#move on from character sheets to the other sheets

[try-again-bissh]

'Imagine Being Loved by Me"

Smoke x Annie x OC Sinners Fic

Modern AU 25+

For the grown and sexy only. I have been reading fic for forever and never written any but the Sinners brainrot and this insane heat wave that is hitting NY have finally gotten me! I have no idea how long this is going to be but I keep getting told to 'just write it bitch' so I am.

Happy Pride! Everyone is a little bit fruity in this one as a treat, if you don't like it I truly don't wanna hear it. I am Very Black, and Very Queer and I love black women so yall know what yall signed up for. I think that's all for now.

Warning: It's gonna be slutty. Threesome. The usual suspect supporting characters. Elias 'Stack' Moore, Pearline, Sammie Moore, That White Girl, Grace Chow, Bo Chow, Cornbread (his name is Corey now), Therese.

Word count: 2075

Enjoy!

Day 6 of 16

Cassie wakes up overheated but rested. She blinks her eyes open slowly squinting into the morning light. Her eyes flutter shut again, and she takes a deep breath. Shea butter, sweat, bergamot and sandalwood fill her nostrils and she sighs softly. It’s nice. There’s a weight on her shoulder and warmth along her side but she's too comfortable to open her eyes and look. The weight moves slightly and Cassie takes a moment to take stock of her body in the space between slumber and being awake. Her lips are raw, and sting slightly like she'd been licking them all night. Around her mouth, jaw  and neck are tacky, possibly from sweat. There are tender sore spots on her neck and chest. The blanket is chafing a tender spot on her breast, right next to her nipple. Cassie wonders what the hell that is. Mosquito bit maybe? She thinks distantly. She doesn't sleep naked for a reason maybe she left a window open.  The further into her body she thinks the more she is lifted toward alertness. 

Her pussy. Cassie’s eyes flutter open and she takes final stock. Her thighs are throbbing with a dull ache as is her lower back and her pussy is pulsing. Her thighs are tacky like she came multiple times and didnt get a chance to clean up, tender spots on the inside of both her thighs and even further down by her knees. 

Her first fully awake thought is “I got fucking ran through last night didnt I?” 

She blinks heavily into the light and can hear what sounds like plates clinking outside the door. Cassie looks down and is met with a sight she can only imagine would greet one on their first morning in Heaven. Annie was asleep on her shoulder. Her gorgeous full lips pouted in sleep, the artful braids from last night mused from more than sleep given the condition Cassie’s body is in. They are both naked, the covers slipping off Annie’s front revealing where her full breasts are slumped to one side of her chest. Cassie feels her jaw drop at the sight and also as last night comes flooding back to her. 

They fucked the shit outta her last night. Or she fucked the shit outta them? Everyone got the shit fucked outta them last night! 

It was definitely all three of them that stumbled back here after leaving Stack to close up the club. She can dimly remember pressing kisses to someone’s neck in the back seat of an Uber while her hand was rubbing and squeezing between someone else’s legs.  Cassie looked to her other side and noticed the sheets were left mused, she looked towards the door and could hear water running or maybe a pan sizzling. She breathe a slight sigh of relief, she really didnt need to fuck someone’s wife without permission…again. 

Her slightly panicked shuffling had woken Annie up, who moaned and rolled further into her. Annie’s leg that was thrown across Cassie's hips tightened and her eyes blinked open. Cassie held her breath as Annie looked up at her face. 

God her eyes. Absolute killer, she would never leave the bed if she saw this every morning. 

Annie’s eyes were slightly glazed and foggy but she smiled softly and leaned up to peck Cassie on the lips before rolling out of the bed and stumbling to her feet unconcerned with her nakedness. Cassie laid frozen as she watched Annie groan and fumble along the back of the door, seeming with her eyes closed till she grabbed a robe, much too long and big to be hers and put it on, then stumbled into the bathroom with it hanging open around her. The sound of the door shutting behind her jolted Cassie out of her daze, and she scooted to the edge of the bed clutching the sheet to her chest she began to look for her clothes. Shuffling through the clothes on the ground most of them seemed to be Smoke’s and Annie’s. How the fuck did they get her totally outta her clothes before even getting to the bedroom?!

Cassie stumbled over one of Smoke’s shoes as she shuffled to the other side of the bed to look for her clothes. In the bathroom the sink ran and she heard footsteps headed towards the bedroom from the hall. Cassie froze as both doors opened. 

Smoke stood in the doorway, steaming mug in one hand, navy blue durag tie tightly on his head, in a stretched out white wife beater and grey sweat shorts. Looking over him another memory of last night filters into Cassie's brain. 

She had pressed him between the front door and her body, Annie crowding drunkenly behind her as held his jaw and kissed him hard and wet. She remembers Annie’s hands fumbling the buttons of his shirt open in the minimal space between her and Smoke’s chest. Once his shirt was open Annie ran her hands up his undershirt and over his chest pausing to pinch and pull his nipples. The sensation caused his hips to grind into Cassie pressing the large bulge of him into her. She grunted and broke the kiss. Reaching down she hauled his wife beater out of his pants and too impatient and probably drunk to wait for him to pull his layers off,  she ducked her entire head under it to get her mouth on his chest. Smoke swore breathlessly reaching out; he pulled his shirt up to his armpits and held it out of her way as she sucked on his pecs and pressed her teeth into him and left bruises behind.

That's why it looks like that. Cassie gaze dragged along the many very visible hickeys and teeth marks on his exposed chest and up his neck. She prayed they weren't all her doing. 

In the other doorway Annie was shuffling sleepily out of the bathroom, too big and too long robe tied around her waist as she yawned. She blinked her eyes open and took in Cassie form, clutching their bed sheet like it would save her and then looked to Smoke who was already holding out the mug in Annie's direction. 

“Mm Lijah” she murmured, voice lower and rougher from sleep. She shuffled forward and took the mug from him, walking directly into his embrace she curled one arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as her other hand brought the cup to her face. 

“Mornin’ baby.” He replied voice low and tone so soft, bursting with so much love. He curled around her, hands rubbing firmly up and down her back. It almost hurts to look at them. 

Cassie must have made a noise because Smoke’s gaze was drawn up to her and he blinked his heavy brown eyes at her and said “Mornin’ Cassie” in that same soft tone. 

Cassie cleared throat and said “Uh yeah good morning.” She pushed her locs back from her face and fiddled with the end of one. She usually was much more chill the morning after her hookups. But they were usually with one person and she was usually dressed and headed out the door by the time her partner of the night woke up. She wiped a hand over the corners of her mouth and her eyes hoping she wasn't covered in dry drool and eye boogers.

She felt wrong footed.

Looking at Annie and Smoke now, they both showed signs of the night before, Smoke’s eyes were small and red like he barely slept and even with Annie as bundled as she was Cassie could see hickeys on her neck (once large one on the nape of her neck lord)  and her hair looked like someone had fisted it repeatedly last night. Somehow they looked perfect, and Cassie was scared she probably looked like something someone dug up. Ran through. 

“There’s coffee, didn't know how you took it but there’s cream, sugar and all that. Breakfast is almost done, I was just coming to wake yall.” Smoke said he was slowly rocking Annie back and forth in his arms as she took random small sips of coffee with her eyes still closed.

“Her Highness isn't much of a morning person so don't expect much chattin from ha till she feels more human.” 

Annie reached down with the hand around his waist and swatted him on the ass, making him chuckle and smile sweetly down at her. She peered her eyes open and they shared a small kiss that left them both smiling. 

“You'll stay for breakfast wont ya Cassie?” Annie asked, her rich voice sweet and sticky. Both her and Smoke peered at Cassie, brown eyes big and hopeful. She doesn't understand how a man taller than her and a woman almost her height would both look at her from beneath their lashes but they were. And it was working alright. 

“Yeah, I could definitely eat. Uh thank you.” She stuttered out awkwardly. “Smoke, do you know um where my clothes ended up, they aren't in here?” Cassie gestured to the floor where his and Annie’s were still scattered. 

“Yeah, they in the dryer. We knocked over a vase last night and it seemed like you got the worst of it.” He released Annie and walked over to a tall mahogany dresser, opening the second drawer he pulled out a white t-shirt, then he opened the top drawer and pulled out something plaid. 

Walking back to Cassie, he stepped right into her space, taller than her for the first time since they met as she was barefoot and still trying to hide behind the sheet wrapped around her. “Trade you?” He gestured at the sheet, his eyebrow cocked yet he was smiling sweetly at her. Still hopeful. 

“Haha” Cassie said sarcastically, “The sun is out and the lord is watching, so no” She reached out to take the clothes from him with one hand, the other clutching tight to the sheets like she didn't trust them to hold to her body while his eyes were roving over her. 

He didn't let go of them when she pulled and she bumped into that wide, board ass chest of his. Smoke looked down at her heavily amused. “No trade then, but it still don't come free.” 

Cassie scoffed but didn't step back, the height difference between them was minimal but it did mean that she was right up in his face as he leaned ever so slightly down to peer at her. 

“Iight, what do you want?” she replied, trying to steady her voice and herself. He smelt good, she realized the bergamot and sandalwood smell was him, his breath smelt of coffee, he was warm and so solid along her front. The sun pouring in through the bay windows in the bedroom were doing absolute wonders for his skin. Fucking beautiful. 

“You kiss ha yet Ann?” He called over his shoulder, and Cassie's head snapped to gaze at Annie. She looked much more alert as she cradled her coffee and watched them with her head tilted to the side. 

“Yep, first thing this morning, I aint no fool.” She said, her eyes pinning Cassie in place. 

“That’s my price then, I would like some suga before my breakfast.” He titled his chin in Cassie’s direction, his other hand slowly snaking around her waist and bringing her in tighter against his body.

Cassie’s gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, both watching her expectantly. Annie's gaze warm and lazy, Smoke’s more eager and hot his eyes flitted between her own and her lips before making home there. 

“i haven't brushed my teeth yet, your suga will have to wait.” Cassie muttered softly. Smoke chuckled, squeezed her waist, he leaned down and for a moment  Cassie thought he would ignore her warning, she closed her eyes and waited for his lips to land. 

They did, warm and a little wet on her cheek and released her. “I'm good at waitin’” he said as he stepped back and headed for the door. 

“You can have first shower, towels, wash rags and everything in the linen closet in dere. Toothbrushes is under the sink.” Annie said, winking and following Smoke out of the bedroom. 

Alone in their bedroom Cassie took a moment to plop back on to the bed and wonder just what in the fuck she had gotten herself into.

Pls let me know what yall thought! <3

Title is from a Hozier song cause I am nothing if not a lesbian.

[camficdiner]

May I please get [1.1] [2.5] [3.4] [4.3] with the Only One Bed trope? Thank you so much!

☕️ Cam’s Fic Diner — Order 043

🍒 Thank you for your patience, angel — this one needed time to simmer and ruin lives properly. We went from fake dating to Luke Hughes scarred for life, and I wouldn’t serve it any other way.

💬 “Room for Two”

✨ Description and prompts:

– Character: Jack Hughes

– Prompt: fake dating at a wedding → only one bed (honeymoon suite)

– Word Count: 1.6k

– Type: fluff + slow burn + corruption kink smut + comedic aftermath

⸻

🛼🍒✨🧁

Luke bailed on the wedding at the last second. Work, school, something about flights. He texted you last-minute:

can you take my place? Jack needs a +1. just be cool.

You knew Jack, of course. Luke’s older brother. NHL player. Ridiculously hot in that boyish way that made you roll your eyes whenever he got too cocky.

You weren’t close, but you’d crossed paths enough. Joked around at family things. Talked shit about his music taste. He once told you your eyeliner was dangerous. You never forgot it.

So when he messaged you himself and said,

“Hey. You still in for the wedding? I’ll owe you.”

you replied:

“Sure. But I’m ordering room service on your tab.”

“Deal.”

⸻

He picks you up in a sleek black suit and a grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You clean up nice,” he says.

You smirk. “You say that to all your fake girlfriends?”

The wedding is beautiful. Garden lights. Outdoor ceremony. Jack’s hand on your lower back feels way too natural.

You sit beside him at the reception. Eat off his plate. Dance once, then twice, then three times. People take photos. One of them calls you “the cutest couple here.”

Jack just says, “Don’t correct them.”

By the time the music winds down and you’ve kicked your heels off, you’re buzzing. From champagne. From the lights. From the way he’s looking at you now like something’s shifted.

⸻

You don’t expect the room to look like that.

Rose petals. Dim lights. A massive bed with silky white sheets. Two flutes of champagne already poured. A heart-shaped mirror over the headboard.

“They gave us the honeymoon suite,” you say.

Jack blinks. “Of course they fucking did.”

You both laugh.

Then stop.

Then laugh again — a little nervously.

“You can sleep on my side if you want,” he says softly.

You glance at him.

He’s already watching you.

“Okay.”

⸻

You drink. Sit on the bed. Your thighs touch. The room smells like citrus and something clean.

You lean against him without meaning to.

He doesn’t move away.

He turns his head.

“You looked really good tonight,” he says. Voice lower. Rougher.

“You’ve said that before.”

“This time I mean it.”

You turn. Your knees brush.

He stares at your mouth.

You say:

“Kiss me.”

He does.

⸻

The kiss deepens quickly. You straddle his lap, tugging at his jacket. He groans when you press your hips down, pulling your dress up over your thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He pushes you back onto the bed, hovers over you, kissing your throat, down your collarbone. Your dress slips lower.

Then he stills.

“Wait.”

“Have you…?”

You shake your head. Nervous. Breathless.

His voice breaks.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nod.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m gonna take my time. Gonna show you everything.”

He kisses you slow. Strips you gently. Talks you through every touch.

His hands on your thighs. His mouth between your legs.

You arch when he sucks your clit, moan when he praises you.

“So sweet. So wet already.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Let me show you how good this can feel.”

You gasp when he finally pushes in — slow, deep, one hand on your hip, the other cradling your cheek.

“You’re so tight, fuck. You were made for me.”

“No one else gets to do this. No one else will.”

You cling to him. Whimper his name.

He fucks you gently, then deeper. Says your name like a promise.

You come first, then he follows, trembling, forehead pressed to yours.

After, he holds you. Strokes your back.

Whispers:

“You’re not just Luke’s best friend anymore.”

⸻

You fall asleep on his chest. Still naked. Warm. Safe. His arm wrapped around your waist.

You don’t hear the door open.

Jack does.

“What the fuck.”

You sit up too fast. Yell. Grab a sheet.

Luke’s frozen. In the doorway. Mouth open. Eyes wide.

“LUKE?” you squeak.

“You SAID you were fake dating,” he says, voice cracking.

Jack doesn’t even flinch. Just rubs his eyes.

“Yeah, well. This part’s real.”

“Are you naked under there?”

“Don’t make it weird, man.”

“I’m leaving. I’m never speaking to either of you again.”

“Tell Mom I said hi,” Jack calls after him.

You fall back into the pillows, mortified.

Jack just pulls you back onto his chest.

“Told you he’d find out eventually.”

[connect404]

Three drawings + two new character sheets (Scott and Ramona) on BLOM'S stream today

:3

(picture four is actually a redraw from another stream he did earlier this year, which is picture 3)

Character sheets under the cut !

The text on Ramona's sheet is very blurry and is very hard to read. After a few minutes and finding a clearer version on twt here , here's what it says :

EYES : Going for something geometric, two triangles for upper and lower eyelashes.

PROPORTIONS : tiny torso, long legs, big hands and feet. It's based on the sprite proportions, but lengthened.

CLOTHING : Denim jacket, black hoodie, shorts, opaque tights, chunky ankle boots.

ACCESSORIES : twin shoelaces around her neck, star ring (optional), star bag, goggles.

-- please follow game sprites for other details. Hammer, special moves, etc.

[pearlywritings]

On the strings of each others' souls

synopsis: general headcannons and scenarios on the romantic relationship between deacon Dahlia - the leader of the choir, and you - the organist.

pairing and characters: Dahlia x fem!reader

tw: fluff, colleagues to lovers, established relationship later, reader is the organist at the Church of Favonius, reader is taller than Dahlia, Venti is the wingman

word count: 4.4k+ words

a/n: Shoutout to my dear friend @ladyphaethon-blog, who has been listening to my yapping about Dahlia and came up with several scenarios that ended up being written here. Thank you, love, you brain is sexy <3

You met Dahlia when he officially joined the Church of Favonius - first as the Lord Barabtos’s oracle, then as a deacon and a leader of the choir. Before that you, of course, heard about a young man, who was skilled with his words and knew how to regulate conflicts - you had some respect for him in absentia. When he proclaimed to be bearing the will of the Anemo Archon, you were among the skepticists. But after you became colleagues and grew closer, your doubts quite quickly dissipated.

Being the organist sort of predetermined your close acquaintance with Dahlia - you and him both working with the choir. While your feelings towards getting a new colleague were neutral (you just hoped he'd have been better than his predecessor), the young man was thrilled - new acquisition meant new emotions. And boy, did he remember the emotions from your first meeting. When he was first led to an inconspicuous door to the side from the organ’s pipes and stepped inside your domain, Dahlia thought he witnessed something sacred. He had never given much thought to how the great instrument operated or wherever even the player was placed, but, seeing you, seated in front of the three rows of white and black keys, leaning forward to scribble something in the music sheets while the fingers of your free hand were floating across the keys without pressing and feet moving around the board of pedals without stepping, he was mesmerized. And only when you glanced at him and called his name as if making sure it was who you thought it was, did he snap out of it and, plastering the humblest smile he could muster, walk further into the room.

From then on Dahlia started building his opinion of you. At first, disappointedly, you appeared to him exactly what the church in his mind was - boring. Serious, barely smiling, sticking to the work and not letting him stray from it - the newly ordained deacon found it hard to believe that you both were in your twenties - coevals! But soon he started to take notice of things. How you’d laugh occasionally with the sisters and even crack a harmless joke. How you’d speak softly with the younger ones, make sure to praise the singers when they got better, even help them adjust their uniforms. If he was completely honest, he once caught you helping Barbara tying her pigtails. The girl lamented her late awakening which resulted in a lack of time to get ready properly, and you only smiled, brushing her locks and promising her it’s alright. On more than one occasion he'd watch you frown your brows or widen your eyes adorably, or shake your head with a smile full of acceptance, while grading your student’s theory homework (ah, yes, he also learned you give piano lessons as a part of homeschooling) during the breaks between the choir practices, having occupied one of the benches in the second row. 

He then talked to the other nuns. Somehow he managed to get information from the several families who hired you for their kids. And his initial take on you was gradually reformed. He began to figure it out, realizing that you were so closed off only because you were in the senior position to him - helping a newbie adjust, making sure he knew you weren’t there to fool around and that working with you might be a challenge, and suddenly, he was alright with it. Buuuut it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and break the ice. 

Dahlia was a peculiar phenomenon to you. Everybody who had eyes and looked longer than five seconds would’ve caught the sight of the mischievous glint in the violet eyes or the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when another reformative suggestion of his brought change to the usual course of things in the cathedral. Plus you saw some of the hymns he carried in his choirbook - he even showed you some himself, asking if it was possible to transfer them from the lyre to the organ. You had no idea how he managed to fool everyone. Yet you promised to discuss the possibility later.

It was easy for you to say that he had little imps dancing in his head, when you had spent quite some time with the man. Absolutely not because his bright aura and showing persistence drew your attention to him. Still, you admitted that you had caught onto his attempts to worm his way under your skin quite fast, you were not stupid or blind, or oblivious. After some time he started to try and evolve the conversations, first with simple talks about the weather and later on asking, as if in passing, how was your day. He would bring something to snack on with the tea - and it was his idea to have breaks (unnecessary ones, since you had rarely spent more than an hour together. Though you came to enjoy them). He would also ask for permission to linger a bit after your discussions were over and hover next to your sitting form, closely watching you operate the organ’s console, occasionally questioning this or that pull or press of your fingers. And you patiently explained.

Four months in you could claim with certainty that you two had become good acquaintances. The kind that not yet teased each other, but already shared jokes and gave the same people a silently judging look. Your expression around him was still mostly neutral, but every time Dahlia had managed to get a sincere smile - no matter how small it was, - from you, or a half-hearted roll of your eyes, or a glare, or his name said in warning…the young man felt the so-beloved feeling of excitement blooming in his chest.

“I think you have a little crush on our dear organist!” Venti once giggled after the deacon confided in his god (or rather spilled the tea about your surprised face one evening over the bottle of wine). Dahlia stopped mid-sip, and then slowly lowered his glass, staring at his friend. Come to think of it… the bard had a point. The young man had to admit it: he enjoyed the little moments you spent together. He finally found your mostly unphased behavior refreshing. He’d been speaking about you to others more. Sometimes he caught himself musing if he should’ve invited you to tug along to the tavern after work. He looked forward to singing you a new rhyme he learnt from somewhere and preened when you clapped and offered him few, but sincere words of praise. The first time you told him you thought he was the right pick for the leader of the choir because you found his voice heavenly? He was speechless and bashful. Ultimately, if we return to his and Venti's conversation, your expression morphed into one of sheepish bewilderment because the deacon decided to be a little tease and called you ‘flower’... Who calls their colleague a flower!? “You know what, Venti? I think you are onto something.” "*gasp* I AM!?"

Nice shot, Venti.

After that fateful conversation, Dahlia began paying closer attention to you. First thing he finally noted was your height. Since you usually greeted him while sitting and the conversation rarely happened on foot, the pink-haired herald never addressed the fact that you were significantly taller than him. Like, eye-level-with-your-collarbones taller. Sometimes your chest, if you had heels on. Did it bother him? As if. It felt strangely exhilarating when he had to lift his head just to look into your calm as the lake surface eyes. Imagination drew pictures of stepping into your embrace and tucking his head under your chin, content and secure, pressing his cheek to your softness… Oops, he was moving too fast too soon in his head.

The second revelation came in the form of the shift in your dynamic. It was no longer only Dahlia coming to you. Now you also sought him out. You'd approach him before morning service and offer to share your breakfast - had little time to eat at home, brought too much with you. Instead of talking to one of the nuns, you went to him directly if something of concern happened. You'd even take your time and walk closer to say hi if you spotted him in the city. The most earth-shaking instance so far, that almost made his heart skip a beat, was you finding him after a little organ concert you gave every Thursday, and showing him a folder with music sheets. “I managed to transfer that song you liked from the lyre to the pipe organ. I can play it to you tomorrow, during my own practice.”

Your voice was even, but Dahlia didn't miss the way your eyes held sparkles in them, and how your lashes trembled when you looked at him, truly looked at him.

And he came on Friday. And he listened. And he felt the feelings bloom. And he sang, first by your side and then stepping outside and filling the grand hall of the cathedral with his voice alongside your music. It was uplifting, it was the creation of something new, something dear, and he paid no mind to the sisters or the members of the congregation who stopped whatever they were doing just to witness his smile, the perfect sync of his melodious voice and the majestic instrument that was playing quieter, softer. For him.

Dahlia ran back inside the room with the slam of the door that almost made you scold him. But you simply had no time for that, not even a second to stand up, as the deacon hugged you tightly around the shoulders in the rush of feelings. He was laughing, he was wearing the widest smile you’d ever seen him possess and he was rocking your bodies from side to side in an unconcealed excitement. He was elated when your fingers softly curled around his arm, squeezing, and the side of your head lightly bumped against his cheek. It took everything in him not to press a kiss to your hair.

And that was then that he realized it was pointless to beat around the bush and asked you to join him in the tavern that very same evening.

“Hey, I was thinking…” It took him around half an hour of hurried praises and a ton of questions you diligently tried to keep up with, but he was finally more or less calm. You let him sit on the organ’s bench together with you. Hips touching, shoulders snug together, and his palm resting on top of the back of yours, as the fingers moved across the keyboard. You told him it’s an exercise you use to show your students how relaxed a hand should be. And it was the closest you’d ever been with him. “Yes?” Your head turned and hand stilled. But he made no effort to remove his. “Why don’t you join me at the Angel’s Share today?” Violet eyes gleamed, and you could swear you caught the glimpse of hope in them. “I rarely see you anywhere after work, unwinding. I promise you good wine and good music.” “Master Diluc’s tavern?” You hummed, glancing to the side, brows drawing together in thought. “I’m afraid it’s too many people and different sounds for my liking. It may not seem like it, but sometimes I can get a minor headache from playing for too long. I would like to avoid making it worse.” “Oh,” the sudden discovery made Dahlia’s enthusiasm waver slightly. But as his mind was rushing to come with something else, your hand turned, letting his palm slide into yours, curling the fingers around his tentatively. “However… I don’t see why we can't save the evening at the tavern for another time and go to the Good Hunter to have a nice dinner instead.” “Are you…” his breath hitched and he couldn’t dare to believe his luck, just not yet, “...are you asking me out?” “Well, technically it was you who asked me out first,” a sliver of tease slipped into your voice, “I simply suggested a different location.” “So…it’s a ‘yes’?” “Absolutely.” “We are going on a date?” “Mhm,” your gaze shifted to his hand and fingers started playing with his. The deacon’s shoulders relaxed. His digits carefully, just one knuckle in, slid between yours. His head tilted back a bit, and mouth released a relieved sigh. And Dahlia fully accepted the fact he was taking his crush out. “Oh, thank Barbatos…” Then, as if remembering something urgent, he slightly bolts, sitting straighter. “Oh, also!” “Yes?” “Can I keep calling you ‘flower’?” To his surprise a small smile graced your lips. “Ask me that after the fifth date, and I promise to think about it.” And you winked. Dahlia was positively gone.

It’s been a couple of years since you officially started dating. Deacon Dahlia, known for his blessing to hear the will of the divine, the young herald with an aura of piety who always has a kind word of advice for the troubled, and you, the Church of Favonius’s organist and composer, a collected young lady, who gives piano lessons and looks after the younger sisters of the church.

To some your union came as a surprise, other citizens were more observant and were suspecting something when you first started to appear together in public for your dates. And very few, like sister Victoria, saw the signs long before. 

In any case, people are happy for you. You honestly look good together, and the members of the congregation actually believe it was your mutual devotion to Lord Barbatos that brought your pure souls to each other.

But Dahlia will never ever fool you. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you have that annoying thought that your love made him worse. If before his smile was pretentiously humble, now it looks like sin whenever he graces you with his glance.

His attitude shifted too. Now, with you, he doesn’t have to hold back and pretend he is not a menace to society (and you personally), doesn’t need to think twice before deciding to tease you; you accepted him as your lover and he sure isn’t going to waste any opportunity to do what he enjoys doing most. Bring fun and chaos into your relationship.

His fantasies are a reality now. Nothing can stop this man if he wants to hug his girlfriend (only you). He fawns on you like a pink-furred kitten, sliding his arms around your waist and placing his cheek atop your chest, sighing dreamily. He calls your height difference just perfect, and when you reprimand him (effortlessly) for his behavior, he turns to face you, plants his chin right between your breasts and gives you a goofy smile.

But he is also greedy. Embraces were quick to become ‘not enough’ for him, he soon started to desire kisses. He loves the challenge when he wants one. Catching you by surprise and smooching you as you sit or hovering over you while you are lying are, obviously, good deals. Though they don’t get him going like standing kisses. He loves the playful banter when he asks you to lean down. He isn’t insecure to use the bench or the steps, or the edge of the fountain to jump onto and get his portion of pecks. Archons, for the longest time his unserious ass even had a folding stool on him all time while at church. Sweet and innocent Barbara thought the deacon used it to put his elbows up while praying. Dahlia whipped it out whenever he wanted to get his lips on yours.

Is into making out in random places. Could be the second floor at the Angel’s Share, where you two are tucked in the corner while everyone is celebrating downstairs; chairs half-turned to each other, your mouths moving together in sync, and his hand is held down against your thigh with your own, cutting off his sneaky attempt to paw at you. Hoisting you onto the barrel behind the Cat’s Tail works too - he has a perfect opportunity to invade space between your spread legs and hush your discontent whispers with as many kisses as he wants. Slipping into your ‘work room’ before, in-between and after the practices just to steal some more? A given. Archons, you can even lift him up against the church’s wall and he’ll wrap his arms and legs around your body with vigor, smashing his mouth into yours. He’d even make sure to curl his toes in the shoes just for the giggles.

As matter of fact, Rosaria - who, as you now know, can move soundlessly - once caught you in that very position, when she was trying to skip choir practice. You think the three of you had a staring contest for like, two minutes, before Dahlia, ignoring you hiding your face in his neck and silently dying inside from embarrassment, negotiated with his subordinate, that ‘she saw nothing and you two didn’t see her either’. Still hoisted up. With legs around your waist, swollen lips and everything.

The only case that was worse than that, happened a couple of months into your relationship. Having stayed late to finish some work on picking the new composition for the choir’s repertoire, Dahlia got impatient. The moment you turned away from the manuals of the instrument, your lover was on you. He learned the hard way that the human back slamming against the keys of the pipe organ created a truly LOUD cacophony. Almost at midnight, no less.

You don’t know what exactly Dahlia told the sisters to cover your…blasphemous actions, and you don’t want to know to save your dignity, but the day later your impish boyfriend told you that everything was alright and it only cost him two bottles of the fine dandelion wine for using the Anemo Archon’s name.

As I said -you don’t want to know.

But for a half of a year Dahlia was banned from your domain.

(You nearly brought back this prohibition once you learned that the Holy Lyre der Himmel was first stolen and then returned broken. You had your suspicions, you are not proud of it, but just for good measure you make sure Dahlia knows how delicate, despite its massiveness, the organ is, and how hard, not to mention expensive, it is to fix your instrument.)

Not only Dahlia changed because of the relationship - you did too. Got more sociable, experimental, daring. It came to you as a surprise that being showered with affection and becoming the center of attention of the man you love can be as agreeable as others described it. You are still the responsible one and often mutter at your partner’s shenanigans, but you do not deny that being loved by Dahlia, spending every day by his side feels like a blessing. Even if this ‘blessing’ acts like he has two pointy horns and a sharp-tipped tail.

You are still not the regular at the taverns, but occasionally, on a night before a day off, you would join your lover and your (now mutual) friends. On evenings when you do not, you still stop by on your way from the late classes to pick up your boyfriend and go home together. Dahlia always laughs, when you turn to Diluc or any other barmen on duty and ask genially, if your boyfriend turned the peaceful evening into another messy chaos.

Speaking of friends…

Venti, the notorious bard you’ve seen and heard of before, is now the third wheel in your relationship, but this wheel is FUNCTIONING. Someone wise once said: ‘if you can’t beat them, join them. But if you are too sane to join - just roll with it.’ That’s the path you chose, becoming the observer of their trickstery.

Dahlia once told you, that ever since his friend had found out about the crush the deacon had on you, he’d beg at least twice a day: “please, please, please, get together it will be so fucking funny and wholesome”. With hands clasped together and eyes lifted skyward. (as if this man isn’t a god himself)

Then you were informed that Venti was actually your wingman - self-proclaimed, of course. How come? Very logically: had it not been his proposition, Dahlia wouldn't have joined the church and met you. Well, maybe he would've, somewhere in the city, but at the cathedral he could see you every day! And fall in love! You let him think what he wanted, while Dahlia just smiled into his drink.

There are times though when you admit you owe it to Venti - like that one conversation on an evening you barely remember.

“Soooo, Dahlia calls you a flower, huh?” The bard muses when your boyfriend leaves the table for a refill with a kiss to your temple and a quiet murmur of a nickname that stuck. “Yep,” your lips pop the last letter like it’s a vexation, but an unconscious action of gliding your fingertips over the ring with a flowery pattern on your hand tells the wind god a different story. “Aww, does it mean he’s your little bug?” “What?” You shoot him a look, surprised. The bard twists the teal-died braid between his fingers, puts his chin on a free palm and gives you a toothy grin. “Come on, isn’t it obvious? He can’t get his hands off of you, he practically climbs on you. And if you are a beautiful flower, he should be an itty-bitty beatle.” The man watches you ponder his words, witnesses the moment when an idea gets into your head, and relishes in the devious smile that stretches your mouth. “Venti, I don’t say it often - but you are a genius.” “Tee-hee, so I’ve been told~” When Dahlia is finally back, three mugs are placed on the table, and he reclaims his seat by your side, you catch him off guard with a peck to his lips and a sweet, practically saccharine ‘missed you, cuddlebug’, and Venti bursts out laughing nose first into his mug.

Ultimately, Venti is Dahlia’s man. His backup. His partner in crime. His wingman. You can only cover your face with a hand when the bard, already drunk and wobbly, bends down, wraps his arms around his friend’s legs and hoists him up, swearing it’s only because your lover wants a kiss. From you. No, asking you to lean down is not an option today, absolutely not.

You are so tired of them /aff

You three are like a modern sitcom. The company of three where: 1) two are dating; 2) the third one is drinking at the expanse of the other two; 3) the third one is also a god and the guy from the pair is his herald and they are best buddies; 4) the herald’s girlfriend is in a permanent state of wanting to smack the other guy on the back of his head, yet every time lets him crash at her house.

By the way, living with Dahlia is…an experience. No, he is responsible with his chores (though he doesn’t miss an opportunity to use their completion as an excuse to demand affection), and isn’t one to bring other people around (Venti is an unspoken exception). But he gets so clingy when left alone with you in the comfort of your shared space. If you cook something, he is attached to your back with arms wrapped around your waist. If you lounge on the sofa, he comes and drapes himself over you like a weighted blanket, expecting headpats and getting away with his hand wiggling under your shirt. If he is the one sitting and you come into the room, he lights up and pats his lap. Even if there are plenty of places to sit down (he just loves how he can put his head onto your chest when you settle on top of his thighs sideways, says your heartbeat calms him). Practically, he leaves you alone only if you ask him to and during the hours when you need your concentration being directed solely to music.

He steals the blankets. Which isn’t that much of a problem, considering he hogs you into his arms as well. Giggles, when you repeat the ‘cuddlebug’ nickname sleepily for the tenth time, and throws his leg over yours for good measure. Sometimes he sings you off to sleep, using that high beautiful voice for your ears only. Never lets you out of bed without a morning kiss (you tried, but he is quite a light sleeper). On several occasions has played harmless pranks by handing you his shirt instead of yours or hiding socks the way you have to wear a mismatched pair (no one sees, but he knows, and it brings him joy). Always has an attentive ear, a soothing silence and a warm embrace to offer when you feel down.

All in all, Dahlia is a good boyfriend. Yes, he does things that leave you wondering how people still see him as a perfect image of a cleric, but he never makes you a part of a drama that could cause any form of harm. He’s a huge tease, but while his mouth is flirting, his eyes gaze at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and named at least ten in his honor. He is attentive, supportive and ready to step in if someone bothers you (on more than one occasion he, wearing the most innocent look his skills could provide, rage-baited the person who was making you uncomfortable, making it so the knights were forcing them from you and taking them away). He remembers stuff you like, surprising you at least once a week with a trinket that caught your eye or a favorite snack of yours that is sold on a specific day at a specific time, or something else that’ll delight you. He also doesn’t forget important dates, even if they are your personal ones. You were gobsmacked when last year he asked how you two were going to celebrate the 5-year anniversary of your successful career as the piano teacher (you forgot about it!). But most importantly…

Dahlia loves you. Loves you like the sun that plays with the colors of the stained-glass windows. Loves you like a long walk home when you can talk and talk about what your future holds. Loves you like you are a mystery he’ll never unfold, but will happily try again and again. Loves you like a constant that his drama-seeking self didn’t know it so desperately needed.

And when your hand finds his, and you whisper earnestly an ‘I love you’ back, Dahlia believes his life has truly been blessed.

taglist: @ghostlymoons, @queenskippy

[gugudalala]

ft. sae itoshi / rin itoshi x reader

synopsis: They grew up together, hearts quietly entwined — even when Sae left for America. Now that Sae's back, Rin is done watching from the sidelines and pushes his way between them, Sae's long-suppressed jealousy boils over — the quiet bond they once shared threatens to erupt into something far more dangerous.

TW: smut with plot, spanking, degradation, size kink, unprotected, praise, ect+++

words: 1087

A/N. I do not own any of the character or picture (credit to the rightful owner) only the plots are mine. 

Enjoy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

CH: 1 | 2 | 3

────୨ৎ────

MONTHS LATER

After those days, nothing between you three was the same—at least not on the surface. The days remained deceptively normal, with light conversations, and routines unchanged. Sae returned to his team. Rin buried himself in his training program. You threw yourself into your studies. But whenever the three of you found yourselves in the same room, the truth surfaced back to the day.

With Sae and Rin's conflicts, you begin to doubt your relationship. — did you truly want this? No. You knew it was wrong. Twisted. And yet, the thought of ending it made your chest ache. You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to lose what the three of you had, whatever this was. It was messy, it was unspeakable, but it was real.

The season break had arrived, they were both coming home. Your parents were gone for the week, from your bedroom window the light in Rin’s window flickered on while the one beside it stayed dark. Then came the knock. Of course, they knew the passcode. Of course, they let themselves in. Opening the door you didn’t have to look to know who it was

"Welcome back," you whisper, stepping closer, his hand reaching up to brush against your cheek "I'm back" Rin murmurs, kissing you. Kissing Rin always feels like falling as he kisses like he’s willing to give you everything, to burn himself just to keep you warm. Sae’s kisses are nothing like Rin, Sae kisses like a thief as if he’s pulling pieces out of you into his mouth and keeping them.

His kiss deepened as he starts feeling you, grabbing your breast and cupping your heat. "Wait—Sae is not here" you gasp "We don’t have to put it in" he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. There were unspoken rules,  never written, never said aloud, but known to all three of you. One, Rin and Sae would never touch each other. Two, always wear protection. And lastly, the three of you must be present to have sex. 

Moving to the bed, he helps you remove your nightwear, he kisses down the curve of your neck to your breast. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his hand reaches to touch your bare cunt teasing your slit, spreading them open. Tearing off his clothes, he hovered over you as his fingers enter, kissing away your moan. Your cunt is already making a lewd noises with every pump he makes  “So eager” he teased. Your face is growing hot as he speeds up. He guides your hand to fists his length, and you move along with him. Feeling how thick it is, you can’t think of anything else but to bury him inside you. 

‘What if’ you taught as pleasure flogs your mind. What if this is what it takes to make them yours — truly yours? Not just their body, not just their time. But Forever? 

With the taught in mind you slowly guild him to your opening “Fuck” he groan as he feel you, his lower half pressed against you dangerously enough, he started moving fast, rubbing his length across your open slit  — just a little push he would enter — and he did

You could feel the head of his cock entering you rubbing against your walls — raw 

He slam into you, picking up his speed “You been wanting this don’t you, being fuck raw, such a good girl” he was ramming into you so hard that you felt the tip of his length hitting your cervix “ah- too deep!” you cried, nails clawing at the sheets. He pushes back your leg, putting you into a matting press and slam down onto you hitting every spot he possibly could. Raw cock pressing your cervix as you let out another muted gasp “Tell me you want my seed”  Rin cooed in your ear. “Please…” you beg  “Rin please, please cum in me” He grunted as you begged, ramming hard until you both came together. You let out something between a moan and a scream, reaching your peak. Tears fill your eyes, feeling an overwhelming sensation being cum into.

“What a mess” The voice cuts through your pleasure like a blade. You whip your head toward the door to see Sae standing there, one shoulder resting against the frame, eyes cold and unreadable. Without a word he stalks forward, Rin barely has time to react before Sae’s  shoves him aside, sending him to the floor. Looking back down at you Sae tsked, seeing cum spilling out of your cunt “Stupid slut, spreading your leg for everyone” using his finger he scoop out the cum, scraping out from inside. You can't help but turn on as your body reacts to his touch, thrusting your hip forward into his finger wanting to take him more. 

He landed a heavy slap against your clit before cupping it “Open” he demanded. Adjusting yourself for him, leg open, you use both hands to spread your folds, pussy clenching as he stares at you. Your slick drips down along with the leftover cum inside, your pussy throb, aching, desire for more. Satisfied, he removes his clothes and gives his cock a few pumps before thrusting his cock inside you. In one swift move he makes you take him to the hilt, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. His hips stilled inside of you as he pulled you into his arms, sitting up on his lap. You're confused only until you feel the mattress dip behind you. And then you understand. 

“I can’t, I-I can’t” you scream, struggling but his arm locks you into place holding firmly. You could feel Rin from behind using his hand to spread your rear "Please… I’m scared" Your voice comes out as a whisper. You could barely take one — but two? Yet the thought coils around your mind like a sin you want to taste 

“Don’t lie, I could feel your wall twitching inside" Sae smirked. You could feel the head of Rin cock enter. You jolt, both from shock and pleasure they force you through, whimper as they both settle inside you. They both start slow, taking their turn to thrust, but once they find their place they start going faster, reaching deeper. As the coil in your stomach continued to burn, your body felt all the pleasure from both back and front. You sobbed, your thighs start to tremble, your body snaps as you cum on them. You are a complete mess, and they continue to thrust into your g-spot nowhere near stopping "This is what you want, isn’t it? To be bound to this forever. To carry proof of it inside you—of us" Rin moaned into your ear as you could feel his cock twitching inside “Gonna cum. you gonna let me cum in you like a good fucking whore?” Sae growls “Yes… yes—yes,” you gasp, blabbering broken mess, begging, whining with every snap of their hips. You feel yourself slipping, your eyelids grow heavy and the feeling of waves crash onto your trembling body, you squirt making a mess around them, as they continue to drive into you. Shooting their load claiming you. 

‘It’s too much, just too much’ 

Everything becomes a blur, all you can do is feel their thick cum dribbling out of you. Clinging to your inner thighs, your legs are shaken. Both holes were overstretched and filled. Too tired to be awake, you let yourself slip away—into the shadows, into them. Whatever this was, it was already consuming you. 

────୨ৎ────

COUPLES MONTHS LATER

Clutching the stick, you stare as two lines bleed into view Your breath catches, chest tight, as you glance up at both of them standing before you silently watching, their eyes filled with something you can’t name. 

You finally got what you wanted.

Not love.

Not peace.

Forever.

[deadhands69]

By a Thread part 3

Tomura Shigaraki x Witch Reader

fluff inspired by the prompt: "listening to the other's heartbeat" thanks for sending it anon, sorry this one took a while to update! I usually try to keep things relatively blank/fill in your own info for a lot of x reader but at some point that becomes really boring or difficult to write. in this case, the dog didn't have a name initially but after editing this, she does now because this part is pretty dog heavy and there are only so many times of saying "the dog" before it sounds less like an included character and more like some rando dog that you barely know and don't care about. so anyways, her name is Hazel like witch hazel! (both for the name + Tomura finds her soothing)

[previous] [series masterlist]

Spring has fully taken off, which means you've been here for weeks now.

The transition to moving in with Tomura went smoother than expected. Not only do you have your own bedroom with a door and everything, you now have fancier furniture than you know what to do with. 

Sure, you had a bed in your cottage but it was hard and rustically made, to put it nicely. It’s all you ever knew before this though, so you were used to it. This one is wool that you sink softly into. The sheets are soft and smooth against your skin. Every night, you’ve had dreams about sleeping in a cloud – which makes sense, you basically are.

Even Tomura’s chairs are nicer, plushy where yours weren't. It's taken you some time to get used to the luxuries, but Hazel has adapted fast – not wasting any time before cozying into her own small bed placed in your room. 

Of course, there is still so much you miss about your cottage. 

Your belongings. Your garden. The warmth of your small space. Particularly on windy nights like tonight when the old house holds a draft that can't be easily quelled. The window sashes shake against the force of the salty air coming off the ocean.

You’re happy to have somewhere safe to be though, in spite of it all. 

Living with another person has been less jarring than you expected as well. Neither of you are particularly intrusive – he mostly keeps to himself, leaving for solid days without warning, holing up in the study, and spending hours in his room doing...something. If you’re being honest, you’ve barely seen him since the two of you arrived here. 

Tonight you hear him. The sound of him scraping at something in his room turns to footsteps creaking on the old stairs. You peek your head out to make sure he’s okay. 

Tomura stands at the window, staring out. Absentmindedly, he pets the dog’s head when she rubs against his leg.

Things have felt different since you’ve arrived. Maybe it was always like this. You did only know him for one night before moving in and of that night, you spent most of it asleep. Still, there’s a certain tension in the air that you don’t recall from before. His gaze never quite meets your eyes but you catch him stealing glances when he doesn’t think you’re looking. It’s probably normal, all part of adjusting to having another person in your space.

“Night,” he mumbles before continuing up the stairs to his room. You go back to yours, staring out the window for a while. There's something else out there after sundown. It doesn't permeate into his yard, but you can feel it all around. There's a distinctly different, dark energy on everything. 

It almost feels like it’s getting stronger.

By the time you wake up, the wind has died into a gentle breeze – it’s time to get to work, you have a long day ahead of you. 

Even with the on and off rains, you’ve been busy rebuilding something close to a temporary replacement for your garden. While you don’t intend to stay here forever, you have no immediate plans for where you’ll go yet. Thus, it made sense to have a small patch here – at least for this year. Tomura was happy to let you use whatever space you’d like to and, while he never actually said it, his eyes lit up at the prospect of fresh fruits and vegetables. You wonder the last time he made himself an actual meal. From what you’ve seen, there’s been nothing but quick to heat grains in the house until you arrived. Even now, there’s not much more you can make with what limited supplies you have.

There’s a windowed area built onto the side of the house that makes the perfect greenhouse. It’s a bit overgrown and, like everything else here, in some state of disrepair, but you don’t mind. It’s still spring so there’s a bit of time left to get most seeds going. Beets, peas, and sunflower shoots are all spilling over the edges of their pots. Some have been transplanted already, you’re slowly moving what you can into the plots you dug up. Hazel came out and helped, but it’s unclear how much she understands of the situation and you think she may have just wanted an excuse to play in the dirt.

What you’ve been able to grow will have to do for now, considering that they’re the only seeds you had stuck drying between the pages of your grimoire. Soon you’ll also need to go into town for more seeds, you’re not sure when that will be safe though. Tomura knows you need the seeds, in addition to other necessities, and said he has an idea. That was the second day you were here. Neither of you have brought it up since then.

In the meantime, you’ll have to go back into the forest to forage. It’s the least you can do to repay him for allowing you to stay.

You’re not really sure what Tomura is doing this morning, but you’d like to take advantage of the nicer weather. The breeze is warmer than the past few days and the clouds look unassuming. While your magic has never been perfectly in tune with the weather, you have no concerns. It’s as good of a day as any for a walk. 

After feeding yourself and Hazel then tending to the new plants, you’re ready to go. In the few weeks you’ve spent in this house, you haven't seen a basket anywhere so you bring an extra piece of cloth to wrap what you gather for the return trip.

When you walked here before, you were exhausted. Sure, you remember some of your surroundings, but you didn’t get a close look at them.

Tomura’s house is the only one remaining in what used to be a small town by the looks of it. Outlines of the houses still remain. Neither you nor your dog move closer to investigate. You can see well enough from the road. Their blackened foundations are etched into the landscape by a powerful dark magic. It feels similar to what you saw Tomura use the night your cottage burned down, but more concentrated. Part of you wants to ask him about it, but given that he’s the only person you’ve seen out here, you could probably guess. It’s hard to wrap your head around it, this was done by the same person who so easily took you in when you were in need. He’s not someone you’d describe as warm or friendly, but the juxtaposition of his doings still feels incomprehensible. You can see why they call him the symbol of fear.

The darkness appears to stretch over the entire peninsula. By the time you’ve reached the end, you’ve almost gotten used to the vacant lots. The rolling grass hills feel out of nowhere. 

Up you go, following a faint path to the top of the ridgeline. Rather than going back out towards the town, you continue straight into the forest. The trees become less windswept, growing closer together. Soon you’re back in your element.

Recent rains, followed by the warmer weather brought up a huge crop of mushrooms. The faint orange clusters stand out against the detritus. You cut off what you can carry, stuffing them in your makeshift bag. A few bunches of fiddlehead ferns catch your eyes as well. You take some of the tender shoots that have yet to unfurl. The cloth wrapped around your shoulder fills easily as you collect. With any luck, this should last you a few days.

Following Hazel further into the forest, you come across a stream. The two of you stop for water before continuing further up the hill. Light shines brighter through the trees and the sound of water grows louder. In a few more turns, the stream widens beneath a waterfall. It’s not massive by any means, but still just as pretty. Water trickles down boulders between vivid green moss. Hazel jumps in immediately. You watch as she plays in the water, taking off your boots to do the same. 

There’s something about beautiful spaces that makes you forget time. Hours slip by faster and before you know it the sun is settling behind the trees much sooner than you expected. Warm light illuminates the stream as you follow it back down the hill towards the peninsula. It looks like a golden snake slithering its way down to the ocean. You turn as soon as the trees begin to thin, in search of the faint trail that led you here. 

The sunset fades to pink, then darkens quickly.

Too quickly. 

A sense of foreboding overwhelms you as you rush down the grass covered hill towards the house. Once more, you curse yourself for not knowing more protective spells. Summoning some small amount of energy from the surrounding plants, you cast a thin shield over yourself and Hazel. It’s not much but it will be better than nothing. You hope the feeling is all in your head.

By the time you reach the road, darkness surrounds you. It’s as if the air you breathe is closing in around you. Everything goes cold, you’re shivering as you rush as fast as you can. But fast isn’t fast enough. It feels like a dream when you’re trying to run and being held back. You feel the spell you cast being pulled off of you. Then, warm hands on your shoulders. 

Startled, you turn to find yourself face to face with Tomura. 

“Take Hazel and run,” he growls. 

“What about you?” he doesn’t respond, shoving past you.

Through the haze, you manage to follow your dog towards the house. Your legs move easier now, but you still feel yourself in the grasp of an entity you can’t quite place. Focusing on throwing one foot in front of the other, you make it to the end of the peninsula.

As soon as you stumble through the gate, the world expands. Goosebumps disappear from your skin as the temperature rises back to normal. Hazel stands nearby, panting while watching something outside the fence. She seems to have fared better than you in all of this, whatever it is didn’t seem to hold onto her the same as it did to you.

Just as you start to get worried, Tomura stumbles through the gate, slamming it shut behind him. You jump up to help him, noticing a slew of new cuts over his face and hands. The two of you make it a few steps with you supporting his weight before falling onto the grass.

His arms hang limply over you, holding you to his chest. His breathing is slow, shallow. You listen for his heartbeat. It beats wildly, calming over time as the two of you catch your breath. He begins to stir, allowing you to roll onto your back.

“What was that?” you gasp.

“Nothing you need to deal with,” he grumbles, “why did you leave here without me?”

Hazel has settled in on his other side, head resting on his shoulder.

“To find dinner,” you say, pulling the nearly forgotten bundle of food from your shoulder.

“Next time come find me, I’ll go with you. No one should go into that forest alone at night, especially not you.”

“Why me?” you ask, “I notice whatever it is didn’t go for Hazel in the same way.”

“You have magic.” He sighs, sleepily. “And as of now, you’re also tied to me. So he wants you more than before.”

“So, having a connection to you makes him more interested in me?” 

“Forget I said anything,” Tomura mumbles.

There are so many questions you have that would take days to answer, but you know you won’t get anything out of him tonight. Instead, you lay here staring up at the stars. Eventually, he breaks the silence.

“Do you think all of this would have happened anyways, without the potion?”

“Maybe,” you say. “I mean, it’s quite the coincidence that you just so happened to be passing by my cottage at the times you were. If it wasn’t the potion, something brought us together.”

“Like fate?” he asks.

“If you believe in that sort of thing.” All of your conversations with Tomura up to this point have led you to believe he's too practical to buy into such things.  

“The fact that we can have our destinies tied together by a potion implies that fate is real. And if fate is real, wasn’t I always destined to end up on your doorstep somehow?” He’s moved closer, pressing up onto his elbow to face you. Of course he would have some sensible reasoning but it's a surprise to you how much he seems to have thought into your intertwined lives. Initially, he shrugged it off like he didn't care. Maybe he feels more than he lets on. Suddenly, you're aware of the closeness between the two of you. 

“Hmm,” you say slowly, giving yourself time to think. You wish you had more experience with conversations like this. “I never thought of it that way.” 

“No? How do you see it then?” he presses. Not in a demanding way, more like he's insatiably curious. It's an interesting feeling, it's not that you've never spoken with people, you have, but no one has ever wanted your opinion on something. Not like this. 

“I don’t know, the future feels like some nebulous cloud of possibility. This just solidified a direction.”

“So you do believe in fate?” His eyes scream 'I'm right' but his smile remains playful. Something in you melts against your will, making it hard to find the right words. 

“In some way,” you contemplate, “I think there are still some choices within it. But I guess so. This was always an outcome.”

“Does that matter to you?” he asks, leaning in closer. You can feel him a short breath away. 

“Does fate matter?” you ask. 

“No, does it matter if it was a potion or not? You're the first person I've ever been close with and I'm assuming it's the same for you. Does it bother you that this is all from something you created?” a flash of genuine concern crosses his face before you open your mouth to answer. 

“No.” You state it definitively, bringing the curiosity back into his features. “No, it doesn't bother me. If we're going through our lives like this regardless, I'd rather not let anything cheapen it. This is how it is and we'll never know otherwise. Besides, we create everything in our lives. Some of us just have other means of making things happen.”

His eyes narrow at you as he smirks, “is that not what got you into this mess? If you weren't making love potions for half the town–” he drops it, realizing the last half of his sentence is less fun than he intended. “Uhm, speaking of the town,” he continues, more seriously. “I am still working on that.”

“How's that going? Unless you can transform us, I don't see how we won't stand out immediately in that crowd.”

“Don't worry,” he assures you, “I have it all figured out.”

[series masterlist] [bnha masterlist]

i picked the prompt for the next part (i saw it and really wanted to write it for this!), but still accepting prompts from the lists on the masterlist or any i've shared to continue the story after that

taglist: @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16 @thesecond2demonking

@shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

 @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @love-for-yoosung-kim  @xytraxpy @venom-barf 

@shiiigaraki @thetinas21 @spam-1

[date-everything-confession-booth]

im asexual but i would give up everything to be in the sheets with chance

⋆˚꩜｡

[elektroyu]

Uhmmmmm I love him okay

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

PART TWO

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

[humanjarvis]

blushing bandit: part 1

synopsis: you coax caleb into admitting his crimes against your laundry.

tags: sub!caleb, caleb steals your panties to get off, you make him admit it, fingering (main character to self), caleb praise kink, caleb whimpers again, teasing, sexual condescension, cum...licking? (off of panties) pairing: caleb x reader word count: 1.3k

PART 2

a/n: i told myself if i ever wrote panty sniffer caleb it'd have to be unique since it's done so much so i hope this is enough. sorry if not. [omg i’m proofreading rn and i am not the same person i was when i wrote this]

You’d been keeping a spreadsheet.

In the last four times that Caleb had done your laundry, four pairs of your panties had gone missing.

The first time, you’d shrugged it off. Meh, maybe the dryer sucked them in, you’d thought. The second was just a coincidence, and the third had had you this close to calling a repairman. But by the fourth? You suspected you were dealing with a repeat offender—a human one. 

This wasn’t Caleb’s first time having a…fixation with your underwear. A few times prior, you’d walked past the laundry room to see him staring down at a small scrap of lace or cotton in his hands, frantically chucking them into the washer once he spotted you. Needless to say, you were so certain of his guilt that you didn’t even care to check his room—you were right, you knew, and he’d admit what he’d done by the end of the day. 

Fifteen minutes before Caleb usually gets home, you crack your door open just enough to expose your bed. Climbing onto the mattress, you angle your panty-clad lower half to the doorway. The pair you’ve got on are simple: pink cotton with white lace borders. You honestly didn’t care which ones you wore—they just needed to be light enough to stain.

Spreading your legs, you slip your hand under the lace waistband, running your fingers up and down your slit. As you part your folds, you slowly slide your hand up to play with your clit, circling, flicking, and rubbing until you’re slick with arousal. Your movements are calculated, methodical. This wasn’t about achieving pleasure—that would come when you tormented Caleb later. For now, your goal was to soil your panties with cum. 

When the front door opens, you quicken your pace, rocking your hips into the bed so it creaks and dropping distinct moans from your lips. 

You don’t even bother to listen for footsteps—you know he’ll come. You know he’ll see. 

As you feel yourself getting close, you swipe two fingers along your glistening folds before sinking them into your core, matching the rhythm of the other hand still playing with your clit.

The pressure builds and builds, but a glimpse of the shadow moving in the cracked doorway is what finally pushes you over the edge. 

With a loud cry, you roll your hips through your orgasm, writhing sensually on the crumpled sheets beneath you. 

After a heady moment, you remove your hands from your core and press them against the outside of your panties, making sure they’re wholly drenched for what you’re about to do.

When you look back up, the shadow is gone, and you know you’ve got him.

“How was your day?” you greet, barging into Caleb’s room with your hands behind your back. 

With his broad back toward you, he freezes briefly before relaxing. “It was alright, nothing much happened,” he shrugs, still not turning to face you. 

“Alright, huh?” you repeat. Clearly, he was in need of a little push. 

“You wanna know what I did today?” you start, a saccharine excitement in your voice. “Today I went through the load of laundry you washed for me yesterday. Do you want to guess what it had in common with the three loads before that?”

Tensing, Caleb finally turns around, a noticeable tremor in his idle hands. “It...smelled like detergent?” he jokes lamely, offering a weak smile. 

“Oh, cut the shit, Caleb,” you scoff, sauntering over to him. “I know. No excuses, no stupid jokes, no changing the subject. I know.”

A startled laugh falling from his lips, Caleb flits his eyes to the side before opening his mouth to respond. “Wh—”

“Shut it,” you intercept. “Now, I came in here to make a deal—an unfair deal, to be honest. It will benefit you much more than me.” Stepping closer, you grin at his wary expression before continuing. “If you admit you've been stealing my panties, you get to keep these. No catch,” you offer, waving your underwear, coated with the evidence of your earlier climax, in front of his face. 

Caleb’s eyes pop out of his skull. Dumbfounded, he stands staring down at you, opening and closing his mouth like he’s glitching.

“Hmm? I thought you liked these,” you mock. Placing a hand on his chest, you push his dazed form onto the bed behind him. Chuckling, you crawl up his body, panties threaded between your fingers. 

When you come face to face, you take his jaw in your other hand, angling it as if inspecting him. “Are you sick?” you pout. “Where’s your enthusiasm? Where’s the man who stole four pairs of panties out of my dirty laundry? One I could understand—to each their own—but four is just greedy, Caleb.”

Through his heaving breaths, all Caleb can respond with is a shuddering whimper. He looks up at you as if you’re about to smite him, and although you’re not, there’s something exhilarating about the visual. 

“No answer? What a bummer,” you sigh dramatically. With a mischievous wink, you tighten your grip on his chin. “That’s okay, though—I think I can find him.”

Slowly, you bring the hand holding your underwear up to hover right over his face. “Is he…here?” you ask, lightly tracing the lace hem of your panties around his jawline.

At the contact, Caleb’s breath hitches, and he lets out a pitiful, incoherent noise. 

“No? What about here?” you tease, now rubbing the fabric against his reddening cheek.

When he still doesn’t break, you click your tongue. “Still nothing?” you tut. “This guy’s a tough nut to crack. But don’t worry—I think I can find him right…here.” In one fluid motion, you grip Caleb’s chin and press your soaked panties to his face, the wettest patch directly over his nose and mouth. 

Caleb's eyes roll back into his head before he gives you what you’ve been waiting for. Jolting his hand out to grab your arm, he presses the fabric harder against his face as he bucks up into you. 

He inhales deeply before closing his eyes and, with his hand still wrapped around your wrist, pushes his tongue out to taste your leftover release.  

Moaning, he opens his mouth to suckle on your panties, and you coo down at him. “Aw, there he is,” you say, caressing his cheek with your free hand. “Just needed some guidance, hm? Needed to know I wasn't mad at you for using my dried slick to get off.” 

Whimpering through the material, he nods twice. 

“Good,” you praise as he nuzzles into your hand. “But!” you continue, ripping the fabric from his mouth, to which he groans from the loss of contact. 

“Remember what I told you. You can have these,” you say, dangling your underwear in his face and pulling away when he leans forward, “if you confess what you did.”

Violet eyes look up at you in panicked deliberation, and you can visibly see when his perversion overwhelms his pride. 

“W-when I did your laundry the last few times,” he starts timidly, voice hoarse from disuse. “I took…I didn’t mean to, I swear. They were just there and they smelled like you and I couldn’t stop.”

“Couldn’t stop what, Caleb?” you prod, brow raised. “What did you do with them?”

You know what he did with them. But you want to hear it from him.

“…I used them,” he admits, voice dropping to a whisper. “I brought them back here and I smelled them and…tasted them…pretended it was you. So I could come.” When he stops, his face is flushed scarlet. 

“Mm,” you hum, stroking his cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Thank you for telling me,” you praise, and he shivers under your touch. 

“You’ve been so good for me—I'll give you what I promised,” you say, folding your ruined panties and laying them neatly atop Caleb's chest.

Shuffling off of him, you head for the door before looking back. 

“And Caleb,” you call, “cotton cannot taste that good. Next time, just ask me for the real thing.” 

PART 2

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 1

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, choking

Trying out some tentacle smut for the first time 🙈

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

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One night, you're getting ready to go to sleep when you accidentally knock your chapstick off your nightstand. It clatters to the floor and rolls under your bed. Grabbing your phone, you turn on the flashlight and shine it underneath the frame. But when you look, there's nothing under your bed but dust bunnies. You definitely saw the chapstick roll under there but now it's just...gone. Now that you think about it, little things have been disappearing from your room lately. A few hair ties, the little rocks you found by the beach which you left on your dresser, the pen you were using to write in your journal. But you have no idea where those things could have gone. Maybe you're just imagining things?

Deciding to deal with your disappearing stuff in the morning, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. As you're settling into your nest of pillows and blankets, you think you hear a faint rustling sound in your room. Freezing, you strain your ears, listening for the sound but you're met with silence, punctuated only by your racing heart. It was probably just the sound of the sheets moving as you got comfortable, right?

You settle back into bed, willing your heart rate to slow down, and try to fall asleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, you decide that a good orgasm will probably distract you enough and help you relax. Flipping onto your back, you slip one hand into your underwear and start gently rubbing your clit. With the other, you reach under your shirt and knead one of your breasts, pinching and rolling the nipple.

As you start to get more and more wet, your breathing gets heavier and you let out a little moan. You're getting lost in the pleasure that's building inside you until you feel something cool and silky wrap around your ankle. Yelping, you scramble up into a kneeling position and quickly flick on the bedside lamp. Heart in your throat, you're ready to face whatever it was that touched you but nothing is there. Ever so slowly, you bend over the edge of your bed to peer underneath but there's nothing there either. Jeeze, you're definitely just going crazy at this point. Looking over at your lamp, debating whether or not you should just leave it on and try to sleep that way, you see your chapstick sitting right there on the nightstand. What the fuck?

You're contemplating the integrity of your sanity when you hear the rustling sound again. Whipping your head around, you see something reaching out from under your bed. Screaming, you scramble backwards, plastering yourself to the headboard. Gasping for breath, you stare at the freaking TENTACLE that's hovering at the foot of your bed. After a moment, it slowly uncurls its tip and drops something onto your sheets. It gently nudges the thing towards you and then retreats back a few feet.

For a moment, you stay frozen, afraid of what the tentacle will do next. But then, curiosity gets the better of you. Slowly, you reach out your hand towards the object and then snatch your arm back once you have it. Inspecting it, you realize it's a small, shiny pearl that you've never seen before. Where did this come from? And why is the tentacle giving it to you? Looking up, you see another tentacle reaching up from the other side of the bed and you gasp, shuffling back again. This one slowly reaches towards you but stops a few feet from you and drops another object on your bed. This time, when you inspect the object, you find it's a beautiful crystalline necklace pendant. Is it giving you gifts?

Too absorbed in the objects, you don't notice that the first tentacle has reached out to you again until it gently wraps around your wrist. Yelping, you try to pull away but it tightens its grip on your wrist. Then the other tentacle reaches up to your face and gently presses the tip to your lips as if to shush you. Too startled to react again, you stay frozen as the tentacle moves from your mouth to pat you on the head. Then it starts gently caressing your cheek while the first tentacle slowly winds around your wrist. As you try to control your breathing, you take a moment to inspect the tentacle wrapped around your arm. It’s inky black and the surface is cool and silky to the touch. The tip is about the width of your finger but it widens to about the diameter of your thigh towards the base. You also notice that it’s lined with suckers that get bigger as you scan further down the appendage until it disappears under the bed.

The tentacles actually feel kind of nice against your flushed skin and it’s being surprisingly gentle as it explores you. One of the tentacles lifts a strand of your hair, twirling it around the tip. The other slithers across the front of your shirt, bunching the fabric up as if testing the texture. Suddenly another tentacle appears by your leg and pokes at your toes. That tickles and causes you to giggle. It pauses, listening to you laugh and then does it again. You’re about to tell it to cut it out when the one playing with your shirt snakes under the hem and up your stomach. Freezing, you hold still as it winds around your breast and then flicks your nipple with the tip as it squeezes. Gasping, you let out a little moan because that actually feels really good.

This is probably so many levels of wrong but you don’t get time to contemplate your sanity any further because another tentacle snakes up your leg and into your underwear. Before you can jerk away, the tip slides through your wetness and tickles your clit. It gives you a few flicks and then attaches one of the suction cups on the end to your bud. Gently pulling until the suction cup pops off, it repeats the action several more times, pausing to flick your clit now and again. Groaning, you realize you’re still wound up from your earlier unfinished masturbation and need some release. Deciding to say fuck it and let this monster do what it wants with you, you sink back into the pillows while it continues to explore you.

As you get lost in the pleasure of one tentacle on your clit and two more on your breasts, you feel more wrap around your ankles. They gently pull you down, spreading your legs wide as even more wrap around your wrists, doing the same so that you’re now bound, spread eagle in the middle of your bed. You should be afraid, and you are a little, but yet another tentacle reaches up into your underwear, plunging into your pussy and there’s not a single coherent thought in your head. A moment later the bedside lamp flicks off and your room is plunged into darkness. Now you can’t see anything and you can’t do anything except lie there listening to the wet sounds of tentacles fucking you as you feel them slithering across your skin.

You writhe and moan as tentacles squeeze and tickle your nipples and clit, while others suction to your stomach and thighs, making loud popping sounds as they pull off and reattach themselves. The one in your pussy plunges in and out, curling inside you, trying to fit as much of itself in you as it can. The more it pushes inside, the more your walls stretch around its girth and the sensation of fullness becomes overwhelming. Eventually, the tip inside you finds your g spot and you cry out as it flicks the spot over and over again. 

Yet another tentacle wraps around your throat and gently squeezes, not enough to completely suffocate you but just enough to make it a little difficult to breathe. Completely at the monster’s mercy, with your entire body pinned down while it fucks you, your pleasure erupts and you come harder than you ever have before. You arch your back as your walls clench around it while the orgasm washes over you. When you finally come down, you sag into your bed, completely spent and satisfied. You feel one of the tentacles reach up and caress your cheek again as you quickly drift off into a heavy sleep.

The next morning, you wake up with a start, memories of the night before turning your cheeks pink with embarrassment and arousal. It must have been a dream because there’s no way that happened. But when you lift your shirt, you see little round sucker marks covering your skin. Smiling to yourself, you get up and start getting ready for the day, hoping your new guest visits you again tonight.

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Well this was supposed to just be a few paragraphs of smut but then I kinda got into introducing the tentacle monster lol 🤷‍♀️

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[angelltheninth]

Levi Ackerman Cleans You Up After Sex

"Disgusting." Levi scoffed as he reached for the tissues to clean the cum of his freshly drained cock. "Why does sex have to feel so good but be so gross?" It really baffled him. Just the sight of your pussy dripping onto the sheets was nearly enough for him to tell you to close your legs.

When he was done he grabbed your hips to flip you over. You smirked up at him as you spread your legs open at let all that thick cum flow onto the sheets that he so carefully folded that morning. Sheets that were now ruined, one side hanging off the bed, the other side still a little bunched up from where you gripped it with your fists.

This was without a doubt his least favorite part of sex. But it was also hot in way, on the deepest, most primal level.

"Levi, look at all the mess you made." You teased him before he got a new tissue and moved his hands between your legs. But you slapped it away and took some of the cum on your fingers and into your mouth. Levi looked at with contempt.

"Stop that." He pulled your hand away and pinned it beside your head.

You grinned wider. "What? I'm just cleaning up the mess."

"Leave that to me. You should relax." He commanded as he applied gentle pressure on your abused pussy. As careful as he was to not touch your sensitive clit he still brushed it accidentally. "Excuse me. I'm trying to be thorough."

"It's fine. I never mind it when you touch me." You still let out a quiet whimper when he pressed his fingers inside slightly, intent on cleaning all of you, every part he made dirty.

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

[ceramini]

i needdd subby sunghoon… him being all whiny and teary eyed lorddd

GET THE FUCK OUT OMG.. can lie ive never written sub hoon so this might be a little out of his character, but he would genuinely be so hot and his voice is all raspy and shit.. ugh 😍😍

cw ✦ edgingㆍdacryphiliaㆍoverstimㆍmuscle worship ㆍ begging ㆍcockwarmingㆍpraise kinkㆍenjoyyy >0< like + reblog

He swears he was doing fine twenty minutes ago.

But now he’s laid out across the mattress, broad chest rising and falling hard, sweat slicked along his throat, his hands gripping the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You’re sitting over his hips, barely grinding, just enough to keep his cock inside you without letting him thrust. He’s been edged twice, his abs tight from holding back, cock leaking and twitching in your heat while you keep whispering how pretty he looks when he cries for it.

“Fuck, baby, I—” he gasps, voice breaking like a ragged breath. “I need you. I need to move. Please let me.”

You hum and lean forward, dragging your nails down the thick swell of his chest. “You don’t sound like you’re in charge, Hoon.”

He groans, loud and low, almost frustrated.

“I could flip us over right now,” he pants, but his arms never move. “Could fuck you stupid, make you scream—”

You clench on purpose. His whole body jolts.

“Then why don’t you?” you whisper against his neck.

His jaw clenches. Eyes squeeze shut.

“‘Cause I want you to let me,” he says, voice cracking again. “Want you to want me like this.”

You look down at him, red in the face, lashes wet, lips parted and kiss-swollen, his toned arms trembling with restraint. He looks too pretty like this. Way too pretty to deny.

“You like seeing me like this, huh?” he murmurs, not even teasing anymore. “All needy. All fucked-out. All yours.”

You smile, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the way he shudders under your touch.

“I love seeing you like this, baby.”

You lift your hips, just enough to slide down onto him properly, and he gasps, eyes fluttering, arms finally wrapping around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Cum for me, hoon.”

And when you say it.

He breaks.

His body arches off the mattress, mouth falling open with a loud, broken moan, tears streaking the corners of his eyes as he cums hard, hot and deep, buried inside you, chanting your name like a prayer.

You stay wrapped around him, stroking his cheek, whispering soft praise as he trembles beneath you.

All big, needy muscle. All yours.

Always.

nini’s note 🗒️ ive come to the conclusion that this isnt my style.. when it comes to hoon, but if yall genuinely like sub hoon I’ll write for him more 🥀🥀 I just felt like this was a little cringier than my other hoon fics where hes a dom?? idk someone compare them for me and let me know !! :/

[bakuhve]

royal treatment

leona kingscholar x reader smut

after a hectic week, you’re exhausted and missing your boyfriend. one late night text from him changes everything, and he’s ready to remind you just how much you mean to him, in every way possible.

warnings/tags: NSFW, established relationship, soft dom! leona, praise kink, worship kink, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), spit play, breeding kink, mating press, possessive behavior, aftercare

your shoes scuffed against the dirt trail as you trudged toward ramshackle dorm, each step heavier than the last. the moon hung low and silvery above night raven college, casting eerie shadows over the gnarled trees. it was late, too late for anyone to be wandering the grounds, but this had become your normal.

you sighed, breath visible in the chilly air. this week had been chaos. grim nearly set the alchemy lab on fire, ace and deuce dragged you into another disciplinary hearing, and crowley- bless his useless heart- had unloaded another week’s worth of chores onto your lap with that infuriating “it builds character” grin.

and through all of it you hadn’t seen your boyfriend, leona, once. not really.

a passing glance in the hallway. a gruff text that you didn’t have time to respond to until hours later. you were too busy. too needed. running yourself ragged like some glorified campus babysitter while your boyfriend lounged somewhere in savanaclaw, probably napping under the sun with no idea how badly you missed him.

your hand reached for ramshackle’s rusty doorknob, heart aching for rest- and maybe a bit of affection that hadn’t been possible all week.

that’s when your phone buzzed.

[leona:] Come to Savanaclaw.

no explanation. just a command.

you stood there for a second, half of you wanting to crawl into bed and pass out for the rest of the night, the other half already moving on instinct. you knew that tone- even in writing. he wasn’t just calling you over for company. this was different. he’d been quiet all week, letting you run around campus like a glorified errand girl. he hadn’t complained, hadn’t whined or dragged you away, hadn’t even sent his usual “you’re doing too much” texts.

this was his way of saying he’d had enough.

you didn’t even bother texting back. he wouldn’t need it. he’d know the second you stepped inside.

by the time you slipped through the savanaclaw mirror, your steps quickened. the dorm was dim inside, lit only by a few flickering orange lanterns. most of the students were asleep- except you knew exactly which room wouldn’t be.

you stopped in front of it, taking a deep breath before opening the door. you didn’t knock, you never had to.

inside, the room smelled like sun-warmed sheets, dry grass, and faint traces of something wild and rich and unmistakably leona. he was sprawled on the bed, shirtless, one arm beneath his head, the other resting lazily on his stomach. loose sleep pants clung low to his hips, his tail swaying in a slow and idle rhythm behind him. his eyes were low and heavy-lidded, but there was no teasing smile waiting for you. just a slow, unreadable stare that pinned you in place.

“shut the door.”

his voice was quiet. rough with sleep- or restraint.

you obeyed before you even realized you were moving, with a soft click of the latch echoing the stillness between you.

his piercing eyes stayed on you, unblinking. not predatory- something deeper. like he was trying to memorize the shape of you, standing there at his door in the dead of night with exhaustion hanging off your shoulders.

“c’mere, herbivore.”

you walked to him, slowly. not because you were unsure, but because something about the way he spoke made your chest ache. it wasn’t the usual lazy drawl he used when he wanted attention. it was quieter and rougher, like he’d been holding this in. like if he said too much, too fast, he’d crack.

when you reached the edge of the bed, he sat up- fluid and slow, all coiled strength and golden heat. his hand reached out, brushing your waist. then he looked up to you, his thumb grazing just under the hem of your shirt, not asking to take it off- just touching. just grounding himself in the feel of you.

“you’ve been running yourself to the ground,” he muttered. his hands rose to your hips, settling there like he was afraid you might tip over if he let go. “doing everyone’s job but your own. all that weight on your shoulders… and not a single dumbass thinks to carry it for you.”

he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to your stomach. one hand moved to the back of your thigh, the other pulling you closer by the curve of your hip. when he spoke again, it vibrated against your skin.

“let me take care of you tonight. no fightin’ me on it.” his voice was a low growl as his hands slid up your sides, warm and rough palms that somehow felt like they were tracing the very soul of you. his gaze was dark and hungry.

he gently guided you onto the bed with an unexpected slow care. his hands worked under your shirt, lifting it over your head, but he never rushed. never pulled you too quickly, even though the need in his eyes was unmistakable.

you could feel the heat radiating off him as you let him undress you. “leona…” you murmured softly, letting out a slow breath as you met his eyes. “i’ve missed you.” the words slipped out, your exhaustion from the week catching up with the overwhelming pull of his presence.

leona’s emerald eyes softened at that, his lips curling into something more tender than you’d expected. “yeah? been missin’ you, too.” he pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing a little heavier now as he let his hands roam over your skin. “been workin’ yourself too hard. not gonna let you keep going like this.”

you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped as he kissed your collarbone, his lips gentle but insistent as he slowly worked his way down, exploring the bare skin beneath his fingers.

“let me make you feel good,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “don’t have to do a damn thing but let me.”

your fingers curled into the sheets as you tried to push aside the fatigue and let him, to let go like he was asking. you let your head fall back against the pillow, a shiver running through your body as his hands slid down your hips, gently guiding you closer to him. “you always know how to make me feel better.”

leona gave a low chuckle, his lips brushing over your neck as he kissed you there, slow and reverent. “that’s ‘cause you deserve to feel good. my pretty little herbivore, always takin’ care of everyone else.”

his lips found your shoulder, and this kiss felt like an anchor- soft and reassuring. his hands were slow and careful as he slid your pants down, lifting you just enough.

“i’ve got you,” he murmured against your skin.

you couldn’t help but let out a breath, your body already reacting to the slow, deliberate pace. “i trust you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it felt like the most honest thing you could say.

leona’s eyes darkened, his chest pressing against yours as he kissed you deeply, almost hungrily now- but still in that caring way. “good,” he rumbled. “now let me show you just how much i need you.”

“you’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, while his hands found the clasp of your bra. with a quick, practiced motion, he freed you from the fabric. his fingers traced the curves of your body, feeling the soft swell of your breasts before leaning down to press a kiss between them.

you gasped, arching your back just slightly as you felt his hands gently cup your breasts, squeezing softly, and you moaned at the sensation.

leona’s eyes locked onto you, his gaze dark with hunger and admiration, he lowered himself even further, his lips brushing over the soft flesh of your chest, tasting and worshipping each inch of you as if he couldn’t get enough. “you don’t know how much i’ve wanted this all week,” he whispered, voice thick with longing. “to have you, to take care of you like you deserve.”

his mouth found your nipple, teasing it with soft kisses before he finally wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. you arched your chest further into him, your fingers threading into his hair as a shiver ran through you.

leona let out a soft groan, his grip tightening as he lavished attention to the other breast, his hands kneading and massaging, making you squirm beneath him in pleasure. “so fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin.

you could feel the tension burning in your core, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. his lips moved between your breasts, trailing kisses along your skin as his hands slid lower, brushing against your stomach, teasing the waistband of your panties.

he pulled away just long enough to look down at you, his eyes heavy with desire. “tell me how you feel,” he demanded, his voice soft but firm. “i need to hear it.”

“feels so good,” you breathed, voice shaky. “so good, leona…”

a low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest at your answer. “yeah?” he murmured, lips brushing against your navel now. “i’m just gettin’ started, herbivore.”

his thumbs hooked under your panties, and he dragged them down slow like he wanted to savor the moment. like unwrapping something precious. he dropped them to the floor, then nudged your thighs apart, settling between them as if he belonged there. as if this was where he should be.

“been thinkin’ about this all week,” he muttered, voice thick with restraint. “thinkin’ about how sweet you’d taste when you’ve been workin’ yourself ragged.”

and then he leaned in, brushing his mouth against your inner thigh first- featherlight kisses that had your hips twitching. his tongue flicked out to taste the soft skin there, and you gasped, already breathless before he even touched where you needed him most.

when he finally kissed your clit, slow and deliberate, it made you jerk. he didn’t tease- not this time. he latched on gently with his lips and sucked, firm and controlled, like he was easing you into it.

you moaned, fingers fisting the sheets as your thighs tried to close on instinct. but his hands were already there, holding them open, thumbs stroking softly along your skin to calm you.

“sensitive little thing,” he murmured against you with a grin in his voice, kissing your clit again. “you always get like this when i haven’t touched you in a while.”

you whimpered in response, your hips arching, chasing the heat of his mouth. he licked a long, slow stripe up your folds, savoring the taste with a groan, before burying his face against you more firmly. his tongue worked in slow, practiced motions- deep, unhurried, worshipful.

and when he slid two fingers into you, it made your back arch off the mattress. he curled them just right, the pads of his fingers stroking that sweet, spongy spot with devastating precision as his mouth stayed glued to your clit, licking and sucking in rhythm with each thrust.

“that’s it,” he cooed between licks.

you cried out, legs trembling as your body tightened around his fingers, the pleasure already coiling fast in your belly. it was overwhelming how he touched you- so thorough, so attentive, like he didn’t want to miss a single reaction.

and all the while, he kept whispering praises between strokes of his tongue.

“tastin’ even sweeter than i remember…” he nipped at your clit.

“this cute little pussy missed me, huh?” he increased his pace.

“you always clench around my fingers like this?” his half-lidded eyes opened to peer up at you, taking in every reaction.

“that’s it baby… fall apart for me.”

the orgasm hit hard, sharp and blinding, your back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.

“leona-!”

but he didn’t stop.

even as your body trembled beneath him, even as your thighs shook and your muscles clenched around his fingers, he kept going. his tongue stayed firmly on your clit, flicking and sucking through every wave that rolled through you, dragging your high out mercilessly.

“that’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice like velvet and fire. “give it all to me.”

you whimpered, half-begging, half-moan, your hips twitching from the sensitivity. but his fingers stayed buried deep inside you, still stroking that tender spot while his mouth worked you over with maddening skill.

it was too much. too sharp. too good.

your legs instinctively tried to close again, but leona growled low in his throat and held them open with ease.

“nuh-uh,” he muttered, lips slick against your folds. “you don’t get to run now, herbivore. not after you’ve been makin’ me wait all week.”

you squirmed beneath him, your voice breaking. “leona- please, i can’t-”

he looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded but warm, a smug softness in his smirk that made your stomach flutter.

“you can,” he said, kissing your inner thigh again before going right back to your swollen clit. “you’re gonna give me another. you’re not done yet.”

his tongue and fingers were relentless now, coaxing every bit of pleasure from your overstimulated pussy.

your voice cracked again as the pressure built, even sharper than before, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

“fuck- leona-”

“come on, sweetheart,” he whispered, lifting his head just enough to speak against your core. “give your lion one more. be my good girl.”

and with that- one firm flick of his tongue, one perfectly angled stroke of his fingers, you shattered again.

the second orgasm ripped through you, white-hot and overwhelming. you sobbed out his name as your vision blurred, your whole body trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

“that’s it,” he growled softly, finally slowing his pace, though his fingers still stayed inside you, coaxing you through the aftershocks. “did so good for me.”

your chest heaved as you blinked through the haze, your body limp, dazed, and trembling under his hands. he gently withdrew his fingers, and you whimpered at the emptiness, even through the lingering sensitivity.

leona leaned up over you, licking his fingers clean in a way that made your core flutter all over again. then his hands braced on either side of your head as he hovered above you, his green eyes searching your face, softer now.

“you still with me?” he asked, like this part mattered most.

you gave him a shaky nod, your voice breathless. “yeah… yeah, i’m with you.”

his lips curved faintly. “good.” he kissed you deep and slow, letting you feel the way his body trembled now too. “need to be inside you, baby. need to feel you for real.”

you whimpered against his mouth, nodding, already reaching down to tug his boxers down. he helped you, shrugging them off with a low groan, his cock springing free- thick, flushed, and aching for you. he gripped it at the base, giving himself a slow stroke as he settled himself between your thighs, lining himself up.

“tell me you want this,” he said again, voice husky and firm.

“i want you,” you whispered, gazing up at him. “need you, leona.”

he pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a shaky breath like he’d been holding it in for hours.

“that’s my girl.”

with one slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed in.

your breath caught, your nails digging into his arms as he filled you inch by inch- stretching you perfectly, deeply, until he was seated fully inside, his pelvis flush with yours.

a strained groan tore from his throat, and his head dropped to your shoulder as he stilled, just for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself.

“shit,” he breathed, “you feel like heaven…”

he kissed your collarbone, your jaw, your lips- soothing, adoring- as he began to move. slow, deep thrusts that made you feel every inch of him, the warmth of his body covering yours like a blanket, anchoring you to the bed.

“been wantin’ this all damn week,” he rasped into your ear. “thinkin’ about how tight you’d be… how pretty you’d sound when i finally got back inside you.”

you moaned, arms wrapped tight around his back, drawing him in even closer as your hips rolled to meet his rhythm.

“leona…”

“i got you,” he murmured, “gonna take care of you, baby. gonna make it all better.”

leona kept his pace steady, grinding his hips just right, hitting all the perfect spots with every roll of his body. his eyes were lidded but focused, devouring you with every flutter of your lashes, every broken moan you gave him in return.

“c’mon,” he whispered, brushing your hair back with one hand. “lemme feel you cum on me. you can do that for me, right?”

your breath hitched, the pressure in your core pulling tight, trembling.

“leona- ah, i’m-”

he kissed you hard just as your body snapped again, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave. you gasped into his mouth, nails raking down his back as your walls clenched around him, milking him with desperate need.

he didn’t stop, just growled- low and wrecked- then shifted.

in one fluid motion, he sat up on his knees and lifted your legs, folding them back near your chest. his hands gripped the back of your knees, locking you into place as he drove back into you in one deep and hungry thrust.

“fuck-” you whimpered, the new angle punching the breath out of your lungs.

“that’s it,” leona groaned, watching the way your tits bounced with every thrust, the way your eyes glazed from overstimulation. “gonna keep you like this… take all of me. just like that.”

your moans pitched higher, body already too sensitive- but it didn’t matter. not when he was looking at you like that. not when he was hitting so deep it felt like you could feel him in your stomach.

“you’re squeezin’ me so tight, pretty thing…” he growled, sweat beading on his brow. “like your body’s beggin’ me to fill you up.”

he bent over you, still pressing your legs back, mouth brushing against your jaw as he picked up the pace- harder now, rougher. the bed creaked beneath you, and you couldn’t focus on anything except him. the way he filled you so completely it blurred the edges of your thoughts.

leona’s gaze dropped to your lips, then your eyes, and something possessive flashed behind emerald.

“open up for me,” he rasped, his voice wrecked and low.

you obeyed without thinking, lips parting, tongue just barely peeking out in anticipation.

he leaned in, just enough to let a slow string of spit drip from his mouth to yours- hot, thick, deliberate. it landed on your tongue in a warm line, and you whimpered at the sheer intimacy of it, your body clenching around him.

leona watched you swallow it with a low, throaty groan, his eyes blazing.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, possessive and fond all at once. “takin’ everything i give you so good, herbivore.”

then he kissed you again- messy, breathless, claiming- before rutting back into you with renewed hunger.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled against your mouth. “you’re mine.”

your answer was a whimper, your fingers curling into the sheets as he drove deeper into you, like he was carving the feeling of him into your very core.

then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit. he rubbed it in firm circles, making your hips jerk beneath him.

“one more for me,” he murmured, voice fraying at the edges. “c’mon, sweet girl. wanna feel you fall apart while i fill you up.”

your body was trembling, toes curling, every nerve alive and singing. the overstimulation was too much and not enough, and the way he was looking down at you like you were something sacred, something his- shoved you toward the final edge.

“l-leona-!”

“i know,” he cooed, fingers moving faster now, his thrusts growing more desperate. “gonna make you mine. gonna put it so deep you’ll feel me for days.”

your orgasm hit like lightning- white hot and overwhelming. you cried out, thighs shaking as your walls clamped down around him, squeezing tight and relentless.

leona snarled as you pulsed around him, his rhythm faltering just once before he drove in deep, hips flush to yours, cock buried to the hilt.

“fuck- take it,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he came with a shudder. “take all of it.”

you could feel the warmth of him flood inside you, thick and hot, his hips grinding lazily as if to make sure none of it went to waste. his fingers stayed on your clit, coaxing every last aftershock from you even as your body trembled beneath him.

his lips brushed against your cheek, panting. “that’s it, baby,” he whispered. “you did so fuckin’ good… all mine.”

you didn’t even remember when your legs were finally let go, only that the weight of leona collapsed beside you moments later- warm and solid, his arm sliding beneath your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest.

“easy now,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. his voice was rough, but the gentleness settled into your bones. “you still breathin’? need water?”

you managed a tired hum and a small shake of your head, your cheek resting against his shoulder. your body ached in the best way- every inch of you was humming with satisfaction.

leona’s palm smoothed over your back in lazy circles, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. you felt his tail curl around your leg loosely, more instinct than thought, and it made you smile sleepily.

“i love you…” you murmured, lips barely forming words.

he exhaled, the sound heavy but soft. “i know. i love you too.”

you felt the press of his lips- first to your hair, then your shoulder, then your cheek. a trail of kisses spoke louder than anything he could say aloud. his hands never left you, holding you securely, like he needed to keep feeling your warmth against him.

within minutes, your breathing slowed, evened out, your body fully relaxing in his arms. sleep pulled you under without resistance, safe and surrounded.

leona stayed awake a little longer, watching you. how peaceful you looked, no responsibilities dragging you down, no summons or tasks barking your name.

then he heard a buzz of your phone.

without moving much, he reached over and retrieved it from where it had fallen near the edge of the bed. the screen was lit with a message.

[crowley]: Need you in the main hall first thing in the morning- urgent errand. Sorry, prefect!

leona stared at it for a moment, green eyes narrowing.

“tch. not tonight.”

he swiped it away and deleted the message before you could ever see it.

[nhmkhnh]

KILLSHOT.

CHARACTERS: VI ;; CAITLYN KIRAMMAN ;; CASSANDRA KIRAMMAN ;; SEVIKA ;; JINX ;; AMBESSA MEDARDA ;; ELLIE WILLIAMS ;; ABBY ANDERSON ;; MIZU ;; CLAIRE REDFIELD ;; JILL VALENTINE ;; ADA WONG ;; CHLOE PRICE.

PAIRINGS: ALL X SUB!FEM!READER (one for each scenario)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: alright i just write some bonuses for resident evil andd life is strange ladies, enjoy!

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: hybrid!characters ;; predator/prey dynamic ;; possessive behavior ;; knotting implications ;; scenting/marking ;; heat/rut themes ;; size kink ;; breeding kink ;; power imbalance ;; strap-on sex ;; rough sex ;; pet names (too much i don't remember haha.)

navigation.

vi (german shepherd) - sfw ver.

vi’s tail thumped the floor the second she heard you stir.

you’d barely shifted in the tangle of sheets before she was there—eyes glowing amber in the dim early light, ears perked, claws tapping softly against the floor as she moved. she crouched beside the bed like something wild, but it wasn’t menace that rolled off her. it was reverence.

“you awake, pup?” her voice was gravel and morning warmth, and when you peeked one eye open, she smiled like it was sunrise just for her.

you murmured something sleepy—nonsense, probably—and tried to turn over again. but vi didn’t let you. big hands found your waist, and she hauled you into her arms like you were weightless, curling around you, nose burying into your neck. a soft rumble left her chest as she scented you.

she always did this. every morning. as if checking you were still hers.

“you smell like sleep,” she grunted, licking a slow stripe up your nape. “like mine.”

you squirmed in her hold, giggling—but her grip only tightened.

“stay. just a little longer,” she whispered, voice caught somewhere between prayer and command. “don’t make me growl, baby.”

you didn’t move.

you never really could, not when she held you like this.

vi (german shepherd) - smut ver.

you weren’t supposed to tease her.

you knew that. you knew that. but when you bent over the table to reach for the candle, ass high, tail of your little house dress flicking up—

vi snapped.

one second she was on the other side of the kitchen. the next, your chest was slammed flat against the counter, cheek pressed to cold wood, a hot breath steaming across your nape.

“you tryna make me lose it, huh?” she growled, voice barely human anymore, more beast than woman. her claws dug into the wood beside your face. “wigglin’ that pretty little thing like i won’t fuckin’ take it.”

“vi—” you started, breath hitching, but the rest was swallowed in a gasp when her hand shoved between your thighs.

already wet. of course you were. she huffed a low, dangerous laugh.

“yeah. that’s what i thought.”

she didn’t even undress you. just ripped your panties to the side and shoved your legs wider, making you stand on tiptoes, shaking under her grip. her teeth grazed your shoulder, then sank in—not hard enough to break skin, but deep enough to claim.

“you’re not leavin’ this house with anyone smellin’ but me,” she snarled, grinding herself against you. you felt the strap—thick, already slick from her heat and pre-lubed because she’d been waiting.

“vi—!” you cried again, but this time it broke into a moan.

and that did it.

she plunged into you in one brutal thrust.

“mine,” she growled against your spine. “say it. say you belong to me.”

you choked on her name, wrecked and shaking and so full.

and when she snarled, “good girl,” and started fucking into you like she wanted to split your soul in half—

—you realized that this beast never wanted to tame you.

just ruin you. again and again.

caitlyn kiramman (black panther) - sfw ver.

you didn’t hear her come in.

you never did.

one second you were in the middle of folding towels—barefoot, hair messy, humming some little song under your breath—and the next, there was a shadow behind you. a shape. a presence. something cold and watchful.

your breath caught.

“don’t stop on my account,” caitlyn murmured, voice as smooth as smoke, as velvet as the fur that lined her ears. you felt the brush of her claw at your lower back, tracing the hem of your shirt. “i was enjoying the view.”

“caitlyn,” you whispered, heart hammering.

she circled you. slow. purposeful. like a cat toying with its mouse—not out of cruelty, but devotion. worship.

“you know better than to leave your door unlocked.” her pupils were slits now. her tail swayed lazily. “someone might wander in.”

your voice came out small. “you’re not someone.”

her smile was dangerous. sharp.

“no,” she agreed. “i’m not.”

she took the towel from your hands.

and you didn’t resist when she pulled you gently into her arms.

caitlyn kiramman (black panther) - smut ver.

she told you not to run.

and you did anyway.

you were laughing, breathless, barefoot on the cold marble of the estate halls. somewhere deep down, you knew she’d catch you. that caitlyn kiramman—black panther hybrid, top of the food chain, crown of piltover’s underworld—never failed the hunt.

but the thrill of it was electric.

then the lights went out.

you didn’t scream. but you felt her—just behind you, shadows rippling, the barest sound of claws against tile.

“little thing,” her voice purred from the dark. “you think i don’t know how fast your heart’s beating?”

you spun.

too slow.

she tackled you flat to the floor, caged between her arms, nose pressed to your neck, inhaling.

“you’re dripping,” she murmured, low and victorious. “terrified. turned on.”

she grinded down against you slowly, deliberately, the outline of her strap thick and pulsing through the silk of her robe. she licked your throat. “do you know what it means when a panther catches her prey?”

you whimpered, nodding faintly.

“no,” she said, darkly amused. “say it.”

you swallowed hard. “it means she… gets to do anything she wants.”

caitlyn chuckled. then leaned in to whisper against your lips:

“correct.”

she pinned your wrists with one hand, hiked your nightdress up with the other, and sank into you in one slow, brutal thrust.

no mercy. just the sound of slick heat, your moans echoing down the hall, and the growl of a satisfied beast claiming what was hers.

“you’ll never run again,” caitlyn rasped, fangs grazing your skin. “not unless you want me to chase.”

cassandra kiramman (white tigress) - sfw ver.

“i… i’m sorry,” you mumbled, backing away from the mess, but she was already there. slow. tall. barefoot on cold tile. her tail swayed with lazy grace, fur catching the sunlight like snowdrift silk.

her clawed hand reached out—not to strike, not to scold. to cup your cheek.

“you flinch,” she said softly. too softly. “as if i would ever raise a hand to you.”

“i didn’t mean to—”

cassandra didn’t let you finish. she leaned in. inhaled deeply at your neck.

“do you know,” she murmured, brushing her nose along your skin, “how loud your heartbeat gets when you’re afraid?”

you were shaking. not from fear.

her lips ghosted your ear.

“…i love that sound.”

cassandra kiramman (white tigress) - smut ver.

it started with her scent.

something in the air. something wrong. you felt dizzy. weak in the knees. your pulse spiked, and before you could make sense of it, cassandra was already at your back, pressing you against her bedroom wall.

she hadn’t even touched you yet, and your thighs were slick.

“my little human,” she whispered, voice thick with heat. “your body is screaming for me.”

you couldn’t think. her claws raked lightly down your arm, not enough to hurt—just enough to claim. her breath was hot at your throat. her fangs barely grazed.

“i’ve gone into heat,” she whispered. “you’ve smelled it, haven’t you? sweet little prey can always tell when their queen is starving.”

“cassandra—” you whimpered.

“no.” her hand slammed between your thighs. “say mistress.”

you choked on the word as she lifted you off the floor like you weighed nothing, pinning you to the wall with just her hips and strength and the sheer force of her need.

she split you open with one deep, deliberate thrust of her strap—too big, too slow—and still not enough.

“you’ll take all of me,” cassandra hissed, licking at the tears threatening your lashes. “because i have waited too long to taste what’s mine.”

she rutted into you with a growl, primal and unrelenting, one hand squeezing your throat, the other holding your waist like she’d die before letting go.

“you’re not leaving this room,” she purred, breath ragged. “not until i’ve bred this heat into you.”

sevika (apex) - sfw ver.

you weren’t allowed to walk home alone.

not anymore.

not since sevika saw the scratch on your arm—tiny, barely even bled. but she’d stared at it for a full minute, tail low and stiff, before growling something too guttural to be human.

now she sat on the steps outside your place, every damn night, smoke curling from her lips, eyes tracking every soul that walked by like they were already marked for the grave.

“you don't gotta do this,” you mumbled one night, offering her your blanket. she didn’t move, just stared at you. ears twitching.

“i do gotta,” she said finally, voice deep and rough. “you’re mine.”

you opened your mouth, but she cut you off with a low, warning growl.

“don’t argue. i ain’t ever been good. but i can be useful. let me guard what’s mine.”

you blinked.

she looked away, smoke shrouding her face.

the blanket was still warm in your hands.

sevika (apex) - smut ver.

you’d been teasing her all night.

calling her “puppy.”

patting her head.

running your fingers through her fur and then walking away like you didn’t know what it did to her.

now you were on her lap, straddling thighs like tree trunks, and sevika’s claws were dug into your hips, her teeth bared in a snarl so low it vibrated through your chest.

“you think this is funny?” she rasped. “think you can play with a beast like me?”

you whimpered.

she leaned in, nose dragging along your neck, scenting you like she’d die without it. her breathing hitched—something primal and broken—and then her teeth sank into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

“you started this,” sevika growled, shifting under you—and then you felt it: thick, heavy, strapped in and soaked with her need. “now sit the fuck down.”

you barely managed a gasp before she grabbed your waist and slammed you down on her strap in one vicious thrust. your body arched, mouth open in a silent scream.

“yeah,” she grunted, holding you there. deep. unrelenting. “that’s what i fuckin’ thought.”

she didn’t move.

not at first.

she just held you there, stuffed full, watching you writhe.

“you wanted to play with a beast?” she snarled into your ear. “now take your fucking punishment.”

and then she started moving—using your body like her personal toy, dragging cries from you with every thrust that felt like it rattled your bones.

“i’ll ruin you so good,” she hissed. “you’ll never tease me again without beggin’ for what comes after.”

ambessa medarda (lioness) - sfw ver.

you were never supposed to meet her eyes.

that was rule number one.

so naturally, the first thing you did when they introduced you to general medarda was look straight into them.

gold. burning. terrifying.

she laughed. low. dangerous.

“bold little thing,” ambessa purred, circling you like you were a piece of meat she wasn’t quite sure whether to devour or keep. her claws clicked softly on the marble. “i like that.”

you swallowed.

everyone else cleared the room.

she stalked closer. her tail flicked once. then again.

“you know what happens to prey that catches a lioness’s eye, don’t you?”

you shook your head.

ambessa leaned in, breath hot against your neck, voice a whisper of teeth.

“they don’t leave her bed.”

ambessa medarda (lioness) - smut ver.

she let you crawl into her lap.

that was your first mistake.

ambessa didn’t stop you. didn’t say a word as you straddled her thick thighs and kissed your way up her throat like you had any power at all.

and then—her hands gripped your hips.

tight.

immovable.

“you want to play queen?” she growled, voice low, smile sharp. “then take what you asked for.”

her strap was already pressed to your folds, thick and hot and ungodly long, slick from her own pre-heat arousal. you barely had time to blink before she slammed you down on it with a single brutal thrust.

you screamed.

ambessa didn’t stop. she didn’t let you breathe. one massive hand held your throat as the other lifted and dropped you onto her cock like you weighed nothing.

“you’ll ride me,” she snarled into your mouth. “or i’ll use you like a toy until you forget your own name.”

you whimpered.

“louder,” she barked. her fangs grazed your shoulder. “let them hear who owns you now.”

you couldn’t form words.

didn’t matter.

she fucked them out of you.

over and over. until you were trembling, sobbing, soaked and broken open, her hand tangled in your hair and her voice murmuring against your ruined lips:

“look at you. all wrecked. and i haven’t even bred you yet.”

jinx (hyena) - sfw ver.

“jinx—jinx no—jinx don’t bite that—!”

too late.

your poor pillow suffered a fatal neck snap as jinx rolled across the bed, snarling playfully, tail wagging, your shirt halfway up her torso and her face buried in your laundry pile.

she popped up with a grin, something lacy clenched between her teeth.

“yours?” she asked, mouth full.

you tried to grab it.

she bolted, leaping across the room and landing like a wildcat on the dresser, giggling madly. her claws clicked as she crouched.

“you smell so good,” she said, tongue flicking over her fangs. “makes me wanna bite.”

you crossed your arms. “bite what?”

she jumped down, right in front of you, eyes blown wide and bright with hunger.

“whatever part you’ll let me keep.”

jinx (hyena) - smut ver.

you should’ve known better than to straddle her lap.

she was panting before you even touched her. eyes wide. muscles twitching under her freckled skin like she was about to explode.

“you sure?” she asked, but her claws were already cutting through your panties like they were paper.

you nodded.

“okay,” she chirped, all teeth. “too late now!”

she pounced.

one second you were on top—the next, you were flat on your back, wrists pinned over your head with one clawed hand, your legs forced wide by her shoulder and the huge fucking strap she hadn’t even warned you about.

“got this specially made,” she hissed against your throat. “extra long. extra mean.”

“j-jinx—”

she slammed into you.

you screamed.

she howled.

she started rutting into you like a creature possessed, laughing breathlessly between thrusts, licking up your tears and biting your neck so hard you knew there’d be bruises. her free hand grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at her.

“mine now,” she purred. “my favorite little chew toy.”

she didn’t slow down.

not even when your legs started shaking. not even when you begged.

“can’t stop,” she gasped, still pounding into you like her life depended on it. “it’s heat season, baby—‘n you smell too sweet to leave untouched.”

and when you cried her name, trembling and spent?

she licked your lips and whispered—

“round two’s gunna be messier.”

ellie williams (wolf) - sfw ver.

you found her in the garage.

lights off. back to the wall. shoulders hunched. panting.

“ellie?” you whispered, stepping closer.

“don’t.” her voice was low. rough. a growl that barely sounded human.

you froze.

the smell hit you then—sharp and earthy, musky and hot. your pulse spiked. her ears twitched.

“ellie, are you—”

“in rut,” she bit out. jaw clenched. veins showing. “day three.”

oh god.

her eyes flashed in the dark, pupils huge. she was shaking. like she was holding herself back with sheer will alone. claws dug into her own thighs. her breath came in ragged bursts.

“i can smell you,” she said.

you flushed.

“i said don’t come closer,” ellie rasped, but there was a whimper in her throat, a tremble that sounded like a plea. “i’m not gonna touch you. if you get close, i won’t be able to stop.”

you stepped forward anyway.

and her whole body tensed like she’d just heard a gunshot.

ellie williams (wolf) - smut ver.

it happened fast.

you kissed her.

just once.

one soft, shaky kiss on her neck. a breath. a brush.

and then she snapped.

you were slammed against the wall before you could gasp, legs wrapped around her waist, her mouth crashing into yours like she’d been starving for you. fangs grazed your lips. her claws ripped through your shirt like it offended her.

“i told you not to come close,” ellie growled, voice thick with something feral. “now you’re mine.”

her rut scent drowned you. her heat bled through your skin. you could feel the bulge of her strap—huge, soaked, pressing between your folds without mercy.

she didn’t ease in. she took.

one brutal thrust.

you screamed her name.

ellie pinned your hands above your head and fucked into you with the kind of desperation only a beast could have—grinding so deep you felt her in your ribs, snarling into your neck, moaning filth against your skin.

“you wanted this,” she gasped. “you wanted me like this.”

you nodded through tears.

“say it,” she growled. “say i’m the only one who gets to fuck you through your pretty little cries.”

“y-you are—ellie, i—!”

she came with a broken snarl, clutching you so tight you thought your bones might crack. then kept going. and going.

“you’re not leaving this fucking den,” she whispered, teeth at your throat.

“not until i’ve filled you so full you forget your name.”

abby anderson (grizzly bear) - sfw ver.

she doesn’t talk much when her rut’s close.

just grunts.

growls.

grips your hips a little tighter when you pass. breathes heavier when you curl up near her on the couch. you didn’t notice at first—not until she pulled you into her lap without warning.

“abby?” you asked, voice small.

“sit still,” she muttered, voice thick, nose buried in your neck.

you could feel the tension vibrating off her. her claws were out, hooked gently into your thigh. not hurting. just… holding.

“smell so good,” she growled. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

your pulse spiked.

she grunted again. “don’t move.”

so you didn’t.

you sat there. trapped in the arms of a beast who was trying so hard to behave.

abby anderson (grizzly bear) - smut ver.

abby didn’t let you go home.

you’d tried. keys in hand. half a goodbye.

and then she snapped.

she shoved you against the cabin wall, teeth bared, pupils blown, her claws tearing at your clothes.

“you knew i was in rut,” she growled. “you knew and you wore that sweet little thing anyway.”

you gasped as she lifted you—effortlessly—and tossed you onto the bed like prey caught in her paws. she was already pulling your legs apart, heavy strap slick and throbbing where it pressed against your soaked entrance.

“you’re mine tonight,” abby whispered. “my omega.”

she slammed in. one brutal thrust.

you screamed.

abby moaned—deep, animalistic—and started rutting into you with the power of something feral. every movement was primal. each thrust made your back arch, made your voice break.

“you feel that?” she hissed. “that’s what it’s like when a beast claims.”

she bit your throat. gentle. possessive. her hands were everywhere—gripping, squeezing, owning.

“i’ll fill you so good,” she panted. “you’ll smell like me for days.”

“abby, i—!”

“say it.” her voice was hoarse. unhinged. “say you want your abby to ruin you.”

“i—i want it,” you cried. “please—abby—”

she roared.

and the world blurred.

mizu (panther-wolf) - sfw ver.

mizu didn’t speak when she saw you in her quarters.

you’d only come to return a blade—something minor she’d let you borrow. you didn’t expect her to be there. shirt half-undone. hair wet from rain. tail twitching once, then still.

she didn’t move.

she just stared.

“mizu?” you said softly.

her ear flicked.

you stepped forward—and she vanished from your sight.

when she reappeared, she was behind you. no sound. no breath. just her presence at your back and the weight of her hand at your hip.

“you smell different,” she said quietly.

you froze.

her nose brushed your nape. her voice—low, sharp, aching—was barely audible:

“don’t come near me again.”

but her claws curled in your clothes like she wasn’t going to let you leave.

mizu (panther-wolf) - smut ver.

you didn’t know what you’d done.

only that she locked the door. blew out the candles. and stood in the dark.

“mizu?” you whispered, heart pounding.

“i’ve gone into heat,” she said.

you took a step back.

she stepped forward.

you backed against the bed frame—and suddenly she was there, towering over you, her eyes glowing faintly violet in the shadows. she pressed you flat to the mattress with her body, her voice like a curse across your skin.

“i’ve waited years to suppress this. but you…”

her hand slid between your thighs. you were already soaked.

“you make me forget everything i’ve sworn.”

her strap was massive. cold at first. then slick with her own arousal. she didn’t warn you—just pushed in slow. torturously slow. you whimpered.

mizu didn’t moan.

she watched.

studied the way you cried, clawed at the sheets, begged for more. every thrust was precise. ritualistic. like she was offering something sacred.

“don’t look away,” she said.

you met her eyes. you couldn’t look anywhere else.

when she came, she bit down on your throat—not to hurt you. to mark you.

“you’re mine now,” she whispered, breath shaking for the first time.

“let the world burn. i’ll only chase you.”

claire redfield (jaguar) - sfw ver.

the worst part was… you never even heard her footsteps.

you were just trying to tidy up the supply room—alone—when something behind you clicked. a breath. a soft scrape. and then—

“didn’t i tell you not to be alone after sundown?”

you jumped.

claire was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, eyes glowing faint yellow. her ears were tilted back. her tail was low, slow, twitching with irritation. with restraint.

“s-sorry, i didn’t think—”

“no. you didn’t.” her voice was low. controlled. but her pupils were wide. her nose flared. “you smell like heat.”

you froze.

claire bared her teeth, just barely.

“i’m not going to touch you,” she said, like a lie. “but if you don’t get out of my sight in the next ten seconds…”

she didn’t finish the sentence.

she didn’t have to.

claire redfield (jaguar) - smut ver.

you ran.

you didn’t mean to.

but your body moved before your brain did—and by the time you hit the hallway, you knew it was a mistake.

you heard nothing.

until claws raked down the wall beside you and claire tackled you against the nearest door.

you gasped. her hand covered your mouth.

“shouldn’t have run,” she growled, voice shaking. “jaguar instincts don’t handle chase well.”

her nose brushed your cheek. then your neck. she groaned like it hurt.

“you reek of heat. you’re begging to be bred.”

you whimpered into her palm.

“good girl,” she hissed, flipping you over and forcing you down on all fours across her bed. her strap was already on—thick, curved, soaked in her own slick. she lined up behind you and slammed in with no warning.

you screamed.

claire moaned.

“louder,” she snarled. “let them all know who claimed you.”

she fucked into you hard, claws digging into your hips, voice low and broken behind your ear.

“been tracking you for weeks. watching. smelling. every time you smiled at someone else, i wanted to rip their throat out.”

you couldn’t speak.

didn’t matter.

she pinned you down, buried deep, grinding like she was trying to carve her shape into your body forever.

“jaguar mates for life,” claire whispered. “so you’d better get used to this.”

jill valentine (werewolf) - sfw ver.

“back up.”

that’s all she said.

but her voice? shaky. deep. one octave too low. her jaw tight like she was barely holding something in. her claws twitched at her sides.

you didn’t move.

you stood there—close enough to feel the heat radiating off her—heart pounding, looking into her eyes.

they weren’t blue anymore.

they were glowing. glowing.

“jill—”

“i said back up,” she growled again. her hand slammed against the wall beside your head. not touching. not yet.

“but why—”

her nostrils flared. her body shivered.

“you smell like fuckin’ heat,” she spat through clenched teeth. “and i haven’t shifted in months.”

a pause.

“and if you take one more step, sweetheart, i’m not gonna stop.”

jill valentine (werewolf) - smut ver.

she warned you.

but you didn’t listen.

now you were bent over the metal table in the weapons locker, legs trembling, panties ripped off, jill rutting into you from behind like she hadn’t seen you in years.

her grip was bruising. her thrusts? ruthless. deep enough you were gasping between moans, forehead pressed to cold steel.

“wanted to act like a brat,” jill growled, voice wrecked. “now take your fuckin’ consequence.”

she bit your neck—hard—while pounding into you with that massive military-grade strap she definitely had no regulation clearance for.

your eyes rolled back.

your knees gave out.

she held you there, panting against your shoulder, body flushed, soaked with sweat and slick.

“i can smell how much you liked that,” she muttered. “you need your alpha to fuck the attitude out of you, huh?”

you whimpered, drooling onto the table.

“use your words, cadet.”

“y-yes, alpha—”

her claws raked down your back.

“good girl,” jill whispered, fangs glinting. “now beg for me to breed you.”

you cried.

and obeyed.

ada wong (cobra) - sfw ver.

you found her draped across the velvet chaise, moonlight catching the shine of her scales, one clawed finger twirling a wine glass she didn’t touch.

“close the door,” ada said softly, without looking at you.

you did.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you whispered. “they said it’s too dangerous.”

she finally looked at you.

golden slit eyes. unblinking. sharp.

“for them, maybe.”

your breath hitched as she stood, slow and deliberate. her movement wasn’t beastly. it was too smooth. too controlled. like she didn’t walk—she glided.

“you smell like heat,” she murmured, stepping close.

you swallowed.

her tail curled once around your ankle.

she leaned in.

“i could bite you,” ada whispered. “right now. end it all.”

a pause.

“but where would the fun be in that?”

ada wong (cobra) - smut ver.

you shouldn’t have let her touch you.

her hand trailed down your bare chest with clinical precision, claws sharp but barely grazing. you lay there, trembling beneath her coiled tail, wrists pinned above your head by silken rope.

“you’re flushed,” she murmured. “pupils dilated. heart racing.”

she straddled your waist.

“this is how prey looks right before the venom sets in.”

you whimpered.

her strap pressed against your dripping heat—long, sleek, inhumanly smooth—already soaked in your arousal.

“do you want it?” ada asked, voice velvet. “do you want your predator to eat you alive?”

you nodded. she made you say it.

only then did she slide in.

not fast. not rough.

deep.

and when you sobbed—completely full, overstimulated, clenching around her—ada smiled.

“there it is,” she whispered against your throat. “the sound i’ve been waiting for.”

she fucked you slowly. torturously. venomously. her tail coiled tighter with each thrust. every time you begged for more, she gave less—until your voice cracked.

and only then did she strike.

she bit your shoulder.

you came so hard you blacked out.

chloe price (coyote) - sfw ver.

“you know,” chloe said, leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom, her tail flicking lazily behind her, “it’s kinda rude to walk past a heat-horny coyote and not say hi.”

you looked up from your book.

she was shirtless. sweaty. bandaged. one of her ears was still twitching from a fight she’d gotten into two nights ago—because someone flirted with you.

“you look like shit,” you mumbled.

she grinned.

“cool. you still smell like my favorite fuckin’ thing on earth.”

you flushed.

chloe crossed the room in three strides and flopped on top of you, tongue poking out, nose buried in your neck. she groaned.

“ughhh. you smell like warmth. like safety. like the only goddamn reason i haven’t gone totally feral.”

you laughed.

she didn’t.

not really.

chloe price (coyote) - smut ver.

she was already inside you by the time you realized she’d snapped.

you were mid-argument. something about jealousy. about space.

but chloe wasn’t listening anymore.

she’d pushed you back against the couch, clawed fingers ripping your panties clean off, strap thick and already lubed, her eyes wild and gone.

“you think i don’t see the way they look at you?” she growled, thrusting in so deep you screamed. “you think i’m gonna let some other bitch scent what’s mine?”

her hips slammed into yours again, again, again—messy, brutal, borderline desperate.

she leaned in. bit your lip. her breath was fire and sweat and need.

“you’re mine,” she snarled. “say it.”

you moaned.

“say it.”

“i’m—yours, chloe—i’m—!”

she groaned. then howled as she came, hips stuttering, strap still buried so deep you were seeing stars.

but she didn’t stop.

not even when you begged.

not even when your voice broke.

she just kept fucking you like the wild little coyote bitch she was—tail twitching, mouth open, moaning like a feral thing in heat.

“cry all you want, baby,” she whispered. “i live for that sound.”

[ruusawa]

✶⋆.˚ MDNI, 18+ ONLY

✶⋆.˚ dick grayson x female reader

✶⋆.˚ sending nudes, male masturbation, dirty talk (??), both reader and dick are down bad, beta read by kali ml @silkentrigger ♡

✶⋆.˚ 1.3k words

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You and Dick were friends. Good friends, best friends. From bumbling around with your newfound freedom when he made the Titans, to the still as chaotic but much more manageable life of adulthood, you and Dick have stayed friends. Even being miles away from each other, you both find time to keep in touch. Even if it’s only you sending a quick photo of what you’ve bought at the local patisserie or Dick sending a snap of the Blüdhaven skyline during a full moon.

You pretend not to notice the fluttering in your chest everytime you see Dick’s name light up on your phone screen. You’ve been friends too long for that.

You’re ignoring that feeling right now, in fact, as Dick’s text has you smiling already, you haven’t even read it yet.

‘Look at Haley!!!!’

You open your phone excitedly, expecting another photo of Haley to grace your screen.

What greets you is not an adorable photo of the lovable pooch, but something that makes your brain screech to a halt. All thoughts promptly leave your brain, and your mouth feels dry.

The image currently gracing your phone screen is probably the most artistic nude you’ve ever seen.

Dick sent you a dick pic.

Holy shit.

Dick is laid out across his white sheets, winking into the camera. His other hand, the one not holding his phone is- holy shit. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head like an old cartoon character. Dick’s fingers are wrapped around the base of his cock, the tip is flushed pink, precum smeared over the slit, his abdomen and the coarse hairs leading from his navel to the base. You squint slightly as you try to work out if he’d even fit inside you, he has to be an inch above average at least.

Dick’s illuminated by what you’re assuming is the sunset, the golden light making him look ethereal.

Your hands are shaky as you stare at the masterpiece that is your naked best friend.

What do you even do now? This was obviously not meant for your eyes. But you’ve seen it. You’ve seen your best friends’ nudes. The best friend you’re absolutely not secretly in love with, no, sir.

Do you send one back? Do you pretend you never saw it? What’s the etiquette here? You certainly don’t know.

It could be funny, right? To send Dick a photo back. Then you could both laugh at this and move on. Pretend it never happened. Yeah, that’s a really smart idea.

Dick is pulling on his Nightwing suit as his phone buzzes. He figures it’s you, replying to the adorable photo of Haley presenting her tummy to him for tummy rubs.

It is not.

Dick feels like someone’s sucker punched him, the air leaves his lungs so quickly.

There you are, knelt in front of your mirror on the carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread just enough that Dick can see the lacy blue- Nightwing blue- panties hiding your pussy from view. Your phone is covering your face, but there’s absolutely nothing covering your tits. Dick’s eyes zero in on them, just staring. Suddenly he’s imagining how your tits would feel in his hands, how you’d react if he squeezed them.

Why did you send him this? Was it meant for someone else? Who is Dick kidding, of course it was. There’s no other reason for you to have sent him a photo like this. He’d sent you a photo of Haley for- oh.

That is not a photo of Haley. Not at all.

You were replying to him. To the nude he’d sent instead of the photo of Haley.

Dick’s all too aware of the interest his cock is taking in this photo, so he promptly turns off his phone, throws it onto the couch and tells himself he’ll deal with it after patrol.

You’re half asleep when your phone buzzes on your pillow. You paw around for it lazily, fingers grasping the cool metal and pulling it to your face. The brightness makes you squint, blinking rapidly as you’re met with a shirtless selfie of Dick in bed.

“Just finished patrol.”

Your eyes trail down to the V of his hips, sheets bunched just below the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. His hair is damp, probably from the post patrol shower Dick claims he has to have. Your cheeks flush as you imagine running your fingers through the soft, damp strands, placing kisses down his toned abdomen, licking down that V line and to his cock.

Holy fucking shit.

You expected Dick to laugh, make a joke. You sent that photo to make it even, to make Dick feel better about sending you a photo of his, well… dick. Not that you’re going to complain about this turn of events. Not at all.

You ruck your sheets down your body, flick the bedside lamp on and lift your phone, trying to get a good angle. You hum once you’re satisfied with the end result, immediately sending it to Dick with no explanation.

This isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair. Dick swears his mouth is watering as you send a photo back. You’re laid on you messy bed (Dick’s always said you had too many pillows), sleep shirt pulled up so Dick gets a tiny peek of your tits. The best part? The blue panties- the Nightwing blue panties, his brain unhelpfully adds- on full display.

The miles between the two of you have never been more apparent. Dick is pretty sure there’s nothing he wouldn’t give up (maybe except Haley, but even then he’s so down bad he’s not even sure of that) to be able to fuck you right now. The need he’s feeling to press you into the mattress, fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name is overwhelming. It’s embarrassing how hard he is, and he hasn’t even laid eyes on your cunt yet.

Dick’s breathing is laboured as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself slowly to take the edge off. Is this wrong? Getting off to your best friend that Dick absolutely doesn’t have feelings for. With fumbling fingers, Dick reaches for his phone.

You’ve died. You’ve died and gone to heaven because there’s no way in hell this is real.

On your phone screen is a video of Dick Grayson, desperately jerking off, the camera shaking slightly due to the movements of his wrist. He’s staring up at the camera with big, pleading eyes, soft moans escaping his lips, flush on his cheekbones. He’s a vision. A dream.

A whine escapes Dick’s lips as you watch the video, completely mesmerized. He smears the precum leaking out of his slit over his cock.

“Please let me fuck you, dove,” Dick’s voice escapes your speakers. It’s too hot in your bed, your skin feels like it’s on fire. “Please, dove. You’d let me fuck you, right?”

Dick moans, eyes screwing shut as his hips buck into his hand.

“You’d let me fuck your pretty pussy, right? You’d let me ruin you?”

You’ve never pressed the call button so quick in your life.

“Hello?” Dick answers immediately, he’s breathless, the sound of his laboured breathing goes straight to your cunt.

“Yes.”

“What?” Dick sounds so confused, moaning softly. You can hear some rustling, he must still be touching yourself.

“Yes, I’ll let you fuck me.”

Dick keens into the phone, choking on a moan. “Oh, holy fuck.”

Your face feels too warm, your panties sticking to you, you’re so wet. You don’t think you’ve felt this aroused in your life. “Did you just…”

“Yeah,” Dick breathes.

Your phone buzzes, a photo.

There’s a pretty flush on Dick’s cheekbones, his lips parted due to breathlessness. His abdomen is streaked in pearly white cum, his cock softening against his abdomen. Dick’s never looked so pretty, he’s just so wrecked.

You’re still not sure what this means for your friendship, the lines are blurred. But that can wait, because you’re horny as fuck and your clit is aching for attention.

You prop your phone up on your pillows, making sure the angle is good, before grabbing your vibrator. It’s Dick’s turn for a show.

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aaaaa, holy shit this has been a long time coming (literally)

thank you so much kali for putting up with me rambling about this and helping beta read it and feed the downright sinful thoughts in my head. like, this is what she woke up to lol

don't worry, i'm already working on a part two

also my asks are open pls yap at me