#but back to praising the art because BOY is it PRETTY

[jhoneybees]

Special gift

Hello Hello! I'm back dollies :) Here's a cute little fic! It's been a while since I've posted a fic so I do apologise😬 and with the desire part 2 I am writing it! but I'm gonna be shelving that for a bit because I'm not in that thirsty mood at the moment lol I've been craving some sweet fluffy Elvis! Enjoy!

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 my doll!

Characters: Highschool 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: I'd say nothing but if you spot something, please comment!

_____________________________________________

Gosh. His eyes, the waves of deep blue rippling into that icy blue around those dark pupils, increasing and decreasing in size. You really could get lost in them, you have to be careful though, you wouldn't want to fall in love…would you?

Well for your case, yes. You're in love, you're madly in love with a pretty boy. With how he skillfully combs back his hair into a duck tail and how his bottom lip juts out just a bit when he's deep in concentration, you're just melting at just the thought of him, of Elvis Presley.

He's everything you're looking for in a man, a future husband you hope and dream. He’s kind, caring, funny, generous, courteous, and humble. It goes on and on and on and you wouldn’t be panting by the endless list at all because you'll be too busy listing off every praise in the universe. Your mind is just filled with everything Elvis, in every single nook and cranny.

_____________________________________________

Closing the locker door with a tinny slam, your eyes drift to the boy of your dreams. Just standing there with nobody accompanying him, you take the chance to admire him, admiring how his ever growing chest hairs peek out from behind his white short sleeved button up, his lean biceps fill out those sleeves so nicely and his simple black slacks just had to make you hitch a breath, they compliment his long legs so well.

You really do dream of approaching Elvis someday, to finally confess your love that you've been bottling up ever since the first day you saw him but you're shy, so shy that you'd be a shaking leaf just asking a teacher for directions to the art classroom and not only that, you're scared of rejection, you know everyone else is too but it still doesn't change your mind to have the courage to walk up to Elvis Presley and blurt out the three words.

As you sigh and grip your books closer to your chest in longing, his eyes pierce into yours. You didn't know he could stop time because the brief moment of the both of you staring feels like the bustling crowds around you just freeze.

Trying to take an even deep breath, you swallow thickly as he strides towards you. Your wrists ache at the growing pressure against the edges of the books but you don't care because all you're thinking is if your knees are about to collapse at the blessing of seeing Elvis' shy but also charming grin.

“You're Y/n, right?” he asks.

You nod quietly and he breathes out a shy chuckle, stuffing his hand into his pocket, he nods back and you're guessing, out of nervous habit, he scratches the back of his neck.

“I-I’m Elvis…and uh- This m-m-might sound crazy but uh- I've seen you around these places and thought you're real pretty” he states.

He thought you're pretty? No. Real pretty? Oh your dreams must be having a real good time, you can't bring yourself to believe that, he couldn't possibly think that, he's got so many other girls who are far prettier than you that he could choose from, right?

“And uh- ah can't keep my head f’om shuttin’ up to ask ya if ya..uh.. w-w-wanted to go on a date with me?” his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

A date?! You? He’s asking you on a date? You swear, you're hearing wedding bells in your head and not the ones from the church a few blocks down that you'd willingly get married in if he asked you to or you're preferred choice, wanted to.

This can't be real, right?

“Y-you don't gotta say yes if ya don't wanna but just thought ah’d better take someone like you out before I regret myself”

He stammers with his head lowering towards his chest and rubbing the back of his neck with a small crooked smile.

Your overly religious parents would scold you for using his name in vain but…

Oh God

Gulping again for- you think, the 20th time. You clutch your books even tighter than before, fully aware that it would definitely leave red marks on your skin. Trying your best to not appear overly shy, you grip at that ounce of courage and give Elvis a small smile.

You've been dreaming of this.

“I-I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH. MY. GOSH.

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley…

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley!

As you close your bedroom door and plop your books down on your desk, you gasp softly in your hands in absolute shock. How did you land on such luck? Or whatever it is. Turning yourself around, you sit at the end of bed and dig your face deeper into your hands.

Trying to process your thoughts but of course, all you could ‘process’ is the image of Elvis, the guy that walked up to you. The boy who asked you on a date!

“Ah!!” You squeal, slamming yourself back on the bed, kicking your feet in the air with so much excitement.

Your hands dragging down your face don't do anything to your big smile, you're just amazed, in awe, so in love.

Then a thought comes into your head. What are you gonna give to Elvis as a token of appreciation?

Others might not think of anything like that but to you, it feels necessary. Elvis is taking time out of his day to take you out so why wouldn't you give him something for such a kind gesture?

_____________________________________________

“Thank you…”

You smile as Elvis helps you out of the car, your small hands held by his large ones, you feel calluses on his fingertips from what you know and saw, playing his guitar during lunch breaks and occasionally at the local park on weekends. Their firmness slightly nudges at the back of your hand, the warmth just engulfing your hand cosily. You couldn't be more satisfied at just the slightest touch from him.

Then as he leads you down the wide dirt and grassy track, you grip your knuckles together.

He didn't tell you where you were both going in Riverside Park for this date and as much as you adore and love Elvis, you're a little concerned but as you two near the riverbank and Elvis turns to you with a sweet boyish smile on his face. Your concerns wash away instantly.

“M’sorry this date ain't shiny and lavish…” he chuckles nervously.

“No, this is lovely, Elvis” you say softly, returning a smile.

You wouldn’t have this date any other way, it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. Getting to sit beside the river with him, being in each other’s company, it’s perfect to you.

You have seen him with other girls at school before and when you saw how much of a gentleman he was to them just makes your heart stab itself with an arrow and you thought you know every kind gesture he does but he’s full of surprises because when he started taking off his jacket and laying it down on the grass, he had the audacity to melt your heart for the 100th time in the span of just 2 weeks.

“Don’t wanna get your pretty skirt dirty”

Of course with that little grin that you have memorised every detail from.

He is just…everything.

The conversation just flows so effortlessly and after some time it begins to fizzle out and you both sit in pleasant silence, you look out at the slow moving, crisp water and when you don’t expect it you both breathe in the fresh air at the same time. Whipping your heads around and bursting into a fit of giggles.

You want to spend your life with him.

Your mind runs with thoughts of how lovely this simple date is and when you turn to look at Elvis’ face, you accidentally let out a tiny gasp which you hope Elvis didn’t hear but of course he did. Turning to look at you with a slow growing smile and piercing blue eyes that ping through into your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started laughing at your poor little heart thumping a thousand miles per hour.

Panting so much that its cheeks would flush a brighter red than it already is.

“Enjoyin’ yer time?” he asks with raised eyebrows, creating those cute little wrinkles on his forehead.

You nod with a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your cheeks grow a bit pink, almost like the same colour as his socks that are slightly exposed under his brown slacks.

He looks back at the water and you do the same. After a little while, you remember the thing you made for him. Quietly moving your arm, you dig in your skirt pocket and pull out a beaded bracelet with a colour scheme that you hope Elvis would like. Baby blue and gold. Finishing off with a white bead in the middle with a little gold encrusted heart on it.

“Um..Elvis?”

Your heart sighs at how he softly hums in response, turning to look at you with slow wandering eyes.

“Yeah?”

Holding in your breath, you close your eyes for a brief moment. You really do hope he’ll like it, you did work very hard on this little bracelet but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t complain if he just throws it into the water and yells at you because it’s not much, It’s really not much compared to him using the fuel in his daddy’s car to drive you here and take time out of his precious day but you still like to hope.

Holding the small token in your hands, you lower your chin towards your chest. Gulping nervously at the non existent saliva in your desert-dry mouth.

“I-It’s not much but uh… I made you this a-as a thank you gift for- bringing me here a-and taking time o-out of your day- uhmp-” you stutter and with a bit of bravery and courage, you thrust your hands out more towards his chest.

Your heart almost jumps at the unexpected chuckle and your hands begin to tremble as you feel his fingertips brush your palm, picking up the homemade gift with a crooked grin on his handsome face. Your hands fall onto your lap, your brain shivering in delight. He’s so delicate and gentle at how he’s holding the bracelet and you just melt at how he takes the time to admire every single little bead that you know damn well costed you $1.50 for a small pack and the small gold encrusted heart being your only special bead that you didn’t want to use for anything that isn’t special, yes it’s not actual gold but you just thought a while ago that there could be a possible chance of a real special moment that this little bead would fit perfectly in which this moment is just that.

“Aw Y/n…that’s real sweet of ya, thank you” he drawls, still looking at the bracelet in hand. Shaking his head with a bigger grin, you quietly watch as he shimmies his hand through the bracelet, starting to doubt if it’s even going to fit, but it snaps in place and moulds around his wrist perfectly and as he looks up at you, you swear you felt your nerves in your body shut down for a split second.

Then your breath hitches as his hand softly and gently picks up your hand. This can’t be happening. Watching his hand lift yours up to his lips, his baby blues peering up at you, he places a delicate kiss on the back.

“...I love you”

[bigfatbimbo]

on my knees begging for some Lucifer smut. Hes such a dork I need him biblically 😭

OMG LITERALLY SAME I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANNA EAT HIM UP 🫶🫶

anyways i’m obsessed with him so i’m gonna do nsfw hcs and a little drabble at the end bc bestie i need him too

art by hellpple_hz on twitters

❀˖° So let me just say, if been a long time since he’s gotten laid so he’s probably so nervous about it.

❀˖° I could see him being a switch but never really a hard dom, more of a sevice top. Like when he tops it would be all about your needs.

❀˖° He definitely loves, probably prefers, when you take control and treat him. He loves feeling cared for it’s so sad.

❀˖° Has a huge praise kink, giving and receiving. He just likes to know he’s doing well. 

❀˖° “good boy” “pretty boy” “pretty baby” are his favorites because he really wants to feel appreciated by you.

❀˖° If you call him on of those during sex he’ll probably whine on the spot because he’s just pathetic like that.

❀˖° Intimacy while doing it is a must. Like please hold his hand when you tell him you’re close. He wants to feel as connected to you as possible.

❀˖° I’m pretty sure Lilith canonically pegged him so… yeah he’s very into that. Being fully taken care of by you while you’re fucking your strap into him.

❀˖° He’s the king of hell and he’s probably very stressed all the time so not having to think or make decisions would make him very happy.

❀˖° When he tops, I feel like he also praises you a lot. I also don’t see him being too dominate and rough.

❀˖° His style is definitely more gentle and caring as he fucks you. He fucks you like you’re made of porcelain, not wanting to break you and only wanting to let you know how perfect you are.

❀˖° I don’t think he’s extremely kinky but I do think he’s SUPER VOCAL. Have you heard his voice? he just sounds like he whines.

❀˖° If you praise him too much he probably tears up under all the attention. Lovingly fucking him and telling him he’s perfect? He will actually cry.

❀˖° When he goes into subspace he’s actually so cute. He just begs you to tell him how well he’s doing and that you love him. To the point where he doesn’t even understand anything else if it’s not praise.

❀˖° Also very sweet during aftercare! Definitely makes breakfast for you the morning after.

“Just like that baby, you’re doing so good for me,” you cooed as you rode lucifer into what be another orgasm of the night. 

“My love, nngh, please,” he whimpered and threw his head back. His face was puffy from crying and his hair was in shambles from all the attention.

“So pretty like this, sweetheart. So pretty, letting me use you as a toy,” you smile as he lets out a broken whimper from the praise. 

A tear rolls down his cheek and he lets out a soft whine when you roll your hips and pick up the pace. 

You lean forward and breathe into his neck, “you’re doing amazing, Luci, you’re taking it so well.”

He half sobs and arches his back. You pepper kisses all over his tear-covered as your hands lovingly trace his body.

“Please…” he whispers pathetically, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Please what, baby?” You say sweetly as you continue to milk him dry with your pussy.

“Please,” his brows furrow tightly as if he’s trying to remember how to speak under all the pleasure, “please let me cum.”

You smile and ride him faster, starting to loose composure yourself now. 

“Whenever you want, Luci,” you sigh and let your head fall slightly back as you feel your own climax approaching.

Lucifer whined loudly and bucked his hips up into your cunt. 

“My love, nngh,” he moaned uselessly as his eyes filled with more tears. You picked up the pace and Lucifer arched into your touch, chasing his orgasm.

“Good boy, making me feel so good, baby.”

That was his breaking point. With your climax following soon after, he moaned loudly, finally releasing and falling back onto the mattress, chest heaving. 

“Oh my goodness,” he panted, “Th-thank you, my love.” He shut his eyes and softly smiled, exhaustion finally setting in.

“You did amazing,” you say softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek before picking yourself up off of his overstimulated cock.

His eyes fluttered open slightly when he felt your hand slowly tracing down to the base of his cock.

“But we’re not done yet.” 

a/n: real men say ‘oh my goodness’ after an orgasm

remember that

[on-leatheredwings]

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand. 

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades. 

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string. 

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black. 

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said. 

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you. 

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns. 

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory. 

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention. 

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing. 

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant. 

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming. 

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01. 

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned. 

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face. 

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away. 

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe. 

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen. 

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself. 

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard. 

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way. 

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice. 

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly. 

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

[horrorhot-line]

rafayel's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: rafayel x female!reader

➵ word count: 3.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. slight exhibitionism, sex toys, edging, blindfolding, handcuffs, overstimulation, somnophilia, praise kink, bondage.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ xavier's ver. | zayne’s ver.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

© 2024 horrorhot-line

notes: this one's for you @jaiden-zhou, i was gonna take a break and post these later, but your reblog asking for rafayel and zayne's version meant i got to work right away. hope you enjoy <3333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) he loves talking after sex. most would get tired after the extracurricular activities, you included, but not rafayel. he loves picking your brain about anything and everything. still semi inside you, lazily thrusting into you as he empties the last of his cum inside you, trailing kisses across your face as he asks you where you'd want to go if the two of you went travelling. he won't admit it, ever- but he does it because he's realised it's when you're the most honest, spent and cheeks still flushed after your orgasms, still delirious after he's fucked the living daylights out of you. he will also never admit, he doesn't want to fall asleep and running his mouth makes sure of that, he doesn't want to risk you leaving him again. "what do you think about the city of love? i'd love to fuck you in paris."

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he adores your body, you know this, but his absolute favourite part of you is your eyes. no matter how many lifetimes he's spent waiting for you, your eyes are always the same, soft, shining and focused only on him. he loves fucking you, starting off slow as his pelvis collides with your clit and has you seeing stars, he loves the way your gaze focuses on him when he's thrusting into you, pulling out ever so slightly only to snap his hips back into yours. and fuck, does he love the way he gets to watch your eyes roll back. his favourite part about himself is his dick, pretty self-explanatory. he loves the way you tell him his cock is perfect as he fucks into you, pressing the rough of his thumb against your clit as you throw your head back. "you look so pretty like this, drooling all cause of my cock."

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he may have asked if he could use your cum as paint once, promising he'll never let anyone else see his creation apart from you. rafayel loves shoving his cum back inside you when it leaks out, plugging you up with his fingers as he makes sure you don't waste a single drop, ignoring the way you look like absolute sin with tears of overstimulation in your eyes. though, he can't ignore the way his dick hardens again at the way you glow after you've orgasmed, thighs wet with slick and looking so inviting, "one more round? come on, i know you can cum again- do it for me."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) if you hadn't guessed it already, rafayel lives for validation- your validation. he'll never admit it; he doesn't want to bruise his ego by telling you how much he likes hearing you whimper and moan. he loves when he first puts his dick inside you, grabbing the hand that reaches out to place itself on his stomach as you struggle to take him in, and he raises that same hand above your head so he can plug your slick pussy with his cock. "ah, ah, ah- you wanted this, can't back out now. instead of trying to stop, why don't you tell me how good my dick feels, hm?"

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he knows his way around, he's watched enough porn when he was researching for an art project of his. the real thing is different though, and he realises that when you're under him, spreading your legs for him, and he finds no matter how hard he tries, you're pussy is just too good. the first round is always quick, but he knows how to work his fingers and his tongue, making sure you cum more times than he can count before he's ready to go again, forcing your legs apart as he raises his top and bites down on it, watching how his dick enters you. "lost for words? why don't you start off by telling me how good i feel?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) this is a hard one for him, but if he had to choose it would definitely be cow girl. the sight of you riding his dick so well, struggling to take him in, sweat lining your bodies as he grips your tit and watches the other one bounce. he loves the way you lower your chest to his after a few minutes, legs aching, letting him know he can take over. he manages to hit all your sweet spots in this position too, and there's no escape for you as he wraps his arms around you, angling his hips to fuck into you, making sure you feel his tip against your cervix. "tired already? if you wanted me to take over, my love- all you had to do was ask."

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he knows how to be serious, but if there's a queef, he'll laugh. how can you expect him not to? that, and he likes catching you off gaurd, because when you join him, giggling at his antics, he snaps his hips into yours, setting a brutal pace that has you struggling to catch your breath. "what? you not gonna laugh, anymore? no? didn't think so."

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's always well-groomed. always clean-shaven and there's never a stubble that gives you carpet burn, because he likes to stay on top of it. he wants you to focus on the feel of his dick inside you and nothing else when he's pounding your wet cunt. he treats his body like a temple, basically. "i wanna look good for myself. it has nothing to do with you." (it does.)

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) rafayel acts like he doesn't care about being romantic, but he does. when he's not salty about how you make him wait, he gives you the best treatment, always eating you out first, fingering you until you can't take anymore, begging for him to fill you up with his cock, which he does, rubbing your clit as he rolls his hips into yours, making sure you remember the way his dick feels buried deep inside you. he always makes sure you finish, and he likes to admire the artwork in front of him one he's done, you laying flushed beneath him, lips parted, breathing heavily and still twitching. "you look so pretty when i'm through with you. hey, can i draw you like this? no? just one quick sketch, please…"

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) you make him horny 24/7, even when you're not around. he'll be in his studio, casually painting and lounging when you pop into his head, and his mind will drift to all the times you've been underneath him. by the time you've come home to him, he's a needy mess, flushed, dick in his hand already leaking precum as he begs you to help him out because he's been edging himself for hours, waiting for you. "please, my love. i need you."

➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) what kinks does he not have? he has a huge praise kink, that's for sure. loves it when you get vocal and tell him how good he feels, how he's too deep and that it's too much, he loves watching you struggle to take him all in, slamming the last few inches in just so he can hear you sob. he's also a huge fan of overstimulation; he loves pushing you past your limits, watching you become a mess as he squeezes out another orgasm with his fingers. he's into bondage too, something about the idea of you being all tied up, looking pretty for him, helpless to what he has in store for you. he's a bit of a switch, too- he loves you taking control when you've had enough of his teasing just so he can roll you over and force you to take his dick. he also adores watching you use him, making yourself feel good with his cock. "you gonna cum, baby? feel good? who knew you'd love my dick this much?"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) he's a bit of an exhibitionist, reckons it comes with the job description of being an artist. so, he likes it anywhere as long as it's you. he has a list of places he'd love to dick you down at, but his favourite would be his art studio. you're his muse, what gives his paintings colour and life, and he loves spreading you across his desk, raising your hips off the table so he can snap his hips into you only to imagine the same scenario as he starts his new piece. he also loves the beach; something about being close to home, the waves around your feet and hands as he bends you over, lifting you by the arm so you're body's flush against his, calloused fingers reaching for your clit. he loves the way he can feel the water against his thighs as you throw your head back against his shoulder, and he can watch your lovely fucked out expression. "told you the sea was warm during the summer. having fun, baby?"

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) just thinking about it gets him horny; you know this already. it doesn't matter where the two of you are, he will borrow your hole to empty his load, whining and teasing you until you give in, finding the nearest secluded place before pulling his pants down and sliding your panties to the side. you have this effect on him, he can't control himself, and he blames you for it, something he lets you know often as he fucks you from behind, grabbing your tit in one hand, arm under your shoulder and across your chest to lock you in place so you can't run, "it's all your fault for turning me on. that means it's your responsibility to help me out."

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he calls you 'my love.' a lot- something about your heart being his. he likes calling you his, repeating the words "mine, mine, mine." as he's fucking into you before his lips latch onto yours, swallowing your moans and desperate cries. he does like to use babe when he's teasing you or being mean as payback for you making him wait, rubbing your swollen clit, grabbing the wrist that reaches out to stop him as he rolls his hips into yours, "come on babe, i know you have more left in you. cum one more time for me- yeah?"

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he loves receiving but will never pester you for it. he'll ask, but if you say no, then so be it. when you do agree, though, he'll shove himself as deep as he can go, hissing as his tip kisses the back of your throat, running his fingers through your hair before wiping away the stray tear going down the side of your temple, smiling down at you as he reaches over to plug his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out as you choke on his dick. "don't cry, my love. save your tears for when i fill you up. not long now, i know you can do it."

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's not slow, but he is sensual. setting a brutal pace that has you falling off the edge and clenching your thighs as your orgasm hits you, before slowing down his thrusts and taking his time, letting you ride out your high before he's fucking into you again, squeezing your ass and moving you up and down his dick so his cock reaches the deepest it can inside you. "you're mine, yeah? fuck, you're so tight. 'm gonna cum inside you."

➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) yes, the answer is yes anytime that word is used in a sentence. he'll wait for you to initiate unless you make him horny, which is more often than not- he loves subtly teasing you, hands finding their way into your panties underneath tables, fingers tracing your hips, feather-light touches across your thighs to let you know he needs you, leading you to wherever's semi-decent before he's shoving your clothes aside, bending you over and kicking your legs apart so he can fuck you until he's satisfied. "you're gonna have to cover again with thomas for me, babe. this is all you, you know? wearing those thigh highs- thinking i wouldn't react."

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) definitely game to experiment, he adores finding new ways to pull reactions out of you. the first time he tried fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold on you, he swore it was the hardest he'd ever been. he was in awe, starstruck, watching you twitch at the slightest touch, looking all pretty and helpless. you were at his mercy, and it made his cock twitch. the wait was worth it, though- after he was done using his fingers to push you over the edge enough times, he lined himself up with your pussy, and hissed at the way he slid right in. buried completely inside you, he held your hips up as he started fucking you, realising you were louder when your sight was covered. "who knew you'd like being used? since you enjoy it so much, why don't we do this more often?"

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) you usually lose track after the 7th to 8th round, mind blank after he's pulled another orgasm from you, towering over your spent body, a smug smile on his face as he pulls his dick out of you, slapping it against your slick pussy a few times, before shoving it back in completely, with no warning. he will quite literally fuck you until you pass out. "come on, babe. keep your eyes open, and on me- i know you can go one more round."

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he owns quite a few, most are in the first drawer of his bedside table, the others are scattered across his mansion. he likes buying them to see how you react, keeping the ones you enjoy the most. his favourites are the ones that focus on your clit, he loves fucking you when he uses them, feeling your pussy spasm around him as you cum again. he does own a pussy pocket and uses it often when you're away. also, he's definitely asked if he can have one moulded to the shape of your cunt specifically.

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he's very unfair, often teasing you as payback for all the years you've made him wait for you, thumb hovering over your clit as he stops you from orgasming, halting his thrusts as he watches you try and grind against his dick. he turns your head to him and kisses you, mouth swallowing your complaints and sobs as he watches you twitch from overstimulation. he breaks the kiss only to fuck into you nice and slow, building up the pace before he's slamming into you from behind, arms wrapping around you when you try to crawl away from him with how sensitive you are. "what now, my love? you can't move, poor thing. try and escape me this time."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he loves being vocal, letting you know just how good you feel as he manages to stuff his dick in your tight cunt, tip kissing your cervix as you double over at the feeling of being so full. he'll pull you right back up against his chest, not letting you catch your breath as he starts fucking into you, fingers flicking your hardened nipples, hands squeezing your tits as he moans in your ear. doesn't help that he sounds like pure sin, and his moans alone have you tightening around his cock. "fuuuck, you have no idea how good you feel. you're so wet, baby… feeling good? yeah? i know i am."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) you agree to it after he gives you the pros and cons, and find that he uses it every chance he gets. you didn't expect this out of him, but this man really wants to fuck you in your sleep. just something about the idea of having his way with you when you're not conscious. that, and he gets horny during the night and doesn't wanna wake you just to fuck you. he'd much rather finger you until you're ready to take him, stirring in your sleep but not fully awake as he rubs his dick along your pussy, using your slick to lube himself up before he's lining himself up and shoving his dick in, inch by inch. he'll rolls his hips experimentally, and moan softly in your ear. he waits for you to wake up, dazed and disoriented as your brain catches up, before he slams his dick completely into you, not giving your confused mind the chance to register your arousal as he starts rubbing your clit, teasing an orgasm out of you the minute you're up. "there she is. how'd you like your wake-up call, babe?"

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) his dick is perfect, no, really. it is the most gorgeous dick you have ever seen, not a hair in sight, and his tip is the prettiest pink colour, all flushed from how turned on he gets because of you. he's circumcised, hates the idea of his penis ever getting dirty or smelling, that- and he reckons it makes it easier for you to suck him off. he has length and girth, not too big that it hurts but enough that you can feel him in your gut when he's inside you.

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) very high, no matter how many times he fucks you, he can never get enough. rafayel loves the feel of your pussy, maybe more than the feel of a paintbrush in his hand when he has newfound motivation to finish a project, and he enjoys having his way with you whenever he wants. if he's ready to go, it means you'll soon follow. you can't refuse him when his touch trails across your bare skin, hands down your panties and fingers shoved two digits deep inside you, teasing and edging you until you give in to his need to fuck. "you can't blame me- it's your fault for looking so pretty, all fucked up like this. 'm gonna mark you up, let everyone know you're mine."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he wants to fall asleep right after he's done with you, having spent most of his energy fucking you until you're leaking his cum all over the bed sheets, but he likes staying awake until you pass out, idle talk lulling you to slumber as he brushes your hair out your face and behind your ear, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest before he pulls you into his arms and rests his cheek against your tits. "you're asleep already? …i love you."

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

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[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

[thebibliosphere]

From what I've seen, I think the Batkids would like your book.

Hunger Pangs? You flatter me.

But also, yes thank you for this particular strain on self-indulgent brain rot. I am going to be absolutely abnormal about this.

I’d like to imagine Dick picks it up at an airport somewhere on his way back from a trip and becomes hooked on the “clever, pretty, jumps-from balconies-for-the-thrill-of-the-fall vampire and goes, “oh, same.”

The fact that it’s got a rugged, soldiery werewolf with a heart of gold who enforces self-care as a form of kink-play is also doing stuff to his brain. (That’s a thing? He can… he can ask someone for that? Who does he ask for that? It’s been weeks since he slept more than a few hours and ate more than cereal for dinner. Seriously, who does he ask? How much is it? He’s got money. He’ll pay.) The uh, the need for validation and the budding praise kink is also hitting a little too close to home.

As is “all powerful witch with the power to pick you up with her mind and throw you around like a rag doll.” (LiStEN, he spent a large chunk of his formative years surrounded by tight spandex suits, villains with sexy mind control pollen and getting kidnapped and tied up every other week. It’s not his fault he’s Like This.)

He’s not mad about it, though.

*

Babs catches him re-reading it during downtime. She’s not even that interested, more asking what it is to be polite, but the way Dick jumps and turns red, like he didn’t even realize she was in the room is… intriguing.

“I can see why you like it,” she says, several days later, casually drinking her coffee while Dick stares straight ahead, willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Magic, politics. Saving the world from certain doom with the power of knowledge and ecological preservation.” She glances sideways at him. “Vlad’s got some interesting quirks.”

“Shut up.”

“Are we sure you’ve not been compromised?”

“Babs, I mean it.”

“Mean what?” Tim appears in the kitchen as though from nowhere, pouring a red bull into the coffee pot.

No one tries to stop him.

“Dick’s reading a new book,” Babs says, ignoring the murderous look Dick sends her way.

“Oh? What book? Is it any good?”

“Uh, yeah, uh.” Dick rubs at the back of his neck, glaring daggers at Babs as she rolls out of the room, cackling. “It’s uh, romance. Kind of silly actually…”

“Oh?”

Dick nods. “It’s got a vampire and a werewolf. Two guys. And a… well she’s just sort of magic. They break into a library to save the world from ecological disaster. They’re all bi. Together. Or they will be in the next book. This one’s more about the vampire and the werewolf getting together. Um...”

Tim’s gone very still in the way he does when his brain has caught hold of something and he’s absolutely about to let it consume him. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Dick shrugs. “It’s got some kink in it,” he warns, not wanting to expose his younger brother to something he’s not ready for. Which is ludicrous because he’s Robin. And from the way Tim’s not drinking his ‘coffee’ he can tell this is only going to go one way no matter what he says. He brightens, remembering something. “But there’s, like, a non smutty version too? Or a less smutty version, I guess? I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet. I could, we could go to the bookstore, maybe stop at the art store too…”

“I’ll meet you in the car.”

*

“So,” Jason says, and Dick can already tell where this is going by the shit-eating grin on his face. “Vampires, huh? Or is it more the werewolves you’re into?”

“Who told you?” Dick bemoans. “Was it Babs?” He bets it was Babs. Fucking Babs.

“Oh, no one told me anything Boy Wonder. Tim found out the author has a go-fund-me for some medical shit that exceeded his monthly allowance and he’s been harassing Bruce to “fix it” for several days now. He’s down in the cave making a nuisance of himself right now. Apparently he quote “needs more of the bisexual monster books Dick told him about” unquote, and the author can’t do shit if she up and fucking dies because this country’s a fucking for-profit shit hole.”

Dick places his head in his hands. “Oh, God. Is Bruce mad? He’s mad, isn’t he?”

Jason shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. Last I heard, Tim was playing him the audiobook over the bat computer to make his case.”

Dick let’s his head thump against the table. This is it. This is his villain origin story. He’s going to run away and join the Rogues. Or maybe he’ll go back to the Circus. Either option is better than the idea of having to meet Bruce’s eye later over the dinner table.

“Personally, I thought the plot was a little weak but the characters are compelling,” Jason says, sipping his herbal tea. “I liked the chill necromancer doctor. I feel like he’d be able to fix me.”

[rosedom]

ok ok so, kazuha who always denied it everytime reader calls him a pretty boy. so reader fuck him rough and won't let him cum before kazuha tell that he's a pretty boy

there's just something about pretty boys that has me weak . . . o(*￣︶￣*)o thirst format !

hoooolyyyy moly. god, okay ! you got me, you got me.

kazuha is so, so sweet. he waxes poetic with every breath he takes. each whisper of affection curls around you, warm and tender and so, so loving. but it wouldn't take long for you to notice how quiet he is regarding himself.

you wonder, then, how he can create such beauty from the setting sun, yet he can never compare his own eyes to them. his eyes, so wide and round and gorgeous, tinted like the ocean water when the sun kisses it in retreat. he, too, never dares to speak of the way his body, so small yet so strong, can wield the type of power that can put gods at his feet. no—instead, he writes about how beautiful the shogun looked; he sees through an artist's eyes the way her eyes widened in fear, the way her pupils shrunk and pretty purple showed just how human a god could be.

you simply cannot understand how a man can see the world through such a rose petal'd lens, yet when he looks at himself, he sees nothing of note. he sees a vessel, sure; he can understand the innate beauty of soul's vessel. but beyond that? nothing.

it makes your heart break, knowing that kazuha—the man capable of so much art, making the world brighter and changing the way you see everything—does not see himself in any positive light. to him, he simply exists.

really, he walks the earth the same as you do—yet while he marvels that you are here with him, he cannot grasp that you, too, marvel at him.

he could grasp, however, at your cheeks—at you yourself, when you've got him pressed into the bed with your foreheads touching. he holds onto you tightly with trembling hands, soft little sounds punched from his throat which each thrust.

"you're so—mm—!" he'd try: try to praise you, to say something pretty while you're balls deep. he can't really manage, though, when your cock presses into all his sweet spots.

each incessant thrust into him makes him cry out, cute, soft sounds that you just want to eat up ! you'll have to pardon me for thinking about how you'd have to kiss up his moans, licking into his mouth as it hangs open in his pleasure.

kazuha'd keep his shakey hold on your face, forcing you up and away from his lips to beg, "please, please. you're so perfect, like—mm—like the—the—mm!" silence his attempts at poetry, won't you?

"baby, baby," you'd have to soothe him with, punctuating each sweet name with a deep thrust, pressing into all the spots that make him writhe. "my pretty boy."

of course, he'd deny it; i wouldn't expect anything different. but quiet him more: shake your head at him and frown, gentle and not at all unkind, and kiss away his "no, no."

"but kaz," you'll say. "you're so, so pretty. so perfect f'r me." his hands, fallen from your cheeks, would claw at your back as he'd be left to squirm and cry in the arms of yours that trap him against the bed.

simply put: there is nowhere for him to go, to get away from your sweet, sweet words.

i guess you'll have to up the stakes. how awful, truly.

"c'mon, pretty," you'll coo, instead, slowing your thrusts to a torturous drag. "tell me something, will you?"

"w-what?"

with a mischievous grin, you'll have to murmur, "tell me you're pretty." then, "until you do, you're not gunna cum." 

i wish i could see the way his eyes would widen at that—betrayed, as if you had told him he wouldn't cum at all. but you'll hardly give him the time to reflect on your words—to deny them, to say anything different—, because you'd be thrusting in hard and deep and brushing against all the right places. he'll writhe and cry beneath you, and, god.

kazuha is so, so pretty: why can't he see that?

"i—mm, please, i'm so close . . ."

"you can't cum, though," you'd have to say, reaching a hand down against your words to hurry him along. his body'll jerk in your arms, torn between succumbing to the pleasure yet wanting to be good for you, to not cum just yet.

"i can't," he'll cry, shaking his head side to side and jerking on the pillow. "i can't."

when he gets too close, do something for me: reach down and pinch at his pelvis, so close yet so far to where he wants it. "yes, you can;" you'll have to soothe him with sweet words, hard n' deep thrusts. "you're my pretty boy, kaz, tell me you're pretty."

"i—i—"

"c'mon." he'd be so close, by then, twitching everywhere and left to dig into your shoulder blades. the marks he leaves across your upper back will be gorgeous, later. "you can do it, honey. c'mon."

relenting is not easy for kazuha: this you know.

but you'll also know that it's harder to stave off an orgasm for him. and so—when his hole begins to squeeze and throb around you—, he would finally cry out, "'m pretty—!" and tumble headfirst into orgasm.

just—pretty boy kazuha (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠) <33

11 FEB. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[jennifer-jeong]

[Smut] [Alhaitham x AFAB!Reader x Kaveh] Double Service

CONTENT

NSFW, 18+, smut, pretty much porn no plot, afab (assigned female at birth) reader, feminine reader (referred to as "girlfriend"), established poly relationship, handjob, fingering, oral, anal and vaginal penetration, double penetration, creampie, f and m orgasm, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES

Very very much inspired by this beautiful art on twitter <3

LINK FOR PART 1 LINK FOR PART 2

Word Count: 779

Poly Alhaitham, Reader, and Kaveh servicing Kaveh specifically for the first time.

Al Haitham fingers Kaveh while you suck Kaveh off. Kaveh is laying on his back at the edge of the bed, you’re on the bed, his face to the left of you with your head bobbing up and down on his sensitive cock. Your right hand is wrapped around Alhaitham’s lubed member as he stands, leaking with pre-cum due to the sight in front of him: Kaveh whimpering into the back of his hand, bucking up into your throat as you moan on him, sending the reverberations up his spine. Haitham’s slicked up middle and ring fingers pumping in and out of Kaveh, hitting that soft spot inside of him. And Haitham’s left hand toying with your clit as you’re on your knees, ass up, as you pleasure both your boyfriends.

Kaveh thinks you two will eventually switch around and you’ll do your usual thing of taking turns or trying positions but instead, Kaveh stays laying down on his back, still receiving pleasure. Haitham goes to position himself against Kaveh’s hole and he thinks all is normal until you straddle Kaveh and he’s confused. As Haitham fills Kaveh, Kaveh fills you. Kaveh moans loudly at the feeling and is absurdly turned on by this situation.

“B-both- ngh… at once- ah! S’too much~ mmm.”

You entwine your hands with Kaveh's and he squeezes your fingers tight because he's feeling so good. "Mmmh you're doing so good baby boy... ah- ngh," you purr out to him. Haitham grips your waist from behind you and you're sure it'll leave bruises but you don't mind, you actually kind of like it.

As you continue to ride Kaveh while Haitham fucks him from behind you, Haitham notices you have a butt plug in. As he sees you getting closer to your high earlier than them, he decides to help you out by taking out your plug and quickly replacing it with himself. “Haitham, wh- ngh!- ah!” you gasp, unexpecting it because you agreed to service Kaveh. However, both Haitham and Kaveh understood that the focus could shift just for a bit for the sake of their beloved girlfriend. You feel so amazingly full with the two of them inside. Kaveh fucks into you as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing delicious circles onto the sensitive bud. Haitham picks up his pace and has to hold you up to prevent you from collapsing due to the pleasure. You feel them enter you one after the other and it feels amazing. They love the feeling too as they feel each other pump in and out through the thin barrier of your skin between the inside of your ass and pussy.

You feel your pleasure building fast, you feel so full and it feels so good.

“S’fucking good mmmm- ah!”

“Let go princess,” Haitham whispers in your ear with a husky voice, enjoying the squeeze you give him as he says it.

“You’ve made me feel so g-good already baby, you deserve this” Kaveh says, quickening his thumb on your clit. Their words alone send you over the edge and you fall limp forwards, Haitham hugs your waist to prevent you from falling. You moan loud and your muscles shake as waves of pleasure wash over you, radiating from your core and your clit. They continue to slowly fuck you through your orgasm and it feels so heavenly. The drag of them along your walls making you see white. You babble out praises and “thank you's” to them for making you cum so hard.

Kaveh is so close after watching the display in front of him, Haitham notices and is close to finishing himself. Haitham pulls out of you and fills Kaveh again and it pushes him straight to the edge, one roll of your hips and Kaveh’s coming undone.

“Hahh… mm that’s it baby cum on his cock,” you purr at Kaveh as you slump down onto his chest, kissing at his neck.

“Mmpf!- c-cumming!”

Kaveh squeezes Haitham as he cums with a sob followed by whimpers. Haitham groans from the pressure and feels his own orgasm building.

“F-fuck- such a good boy taking me like this hm?” Haitham groans.

The thing that sends him tumbling over though is seeing Kaveh’s cum overflow out of your pussy.

“Y-yes! Ngh- P-please cum in me,” Kaveh babbles out.

“Mmmh fill him up baby,” you add.

His eyes roll back as the knot in his core snaps and he’s fucking his cum into Kaveh.

You three take some time to catch your breaths before cleaning up and giving lots of kisses, enjoying the sleep and cuddles that followed after <3.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips. 

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there. 

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly. 

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy? 

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage? 

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.” 

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?” 

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you. 

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes. 

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.” 

“Punish you?” 

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters. 

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.” 

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze. 

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist. 

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.” 

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits. 

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.” 

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process. 

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough. 

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you. 

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.” 

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before. 

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time. 

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back. 

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing. 

He is so pretty. 

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time. 

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.” 

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.” 

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming. 

“Yeah? Was it good for you?” 

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.” 

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The art of having kids

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Requested by: @jelloangela

Request gist: “Overstimulation and breeding with the Weasley twins”

A/N: Thanks for the request! When it comes to the twins, magic must be real cause I'm under some sort of horny spell lol. I don't know why this one took me so long, writer's block has me in a choke hold.

T/W: Breeding, Overstimulation, Praise, sweet nicknames (I went for one's different than usual), a teeny bit of nipple play (thought I’d add a warning anyway), no aftercare

The day had been such a drag at the joke shop. Normal customers looking at the same old stock. The twins had been at the till all day just people watching. At around 4pm, a couple came in with a small boy. The boy looked so excited by all the colours and noises that the shop provided. He was giggling and touching everything in his reach. His parents trailed behind him, putting everything back in its designated place.

Normally, customers touching things and putting them down would be one of the worst things a retail worker could come across, but this kid was so adorable. After the small family had left, the twins turned to each other. The shared look only meant one thing, you were in for a rough night.

____________________________________________

You had been upstairs in the flat above the shop preparing dinner for when the twins locked up. At first when you hear them running up the stairs, you thought something bad was happening, like a fire or a howler from Mrs Weasley.

The twins practically burst through the door and pulled you out of the kitchen, directing you towards the bedroom before you could even ask questions. Fred was in front of you pulling you by yours hands while George was behind you pushing you with eager hands on your waist. They often got like this, where they’d just ambush you and start tugging at whatever you were wearing.

Fred sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs while George trapped you there with his slim body. Fred tugged your jeans down along with your underwear, George pulled your blouse up. Both twins worked towards the same thing, getting you as bare as possible, as quick as possible.

When they achieved their goal of getting you naked, they both watched you the same way a hungry owl would watch a lost baby bunny, just waiting to strike with sharp talons. Fred stood up, pushing you onto the bed in his place. The boys stripped off their suits until they both stood before you in their underwear.

“Isn’t our girl so pretty and perfect, Georgie? She’s gonna make an amazing mother”

Fred’s words caught you off guard a little, but didn't put you off. George sat next to you and tutted at his brother.

“Freddie, you’re gonna scare our pretty girl away. How does it sound, angel? Being a pretty mummy for our babies? We’ll keep you so full of our cum until it takes, until you become so round and swollen. Just think of how perfect you’d look with a swollen tummy all because of us”.

George always had a way of talking you into kinky situations. Fred has always been the one to jump at the chance to try a new kink, whereas George would sit you down and discuss it first. He’d give you those puppy dog eyes that only he could and you’d be nodding, eager to try it. And nothing changed this time around.

You nodded, giving the boys the green light to do whatever they pleased. George's lips connected with your neck while Fred snaked his hands to your thighs, pulling your legs around his hips. Fred moved his tip up and down your slit, bumping it against your clit in an effort to get you wetter. George left marks along the skin of your neck while his hand made its way to rub over your nipples, which were slowly hardening beneath his rough fingers.

When Fred felt you were wet enough, he pushed in. Even when he was balls deep, he didn't stop to let you adjust. Fred had always claimed that you never needed to adjust, because they fucked you on a daily basis.

His thrusts were slow but deep, wanting to keep as much on his cock buried inside of you as he could. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. George's lips moved along your neck and up to your ear.

“Does he feel good, baby? You like having him deep in that little pussy? I bet you do. We’re gonna take care of you. Can’t have the mother of our children lifting a finger, now can we?”

The thought of the twins getting you pregnant caused a moan to slip past your lips. Both boys knew that they had won you over. They'd keep you bed bound until there was a positive pregnancy test if they had to. Fred’s thrusts slowly got quicker, while his hand moved to rub at your clit. He always did that when he got the chance to fuck you, loving the way your walls squeezed around him.

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, his breath coming out in groans.

“You wanna cum, pretty baby? Get my cock all nice and wet and I’ll fuck a baby into you”

His fingers got quicker circling your clit, and then it hit you. Your walls squeezed Freds cock as you came. George kept his hand busy with your tits while whispering sweet words in your ear. But Fred didn’t slow down. His thrusts stayed the same rhythm, which eventually led to your moans turning to whines and your legs trying to close around his waist to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Fred held your thighs apart, while George directed your attention onto him with his voice.

“Sweet girl, if you want Freddie to fill you up, you need to stay still. Don't want him to pull out, do you?”

Although the pain was intertwined with the pleasure, you still shook your head at the very thought of him pulling out. Fred kept going, slowly bringing you to the brink again. All it took was another orgasm from you to make his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock pulse. With a low groan, he buried himself deep within your pussy, making sure every last drop of his cum would stay inside of you where it belonged. After catching his breath, he turned to George.

“Get up here, it’s gonna all leak out when I pull out”

George got up from his place next to you to stand beside his brother. As soon as Fred pulled out, George pushed in. Fred sat next to you, trying to gently shush the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. George slowly built up to a quick pace, his eyebrows furrowing at Fred who was rubbing your clit.

“Fred, she can't handle more. I bet in this state, she couldn't even tell us apart”.

George was always the caregiver. While Fred insisted that you could take more, always drawing another orgasm from you, George was the one who would be reluctant to push you. It wasn't that he didn't like seeing you in such a blissed out state or didn't think you could handle an orgasm or two, he didn’t like those little pouts and whimpers when the pleasure morphed with pain.

“Oh come on Georgie, our girl can handle it. She’s not made of glass, she can take it. Can’t you, sweets?”

Even after a couple of orgasms, you weren’t completely in subspace. You nodded at George, hoping to ease his worries.

“Please Georgie, I can take it. I want you to fill me up. Please Georgie?”

How could George ever say no to you?

His thrusts got rougher, desperate to give you what you asked. That building pleasure was quick to release, giving you your third orgasm of the night. George kept thrusting, although somewhat reluctantly. When he felt his own orgasm approaching, his thrusts got more manic. Soon, his cum spurted inside of you, mixing with both your own juices and Fred cum. George slowly pulled out, while Fred picked your underwear up and slipped in back up your legs. He was determined to keep it all inside you.

Even if it didn't take the first time, you could always try again the next night.

[spiceofvy]

SKZ - Reader get's insecure during sex

cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, insecurities, body image issues, comfort, lots of praise, bottom reader (Minho), mirror sex (Minho), overstimulation (Jeongin), my Changbin bias is very obvious in this one

Chan: Kisses you softly after your confession. Worried about what made you feel that way. He feels so sad that someone or something in your past made you so insecure, that you even feel uncomfortable around him. Wants to make sure you don't ever feel like that again. "Let me take your mind off it, I promise I will make you feel better." From now on whenever you have sex he spends a ton of time complimenting you and caressing your body. Worshiping you, holding you close as he tells you again and again how lucky he is to get to see you in such a vulnerable position.

Minho: when you tell him he is taken aback a bit. He loves you so much, so he can't understand how you could not love yourself. "Can we try something? I wanna show you how beautiful you are." as he pulls you in front of his mirror, and fucks you in front of it. Making you look at yourself as you cum. Holding your face tightly so you can't break eye contact with yourself. After he is finished he carries you to the bathtub and slowly washes you body, whispering sweet praise into your shoulders.

Changbin: This man does not allow any kind of insecurities in his bedroom. He will worship it all out of your system. He lays you out in front of him and starts kissing every piece of skin. Every curve or angle. Every knuckle, every spot. While whispering the sweetest words into your ear. Calling you pet names. Tells you how beautiful you are to him. How perfect. How grateful he is to be able to touch you. And touching you he does. He probably makes you cum during so. And afterward, he holds you, not caring if he came too. He holds you and kisses your temple, promising the world to you. "So pretty. So perfect. My stunning love. I will not let you believe that you are anything but beautiful."

Hyunjin: He looks you dead in the eyes and pulls out his sketchbook showing all the stunning pieces of art he did inspired by you. Portraits of you with intricate sketches and watercolors are all so beautiful that it takes your breath away. "Would you call my art ugly too? Then why do you insult my muse like that?" He then makes some very slow love with you. Whispering in your ear how he hopes to someday draw you in a situation like this too.

Jisung: "Noooo babe, you're too hot to be insecure." He tries to pull a joke to put you into a better mindset. But in reality he is so heartbroken because he loves you so much and he wants you to always feel like the amazing person you are. Kisses you for a long time as you slowly makes love to you. He softly touches you all over you body, caressing your skin, telling you all his favorite parts of your body. Which are to no surprise: all of them.

Felix: He looks so devastated. He knows how terrible body image issues feel and to know that you feel like that too, it breaks his heart. He believes that you are too amazing to go through stuff like that, and that the world is so unfair to make you feel like that. Bites back some tears as he holds you tightly. "Please don't ever question your beauty." You have a deep conversation about insecurities, and how to deal with them. Afterwards he starts kissing you softly, and you making out turns into slow sex again.

Seungmin: He understands how you feel. He struggled with insecurities before and so he puts everything he has into making sure you can feel better. He whispers soft compliments into your skin as he slowly pushes you over the edge. During aftercare he wraps you in your favorite blanket and as he feeds you snacks he tells you about how he overcame his own insecurities. "You are the most beautiful person in this world, believe me please."

Jeongin: Oh sweet soft boy. He takes it slow. Pressing kisses to your skin. Holding you softly. He tells you how amazing you look to him. How lucky he is to have you. As he slowly kisses down your body. Whispering love into your thighs, looking up to you like you're the world. "Please let me show you just how beautiful I think you are." He makes you cum a lot that night. Whispering the softest words into your ear as he slowly pushes you into overstimulation.

[u3pxx]

PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

[livelaughlovesubs]

can i pls request sub ayato :<<<< just the thought of him getting teased by m! dom reader :,)

I’m so sorry dear, I don’t do male reader. Best I can do is gender neutral :<

Dom!reader x sub!ayato

Warning: body worship (?), teasing, fluffy and maybe cheesy :D

“You are so impatient today, my love.” You said, sitting on the edge of the bed while ayato was climbing onto your lap. He smiled when he felt your hands grabbing his waist, holding him gently. It made him feel so good whenever you touched him. With a soft tug, you made him sit down completely. Then you pulled him closer, until the boy was only inches apart from you.

“Are you sure i’m the impatient one?” Ayato asked, he wore a calm expression, the poker face he always had. But the corners of his eyes were softer. You leaned forwards and pressed your face against his tummy, hands now wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Maybe, i just cant resist you.” While your face was still pressed against his skin, you whispered those words. Your breath tackled him slightly, and his heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, you moved your head up, still rubbing your face against his torso. The difference was, now you started spreading kisses along his body. With careful movements, as if he was oh so breakable, you painted his body with your lips. Kissing him from his belly all the way up until you reached his chest. Your hands also wandered upwards with you, fingertips gently brushing over his spine, tracing the line on his back. His arms wrapped around your neck and you heard him gasp. A shaky breath left him soon after, as well as him resting his chin on your head.

“Such a pretty boy, arent you?” You complimented him, hands leaving his back and instead going to his sides. There was no answer to your seemingly obvious question. Your touch was still tender, and he squirmed a little. Just like before, you traced his sides, this time kneading his skin and muscles. Running your hands up and down his body, worshiping his hips and body. He could also feel one of your hands on his thighs, caressing him like always.

A blush covered his flustered face, the confident smile from before slowly breaking. His lips twitched a little, and he bit down on his bottom lip. “So adorable, my darling.” Such a devil you were, so seductive and loving. He mastered the art of composure years ago, it has worked for all these years, then you just had to come and ruin it. Whenever it involved you, no matter how hard he tried, he’d end up as putty in your hands. So unfair.. your are making his hard work seem like a joke.

You leaned back suddenly, and he stopped resting his chin against you. Ayato looked at you, his pretty eyes brightened when you gazed at him too. The smile you showed him made his heart fill up with warmth, he wanted to tear it out of his chest. It felt so good it hurt, how much he adored and loved you. After a while, he started staring at you with a little pout. Eyes hesitantly searching for your intentions, it was difficult to read you. You were just glancing at him and holding him, so he uttered confused, “aren’t you going to continue?” With the brightest grin he’s ever seen, you said, “i will, i just had to appreciate how beautiful you were.”

This was worse than dealing with any opponents, because you werent playing fair at all. He was already a blushing, stuttering mess while you kept on praising and teasing him. Normally compliments didnt make him feel like this, because he thought he has gotten used to it. But now, here you were, proving him wrong.

Ayato averted his gaze, hiding his face behind his palms. “Dont.. look.” He needed a moment to compose himself, a time out, give him a minute..! “Aww, i cant look? But i want to.” You replied, squeezing his hips a little. “Uh-ughh…!” The male yelped and jerked forwards, body shuddering a little. All he could hear afterwards was your laughing. “You…!” He couldnt finish his sentence, when you pulled him closer again.

You held him in your embrace, hugging and cuddling him. How can he possibly be mad at you when you’re being so soft? Though skeptical, he returned your actions once again. That turned out to be a mistake. In the split of a second, you turned him around. His small frame now laying on the mattress and legs around your waist. A short breathed whine left him, “ah..!” It was like a surprised yelp. Those gorgeous blue locks of his were spread over the bed, and his face was even redder than before.

“I guess you were right, i am impatient.” With a single sentenced, you managed to make him speechless. Enough for him to tremble and look at you through heart shaped eyes.

[ushys]

⸻ miles morales as your boyfriend (earth 1610)

a/n: omfg the chokehold this gif has on me- anyway you guys do not understand how much love i have for this sweet boy 🥹 deserves the world idc idc.

- fluff, no nsfw bc he is a minor, afab reader (lmk if you guys want gn, male)

MILES LOVES drawing you. you’re perfect in his eyes and he could draw only you for all of eternity and he wouldn’t complain at all. everything about you was beautiful to him and he made sure he captured every beautiful detail you have on to his drawings.

MILES is the type to send you cute (your favorite animal) videos on tiktok because he knows how much you love em and all he wants to do is to make you happy.

WILL introduce you to his family and is happy when he finds out how easily you and his parents got along. you got along with his mom so well that sometimes you’d visit their house and mostly talk ‘chisme’ with her the entire time (he gets jealous-)

AFTER an argument, he stops by your window and drops you off flowers with a little cute note apologizing. he doesn’t know if you would want to see him at that moment so he gives you time to cool off and give you some space. he replies immediately if you were to call or text him ready to talk again due to how much he hates wasting time not talking to you.

HE likes showing you off to anyone. his friends? yes. his family? yes. strangers on the street? yes. he can’t help it if he’s madly in love.

WHEN he revealed to you that he was spider-man, he was scared that you were going to be mad at him for keeping this a secret from him for a very long time. he thought that you were going to think that he didn’t “trust” you but when you were actually ecstatic finding out instead of upset, his worries all vanished as he smiled and hugged you.

WILL have a whole playlist dedicated to you. he likes to listen to that playlist when you aren’t with him, yk so he could daydream.

IS completely oblivious when you’re jealous. if you catch him talking to another girl who is clearly into him, you’d be upset in which miles would ask you about but you would just mumble “it’s nothing”. hearing this, miles thinks back to the entire morning wondering if he did something to make you upset. when you finally tell him, he quickly reassures you and says “i don’t feel anything towards any other girl who isn’t you. i love you and only you ma.”

IF it’s late at night and you can’t fall asleep, miles would come over with his spider-man suit on and picks you up, and swings to different buildings. then, you guys would land on a rooftop with a clear and beautiful view of the city at night and by the edge you guys would sit down, while miles pulls you in close to him, head on his shoulder, admiring the sight of the skyline. “it’s so pretty” you say. “not as pretty as you cariño”

MILES used to think that pet names were lowk cringey, but when he started dating you, everything changed. now, he calls you “mi amor” “baby” “my love” “cariño” “preciosa” “babe”

HE can not flirt if he wanted to flirt on purpose. he gets awkward and shy like 🫣🫣 this one time before you guys started dating, he wanted to make a move on you by saying “hey y/n, a-are you fr-from tennessee? cause you’re the 1 f-for me- wait no that’s not right, wait what was it again? i u-uh never mind.” and he scurried off before you could even say anything. “the fuck-“

WHEN you guys go on the train, he would pull out his airpods and give you one of them while you guys listen to one of his playlists (ahem the playlist he made for you but shh you don’t know that.)

IF you don’t do graffiti art, miles will take you to one of his secret locations and teach you how to draw certain things and praises you for trying your best. once you get better at it, you guys start going to his secret location more often and you guys just spend hours spray painting.

LOVES LOVES LOVES cuddling with you. literally one of his favorite things to do with you. he loves just having you in his arms knowing you are safe and sound with him. your soft and warm skin making him wanting to fall asleep because of how comforting it feels to just have you there with him. what he loves the most is having your arms around him holding him close while his head lays on your chest, listening in to your heartbeat knowing you really are there with him and that you are his and he is yours.

TAKES random and silly pictures of you just to send them later to you after you guys hung out and texts you saying “this one is my favorite.”

HAS a picture of you on his lock screen and his home screen.

that’s all for today, im tired and imma go and day dream about this boy :p

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 18 Hyunjin — public sex // creampie

➥ idol!Hyunjin × gf!Reader summary: Hyunjin loves taking trains to visit all the small towns surrounding the city he lives in but what he loves even more is fucking his girlfriend in a train car with other passengers nearby. wc: 2.1k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, established relationship, sexual content (minors dni!): oral (m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names (baby girl, honey, angel, etc), public sex (sex on a train), reader is on top for most of it, sex in multiple locations, unprotected sex (just use protection lol), creampie, biting, and I think I got them all. Please let me know if I missed any! a/n: wHEW boy. This was fun to write because I had to imagine a train and then all the places you could have sex in a train lmao so that was fun. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms. Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @kosmoreads @yourfavoritefreakyhan Stray Kids taglist: @niktwazny303 @g4megirl @rapmonie2047 @indigo35 @witherednotes @cixrosie @fay-ebrahim Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

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"Hwang Hyunjin I swear to God," you hissed, dragging your boyfriend by the wrist into the small bathroom at the back of the train car. "Make this quick," you snapped as you locked the door.

Your boyfriend chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, but be careful what you wish for, baby," he purred, leaning in to kiss you.

[twenty minutes later]

"I can't believe you sometimes," you whispered as you sat back in your seat, Hyunjin taking his seat next to you with a very smug grin on his face. "Oh don't act like you don't love it," Hyunjin replied, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You love this shit just as much as I do."

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide the smirk that started to form on your lips. He was right. Ever since you'd met and started dating, you learned that you and Hyunjin both got off on the idea of other people being able to see or hear the two of you being intimate.

Actually getting caught was mortifying as you both learned the hard way one day when Hyunjin's roommate came home early and walked in on the two of you in the kitchen, you bent over the counter and Hyunjin buried balls deep inside you.

Ever since then, you vowed to not actually get caught with your pants around your ankles so to speak but you both couldn't deny the thrill and rush of arousal that came with the potential of getting caught. Which is what drove Hyunjin to get you riled up, hands on your thighs, sneaking under your skirt while he whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to you until you couldn't stand it anymore and needed to have him fuck you.

The two of you had snuck off to the bathrooms because unfortunately the train was pretty full at this time of day. Hyunjin always picked the weekends for these trips to the more rural areas on the outskirts of Seoul but you weren't entirely complaining.

Exploring the areas was one of your favorite ways to spend time with Hyunjin. Especially when he found a place to sit down and start drawing. You'd spent hours watching him create all sorts of art. He loved painting, especially flowers and landscapes. He'd started sketching people recently and you loved watching him work.

The way his brow would furrow as he focused on the rough lines on the paper and the way his teeth would catch his tongue as he worked. It was subtle but he looked absolutely adorable when he made that face but over-all, he was stunning when he entered his artist mode. And after finishing his work, he'd always turn his attention to you and shower you with affection.

There had been more than a few times the two of you had sit down for him to paint a sunset only to become entranced with you halfway through and needed to be inside you. You'd lost count of how many times you'd had sex in an empty field or on a secluded beach.

Hyunjin was insatiable for both art and you and you'd be lying if you said you weren't just as insatiable for him but he definitely brought it out in you. Before him, your days were full of work, binge TV and quiet nights in but meeting Hyunjin was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to you. He changed your life for the better.

You were brought out of your thoughts by Hyunjin's hand resting on your thigh. Your eyes dropped to his hand and back up to his face. He wasn't looking at you, instead his eyes were fixed on the window beside you, watching the scenery fly by.

You turned to look out the window and noticed that while you were lost in your thoughts the train had stopped and quite a few people had gotten off so there were less people than before.

You continued to turn your head to look out the window as the scenery zipped by in a blur of color. You knew it was sometime in the evening and your stop was coming up soon.

Hyunjin had taken you to a small fishing town north and west of the city and the two of you had spent the majority of the day exploring the town, eventually making your way to the beach where you found all sorts of sea glass and even ran into a couple sea critters.

Hyunjin had of course sat down on some rocks to rough sketch the view before needing to drag you behind the rocks and out of sight of the beach to have his way with you.

He'd followed behind you as you went from shop to shop on the main street and stall to stall in the city market, finding all sorts of trinkets and excitedly showing them to him.

It wasn't long after you left the market with a few presents that Hyunjin found a small cove in an alleyway and pulled you into it, diving under your skirt, ravishing you with his tongue, and then stumbling back onto the street like nothing happened.

It continued like that throughout the day until you finally boarded the last train back to the city as the sun started to set.

You squeezed your thighs together as images of all the intimate moments of the day flooded your mind and Hyunjin couldn't help but notice your muscle tense under his hand.

He could only wonder what was going through your mind.

You felt his thumb caress circles against the skin of your thigh that was exposed to him. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he whispered, lips brushing against the outside of your ear, making you shiver as his breath fanned over your skin.

"Just the day," you admitted softly. Hyunjin hummed in response. "Did you have fun?" he asked, reaching up to brush some of your hair back. You nodded, looking out the window, a calm and serene feeling blanketing you as the scenery outside grew darker.

"Wanna know what I'm thinking about?" Hyunjin whispered in your ear, a hint of amusement to his voice. "What's that?" you replied. "You," Hyunjin said breathlessly. "On top of me."

Your cheeks burned as you turned your head away from your boyfriend. "How pretty you sounded earlier at the beach. How no one could hear us over the waves," he added, hand on your thigh moving up slowly. "How you begged me to fill you up and paint your insides with my cum."

Your walls clenched around nothing as he spoke. He had a talent for working you up with his words and light touches on your body. "And then the alley when you let me eat you like I would never have another meal again. God," he groaned softly, taking your hand and placing it over his crotch where you could feel his erection.

"I love the way you taste. It's my favorite taste in the world."

You held back a whimper as his hand snuck under your skirt, fingers dangerously close to your center where he would find you wet and ready to take his cock. "I could eat you out for hours," Hyunjin whispered, lips ghosting over your cheek and down to your neck.

"I could fuck you for hours."

A soft whimper left your lips as his fingers finally made contact, feeling your panties already wet and sticky, a smirk forming on his face. "So wet already? What were you really thinking about, baby girl?" You leaned into him as his hand slipped under your panties, finger finding your entrance and sliding in.

You bit into your bottom lip, turning your head to hide your face in his neck as he set a slow and steady pace, pumping his finger in and out of your warm cunt. "Gotta be quiet for me," he whispered as he picked up speed, adding a second finger.

You grabbed his wrists as he stopped, plunging as deep as he could reach and curling his fingers up against your sweet spot, making your thighs shake and clench around his hand.

"That's my good girl," Hyunjin whispered. "Be quiet, sweetheart."

Your hand on his crotch started palming him through his pants, wanting to make him feel as good as he was making you feel. "Hyunjin," you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to curl his fingers inside you, trying to coax your orgasm out of you.

"Shh, angel," he murmured. "I know it feels good, but you have to be quiet for me." You held back a moan, burying your face in his neck and spreading your legs slightly. "Mmm you're such a naughty girl, spreading your legs for me like a little slut," he growled under his breath. "Just for that, I should bend you over in front of everyone here and teach you a lesson."

You quickly undid Hyunjin's pants, tucking your hand under the waistband of his underwear and taking his cock in your hand. He held back a moan as you started to stroke him quickly. "Keep doing that," he warned. "And I'll fuck you right here and now."

Your grip on his cock didn't cease, instead you moved faster, shifting in your seat to drop some of your spit on the tip of his cock, gathering it with your hand and using it as lubricant. "Shit," you heard him curse softly. "Get on my lap, quickly."

You shook your head, instead peering over the back of the seat in front of you to find the car mostly empty now. You leaned over, taking Hyunjin's length in your mouth, sinking down quickly to let the head slip into your throat and forcing a choked moan out of your boyfriend that he muffled with his fist.

You pulled back to take a breath but continued to bob your head up and down, tasting the salty precum mixed with your own saliva. "Oh fuck," Hyunjin hissed. "Either you let me cum down your throat and don't get off until we get home or you sit on my cock and let me fuck you full of my cum."

You pulled off him with a soft pop, smiling at him as you sat up straight. Hyunjin was quick, making you lift up and scooting under you. He pulled your panties halfway down your thighs and grabbed your hips, pulling you back and letting out a sigh as you sank back onto his cock. You dropped your head, keeping a firm grip on the seat in front of you as Hyunjin bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt inside your hot cunt.

"Shit," you heard Hyunjin curse softly. "'M not gonna last long, honey," he murmured into your shoulder. You purposely clenched around him, your pussy squeezing his cock nicely and pushing him towards the edge. "Do that again and I'll fucking ruin this pretty little pussy," he growled in your ear.

A shiver ran up your back as Hyunjin grabbed your waist and lifted you off him just enough to thrust up into you. Your fingers dug into the cushion of the seat in front of you as your boyfriend snapped his hips up to meet your ass, driving his cock deeper into you.

"Oh shit, shit, shit," you whined softly, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to move. "Feels so good," you moaned. "Feel so full." Hyunjin let out a groan, cock twitching inside your cunt. "'M gonna fuck you so full, baby. Fill your pussy with my cum until it spills out. Gonna make a mess," he grunted, hips hitting your ass sharply.

"Fuck, fill me up, Hyunjin," you whimpered. "Cum inside me."

Your walls clenched once more, driving both you and Hyunjin over the edge and his teeth sank into your shoulder as he came, his hot load painting your insides as you sank onto him, your thighs trembling as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

After a few minutes, Hyunjin lifted your hips, his soft cock falling out of you and scooted back to his seat, putting himself back in his underwear and zipping his pants back up as you pulled your panties back up and confined his cum inside.

"You're so pretty," he said suddenly, reaching out to caress your cheek that was still warm. "God I love you so much," he added softly, leaning over to kiss you. "I can't wait to get home and go again," he said with a cheeky grin as you pulled back.

"You just came," you said incredulously, in awe at the sheer audacity of your boyfriend to be ready to go for another round when you just finished. His smile widened, kissing you again.

"I already told you, baby," he replied softly.

"I could fuck you for hours."

[towards-toramunda]

Thinking about more iconic lines from the show over the years instead of going to bed and created a list that is far too long:

- What’s my mother’s name?

- My best. Finally.

- I have so many flowers to bring to her.

- You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it.

- Don’t get on my ass about it! All I heard is that its pretty easy to do here thats all I took from what you said. (Bonus: its for the god of arts and crafts)

- At dawn, we plan.

- Doo doot doo doo doot doooo donuts!

- What matters more, the dream or the dreamer?

- Sleep well with your bad decisions.

- Nothing happens for a reason. It’s absolute fucking chaos.

- Patience is fine, but it can curdle into apathy.

- I’ve met the devil, thats not him.

- You never take copper. That's just kicking someone while they're down. You take silver if they're an asshole, and you take gold regardless.

- Time is one of my specialties.

- It’s entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are.

- How lucky I am to have had all of you. How lucky indeed.

- I smell like a crayon.

- I could tell by the bone structure and the contempt.

- I think I can punch ghosts now.

- Big moon, little moon.

- Pop, pop!

- I need chaos. I have faith in chaos.

- Molly said not to steal from happy people.

- I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father.

- Smiley day to ya!

- I killed my family, I’ll throw you under a bridge.

- We’re on the moon bitch.

- She throws it. I shoot it. It explodes! NO STRUCTURAL DAMAGE! (FLUFFERNUTTER)

- I am all for faith, and I'm not going to pick a god. They can pick me. It'll be the first one that actually praises me and then maybe I'll fucking answer. I'll wait. They can fucking beg. And I will listen, which is more than they ever fucking did.

- I would like to RAGE!

- The worst thing that has happened to me has already happened.

- We're running; it's bad.

- You can reply to this message.

- Dagger, dagger, dagger.

- Opinions are like opera. Sure, you can listen to them, but why would you, really?

- There is no god that strides this world that I worship more than I worship your heart.

- I would like to live long enough to be someone else.

- Help, its again.

- Whoever it was, just put it back. I think they've earned it. Put it back.

- I’m fun scary.

- Sorry, babe. Gotta handle these ninjas.

- I’m the cleric? I’ve never traveled with a bunch of people I thought would die in front of me.

- He thinks I’m gonna go into the water for some fucking buttons.

- You are, at the moment, the luckiest person in Whitestone. Do you know why? Because you’re at the bottom of my list.

- You need me more than I need you.

- I protect him. He’s my boy. And I keep him safe.

- I made the earth remember him.

- Come correct or get corrected.

- Do not go far from me.

- Are you worth saving?

- How do I want to do this?

- Heaven to some, and hell to others.

- Fix him!

- Why do we tell stories?

- Do you spice?

- Listen you fucking jungle! I'm a paladin of the Wildmother. You're going to move or we're going to bust you wide open! We'll wreck this place. Don't make me fucking tell you twice!

- I am your god, long may I rein, eat of my fruits.

- Anybody can make lights. Anybody could send a message through a wire. I want to bend reality to my will.

- Would you like to talk before or after?

- What the fuck is up with that?

- To reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be beneath you! And I'm beneath nobody.

- The one eyed monster slayed my pussy.

- Time is a weird soup.

- I’m killing someone. Hold, please.

- Gold is a resource by which mortaldom climbs.

- Why are you so mean to me?

- Yours is the face I saw when murder entered my heart.

- This one time I saw a bug carrying a piece of bread that was like five times its size and he was carrying upstairs, like up and then he would turn, and then up, and then he would turn.

- I live as long as Whitestone lives.

- Vox Machina! Fuck shit up!

- I’m not disappointed, I’m just angry.

- Someone prayed for a miracle and there you were.

- We don't leave people behind. That's just the rule. You do not leave people the fuck behind.

- Call me child one more goddamned time!

- Finish it, Champion.

- I am of the Empire. But I am no friend to the Empire.

- I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone to mourn you when you are gone.