peachysndcream

[peachysndcream]

newgen angels | take your shirt off!

i am addicted to their muscular bodies. peak character design and also what are churches for if not doing freaky muscle kink stuff with heaven’s buffest angels ?

Ugh, they’re just so pretty.

Is pretty the right word? It’s not the wrong word, per se— nobody would deny that the twin angels with soft hair and long eyelashes are anything but gorgeous. But it’s not those features you’re so taken with— no, today you’re shamelessly ogling their bodies.

“This is the fucking worst,” Polyurethane exclaims with a frustrated cry, kicking the tattered heap of black fabric that was once his angel uniform. Polyester’s responding groan of frustration and muttered mimicry of Polyurethane’s voice has the younger angel whipping his head back, outraged. “Don’t mock me, Polyester! What, is your head-ass doing any better with no wifi and no spare clothing?!”

(Considering the situation, you probably shouldn’t be so distracted, but…)

Polyester is glaring at his brother from where he sits, arms crossed and legs spread, on a church pew. The early sunset through stained glass window panes casts a kaleidoscopic halo over him; even the sparse decor of the altar looks ethereal under the buttery yellow glow.

The ghost you’d been dragged into helping them dispatch was a vicious one; once it turned its scissor-like claws on the angels and torn their uniforms to ribbons, you could only politely avert your gaze as they riddled it with holes and then demanded you help ferry them back to their Daten City church residence. Getting onto Heaven’s Online Shop and ordering new threads ASAP became their new priority mission. 

And then the wifi went down.

A Daten City-wide blackout! A Heaven-and-Hell-wide blackout! No online shopping, no quick contact with Heaven, no nothing. They couldn’t even use Double Low-Riser’s GPS function!

“I’m about to crash out,” Polyurethane moaned, head in hands, clearly unaware of the crash-out he was currently in the midst of. 

“There might be old priest habits in the back,” you comment mildly, even though your interests lie more-so with keeping the brothers in as little clothing as possible. Polyurethane tilts his head back to glare at you, having collapsed in a heap on the floor and facing away from his equally bad-tempered brother.

“I don’t want to wear that outdated garbage,” he shoots back. “Look at me! You think I’d be caught dead in some raggedy boomer fit?! I’d rather walk around naked than put that on!”

“Walk around naked, then,” Polyester responds drily. “Your constant bitching is gonna give me another headache.” Polyester leans back against the pew even more, hissing in discomfort. It seems to have entirely slipped his mind that of the two, he was the first to raise absolute hell once his clothing got ruined. There was at least three different ‘I’m gonna kill myself’s and five variations of ’L! This is an absolute L!’ (you didn’t want to count, but he was screaming directly into your ear).

Sprawled inelegantly over the altar in the centre of the church’s chancel, your eyes flicker between the two moping angels. Your plans to get back to work have long since been abandoned; by this hour of the day, you should be making plans to return home. You’re far too acquainted with the angel twins, though, to feel comfortable leaving them to their own whims. I’ll keep you company until you get your beloved wifi back, you had graciously told them. The fact you get to laze around their fancy church residence and get an eyeful of their bare chest is just an added bonus of your charity. 

Somewhere in-between counting the muscle groups on Polyester’s ribcage or leering at the definition of his exposed arms, your attention has been noticed by Polyester, who tilts his head enough that your eyes instinctively chase the movement and lock on his own. You can’t help but flush, pink and dark, at being so openly caught.

“You look focused, cutie,” Polyester begins, all casual and breezy, “maybe you saw something you like?”

The flustered blush on your features only gets darker as Polyester sprawls himself back, clearly pleased with your attention; the way he arches himself to splay across the pew ignites a shameful spark of arousal deep into you. Trying to fire back a smart response feels like a losing game, so all you do is mouth the word ‘maybe’ at him. 

“Quit yapping, Ester,” Polyurethane says distractedly, fiddling with some bright-blue gadget. “I’m trying to fix this thing.”

“Sure, sure, do that,” Polyester responds half-heartedly as he beckons you over, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. You swing your legs off the altar and make contact with the floor to make your way over to him; the distance is only slight, but Polyester seems ridiculously self-satisfied with himself as you come to him like some sweet little pet. Despite their ridiculous ego— or maybe because of it— they always get such a kick out of your obvious adorations and praise for them. 

“Come here,” you murmur, even as you’re the one to move closer to Polyester; you take your place next to him on the flat, uncomfortable pew. You reach out, tentatively running the tips of your fingers over the ridges of his chest, feeling the warm skin of his pectorals. Polyester flexes a little, muscles twitching as he lets you explore the thick, defined planes of his body. They’re both so muscular and toned; there’s proof of their angelic nature in the uncanny imperfection of their bodies, because only beings from Heaven could be this impossibly beautiful. 

You can’t stop yourself from skimming your fingers lower, lower; the V-line that points down south beyond the tattered edge of his white pants and the outline of a sparkly gold thong is darkly tempting. There’s a simple conclusion you’ve drawn from your sinful escapades with the twins— Polyurethane has the bigger ass, but Polyester has the bigger dick. You can hear Polyester’s breath hitch as you make contact with the wiry happy trail of sky-blue hair that leads, like some treasure-map, to the deliciously thick bulge nestled between his muscular thighs.

“You want it, huh?” Polyester whispers, voice a little raspy. “I’ll give it to you good. Come here.” 

When he dips his head to capture your lips, you reciprocate; you fully go to cup his heavy bulge and Polyester lowly groans into the kiss. His teeth are on your lower lips as you run your hands over his shaft, feeling how he hardens under your touch, the way his big balls twitch under your loving; the thought of having him inside you makes your body run hot even as some vaguely rational part of you remembers you’re in a church with Polyurethane sitting a few feet away, distracted.

With an impatient groan, Polyester pulls you onto his lap, your thighs hooking over his spread legs and causing your core to be right against his throbbing dick. You feel hazy with lust and all common sense is rapidly being sweated out as Polyester pulls you in close for a messy kiss, tongue in your mouth and teeth on your bottom lip as he sighs against you. The feeling of his firm, muscular arms around you is somehow what gets you going the most; Polyester’s forearms are so buff, and he holds you with a firm grip. If you wanted to be sentimental, you could say he’s like the cheesy superhero-love-interest who could lift you from a burning building. Sentimentality is more-or-less the last thing on your mind, and instead your mind is conjuring images of his nice, big hands around your throat, or how he hooks his toned arms around your thighs when he wants to spread you wide.

Polyester breaks the heated kiss with a loose sigh. There’s a thin line of spit connecting your glossy lips, because getting all messy like this is what Polyester does best; the man himself hardly notices it as his dark-red eye is instead focused on something– or someone– behind you. Who could it possibly be? Of course his twin brother wasn’t going to sit there fiddling with a useless gadget as the two of you shamelessly got it on a couple feet away from him. 

“So shameless.” Polyurethane drags the word out with every disdainful syllable. “Like, in a church? I would totally rat you out to our boss, Ester, but I don’t wanna get dragged down with your BS…” He’s so hypocritical you’re almost shocked out of your arousal to instead launch a tirade at him about how you have a lot of nerve acting all high-and-holy after the shit you tried to pull last week with a plastic crucifix and the storage room of a Catholic bookstore but Polyurethane is too fast on propping himself up behind you, one leg on the pew and the other still on the ground. “And you!”

You try to ignore Polyester moving one hand to fondle your ass, clearly not that fazed by Polyurethane’s usual overreactions.

“You’re ignoring me,” Polyurethane accuses, coming up behind you to rest his head on your shoulder. He takes your chin in one hand and jerks your head to meet his eyes. His displeased teal gaze bores into you as his other hand takes your free one, guiding it to his own chest. “You are the rudest. Like, you’re gonna go blow up Polyester’s already-huge ego and be all ‘oh you’re so strong, your muscles are so sexy’ and ignore me? Uh, I don’t think so.”

Now that your hand is on it, your mind is spinning with thoughts of Polyurethane’s own ridiculously well-built body. There’s an almost feminine aspect to the alluring curves of Polyurethane’s torso, his pectorals so perfectly round and with plump, peachy nipples crowning them. The contrast of his firm, sculpted abs and the hard planes of his arms against his cute face and bubblegum-pink hair make you feel utterly insatiable. Polyurethane’s V-line dips beneath his matching gold thong, his impressive cock already erect from just watching you act a mess on his brother’s lap.

From behind, he moves to cup your breasts, kneading at the soft flesh like some kitten. Your clothes are still in good condition— save for an exposing cut around the midsection— but you feel as naked as the twins when Polyurethane’s thumb brushes over your nipple, the sensitive bud stiffening and hardening under his touch. You instinctively arch into his touch, and Polyester lets out a pleased chuckle at your reaction to his brother’s ministrations. The exhaustion from earlier has left you sensitive and pliant still, leaning into the indulgent touches as Polyurethane takes your breasts in his hands and pushes them together. 

“Cute,” Polyurethane murmurs into your ear. Polyester, not to be left out, dips his head low enough to put his lips on the cleavage Polyurethane is pushing together to suck a hickey right below your clavicle. When he unlatches himself, you glimpse the awfully pleased smile on his face before he goes in for another adoring kiss. 

You can feel Polyester move to tangle one hand in your hair, a telltale sign he wants you to suck him off. He’s so impatient it’s a wonder he’s lasted this long without asking you to get on your knees– the one thing you probably should do in this church– and give him a blowjob as filthy and dirty as you know he likes it. You unseat yourself from his lap and put enough space between the two of you so that you can reach his thighs. 

“Don’t go too overboard,” Polyurethane chimes in, freeing your breasts from his grip to instead encircle the waistband of your garments and drag them down. “Gotta play nice when we share.”

“Since when have you cared about that?” Polyester responds offhandedly, gently guiding you low to his bulge and then moving the synthetic fabric to the side. Polyester’s cock springs free from his shiny golden jockstrap, slapping against your cheek and leaving a filthy smear of precum. His fat cockhead is only inches away from your mouth and it feels mindless to unfurl your tongue and give him slight kitten licks; even the light touches make Polyester exhale, pleased. 

You go to use your hands on him, idly pumping his cock as you take him deeper in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip and then tracing the veiny underside; you take notice of Polyurethane moving a little, but your attention is split. A light sheen of sweat on Polyester’s chest— some remnant of exhaustion from your previous skirmish— glistens in the setting sun’s light and makes the dusky nipples on his thick, perky torso shine a little. The view drives you crazy with lust and you impulsively take another inch deeper into your throat, causing Polyester to tilt his head back and groan softly.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice thick and low with arousal. You hear Polyurethane’s exaggerated pout at the same time cool air hits you from behind, feeling suddenly exposed. Your nose is nestled in the azure tufts of Polyester’s happy trail, gagging on his thick shaft as it hits the back of your throat, when Polyurethane’s fingers spread your cunt wide. 

“It’s a good view back here,” he comments with intentional lightness. Polyester leans back.

“Nice view here too,” he agrees cordially, as if they were discussing a nice sunset. “I think we deserve it. Y’know, for working so hard. Being Heaven’s best angels, n’ all.”

“We really are the best of the best, huh?” Polyurethane boasts shamelessly, breathlessly amused as he gives your ass a light smack. “You’re pretty lucky you get all of our attention.”

You’re so full of yourself, you want to respond, but it comes out as a muffled noise around Polyester’s girth in your mouth. Polyurethane’s eyes are stuck to the insanely arousing arch of your body as you position yourself a little more enticingly on the solid pew, ass presenting upwards as you lay your upper body across Polyester’s lap. With an appreciative groan, Polyurethane lines himself up behind you, idly rubbing his tip down your messy cunt.

The thick head of his cock pushes past your tight entrance, and he lets out a low moan. Polyurethane is so big you can feel the stretch in your cunt as he fills you up, inch by addicting inch; you can only channel the overwhelming feeling through a desperate moan around Polyester’s cock. 

“Fuck, your cunt feels like heaven,” Polyurethane moans, setting a rough pace as his hips meet yours in quick, heavy thrusts. “This pretty pussy was made for me.”

“Not you,” Polyester shoots back, his hand gripping your hair to force you deeper on his cock. “Maybe me, though.”

You can’t see his face, but you just know Polyurethane is rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. Their useless bickering doesn’t even annoy you when Polyurethane’s dick feels so good, pounding into you heavy and fast, wet sounds filling the room as his balls slap against you. The empty echo of the church makes every sexual noise echo, loud amongst the otherwise sacred silence. Maybe you should feel especially ashamed for doing this someplace holy, but bringing pleasure to capital-a Angels should balance it out. Maybe. You’re too fucked-out to recall the twisted Daten City scriptures.

“Babe,” Polyurethane whines, all needy and pitchy as he draws the word out, “I’m so close. G’na cum– fuck– can I– inside you, please?”

Polyester grunts. “Me too…” The hand in your shifts, and his thumb comes to rest on your nape, idly stroking it in some odd show of tenderness Polyester always does when he’s about to cum. Polyurethane’s impending orgasm is marked by the way his grip on your hips tightens and weakens erratically, like he can’t decide if he wants to hold you tight or grab onto something else. It feels a little perverted that you’re so acquainted with their sexual habits.

“Inside me, Ure,” you mumble frantically, freeing your mouth from Polyester’s dick to jerk him off, tonguing the tip as he curses under his breath. You bob your head once, twice, before Polyester grits his teeth and unleashes a stream of sticky cum into your mouth. Almost immediately after, Polyurethane moans loud and hilts himself fully, painting your insides white as you feel the heat of his cum settle inside your pussy.

“So good, so pretty…” Polyester murmurs breathlessly, untangling his hand to instead cup your cheeks and bring your face close to his. He tastes himself on you as you kiss messily, letting out a pleased groan at the absolute filthiness of it. You can feel Polyurethane’s head drop against your shoulder, pink hair fluttering against your kiss-bitten neck. 

One of these days there’s going to be consequences for letting the twins fill you up with their seed constantly, but right now all you can think about is how right it feels when Polyurethane’s in you, raw, and Polyester’s seed turns your lips all filthy and glossy. 

(They’ve got great genes, anyway. Like, just look at their muscles.)

[peachysndcream]

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

So that's why...

featuring — Trey : Leona : Jade : Jamil : Rook : Idia : Silver x male! reader cw: slightly suggestive.

══════════════════════════

Part 2: Your lover finding out why you’re giving him pineapple 🍍

𖦹 Rook Hunt

Rook had always prided himself on his discerning palate and exquisite taste, but the way you teased him with the pineapple had been nagging at his curiosity for days. That evening, as the courtyard emptied and the warm glow of lights shimmered against the fountain, he cornered you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Mon amour, I cannot bear this suspense any longer.” he said, tilting his head as his finger traced lightly along your wrist. “You speak in riddles and fruits, but I must know… what is it about this golden treasure that makes you so sly with me?” You bit your lip, trying to hold back a laugh, but Rook’s gaze was far too intense to resist.

With a dramatic sigh, you finally gave in, cupping his face between your hands. “It’s… an experiment” you admitted, your voice soft yet teasing. “They say it can make… certain things taste sweeter.” Your eyes immediately flicked downward, the implication clear. Rook froze for a heartbeat before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with a mix of shock and delight. “Ah… mon petit scientifique.” he purred, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You have been sweetening me, quite literally, without my knowing! How scandalously clever of you.” He laughed, that carried through the quiet courtyard before pulling you close for a lingering kiss that tasted just a touch sweeter than usual.

𖦹 Idia Shroud

Idia had his hood pulled low, the glow of his monitor painting his face as he absentmindedly munched another piece of pineapple. Instantly, his face and the tips of his hair, flushed bright pink. His thoughts spiraled. You really went for that perk… of course you did. Not like I didn’t already know. It’s basic-level internet knowledge! Even normie forums talk about it… and now we’re already at THAT stage? His heart pounded but he remained still, lips pressed tight to hide the twitch of a smirk.

Still, there was no way he would let you know. Too embarrassing. If you thought you were being sly, he would let you keep that little victory.

“Flavor buff unlocked,” he muttered under his breath, fingers flying across the keyboard in rapid succession as though his focus hadn’t wavered for a second. In truth, his mind was racing faster. If you’re treating me like some hidden stat-boost quest, fine… but you’ll never catch me admitting I’ve noticed. NPCs don’t get confession cutscenes that easily.

Another cube of pineapple disappeared between his lips, and this time he chewed slowly, eyes still locked on the screen. The corners of his mouth curved faintly despite himself, a rare glimmer of amusement breaking past his usual. The thought looped like an unshakable debuff, Sweet, huh? Guess you’ll find out… but only when the event flag triggers. Until then, Player 2, good luck grinding my drop rate.

𖦹 Silver

Silver sat quietly in the lounge, finishing off the container of pineapple you had packed for him. His posture was as serene as ever, a calm air radiating from him even as his eyes carried that drowsy haze. Lilia approached, eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his son munch away with steady composure. “My, my, Silver, you’ve been eating quite a lot of pineapple lately.” Lilia chimed, leaning against his son’s shoulder with a teasing grin.

Silver blinked up at him, before answering with simple honesty. “It’s… sweet. Refreshing. (name) gives it to me often.” A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips at the thought of you, the habit of your care clear in his tone. Lilia’s grin softened for only a moment before shifting into something more mischievous. “You know, Silver,” he said, voice laced with playful wisdom, “Pineapples are very beneficial, vitamins, energy, skin health. But…” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “…there are also some unexpected benefits.”

Silver tilted his head slightly, the familiar gesture of his quiet confusion, but he nodded anyway, indulging his father’s words while chewing politely. “…Benefits?” he echoed. That was when Lilia smirked wider, his voice dropping into singsong. “Mhm, I heard this from little birds gossiping, apparently pineapple makes one’s… ahem… seed taste sweeter.”

The room froze. Silver, mid-bite, stopped with the fork still poised at his lips, his eyes widening in subtle shock. Sebek, seated nearby, nearly choked on his own breath, erupting into a thunderous cough as his face turned crimson. “LILIA-SAMA! SILVER DOESN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT!” he barked, voice cracking with embarrassment. Across the room, Malleus leaned forward slightly, his expression calm but genuinely curious. “Does fruit truly alter such things? How fascinating,” he mused earnestly, as though considering an ancient mystery of the human body.

Silver slowly lowered the fork, cheeks faintly pink, though his calm tone carried only mild exasperation. “…Father.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as Lilia cackled so hard he nearly slipped. Still, Silver reached for another piece of pineapple with quiet determination, his steady voice firm despite the heat in his face. “…If it makes me better for him, then I’ll eat as much as he gives me.”

The sincerity of his words only sent Lilia into another fit of delighted laughter, the sound echoing through the lounge as Sebek sputtered and Malleus hummed thoughtfully. Silver, unbothered now, simply continued eating, the sweetness of the fruit lingering like your care woven into every bite.

══════════════════════════

𖦹 lmao Lilia

[peachysndcream]

Dk if you do these kinds of stuff but likee..can you do NSFW Alphabet with Kinich??

I can try. I don't really have a reference for this right now, sorry if some is incorrect. NSFW CONTENT.

kinich nsfw alphabet & analysis :)

aftercare ; what are they like after sex?

so he's very gentle afterward. not necessarily was he mean during sex either, but he prefers whatever you do. firmly believe that kinich doesn't have that many Kinks, your Kinks are his Kinks. only other kink he'd have is honestly praise. cause at the same time when he cleans you up from allllll the previous rounds... his first thought and action is to whisper sweet little words into your ears.

body part ; what's his favorite on you? or his own?

everything. can't decide on a favorite. will take way too long to think of a reply, just to say "I'm not sure, I like all of you."

physical touch isn't his things but he really really likes to caress his hands all over your body—even with his gloves on, even when everyone's looking. that brings me to my next point

he likes what his hands can do for you. I'm not saying he'll prioritize only your emotions or put his aside for yours; in a way, he elevates both. more utc.

cum ; self-explanatory

a lot. like. a lot a lot. you see, this guy is super pent-up from his work, not to mention pesky clients, and stupid short deadlines, it will end up building up inside him. what's even worse is how sensitive he is when you stroke it for him !!

dirty secret ; what's something dirty they've never told anyone else?

unironically loves going feral on you with nightsoul energy flowing through him. nightsoul boosts physical aspects by a ton, like stamina, strength, flexibility, etcetera. so naturally, if you'd like, and if you're down, he'd love for this fantasy of his to come true. i'd also like to add the days when you and him weren't a thing yet, he'd accidently activate nightsoul while jerking it to you just so he can last longer ^_^

experience ; how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?

he hasn't fucked anyone prior to you because of work. his work was and had always been his number one priority, but now that money actually goes to something that isn't ajaw's food. but it would probably take a few times before you could say he knew what he was doing, you were his first, and hopefully he was your first too.

favorite ; fave position?

honestly depends, because if he just came back from work -> cowgirl, but if you just came home from a long day at your work or out with people -> missionary. if you can see a pattern, yes, he wants to see your face when he fucks you. although he isn't particularly against positions like reverse cowgirl, or doggy, he'd much prefer seeing your eyes roll back into your skull as his member enters your hole.

goofy ; is he serious when fucking?

honest to God answer right now because yes he is. there's no other answer. but he might let out a chuckle or two after you both are finished.

hair ; how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

he shaves like every 2 months so it's always a mixed answer LOL. overall kind of bushy but not too overwhelming. his hair down there is probably a shade darker though :)

intimacy ; how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect

very, and when i say very, i MEAN super duper. he's really really into it, and is deadly focused on pleasing you the most. when he's about to climax, he tends to whisper a ton of "i love you"s as well as your name paired with that!

jack off ; masturbation headcannon

when his nightsoul is activated, he cums a loooot more, but usually that depends on what he's jerking off to, and in this case its you so yes it's a lot. and that brings me to the next hc-

kink ; one or more of their kinks

just as a headcannon of mine, not that i think everyone should think like this but i'd say he also has nightsoul tattoos around his cock too, plus i'd say around his pelvis !! i'm not educated too much on where they appear so this is what i think. he likes seeing his member glow in your stomach, yes he's that long, and yes it glows that bright LOL.

he's also heavily into blindfolds / ropes, like honestly this guy would be okay with the stuff usually covered in bdsm (of course without actually hurting you),. he loves the thrill of being caught with you in public ngl ngl

location ; where does he like to do it the most?

i feel this answer might be a bit boring- but his first pick has to be the bed. not because he finds it comfy or anything, he just wants to make sure you are. he puts you above all else during these intimate moments. but dead honest gun to the head answer?

in those big ass trees he swings by all the time. might seem a tad bit outrageous, but if you really let him fuck you where he wants that isn't the bed, he's into the thrill and dopamine of getting caught. and where is a better place to be caught other than a large tree that rises up halfway a large mountain!

hope you guys know what i mean by those large trees, i mean the ones you pass by when you first start out in natlan, the white ones near the water !! (or just behind the tree faced away from the pathway)

motivation ; what turns them on, gets them going

when he sees you fight believe it or not. that's if you fight by the way! he loves seeing your badass beat up men three times his size, or even saurians who give him a hard time to complete a certain bounty. yes wipe that blood off your face and swish that blade across that guy's face... because kinich will be observing at the corner of the battlefield. a tent rising in his pants.

other than that, if you don't fight- he loves seeing you help people or animals out. when he sees you help an old woman walk across the street? damn that's hot. when you help out a child with picking an apple off a tall tree? damn that's hot. what about that one time you helped his wounds by disinfecting them and wrapping them in bondage? yup he's hard. get over here before he goes over to you.

no ; something they would not like or wouldn't do

will not tolerate any kinks that end up hurting you, i.e. degrading, biting. he's heavily turned on by you generally, so if you aren't enjoying it, he won't either. no point in pleasure if it isn't reciprocated. tit for tat you see!

oral ; does he give or receive more?

fem: trust me he isn't gonna miss the chance to get a taste of you. trust me he's gonna be super duper drunk on that pussy, he always eats you out like a homeless man getting a meal for the first time in 2 weeks. not to mention how well he can manage his grip on the soft plush of your thighs, no matter how godly you taste, he would never hurt you.

masc: oh he's gobbling that dihhh up king. like genuinely he sucks so good, it's so unironically pleasing as fuck, it's like so good that it hurts iykwim. he loves overstimulating your tip while you've just finished, and he makes sure you see him swallow your load ^_^

bonus: when it comes to receiving, he's super whiny about it !!! not in the complaining way, but he always asks for more, and of course he says please :3

pace ; are they fast and rough, or slow and sensual

depends on you, he doesn't do this with other people so he always let's you decide on whatever you're feeling like, whatever you're comfortable with.

quickie ; their opinion/take on quickies

yes, yes, yes 10/10 how does he preorder type energy. i'm sure you're well aware how busy his work gets sometimes, so he's super into them, in hopes to keep you satisfied (in that way if you have a high libido) while he's away the whole day unfortunately.

risk ; are they down to risk?

yep, yes, yeah, indeed. he is very willing to risk getting caught in public. i've endless old drabbles on how he'd fuck in a sauna, behind a tree, on the beach, hell i'd even say restaurant bathroom. i believe as much as he doesn't seem like it on the outside, dopamine makes you crazy.

stamina ; how many rounds can they go for?

without nightsoul boost? probably like 5+if i'm tryna be deadass. he already has a lot of stamina because of his workouts to make his swinging around easier when he works, or when he fights. and translating that into rounds will be a lot. he'll go on for a long time as long as you want it.

toys ; do they own any? use 'em on a partner, or maybe even himself?

nope, and never will. unless you wanna try, he isn't opposed fully, but he wouldn't go out of his way to try.

unfair ; how much they like teasing you

teases you a lot afterwards, and always manages a straight poker face until you playfully reply hearing his words. that's when his little smirk cracks the nonchalant facade. not to mention how much you squirm when you both fuck so hedonically, the way you arch your back while he whispers naughty little things in your ear- he loves it so much.

volume ; how loud is he?

when he's giving the backshots / the dih: he unironically groans and grunts a toooonn. the sounds are super similar to when he fights and gets hit hard because getting to be inside you feels like such a privilege to him he can't help but moan a deep 'fffuucckk... you're tight' every now and then.

when he's receiving backshots / head: not necessarily whimpers, but somewhat a mix of whiny and groans, but when he climaxed, his voice cracks a little, especially when he says your name.

wild card ; random hc

he loves overstimulation. he didn't know until you mention it while you both were just randomly conversing one time. he loves when you just finished cumming, and he gets to lap at you a little more for even more of your juice.

he also loves it when you overstimulate him, that's when his voice gets whinier, and voice cracks more! it's also how he finds himself swinging his head back in pleasure while you take him down the throat

x-ray ; what is he packing ?!

roughly? i'd say approx would be seven, yes seven. above average length, and he has a little bit of girth on him (~1.5in). shower instead of a grower cuz he's like 4-5in when flaccid and becomes 6-7 when hard. not too mention it grows a little more when he activates nightsoul (around an inch or two depending on his mood). yes i'll say it again, he has nightsoul tattoos around that dihh!!!!

yearning ; how is his sex libido?

doesn't need it that often, but a man caves in every now and then. even before you, he didn't really masturbate that often in general, but when you became a thing? sure it leveled up a bit but it never became something daily or weekly.

zzz ; how quick does he fall asleep after?

he doesn't sleep that well generally, so i'd say it takes him less time to fall asleep than usual, especially when he uses nightsoul during sex, it drains his stamina fully by the time it finishes, so he ends up falling back into your arms, this time eyes closed, and your hands in his locks.

thanks for coming to my ted talk, you guys can req for other characters too

[peachysndcream]

🌸~THIS IS MY FAVOURITE THING IVE EVER WRITTEN!! AGGHHHH!! Is it weird I reread my own work?? Who cares! Kazuha and Xiao's parts especially, YALL I WROTE THAT!! HAHAH!

🌸~When something silly scares you and they get protective anyway~🌸

(GN reader, maybe a little overprotective characters? Fluffy!)

(With Lyney, Kazuha, Raiden, and Xiao)

Lyney:

"You didn't hear anything? Promise?" You glanced in Lyneys direction, knowing he'd never lie to you, yet still wanting to confirm he wasn't withholding anything.

"I promise you my love, I didn't hear anything, but I'm going to check anyways. Just in case." He held out his hand for you, waiting till you accepted it before he used his other to grab his bow. It made your heart squeeze in a good way, seeing him take you seriously, despite the fact you'd just told him you heard a weird noise in the kitchen at 1 am.

He rubbed calming circles into the top of your hand as he lead you through your hallway, past the pictures lining your walls and into your dark kitchen. He flipped the light on and your eyes struggled to adjust, but slowly you took in the sight of your counters, your cupboards and you felt the tension leave your body. "Sorry, it must have been something outside or-"

"Never apologise for being scared. Just know I'll keep you safe, wether from a intruder or a noise at night or even a nightmare. I'm here."

Kazuha:

You pulled your kimono tighter, watching the shadows on the ground play tricks on your eyes, turning into long spidery hands. Clawing and reaching towards you in the dark while the woods sung creepily with their brittle leaves. You obviously knew this was all apart of the appeal of this place but...it just spooked you anyway.

"Doing okay?"

Kazuha softly nudged you with his shoulder, bringing you back to reality with that soft lazy smile of his. He always looked so calm, so at ease..it almost made you feel silly for being scared, almost. "Yeah I'm okay. I just hate how the dark makes you think about scary things that aren't there. Like weird shadow hands and spooky noises-"

As if to emphasize your point, a loud bird shrieked deep in the forest, nearly scaring you out of your own skin.

But just as suddenly as you were jumpscared, Kazuhas arm wrapped around you, enveloping you in his warmth as he unsheathed his sword in the direction of the woods. Calmness turned into protectiveness as he leaned in close, whispering against your ear while his hand held protectively onto your waist, "I promise you, there's nothing in this forest that could ever hurt you, for as long as I'm by your side, I'll protect you, my heart."

Raiden:

"EEEEEK!" You screeched, throwing your hands up in sheer terror as a person in a mask jumped out at you, moving erratically like they'd been possessed. "WHO ARE YOU!"

"I am the darkness, the nightmares, im-...is that the shogunate?" The attacker...who you now realised sounded a awful like a old friend of yours, paused, as if looking behind you.

Following his gaze, you saw her. The air around you turned static, making it hard to breath and if a look could kill, hers would have. Each step could have cracked the earth beneath you, "I, the Raiden Shogun, will cut you down to nothing but a shift in the soil, a spec of dust on the ground, if you so ever decide to make them scream in fear like that again. Do I make myself clear?"

She stood next you, emitting a force so powerful you felt small in comparison, "Ei-"

"Do I?"

"Y-yes miss shogunate ma'am! I will never prank them again! Promise! So sorry, so so so sorry!"

Xiao:

"It was literally nothing. I just...panicked." You rubbed your hands together, embarrassed that you'd called on him for something so childish. He would never trust you with using his name again and you couldn't even be mad at him for it cause you'd just misused it so badly.

You tried not to meet his searing gaze, knowing he was probably more then a little annoyed with you. You'd probably woken him up or...wait did adeptis sleep? You'd ask him later, if he still talked to you after. "It was stupid, I understand if you don't want me to call you agai-"

His fingers reached out to touch your cheek, softly moving to your chin. He forced you to look him in the eye, those intense yellow eyes that almost glowed in the moonlight. "You heard something that scared you. You called for me and I appeared. I will do it all over again as many times as you need. If you don't feel safe, I will show up. I want to end whatever scares you, I want you to sleep without fear. Call on me, no matter what."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[peachysndcream]

"Hands Full"

a/n: This is an anon request.

pairing: scaramouche x you

genre: fluff (with suggestive content)

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Scaramouche had… a thing about your chest.

Not in the usual sense people might think—though sure, sometimes that was part of it—but in his everyday little habits, the subtle ways he gravitated toward you. The way his hands always seemed to find their place against your breasts like it was second nature, like they were his built-in comfort objects.

It started out small. You were lounging on the couch one night, scrolling through your phone, when you felt a sudden chill. A second later, Scaramouche plopped down beside you with a scowl, muttering about how cold his fingers were. Before you could offer him a blanket, his hands slid up under your shirt and came to rest right on your chest.

You jumped. "Scara!"

"What? They’re warm." His voice was flat, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. He rubbed his palms against you as if to prove his point. "See? Problem solved."

Your heart raced, but he just looked satisfied, leaning back against the couch like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

That became his default. Cold hands? Straight under your shirt, no hesitation. Bored? He’d sit next to you and absentmindedly knead at your chest like a cat making biscuits, eyes trained on whatever book he was reading or show you had on. Sometimes he didn’t even seem aware he was doing it until you caught him and teased him.

"Scara," you said once, when you felt him fiddling with the hem of your shirt before his hand wandered up. "You know normal people just… hold hands when they’re bored, right?"

"Normal people are boring." He didn’t look up from his phone. "Besides, I like this better.'

And that was that.

It wasn’t all shameless groping, though. There were softer moments, moments that made your chest ache in a completely different way. Nights when he was too quiet, curled up beside you after a long day, his head resting right on your chest. He claimed it was comfortable, but you could feel the way he stilled, listening to your heartbeat with that strangely tender expression that only surfaced when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

One rainy evening, you caught him. He’d been laying on top of you for a while, tracing lazy circles against your side while his cheek pressed into you. You felt his breathing even out, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep—until he whispered, voice low and rough:

"It’s loud."

You blinked. "What is?"

"Your heartbeat." He shifted just slightly, his ear pressing closer. "It’s… annoying."

But the way he held onto you tighter told a different story. You laughed softly and brushed your fingers through his hair, and he let you, closing his eyes with a little sigh that betrayed him completely.

And sometimes, he wasn’t subtle at all. Once, you walked into the kitchen to find him waiting for water to boil for tea. His hand was tucked under your shirt, idly squeezing as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Scara!" you exclaimed.

He turned his head lazily. "What? You weren’t using them."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but he smirked at the sight of you flustered. "They’re mine too, you know," he added casually, leaning down to press a kiss over your shirt where his palm rested, just to watch you splutter.

Despite how often you scolded him, you secretly loved it—the way his touch lingered, not always fueled by desire, but by comfort, fondness, and an almost childlike need to remind himself you were there.

Because under all the snark, Scaramouche was tactile. He needed to feel you, to hold on, to ground himself in the solid, steady warmth you gave him. And if that meant your chest was constantly subjected to his attention… well, you couldn’t really bring yourself to mind.

Especially when, late at night, he curled against you with his hand resting there, not squeezing, not teasing—just holding. Just breathing. Just listening to the rhythm that promised him you were alive, here, his.

[peachysndcream]

REALLY...HIM?

☆彡 in which professor crewel judges your relationship with the NRC boys

nrc boys x reader (minus ortho)

word counter: 4.8K (200+ per character)

tags: reader is prefect, crewel is your father figure, established relationship, possible ooc

a/n: oh this was by far my most requested work. people wanted father crewel!! i held off on writing this for a while because i felt like i had such a weak grasp on his character. i did my research for this but sorry if my interpretation is off. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

Very against this. It's just one bad influence after another with you, isn't it? First Grim, now this guy. You attract the absolute worst pups, don’t you? You’re lucky you’re his favorite. That’s not stopping Crewel from being crazy strict with both of you though. Expect to get seated across the classroom from your boyfriend. There are plenty of well-behaved puppies in the litter, why are you settling for one who barely knows how to sit? Ace and Crewel are NOT getting along. It’ll take Ace trying to improve himself (i.e. not getting in as much trouble) for Crewel to start being more accepting of him as your boyfriend. If he sees Ace attempting to be a better student, he's more than happy to start extending some grace. He isn’t that cruel… And then Crewel finds out that Ace cheated on a few tests and he’ll get detention for weeks. In detention Crewel is going to make him write a 12 page essay about his bad behavior; standing over his shoulder the whole time as Ace writes this. He'll crack his whip against the boy’s desk if he slows down while writing… Yeah. So much for not being cruel. These two are going to be bickering CONSTANTLY. With time, they’ll mellow out and their arguments will get more playful. (i’m imagining it like Meemaw and George from Young Sheldon) But don't expect him to stop punishing him. It's what bad pups get after all.

deuce spade

Believes you two are adorable together! You two puppies can bounce off and learn from each other. He’ll push Deuce to follow your example, especially if your grades are better than his. He is an educator above all else and takes his position very seriously. Though, as your self-proclaimed father figure, he will be watching Deuce closely. Yes, the pup is good intentioned. But he also has a tendency to get in trouble and still has a long road ahead of him. Crewel will be getting more strict with Deuce, but it isn't as strict as he is with Ace. He's more willing to let some of Deuce's mistakes slide because he sees that he genuinely wants to be better. But those mistakes are in terms of academics. If he makes mistakes in your relationship? Oh that pup is getting whooped. No questions asked. Crewel will not tolerate him hurting you and he has made that very, very clear to Deuce who accidentally got a closer look at the professor's whip. It's not that he thinks that Deuce will hurt you. He's just making sure. He sees it akin to putting a leash on a puppy as they play to make sure they don't get rowdy with the other dogs. Deuce is simply being kept in check by him. Perhaps under Crewel's watchful eye, he will shape up to be the perfect pup for you! He believes Deuce has the potential. It's just a matter of unlocking it.

cater diamond

He's fond of the boy. Makes sure Cater doesn't get away with using his phone in class. He'd hate for any bad influences to start coming your way, so he'll ensure that Cater is following the rules to the tee. He isn't afraid to take away or even break Cater's phone if the time calls for it. Crewel's actually been wanting to get to know Cater more since he's heard about his Magicam. The professor is acutely aware of the latest trends and what not but firmly believes that vintage looks just hit different. So, with Cater now being your boyfriend, he'll be more likely to come up to Cater and recommend him fashion brands that most young people probably wouldn't know about. He's going to start buying you two matching couple outfits, enjoying seeing both of you represent older luxury brands. In exchange, Cater will usually talk to Crewel about celebrity gossip or whatever's trending. This will all be heavily scrutinized by Crewel, but the professor just can't stop listening to what new gossip Cater has. He's open to hearing about student gossip too. Crewel is always open to learning more about his adorable pups and makes sure they aren't misbehaving. Cater becomes his news outlet of sorts. Honestly, Crewel is probably talking to your boyfriend more than you. You're still his favorite of course, he's as loyal as a German Shepherd. Cater is his just new gossip buddy.

trey clover

A fine choice, albeit boring in his opinion. Crewel enjoys a little flare, obviously. His curiosity will grow as to how your relationship happened and why you'd want to be with Trey. His attention will be on Trey more often. And being the astute teacher he is, he'll start to notice more and more... interesting comments that Trey lets slip. Crewel will definitely find out about that side of Trey which... he doesn't know how to feel about it. On one hand; flare! Yay! Now he understands his favorite little pup's relationship better. On the other... Trey is a rather bizarre man is he not? He thinks to himself; how did he ever think that Trey was a normal student? NRC has none of those, much to the teacher's dismay. He appreciates Trey's efforts to win him over though; leaving him little treats. It's like watching a dog bring back a bone, waiting for validation. He'll give it to the boy with due time. Though, Crewel would rather see him treat you nicely as opposed to Trey giving him gifts. He's obviously a well-trained pup, especially given his position as the vice-housewarden of Heartsbyul. Though, Crewel is hesitant to say any boy is worth your attention, he doesn't mind Trey and his tendency of spoiling you. It's what you deserve. Crewel really doesn't have any reservations about your relationship. He just has his suspicions on Trey as a person. Especially if you tell him about the teeth thing. Please don't tell him about the teeth thing.

riddle rosehearts

He appreciates you going for an obedient pup. Crewel hopes Riddle will push you to be more responsible, officially assigning him as your partner in all the classes you have together. The professor also asks him to be your tutor after seeing how well you work together. Academically speaking, Crewel believes Riddle is a good pup. However, he wants to make sure you're being treated like royalty in your relationship and isn't afraid to make vague threats to scare the boy a little. He'll say things around Riddle like, "Hm. It's been quite a while since you and the Prefect have gone on a date, hasn't it?" While not so subtly cracking his whip. Fear is one of the best motivators and best believe Riddle instantly took you on a date after that incident. They have mutual respect for one another as they're both sticklers for the rules. Riddle is just a bit... intimidated at times by his professor. But it's all smooth sailing. Crewel just reminds Riddle of the consequences of treating you poorly. A lot. The housewarden is unnerved but uses it as an opportunity to better himself, earning some brownie points in Crewels book. He's always had a soft spot for obedient puppies.

jack howl

Crewel's intensity really gets to him sometimes. He knows it's bad but whenever Crewel's around Jack starts to overthink. "Why is he looking at me like that... What if I did something wrong? What punishment will I have to face?" In reality, Crewel likes Jack. He thinks you picked the cutest little pup ever. Partly because Jack is a wolf beastman with dog-like features. But Crewel also recognizes Jack's grit. He's actually quite charitable when it comes to complimenting him. During class, Crewel will correct and check up on Jack quite a lot. The beastman takes this as his Crewel not thinking he's good enough for you. But in reality it's quite the opposite. Crewel just genuinely enjoys teaching things to Jack. He approves of the relationship, believing you've chosen a well-rounded dog. Strong, reliable, a rule-follower— it appears you've finally gained a good companion. However, as time goes by, Jack can't stand the thought of Crewel not thinking he's well suited for you. Soon enough, he goes to the teacher and spills his guts, saying that he knows he's not perfect but he's trying really hard to be the man you need. Crewel laughs, patting him on the head. "Oh, you silly little pup. You already have my approval." Jack is shocked to hear this, but it does make him happy to hear. All the more reason to be devoted to you in Jack's mind.

ruggie bucchi

He's not fond of troublemakers— a well known fact. So, Ruggie tries to be more subtle with his mischief once he finds out that Crewel's protective over you. As much as he'd like to stick it to the man, Ruggie quite enjoys his life and would rather not play with fire. But Crewel catches on. He always does. And oh boy, he finds Ruggie's under the table misbehavior to be anything but tasteful. His whip is going to be put to good use. Ruggie gets mortified and starts skipping class, making the whole situation worse. You're probably going to have to be the middleman for these two and make sure nothing goes overboard. Needless to say, Crewel is not fond of Ruggie. However, the teacher respects his work ethic. That boy is always on the job, looking to get extra cash. There's potential in Ruggie and Crewel is going to find it. Meaning that he's going to bug you for more information about your boyfriend before pulling him aside and having a genuine talk with the pup. After the talk, they seem on good terms, with Crewel even complimenting Ruggie from time to time! Yay! Little do you know that he's constantly threatening your boyfriend with the whip.

leona kingscholar

He hardly sees the appeal of a lazy cat who sleeps his days away. Leona is hardly in class so Crewel can't even punish him. He'll have a stern talking with you, telling you not to settle for anything you don't deserve. Once you explain that, "Oh no, Leona treats me very well." and maybe throwing in a, "He lets me use his credit card." for good measure, Crewel will be more open to the idea of you two dating. He could always sense that Leona had that side to him, but he absolutely despises his laziness. He'll try to get you to convince the beastman to come to class more often. Crewel starts threatening to punish you if your boyfriend continues to skip. After all, your boyfriend is an extension of you. And if you're boyfriends being a bad pup, then you are too. So basically you're begging Leona to start to come to class again because Crewel does not play when it comes to punishments. Crewel is not holding back any punishments once Leona starts attending classes more. It's extremely frustrating for Crewel— seeing untapped potential in Leona. He doesn't tolerate this pups behavior, but he genuinely wants to see him be better and decides to talk to him after class. Leona is surprised when Crewel isn't being too preachy and instead talks about how he wants to make sure you're being treated right. It kinda pisses the beastman off that his professor thinks he'd ever treat you wrong in the first place, but it does give him some newfound motivation. The two eventually grow to have a mutual respect relationship on the basis that they both want you to be happy. Though, Crewel still thinks dogs are better than cats. And frankly, this extends to your boyfriend. Sorry not sorry.

floyd leech

What spell does this leech have you under!? In what world would he EVER let you date this monster of a man!? This love is forbidden! Crewel will go full Romeo and Juliet style when restricting you two because he is NOT letting you date Floyd! Nope! Not if he has a say in it! Going on a date tonight? Too bad, he's assigning both of you extra homework that must be completed ON YOUR OWN. Floyd dislikes him right back, always complaining to you how Crewel's no fun. Floyd is one of the biggest troublemakers on campus, right next to Grim. Arguably worst. Floyd is going to get really upset about Crewel's attitude about it and, to your horror, he confronts the professor about it shamelessly. RIP your boyfriend. That poor guy is NOT making it out alive. If you make the mistake of asking Crewel why he doesn't like Floyd, oh that man will go on a tangent. He will be talking for HOURS. I don't see this relationship improving either. Floyd has no intention of changing ever; very content with how he is. If anything, he's making it worse by talking back and throwing tantrums. And it's probably going to be your job to calm him down because Azul and Jade do not wanna deal with allat. Have fun!

jade leech

Unsettled to say the least. He swears up and down that the pup is plotting something. Unfortunately Sam tells him he's overthinking it. He will be sitting you two away from each other... A part of Crewel genuinely wants to get to know him and how this relationship flourished. A louder part of Crewel wants to get you the hell away from this pup because he's scheming SOMETHING he can sense it. All their interactions are going to be the most tense thing ever. Like, both of them are going to be staring at one another with the most strained smiles in the universe. As Jade passes by Crewel's desk with his up-to-no-good smile, I can picture him saying, "Is something the matter, professor?" And then Crewel hitting him back with an equally as devious grin. "Nothing that concerns you, my pup." And then they'll proceed to have a staring contest until you inevitably drag your boyfriend away. Hey, at least Crewel is outright disapproving or hostile to your boyfriend? But he does give you several warnings to watch Jade closely. Because no one should like mushrooms that much. It's suspicious. Crewel is definitely paranoid and probably has a bunch of conspiracy theories on Jade but he never really disapproves of the relationship. A win is a win?

azul ashengrotto

As mean as this sounds, Crewel can sense his insecurity. He's just learned how to pick up on those kind of things after being a teacher. And Azul reeks of hidden insecurity to the professor. He doesn't go any easier on him— he'd be damned if he let any of his puppies step out of line. But he's much more open to be complimentary, especially since you're dating Azul. He'll encourage Azul to spend more time with him after class for studies in order to give him pep talks. If Azul was good enough to catch your eye, then Crewel assures him that he doesn't need to put on this whole 'business' facade to win anyones favor. Azul is definitely stunned to receive this kind of talk from his teacher, but decides to take his advice to heart because he really does love you. Crewel doesn't tell you any of this. Whenever you talk about your boyfriend he kinda just nods along and goes, "That's nice, honey." But in actuality, he smiles to himself after hearing that Azul's been coming out of his shell more. Or— in his case pot. He's no love expert, but he goes soft when he hears that his students are genuinely improving.

kalim al asim

Okay. Get that money. Crewel respects the grind; going for the richest kid on campus. But he isn't a fan of how reliant Kalim is on Jamil in terms of academics. And now that he knows that Kalim is your partner, he'll be harsher on the boy. Crewel doesn't want you hanging out with non-scholars! You deserve a very intelligent boyfriend who can at least get a B average. So he pushes to see Kalim more after class without his attendant, claiming that he needs to learn how to be independent. Kalim obviously struggles with this a bit due to his upbringing, but is willing to take the challenge! Especially if it's to win the respect of your father-like figure! He's really sweet and does try hard... but it doesn't garner much results much to Crewel's dismay. Nonetheless, Kalim does in fact show the grit that was needed in order for Crewel to approve of your relationship. Though, he does insists that Kalim continues to come after class on his own. Maybe you could tag along and help him. Because somethings that boy just doesn't get, no matter how hard Crewel tries. The professor can't help but smile when he sees how lovesick Kalim is over you. He'll watch from afar as you two puppies hug each other in the halls. If you accidentally make eye contact with him, Crewel will give you a small, approving nod.

jamil viper

Crewel has had his eye on Jamil before the two of you started dating. He could tell that the pup held himself back. For what reason, Crewel couldn't say but once he heard the news about you two, he definitely used it as an excuse to get to know Jamil more. He'll watch how Jamil acts around you, the way he relaxes and becomes more snarky. Crewel finds himself liking this version of Jamil more than the quiet, blend in the crowd guy that he presents himself as to the professor. So, Crewel decides to force him out of it. He'll push him, purposely grading his papers harder so that he'll have to put in more effort. Crewel knows that Jamil is capable of 'A' papers despite only turning in 'C' level work. His solution? He makes it so that, in order to get a 'C', Jamil has to turn in 'A' level work. Call it unfair, but it works. Jamil does get frustrated and rants about it to you. As hard as he tries to bite his tongue, he'll eventually let something slip on accident to Crewel. Now, Crewel hates disrespect. But he knows he purposely pushed the pup to see this side— the true side. He'll tell Jamil that being fake doesn't suit him. So, Jamil drops the act. He isn't stupid, Crewel is basically your father and he isn't trying to get on any of your family's (blood related or not) bad side. And it turns out to be for the better as they actually develop a nice bond with Jamil being more himself. Some puppies just need to be pushed out of their crate.

epel felmier

Crewel is happy to hear you're dating a Pomfiore student! He'd like his son-in-law to be fashionable. Then he hears that it's Epel and he's mildly disappointed. Listen, he genuinely cares for his students so he pays attention. And he's heard Epel slip out his native tongue underneath his breath. He's seen the boy rough play with Ace and Deuce. He knows that this pup is different from the other Pomfiore students. That's why he also gets frustrated when Epel tries to maintain this fake act with Crewel. "Good pups don't play pretend when it isn't asked of them. Drop this act. That's an order." This, naturally, freaks Epel out a bit. The country boy is a bit ashamed to be himself around Crewel since he really wanted to appease him due to your father-like bond with him. But he isn't going to disobey— Epel has seen Crewel's punishments, he's not taking his chances. Although Crewel isn't the biggest fan of Epel's southern charm, he appreciates the pup being his real self around him. Is he good enough to date you? Not in Crewel's book, no. But he'll allow it. Epel knows what the punishments are if he breaks your heart anyways.

rook hunt

What compelled you to want to date this man? Crewel doesn't understand your taste. Rook starts leaving clothing and jewelry from luxury brands that Crewel loves on his desk. The professor has very mixed feelings about this. 1. How did Rook find out what brands he's partial to? Should he be concerned about this? Because he's getting concerned. 2. Crewel doesn't like the idea of being bought over. No matter how much he enjoys the gifts. Because he wants your love to be genuine. Crewel wants to see proof that Rook is treating you right, not another luxurious coat that he'll definitely be wearing later down the line. He takes the fact that Rook thinks he can be bought over as an insult and pulls him aside after class, giving the pup a stern talking to. "Non non! I simply gifted it because it reminded me of you, professor! These have nothing to do with my devotion toward the Prefect." Crewel smells bs and does NOT tolerate that. He'll punish Rook by having him clean the alchemy tools after the freshman class since that class was notorious for leaving behind a mess. Rook knew what he was doing. His hand holds yours tighter and he smiles as you two pass by Crewel, with Rook catching a glimpse of the professor wearing one of the necklaces Rook gifted him. You just sigh because there's no way of controlling this man. His audacity knows no bounds.

vil schoenheit

Oh, Crewel is living for this. Vil might just be the one student he fully approves of, 100%. You dating one of the top alchemy students who is also an actor and model with the best sense of fashion in the entire school? Now that's a good puppy! Crewel almost wants to buy both of you treats with how over the moon he is. Vil, ever so charming, easily woos Crewel over by showing him how caring and compassionate he is towards you while also maintaining good grades and fixing your clothes. The professor smiles wide as he asks you, "How's your boyfriend doing?" And he listens happily as you tell him about the super romantic date that Vil took you on. Vil also seeks Crewel out for opinions on different outfits he plans on wearing to his modeling shoots. Crewel is more than happy to give his two cents. All the alchemy students have Vil to thank for the professor being in such a good, less snappy mood. He's not any less strict on them, but he compliments their work much more as he thrills over the fact that his little puppy is dating the perfect student. There's nothing more pure than puppy love, and he sees it written on Vil's face whenever he's around you.

idia shroud

You're dating the recluse? Now how did that happen? Crewel rarely sees Idia so he hasn't exactly seen how the two of you interact. He urges and bugs you to get your boyfriend to show up to his class. Cause Crewel only has a faint idea of what he's like. And once he does get familiar with Idia... Oh... Oh, puppy, why? Why him? Not exactly the type Crewel would've gone for at all. He'll definitely have to punish Idia a few times. Partly because of his horrendous attendance. Partly because he's heard him say a few sly comments under his breath. But mainly so he'll know the consequences of hurting you. Idia is beyond TERRIFIED of this man. Why does he keep calling him a 'pup'?! WHY DOES HE HAVE A WHIP?! And his fears are justified when Crewel punishes him. Idia will let out a loud sigh as he snuggles against you. "Out of all the staff members to be your fatherly figure... Did it have to be him?" Which is pretty funny because you're pretty sure you've heard Crewel complain, "Out of all the students... you chose him?" Looks like they've got some similarities. Just don't expect Idia to be striking up conversation with Crewel ever. Same goes with Crewel. They just pretend that the other doesn't exist and move on with their days.

sebek zigvolt

Oh, Crewel knows who Sebek is. That pup has a lot to learn. Especially when it comes to controlling his volume. Crewel uses the fact that you're dating him to teach him a lesson. "If you yell a single time in my class again this week, I will have your relationship with the Prefect ended. That is a guarantee." It's not a guarantee since Crewel knows he can't really control you, but he says it to keep Sebek in check. And it works. Nobody knew he could stay that silent for that long. Crewel was pleased with the progress, giving him a pat on the head with a small, "Good pup!" Oh, and Crewel is especially satisfied when Trein comes to complain to him that Sebek's been extremely loud in his class as of late. Crewel shrugs, claiming that he's been nothing but the most obedient dog in his class. "Maybe it's a teaching problem regarding you?" Trein wanted to strangle him when he said that. Crewel found it extremely amusing. The professor honestly thanks you for dating Sebek because this is the most fun he's had in a while. You're just glad that Sebek got Crewel's mark of approval. Because you know he would've been crushed if he didn't.

silver

He isn't a fan of the boy who's always sleeping. Crewel becomes even harsher when he hears the two of you are dating. It's hard for Silver so eventually the student comes to him explaining his condition. The professor is much more understanding after that. He actually tries really hard to help Silver, probably dragging you along as well. He'll have you stay after class for some parent-kid (blood related or not, you are literally his child) bonding while making a potion. Crewel will make dozens of potions, giving each one to you so you can pass it along to your boyfriend. None of them really make his condition go away fully of course, but it definitely helps as he's able to stay awake in class. Silver is extremely thankful for the help from Crewel, making it a point to express his gratitude nearly every time he sees him. With Silver awake more often, Crewel's able to witness the knightly way in which he treats you. Spoiler alert; he loves it. Yes! Live out your fairytale dreams, puppy! Crewel's convinced that Silver was a medieval knight in a previous life. He also offhandedly mentions that Silver should start modeling because that pup is GORGEOUS. (I'm biased because have you seen his eyes!?)

lilia vanrouge

Sure. He's cute.... Wait he's how old? Crewel is NOT approving when he finds out that Lilia is probably older than him. It's funny because Crewel starts to talk to Lilia more like he's a staff member than a student. And Lilia happily goes along with it. It's such a switch when he talks to you and then your boyfriend. "Hello, pup. I'm glad to hear you had a good day. How's your alchemy project coming along?... Oh, Lilia. How's the mortgage." "Quite well, professor. How's the wife? Wait, sorry, I forgot— you don't have one." Yeah, he hates your boyfriend actually. May or may not attempt to set you up with someone else. Only for the person that Crewel sets you up with to be Lilia catfishing as someone else. "Khee hee~ The internet these days is crazy, isn't it?" If you look closely you could probably see steam coming out from Crewel's head. The professor will make it a point to constantly tell you that your boyfriend is the worst. He doesn't even consider him a pup in the litter. He's a rodent who somehow snuck into the box. A rodent that you adopted much to Crewel's dismay.

malleus draconia

Since it was well known that Crewel was your father like figure, Malleus actually made it a point to go to him and declare his love for you. It kinda catches the professor off guard. One minute he's just grading papers. The next some fae pup busts through the door and starts spouting Shakespeare style how much he loves Crewel's unofficial adopted child. Crewel is left speechless by the time Malleus done, barely even registering all that he just spouted. "... You have my approval?" Heavy on the question mark. Crewel might've had no idea what Malleus said, but if he willingly went on a 30 or so minute tangent about how much he loved you— he probably loves you a lot. And Crewel doesn't regret it as he watches the two of you bond like you're in your own little world. He'll start being more open about approaching Malleus, suggesting small tweaks to Diasomnia's dorm uniforms. Your boyfriend agrees with the biggest smile and implants the suggestion right away, loving the fact that he has the favor of your father figure. Crewel likes to watch the two of you from a far and muses how the most unlikely creatures from completely different worlds can still fall deep into puppy love. The universe works in funny ways, doesn't it?

[peachysndcream]

cyruz.,,, can you imagine gmab mc in riddle's dream?? orz desperate riddle who unironically drreams about you being his long distance girlfriend ahahahahah pulling u away to his room to finally get some pussy,,!!!poor boy hes waited so long his whole life actually

oh anon if you only knew how convenient the timing of this ask was... i JUST finished riddle's dream in my own playthrough of twst and ohhh brother this little brat... seeing his reaction to seeing trey, the way he ran up and (i ASSSUMEEE--- the sprites dont give us much to go on) tugged on his arm... this riddle seems soooo clingy hejahahah??2?? why r u my twin okk so in spirit of us being locked in i wrote a little drabble…ficlet??? in gmab style so its soooo low quality and i promise i match your freak it just came out more vanilla than i was intending…! oh riddle if only you knew how big of a guilty pleasure u r,, oh curse gmab for being normal i would SO make them fuck if i could! the odds r against me anon (wc: 1.3k words)

“𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘! 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 hold out on me, too? You should’ve told me you were coming!”

Essentially, your fate was sealed with two (three?) sentences— sentences that absolutely no version of reality could prepare you for. Because in what fucking world (out of the two you’ve been in) would Riddle Rosehearts be on top of you, smothering you in affections that would normally send him into cardiac arrest? Answer: NONE. So, what the fuck is all this?

There’s so many questions racing through your head all at once. Why is he dreaming about his hair being dyed? Why is he dreaming about being in a band with Chenya of all people? Why is he dreaming about his mother not being a cunt? 

Why is he dreaming about being in a RELATIONSHIP with you—?

If the real, lucid Riddle could realise this circus of a dream he’s having— you think he’d finally clock out of his shift of life. You, in all your confused, midly uncomfortable glory— strewn across his bed after practically being dragged off and tossed onto it. And him, straddling your waist, caging your legs in with his legs— arms around your neck and kissing you into oblivion.

‘Just kill me, just kill me, just kill me—’ Is what you would say if you could talk. But now, his mouth is on yours and you genuinely cannot get a moment to breathe. 

His lips trail down from yours in a feverish rush, scattering kisses along your jaw, the hollow of your throat, that one point of your collarbone that makes your head all fuzzy— And his grip only slides up to your neck and tightens— not choking you, per se (you think you’d kill yourself if he was that freaky), but enough to keep you from moving.

“Long distance is so torturous. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you? Why did you have to go to that stupid school, anyway?” He murmurs against your skin, and you think you die inside a little. 

Theoretically… maybe you should lock in and try to get some kind of info out of this— so that you can wake him up…! But it’s kind of hard when the boy you’re just PLATONIC (keyword: platonic) friends with is rubbing up on you like he hasn’t had game for year— Oh, God. He’s sucking on your neck now. HELLO?

You flail an arm, trying to push his head away, but he only nestles closer, nuzzling into your chest with the desperation of a starved man. You were ninety-nine percent sure he was trying to unbutton your shirt with his teeth. Oh, brother. . .

Now, it’s not as if you’re not totally into this… but for the sake of Riddle— the REAL Riddle— you should NOT be entertaining this.

“Uh— Riddle, hi, hello, yes babe I missed you too!” You blurt out, craning your neck back as far as humanly possible. How do Vil and Neige act? How does Ace lie to a motherfucker’s face like a jackass? Because this is genuinely the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. “But you can’t just DRAG me away from everyone when you have guests over…! Aren’t you, uhm, excited to see Trey, too…?” 

Your words don’t seem to deter him in the slightest. If anything, he pulls back just long enough to flash you a grin so ridiculously lovesick you almost want to call the nurse. “Oh, forget about them! They’re not going anywhere, anyways. Can’t I love up on you in peace?”

WHAT THE FUCK. Riddle would NOT say this?? Why is he mischaracterising HIMSELF in his own dream???

“…Buddy. You have some fucked up dreams.” You deadpan.

Riddle rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but just shut up and kiss me back, already.” His hand moves to your face, squishing your cheeks so hard your lips are forced into a pucker. Riddle giggles, tilting his head at the sight— before placing a series of chaste pecks right to the center. 

. . .Right. So. Your dignity officially jumps out the window the moment he starts making little mwah, mwah, mwah noises against your lips.

“Ohhh, you’re just so cute!” He croons, and you’re sure he’s damn near buzzing with excitement. “I could just eat you up. You’re so lucky our clothes are still on.”

HUUUUUUHHH?

“WHO is YOU?” Your mouth falls agape, and you shimmy backward until your back hits the grand headboard. You can’t keep up this charade, you genuinely can’t— “I THINK it’s time to go get to know your new bandmates better— you know, the guys waiting in your living room—?! Let’s just—”

“Oh, don’t tease me!” Riddle exclaims, falling into your lap with such a dramatic flair you can hardly believe you’re not the one dreaming here. “I missed you so, so, so much! Please? Just kiss me back once, baby? Pleaseee—!”

There are… even more questions in your head, now. Is he… begging to let him hit? Why is he desperate in his own fucking dream? …WHY is he BEGGING you to LET HIM HIT?

“…If I kiss you, will you go back downstairs and talk to the others?”

“Ugh, I guess…”

Gang. Genuinely, why is he mischaracterising himself? Like unironically? What the hell is going on?? You know it’s just because he’s in a dream Malleus created… but Malleus could NOT possibly be blamed for ALL of this.

So you do just what you promise. You take his face into your hands and you kiss him. One firm, proper kiss.

But unfortunately, Riddle is just big and greedy. One big, gargantuan, gluttonous beast— one that could rival even the fatty Riddle in Trey’s dream. Because one kiss is not enough to satisfy your… temporary boyfriend…?

The second your lips meet his, it’s safe to say he positively devours you. As if the act of you initiating it had greenlighted all of his perverted needs. He surges forward like a drowned man finally given air, hand sliding up sporadically to cradle your jaw. Now, his body is flush against yours, encasing you against the mahogany word of his bed.

You groan despite yourself, surprised at his boldness. It’s a sound that makes Riddle shiver atop of you, and he deepens the kiss instantly— swallowing every noise you make. His thighs clamp tighter around your waist, hips rolling against yours in an action you’re not even sure he’s aware of doing— but it sends a warm feeling between your own thighs nonetheless. 

“Mmgh— ah—!” The little sounds slip out of you whether you like it or not, your hands fisting his shirt as he drags his mouth down to your throat again. He sucks, biting lightly, then laves the sting with his tongue. 

It makes you squirm— you can’t help but do it. But his arms only coil around you, locking you in place.

“Oh, blast… I can’t keep it to just a kiss.” He pants, voice breaking into something whiney and needy. “You’ll let me have more, won’t you? Tell me you will— I need you… I need you right now… right here—!”

It’s all a mess. Hot, sloppy, and just plain greedy. He moans into your mouth and he barely lets you gasp for air— everytime you break away just ends in being pulled in for more— tilting your face just so, thumb brushing over your cheek as if he can’t stop himself from doting on you.

“Fuck, Riddle! Behave yourself—?!” You gasp, feeling his hand trail beneath the hem of your skirt. It’s a gesture far too obscene for the Riddle Rosehearts to be making— but… shit, he certainly drives a hard bargain. However, at the end of the day. . .

You’re lucid, and he’s dreaming. So you do the responsible thing and wrench him off of you, sneaking one last kiss before it.

But seeing the poor pout on his cute face and the obvious tent in his pants… There's only one question you have, now;

When he does wake up… will he agree to continue this?

[peachysndcream]

18+ uzui tengen having quality time with his shy wife

you sink down onto his lap, the glistening head of his cock pressing against your entrance, each slow nudge sending fire through your body until your walls finally give way. the glorious stretch fills you inch by excruciating inch until you’re seated fully, lower belly tight and aching. a moan slips out before you can stop it, warmth flooding your cheeks as shame and desire mingle. instinctively, you turn your face away, hiding behind the wide sleeve of your robe.

a large jeweled hand catches your wrist in an instant, gentle yet firm. “now, don’t hide from me,” tengen chides softly, “you’re a flamboyant sight to behold. don’t rob me of that, dear wife.”

a small nod from you is rewarded by a deep, open-mouthed kiss—his tongue sliding past your teeth, greedily savouring your moans like fine wine. his other hand slips inside your robes, palm cupping your breast, kneading in time with the subtle, teasing thrusts of his hips. soon, pleasure overcomes your shame, and you clutch his shoulders, hips hitching up and down as you press yourself deeper onto him. soft, breathy mewls escape your lips, each one letting him know exactly how good it feels.

“shy no more,” tengen murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek as he holds you in his broad arms. “you’ll shine just as flamboyantly as the rest of us. i’ll see to it every time.”

to drive his point home, tengen rocks up once—just once—and your walls clamp instinctively around him, a soft hiccup of a moan escapes your lips as your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the fiery red of his gaze. his cock twitches deep inside you, warmth flooding your womb as he grinds you down against him, holding you so close that not a drop can escape.

a rich chuckle of disbelief rumbles from his chest as you stare wide-eyed at him. “hah… look at me,” he jests, extravagant and proud, though a rare flush tinges his cheeks. “undone without even moving. that’s the kind of wife you are. you make even the flamboyant god of festivals lose his composure.”

[peachysndcream]

polyurethane | sweet taste, sweet talkin’

this was just a little something to tide me over till the next episode drop. short n’ sweet, but i hope you find it fun anyway! polybros 3some in the works hehe

“You’re so fucking messy, babe…”

One of Polyurethane’s thick, muscular arms wrapped around you, hand resting on your ass, as he shamelessly sucked at your clit. His tongue flicked against your folds, utterly soaked from a mixture of your own slick arousal and Polyurethane’s spit, as you let out a trembling, gasping moan of his name. Polyurethane’s muffled laugh sends delicious vibrations through your core.

“Ure, you—" You can’t help but grind down onto his nose, moaning shakily, keening his name desperately. “So good, baby…”

You should’ve known that when he’d thrown himself at you earlier, a coy little smile playing at his lips, Polyurethane had only lewd intentions in mind for your evening plans. A bout of fierce rain had unceremoniously forced you to cancel your original date night idea of roaming Daten City’s metropolitan district— you know, the one with the glitzy designer boutiques and overpriced city bars? The one where Polyurethane liked to run up his Heaven Express Card on pretty dresses for you and flashy accessories for him?— but Polyurethane was determined to use this down time for something important, in his eyes.

If that important thing was acting on an impulse to try face-sitting, who could blame you for indulging? Polyurethane’s always been dangerously good with his tongue, after all.

“You taste so sweet, babe,” Polyurethane murmurs, detaching from your cunt long enough to spout more sweet words at you. You throw your head back, eyes turning to the ceiling, and Polyurethane gives a harsh, displeased suck on your clit to get your attention snapping back to him. “Ah-ah. Eyes on me, babe.”

You don’t protest his demand, especially as he returns to pleasuring you; waves of wild arousal pulse through you as his ministrations continue, and you can feel his tongue harshly tracing patterns into your core. There’s a rough edge to Polyurethane’s actions, one you’ve always let him know you like— as spoiled and self-interested as he can be, Polyurethane can have an odd inclination towards gentleness. It’s endearing enough— but in times like this, when he’s nose-deep in your pussy and a stallion workhorse at bringing you to your limit, you want him to get as feral as you know he not-so-secretly wants to be.

“Ure— fuck, fuckfuckfuck— ah!” Your moan pitches into something like a shuddering cry as your climax hits you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pleasure as Polyurethane continues to suck and play with your fluttering cunt, the sensations so intense you’re on the verge of overstimulation. All you can do is ride it out— ride him out, as you instinctively grind yourself down against his face. Polyurethane is more than happy to take it, and you can feel the hand on your ass slowly stroke circles and idle zig-zags into your skin.

For the first time in a while, you have the lucidity to detach yourself and look down at Polyurethane. Apart from the downright pornographic image of your slick and cum smeared all over his face, there’s a ridiculously satisfied smile on his pretty pink lips, and a triumphant shine in his azure eyes. “Liked that, didn’t you, pretty girl?” He asks, all easy-mannered and casual as you sigh softly. “Come on. ‘Course you did. After all— nobody can make you feel as good as I can.” 

[peachysndcream]

Helloooo idk if youre taking requests rn so feel free to ignore! ( ￣▽￣)

I loved loved LOVED your wet dream hcs, especially with Riddle. If your up to it, could you expand a bit on that? Like, maybe what happens after he tells you what he dreamt of?

I am always down to write some Riddle smut! Apologies that it’s not super long! I tried to make this gn so non binary, male, and female readers can have some delicious smut soup! Also, THANK YOU ALL FOR 600 FOLLOWERS OMG

“Oh dear, did thoughts of me truly cause this~?” Your teasing voice turned the already flustered boy’s face more red, a mix of shame and arousal clear in his expression. He nodded, slowly gaining the courage to speak,

“I-I apologize (name), I know these thoughts are wrong of me but-“ you cut him off with a gentle smile, caressing his thigh,

“Sweetheart, wet dreams are perfectly normal. Theres no need to be apologetic, now how about we do something about that poor hard cock begging for attention?” His face turned scarlet red at that, all that came out of his mouth was stutters and a soft whine as he watched you take his throbbing cock out of his pants. If anyone were to see him like this, a desperate whiny mess, they’d surely never let him live it down.

And yet, when your lips wrapped around his tip and your hands stroked his shaft, he felt a relief he’d never experienced before. Pleasure was something he did not dare indulge himself in, he found it to be a distraction from time that could be spent studying. But here he was, moaning and whining as your head bobbed gently.

You started out slow, wanting to make sure he was comfortable and knew he was safe. When he gripped your hair gently in his hand, you smiled softly and moved a bit faster. His head dropped and eyes shut as the waves of ecstasy rode through him, hips bucking up a bit to gain more of that sweet sweet feeling. 

With a *pop*, you pulled your lips from his cock yet continued to stroke. He looked confused for a split second before his eyes widened as you removed your clothes. Straddling him, you slowly eased yourself onto his aching cock, it sliding easily into your greedy hole. 

He swore in that moment that he could give over his whole life to you, that he could stay this way forever under you. Digging his nails into your hips to try and stay grounded, his moans got louder and louder, his face burying into your neck as he shook with desperation. He was very quickly nearing his climax and could feel the knot in his stomach tightening with each passing second. 

“Oh my poor boy, you need to cum don’t you? Why don’t you cum for me, hm? Fill my hole up like a good boy, ok?” Your words were like a spell to him, trapping his mind and making him nod in a trance like state. He was determined to please you, determined to be as submissive and obedient as he could to you. 

As his cum flooded your tight hole, he knew he was your little sub now. Yours to control, yours to command, yours to use. As your orgasm hit you, he couldn’t help but be in awe at the sight of your head being thrown back and back arching softly. If this was wrong, he decided in that moment he didn’t ever want to be right again.

Lifting yourself from his cock, you grabbed a nearby towel and gently cleaned him up, taking care to praise him and pepper his cheeks with soft kisses.

“You did so well sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. Now, if you ever have a dream like that again, text me alright? I’ll make sure you don’t have to suffer with a hard cock trapped in your pants all class ever again”

[peachysndcream]

Hi bondage anon here! Do you have any hcs on characters who enjoy pegging? (Sub or dom I honestly enjoy both)

I sense that Seth would enjoy it… hmm I’m not sure why.. 👀

My senses are also telling me Kafka too. She just gives off that vibe

Lowkey tbh I feel like most hsr female characters are straight up doms. Like I can’t see them subbing at all

Hihihihi hiiii my fav anon me and you 🤞 are like this. And I agree with you I cannot see any women in hsr or zzz as a sub (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Sooo here are my own headcanons on who would be into pegging in hsr and zzz! On the side note, this is an nsfw post. Minors, please do not interact thank you (..◜ᴗ◝..) does this count post as Male!reader? Im gonna try to write gn!reader as much as possible for my lesbian girls too no worries ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

This post contains; mention of BDSM, Gun play, mention of blood,

degradation, eye/chest hole fucking (Anaxa), tied up, teasing, prey-hunter, crying, oversimulation

Madam Jade DESTROYS your ass/pussy with her strap. Nothing can convince me that this woman isn't into some crazy BDSM shit. She's the meanest dom you could ever find. But I believe that Jade's aftercare is also very relaxing. İn a tube, with alcohol and bubbles with rose pedals type shit.

As the anon says, Kafka is also into pegging. She's not just a sub at all. She uses her strings to tie your hands behind your back and goes craaaazy. Her strap is big too, and her nails bruise your hips when she holds your hips tight for herself.

Ofc we cannot forget THE manwhore Sampo. I have said in my other post, but again, this man is a follower of AHA, there's no way he ain't into some freaky shit.

Have you guys watched Topaz's character trailer? Have you guys seen how well Sampo raises his ass? yeah... NO WAY this guy didn't get pegged before. He's 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Talking about being 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 and being an AHA follower... Sparkle is also into pegging 100% while holding her gun to your head. Will it go out? Will the blood splash on the walls instead of confetti? That's the thrill of it. (๑>؂•̀๑)

Sparkle is also into roleplay.

I can also see that Caelus would love to get pegged. He's a stupid boyfailuer, and I would LOOOOVE to peg him, hearing him whine and squirm around.

Also, Caelus isn't afraid to make some noise. After all, his room is far from others, so why not let you know you're making him good?

*looks around*... Guys... My favorite underrated man, Gepard, is also into pegging.

Did you guys know that Gepard's are known for being shy animals? especially during mating?.. just saaaaying.

Hehehe, seeing the captain of Silvermane guards on his knees, taking your strap while whining and crying must be a sight to see ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

Alsooo, Aventurine is into pegging as well! cmon, just look at him!

But I won't say that he is into some freaky shit like many people. If youre gonna peg Aventurine, do it gently. He gave you his trust enough if your relationship has come far enough to have sex together.

Aventurine has some heavy sexual trauma, so after you guys are done, make sure to take gooood care of him. Feed him, bathe him both with water and affection. He deserved it.

Anaxa takes it like a good boy!!! He would also let you use your strap on his eyehole and the hole on his chest for experiments.

Anaxa also curses/degrades you while you peg him. He's a bratty sub.

Sunday also likes to get pegged. He won't say it out loud, tho. He likes it soft and vanilla; take your time with him. Prepare him with kisses and all, let him know that you're gonna make him feel good, so Sunday can relax and trust you enough to peg him.

Also, grab Sunday's ear wings while giving him backshots.

Also, Sunday has the prettiest body of them all here, yes, even womens, he has a tiny waist and his back arches peeerfectly to place kisses on his back.

We started the last post with Evelyn, so lets start this one with this post with her again!

Evelyn loooves to peg you and get pegged by Astra

Evelyn's grap on your hips is insaneeeee, nothing slips through her finger.

Evelyn has insaneee hip work. She hits every spot.

And if you tell me that Jane Doe aint into pegging, then gtfo of my page. She uses her attractiveness as a weapon, and she's very good at sex, if not seducing people.

Jane Doe's tail will run over your body as she works her hips on you, her rat ears twitching.

She KNOWS how to tease, so you won't have any trouble taking her strap in.

Lighter gets his ass POUNDED. And his ass is SO FAT it makes me wanna kms. The way his ass jiggles when your hips meet is like he's creating sound waves that cause earthquakes.

Pull Lighter's red scarf from behind as you give him the most delicious backshots.

Now imagine Lighter getiing pegged, his shirt is torn off, her sunglasses fallen from his face as he moans and whines with a red face from embreasment.

Pulchra is also into pegging. She gets pegged by Burnice

Pulchra's predatory instincts go crazy when she's pegging you, meowing and purring as her tail tickles your leg.

Talking about cats... Let's welcome everyone's favorite boy Seeeeeeth ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ He's so cuuuuute. He's a MESS when you're pegging him. Seth wants it rough! Take it as a training, he's a strong cat and a cop that can take everything... or is he? (｡- .•)

Seth's ears go straight up, his tail all around the bed as he grabs the pillow with his strong arms, meowing and his hips moving on their own.

Also, when you are pegging him, make sure to bite the back of his neck cause thats how cats mate, he goes crazzy with his meows.

After all that, Seth goes limp, his tail and ears twitching as sweat soaks the sheets. Make sure to give him to best aftercare, okay? The best catboy deserves the best aftercare (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

[peachysndcream]

❝Locking up the clever one before they die❞

in which, you are married to the love of your life…

ft. Housewardens

The morning sun filtered gently through the lace curtains, painting delicate patterns across the walls of the Rosehearts household. Riddle had risen early, as he always did, his sense of discipline ingrained too deeply to allow for indulgent slumber. Yet, even after years of marriage, he still lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze softening as he watched you nestled beneath the covers. There was something disarming about the way you slept—serene, unguarded, utterly at peace—that stilled the restlessness inside him. He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear before slipping quietly out of bed. The kitchen smelled faintly of chamomile and sugar, a trace of the tea Riddle had brewed the night before. He set about preparing breakfast with methodical precision: perfectly cut fruit slices, a modest arrangement of poached eggs, and two cups of black tea steeped to exact timing. There was comfort in order, in routine, but his movements carried a certain tenderness absent in the strictures of his youth. Where once rules dictated every action, now it was affection that shaped the rhythm of his mornings. By the time you wandered in, still bleary-eyed and wrapped in a robe, Riddle had already plated the meal. He set your dish before you with a quiet flourish, his lips quirking into the smallest of smiles when you muttered a groggy “thank you.” “You really ought to get more sleep,” he said, slipping into his seat across from you. “It isn’t healthy to stay awake so late.” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of your tea. “Says the man who stayed up revising medical texts until midnight.” Riddle’s ears reddened faintly, though he held his composure. “That was different. It was productive work, not mindless distraction.” “Mm. Productive, sure. But equally exhausting.” The exchange was familiar, comfortable. Years ago, such a challenge might have stirred Riddle’s temper, but now it only coaxed a reluctant smile from him. You knew how to soften the sharp edges of his rigidity without diminishing his pride, and he—though he would never admit it aloud—had come to rely on those gentle nudges to remind him that living meant more than adhering to rules. After breakfast, Riddle gathered his things for the day: a neat satchel filled with documents, his gavel carefully polished, and a fresh rose pinned to his lapel. As head of the local legal committee, his responsibilities extended far beyond the college days of Heartslabyul, but he carried them with the same severity. Before leaving, however, he paused at the doorway. “Will you be at the square later?” he asked, adjusting his gloves. “I was thinking of stopping by after errands,” you replied. “Do you want me to bring anything?” “Only yourself.” His voice softened, and he pressed a quick, restrained kiss to your forehead before stepping out. The afternoon passed in its own rhythm until you eventually found yourself at the square, where a small crowd had gathered. Riddle stood at the center, his posture straight, his voice clear as he mediated a local dispute with the authority of one who had been raised for command. Yet, there was a gentleness to him now, a fairness unmarred by the harshness of his past. When his gaze briefly flicked to you among the onlookers, a subtle warmth entered his tone—one only you could discern. Later, when the matter was settled and the crowd dispersed, Riddle walked beside you on the path home. The roses that lined the avenue were in bloom, their fragrance rich in the evening air. He spoke of his work, of the arguments presented and the compromises reached, but his words faltered when you looped your arm through his. “You did well,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. Riddle’s composure cracked just enough to reveal a flicker of boyish pride. “Do you truly think so?” “Of course. You’re remarkable, Riddle.”

For a man who once sought validation only through perfection, your simple assurance meant more than any praise from a crowd. He slowed his steps, drawing you to a pause beneath the arch of climbing roses. With uncharacteristic spontaneity, he leaned in and kissed you—softly, carefully, as though afraid to break the moment. By the time you both returned home, twilight had settled, bathing the house in gentle hues. The rest of the evening unfolded in quiet companionship: the clink of teacups, the turning of pages as you read together, the soft cadence of conversation that required no effort. Riddle, once a boy bound by rules and expectations, now found his truest peace in these unremarkable moments—because they were shared with you. And as he extinguished the last lamp before bed, he turned to you with a rare, unguarded smile. “Goodnight, my love.”

The sun was already high when you finally stirred awake, warmth heavy in the air and the soft weight of an arm draped lazily over your waist. Leona never rose early unless absolutely necessary, and marriage had only deepened his stubborn refusal to greet the day on time. You shifted slightly, but his hold tightened, pulling you back against his chest with a low, half-conscious grumble that vibrated against your shoulder. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep, and you couldn’t help but laugh quietly. Domestic mornings with him always began like this: slow, unhurried, colored by his reluctance to let go of comfort. Eventually you wriggled free enough to sit up, and he cracked one green eye open, watching you with the faintest smirk as though amused that you’d dare escape his grasp. Breakfast was simple, usually thrown together by you, though Leona sometimes deigned to help if coaxed enough; today he lounged in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, offering dry commentary while you worked. He wasn’t the type to shower you in romantic gestures, but his affection was threaded through subtler acts—the way he snagged the sharp knife from your hands before you cut the fruit too clumsily, the way he absentmindedly pressed a kiss to the back of your head before walking away, pretending it was nothing. Later, after the meal was shared and the day stretched before you, Leona made his inevitable suggestion: a nap in the garden. He led you outside to the shaded patch beneath his favorite tree, the air rich with the scent of summer grass, and sprawled out on the blanket as though he owned the entire horizon. When you lay beside him, he slung an arm over his eyes, feigning indifference, but the subtle shift of his hand as it found yours told the truth he would never admit aloud. You talked idly about trivial things—the neighbor’s noisy beasts, a story from your errands in town—while Leona offered his usual blend of sharp wit and half-serious complaints. Yet as the hours passed, his responses grew slower, softer, until silence claimed him entirely and you realized he had drifted into sleep. Watching him then, with sunlight dappled across his face and his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, you were struck by the quiet contradiction of him: a man who carried the weight of resentment and unfulfilled dreams, yet in these simple moments, found something resembling peace. When his grip unconsciously tightened around your hand even in slumber, you understood that this, more than anything else, was his way of saying he loved you—that he didn’t want to face the world, not without you at his side. And as the day faded, golden light washing over both of you, you found yourself grateful for this slow, steady rhythm of life with him, where love was not spoken in grand declarations but lived in the quiet insistence of his presence.

The clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation filled the private dining hall as Azul adjusted his tie for the third time, muttering under his breath about presentation and reputation, though you knew he was really just working off nerves. Hosting these intimate gatherings of business partners had become a routine part of married life, and though Azul commanded the room with practiced confidence, he always sought your presence in the crowd like a sailor seeking a lighthouse. You sat at the table near his left, offering small nods of encouragement when his words grew a touch too fast, subtle reminders that he wasn’t alone in managing the atmosphere. He presented the new menu items from the Lounge, speaking eloquently of flavor profiles and customer satisfaction, his silver tongue weaving promises that made investors lean closer, but beneath the polished exterior you could see the faint sheen of sweat at his temple and the quick glance he cast toward you before finishing each point. When the applause came and glasses were raised in agreement, Azul finally exhaled, relief softening his posture as he sank back beside you. “How did I do?” he whispered, almost sheepishly, while the table’s chatter resumed. You answered by reaching for his hand under the linen, giving it a squeeze that made his lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. The evening carried on with fine food and clever banter, Azul moving smoothly between conversations, yet he always circled back to you, his hand brushing your shoulder in passing, his voice lowering whenever he addressed you directly, as though those moments were more real than the entire performance. After the last guest departed, he let out a groan and slumped into a chair, pulling off his gloves with all the dramatics of a man twice his age. “Utterly exhausting,” he sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder when you joined him. But when you teased him about how flawlessly he carried himself, his expression lit with quiet pride, a boyish glimmer breaking through the businessman’s mask. “Only because you were here,” he admitted, voice barely above a murmur, as though the confession itself were a vulnerability. Cleaning up the aftermath together—folding napkins, gathering plates, putting out the candles—felt almost more intimate than the evening’s polished affair, and by the time the hall was restored, Azul had drawn you close, resting his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. In those quiet minutes, stripped of investors and facades, it was not the successful entrepreneur you saw, but the man who, despite all his cunning, had given you his trust.

Life with Kalim meant there was rarely such a thing as an ordinary day, and this one was no exception. The moment you stepped into the courtyard, you were greeted with a burst of color and laughter, streamers fluttering in the wind and tables laden with food that looked like it could feed a small army. Kalim stood at the center of it all, grinning ear to ear, gesturing animatedly as he explained something to a cluster of household staff who were setting up lanterns in the trees. When he caught sight of you, his entire face lit up, as though the sun itself had just arrived. “You’re here!” he called, practically bounding over to you with such enthusiasm that you had to brace yourself for the impact of his hug. “I was starting to think you’d miss the surprise!” You glanced around at the array of dishes and decorations, a little overwhelmed. “Kalim, what is all this?” “A celebration, of course! It doesn’t need a reason. We’re together, the sky is clear, and the kitchen made way too much baklava this morning, so why not share it with everyone?” he explained, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. That was Kalim’s way—spontaneous, earnest, utterly incapable of keeping joy to himself. Before you could protest, he was dragging you toward the fountain where music was beginning to play, clapping his hands in time with the beat. Servants, guards, and neighbors alike were already gathering, laughter mingling with the melody, and soon the courtyard was alive with movement and cheer. Kalim spun you into the dance with the kind of reckless glee that made your heart lurch, his grip warm and steady even as his steps veered off-beat. He laughed freely, unashamed of mistakes, pulling you along until you were laughing too, breathless but unwilling to let go. His happiness was infectious, a current too strong to resist, sweeping you into its rhythm. When at last the song ended and you stumbled into his chest, Kalim steadied you, cheeks flushed with exertion but eyes shining. “See? Isn’t this better than a boring afternoon?” You shook your head fondly, but there was no denying the truth—his presence had a way of transforming even the most ordinary moments into memories worth treasuring. The feast came next, and Kalim insisted on piling your plate himself, ignoring your protests that it was too much food. “If you don’t finish, that’s fine! I’ll eat the rest,” he said cheerfully, though you knew he would end up coaxing the staff and children nearby into sharing the surplus instead. Between bites he leaned close, chattering about future plans—another trip he wanted to take you on, another recipe he wanted to try, another idea for a celebration that had sprung into his mind just this morning. There was no limit to his dreams, no boundary to his generosity, and while some might have found it exhausting, you had come to cherish that endless well of hope he carried. As the day slipped toward evening, lanterns flickered to life overhead, casting the courtyard in a soft golden glow. Music resumed, gentler now, and Kalim pulled you away from the crowd to the edge of the fountain, where the water shimmered with reflected light. He leaned back on the stone edge, tugging you down beside him, his expression softening into something quieter than the exuberant joy he’d displayed all day.

“I know I go overboard sometimes,” he admitted, his ˀˀ voice more hushed now, “but it’s because I don’t ever want to take this for granted. You, us, this life… I just want every day to be filled with enough happiness to last us forever.” The earnestness in his tone made your chest ache in the best way, and when he slipped his hand into yours, his fingers intertwining, you could feel how much he meant it. Kalim was a man who loved without restraint, who gave without hesitation, who celebrated not because of milestones but simply because he could. And as the laughter and music swirled around you, you realized that this was what married life with him would always be—an endless festival, a world painted brighter by his joy, and a love that asked for nothing except to be shared.

Morning in the Schoenheit household was not something you ever approached casually, not when Vil set the rhythm. He woke with precision, his hand instinctively reaching for yours before he even opened his eyes, a subtle reminder that though perfection might govern his life, love had quietly worked its way into that order. By the time you were fully awake, he was already in front of the mirror, his golden hair cascading over his shoulders as he combed through it with practiced ease, the faint scent of lavender oil lingering in the air. He caught your reflection when you shuffled in, his eyes softening briefly, though his words carried their usual sharpness. “You should hydrate as soon as you wake up. It shows on your skin otherwise.” You rolled your eyes, but you obeyed, taking the glass of water he’d already set aside on the vanity. Married life with Vil meant that small gestures were never thoughtless—they were deliberate, part of a carefully crafted routine, but not devoid of tenderness. Breakfast was light but exquisite, a spread of fruit and yogurt arranged so artfully it could have graced a magazine cover. Vil insisted on sitting across from you, posture perfect, every movement measured. He asked about your sleep, about your plans for the day, his tone attentive but expectant, as though the details of your life mattered enough to be part of his schedule. When you teased him about being overbearing, he only arched a finely sculpted brow, retorting that caring was not overbearing if it was deserved. Later, he invited—no, commanded—you to accompany him to a photo shoot. It wasn’t unusual; Vil believed in weaving you into his world rather than letting you linger on the sidelines. The studio was abuzz with activity, stylists and photographers flitting about like bees around their queen, and Vil moved through it all with effortless authority, acknowledging greetings with a regal nod, correcting details with a glance sharper than words. Yet, when his gaze drifted to where you stood watching, something in his expression softened, and for a fleeting second, he looked less like a star and more like a man simply glad to see you. You found yourself ushered into a chair by one of the stylists during a break, a small conspiracy clearly engineered by Vil. “A little touch-up won’t hurt,” he said smoothly, brushing his fingers along your jaw as though appraising a work of art. He applied a bit of powder himself, ignoring the amused glances of the crew, his focus unwavering. “There. Perfect,” he murmured, though you knew the perfection he spoke of had little to do with cosmetics and everything to do with how he saw you. The shoot itself was dazzling, Vil commanding the camera with an ease born of years of discipline. You watched as he transformed with each pose, each shift of expression, the living embodiment of beauty and control. Yet between shots, he always glanced your way, a silent anchor in the whirl of lights and lenses. When it was over, he dismissed the team with polished gratitude, slipping his hand into yours the moment you stepped outside, away from the gaze of the world. “They’ll always see me as an icon,” he said quietly, as if reading your thoughts, “but you’re the one who sees me as I am.” His grip tightened, as though daring you to ever forget it. Evening brought a slower pace.

At home, Vil shed his public mask with careful ritual—makeup removed, hair brushed out, jewelry tucked neatly away. You found him by the window, the last rays of sunset gilding his features, and he beckoned you closer. He asked about your day again, more softly this time, not as a demand but as an offering of his undivided attention. When you mentioned something trivial—a moment that had frustrated you, a small success you’d achieved—he responded with the gravity of someone who believed every detail of your life deserved recognition. Praise from Vil was not easily given, but when it came, it carried weight. “I hope you realize how capable you are,” he said, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “You underestimate yourself far too often. I will not allow it.” Dinner was an elegant affair, though simpler than the morning’s display, Vil preferring quiet refinement when it was just the two of you. He poured the wine, critiqued the balance of seasoning with his characteristic precision, yet always circled back to you, drawing laughter with his dry wit, coaxing out smiles with compliments phrased as observations. Afterward, you joined him in the sitting room, the two of you nestled together on the velvet settee. He rested his head lightly against yours, scrolling absentmindedly through scripts and contracts, occasionally reading a line aloud and asking for your opinion as though your perspective carried as much weight as that of any professional critic. You teased him about using you as a test audience, but he only smiled faintly, murmuring, “Who else’s opinion would matter more?” The night drew to a close with him guiding you to bed, every step deliberate, every gesture infused with quiet care. As he smoothed the blanket over you, his fingers lingered at your wrist, tracing absent patterns. He leaned close, his voice a whisper meant for no one else. “You ground me. You remind me I am more than my reflection, more than their expectations. Don’t ever forget the power you hold, even if I sometimes fail to say it.” And then, for all his poise and pride, he kissed you with a tenderness that unraveled every polished wall he had ever built, leaving only Vil—the man who loved you fiercely, endlessly, not for how you saw him on the stage of the world, but for how you stayed by his side when the curtains fell.

Married life with Idia was not something anyone else could have imagined clearly—least of all him. He often insisted that he wasn’t built for it, that he was better suited to the glow of monitors and the company of NPCs, not the unpredictable warmth of another person sharing his space. And yet, here you were, weaving yourself so seamlessly into the fabric of his days that even he, with all his anxieties and hesitations, could no longer imagine a version of life without you. A typical day began not with him bounding out of bed like Kalim or gliding to the mirror like Vil, but with him rolling over, hair sparking faintly blue in protest of the sunlight that filtered through the curtains you’d insisted on leaving cracked open. His first words were almost always a groggy complaint—something about the outside world conspiring against him—but his hand still reached for yours under the blanket, clinging even as he muttered about five more minutes. By the time he finally shuffled into the kitchen, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, you already had breakfast started. “You didn’t have to…” he began, trailing off as you placed a mug of coffee in front of him, just the way he liked it. His eyes darted up, his mouth twitching as though caught between a frown and a smile. He never finished that sentence anymore, because you always answered the same way: “I wanted to.” Mornings with him were quiet, filled with the faint whir of computers powering up in his workspace and the occasional burst of laughter when you joined him to watch some ridiculous video online. He liked sharing those with you—things he’d once consumed alone, snickering into the dark at two in the morning. Now, he’d pull you into his chair and rewind a clip just to see your reaction, laughing harder when you laughed, glowing with a kind of pride he didn’t fully know how to articulate. Afternoons were when his “projects” consumed him: coding, designing, tinkering with things you didn’t always understand but admired nonetheless. He always worked hunched, headphones around his neck, muttering strategies to himself. But whenever you appeared with snacks or just a touch to his shoulder, he jolted as though caught doing something embarrassing, only to lean instinctively into your hand a moment later. He never asked for the interruptions, but his eyes followed you as you walked away, as if to make sure you’d come back. The real heart of the day, though, often came in the evenings, when his energy was worn down enough that the walls he so carefully constructed around himself thinned. Tonight was one of those evenings. You found him sprawled across the couch, tablet in hand, some game paused mid-battle. He glanced up as you entered, his hair glowing faintly in the dim light. “I, uh…saved us a spot in the raid,” he said awkwardly, scratching at his neck. “Thought we could, you know, team up. Co-op.” You smiled, sitting beside him, and he immediately shifted to make space, passing you a controller with hands just a little too fidgety. Playing with him had become one of your rituals; it wasn’t about the games themselves, but the way his eyes lit up when you mastered a move he’d taught you, or the way he laughed—open, unrestrained—when the two of you made mistakes and failed spectacularly. To anyone else, these might have been trivial moments, but to Idia they were monumental, proof that someone wanted to share his world instead of dragging him into theirs.

After the game, when the adrenaline faded, came his most vulnerable hours. He leaned against you on the couch, head resting against your shoulder, fingers tangling absently with yours. “You know,” he murmured, voice muffled, “I never thought I’d…do this. The whole marriage thing. Too many variables. Too many ways to screw it up.” His hair dimmed slightly, betraying the rawness of the admission. You tilted his chin until his golden eyes met yours, and though his instinct was to look away, he held your gaze. “But you’re still here,” he continued softly. “Even when I get lost in my own head. Even when I ramble, or…freak out. You don’t bail. I don’t get it, but…I don’t want to lose it either.” It wasn’t flowery, it wasn’t rehearsed, but it was honest—and that honesty was worth more than any carefully crafted speech. You kissed him then, slow and deliberate, and he melted into it with a sigh, as though the tension wound tight in his chest had finally begun to loosen. Later, as the night deepened, you ended up in his workspace again, not because you had to but because he always seemed calmer when you were near. He tapped away at his keyboard, muttering half-thoughts about code, occasionally turning the screen toward you to show off something flashy. He pretended not to care whether you understood, but every time you leaned closer and said, “That’s amazing,” his hair flared brighter, betraying his pride. Eventually, he pushed back from the desk, rubbing his eyes, and you coaxed him away with a hand on his arm. He followed reluctantly at first, but once he was back on the couch with you, tucked beneath a blanket, he curled around you without hesitation, whispering nonsense about future games you could play, ideas for things he wanted to build, dreams he never shared with anyone else. And as his breathing evened out, his hair glowing faintly like a night-light, you realized that this—these quiet, unguarded hours—were the truest expression of love Idia could give. A love that didn’t shout, but whispered. A love that didn’t dazzle, but endured. A love that, despite his fears, had become the safest place he knew.

The castle grounds were hushed, wrapped in the silver embrace of twilight, and the air shimmered faintly with the quiet hum of magic that always seemed to follow Malleus. Married life with him was never ordinary; it was a weaving together of the fantastical and the familiar, where even the simplest routines became touched by wonder. You had long since grown accustomed to the sight of gargoyles bowing their stony heads as you passed, to the way the roses in the garden bloomed brighter in your presence because Malleus willed them to, to the soft weight of the fae’s power that made every shadow breathe. Yet even after years, there were moments that caught you off guard—the curve of his smile when he saw you waiting in the corridor, the way his hand, though cool to the touch, fit yours as if made for it. This evening had begun like many others, with Malleus inviting you to walk with him through the castle grounds after supper. His duties as king often weighed on him, endless councils and audiences that stretched his patience thin, but he shed that mantle the moment you stepped into the gardens together. “The moon is especially bright tonight,” he said softly, his voice carrying that lilting cadence that made even simple words sound sacred. He offered his arm, and when you took it, a quiet warmth unfurled in your chest, the same warmth that always came when you realized how deliberate his gestures were. For all his power, for all his age and majesty, Malleus never took your acceptance for granted. The garden was alive beneath his gaze. Fireflies swirled in lazy spirals, their glow reflecting in his green eyes. The ancient oaks seemed to lean closer, their leaves whispering secrets only he could understand. He spoke of his day, of advisors who tried his patience, of treaties that required his careful hand, but his words softened when you reached up to brush stray hair from his forehead. “You listen as though what I say matters more than any decree,” he murmured, almost in wonder. You laughed gently, replying that it did matter—because it was him, not the king, speaking to you. At that, his smile deepened, and he paused beneath an arch of roses that had not been there the day before. With a flicker of his magic, the buds unfurled all at once, spilling their fragrance into the night air. “Then allow me to give you this,” he said, plucking a single blossom and tucking it into your hair, his fingers lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

The walk continued until the path brought you to the old courtyard where the fountain sang with enchanted water. Malleus guided you to its edge, and with a wave of his hand, the surface of the water shifted into an illusion: constellations, reflected as though the heavens themselves had descended into the basin. “Do you recall when I first showed you this?” he asked, watching your face with quiet intensity. You nodded, remembering well—those early days when he had been uncertain, when his loneliness had been as vast as the sky he loved. Back then, this had been a tentative offering, a way to share the things that gave him solace. Now it was something else entirely: not a plea for understanding, but a gift, freely given. “I feared, once, that my world would be too heavy for you,” he confessed, his voice low, the waterlight painting his features in silver and green. “Yet here you are, seated beside me, unafraid. You do not know what that means to one such as I.” You answered not with words but with a hand reaching for his, fingers twining with his long, elegant ones. He squeezed back, and the fountain’s light flared brighter, as though his magic itself responded to the swell of his heart. Later, when the night deepened, you returned to the castle together. The great hall was empty, its high windows spilling moonlight across the polished floor. Malleus slowed, then turned suddenly, his cloak sweeping as he faced you. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice resonant, carrying that mix of command and plea that was uniquely his. You laughed softly, reminding him there was no music, but he only raised a hand. At once, the air filled with the faint strains of a melody—something haunting and beautiful, woven from his magic itself. He drew you close, one hand steady at your waist, the other holding yours as he guided you across the hall. His movements were graceful, precise, every step echoing centuries of courtly practice, but there was an intimacy now that no audience had ever seen. He leaned down, his forehead brushing yours as he whispered, “Do you know what I dreamed of, before I knew you? I dreamed of silence. Endless nights with no one to share them. But now, when I dream, it is always of this—of your hand in mine, of your laughter echoing in these halls, of the light you bring.” The words made your breath catch, and for a moment, the vastness of his love, ancient and boundless, pressed against you like the weight of the stars. When the music faded, you found yourselves still swaying in place, reluctant to break the spell. Malleus rested his chin atop your head, holding you with a gentleness that belied his strength. “The world has called me many things—prince, king, dragon, monster. But here, with you, I am only a man. That is the greatest gift I have ever received.” His voice trembled, just slightly, and you knew then that beneath all his majesty, he still marveled at the simple miracle of being loved.

The night ended in quiet companionship, the two of you seated before the great hearth as the fire crackled, shadows dancing on the walls. He spoke less now, content to simply exist beside you, his long fingers tracing idle patterns against your palm. When sleep finally tugged at your eyes, he lifted you with ease, carrying you through the echoing corridors to your chamber. As he laid you gently upon the bed, he lingered at your side, his gaze tender, his presence vast and encompassing. “Rest, my beloved,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across your brow. “Tomorrow, and every day after, I will walk beside you. For as long as the stars endure, you will never be alone.” And as your eyes closed, you felt the quiet thrum of his magic, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and protection. Married life with Malleus was not ordinary—it was timeless, ethereal, a love story written across the sky itself.

<333

[peachysndcream]

OBEY ME SIMEON THIRST!

nsfw/suggestive content, male masturbation, slight(?) breeding kink, slight(?) dumbification, idk???

so we know how simeon writes? yeah, i just know that he writes fan fiction about you and him. wether it be wholesome like going on a date up to the celestial realm, or downright dirty like him going down on you while you're whining out. oh how sinful he truly is.

one of simeon's hand is wrapped around his erected cock, the other scribbling down his dirty fantasies - the ones of you. the ones of you beneath him, above him, besides him. all of those filthy thoughts tainted the false innocence he had as an angel. you tainted that innocence. "h-hah~," his head rolled back as his hand picked up pace whilst fucking his fist.

he could imagine you underneath him, in a mating press, fucking you full of his kids.he wants and needs to breed you. who wouldn't want mini versions of you and him running around? he did. and he was sure you would too if he were to actually ask you out.

he could imagine you bent over the desks he writes on, you getting dumb on his cock. him having to tell you: "come on, angel -he thrusts into you again- don't drool all over my papers. i didn't spend a lot of time on those just for you and your filthy whore mouth to drool all over them. look at you, all dumb on my big cock. come on, repent for what you've done - tainting an angel. you're not acting very angel-like now,"

just thinking about that last though had him biting his lip, trying not to let his moans slip out. he switched between rubbing his tip, bucking into his fist or stroking his cock. "[n-name], [n-name], [name], ahhh~" he thought of your hand instead of his own. he had to bite back the moan before it escaped loud enough for everyone in purgatory hall to hear. he came. his cum stained some of the desk, his hand, and the paper he was writing on.

[peachysndcream]

Simeon is focused on making sure you don't bump your head against the open cabinet. He places a hand over its sharp edge as you lean over the counter and rummage through the spice rack. He waits patiently until you've found the ingredient you were looking for before letting go of the door.

The little smile of triumph on your face is incredibly endearing. He turns to watch you carry your prize across the kitchen. There's a painfully loud thunk behind you as the angel himself walks right into the open cabinet door.

[peachysndcream]

✦ sweetest gift

bratty dom!heizou x fem!reader

an. wrote this lil drabble for da bday boy. heh

heizou always had that smirk. the one that said he knew. knew exactly what you were thinking, what you were craving. and tonight — his birthday — he was using it against you.

“didn’t think you’d beg this much,” he laughs, cocky as ever, fingers trailing down your thighs as you whine beneath him. “but you’re just so desperate for me, huh?”

you nod, eyes wide, breath shallow. “please, heizou…”

“mm. say that again.” his voice dips, low and sweet like molasses, and he presses his thumb to your clit, circling slow. not enough.

“please, heizou. i wanna make you feel good—it's your birthday…”

he leans in, lips brushing yours, his eyes glinting. “it is my birthday. so i’m allowed to be selfish, right?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer — just pulls your panties to the side and sinks two fingers inside, slow and deliberate, watching the way your back arches like it’s his favorite show.

“fuck,” you gasp. “heizou—”

“louder,” he snaps, cock twitching against your thigh. “let the neighbors know you’re mine.”

you moan his name again, voice cracking, and that finally gets him to press a kiss to your neck — soft, almost loving.

“you’re so good, baby,” he murmurs, thrusting his fingers faster. “so good for me. my pretty little slut. all mine tonight, yeah?”

you nod frantically, hips rocking against his hand. “all yours—fuck, i’m close—”

“already?” he laughs, pulling his fingers out. “and we haven’t even gotten to the fun part.”

before you can whine, he flips you onto your stomach and swats your ass—hard. the sound echoes, your gasp even louder.

“heizou!”

“what? you like it.” another slap. then a kiss, soft on your lower back.

“look at you,” he breathes, lining up behind you. “already dripping. all for me. fuck, you’re perfect.”

he pushes in slow, groaning as your walls tighten around him. “so fucking tight—every damn time.”

you’re babbling, face pressed into the sheets, drunk off him. “feels so good—heizou, please—”

“that’s it,” he grits, picking up the pace. “such a good girl. taking me so well. you want me to cum in you, don’t you?”

“yes—yes, please, heizou—”

“say it.”

you whimper, head spinning. “want you to cum inside—want you to fill me up—”

“fuck,” he growls, slamming into you harder. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

his hand sneaks down, fingers on your clit again, rubbing fast and messy. you’re gone in seconds, crying out as you clamp around him.

he follows right after, panting against your shoulder, breath hot and ragged.

then, quiet. his hand in yours. soft kisses on your spine. and that damn smirk.

“…best birthday gift ever,” he whispers.

you giggle, sore and satisfied. “i’ll do it again next year.”

heizou grins. “oh no, sweetheart. i’m making this a monthly thing.”

credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!

[peachysndcream]

✦ 5wirl w scene gf 👾

headcanons + chats .ᐟ

cw. explicit sexual content, possessive / jealous behavior, verbal degradation, obsessive attachment / unhealthy dynamics, dubious consent tone

an. this one was requested by @xxxxxxxrawrxxxxxxx — thank u so so much for the request !! i really enjoyed writing this one hehe, hope u guys like it too <33

✦ XIAO

💌 MYSPACE MSG FROM: xxxhaosboi

subj: … u didnt text back. its fine i guess. if ur mad jus say it. if u hate me jus say it. if u miss me jus come over & sit on my bed like u always do. i cleaned the blood off ur fishnets btw. also i think abt the way u sound when ur breathless. a lot. dont ignore this.

he never takes the bracelet off. ever. you gave him a cheap little kandi bracelet w/ black & red beads that says “mine” in glitter letters and he hasn’t taken it off since. you thought he’d hate it. he never mentions it. just stares at it when he misses you. punches walls with it on. fucks you with it still tight around his wrist.

his idea of flirting is staring at you like he’s in pain. xiao doesn’t know how to be normal about you. you walk into the room wearing a miniskirt + fishnets and he just looks away like his entire soul short-circuited. he won’t say anything. he’ll just grab your wrist later and mutter, “don’t wear that in front of anyone else.” (he’ll finger you wearing it two hours later. still won’t speak. just moans into your neck like a warning.)

doesn’t know what to do with his hands unless they’re on you. he’s the type to sit on the edge of the bed, hoodie up, face flushed red, while you straddle him in your torn plaid skirt, chewing your gum like a brat. his hands stay hovering — near your thighs, your waist — until you guide them where you want them. after that, he doesn’t stop touching. almost like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

bites. a lot. he says he doesn’t care about marks. lies. he’ll bite your collarbone just hard enough to bruise and mutter, “mine.” his voice cracks when you bite back. if you scratch him up during sex, he’ll sit in front of the mirror after with his shirt off just staring at the red trails on his chest. silent. dazed. weirdly proud.

fucks like he’s trying not to cry. xiao’s quiet. careful. intense. he makes love like he’s trying not to break something — or like he already has. doesn’t talk much during, but the way he holds you down, the way he groans your name like it physically hurts — it’s everything. when he cums, he goes silent, eyes clenched shut, breathing shaking like he’s holding something back. (you don’t ask. he won’t say. he just buries his face in your neck and holds you tighter than ever.)

💬 MYSPACE CHAT @ 2:11AM

xxxhaosboi: whr r u xxxhaosboi: itz 2am xxxhaosboi: come ovr xxxhaosboi: miss ur thighs xxxhaosboi: miss ur voice xxxhaosboi: miss da way u say my name like ur breaking xxxhaosboi: … xxxhaosboi: im fine btw. xxxhaosboi: u dont hav 2 worry

✦ VENTI

💌 MYSPACE MSG FROM: drunknmelody

subj: i wrote ur name on my dick with sharpie felt inspired then cried then came thinking abt ur voice when ur on top of me anywy pls text back im still outside da bar. the sky looks like ur eyes when ur pissed off. <3

he’s the loudest in the room and the weakest for you. venti is chaos in studded belts — yelling during shows, climbing onto speakers mid-set, stealing sips of vodka from strangers. but the second you walk in, he's immediately locked on you like a dog. gets quieter. follows you like a shadow. bites his lip when you ignore him. he’ll let the world watch him burn if it makes you look.

he’s a slut for validation — especially yours. you call him pretty and he literally preens. he’ll spend an hour redoing his eyeliner after you say it’s “not sharp enough to hurt.” he wants your praise more than he wants air. moans louder when you tell him he sounds good. loses his fucking mind when you call him “my favorite little whore” while tugging his hair.

loves performing with bruises you gave him. venti wears your bite marks like stage props. scratches across his chest? his favorite tank top is low-cut now. bruises on his hips? he shows them off when he changes strings mid-set. gets off on being ruined by you. gets off harder when you watch him from the crowd like you're gonna take him apart again after.

gets hard way too easy. it doesn’t take much. fishnets? a gum pop? you licking a lollipop on purpose while making eye contact? done. he’ll sit next to you, shifting in his seat, pretending like he’s not throbbing in his skinny jeans, while his hand slowly sneaks to your thigh. sometimes he gets so desperate he’ll beg — quietly, breathlessly — for just a taste of you.

cries when he cums sometimes. he doesn't always mean to. it’s just — when you’re on top of him, kissing him too sweet, calling him your muse while his back arches off the mattress and his fingers dig into your thighs — something in him shatters. he’ll laugh it off, wipe his face, say “wow u broke me haha,” but he means it. you ruin him in ways he’ll never write down. not even in his songs.

💬 MYSPACE CHAT @ 12:03AM

drunknmelody: BB drunknmelody: bb im drunk drunknmelody: bb im DRUNK n also in love maybe idk drunknmelody: come spit in my mouth or sing w me drunknmelody: or both drunknmelody: ill write u a song if u sit on my face drunknmelody: nd call it art

✦ KAZUHA

💌 MYSPACE MSG FROM: kissesonkuts

subj: ur name is carved in my ribs i wrote 4 stanzas about the way ur lip gloss smeared on my jaw u kissed me like i was disposable i liked it the bruises u left still ache when i breathe too hard. pls do it again (i miss u) (i miss how u taste when ur mad)

he writes poems about you and hides them in your purse. you’ll find folded scraps of paper tucked into your fishnets or band hoodies with lines like “the moon envies your thighs / the sky bleeds for your kiss.” if you ask, he’ll pretend they’re “just drafts.” but his hands shake when you read them out loud.

goes feral when you call him sweet things during sex. he acts all calm and poetic but he melts when you whisper “my pretty boy” or “my favorite toy.” he’ll literally start rutting into you faster, breath hitching, moaning like it’s too much. the second you say “good boy”? he’s whimpering. losing rhythm. cumming too fast. it’s adorable.

he loves your lip gloss so much it’s practically a kink. he keeps one of your used tubes in his bag and sometimes just smells it when you’re not around. when you straddle him in glitter gloss and call him yours, he gets dizzy. likes it best when you kiss him messy — mouth sticky, spit-slick — so it smears down his jaw.

his hands are always on your thighs. in public? resting just above your ripped fishnets. at home? gripping the backs of them while he fucks up into you, breathing against your chest like it’s his first time again. he treats you like art — kneels for you, worships you — but fucks like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t leave bruises.

aftercare king. like. above and beyond. draws a bath. plays your favorite song. lights a black cherry candle and rubs your thighs with lotion while kissing your knee caps like a simp. tells you you’re beautiful while cleaning you up with his shirt. then curls into you and falls asleep tangled in your fishnet-clad legs like a cat in love.

💬 MYSPACE CHAT @ 11:58PM

kissesonkuts: i saw someone who looked like u today kissesonkuts: i almost threw up kissesonkuts: u still have my hoodie. its ok. keep it. kissesonkuts: it still smells like ur perfume kissesonkuts: i sleep w it pressed against my face like a fucking loser lol kissesonkuts: come over. bring the eyeliner that smudges when i bite ur throat.

✦ HEIZOU

💌 MYSPACE MSG FROM: heizoumoanz

subj: i want u. lik now. bite my lip til it bleeds call me a slut again u make me feel like art n a crime scene all at once come over ill be hard in 3 mins (jk i already am lol)

he knows everything about you. like, everything. memorized your favorite eyeliner brand, your childhood trauma, and the exact pitch you moan at when he hits the right spot with his fingers. he acts casual, but don’t be fooled — he’s obsessed. keeps your selfies in a secret folder labeled evidence. jacks off to them. won’t admit it unless you catch him.

talks so much during sex. filthy. teasing. relentless. “mm, getting wet just from kissing? you are easy, huh?” “who do you belong to, sweetheart? say it louder. make the neighbors know.” makes you beg to cum just because he likes how wrecked your voice sounds. the second you cry? he’s losing his mind. he lives for the mess.

has a thing for catching you off-guard. pulls you into a bathroom stall at shows and fucks you stupid over the sink, palm over your mouth. unzips your hoodie just to suck bruises into your chest before you’ve even said hello. he likes it when you pretend to hate it — when you roll your eyes and call him a menace right before letting him finger you behind a merch booth.

lives for your scene look. your ripped tights? your layered hair? your hot pink skull necklace?? he’s biting his lip every time you walk by. will absolutely offer to “help” fix your lip gloss and end up with your gloss-stained thighs around his head. takes polaroids of you mid-makeup just to jack off later. calls you his decoration of sin. he’s so annoying about it.

he’s a dom but in a bratty, obsessive way. he likes control, but only because he needs it. he’ll pin you down and eat you out like it’s a crime scene, muttering “fuck, look what you do to me” while rutting against the bed. if you ever top him? he short-circuits. gets so red. whines. begs. hates how much he loves it. he’ll swear he’s still in charge after. he's not. you ruined him.

💬 MYSPACE CHAT @ 4:10AM

heizoumoanz: bby i literally cant sleep heizoumoanz: my sheets still smell like ur perfume heizoumoanz: also my dick still hurts from what u did last night heizoumoanz: thank u heizoumoanz: u want head in the band room tmrw or u tryna be good this week heizoumoanz: jk ur never good heizoumoanz: nd i luv u for it <3

✦ SCARA

💌 MYSPACE MSG FROM: scenewhoreabuser

subj: u looked fuckable onstage dont roll ur eyes im serious i wanted to drag u into the greenroom and make u scream over the sound of ur stupid little band u like when im mad. dont lie. u left teeth marks on my shoulder again. i didnt cover them up. i want ppl to ask.

he treats your love like it’s a sickness. he acts like you're a drug he hates being addicted to. says shit like “you’re rotting my brain” while tugging your hair back and kissing you hard enough to bruise. but he needs you — claws at your waist under his oversized hoodie like he’ll die if you let go. you’re the poison in his bloodstream and he’s drinking deep.

hates sharing you. hates it. you so much as smile at someone else and he’s gripping your thigh so hard it bruises. he’ll whisper, “don’t fucking test me” in your ear at parties with that smile that means he’s two seconds from starting a scene. then drags you into a back room and fucks you dumb to prove a point. makes you moan his name until it echoes. makes sure they hear it.

he’s mean. like. mean. chokes you during head just to see your mascara run. calls you his “stupid little bitch” while you whimper under him. but the second you get shaky? he’s cradling your face like you’re made of glass. “hey. look at me. you okay?” he’ll never say sorry, but the way he kisses your hands after? you know he means it.

he’s obsessed with how you taste. he’ll spend literal hours between your thighs, eyes glazed over like he’s in a trance. mutters filthy praise while licking you out like he’s starving. when you pull his hair and cum on his face? he grins. licks his lips. calls it “breakfast.” then spits it back into your mouth just to watch you blush.

he's the kind of guy who bites your neck during arguments. you’ll be yelling at him, mascara smudged, threatening to walk out—and he’ll grab your hips and bite. just enough to hurt. enough to make you gasp. “go on,” he hisses. “leave with my teeth still in you.” you never do. not when he kisses you like he’s trying to ruin you. not when he already has.

💬 MYSPACE CHAT @ 3:06AM

scenewhoreabuser: ur ignoring me again. cute. scenewhoreabuser: who was that guy u hugged after the show scenewhoreabuser: tell him to stop breathing or i will scenewhoreabuser: ur mine. u know that. scenewhoreabuser: come over n prove it. scenewhoreabuser: wear those fishnets i ripped last week scenewhoreabuser: i wanna finish the job

credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!

[peachysndcream]

VENTI X GN!READER || NSFW

So bad news guys, SCHOOL IS STARTING 💔 and that means ur totally fav tumblr writer is gonna get burnt out and never post again for 10 months /j. Anyways im dropping this for u gooners yayy. (I wrote this like last night and forgot to post so sorry if this is booty cheeks 🥺

"ah.. you know, we couldve picked a better spot than- t-this.." he whispered with a shaky voice, soft whimpers slipping past his quivering lips.

Venti was teasing you a bit too much during class, calling you sweet names and giving you cheeky winks during P.E? you were slowly going insane. so you decided to teach the guy a lesson, one that he'll be thinking about for weeks.

this man was letting out the cutest grunts and moans youve ever heard, and honestly, you wanted him to be a little louder with it.

"Hah.. wait i- im close! please- be gentle..!" venti whined as he tugged on your hair, practically begging you to let him have his moment of bliss. i mean, he is you're boyfriend right? have some mercy on the poor thing!

before you could even pull away from his throbbing cock, a slightly louder moan falls from his soft lips, cum spilling into your mouth while the poor boy trembles from pleasure

he hopes this would happen again sometime