dovenskin

[dovenskin]

bare w me guys.. your rqs are coming…

[dovenskin]

GUYS LOOK THIS IS LITERALLY HAMSTER BILL

[dovenskin]

he’s so..

i like how i drew his nose here better… my jerry sweet jerry angel princess magic lovely baby awesome smile darling sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️

[dovenskin]

Chipmunks and hamsters are both rodents so it’s like, the same thing if a hamster needed a second.

Phenomenal art, fat greedy hamster Bills gaze is captured so well.

How did he turn into a hamster? will the world ever deserve to know?

ohhhh , byeee i forgot alvin and the chipmunks existed 😣 and thank you!! i tried soo hard, i usually don’t draw animals too much

bill turned into a hamster because of..

well actually idk lmaoo

i wanna say that i just snapped my fingers and he just became one but no that’s not cool enough

bill was making fun of hamsters and saying he was better than them (somehow?) and the hamster fairy flew into his room at night and cursed him to be a hamster.

how do you break the spell?

bill has to realize he was wrong about hamsters and appreciate them or he’ll be cursed to live his days as a hamster —which is not long but yk

so.. that’s how

[dovenskin]

Hamster squeakuel stat

i have no idea what this means, but i drew bill 🍔

based off this drabble (?)

[dovenskin]

"you're the whole transport fleet" im losing my mind you're so funny please don't stop being yourself

okay just for you 🫡

(thank you btw!!)

[dovenskin]

how come ur other fics barely get noticed while the eltingville ones get popular so quickly 😢😢

i don’t know 💔💔

but if i had to take a guess, i’d say it’s bc TEC is realll popular rn and people are hyper fixated on the minimal amount of stuff it has (2 comics and a pilot)

after july 19th this’ll pass i guess

[dovenskin]

Your writing is spectacular, genuinely, I love it so much. You always write the characters so accurately it’s almost painful. I keep re-reading the same posts over and over again almost obsessively, like I’m trying to study your words, memorize the phrases and spaces, trying to improve my own writing. I want to eat your writing, consume it in hopes that it will become a part of me, that maybe in hopes that maybe my own writing will improve.

That is to say, can you perhaps give some writing tips before I lose my mind and send myself to an insane asylum? No pressure, if not.

omgee??? you’re making me blushh, thank you so, so much !! the idea of someone rereading my stuff, studying it, wanting to eat it is making me giggle n kick my feet <33

and absolutely!! I can totally give you some writing tips. I’m still learning all the time, but here are a few that really helped me: (this is for smut btw, below is general)

Let the characters be awful. Eltingville is all about ugliness — insecurity, ego, obsession. If it’s messy and uncomfortable and grossly specific, you’re probably nailing it. Don’t over-sanitize. The more cringe, the better.

Layer the humor into the smut. Staying in-character doesn’t mean you can’t get filthy or funny—it just means their flavor of filth needs to match. Bill calling someone a slut while pathetically rutting into a thigh? In character. Pete talking shit mid-thrust? Also in character.

Make it about ego and insecurity. These guys are all virgins canonically (except jerry via epilogue i assume, mmm maybe pete too (epilogue)). Even when they’re in smut, they’re trying too hard, overcompensating, or pathetically needy. That push-pull of bravado and meltdown makes them feel real.

I use the Eltingville wiki constantly. The more specific and grossly accurate I can be about their behavior, quotes, or obsessions (like Josh and Star Trek continuity or Bill and his gatekeeping), the better the fic feels. Even in porn.

—

general

let them be bad. these boys are meant to be cringe. don’t be afraid to lean into their toxic traits, ego, weird fixations, or embarrassing meltdowns. if your reader’s secondhand embarrassed?

focus on obsession and insecurity. everything they do—whether it’s yelling about fan canon or fighting over soda—is rooted in insecurity. they desperately want to be seen as smart, valid, superior… but they’re losers. that emotional contradiction is gold.

humor comes from specificity. don’t just say “he nerded out.” say “he launched into a 12-minute rant about why captain pike’s wheelchair design was a canonical betrayal.” the more specific and unnecessarily detailed, the funnier and more in-character it feels.

their relationships should be volatile. even if you’re writing fluff or friendship, remember: these guys insult and undercut each other constantly. that doesn’t mean there’s no love, but it’s always filtered through sarcasm, competition, or bitterness. lean into the dysfunction.

again, the eltingville wiki is your best friend!! seriously, use it. knowing each guy’s fandom interests (e.g. josh = star trek, pete = horror elitist, bill = gatekeeping goblin, jerry = anime/rpg guy) will help you write them accurately. name-drop references. make fun of their hyperfixations. that’s the fun part.

anywayy, thank you for the love, i hope this helps and i promise you’re already writing better just from being so engaged — keep studying and keep writing!!

xo ,

faye

[dovenskin]

Omg 😭 hamster bill is so cute i’m gonna puke i love him so much i need to squeeze him until he pops

ikr!! hes so cute , he must be destroyed …

[dovenskin]

june 1st july 19th

eltingville club /epilogue, naruto , northwest comix collective, dr stone

july 20th to august 30th

the batman (2022) , john doe , black clover , tokyo ghoul

requests are closed. . .

[dovenskin]

⋆

bill dickey ノ

cw : just fluff , hamster bill, greedy/greasy little hamster bill

✦ Title: Hamster Bill

an : idk i got the idea from looking at bill eat a hamburger in the comics, he just … looked like a hamster… (this might become a series)

© dovenskin visual

Bill had been a hamster for approximately twenty-four hours, and you were already losing your mind.

He hadn’t taken to it gracefully.

No, Bill Dickey, former self-appointed president of the Eltingville Club and walking incel manifesto, had become the angriest, chubbiest puffball you’d ever seen. Still somehow managed to look smug while chewing on cardboard. Still somehow full of hatred.

He squeaked in your direction from the corner of his plastic cage, standing on his back legs like he was about to challenge you to a Yu-Gi-Oh duel.

You cooed softly, unable to help yourself. “Aww. Look at you. You’re so mad.”

You reached down to pet his fuzzy little head. Big mistake.

His tiny teeth sunk immediately into your fingertip.

“OW—motherfucker!” you yelped, stumbling back, clutching your bleeding hand to your chest. “He bit me! He actually bit me!”

Bill just sat there, beady eyes narrowed, little hamster chest heaving with rage. There were shredded tissues all over the floor of his enclosure. One of the wheels had already been broken.

You opened the cage with one hand and grabbed him with the other, ignoring his furious chirps and flailing limbs. He was round and squishy and still trying to bite you.

You squeezed him gently—just enough to assert dominance—and hissed:

“Listen, motherfucker. I could pop you open RIGHT NOW. DO NOT bite me again.”

He froze in your grip, legs dangling. You could practically hear his pride cracking under the weight of your fingers.

Later, you placed him on the couch with a stolen fast-food cheeseburger nearly the size of his entire body. He immediately launched himself face-first into it, rage-chewing like a little demon. Crumbs smeared across his fat cheeks. His tiny paws kneaded the bread like he could actually grab it. His belly had already rounded out and he hadn’t even made it halfway through.

Jerry walked in, saw the scene—Bill, plump and pissed, buried in lettuce—and blinked.

“Uh. What’s … happening?”

You didn’t even look away from the carnage.

“His greed sickens me.”

Bill squeaked angrily, mouth full of meat.

You tossed a napkin on his head like it was a crown and sighed.

“You’re lucky I like pathetic little rodents.”

He squeaked again.

You didn’t check if it was a thank-you.

—-

Bill had gorged himself into a food coma.

He was sprawled across a chewed-up napkin on your bed like a little round corpse, stomach heaving gently, crumb trails up his snout. His fur was slightly greasy from burger oils, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. He looked like a cursed Furby mid-reboot.

You watched him from your pillow, head propped up on your elbow.

“…You’re disgusting,” you murmured fondly.

He didn’t respond. Just let out a soft, snorting breath through his stupid twitchy nose. His cheeks puffed in and out. His belly rose like a mini beanbag on the brink of bursting.

You reached out with one finger and gently poked his side.

Bill jolted.

He gave a short, sharp hiss—yes, a hiss—before snapping upright like a sleep-deprived cryptid. Beady eyes glassy with rage. His little fists clenched like he wanted to duel you in Magic: The Gathering right now.

You recoiled, laughing.

“I didn’t know hamsters could hiss!”

He puffed up like a microwaved marshmallow, baring his weird little rice-sized teeth and vibrating with hatred.

“Oh my god, do it again.”

You poked him.

Another hiss. A squeaky, wheezing one this time—like a teapot full of resentment.

“Bill,” you snorted, “are you broken? Is that your only line of defense now?”

He lunged for your finger, missed, and fell sideways onto his back, kicking his legs like a flipped Roomba. You nearly cried laughing.

Still giggling, you poked his soft belly.

HISSSS!!

“Stop! I can’t breathe—oh my god, you sound like an angry balloon animal!”

He flopped dramatically onto his side, face buried in the napkin, making an annoyed clicking sound like some combination of “fuck you” and “I’m too full to deal with this.”

You finally gave him a break, scooping his little blob of a body into your hoodie pocket.

“There,” you said, patting his lumpy form. “Sleep it off, Rodent Dickey. I swear to god if you bite my chest in your sleep, I’m duct taping you to a Roomba tomorrow.”

From inside the pocket, he let out a groggy, muffled squeak.

You just smirked.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

—

You eventually took pity on the gremlin.

After stuffing himself with half a burger, throwing a tantrum over the napkin being "too scratchy," and hissing at you like a demonic guinea pig, Bill finally passed out again—this time face-first in your hoodie pocket, little back legs dangling out like a half-flushed turd.

You sighed.

"God, you're exhausting."

Carefully, you reached in and scooped him out—he twitched slightly, but didn’t wake. Just let out a sleepy little huhhnk and curled tighter into himself like a damp dinner roll.

You set to work.

An old shoebox. Two socks folded into a lumpy mattress. A square of tissue you half-heartedly fluffed up like a throw pillow. You even tucked a corner of a comic book page in there, like he needed some cursed talisman to sleep near.

Once it was done, you placed him inside gently.

He snored immediately. Loud little snorts from a too-small nose. Belly rising and falling like a bloated little balloon. His fat cheeks were still stained with ketchup.

You stared at him for a moment, elbow on the desk, chin in your hand.

“…Sigh. You’re so ugly, Bill.”

It came out more fond than it should have.

He made a soft chirp in his sleep and rolled over, kicking one stubby foot like he was trying to slap you in a dream.

You shook your head, watching his stupid fur fluff with every snore.

"Ugly little bastard," you murmured again, tucking the sock corner over his hip like a makeshift blanket. “You’re VERY lucky I have a thing for weird, mean rodents.”

From the box, Bill snored louder—like he knew you were right, and hated it.

[dovenskin]

⋆

jiraiya ノ

✦ Title: Heatwaves

cw : nsfw/ explicit , dom/sub , degrading/pet names , size kink , sweat/scent kink , creampie (implied)/external ejaculation , rough sex / light manhandling , light humiliation , exhibitionism theme, fem reader

© dovenskin

The heat had swallowed Konoha whole.

The air was syrup-thick with humidity, sweat slicking every inch of exposed skin. You’d escaped with Jiraiya to the coast — a lazy plan to “cool off” that turned into a private getaway after he suggested a less crowded stretch of sand, far from the usual foot traffic.

You should’ve known better.

Now you were half-buried in the golden sand, the sun baking your skin, the ocean glimmering a few feet away — and Jiraiya kneeling behind you, eyes shamelessly glued to your barely-there bikini.

“You know,” he drawled, voice deep and rough with amusement, “you might be the cruelest woman I’ve ever met.”

You turned your head, smirking. “Because I’m not letting you write this into your next book?”

“No,” he said, hands bracing on either side of your hips. “Because you look like that—” his palm ghosted up the back of your thigh, thumb brushing under the curve of your ass “—and expect me to behave.”

The contact made your breath catch. Sweat already clung to your skin, but his touch left a hotter trail in its wake. You shifted your hips just slightly, teasing him, watching his pupils dilate.

“And what happens,” you murmured, “if I don’t expect you to behave?”

Jiraiya’s grin was feral.

He leaned forward, pressing his chest to your back, breath hot against your ear as his fingers slipped under the thin string of your bikini bottoms.

“Oh, then I’d say you’re a very smart girl.”

The next second, the fabric was shoved aside, and his fingers were between your legs — hot, thick, and already slick from the sweat and arousal he’d been coaxing all damn day. The sounds of the ocean weren’t loud enough to mask the wet slide of his fingers as he parted you and dragged them slowly up your folds.

“You’ve been wet for hours,” he groaned, licking the sweat off your shoulder. “You wanted this since before we left the village.”

You shivered, head tilting back against his shoulder. “You’re the one who packed all the sunscreen and none of the self-control.”

His answer was another thick finger pushed inside you, curling, making you gasp. He worked you open slowly, purposefully, while his other hand shoved your top up over your breasts and palmed them greedily. Your nipples were already hard from the breeze and sun, but his rough hand on them made you keen.

“Can’t believe you let me bring you here,” he murmured, mouth on your jaw now. “All that sass, and now you’re dripping for me like you want to be fucked in the sand.”

You clenched around his fingers involuntarily. “Jiraiya—”

“You like the risk, huh?” he growled. “Someone walking down the trail. Seeing the famous pervert sage rutting into his pretty girl like an animal.”

He pulled his fingers free and shoved your hips forward roughly, until your face was buried in your towel and your ass was in the air, glistening with sweat and arousal. You heard the rustle of cloth — then the hot, heavy weight of his cock pressing between your cheeks.

He was big. Even after all the times he’d had you, the blunt head of his cock still made your breath stutter. He was already leaking, smearing warmth against your inner thighs. He gripped his base with one hand, sliding the tip slowly between your folds before nudging it against your entrance and holding it there, just teasing.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, almost to himself. “Every time. Fuck.”

He eased in, stretching you inch by inch, groaning like a man being saved and ruined all at once.

You gasped, hips jerking as he pushed deeper, the stretch just shy of overwhelming.

“That’s it,” he murmured, savoring every squeeze around him. “Take me. Let me feel all of it.”

When he bottomed out, you felt impossibly full, the weight of him buried so deep inside you it made your knees weak. Jiraiya held still for a beat, grinding his hips against yours slowly, relishing the way you clenched around him.

“You don’t even realize how good you feel,” he murmured, voice low and reverent. “Gripping me like that… fuck.”

Then he started to move — rough and fast from the start, his balls slapping wetly against your thighs. Your hands dug into the towel, sand kicking up around you, every thrust punching a breath out of you.

“You gonna come for me out here, huh?” he grunted. “All spread out, fucked dumb in the sun like a good little beach bunny?”

“Jiraiya—f-fuck—” Your whole body trembled as he slammed into you harder, faster, his pace brutal, sweat dripping from both of you. The sun made your skin hot, but it was nothing compared to the burn building in your belly.

He reached around and started rubbing your clit in fast, messy circles. “Come for me. Soak my cock.”

But you were already close. The stretch, the heat, the weight of him grinding your walls into something raw and needy — it sent you over fast. You came hard, biting down on the towel as your thighs shook and your pussy spasmed around him.

Jiraiya swore loud and filthy as you clenched around him, drawing out the moment. He didn’t pull out yet — he stayed buried to the hilt, grinding into you through your orgasm like he couldn’t bear to let it end.

“God, you’re perfect like this,” he groaned, voice ragged. “Just like that.”

And then, finally, he pulled out just enough to slam back in with one last deep thrust and came—hot and heavy across your ass, ropes of it streaking your slick skin as he panted like he’d been running laps.

For a long moment, all either of you could do was breathe — him crouched behind you, hand stroking the sweat-damp curve of your spine, you slumped against your towel, dazed and still twitching.

Finally, he leaned over, kissing the top of your back.

“Think I’ll call this chapter The Taming of the Shrew,” he whispered. “Chapter fourteen.”

You groaned. “If you publish that, i’ll burn you into the ground.”

Jiraiya chuckled, already reaching for the sunscreen again.

[dovenskin]

could you maybe writing something for pete like you did for jerry? like… cosplaying a character he likes for his birthday gift? sorry i just love this little horror geek so much

⋆

pete dinunzio ノ

cw : smut, dubcon , power play , horror roleplay , knife kink , blood , biting , rough sex , chasing,

an : i did make reader a female just for the final girl aspect, hope that’s okay!!

✦ Title: Hunted

© dovenskin

The moon hung low and heavy behind tangled branches, casting silver shards of light across the forest floor. The air smelled of damp earth and pine—sharp, clean, and thick with the tension of anticipation. You could feel it in your bones before you even saw him.

A silhouette stepped from the shadows, masked but unmistakable—Pete DiNunzio, your personal nightmare come to life. His dark eyes glinted with cruel amusement beneath the crooked hockey mask. Clutched in his hand was the gleam of a real knife, its blade catching the moonlight as if eager to carve into you.

Your breath hitched as you adjusted the tattered remnants of your costume—the battered “Final Girl,” an icon of every horror flick you’d obsessively rewatched for hours. The torn flannel tied around your waist, the ripped denim shorts, and the bloodied white tank top barely clinging to your skin. Weeks of planning this night, this roleplay. Tonight was his birthday.

You sprinted forward, your boots pounding against the forest floor, leaves snapping beneath your steps. Behind you, Pete’s footsteps matched yours—methodical, relentless. The thrill of being hunted coursed through your veins, fiery and intoxicating.

Branches scraped your skin as you darted left and right, adrenaline sharpening your senses. But even in this chase, there was trust—a silent understanding between you two. This wasn’t just a game. It was a dance on the razor’s edge.

Suddenly, a heavy hand closed around your wrist. You yelped, spinning to face him, your pulse pounding in your ears. Pete’s dark eyes locked onto yours, wild and hungry beneath the mask.

“Gotcha.”

He pressed you back against a sturdy pine, the rough bark scratching your arms through the thin fabric of your shirt. The knife’s cold edge traced slow, deliberate lines across your collarbone, sending shivers of electric anticipation down your spine.

His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’ve got nowhere left to run, baby. Time to pay for all that teasing.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing, and nodded once—your permission sealed with a quick, tense breath.

Without hesitation, Pete slid the blade under the strap of your tank top, cutting it free with an expert flick. The fabric slipped down your body, revealing skin flushed by the night air and your rapid heartbeat.

Snick. The fabric split, your bra falling loose and catching at your elbows. The cool air kissed your nipples.

His eyes darkened with desire as the knife found the waistband of your shorts, the cold steel sliding beneath the fabric. He traced a slow, sharp line, slicing clean through the material, and you gasped as the shorts fell away, leaving you exposed beneath the moonlight.

“Perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with lust and hunger

Then, with a sudden motion, the blade grazed your upper thigh—a shallow cut that stung sharply, a drop of ruby-red blood blossoming on your skin.

Pete’s breath hitched, his voice low and rough as he groaned, “Fuck, look at you… bleeding for me.”

He bent down, lips brushing the warm skin as he licked the blood away, marking you as his prey. His teeth sank briefly into your neck, and you trembled under the fierce, possessive kiss.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispered fiercely.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as his fingers trailed fire across your skin. You pressed your body into his, lost in the wild rhythm of predator and prey.

The knife clattered to the ground unnoticed as Pete’s mouth found yours—hungry, demanding, and utterly consuming. His tongue tangled with yours, rough and teasing, while his hands explored every curve, every inch of you.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark pools of lust as he positioned himself between your thighs. His cock was hard, throbbing against your damp skin.

“Ready to finish what we started?” he growled.

You nodded, breathless and desperate.

Pete fell to his knees like a starving man and licked a stripe up your thigh, teeth grazing skin. His mouth met your center with a groan, and your hand flew to his hair, gripping tight. He ate you out sloppy—groaning into you like it was his last meal, fingers digging into your ass to pull you closer.

“Fuck—Pete—”

“Shut up and take it,” he muttered between licks. “God, you taste so good.”

Your knees buckled. He kept going until you were gasping, thighs shaking, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth.

When he finally stood, mouth wet and chin shiny, his cock was already out, thick and hard and twitching against his stomach.

He grunted, lifted your leg around his waist, and slammed into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. The bark scraped your back. Your nails dug into his shoulders. Pete was relentless—thrusting fast, deep, like he had something to prove.

“You were made for this,” he growled, fucking into you like he wanted to rearrange your guts. “Made to be ruined.”

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into taut muscle as he drove into you with relentless power. Every movement was sharp and unforgiving, the world narrowing to the heat of his body against yours.

Your breath hitched as waves of pleasure and pain crashed over you—every thrust sending shivers through your core.

The rough bark bit your back. The sweat on his chest slicked your breasts. And when you finally came, it was with your head tossed back and his hand clamped over your mouth so no one heard you scream.

He came with a broken grunt seconds after, shuddering hard, forehead buried in your neck. His hips stuttered, spilling into you with a rawness that sent another wave of heat crashing through your core.

For a long moment, the two of you stood tangled against the tree, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and your ragged breathing.

Then Pete leaned back just enough to kiss your neck, murmuring, “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

[dovenskin]

concept: reader is obsessed with josh's ass and he just doesn't get it. i like them BIG and CHUNKY 🍽️👅💦

⋆

josh levyノ

cw : masturbation (m. receiving), spanking, teasing, dirty talk, handjob, mild spanking, ass worship, dom-ish reader , semi-private

✦ Title: Prime Ass-ets

an: both sfw snd nsfw

© dovenskin

Josh didn’t understand why you kept looking at him like that.

He was elbow-deep in a box of mint-condition Starlog issues, sweat beading down his neck, ponytail loose and frizzing in the heat of the Eltingville basement—and you were staring. Again.

Not at his hands. Not at his face. Not at the shelf of boxes model kits behind him.

Nope. Your eyes were locked on his ass. Like you were about to eat it. Like you could eat it.

"Okay, seriously," Josh snapped, glancing over his shoulder. "Do I have a tag sticking out or something?"

You blinked, caught red-handed (and red-faced). "Nope."

"Then what the hell are you staring at?"

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you walked up behind him, slow and deliberate, and leaned in like you were about to share a secret. Your hand ghosted over the curve of his hip, then—boldly, shamelessly—you gave it a little squeeze.

Josh yelped. Actually yelped.

"The hell was that?!"

You grinned. "Can’t help it, babe. You’ve got the juiciest ass I’ve ever seen."

He turned red. "It’s just—fat. It’s not even—what are you even talking about?!"

"I like ‘em big," you said, voice low, teasing, chasing your words with a bite to your bottom lip. "I like ‘em chunky."

Josh’s jaw dropped. "Did you just quote—Madagascar?"

You leaned in closer, grabbing two greedy handfuls of his ass through his jeans. He squirmed, spluttered, tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go—not with you pressed up behind him and the cluttered basement wall right in front of him.

"I’m serious," you whispered into his ear. "You have no idea how hot it drives me. Every time you bend over—God, I can barely focus."

"You’re insane," he muttered, voice a little shaky. "Completely—"

You slid your hands under his shirt and dragged your nails gently across his lower back.

"Say it again," you purred. "Say I’m insane while I’m bending you over and smacking these thick cheeks—"

"WHAT?!"

Josh practically levitated.

You burst into laughter, leaning against his back while he sputtered, ears scarlet, glasses fogging. He looked like he was about to explode.

“Y-You’re serious?!”

“Dead serious. Bend over the table , why don’t you?”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, totally short-circuiting, and you were so close to dropping to your knees right there in the musty basement.

Josh Levy might not have understood your obsession with his big, squishy ass.

But by the end of the night? He’d know exactly why you were staring.

— Nsfw

Josh had no idea how things escalated this fast.

One minute he was bent over a crate of forgotten Trek VHS tapes, mumbling about misprints and special editions. The next? You were behind him, hands on his hips, kissing down the back of his neck while he stiffened like a goddamn broomstick.

"Wh-What’re you—?"

You didn’t answer. Just reached around, stroked his cock through his jeans, and let out a hum so filthy it made his knees wobble.

"Josh," you whispered, dragging your teeth along the curve of his ear. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you like this?"

He tried to scoff. "You’re insane—this is insane—"

Smack.

He jumped.

You’d just slapped his ass. Not hard. Just enough to make it jiggle under your palm. Your hand lingered there a second longer, squeezing.

"You keep calling me insane," you murmured, stroking him again with your other hand, "but you’re the one walking around with a dump truck like this, totally oblivious."

"Dump—" Josh turned halfway around, scandalized. "My ass is not a dump truck."

"It is. It's a whole transport fleet, babe."

Smack.

Josh let out a low grunt, half frustration, half surprise. His face was flushed, his glasses slipping down his nose. You pressed a little harder against his back, palm dragging down the slope of his ass.

"I could do this all night," you said casually, like you weren’t already sliding your hand past his waistband. "Spank you. Stroke you. Just watch you squirm like this."

"You're—this is deranged—"

Smack.

"You’re hard."

"I’m—not—" He groaned mid-sentence as your hand slipped into his boxers and wrapped around his cock—hot, heavy, twitching with every jerk of your fist.

“Liar,” you whispered.

He braced himself on the cluttered table, shoulders tense. His hips jerked with every stroke. You kept your rhythm slow and steady, thumb teasing the tip, the way you knew drove him insane. Occasionally, you’d lean in and nip at the back of his neck, or drag your nails over the curve of his ass, just to hear him hiss.

"You like this, don’t you?" you teased. "Being bent over, stroked like this. Makes you feel good, doesn’t it?"

Josh grit his teeth. “I—it’s just sensitive, okay—”

Smack.

"Say it."

He shivered.

You tugged him a little harder. His legs wobbled.

"Say you like me touching your big, perfect ass while I jerk you off."

Josh groaned. Loud.

“…I like it. Shit. Okay? I like it. Just—don’t stop—”

You grinned.

"Good boy."

You pumped him faster now, watching his body jerk and twitch under your hand. He was so loud—those back-of-the-throat moans, the panting, the desperate whimper when your other hand slapped his ass again, just to feel it bounce.

"You're gonna come like this, aren't you?" you said sweetly. "Bent over, cheeks red, whining in my hand."

His head dropped to the table.

And then he did—trembling, breathless, voice cracking around a drawn-out moan that probably echoed through the whole damn basement.

You didn’t stop until he was wrung out and twitching, his cock still throbbing in your hand, his ass warm and red from all your greedy attention.

He collapsed forward, glasses askew, ponytail sticking to his neck with sweat.

You kissed his spine.

"I'm not done with you," you said, smug. "Not even close."

[dovenskin]

— “how can you be a devil when you’re such an angel?”

faye , black , she , her. 𐔌

⤷ welcome to my blog! my name is faye/naomi i’m seventeen, i’m still in school and i’ve got a job so i might not upload as often, i’m bisexual , i do take requests but if i feel drained or if a request tends to be too repetitive i will refuse.

letters . rules . angel . navigation . 𐔌

born to die † (do not) send me your letters

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 welcome to angel city༝༚༝༚ ©dovenskin all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, or modify my work

[dovenskin]

navigation ꕀ

for saints, sinners, and souls who read between the lines…

✦ core tags

#fanfic archive — all posted works

#dovensmut — all smut

#dovenfluff — all fluff

#fayewrites — original content only

✦ letters

#sin letters — nsfw, dark, and sensual writing

#mercy letters — soft, emotional, fluffy works

#angelmail — request fills

#angeldiary — life updates, rambles, or fayetheories

✦ fandoms

#eltingville sin — all eltingville-related fics

#naruto sin — naruto fanfic

#death note sin — self-explanatory

#noass letters

✦ for readers

how to move through the rot, ribbons, and romance.

#angelmail — request status & inbox

#fanfic archive — full list of works

#nav.angel — you are here

#askfaye — inbox Qs / answered asks

aesthetic add-ons

✦ #stains — intense themes, death, yandere

✦ #petals — romantic tension, obsessive love

[dovenskin]

angel ꕀ

she writes like she’s bleeding quietly into paper. not because it hurts — but because it’s the only thing she knows how to do.

faye. 17. she/her.

talented but tired. angel-coded but evil. i disappear often but return with letters. this is a side blog. main: @naoluv