#kinda fic anyway

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie's only at the club because it's Gareth's 21st birthday, so they're all finally old enough to party the night away, so they are. Eddie is pleasantly tipsy when he spots a man that has his mouth salivating.

Hair fluffed up high and swept back, leaving his ridiculously handsome face on display, though the look on his face can only be called a grimace, as if this club is beneath him and he can't believe he's here. Well-toned arms, which are crossed over his chest, causing the crop top he's wearing to hug his broad shoulders deliciously. He's wearing jean shorts so short Eddie thinks they might actually be considered publicly indecent. Legs for days.

Eddie drags his eyes back up the guy and realizes he's been caught staring. Hottie is looking back.

Then, incredibly, Hottie lifts a hand and waves him over. Eddie looks around him, because surely, he's not meaning Eddie, before looking back to Hottie and pointing at himself. Hottie doesn't nod, but he does the 'come here' wave again and Eddie has to.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks when he's close enough to not have to yell.

Hottie shrugs and says, "I just wanted to see if you'd obey."

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Merlin: *says something almost flirty as part of their usual banter*

Arthur: Don’t tease, Merlin.

Merlin, still joking around: It’s only a tease if you have feelings, Sire.

Arthur, really not having a good day: …Don’t tease, Merlin,

[hahahalfwit]

I HATE MIRROR MIRROR IM GOIGN TO FROW UP

[thirstywaffles]

Got bored and doodled older Pevensies

[blushedfemme]

toxic yuri where the femme is kinda sleazy and predatory and the butch is a wholesome goody two shoes. star athlete, straight As. bright-eyed and sincere. always bakes their famous chocolate chip cookies for the big game. the femme wears too much eye makeup and perfume and rolls her own. they’re hard and scary and crack rude jokes to make the butch blush. their skirts are too short and their neckline plunging.

the butch just wants to be good. the femme wants to ruin her. and the femme knows how to get what she wants, one way or another

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

[garfield-milk]

he’s such a fangirl. he definitely has a few scrolls of adventures (and fanfiction) of the Blue Spirit and reads them every night while giggling and kicking his feet in the air.

[infernal-lamb]

more doodles, since I've been so busy! Sketched out Shamura finally....along with exploring the idea that Shamura's prophecies also appeared in abstract webs they've weaved along the years....I think its just Neat(tm)

also: when ur vessel keeps dying just to stare at you with unyielding saucer-like eyes filled with an indescribable bloodlust silently. just fucked up lamb things

[shrimphearted]

First image is based on this video by @jjkyaoi anyways i miss the belly of the beast arc </3

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[blackcathjp]

ppl seem to like the idea of harry courting draco or harry doing big public displays of affection to ask him out (think promposals). but i feel like he'd be so awkward at dating. he doesn't quite know what to do with or show physical and emotional affection, the weasleys give him bad advice on romance, he's also oblivious when ppl are interested in him.

what he does have is earnestness and determination - he makes the first move on accident, just bursts out his feelings, brave and embarrassed.

draco knows all about courting and respects tradition, but he's not the type to make the first move (not anymore at least, not like when he was a kid, where running to his parents for safety and comfort was a luxurious option). he's calculating and weighs his options - what if he confesses but harry doesn't like him? what if he confesses and harry DOES like him? what if harry likes him, but doesn't like dating him? he's more hesitant and guarded with his feelings, but is more likely to show his affection towards loved ones.

harry asks him out in the middle of a conversation, just because he loves watching how passionate draco gets about something he loves. even after weeks of dating, draco insists on courting him the "proper way", showering him with gifts, writing letters that make harry blush, leaving loving post-its all over harry's home and work desk, delivering anonymous flowers, publicly asking if he can escort harry home (they're both embarrassed). he's touchy feely too, which harry isn't used to, but physical contact becomes easy and second nature now with draco. harry doesn't quite get the courting, yet still loves it.

harry: you already have me, draco 😊😆

draco: i still want to woo you though 🥹😤

[aerknight]

@naffeclipse orcas beach themselves to hunt seals orca!eclipse beaches themself to hunt y/n :)

[yukipri]

Spar, Alpha-Ø2, Mand’alor the Resurrector.

My take on this super fascinating if somewhat obscure character from Legends! A clone with Jango Fett’s memories, who escaped Kamino to become leader of a faction of Mandalorians.

I’ve been exploring him a lot in my fic, the Prime Override, and I wanted to give him a shot visually. His appearance here is specific to my fic, where his story diverges considerably from Legends, so there are a couple of details that don’t match that of any of the three official illustrations that exist of him. But the changes are intentional! I still hope he’s recognizable 😅

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REUPLOAD, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!

❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

mary, lily and narcissa as the iconic blondes from the early 00’s who didn’t get the wlw ending they deserved

i tried to make this as slay-girlie-serving-cunt as possible LMAO (i’ve now grown an attachment to hot pink)

(this is not marls erasure i promise i love her but i *had* to include cissa as regina)

[junkanimate]

I read "Koffee Shop Kombat" by @loujitsushotsoup and this little inteaction in the first chapter is so cute actually, I HAD to draw it.

[rintoki]

moo moo milk

characters: gepard x dom!reader

cw: gepard’s giant tiddies

a/n: he sent me the one message about what drinks i’d like to try. yea that’s all. i want to suck his tiddies that’s all. sorry if bad haven’t written long time

“ah, geppie, remember when you asked me what other belobogian drinks i’d like to try? i think i know what i want to try now.”

“right, right now?” the blonde man stuttered out, his face a crimson red even just after a few kisses.

“yup,” you smiled joyfully, one hand resting on the table behind the man you have trapped against you, and the other resting on his broad chest. now stripped down to just his undershirt and pants, gepard’s defined body was much more visible. the thin material of his undershirt stretching to cover his chest, even then it was still very much exposed to your hungry eyes.

“uhm, sure. what would you like to try? i’ll be sure to get it for you.” the kind-natured man smiled, ready to oblige you despite the state you have him in—breathing heavily and needy for you.

and with a smile, the hand that rests on his chest begins to drift downwards, feeling the curve of his pecs, before resting on the underside and cupping your hand against his breast. gepard stiffens under your motions, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously as the heat of your hand begins to seep through the fabric, warming his now hardening nipple.

his lips tremble slightly, unsure of how to act now as his breathing gets heavier under your touch and his pants gets tighter. you smile even wider, pleased by his reaction to a simple touch your hand gently squeezes around his tit, relishing in the way his hard nipple brushes against your palm.

“i want…” you began.

gepard let’s put a staggered breath now, unable to contain it any longer. his cock strains in his pants, finding it rather embarrassing how worked up you’ve got him from a few touches. he shuts his eyes, trying to keep a handle on himself before he completely crumbles, but your quiet voice beside his ear only pushes further to the edge.

“… to try your milk, geppie.”

it takes him a moment to register your words, still too caught up with your touches. “my… my milk?”

“from here.” you give his chest another squeeze, this time letting your thumb roll over his protruding buds. gepard sucks in a sharp breath, his abdomen quivering as you began to tease his nipples.

“i can’t—i don’t, i can’t …lactate… i don’t have m-milk.” he barely gets the words out, unable to help how his chest unconsciously pushes out, as if begging to have it teased more.

“are you sure? i think we should try.”

and before he knew it, you’ve already pushed his undershirt up, resting it on the tops of his chest with both his tits exposed to you now with his hardened nipples poking out at you, asking to be sucked on.

gepard can’t hold back the gasp he lets out, nor the low whine when your warm mouth envelops one of his nipples, slippery tongue massaging his sensitive buds. his hands gripped the table behind him, knowing it was taking his all and the table to keep him from falling to his knees.

you alternate between flicking and sucking on his nipple, your teeth biting down gently on the flesh around it, as if urging his milk to come out. and on the other side your hand continues to stimulate his chest, massaging and rolling his nipple between your fingers, getting it ready to be taken into your mouth.

“a-ah! wait..! that’s too…n-nngh.. s’ sensitive there, p-please…”

you looked up from your position, and with lips still wrapped tightly around his tits you took in the view. gepard’s skin was flushed all the way down his neck, he had leaned his head back, mouth hanging open as quiet whimpers fell from his lips.

so gorgeous, you released his nipple, watching as his body jolts with every lick you give it. his hitched breath as you sucked on the other side, warming it between your lips, you could feel it between your legs, an aching need beginning to pool.

even the way the bulge in his pants pressed against your belly, you know he isn’t even aware of how his own hips buck against your tummy, begging for some kind is stimulation. but you leave it be, knowing it isn’t long for his release. you can hear it in his voice, in his breath, even in the way his grip on the table tightens further.

you know it better than him, when you roll his sensitive nipple gently between you teeth, swollen from all the sucking. that his body would go completely stiff, hips and abdomen trembling from the intense pleasure as his mouth hang open with silent moans.

a damp patch begins to grow on the crotch of his pants, seeping into the fabric of your shirt. “you came a lot.”

gepard flinches slightly, cheeks growing even redder at your observation. “i… i apologise, i didn’t mean to dirty your clothes. forgive me.” he whispers, still a little out of breath.

“hm, don’t apologise, i don’t mind it one bit. it seems like you enjoyed that a lot, huh?” your fingers roll over the swollen buds, watching how he jolts with every touch.

“y-yes, it was quite… it felt good.” gepard smiles, moving to wrap his arms around you now.

“i didn’t manage to get any of your milk though, i think we’ll have to try again next time,” a cheeky smile forms on your face, “and next time, i think i have just the tool to help us get it.”

the silvermane captain sighs, a furious blush on his face as you mention wanting his milk again. for whatever reason it causes him to be aroused as you spoke about it, he didn’t want to think about it now.