#apart from turquoise...

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #7

Dark Blue Kiss ep 2:

I'm Tee Me Too ep 6:

You're My Sky ep 12:

Vice Versa ep 1:

UMG ep 1:

for @twig-tea 💙

+ Bonus: Maybe the brand...in I'm Tee Me Too ep 5

[elektroyu]

thinking about what kind of character portraits would be good for my little project website

while wondering if I'll get to see an aurora today 😶

[luveline]

Shy!reader and post prison Spence - the first time he calls her a pet name? I love that your Spencers always use “honey” or “dove” or “love” and we know she’d be a mess.

P.S. completely agree with how much I love the gentleness of your characters. The way you write Spencer in love is literally my favorite

ty for requesting <3 fem

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

Spencer holds a hanging strap. You hold your own, core tense with the movement of the train. “I think I would’ve mentioned it before you got on the train if it weren’t.” 

You nod, glancing around the traincar at the other passengers. There's a stout lady wearing a large fluffy sweater, turquoise with two white kittens at her chest nuzzling one another in knit. A man with three bags of groceries sits just beside her. Further down, a teenage girl listens to music through leaking headphones, her phone reflecting blue light on her cheeks. 

“But are you sure I won’t be an imposition?” 

“You aren’t usually. I guess we won’t know until we get there.” 

“Maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.” 

“Y/N, I’m kidding. You’re not an imposition, it won’t be a problem. There’s enough room at my apartment for you to stay however long you want. Between all the books, that is.” 

It’s just not something you pictured asking him for. Your kitchen flooded in your apartment and the landlord had to put you up in a hotel until he could get someone in to make sure the stove wasn’t about to explode or catch light. But the idea of a hotel is rough torture —somewhere unfamiliar, living out of a suitcase, surrounded by people you don’t know without a door that locks properly. Spencer caught you sweating over it at your desk, pulling the story from you in reluctant drags with a hand on your shoulder. 

It’ll be okay, he said, you can just stay with me. 

Which is relieving and somehow a new can of worms to deal with. At least at a hotel there was no chance of seeing Spencer in a towel. Spencer seeing you in a towel, in your pyjamas, without your formal office protections. 

The worst part is the excitement. 

Terrified he’ll see it on your face, you stare at your shoes next to his. Spencer… Everyone told you he was a dork. When you joined the team in his absence, not once did you get the impression that the man who’d be coming back was like this. You feel like he’d been infantilised. Which isn’t to say he isn’t a dork, he is, he tells you the strangest things, facts or statistics to accompany each topic of the day, and he has all the manners and chivalry of someone who knows what it’s like to be as painfully shy as you are. But he isn’t shy. 

Autistic, he’d confided once. Probably. I’m better at dealing with it now. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nervous.” 

“I know.” He grasps your arm as the train screeches on tracks, turning a tight bend. You’re grateful, but immediately flushed with heat. 

“I don’t want to embarrass myself.” 

“You couldn’t. I think I know you too well already.”

“You’ve known me for less time than the rest of the team, but you were the first person to offer me a place to stay.” You clench the rickety handle of your suitcase. “Thank you.” 

“That’s okay, angel.” He says it simply and softly, like you really are an angel. Something breathless to wait with. 

Angel, you think, heart skipping a beat, pulse slow and then suddenly ramped. 

His arm slips behind your back. “I don’t want you to stay in a hotel if it’s going to scare you. Besides, it’ll be fun. Like a sleepover.” He laughs. And you, despite your flush, heat sinking across your chest like a bruise, manage to laugh back. “I’ve never had one before.” 

“What?” 

“Never had a sleepover. I didn’t have any friends in school, and I haven’t had a girlfriend stay the night before.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, expecting a retraction. Not that you��re my girlfriend, not that you’re anything like that at all. 

He smiles at you. “Should we get takeout?”

“What were you thinking?” 

“There’s an Indian restaurant between the station and my apartment? We can stop in. Or we can order something to come. Or I can cook, if you want home cooked.” 

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to cook–”

His lips turn to a quizzical pout. “I don’t mind.”

You want him to call you angel again. You want him to take you home, make you dinner, and you want to sleepover. Like a girlfriend, you want to wake up in his bed. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Are you sure?” You nod. “Alright. I was worried you didn’t like the pet name, but your pupils dilated when I said it–”

You can’t escape him. One hand in the hanging strap above, the over on your suitcase handle, you have no choice but to stand there with his arm around you to keep you from falling, face so hot with it that you’re sure you’d be feverish to the touch. “It’s fine,” you say, too afraid to look at his face that you end up staring at the nice shape of his throat, his black and purple tie. “Call me what you want. Um, I think we should get Indian.” 

“Good choice, angel.” 

[cursedyuri]

loser!vi masturbating to ur spring break insta posts <33 this is a repost of a req i received yesterday so if you’ve seen this already no u didn’t! 18+ as always, minors dni!

right now, you’re on a vacation somewhere tropical, spending your spring break on an island with powder-white sand and turquoise waters. vi clicks through your instagram story, past pictures of rum punches and piña coladas, your current beach read, and the spring sunshine glittering on the waterfront. but there’s only one post she keeps replaying: a snapshot of you clad in a tiny bikini that leaves very little to the imagination.

vi’s free hand is shoved beneath her boxers, fingers toying at her clit as she drinks in every detail of you in the photo. she imagines herself pulling your tits free from that pathetically tiny bikini top, closing her lips around your nipples and sucking till you whine her name and scratch pretty pink lines into her back. she imagines how wet you are, cunt flushed pink under your bathing suit’s thong silhouette, and how you’d gasp when she stuffed you full of her fingers. alone in her shitty studio apartment, hundreds of miles away from where you bask in the sunlight on a beach, she fucks herself silly to that photo of you - moans your name when she creams on her own fingers, pussy spasming pathetically.

she wipes her hand on the outside of her boxers, the fabric already crusted over from the last time she’d touched herself to your instagram page. that was, what, twenty minutes ago? she’d gone through your highlights, specifically the one with all your selfies on it - and can you blame her? those pictures of you dolled up for nights out, selfies of you in skimpy outfits, your makeup perfectly applied, tits perfectly perky in a push-up bra. she’d slid three fingers into her wet cunt to the thought of you, a few drinks in, pliant beneath her while her strap splits you open again and again.

the air in her apartment is heavy with the scent of sex and the sweet aroma of weed - she’s smoked a few joints throughout the day, maintaining that hazy high that lingers like a cloud of delirium. maybe she should get up, clean the apartment, start her day properly…

nah. her phone lights up with a notification that you’d posted another story - a mirror selfie in your bikini, your plump lips pursed into a kissy face. and oh, fuck. she’s gotta jerk off again.

[bunnyyyuu]

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

[jawusa]

[4t2] Sixam - Secret Alien World for TS2 ^^

Remember my 4t2 Sixam project I started 2 years ago? Which I almost scrapped but revisited sometime last year? ... well, I've got good news for you then. It's finally out now! ^^

Welcome to Sixam!

Sixam Academy is a prestigious intergalactic university on the planet of Sixam that provides special training for aspiring students to become Birth Queens, Colony Drones, or even the latest innovation in alien technology: Pollination Technicians. The academy offers hands-on experiences, collaborative research, and cultural exploration, alongside interstellar expeditions, nurturing a community focused on curiosity, inclusivity, and innovation.

Yes, I recreated the secret alien world from TS4 for TS2 as a custom university subhood! Why as a university subhood you may ask? Well, I tried to keep the original vibes of Sixam of it being an "unlockable"/visitable place your sims can explore rather than a regular neighborhood your sims can live in!

Well, even after graduation, your sims can actually stay and live in the university subhood using Lamare's YAs can enjoy maternity (and all that) mod, as well as Lamare's Pets at University mod!

While technically it's a university, it could easily also be just a downtown or a main hood, as it includes quite a few urban city-style residential & community lots that a main hood/downtown would also otherwise have… just all in sci-fi/alien theme, of course! ;)

Download: MTS | Simblr.cc | SFS

More info under the cut...

Neighborhood Info:

Requires only Uni/NL/OFB EP and no CC were used to build the lots - I made this without Apartment Life EP, so TS2 Super Collection users can also use it, but in the future, I might also make an alternative version as an actual downtown with apartment lots!

No camera mod is needed, yet, still recommended for easier gameplay, especially since some lots were built on skyscrapers and can be hard to view with just the vanilla camera.

Number of Sims: 90 (10 playable sims in 4 playable families, 31 townies, 44 NPCs, 5 dead sims)

Number of Lots: 35 (7 residential lots, 2 Greek houses, 5 dorms, 1 secret society, 20 community lots, where 8 of which are owned businesses)

Gameplay Info:

Speaking of lots, I made lecture halls for every major, which you could use with beestew's Active Classes mod! These are community lots, featuring skill-building equipment and study spaces, with NPC professors (as lot owners) available for tutoring whenever your sims visit.

I also made an optional custom skybox and custom lighting file for Sixam that will make it always nighttime (Yes, you heard right! The sun never shines here on Sixam!) with subtle seasonal color changes - reddish in Autumn, bluish in Winter, and greenish in Spring.

While the empty version should be CC-free, the inhabited version requires the 3 alien skintones (blue/turquoise/violet) from my [4t2] aliens set to keep the TS4 alien characters like Aileen Rauvu authentic. As giving all these colorful aliens the default green skin instead felt as bad as white-washing, say, giving black characters like Olive Specter a lighter skintone for me. An alternative CC-free version with no CC skintones is also available for players who prefer to not have any CC skintones in their games, though.

I also recreated some characters from TS4, especially all the characters from the The Sims 4 Get to Work: Sul Sul trailer. Every character comes with a complete set of ancestors (at least parents) and customized memories, even townies and NPCs! Some also come with interesting lore! Even though, they're just... townies! Oh, and everyone has genetic infant faces! Yayy! XD

Speaking of characters, scripted events don't work in subhoods, but I wrote a text in each family description that somewhat mimic the scripted event notifications anyway. I think this is a brilliant and fun way of introducing new characters, even in university subhoods. All households should also have a complete set of family album pictures that show their lore a bit. ^^

Recommended Mods:

All notownieregen/antiredudancy/nodormiespawn/nossrespawn mods. All university townies/NPCs in Sixam are aliens.. or at least have a very good reason why they're there, but this can easily be ruined if you don't have these mods installed, lol.

bloodredtoe's Mannequin babies can be born mod. To have more variety, I used the mannequin skintone for some of the alien sims. While this mod isn't required, it's recommended to prevent crashes, especially when these aliens have offspring, as there's a chance they could inherit the mannequin skintone.

Squinge's No Townie Memory Loss. Again, townies and NPCs in this neighborhood are highly customized and I recommend getting no townie amnesia mods to prevent their lore from getting wiped out! As there are a few clues in the bios of some of the townies... including long lost twins!

lingeringwillx's Restore Default Names for Sims in Subneighbohoods . This is especially helpful, not only because the townies/NPCs are related to the playable sims, but also, it will help to maintain the alien atmosphere of Sixam with names like Pollination Technicians, Colony Drones or Birth Queens, etc. instead of having EA's default townie/NPC names.

Install Instructions:

This download consists of 3 parts:

Neighborhood itself:

Place the USXM folder into your PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 University/TSData/Res/NeighborhoodTemplate folder

Note: If you have TS2 UC, it's PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection/University Life/EP1/TSData/Res/NeighborhoodTemplate

Note: If you have TS2 Legacy, it's PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 Legacy/EP1/TSData/Res/NeighborhoodTemplate

2. OPTIONAL: Custom skybox (& 3 new alien skintones):

Place the Sixam CC folder into your DOCUMENTS/EA Games/The Sims 2/Downloads folder

Note: If you have TS2 UC, it's DOCUMENTS/EA Games/The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection/Downloads

Note: If you have TS2 Legacy, it's DOCUMENTS/EA Games/The Sims 2 Legacy/Downloads

3. OPTIONAL: Custom lighting (for enabling 24/7 nights):

Place the sixam_lot.txt file into your PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 Mansion & Garden Stuff/TSData/Res/Lights folder

Note: If you have TS2 UC, it's PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection/Fun with Pets/SP9/TSData/Res/Lights

Note: If you have TS2 Legacy, it's PROGRAM FILES/EA Games/The Sims 2 Legacy/EP9/TSData/Res/Lights

Credits:

To EA for creating Sixam in the first place, even though it was originally created for the wrong game ;)

Makers of SimPE (especially with the newest version, allowing creation of customized NPCs!)

Mootilda for all her amazing tools, especially LotCompressor, LotAdjustor, HoodChecker, and her tutorial on how to create a custom subhood template.

Numenor for his AnyGameStarter, allowing for the creation of a Uni/NL/OFB only environment.

@lowedeus for his original skybox, which I recolored and modified to make the skybox season-friendly, as well as @criquette-was-here for the tutorial on how to make nhood objects glow at night.

Gwenke for the original ocean surface nhood deco, which I also recolored and modified to make it glow at night.

@catherinetcjd for all her inspring builds and also for being such an amazing friend. I recommend her Isosceles Apartments, Experiment 4.2, The Colony as well as her Pyramid Commune No. 9 Live, specifically as optional additional lots for this neighborhood. I learned a lot from you in the past few years of neighborhood and lot building!

Creusa Sims for her support and love while I was creating this neighborhood. It was fun discussing some of the lore in this neighborhood with you. XD

@lordcrumps for also being such an amazing friend! It was you who kept pushing me to actually redo the skybox when I wasn't happy with the draft version, lol! And also for your helpful inputs very early on. ^^

@lamare-sims for being such a talented modder and her amazing mods that make living in university subhoods possible in the first place! This concept wouldn't have otherwise made sense.

That's it for now I guess? I hope you have as much fun with this neighborhood as I had building it! <3

[arminsumi]

. . . 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suguru Geto

From your perspective, you're just two strangers. But you have no idea just how insane it all looks from his side. He's smitten — and a total hypocrite on your lips.

► '... you're my religion, you're how I'm living.'

+ Content: cult leader Geto, dad Geto, non-sorcerer reader

+ Requested by @betonlosingfrogs

+ Author's note: cult leader Geto Suguru may be serious but I like to think he'd just look like a goth dad in the supermarket, buying cereal for his girls

+ wc: 2k

Looking closely at the back of a bright-pink cereal box that his little ones nagged him to buy, Suguru stood slightly hunched over with his dark hair in a sloppy bun.

The stress of his newfound life as a dad showed on his deeply indented eyebags — he looked so severe, so unapproachable, like he would bite you if you stared at him. And yet, many stared. Because underneath the eerie was calm, and in his black eyes there was a hidden tranquility.

"Stay in sight, girls." Suguru warned softly to Mimiko and Nanako, who he saw through his peripherals were bounding about the aisle, "I don't want to lose you two."

Not heeding his warning at all, they went off on their own little ways, drawn to the aisle that you happened to be shopping down. And so within a few minutes, Suguru's usual composure disappeared as he burst into panic.

With quick-paced, long strides of his spider-like legs, he went looking for Mimiko and Nanako, furrowing his brows until two lines formed between them, briefly checking each aisle, pacing back his steps.

He turned abruptly into people, looking down on them in disgust, knocking a few products off shelves with his haphazard path. All the while, his heart thumped in his chest.

And you, leading two little ones by the hand to the cereal aisle, immediately had this feeling that he was their dad.

Still, you asked. "Which one's your dad?"

"That one."

They pointed at a gothic-looking, terrifyingly tall man with a severe expression on his face. He looked so unapproachable that you almost didn't want to walk up to him.

With not much courage, you sheepishly approached Suguru. He turned, his sight landing on his girls, then he darted his black eyes up at you.

"... Sorry, I told them not to wander." he apologized.

Why am I apologizing? Suguru thought to himself.

"No worries." you smiled gently at him. "This is a small store, I'm sure they would have found you by themselves eventually — but they approached me for help."

"Oh." Suguru said with a subtle tone of surprise.

Suguru looked down at his girls and saw how calmly they were holding onto you; like you were their mom. His heart throbbed and he felt inexplicably freaked out.

"Well, I'm glad." he said, surprising himself in every new moment that passed, "Thanks. Girls, let's go."

With that, he abruptly left. Judging by the curl of his lips and the feeling shrouding him, you assumed that he must have not liked talking to people.

. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞,

"Why are you going out?" his girls asked as he put on his cologne.

"... I have a meeting with some very important people." he replied calmly, readying himself to leave.

The girls hurried after him with little steps, "Can we come with?"

"No, no. I want you two to stay here." he said, patting their heads, "And be good; don't eat the cereal, it's meant for breakfast, okay?"

They were clingy as he left. As he descended the gaudy turquoise stairwell of his apartment complex, he thought about you.

You. He had the memory of your face nearly crisp in his mind, the echo of your voice on repeat somewhere in his subconscious.

Trying to blur you out of his mind proved impossible until he was finally behind the closed doors of a meeting.

The meeting of which, had only one purpose; to preach words against non-sorcerers.

Suguru narrowed his eyes and spoke in a deep, reverberating voice to his followers as they all faced him, sat on their knees.

Ego swollen, he left his 'meeting' feeling refreshed, self-assured; until he got three-quarters of the way home, and coincidentally happened upon you; completely helpless and cornered by a slim, toothy curse that you had no hope of escaping without needing to rush to the hospital afterwards. It had already drawn blood from you, Suguru observed.

And the smell of your blood met his nose as he just lingered out of sight, watching you struggle.

Am I really this cruel? He thought to himself. Is it necessary? If I make one exception, doesn't that just make me a hypocrite?

Suguru thought all this, knowing that his mind was already made up.

He hummed to himself, rolled his eyes, stared up at the sky and then walked calmly over to you.

With utter silence in his mind, Suguru lazily exorcised the curse, and ignored your wide-blown, horrified eyes that were now directed at him — who was just a normal stranger to you until now.

He looked down at you for a while, then after a bout of silence, he hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"

And those words were a bigger deal for him to say than for you to hear; you had no idea how hypocritical he was being, how merciful he was being, or how insane the context was.

You gave him an unsure nod, "I think so?"

"Can you stand by yourself?" he asked.

"... it was biting my ankle... " you sounded more and more weary, Suguru noticed every beat change in your voice, every movement of your lips as they spoke each syllable.

In your small and vulnerable state, you kept an apprehensive expression on your face as Suguru leaned down and helped you up, offering his arm; you saw the hint of a tattoo underneath his sleeve, something like a dragon's tail.

"Which ankle?"

"Huh?"

"Where did it bite you?"

His voice had hardened. You showed him where, and he looked at it, the trickle of blood and the bite marks.

I hate you so much, but I'm not that cruel. He thought, his heart thumping harder.

. . . 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞,

"The teeth marks look so cool!" Mimiko commented.

Nanako nudged her sister out of the way, eager to see, but then she frowned, "Can I help you wrap the bandages?" she asked you.

"No, let her be, girls, please." Suguru said, giving you a quick glance.

As soon as they left, he found himself apologizing once more, "Sorry, they haven't been this hyper in a while."

"They're so sweet. So you're a single dad? Where's the missus?" you asked, feeling more at ease.

"There is no missus." he replied stiffly, "It's just me."

"Oh. Now I understand why your eyes look so tired." you said.

He smiled a little, "Yeah, they're a bit of a handful, but I love them."

Confused and somewhat embarrassed, Suguru quickly ironed the smile out of his lips.

"... so there's no missus..." you continued the conversation, "Are you seeing anybody?"

Suguru looked at you, eyes widened, completely taken aback by not only your forwardness but the question itself; why did you want to know? Were you attracted to him? Why were you attracted to him?

"Uh, I'm not in the dating scene." he replied curtly. "It's beneath me."

"Aw, what a terrible attitude you've got..." you teased. "Sorry, sorry."

His heart throbbed, this time not because he was freaked out, or self-loathing, or anything such; he knew exactly what he was starting to feel, so he washed out his feelings quickly.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that I had an attitude."

You smiled flirtatiously at him — now that really threw him off.

Slightly disoriented, he snapped-to when the girls' voices came through the door.

"... Nanako spilled cereal all over the kitchen floor!"

He sighed, held back the smallest of smiles, and straightened out his back like he was suddenly aware of how he could seem more attractive to a woman.

"Excuse me." he said, then left you to help yourself with the bandages.

. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

And Suguru's black eyes lit up brightly when he saw you again at the same grocery store, this time alone.

He told himself that he would only say hi and leave. Yes, just a little hello — that was all that he deemed necessary.

I don't have time to waste. That's what he thought.

His time was money. And he spent it all on you, right there, in the aisle of a grocery store, indulging in fifteen minutes with you.

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty, into twenty-five, and after thirty minutes he finally snapped-to, as if out of a trance — but only because you abruptly said;

"Oh, I've got to go."

"Oh... sorry to take so much of your time." he apologized.

"Not at all, Suguru, I would give you more if I could. Ah... actually," you spoke and he listened, intently, to your tone shift into something more flirty, more sensual;

"Would you like to meet again, tonight? I know a great restaurant — "

" — Yes, absolutely." he agreed without thinking.

All his ideals and beliefs? What are you talking about? He's just a smitten boy.

. . . 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

How rigidly he waited for you, looking around in search of your face with an eagerness that he could no longer effortlessly conceal.

She's late. He thought, lowering his gaze.

But a few minutes after thinking this, he saw your face. In the small seconds before you saw him and approached his table, he fussed over himself; he rubbed his lips together to make sure they looked soft and red, he neatened his hair, he cleared his throat, he straightened his posture.

"Sorry I'm late, the traffic was terrible." you apologized.

Suguru's body language was alive with attraction, "It's okay, I didn't mind waiting." he said.

"I hardly believe that. You look hungry." you teased.

He felt caught, and blinked at you. Did he make it obvious? He was so sure that he controlled his emotions.

"... I'm sure you'll like the food here."

He relaxed, realizing he misunderstood.

. . . 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥�� 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧,

I could be your cult leader. He mused to himself. And you could be my sacrificial virgin.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking of a joke."

"Hm, well I love jokes. Why don't you indulge me?"

"I don't know if I should; I've got a bit of a twisted sense of humor." he feathered.

Your sultry lash-fluttering had his body heating up, feeling restless, feeling on the verge of a small insanity.

This tiny, indescribable insanity that was buried so deep inside him that he could easily ignore it, but he chose not to, and just gave in.

This feeling shadowed his wake as he walked you home, listening to you flirt and giggle next to him was overwhelming him.

All you noticed was that he almost smiled, that he kept taking big sighing breaths like he was steadying himself — his mysteriousness almost annoyed you, which in turn made you feel even more interested in him.

Just as you were wondering to yourself if you got through to him, he gave you a goodbye kiss on the cheek. Too eager to wait for the unpredictable future, you decided to kiss his lips.

He let out a low hum of surprise, but quickly melted, quickly reciprocated and pressed his warm lips on yours. More than that; he leaned into you, let you stroke his cheek, enjoyed every little second.

But Suguru had to exercise extreme control over himself; if he didn't have the discipline of a martial artist, he might have kissed you harder, might have kissed you breathlessly, like a starved, insane romantic.

And maybe he liked seeing the begging look on your face. It made his ego swell, it made him think of things he could never tell you, lest you think something's wrong with him.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" you flirted.

He refrained, cutting out a lot from his response, "Of course I want to..." he almost whispered, looking at your lips.

You smiled and it got him all twisted up inside. "Well, then ask me out on another date, silly."

He hummed, eyeing your lips exclusively now.

"... are you free next Saturday?" he asked slowly.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[anantaru]

dragon neuvillette horn touching…

cw. monsterfucking (dragon), he has scales, horn touching (sensitive horns), size kink/size difference, fem! reader

neuvillette was always exceptionally gentle with your body and how he touched you— more so until you're reduced to utter mindlessness, with tears caking your lashes as he lifts and pulls your hips together.

the undertones of carnal desire a mystical being like the iudex had was visibly showing, with remnants of rough scales decorating the area around his chest and abs— all for your eyes to feast on as he yanks your body against his hips before pushing his weight flat onto your chest, your legs spreading widely apart.

a shriek arises in your throat when he dips his hips back into you, an unholy, flourishing need for pleasure holding you hostage as neuvillette pursued it without mercy— your heart turning into a lump in your throat as the chilling vibrations of each thrust settles on your skin.

aside from that, the strange presence of, well, someone who clearly wasn't human made you wince and twist under his much larger weight. it's making it a whole lot more intimate because you know neuvillette trusted you and had no issue in showing you all of him— like his dazzling, turquoise scales, or his lustrous horns glowing through the shadow of the room and overturning the desire in his eyes.

your body shakes from the penetration of his cock pushing past the muscular ring of your hole when at the same time, you're unable to move from the immediate sensation of being overstimulated as the harshness of his blows thunders on you and parts like waves from your wet sex.

immediately, your hands weave into his hair to hold his body close as you're being surrounded by his muscular chest rubbing across your nipples with his soaked erection mercilessly drilling to the hilt of you, splitting you so deliciously, as well as claiming and striking bursts of electricities along your nerve endings.

you focus on neuvillette's face, particularly when you accidentally brush your fingers around the base of his horns, making him wince out due to the sudden trace catching him off guard— his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed when you do it again.

he likes it, you're certain of that, and the veins on his shaft swell as he fucks your sloppy cunt when you continue to touch his horns and rub your pads into them— becoming entranced by his veins moulding their trace into your walls.

neuvillette squeezes his eyes shut and exhales through his mouth at the feeling you put him through when his hands grip at your hips as he fucks you as quick and sloppy as he can, his domineering aura causing a brutality on your core when loud moans leave your lips on each thrust.

It seems like neuvillette was everywhere, unimaginably hard and hot buried in your cunt while touching all of the soft, secret places and making you twist and writhe in ecstasy— it's wet and messy as well, the noisy squelches coming from your sore hole are absolutely driving him into madness as neuvillette groans into your lips when you tug on his horns, his cock aching and his balls throbbing.

but he won't stop, neither does he want you to stop touching him like that either.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[willowed-wisp]

apocalypse sex [ könig ]

You are in Austria when the zombie apocalypse strikes- you and a pretty blue eyed stranger called König aim to survive together

You didn’t remember how it went down, that crashed feeling piling onto you was all that could be mustered… the excruciating pain which followed.

Left in the street to die. But you weren’t dead, if only in the days to come. The early days of the apocalypse.

Glad to be in a bed, better than the cobblestone streets you’d been dumped on. Vague snippets filtered through, light eyes furrowed with unneeded worry- arms easily cradling you. That’s when slumber betrayed you. Probably whose bed you found yourself in.

Incoherent words spilled from a masculine voice, surprisingly gentle in your ears. Yet, you couldn’t understand what the man was saying, “I don’t understand, I’m sorry…”

“I said, I’m glad you’re awake… you weren’t well.” Not feeling ‘well’ either, but able to move. Though when you did, a hand rested on your shoulder and you met his face… the same kind eyes in your hazed dream. Something so young about a face that had seen too many atrocities. “Why would someone harm British national?” He must have seen your ID, you couldn’t blame him.

You laughed the nerves away, “I was speaking to the wrong guy, apparently…” The man didn’t laugh, not even cracking a smile. You wondered if he actually could look anything but worried on the verge of tears. “I’ll be on my way… I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Everywhere ached but you’d had worse, a police officer by trade in London. That’s why when this mountain of a man blocked your way, you reached for the imaginary gun you had been specially trained to you in unforeseen situations.

“It’s not safe out there,”

“To me, it doesn’t feel safe in here…” That’s only when you noticed the static on the television huddled in the corner. Strange… you were in Vienna, there must have been service. That doomed look on his face told you as much, “How long was I asleep for?”

“A day…”

“And what’s happened in that day?” Peeking out the window, fire consumed some of the city while trash scattered the streets. Ignoring the people walking. “Rioting?”

He shook his head, “A weapon was released… infecting anyone by the bloodstream.” It clicked.

“Zombies?” You sounded much too nonchalant… that’s why you were in Vienna, investigating reports for HQ. You unfortunately rubbed people up the wrong way in Austria. “Fuck… we need to get moving…” He watched you walk across the room, out to the living area of his apartment. It was bare, lifeless as if he was never there on the frequent. “I never asked your name. I’m Y/N.”

You sat on the sofa while he loomed, “They call me ‘König’,”

“Who’s they? You’re friends?”

He looked out of the window. Hung up on one detail. “You’re taking this zombie problem too well, officer…” He was too observant for his own good.

“Who are you, ‘King’?” You were smarter than you looked… he admired that in an adversary.

Something in his eyes toyed with you, a buzz of some kind. “I’m your friend, we’re going to need each other to survive out there…”

That you agreed on.

You laughed in his face, “You really want to finish unsigned paperwork now?”

“I need to get to my work… they have things we’re going to need.”

When you arrived, it was burned to the ground. “König, we need to go.” It had all moved so fast, those first weeks. Luckily both of you able to handle yourselves, what you really needed to were guns… to no avail.

König drove most of the time, the only time he looked at peace. You hadn’t really spoke much, always having your eyes wide open for potential threats. But in the countryside, where very little people inhabited- you could exhale properly for the first time.

Especially when you found a possible refuge. Passing by a lake- you saw an island out in the clear waters and on the tuft of green in the turquoise glimmer, you spotted a cabin. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“A decent nights sleep?” It didn’t take long to find a rowing boat on the dock your side of the lake. Both equally doing your work, loading up any supplies you had acquired on the way. Tinned food, bottles onto of bottle of water. Luckily König was a big guy… and you couldn’t stop watching him in that previous week.

He had saved your life with an axe in the grocery store, it seemed to be his preferred weapon choice. Ever since, you couldn’t stop the wondering.

The settlement looked like a holiday outlet, it was out of the way of civilisation and had its own livestock on the stretch of island behind your viewpoint on ‘mainland’. Cows, chickens… it was there. Luckily you watched your farming programmes…

König did the security sweep of the two story property himself, deeming it clear. “Still has electricity…” He marvelled.

“There’s a wind turbine out back and solar panels on the roof… these guys were ready for an apocalypse…” Head up looking at the haven you had uncovered, not paying mind… crashing into the body beside you. His hands held the back of your head and your the base of your back. In an ode to keep you upright.

He made you feel incredibly small, “Gotta be careful, kleine dame…” You almost blushed at his handsome smile, eyes shining down on you.

That night you sat by the fire, in the cozy cabin. Having eaten soup beforehand… life couldn’t be too bad like that. Huddled under a blanket, too preoccupied staring at the warm lit visage of the man who had saved your life more than once. Before he peered back in you, a lopsided grin on his lips

“Doors locked?” You asked before heading to bed… a nice comfortable bed instead of the inside of that crappy Peugeot you’d picked up along the way.

He hummed a ‘yes’ to you. All power off, all windows boarded up. “The people who lived here had an eye for security systems…” How he knew the code was beyond you but you’re pretty sure he said he’d grown up nearby and fished the lake with his grandfather. You shrugged it off.

Going downstairs you noticed the pictures hanging up, on the second floor landing. A remarkably tall boy stood with his grandparents- catching his first fish… this was König’s place…

You stepped to the room he’d settled in for the night, only to find him dripping wet from a shower. Only in a towel hung around his hips, “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked!” Before darting out of the room… too focused on the rippled flesh of his abdomen rather than the colours of the walls. You checked on the livestock, naming each of them in your head. Getting mixed around every time they moved.

A hand grazed your hip for a split second, “This was your grandparent’s cabin, wasn’t it?” He gave a nod. “And you’re the guy with good tastes in security systems?”

He seemed trapped in his own thoughts, “I knew it was safe here, we’d have everything we needed… and yeah I’m the security guy-,” You didn’t care, hands placed on his scarred forearms- craning your neck up, kissing König. Just a small token of your growing affection. He tasted like sea salt and smelled like ginger and sandalwood. “Damn, you beat me to it…”

A hand pressed against what felt like rock but was in fact his chest, “We’ve got many more of those to come…” Not helping the purr in your voice, sultry to a fault. All completely intentional.

Though, something told you he’d have trouble initiating anything.

You were truly mistaken.

That night, nails dug as fingers wrenched in his growing out dirty blonde hair. Tongue riveted along your folds, watching him work before he flicked the sweet spots you didn’t even know existed. That had your head against the dining table, toes curling on the edge. Fingers added, corkscrewing in and out of your wet pussy had you whimpering. Only able to get part of his name out.

His hands wrapped around your ankles, propping onto his shoulders. Bending your legs so your knees were at your waist, mouth invading deeper. Kissing and marking his territory, careless moans thrown into the void. Curses tossed out, fingers teasing your bud while he devoured.

Tasting yourself on his lips, fucked out already, “This isn’t over, prächtig.” Draping your legs around his hips, holding your ass as his carried you to the bedroom you’d found him half naked.

Walls a dark grey and military decor splattered here and there. Fingers at your chin, kisses twining the two of you. A shared effort to get the t-shirt over those broad shoulders. Hot, bare flesh under your fingertips. Muttering a swear, open-mouthed adoration consuming you. Tracing along rough and ready skin, he keened away, “Sensitive? How ‘bout here?” A palm at his denim, you witnessed König melt. Caging you in under him, never breaking contact.

Thick fingers teased- delving at a slow pace - curling at that sensitive patch inside. Breathless gasps coming from you in ebbs and flows, “Be loud, schatz…”

“Still so shy, even after making me come on your tongue…” Caressing his soft cheek, eye contact broken. Clenched down only for him to pick up the slack- feeling yourself gush with a wail. Grasp on his forearm tightening, your face pitifully scrunched up. Mouth carved to an ‘o’.

König’s warmth gone as he stood, tall and domineering. Unbuckling his belt, though you could see the outline in the blue fabric before. White underwear, black elastic at the top. Subdued but in tune to your surroundings, your eyes wide. His height corresponding at the thick, lengthy outline. Scarred hand giving it a rub, looking down at the mess in between your legs… the pool on the already dark covers. “Fucking hell…” It slapped across the trail of dark hair down the lower half of his stomach. V-line encasing the well defined cock in front of you.

How was it ever going to get inside you? You hadn’t had sex in a while, and this was the thing that would prize you open. You salivated thinking about it. His weight dipped against yours, seating between your legs. “Don’t look so scared, Y/N,” A thumb against your bottom lip, claiming both once again. Laying you down, the same thumb rubbing your face. “I’m going to go slow…” Resting on his knees, you couldn’t help but touch the thickness. He huffed so sweet at whatever touch you gave him.

Lifting your hips up with one of the pillows, legs stretched to fit his hips. Cold air hitting your bare parts, his legs filled the chill. You didn’t look, as his tip sank in. A sharpness turned into pleasure as the rest of him burrowed inside of you. Hands stapled to his neck- look at every twitch in König’s features. A loud groan from him, “Scheiße…” All that more attracted to him from that angle, incoherently in a void between dizziness and suffocation. Fleshy walls swollen around his girth. “I don’t think I can control myself, schatz…”

Your mind delirious and vision like a kaleidoscope, “Give it to me…”

König struggled to move, which made his movements more erratic. Hands everywhere on him, maiming him any time he bucked. Movements not rough but pent up.

Wriggling too much, his hands clamped down on your raised hips while ploughing you. Lifting your ass off the bed, fucking into you. Slaps of skin and strained choruses of teeth gritted screams was all that could be heard. Discomfort outmatched by carnal tears… He knew when you came- each time you did. Pulsing around him, almost pushing him out. That’s why he ground so deeply. And that’s when he’s name came out in a squeal.

Before his body buckled, hilted in you. Holding your wrists down, all while you milked him dry. So right, so soft… all his from now on. This giant of a man inside of you.

What a way to spend the zombie apocalypse…

————

Thanks for reading :)

————

masterlist

[unhinged-bratty-boy]

Dabi - sad headcanons

This is my first time writing anything, be gentle with me 🙏🏻

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a bored glance while killing time in the a convenience store as he waited for his contact to show. But then you walked in.

At first, he didn’t think much of it - just another face in the endless sea of strangers. But something about you made him pause. The way you casually brushed hair from your face while scanning shelves, the soft hum of a song under your breath, completely unaware of the world around you. You were normal. Unshattered. Alive.

His sharp, turquoise eyes narrowed, lingering longer than they should’ve. He blamed it on curiosity. Something about you felt warm in a way he hadn’t experienced in years - like standing too close to a hearth after a lifetime of cold. It made him uncomfortable. Made him angry.

He should’ve walked away. He didn’t.

Dabi followed you out of the store without even realizing it. At first, it was instinct - silent footsteps slipping through the dark alleys like a shadow as he followed. He told himself he just wanted to see where you lived. Just a quick glance, nothing more.

This one time turned into a shady routine for him. He had to know more.

Within days, he knew your routine - when you left for work, when you returned, where you shopped. He mapped out the weakest points of your flat with practiced efficiency - windows that didn’t lock quite right, a back door that stuck if you didn’t shove it hard enough. Old habits. Necessary. Just in case.

At night, he watched the soft glow of your apartment lights from across the street, imagining what your life must be like on the inside. Warm, ordinary, safe. He hated how much he wanted it.

One day, when he saw you struggling with heavy grocery bags, the opportunity was too perfect to pass up. He shoved his hands deep into his material pants pockets, masking the nervous twitch of his fingers.

"Need a hand?" His voice was rough, casual - but there was something too sharp in his gaze, too focused.

You hesitated for just a moment before offering a grateful smile that hit him like a punch to the chest.

"Thank you! These bags are killing me."

He took them without another word, pretending the weight didn’t bother him. He could feel your eyes on him, curious, a little suspicious but not wary - not yet.

As you walked together, you talked - about nothing, really. The weather, the annoying store line, small, inconsequential things. But every word out of your mouth felt like oxygen to a man used to suffocating.

When you unlocked your door and turned back to him, smiling that same soft, trusting smile, he swore he felt his ruined heart stutter.

"Thanks again... um...?" you prompted, clearly expecting a name.

For a split second, he considered giving his real name - Touya - but killed the thought immediately. Too dangerous. Too personal.

"Dabi," he said instead, voice low, almost daring you to question it.

"Weird name," you said playfully, completely unfazed. How sweet you didn't recognise his villain name. "But thanks, Dabi. I really appreciate it."

Dabi always got what he wanted. He was ruthless, cunning, relentless. He should’ve burned this weakness out of himself the moment he realized what was happening. But he couldn't. He wanted you. All of you. And he was about to make you his.

This was how you two started seeing each other.

Dabi never calls your flat a home. The word sticks in his throat like ash. Home was burned away years ago, leaving only the cold, empty shell of survival. The apartment he crushes in from time to time is just a place where he exists, not where he belongs.

He lives in your home like a visitor overstaying his welcome. His clothes stay packed in a small, battered duffel bag shoved under the bed. “It’s just easier this way,” he mutters when you ask why he never uses the closet.

No matter how much he scrubs his skin, the faint scent of burning flesh never fades. He can see you notice but pretends he doesn’t. It makes him feel disgusted with his own self. It makes him feel guilty because you deserve much better. When you light scented candles or spray room freshener, he flinches inwardly, convinced you’re trying to mask the stench of him.

Every time he touches you, it feels like a silent goodbye. His hands are scarred and trembling, his grip tight like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. When he holds you, it’s never soft - it’s desperate, bruising, clinging. He needs the reminder that you’re real, that he’s still here, that he hasn’t burned you away yet.

He doesn’t say “I love you” because he thinks it’s a lie. People like him can’t love - not properly. Not in ways that don’t hurt. But sometimes, late at night when he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll trace your features with the lightest touch, memorizing every line like he’s carving you into his memory - for when you’re gone.

He expects you to leave. He knows you will, eventually. Everyone does. He can’t stop his sharp tongue or bitter jabs when he feels too close - it’s his defense mechanism. If you get too close, you might see him for what he really is - broken, twisted, beyond saving. Better that you leave on your terms than pity him.

Dabi barely sleeps. On good nights, he dozes fitfully beside you, waking at every small noise like he’s still being hunted. On bad nights, he sits by the window until dawn, smoking one cigarette after another, eyes fixed on your soft, relaxed features as you're deep in your slumber.

Late at night, when the world is still, you often find him standing at the window, his eyes tired, staring into the endless dark. His cigarette burns low between scarred fingers, ash scattering unnoticed, staining your floor. "Touya, come back to bed," you ask, improving your silky nightgown around yourself. He doesn’t turn around. His voice is rough, distant, "Tsk. Don't call me Touya. He is long dead."

On his worst days, he believes he deserves the pain. He’ll disappear without a word, returning with fresh burns hidden beneath his sleeves, the acrid smell of charred skin lingering around him. You know better than to ask where he’s been - his hollow eyes tell you everything you need to know.

Dabi doesn’t believe in a future - not for himself. The idea of living a long, peaceful life feels like a cruel joke. He talks about “when” he has to leave, never “if.” He’s already made peace with the fact that whatever this is - you and him - won’t last. Nothing ever does.

He keeps insignificant things - crumbled notes you left on the fridge, your old scarf that still smells faintly of your perfume, a broken hairclip. He stashes them in a small, dented box under his bed in the LOV hideout. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he pulls the box out and runs his fingers over the keepsakes, pretending, for a few minutes, that he’s someone worth remembering.

When you fight, Dabi lashes out like a wounded animal, sharp and cruel. His words are designed to hurt because he expects you to leave anyway - better to make you hate him than to watch you drift away. But afterward, he’s consumed by guilt, curling into himself like a burned-out ember.

He can’t say sorry - not with words at least. But after a fight, you’ll find your favorite snacks mysteriously restocked, the blanket you love folded neatly on the couch, a worn apology scrawled on a crumpled scrap of paper left where you can find it. He’s trying - in the only ways he knows how.

Dabi isn’t someone meant for love - but God, how he wants it. He knows he’ll never deserve you, that this life he’s stumbled into is a borrowed dream destined to shatter. But for now - for however long this fragile, imperfect thing lasts - he’ll hold on with both hands, knowing that in the end, he’ll be the one left burning.

[fawnindawn]

Jason Todd smells like gunpowder, leather and old books. He’s always donning a leather jacket, the same one regardless of how worn out it is. It’s become soft due to the material stretching over his muscles, and it looks almost too small on him with the way the cuffs grip at his wrists. Refuses to get a new one, abandonment issues run strong even with non-animate objects. Has favourites when it comes to guns. Pats them occasionally, strapped beneath his jacket or on his thigh in habit. Names them and gives them a kiss after a mission well done. Ridiculously hot in combat, only cause he likes to show off. Swings his guns just for the flare. You think he’d be less of a threat without them. He just gets worse. Fist fighting with him is your worst nightmare because he enjoys the sound of bone-breaking from pure strength. Bandages over his knuckles always. Never heals with how often he gets into brawls. Large, veiny hands, scar-filled. Huge biceps. Thick neck. Even thicker thighs. He’s just huge. Getting pinned by him means it’s game over. Yet, somehow you never hear him approach till he wants you to. Black, tousled hair that casts shadows over his eyes. Turquoise eyes turned green from the Lazarus Pit. They have this unnatural glow, evident in the dark. Always running from place to place, cause he can’t stand coming back to an empty apartment. Adrenaline junkie. On the rare occasion he’s not plotting something to piss off Bruce, or crushing gang ops, he can be caught in a second-hand bookstore flipping through classic literature. Earphones plugged in with either rap or jazz, no in-between, he’s delicate with books as he flips through the pages. A startling contrast to any Gotham citizen, peering in and seeing a gym hunk hoarding the narrow space between bookcases, holding a miniature sized novel by Jane Austen.

[robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap]

Xiao & Wanderer Anatomy headcannons

Warnings; non-human anatomy, minor body horror (?), NSFW

Xiao ♡

Do not let an adepti's humanistic appearance fool you; They are built completely differently to humans.

On the outside, an adepti can make themselves look relatively human if they so choose. Though they're not hard to spot due to their unnaturally beautiful appearance and intricately made outfits.

If one looked at Xiao hard enough, they'd definitely start to notice his non-human features -- For example; his pointed ears, teeth and nails.

Upon closer inspection, they'd notice his sharp, cat-like irises and lack of pores on his skin. His completion is completely clear of imperfections -- a sign of his above-human nature.

If one removed Xiao's clothing; that's where they'd notice the difference. Adepti do not have nipples or belly buttons -- they have no need for either.

Xiao, of course, knew what they were. He'd been around for a very long time and had observed humans throughout the years -- both clothed and unclothed. He never found them particularly attractive; until you came along.

Xiao finds himself enjoying suckling on your nipples, rubbing and tweaking them between his fingers. He finds them infinitely more exciting than his own flat, bare pectorals.

He does, however, enjoy when you mouth at his chest. He gets an almost phantom feeling of you suckling on his nipples. Nothing makes him wetter.

Another difference in his anatomy is what lies between his legs.

Adepti are not bound by gender and are ever-changing in their forms to suit their needs.

Xiao cares little for human societal norms and finds them rather confusing. Most humans he comes across instinctively refer to him as a male -- which he doesn't particularly mind. But he is also not completely sure what it is about himself that causes them to assume that's what he is. Perhaps it is his voice? His flat chest? He has seen human males naked and knows that what is between his legs is much more similar to that of a human female.

Xiaos form - the one he was 'born' into - is that of a bird. He takes on many traits and behaviours of a bird; such as nesting and collecting trinkets he finds on his travels.

Many millennia ago, Xiao once had great turquoise wings. They were magnificent. Large and powerful. Unfortunately, they were taken by his old master and he still bares the scars on his back from them to this day. They ache and pain him from time to time.

Xiao is particularly protective of his nest. He spent many years crafting it, using only his best materials for it. Being invited into it is a great honor only bestowed to his closest friends (Zhongli) and you - his mate.

Wanderer ♡

The Wanderer was a puppet built by the electro-archon herself. Crafted with care by skillful hands. Only to be discarded in the end.

Wanderer's body was sculpted in the image of the electro archon. Infused with ancient technology and pure elemental power. Despite all this, he is built much like a human.

Wanderers' body is pristine and perfect. He bares not a single scar or blemish. His skin is cold to the touch and he has a much higher tolerance to the temperatures; though he seemingly is able to taste things to a much higher degree than a human can, making him overwhelmed by strong flavours - causing him to prefer things with a subtle taste, such as tea.

Wanderers body had gona through many changes over his years at the fatui. He'd been taken apart and put back together. His parts broken and replaced.

Contrary to the belief of many. Wanderer did feel. He had the same amount of feeling as a human would; perhaps even more. He felt both pleasure and pain the same. Though he was much more used to the feeling of pain.

Wanderer finds himself enjoying the feeling of being held and touched with gentleness. He is so used to being treated roughly by most because they know they can just piece him back together; he enjoys the feeling of being fragile. It makes him feel like he is important and cherished by you.

Do not mistake this as a weakness though. It took him a very long time to appreciate your touch and the pleasure that comes with it. He may act like he doesn't care for it in front of most, but he is always in some sort of physical contact with you; whether it be brushing up against you, feet touching under the table or simply placing his hand over yours when nobody's looking.

Wanderer is beautiful and he knows it. Throughout the years his beauty has deceived people into thinking he was weak. How wrong they were.

Back in his 'youth'. When he had longer hair - he found himself frequently referred to as a woman. Not that he particularly cared. Humans were fickle creatures and he thought their obsession with labeling each other was foolish. Gods were above such things; as was Wanderer.

Nowadays, Wanderer finds himself to be referred to as a man. He finds that with the title of being a male; people are more likely to take him seriously. He can't say he completely understands why either and finds it odd as he has experienced life living as both.

He noticed the change in pronouns once he'd decided to cut his hair short. He didn't understand why his hair was the deciding factor for people when they determined whether or not he was a male or female. Wanderer knew the difference in anatomy between human male and females. Human males had a flat chest an extra appendage, which he did not himself have and human females had larger breasts and a slit between their legs. If wanderer were to categorise himself, he'd probably say he fits into both - but he's not going to do that because he does not care enough to.

During his time with the fatui, the doctor had done many unnecessary experiments on him. One included giving him a penis. Dottore claimed it was what 'men' had and since he's fronting as a man, he should have one. Wanderer disagreed. After experiencing having a penis for himself, he quickly decided it was inconvenient and that whatever he had in his pants didn't define him. He's a god after all. Not long after he was given back his rightful genitals that were taken from him.

While the wanderer's body is pristine and modelled in the likeness of a human, some areas are a dead giveaway that he is not human. Wanderer's back is rarely seen, always covered in the thick material of his clothes. That is because they hide his most sensitive areas beneath them - his access points.

Along Wanderer's back are connection points for tubes and power sources. While Wander doesn't need to be powered manually anymore with the help of his visions elemental power, he still has the ports that were once used to power him. There are 4 small ports on his back and 1 on the back of his neck. His neck is by far his most sensitive place with it also being the area he bares his electro sigil. He comes undone at the lightest touches of them. They are by far one of your favourite things about him - teasingly circling the holes on his back with your finger is one of your favourite things to. A way to get him instantly worked up.

Wrote this after i took my painkillers so i hope this makes sense. Lmk if anyone wants any scenarios involving these headcannons.

Enjoy.

[dollfacefantasy]

little drabble while i go back and forth between longer fics <3

jason todd x reader

Brown leather comes up over charcoal kevlar when Jason pulls his jacket into place. He shrugs it on before bending over and adjusting the kick pads fastened to his boots. You watch from your seat on the edge of the bed. You watch your lover conceal himself piece by piece. The tight fabric molds over his scarred body like a second skin.

You chew the inside of your cheek as a way of dealing with your frayed nerves. This feeling was becoming a constant in your life. Every night he went out, every morning he came back bloody and bruised. It was getting to the point where being calm brought on anxiety because it didn't feel right.

Swallowing hard, your eyes stay locked onto him as he goes through his routine. When he turns around, his gaze lands on you. In an instant, he knows something's wrong. He'd only been back for a little while but dying hadn't stripped him of his talent for reading your emotions.

"What's the matter, doll?" he asks.

You shake your head and shrug, trying to communicate that it was nothing without saying it was nothing. Because it was something and your voice would betray that with one syllable.

He seems to understand regardless and approaches you. His hand finds its place under your chin and guides your face upwards to look at him.

"C'mon, you know you can tell me anything," he says softly.

"I just… I don't want you to go," you say, the words coming out close to a whisper, "I hate that you still go out there every night. I just got you back. I don't wanna lose you again."

His expression grows more tender. He sits on the bed next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Oh baby…" he coos.

You're engulfed by his frame. It seemed even bigger since he came back. Your head sinks to its preferred spot on his shoulder against his neck while his palm sweeps up and down your back. These little techniques to soothe you had become apart of a routine performed as often as him getting ready. It never led to him actually staying home though. The lust for revenge that coursed through his veins was practically coded into his dna. He'd still head out as soon as your emotions had settled, but he never passed up a chance to take care of you.

"You're not gonna lose me again, sweetheart. No way," he whispers and kisses your temple. His large body sways back and forth a bit with you in his lap. "I would never let that happen. No one's taking me away from you. I'll be out for a little while, but you know I'll come back in the morning."

You nod reluctantly and run an exhausted hand over your face.

"That's right," he murmurs before landing another kiss, "I'll be back before you wake. You'll fall asleep and then when you open your eyes I'll be there waiting for you."

You nod again and slide your arms around him to give one last lingering hug. He returns it, his grip much tighter than yours. A final kiss later, and he's up. You're placed on the mattress before he crosses the apartment and grabs the remaining piece of his persona. The sleek red of his helmet replaces the shaggy black hair you love so much. The vacant white of the mask covers the pools of turquoise in his eyes.

"Love you, baby," he says in parting before heading out the window into the night.

[reveryfics]

Late Night

Pairings: Eddie Brock & Venom x Male reader

Summary: Having just gotten out of the shower, you're met with Eddie and Venom both of which have more exciting plans then your moping around.

A/n: redoing this aesthetic on this post and some others. As always thanks for the likes and enjoy!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A young male steps out of his clothes, his bare feet sending chills across the cold floor. He grabs a towel from the rack hanging crookedly on the back of the door, its threadbare surface rough against his skin. He turns on the water, wincing as a rusty groan echoes through the pipes before a sputtering spray erupts from the showerhead.

He waits, counting silently under his breath as the water heats up. The minutes tick by, each one stretching into an eternity of anticipation. Finally, the scalding water begins to mingle with the cold, sending wisps of steam curling around the chipped porcelain walls.

He steps into the shower, letting out a sigh of relief as the hot water cascades over his tense muscles. He lathers up with cheap soap, the acrid scent filling the small space. He scrubs away the grime of the day, the memory of his dead-end job, and the gnawing hunger in his stomach momentarily forgotten under the soothing torrent.

As the hot water washes over him, the male allows himself to close his eyes. He pictures himself somewhere else, someplace far removed from this dingy apartment and life filled with supernatural beings. He imagines a pristine beach, the turquoise water lapping at his toes, the warm sun drying his skin. He breathes in the scent of salt and seaweed, the sound of crashing waves washing away the city's din.

But the dream is fleeting. The scalding water begins to cool, and the harsh reality of his situation seeps back in. He opens his eyes to the peeling paint and cracked tiles, the chipped shower head spewing its meager spray.

He finishes his shower quickly, the cold air sending goosebumps prickling across his skin. He steps out, wrapping himself in the scratchy towel. He looks at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, seeing not the sun-kissed tan of his daydream, but a skinny kid with tired eyes and haunted shadows under his cheekbones. He sighs, a gust of steam swirling around him like a fleeting wisp of hope. He knows he needs more than a hot shower to escape his reality. But for now, it's enough. It's a small victory, a stolen moment of warmth in the cold grip of his circumstances.

There was a tense silence throughout the bathroom, broken only by the dripping water from the showerhead and throaty cough coming from behind the young male. The male's tired eyes peered at the man from the mirror, a low groan escaped past his slightly parted lips as he hung his head low. A pair of hands gripped his hips, the towel slowly slipping off his waist and onto the bathroom floor. The once scratchy feeling now replaced by the feeling of soft fabric against his bare skin.

Their eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror, both worn and tired from the day. The older male's hands slid up the others back, slowly massaging up and down his spine, shoulder blades, and neck. “You seem tense.” He whispered softly.

A soft chuckle sounded from the younger male, his body slightly relaxing against the other's soft touch. His muscles slowly unwound against every small and deliberate touch against his achy body. “Tell me about it.” He huffed, pressing his body against his partners.

There was a silence between the two for a moment, only for it to be broken by a quiet gasp as black tendrils wrapped around the young male's body.

The two guided him towards the bedroom, their hands cupping his face as Eddie gently pressed his lips against his partner's. Eddie's lips were soft, something he'd grown to love about the man. His own hand found its way around the back of Eddie's neck, pulling him in closer.

Eddie led him back and towards the bed, breaking the kiss when the two needed to breath before pressing back up against them quickly. The gentle kiss turned heated as Eddie sat against the bed, his partner straddling him. Eddie's hands now rested against his shoulders, while Venom still held into his waist.

The male pulled away, a small gasp falling from his lips as Venom's long tongue slowly trailed over his neck. The symbiote left out a low grumble, his tongue passing over each and every sweet spot he could find. His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of Eddie and Venom kissing his exposed skin.

Eddie's hands gripped the soft skin of his partner's ass, earning a low groan from the male. He could feel Eddie's cock twitching in his pants, rubbing against his own exposed and growing erection.

The male pushed Eddie back against the bed, making quick work in removing his hoodie and shirt. Eddi hissed at the feeling of his partner's cold hands against his exposed chest and abdomen.

“Enjoying this aren't you?” He hummed, slowly grinding against Eddie's lap.

“You have no idea.” Eddie's voice mixed with Venom's, as the two groaned in response to the pressure.

His hands continued down Eddie's chest, stopping just above his sweatpants as he slowly came to stand in front of him. The brunette groaned as his undergarments were tossed aside, and the cold air of the apartment nipped at his erect cock.

He got on his knees, hands holding Eddie's hips down against the bed. His tongue ran underneath his cock, lapping up the beads of precum that leaked down his shaft. He continued, only stopping when Eddie's cock began to twitch and spasm against his lips and tongue.

Eddie pulled him up, his hands cupping his face as he leaned in to kiss him gently. He sighed against Eddie's lips, moving onto his lap like he had been before.

“Relax.” He hummed, pushing Eddie back against the bed.

The male slowly sunk down onto Eddie's cock, his head shooting back in pure pleasure. He let out a strangled moan as the brunette bottomed out, his cock twitching and pulsating inside his partner.

Eddie's hands found their way to his partner's hips, gripping them harshly. Venom's long tendrils wrapped around the male's cock, slowly jerking him in time with the steady pace of him bouncing against Eddie.

The two became a panting mess, strings of moans falling from their lips as their pace only quickened. Eddie pulling out only to slam back into his partner as Venom continued to jerk him off.

“Fu-fuck..” He moaned, his own cock twitching and leaking precum as Eddie slammed into his prostate.

A particularly hard thrust left him gasping for air as he choked on his own whines and moans, and caused him to clench around Eddie. As he continued for a second time, then a third, and finally a fourth, his partner came across his chest spasming in Venom's grasp. Eddie came not long after, burying himself deep inside as he rode out his orgasm.

Neither moved for a while, basking in the initial moments of their orgasm before Eddie slowly pulled out. He whined, collapsing in the bed beside Eddie and the symbiote, his chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath.

“You owe me a good bath.”

“Whatever you say.”

[jellyfishsthings]

Spa Days

navigation , dc navigation

WARNINGS: none really, just funny banter

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

inspired from this fic by @yeoniverseee

Jason Todd, the brooding, gun-toting vigilante known as the Red Hood, isn't exactly the first person you'd picture slathered in a cucumber face mask. Yet, here we are, face-deep in a concoction of avocado and honey, with a fluffy pink headband perched precariously on his dark hair. This is your spa day, a rare moment of domestic bliss carved out from the chaos of Gotham, and honestly, it's been surprisingly…relaxing.

"Seriously? This is what you're doing?" Jason grumbled, his voice echoing in the vast cavern. He surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes: a blanket spread on the floor, laden with an arsenal of brightly colored nail polishes, facemasks that looked suspiciously like something Frankenstein's monster would wear, fluffy headbands, and a bowl of steaming water infused with essential oils that smelled suspiciously like lavender.

Jason scoffed. "De-stressing involves firing rounds at targets, not... whatever this is."

"Humor me," You pleaded, employing my best puppy-dog eyes. Jason, despite his gruff exterior, had a soft spot for those. After a moment of internal debate that was visible in the tic in his jaw, he sighed. "Fine. But if anyone sees this, you're dead."

Your relationship, a clandestine affair built on stolen moments and whispered promises, is often a tightrope walk between my civilian life and his dangerous world. Dates usually involve rooftop picnics offering a breathtaking view of the city, or quiet nights in his surprisingly cozy (and heavily fortified) apartment. But today, you decided we needed something lighter, something…normal. You'd envisioned a day dedicated to pampering, a chance to unwind and reconnect amidst the constant pressure of his double life.

First came the headbands. Wrestling one onto Jason’s stubborn, perpetually tousled hair was a feat in itself, but eventually, you managed to secure the fuzzy pink band. He looked, to put it kindly, ridiculous. You snorted with laughter, earning a glare that could curdle milk.

Next, the nail polish. You convinced him to let me paint just one finger, arguing that it was "research" to see which color best suited his… unique personality. He chose a matte black, which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. You opted for a vibrant turquoise, and you painstakingly applied layer after layer, trying to avoid getting it all over your fingers. Jason quickly realized that painting nails was far more difficult than disarming a bomb. The frustration was palpable.

"This is a waste of time," he muttered, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his single, gothic-chic fingernail.

"Relax," You chirped, gently buffing away a smudge on his pinky. "Enjoy the process. Embrace the… manicure."

Then came the facemasks. This was where things truly devolved into chaos. You had chosen a particularly gooey, green clay mask, promising it would "draw out impurities" and leave your skin "glowing." The application was messy, to say the least. Jason smeared the mask with the grace of a toddler finger-painting, getting it in his hair, on his clothes, and even managing to flick some onto the Batmobile.

You both looked like swamp monsters, but you couldn’t help but laugh. Jason, however, was not amused.

"This is the dumbest thing I've ever done," he declared, his voice muffled by the drying clay. "You know, I've faced down Scarecrow hopped up on Fear Toxin, and this is still the most terrifying thing I've done all week."

You giggled, gently smoothing the mask around his jawline. "Oh, relax, Jay. It's supposed to be soothing. Besides, you look…kinda cute."

He grumbled something unintelligible, but you saw the corners of his lips twitch. Progress. The whole process started with a bit of reluctant participation. You'd lured him in with the promise of quality time and the persuasive argument that a little self-care was essential, even for hardened vigilantes. I’d prepped everything beforehand. Soft, fluffy towels, essential oils diffusing lavender and chamomile, and a meticulously curated selection of face masks, nail polishes, and bath bombs.

The atmosphere was surprisingly comfortable. We talked, not about the gritty realities of Gotham’s underbelly, but about mundane things: favorite movies, childhood memories, even his surprisingly discerning taste in music. For a few precious hours, you were just two people enjoying each other’s company, a welcome respite from the ever-present threat looming over our lives.

That's when disaster struck.

It started with a knock. A hesitant, almost sheepish knock that I immediately recognized.

"That'll be Tim and Damian," Jason sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "What do they want?"

You shrugged. "Probably just checking in. Don't worry, I'll handle it."

You opened the door to find Tim Drake, the ever-logical Red Robin, and Damian Wayne, the fiercely competitive Robin, standing awkwardly on the doorstep. The scene that greeted them was, you imagine, rather unexpected. Two figures covered in green goo, one sporting a pink headband and a single black fingernail, surrounded by an array of brightly colored beauty products.

Tim's jaw dropped. Damian, on the other hand, simply raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"What," Damian said, his voice dripping with disdain, "is the meaning of this… unspeakable horror?"

Jason, seizing the opportunity, immediately threw me under the bus. "It's all her fault!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly in my direction with his goo-covered hands. "She forced me into this ridiculous charade!"

"Uh…we were just…wondering if everything was alright?" Tim stammered, his voice betraying his surprise. "We saw the light on and…well…"

Before you could formulate a coherent explanation, Jason emerged from the living room, face mask still firmly in place. The sight of the Red Hood, notorious for his lethal methods, looking like a pampered spa enthusiast was clearly too much for them to process.

Tim’s jaw dropped. Damian, however, simply raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Todd," Damian said, his voice laced with thinly veiled mockery. "What exactly is going on here?"

Jason, never one to back down from a challenge, crossed his arms, a defiant glint in his eyes. "It's a spa day. What's it to you?"

"A spa day?" Tim repeated, his voice cracking slightly. "You? Really?"

"Yeah, really," Jason retorted. "Got a problem with that, Replacement?"

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could see this quickly escalating into a full-blown argument, complete with hurled insults and possibly even a few Batarangs. You decided to intervene.

"Guys, chill out," You said, stepping between them. "It's just a little relaxation. Why don't you come in? We've got plenty of face masks to go around."

Tim, recovering from his initial shock, started to chuckle. "Are those… facemasks?" he asked, gesturing to your green faces.

"Indeed," Damian replied, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "It appears our elder brother has succumbed to the allure of… self-care."

"Don't even start," Jason growled, but a faint smile played on his lips.

You expected resistance, perhaps even outright refusal. But to your surprise, Tim and Damian exchanged a hesitant glance. The allure of pampered relaxation, it seemed, was stronger than sibling rivalry.

And then, the unthinkable happened.

"Actually," Tim said, his voice thoughtful, "I could use a facial. All-nighters take a toll on your skin."

Damian, ever the competitive one, wasn't about to be outdone. "If Drake is participating in this… frivolous activity, then I shall as well. One must maintain a flawless complexion, even while fighting crime."

Suddenly, Operation Spa Day expanded.

Convincing Tim and Damian to participate was surprisingly easy. Getting them to relax, however, was another story. Damian insisted on analyzing the ingredients of the facemask for potential toxins, while Tim meticulously researched the benefits of each nail polish color. Jason, surprisingly, seemed to be enjoying himself, albeit in a begrudging sort of way.

You ended up painting Damian's nails a subtle, sophisticated grey, while Tim opted for a bright, almost neon green. Jason, emboldened by the presence of his brothers, demanded you paint his other nails black as well.

Of course, your newfound zen was short-lived. As you were rinsing off your facemasks, a deep voice boomed from the shadows.

"What," Batman said, his voice laced with disbelief, "is going on here?"

The sight that greeted him was even more absurd than what Tim and Damian had stumbled upon. Four figures, faces still slightly green, sporting various shades of nail polish, surrounded by a chaotic mess of beauty products.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared at you, his cowl casting his face in shadow. Then, a very faint, almost imperceptible twitch appeared at the corner of his lips.

“Did you… paint your nails?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Jason, never one to miss an opportunity, grinned. “Yeah, Batsy. You’re next.”

Batman simply shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in his eyes. He surveyed the scene one last time, then turned and walked away, muttering something about needing a stronger cup of coffee.

You all exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. Even Damian, surprisingly, cracked a small smile.

[zznlii]

Plug!Eren Jaeger: Just Friends.[Smut]

Purple LED lights circled the entire room, casting a strong lighting against the walls and you. Les, Childish Gambino played lowly from the TV in the corner of Eren’s room, the open window next to the bed blew in a nighttime breeze, making the blinds hit against the windowsill.

“You still fucking around with Jean?” His voice cuts through the otherwise comfortable silence between the two of you.

Looking up at him from scrolling through your socials, eyes lidded and red from the joint rolled neatly between Eren’s fingers.

“Oh nah, broke that shit off ages ago.” You shrug, leaning back against the headboard, tired eyes back on your phone. Eren raises an eyebrow, “What for?”

Snorting, you look at him from the corner of your eye, “Dick wasn’t good enough.” It was only a half joke, you had really parted ways because it just wasn’t hitting the same anymore, for either of you.

But still, Eren scoffs at that, “Figures.” And to that you frown, “What, think you can do better?” You were just teasing, as usual, but there was possibly a part of you that actually wanted to know.

“Don’t play with me.” He scoffs again, shaking his head, at that you sit up a little more, “Nah you’ve gassed yourself up now, gonna need some evidence.”

And that’s how you ended up folded up, knees to your chest as he holds them up there with one arm, his bicep flexing each time his hips slammed against your ass, his other hand knocking away the stray hairs that fell in front of his face as his bun came loose.

“Fuck! ‘Ren..!” You whine, head back and eyes lidded with your brows furrowed up, plump lips parted and wet from lipgloss and his salvia.

“Wanted to know- don’t be pussy now.” He grunted, smacking away your hands that tried to remove his hold from you.

“Don’t fucking run, take it.” His voice was low, words drawn out as he tipped his own head back, turquoise eyes hitting the purple light of his LEDs just right, his expression dark. You could feel each drag of his long dick against your walls, felt each vein, his mushroom head stroking your cervix with each harsh thrust.

The bed squeaked and the headboard tapped against the wall behind it. Sitting up a little more, he used both strong hands to pry your legs further apart and closer to your ears. To him, you looked so pretty like this. His pretty best friend.

“Take it so good, so good for me. How the fuck did Jean let this go?” He groans, not expecting you to answer his question which was good because you wouldn’t have been able to anyways, “Sucking me in so nice, gonna stay being nice to me, mama?” He asks through quick breaths.

When you don’t respond, he brings a hand down to slap the flesh of your ass, you jolt, letting out a high whine before your hazy eyes find his, “Yes! Holy fuck.. right there please-!” Your back arches from the sheets and he grins, stopping for a second to angle his hips properly before his brutal pace started up again.

Thick tears gathered in your eyes, drool threatening to spill from the corners of your parted mouth as your mind went blank.

Yeah, like fuck was Eren ever going to give this up. He was sure he could convince you to make this a regular thing. As friends of course.