#stutter something profound

[hotelstares]

the way i just burst into tears. thank you so so much, i can’t believe this. this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me and ik that sounds dramatic as fuck, but i’m serious. thank you so much ily 🫂❤️

Stooooooppppp. You're gonna make me cry. You're so very welcome!

Gonna ramble for a second, just bear with me, okay? Obviously, I keep to myself in this fandom, but I've always appreciated just how genuine and sweet you are. Everyone is welcomed and treated so kindly on your blog. You are such a safe space in this community, and I love seeing you on my dash. It's no wonder people are drawn to you and want to be your friend. Your vibe is vibrant and sugar-sweet, and you deserve only the best things, Aerie. I truly mean that. I hope your birthday is as lovely as you are! And Nick better post something today for you tbqh.

Happy birthday, Aerie! 🎂

[hyruling]

number 50 for the prompts! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

—

“You’re staring.”

He is. Has been, all night, and apparently finally been caught.

They’re in the kitchen, again, and Buck is watching him, flushed from the alcohol they’ve been drinking and the exertion of the game of charades that got a little too rowdy. Everyone else is in the living room, clustered around Bobby like a herd of elephants protecting their young, and when Buck got up to refill the snacks Eddie unfolded himself from the armchair and followed.

So yeah, he’s been staring. As if it’s his fault. Buck is wearing that cardigan that pulls tight across his chest and makes his eyes look stupidly blue. He’s forgone any hair product, curls bouncy and so touchable it’s been driving him crazy all night. And Bobby is in his house, something he thought he’d never get to see again. Chris is home, tucked away in his room with Denny and Mara and probably Jee, entertaining themselves away from the embarrassing adults. The world is right again, and pleasantly fuzzy from all the wine Karen’s been plying him with all night.

And Buck. He’s already mentioned the cardigan, and the hair, but Buck has been in his element tonight. Full of laughter, the spirit Eddie was worried had been broken forever repaired and thriving. He’s been fluttering around the house, refilling drinks and serving food with a bright smile that he can’t get enough of.

Buck’s glancing over at him now, hands busy with re-plating a charcuterie board. He has a soft smile just for Eddie, and it makes him a little nauseous with how painfully in love with him he is. How stupid he’s been to have wasted so much time pretending he wasn’t.

“Earth to Eddie?” Buck says, grin widening into something teasing.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, settling against the counter behind him while Buck works at the island. He fiddles with his wineglass, nearly empty, and watches Buck cut up a block of gouda cheese. He’s pushed the sleeves of the cardigan to his elbows, forearms flexing, and Eddie can’t quite make himself look away.

“I said you’re staring,” Buck repeats with a little laugh. “Did you follow me in here just to watch, or are you gonna help?”

“I’m fine right here,” Eddie answers, delighting in Buck’s eye roll, the blush that creeps into his cheeks. “It’s a good view.”

Buck goes crimson, drops the block of cheddar he’d been about to slice. “Eddie. You can’t say that kind of shit when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Why?” Eddie teases, and the back of Buck’s neck turns red. Not for the first time, Eddie wonders how far it spreads. “Does it make you flustered, Buckley?”

He knows it does. But that certainty was hard earned, having spent weeks agonizing over living in such close quarters with Buck, telling himself all kinds of stories about why his heart raced when their hands brushed over the coffee pot, convinced Buck must not feel the same way. Until his tía had walloped him upside the head, metaphorically speaking, a few weeks in and told him to lock Buck down before it was too late.

In her own words, of course.

He suspects she had a similar conversation with Buck, given the way he’d come inside after seeing her to her car, red-faced and avoiding Eddie’s eyes. They’d stuttered and tiptoed around each other for a few days before settling back into their normal, which Eddie had finally come to realize was not most people’s normal.

“I—shut up,” Buck says, and picks up the cheese.

But now that he’s started, he can’t help himself. Fueled by three and a half glasses of wine, and the profound joy that’s bursting to spill out of his ribcage, he inches closer until his hip presses into the island right next to Buck.

Buck goes briefly rigid but recovers quickly — Eddie wouldn’t even have noticed the slip if he wasn’t watching him so closely. He keeps slicing cheese methodically, eyes fixed determinedly on his hands.

“Looking a little flushed there, bud,” Eddie says. “Too much wine?”

Buck huffs and flushes harder. “I only had two glasses. What’s that, your fourth?”

“You monitoring my drinking?” Eddie asks, and Buck chuckles.

“Only cause I know you’ll have a massive headache later,” Buck replies. “Good thing I stocked up on Excedrin last week.”

He finishes the cheese and starts in on some sausage, unwrapping it from the plastic, and Eddie can’t resist.

“Nice sausage you got there.”

Buck chokes on spit and drops the knife, turning to face Eddie at last. “Eddie. What is this?”

“What?” Eddie asks innocently. He’s too drunk to properly flirt, never flirted with a man before and is rusty nonetheless; but Buck is responding beautifully, in a way that he knows only he could tease out of him.

“You’re complimenting my sausage?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s a nice one, that’s all. Thick, firm. I’d like to taste it—”

Buck’s hand covers his mouth, cutting him off, and his blood sings from the contact, from Buck flush against him, so close he could count his eyelashes. He barely resists the urge to lick his hand.

“Eddie,” Buck says in a low, plaintive voice that’s doing nothing to calm down his dick, which is not uninterested in the sudden lack of personal space. “You gotta—you know what you’re doing. Don’t—don’t be mean.”

And that—he knows then that they’re not on equal footing, that Buck is still operating under the illusion that Eddie’s not attainable, not already his. That the uptick in Eddie’s heated stares, his hand on Buck’s lower back while he’s cooking, the hip checks at the bathroom sink, have not communicated as clearly as he thought how much he wants this.

So Eddie nods, still silenced by Buck’s hand, and purses his lips until Buck can feel them against his palm. Buck snags it back like he’s been burned, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says softly. He picks up Buck’s hand and presses another kiss to his knuckles, keeping his eyes fixed on Buck’s. “I do know what I’m doing.”

Buck looks lost, staring at him the way he had when Eddie appeared amongst the rubble and dust weeks ago — like he’s a ghost, like he’d never seen him before.

“A-are you sure? Because Eddie, I can’t—”

Eddie closes the scant distance between them, catches Buck’s jaw in one hand, and kisses him.

Buck doesn’t kiss him back at first, frozen in Eddie’s gentle grip — and then he’s making a soft, hurt sound and pulling Eddie closer, hands immediately snaking under his shirt to find the skin of Eddie’s back. His head spins when Buck’s tongue teases at his lips, and he tastes like wine and salt and—

“Buckaroo, what’s the hold up—oh.”

Buck rips away, putting nearly a foot of space between them, and Eddie laughs, giddy. Chim looks like the cat who got the cream when he turns around, face split into a wide grin.

“Whatcha doing gentlemen?” he asks with a snap his gum, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Buck sputters behind him, but Eddie just shrugs and leans back until he feels Buck’s chest pressed against his back.

“Nothing really. I was just asking Buck about his sausa—”

Buck’s hand slaps over Eddie’s mouth again, pulling him tighter against his chest with the move, and Chim howls out a laugh.

“I knew it!” he cries, clapping his hands together and spinning around. “Maddie! You owe me fifty bucks!”

“Hey!” Buck calls, but it’s too late — Chim’s gone.

Eddie does lick Buck’s hand then, and Buck releases him with a squeal. Eddie turns around and chuckles at Buck’s red face, staring at him helplessly. He can’t help but lean up to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, stroking over the other with a gentle thumb.

“We’re about to be swarmed,” Eddie says. He can already hear exclamations and shrieks coming from the living room and knows they have seconds before their little bubble is shattered. “I love you, and I mean it. And I really can’t wait to try your sausage.”

Buck snorts and drops his head to press against Eddie’s forehead, eyes brimming with what look like tears. Eddie thumbs a stray one away with the hand on his cheek. “Eddie, I—I love you so much, it’s—I—”

“What have we here?”

It’s Hen that breaks them apart this time. Buck’s smiling sheepishly over Eddie’s shoulder, and when Eddie turns, he sees at least four people trying to crowd in the doorway, the rest cloistered behind them in the dining room. Buck sighs, and drops a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head before beckoning them in.

“Alright. Get in here, you animals.”

Like a dam breaking their family descends, pouring into every nook and cranny, and Eddie swears his kitchen has never felt so warm.

—

prompts xo

[solxamber]

Ultimate Betrayal || Leona Kingscholar

You don’t remember how to breathe.

The walls are closing in, the air is thick, suffocating—choking you with the weight of a betrayal so profound that your very soul threatens to collapse in on itself. Your knees give out before you even register the sensation, hitting the floor with a dull, hollow sound that echoes through the emptiness of your chest.

This can’t be happening.

Not him.

Not Leona.

Your vision blurs. Whether from unshed tears or the sheer magnitude of the heartbreak sinking its jagged claws into your ribs, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Not when the one person you trusted—trusted beyond reason, beyond instinct, beyond every shred of caution that should have warned you—has done this to you.

It was foolish. You should have known better. Leona Kingscholar was never a kind man. He was sharp edges and lazy smirks, a beast masquerading as something tame, something safe. He had warned you time and time again—mocking words, teasing glances, a sardonic lilt in his voice that should have set off alarms instead of making your heart stutter.

“I ain't the type to play fair.”

You had laughed then, brushing it off as yet another of his games.

But this—

This was no game.

This was ruin.

The floor beneath you tilts, the world spinning out of control as a chasm yawns wide in your chest, swallowing you whole. You don’t know how to rebuild from this. How to take the shattered remnants of your trust and piece them back together when the hands that broke them are the same ones that once held you steady.

He knew. He had to have known.

And yet he did it anyway.

You don’t even flinch when you hear him approach, his steps slow, deliberate, not a trace of remorse in his gait. You can feel his presence settle beside you, the warmth of him a cruel mockery of everything you once thought you had.

“You’re bein’ dramatic,” he drawls, a smirk in his voice.

Dramatic.

You turn to him slowly, the weight of your devastation pressing down on your shoulders like a death sentence. He doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. No hesitation, no regret—just that lazy, infuriating amusement that only twists the knife deeper.

“Leona,” your voice is barely a whisper, cracked and raw. “How could you?”

He stretches, completely unbothered. “Didn’t think you’d mind that much.”

Didn’t think—

You inhale sharply, your lungs burning with the effort. It takes everything in you not to break completely, not to crumple beneath the weight of what he’s stolen from you.

Your faith.

Your trust.

Your very will to go on.

“I was saving that,” you rasp, voice hollow, empty—an echo of everything you once were before this moment, before the fall, before him.

He quirks a brow, unrepentant. “Tasted good.”

And that’s it. The final blow. The killing strike.

You had loved him once. Perhaps you still do. But love cannot survive in the wake of devastation, in the ruins of something that was never meant to be broken. He has made his choice, and now you must make yours.

With a shaking breath, you rise to your feet, the cold settling deep in your bones.

You don’t look at him as you turn away, voice quiet but heavy with the weight of all that has been lost.

“I hope it was worth it.”

And with that, you leave him behind—leave behind the man who had so carelessly stolen your heart and, more importantly, your sandwich.

Happy April Fools!

[cutielando]

elegance in red | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which you attend the historical F175 event together

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

The evening air carried a crisp chill, but the warmth of excitement more than made up for it.

The grand unveiling of Ferrari’s F1-75 was an event that had the entire motorsport world abuzz, and tonight, you were walking into it on Charles Leclerc’s arm.

It still felt surreal, the way his fingers fit so perfectly through yours, the way his eyes held that quiet pride when he introduced you as his date for the night.

Dressed in a stunning red gown that effortlessly complemented the theme of the evening, you felt the weight of the cameras turning towards you both.

The fabric hugged your form in all the right ways, cascading down to the floor in soft, elegant waves.

Charles, ever the gentleman, had been stealing glances at you all evening, his admiration thinly veiled under the guise of casual conversation.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured against your ear, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You squeezed his hand in response, offering him a grateful smile.

“And you, Mr. Leclerc, look exceptionally handsome.”

Your eyes trailed over his tailored black tuxedo, the way it accentuated his athletic frame, the subtle Ferrari emblem peeking from beneath the lapel.

His grin was lopsided, charmingly so.

“I had to make sure I looked good next to the most beautiful woman here.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but before you could respond, a voice called Charles’ name, pulling his attention away momentarily. Reporters were lining up, eager to capture the drivers’ thoughts on the season ahead.

You expected Charles to slip away, but instead, he tugged you closer, his arm tightening around your waist.

“Stay with me?” he asked, voice laced with something vulnerable, something that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You nodded without hesitation, your voice soft as you replied.

“Always.”

♡♡♡♡♡

The press conference began with questions about the F1-75, its promising design, and Ferrari’s aspirations for the upcoming season. Charles answered with his usual poise, a confident yet humble air about him.

But every so often, he would glance at you, as if grounding himself in your presence.

At one point, a reporter turned his attention toward you.

“Charles, we’ve seen you bring special guests to events before, but tonight seems different. Care to introduce us properly?”

Charles’ lips curved into a knowing smile before he turned to you.

His green eyes held something intimate, something that made your heart pound.

“This is Y/N,” he said, voice steady but warm. “She’s… very special to me.”

The murmurs in the room swelled. You could feel the gazes of countless eyes, but none of it mattered, not when Charles was looking at you like that. Like you were the only person in the room.

You offered a gracious nod, keeping your composure even though your heart was hammering against your ribs.

“It’s an honor to be here tonight.”

The conference eventually wrapped up, and Charles wasted no time in whisking you away toward the more private sections of the event. The F1-75 stood proudly on display, bathed in dramatic lighting that highlighted its sleek, aggressive form.

You couldn’t help but admire it.

“It’s beautiful,” you mused, fingers itching to trace the contours of the machine before you.

Charles hummed in agreement, but when you turned to face him, his eyes weren’t on the car. They were on you.

“It is,” he murmured, his gaze soft.

Your breath hitched slightly.

“Charles—”

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he interjected, stepping closer until the world around you blurred into insignificance. “I know these events can be overwhelming.”

You shook your head, reaching up to smooth out the fabric of his lapel.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Something in his expression shifted, a tenderness so profound it made your stomach flip.

“You make everything better,” he admitted, his voice a whisper meant only for you. “Having you here… it makes all of this feel more real, more meaningful.”

The confession stole the air from your lungs. Before you could second-guess yourself, you rose onto your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

He exhaled, as if that single touch melted the weight of the night off his shoulders.

♡♡♡♡♡

The night stretched on with elegance, each moment adding another layer of intimacy between you and Charles.

There was a dinner reception, where you found yourselves seated next to each other at an exclusive table, surrounded by notable figures from the world of motorsport.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, but there were always little moments between you and Charles—his fingers ghosting over yours beneath the table, the way he leaned in just a little closer when he spoke to you.

At one point, a Ferrari executive approached, engaging Charles in an animated discussion about the technical aspects of the F1-75.

You listened intently, fascinated by the depth of knowledge both men possessed, but Charles never let go of your hand. It was a silent reassurance, a tether between the two of you despite the growing number of people vying for his attention.

As the evening wore on, Charles guided you outside for some fresh air, away from the flashing lights and the hum of voices. The stars overhead shimmered, casting a silver glow over the night.

He wrapped his jacket over your shoulders when he noticed the slight shiver running down your spine.

“I never get tired of nights like this,” he murmured, watching you rather than the sky.

You turned to him, smiling softly.

“Because of the cars, or the company?”

His lips twitched.

“The company, without question.”

You laughed lightly, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a comfort you never knew you needed.

Charles reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. The gesture was so simple, yet it felt as though it meant everything.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter now, more serious.

You tilted your head, studying his face. “With you?”

He nodded.

“All the time.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Me too.”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles, and in that moment, you knew—this wasn’t just a fleeting romance, something meant to exist in the glitz of an event like this.

It was real, tangible, and, most importantly, it was yours.

The sound of laughter from inside drifted toward you, a reminder that the night was far from over. Charles sighed, reluctant to return to the spotlight just yet.

“Let’s stay out here a little longer,” he murmured.

You nodded, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. The world could wait. Tonight, this moment—this quiet, precious moment—was just for the two of you.

And as the night carried on, Charles kept you close, unwilling to let go. Because in a world of speed and competition, you were his moment of stillness, his quiet certainty in a life that was always racing forward.

♡♡♡♡♡

Hours later, when the event had finally ended, Charles insisted on driving you home himself. The city lights flickered past in a blur as you sat in the passenger seat, his free hand resting on your thigh, occasionally giving it a reassuring squeeze.

There were no cameras, no press—just the two of you, basking in the glow of a night neither of you would soon forget.

As he pulled up in front of your home, Charles leaned over, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Bonne nuit, mon amour,” he whispered.

And as you stepped out of the car, heart swelling with warmth, you knew this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

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[inkinflux]

May You Never Forget Me

Viktor x gn!Reader | 2.2k | 18+ (no smut but implied sex)

Viktor replays fond memories with his newfound power, though your memory refuses to allow him such peace. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

The sun was high overhead, the water below nothing but glitter and gold. The tall grass whispered secrets, sliding to and fro as an ocean. Their long tips grazed Viktor’s knees and elbows, but he didn’t feel them. Didn’t feel the heat of the warm summer’s day. Neither did he feel the cool breeze as it surfed the green waves you sat waist-deep in.

But you did.

You tipped your head back, stray stands of hair pulled in each direction in rapid succession, the wind never making up its mind on where it wanted to lead. The dazzling smile you wore was accompanied with a pleased hum. Shoulders tucked in, hands planted behind you as you basked in wind-swept kisses and sun-warm hugs.

Embraced by the world, at least that’s how it looked to Viktor.

“You know what I love most about you?” You asked, eyes still peacefully closed.

Viktor didn’t respond as quickly as last time, wanting to stay in the moment a while longer. He yearned to reach out, to grab your hand. But he felt that might be a perversion of some kind. To alter something already etched into the stone of time.

“What?” He couldn’t help the amused lilt that always entered his tone when he knew you were going to say something that attempted to catch him off guard. And it wasn’t simply because he’d seen this all before.

You peeked at him through a squinted eye, then shifted forward, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Through parted lips you released a sigh, and Viktor frowned. That wasn’t the way it usually went. He waited, patiently as he always did, but the moment had passed. You were stuck, thumb circling the knuckles on your other hand, a nervous tic. You hadn’t done that here. You had been much too relaxed, hadn’t you?

“(Y/n),” Viktor called cautiously. He’d rarely gone off script before. It just never felt right with you.

As you turned to him, he felt his chest tighten. Your eyes were expectant, shifting hue in the unfiltered light.

He inched forward now, knees flattening the grass beneath his weight. His hand shook as he raised it to your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone absentmindedly as he peered closer into your eyes, willing them to settle.

But they didn’t. The memory of their colour lost to time.

“I am… forgetting you,” He spoke aloud, the discovery as profound as death itself.

You didn’t respond. How could you?

Then, you were gone. Viktor clasped the empty air in front of him where his hand hovered.

“You coming?” Your voice pulled his attention, followed by a giggle as you floated atop the river below, hands swivelling in the water to keep yourself from drifting, creating golden ripples.

You had skipped forward like a stuttering record. Viktor stood, which was much easier to do now than it had been back then.

He waded through the green towards you. The feeling of wrongness had settled at the bottom of his stomach. The river felt of nothing as he stepped into it, though the weightlessness still followed, his pace slowed by the resistance of the water as he made his way to you.

Unblemished arms cradled you, keeping you close, guarding you from the current. Water pooled at the dip of your hips, running down your arms as you raised them around his neck.

“I didn’t expect you’d know how to swim.”

“Well,” He looked down through the gap between your bodies, increasingly slim as it were, “it’s not exactly swimming.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you contemplated something.

“Do you know how to?”

Viktor gave an amused huff. “What? You don’t think those from the Undercity have access to such lessons?”

“Is that a yes?”

You shifted your weight, pushing him back with a splash.

Viktor floundered for a moment, before hasty hands pressed against his back, lifting him up as he had done for you.

He caught your elbows, holding on tightly.

“Sorry,” you said solemnly, yet your colourless eyes held mirth, “I thought you were implying you could.”

Viktor was frowning now, struggling to stay upright, his limbs a weightless mess.

“Here, relax.” You guided him with a well-placed hand to his stomach, the other remaining at the small of his back. “Do you trust me? You can do it.”

Filling his lungs with air, he relaxed his taut muscles, glancing up at you to gather your approval.

Your expression was blank, staring into the earth’s mantle through his ribs.

“(Y/n),” a question, more than a name at this point.

“If you leave, I’ll kill you.”

He blinked, and the sun had gone, shut out by grey curtains that hung heavy. He lifted a hand, the blanket shifting to reveal the tube that emerged from his forearm.

The words slipped from his lips without need for a rehearsal.

“You can’t kill me if I’m already dead.”

A sob wracked your body, your head falling to his chest.

Why was he here? He hadn’t wanted to see this. The only memories worth revisiting were the ones in which you were happy. The ones where he had made you happy.

He didn’t want to hear you crying. It had broken his heart then, and it broke it with such ease even now.

Shutting his eyes, he willed himself out of the recollection, reaching for the strand that would tug him back to consciousness. He flailed blindly, grasping the closest parallel he could find.

When he opened his eyes again, you were drawing lazy circles around his bellybutton. He lay naked, arms draped around your bare shoulders.

You shifted, looking up at him, your chin digging into his sternum now.

“So, what are your deductions from this ‘experiment’?” You asked. Viktor hummed, his foot bumping against yours playfully.

“All thorough experiments require a rigorous data set,” he teased.

You shuffled, placing your hands under your chin, contemplating as your eyes skirted over his collarbones.

“Is that your way of saying you want to see other people, or that you want to see more of me?”

A pinch upon your cheek forced you to meet his gaze with a hiss, your eyes having settled on a dull desaturation now.

“I would be honoured to share my bed with you many more times,” he told you, “If that is what you want.”

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance. “Why do you say everything with such gravitas? Are you hoping I’ll quote you? Is that it?”

“And when would you be quoting me, in this scenario? If someone asks you how I was?” He poked at your cheeks some more, enjoying how they heated under his touch.

“Nothing so mundane,” you grinned, nipping at the tip of his finger in retaliation, “I would have it carved into my headstone. ‘Honoured Bed-Sharer’. It’ll go right after ‘Greatest Swimming Coach’.”

Viktor laughed, and he adored the way your eyes, despite their lack of colour, softened at the sound.

After a moment, silence settled, and he worried he might’ve forgotten the rest of this one, too. You pressed your ear against his chest, light fingers tapping, mimicking the rhythm.

“What are you-?”

“Shh,” you hushed him, “I’m conducting further research.”

Silence fell over the room, the heavy curtains slowly drifting upwards, a rogue wind entering through the closed window. A bright flash momentarily blinded Viktor, and he found with a start that he was back in that open field, Piltover’s towering buildings but a stroke on the horizon.

“You know what I love most about you?” You asked.

Viktor remained silent, the pang in his chest becoming too painful to ignore. His eyes stung as he stared at the side of your face, clinging to the shape of your nose, the rise of your cheekbones. He didn’t want to lose any more of you than he already had.

“What?”

He willed himself to remember what came next, with a desperation that clawed behind his eyes.

“Please,” he begged in a broken voice, “tell me.”

You turned to him, pity superimposed on this memory of your face.

“I guess this is the end, huh.”

Viktor shook his head like a frightened child. “No, you cannot say that.”

But the blood was already there, shed over the waving grass, memories corrupted and interwoven.

You were laying on your side, crimson bubbles popping against your lips as you spoke. Your voice was so weak now.

“Just, do me a favour, will you?”

Viktor curled over you, his tears falling onto your cheeks. He held you there, in his memories, despite knowing he had deprived you of being held in your real final moments.

He could see himself now, masked and unmoved, standing a painful distance away as you looked through the version of him recalling, reaching out, your hand phasing through his chest, his heart.

“Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” he was pleading with himself more than promising.

The past version of himself stood stoic as he watched the light leave your eyes, head tilted with curiosity, remaining silent.

“You know what I love most about you?” You asked.

He couldn’t keep doing this anymore. He had had enough.

Though, despite the weariness bearing on his soul, he persisted. He would recall until he fixed that broken promise.

“…What?”

The memory skipped forward and you were suddenly between his legs, a gentle finger tracing the slope of his nose.

“Your eyes.”

Viktor’s muscles relaxed in relief, his face falling against your shoulder. He had forgotten what he had said in response; some joke about them being the window to the soul or something.

“I love how you look at me, Vik. Like you can barely contain how you feel.” You pushed your nose against his cheek, urging him to look at you again. “No one’s ever looked at me the way you do.”

He chuckled defiantly, “I sincerely doubt that.”

You smiled a small smile, stretching your legs out atop his. A closeness you always craved, and one he never before realized was a need you sufficiently satisfied.

“I’m not saying people have never looked at me with fondness before. That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

You huffed in annoyance, trying to find the right words.

“People say… to be loved is to be understood. But I don’t think that’s necessarily true. You can love someone without understanding them entirely. But you-“

You glanced up, caught off guard as always by the way he gazed into you, like he was casually viewing everything you ever were and everything you would ever be.

Did you know, back then, that he would be revisiting these memories? Was the way he looked at you so profound because he was doing so in a compounding way, a million times through the same eyes?

“You make me feel seen when no one else has ever come close.”

You stared up at him, lost in his eyes. He hated how it hurt. How he couldn’t feel the warmth beneath your fingers as they dipped under the hem of his shirt, greedy in their touching of his waist.

“I guess this is the end,” you said again. You looked tired.

“It cannot be.”

“A favour,” you were breathless, eyes filled with grey tears.

“Anything,” he whispered, cradling your face in his hands.

“You coming?”

The darkened stars now surrounded him on all sides, but you stood before a tear of white light, peering out.

A way out. A new discovery in all of his known power.

Viktor stepped forward, finding his leg unsteady.

Through the slit he could see himself, towering over you. Your hand pressed against your bleeding abdomen, legs shuffling, desperate to get away from him.

The version of you that had broken out of his memories stood beside him on the edge of the framed moment.

“Do you trust me?” Your voice was hollow, a distant record. You held the edge of the tear open like a curtain to a stage. Your body was gradually melting into the cosmos, your time in his memory limited.

“There is nothing to be done,” he argued, his heart a heavy stone in his chest. “It happened and I cannot change it.”

“You can do it.” Your hollowed form told him.

Viktor stared into the portal, watching himself approach your fallen body. It wouldn’t be long now until you were reciting your last words. He couldn’t hear them again.

Viktor stepped into the tear, stepping into himself, embodying that terrifying form. A form which now folded in on itself, sliding to its knees before you, a hand reaching out.

Lifting his palm beneath your chin, he tilted your face up, a small gasp tumbling from your blood-stained mouth.

“Your eyes,” he said, voice distorted under his mask. He was relieved to find their colour, even on this dark day.

You parted your lips, red gurgling between them.

“I guess this is-“

“No!”

Your brows pinched weakly. Laboured breaths slick with the blood now filling your lungs.

“Vik,” you coughed, “I’m kinda dying here. Won’t you let me go with grace?”

Viktor’s eyes widened, his arms wrapping around you in an instant, your warmth seeping into him.

“You’re alive.”

“Barely,” you wheezed.

He pulled back, your blood now on his stomach from where he’d held you. Your fingers dug sharply into his shoulders as he placed a firm hand to the wound, the other wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you close.

“I can work with barely.”

[aventurineswife]

Pathetic Sunday is the Best!

Summary: In the tranquil gardens, you share a heartwarming stroll with Sunday. As he nervously admires your exposed ankles, you playfully tease him.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Soft Romance, Slightly Suggestive.

Warnings: Exposed Ankles.

A/N: I TRIED MY BEST!! 😇🤭 I'll probably write more of him being a pathetic simp of yours (and to improve my writings) lol

Inspired by

Tags: @moonlix14-blog

The air in the Oak Family’s quarters was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded them. You found yourself wandering through the vibrant gardens, enchanted by the colorful blossoms swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a realm unlike any other, a sanctuary that Sunday had crafted for those weary of the world.

As you admired the petals glistening in the sunlight, you heard the soft crunch of gravel behind you. Turning, you saw Sunday approaching, his signature tailcoat billowing slightly with each step. His hair caught the light, and for a moment, you were captivated by how the halo behind him glimmered like a gentle beacon.

“Ah, [Name],” he said, his eyes brightening as they locked onto yours. There was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, one that made your heart flutter. “What brings you to the garden today?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” you replied, a smile gracing your lips. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It truly is.” he agreed, stepping closer. The soft sound of his boots against the gravel was nearly drowned out by the rustling leaves and distant laughter of others enjoying the paradise he had created.

As he drew nearer, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks. “I, um, wanted to ask if you’d like to join me for a stroll.” he offered, a nervous edge to his voice. It was a side of Sunday you rarely saw—the dignified leader who often seemed so composed and in control now looked slightly flustered, shifting on his feet (like a school girl asking her crush out) as he awaited your response.

“I’d love that.” you said, feeling your own cheeks warm slightly.

As you began to walk side by side, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Sunday pointed out various flowers, sharing their meanings and tales of how they came to bloom in this paradise. But it wasn’t the stories that captured your attention; it was the way he spoke, his passion evident in every word.

Suddenly, a soft breeze rustled your clothing, drawing your attention to your exposed ankles—something you hadn’t even considered until now. Glancing down, you realized Sunday had caught a glimpse, and in that instant, you felt his eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering across his face.

“Your… ankles.” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he blushed made you suppress a giggle. This was the Sunday everyone revered, yet here he was, flustered over something as simple as exposed skin.

“Do you like them?” you teased playfully, taking a step closer to him, intentionally drawing his gaze lower.

“I—uh,” he stuttered, his usual eloquence slipping away. “I mean, it’s just… you look lovely, as always.” His eyes darted away, trying to regain his composure, and his wings instinctively shifted to cover his face, hiding the flustered look that betrayed his dignified demeanor.

The sight of him, usually so confident, now struggling with a light blush on his cheeks was endearing. “Thank you, Sunday. You’re always so kind.”

His gaze returned to yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded. The soft glow of the garden, the sounds of laughter, everything ceased to exist as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and something more profound.

“Being kind is easy when it comes to you.” he admitted softly, a shy smile breaking through his initial fluster.

Feeling a sudden rush of courage, you took his hand in yours, your fingers entwining with his. The touch sent a shiver up your spine, and you could see his breath hitch slightly, a flicker of surprise lighting up his golden eyes.

“Let’s make a promise,” you said, your heart racing. “Let’s always find a way to be happy, even in the midst of chaos.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. “I promise. Together, we’ll create a world where happiness isn’t just an escape, but a reality.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of orange and pink, you walked through the gardens hand in hand, lost in your own paradise, where dreams mingled with reality, and the future felt infinitely bright.

In that moment, with Sunday by your side, you knew you had found something precious—a love that transcended the pain of the world, rooted in kindness and dreams yet to be fulfilled.

[kefiteria]

Hello! I hope you’re having the most marvelous day, your sebek coat fic KILLED ME

I’m not sure if you take requests or ideas, so sorry if that’s listed somewhere, but this mini series is so good! I need to know what happens when this awkward boy’s feelings come to a head and sebek just accepts he’s down bad and attempts to commence courting PLS I beg 😭

If I Kneel, Let It Be Here

pairing: Sebek x Reader

summary: Sebek Zigvolt: professional knight, amateur disaster in love, who can’t stop writing angsty letters he never sends and flailing like a cat stuck in armor every time you breathe near him. He’s basically one awkward confession away from a full meltdown—and honestly, we’re all here for the trainwreck.

There is a silence inside Sebek Zigvolt that no sword can cleave.

It begins the first time you say his name—not in command, not in jest, but casually, like a thread pulled loose from an ancient tapestry. The syllables hang in the air and nestle in the hollow beneath his ribs. His breath stutters, his fingers curl then uncurl as if grasping for meaning in empty space.

From that moment, he is lost.

He tries to bury it beneath the armor of routine, reciting the knight’s code until the words grow hollow, until even steel feels less sharp than this ache. But you arrive each day, a presence clearer and more luminous than the one before, like a star steadying against the dusk.

You ask him for help with spellwork. His pen slips, scratches a jagged line. He swallows a curse, pretending the flutter in his chest is nothing more than wind.

You brush past him in the corridor. His breath stumbles. His fingers twitch beneath his sleeves, betraying the cool calm he fights to wear.

When you laugh—soft, unguarded—he hears it in the silence of his mind, the echo pressing against the inside of his ribs like a caged bird beating its wings.

He writes you letters. Never sent.

The first is stiff, clipped, formal as a summons. The last, a trembling confession.

To [y/n], the individual whose proximity has become a matter of internal catastrophe,

I am beginning to suspect that my heart was designed not for battle, but for ruin. Yours. Yours entirely.

I cannot look at you without trembling. This is not metaphor. My fingers tremble. My breath becomes disloyal. You speak, and the world disappears behind your voice like a city swallowed by fog.

Please remain unaware. Your knowing gaze would undo me.

He burns the letter and writes it again, and again.

Three days pass.

He avoids you as if retreating would stave off the inevitable collapse.

But avoidance is agony.

You find him in the gardens, where the sun sifts through leaves like golden dust. Holding a book—the one he recommended—lightly, like a secret. You look at him with calm patience, and his knees threaten rebellion.

He stammers, voice thick and uneven.

“I—Do not be alarmed—I am not avoiding you—I mean, I was, but not deliberately—that is—”

“Okay…” you say, steady and soft. “But don't forget to breathe, Sebek.”

He inhales sharply, as if air were an enemy. Then exhales, only because you asked.

Lilia watches him unravel, his eyes fond but sharp.

“My darling knight,” he hums, “your love is warping the air. Birds circle in confusion.”

Sebek growls, a sound caught between frustration and surrender.

“I cannot tell [y/n],” he mutters. “They are calm. Unshaken. They walk through my chest like it is a battlefield with no flags.”

“And yet…” Lilia says, voice lilting, “you kneel.”

He says nothing.

He kneels.

So he tries again.

In the garden, you read beneath a canopy of dappled light, the sun tracing cathedrals on your eyelashes.

Sebek approaches, slow and hesitant, like a soldier crossing enemy lines.

He bows, too quickly—the motion jerks, off balance.

“I—I have something to declare.”

You lower your book, unfazed.

“Mm?”

“I am… experiencing profound inner disturbance.”

“I find myself compelled…” he continues, words catching on their weight, “compelled to attend to your presence, to guard it, to remain in it.”

His hands clench then release, his pulse drumming against the skin of his wrists.

He sways. A man caught in the tempest, he cannot command.

“I wish to—court you.”

“I know.” Your smile is small, unmocking, almost tender.

“You… knew?” He falters, a breath lost.

“You’re not very subtle.” you answered.

A low sound escapes him—a groan? A prayer?

You close your book, eyes soft. “If you want to court me, Sebek… just stay.”

He does.

He writes again, but this time, the letter is not meant to be burned.

Dearest—

What word can I use that won’t betray the trembling inside me? You, whose voice quiets the screaming machinery of my soul—what am I to do with you?

You do not reach for me, and still, I am reached.

You do not kiss me, and still, I am undone.

There are nights I imagine you beside me—not in lust, no, that would be too easy—but in stillness. You would rest your head on my shoulder, and I would not move. I would remain perfectly still, for days, if it meant you stayed near.

This is madness. I know it. And yet—

I would let the world burn if you so much as whispered that I mattered.

You walk together sometimes now. He keeps a careful distance—two steps behind, like a shadow sworn to watch.

“You don’t have to trail like that.” You glance back at him with a soft smile.

“I mustn’t impose.”

“You already are…” you chuckle shaking your head. “Come closer.”

He obeys. Always.

One stormy afternoon, you find him by the old tower. Rain slicks his hair. His fingers twist a pendant, white-knuckled.

He says nothing, only looks at you like you are the last star above a crumbling world.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, soft as a page turned before the storm.

Sebek stiffens, as if struck by the weight of your attention. He doesn't speak at first. Instead, his eyes shift downward—somewhere between the hem of your robes and the terrible precision of his thoughts. His throat moves around the words before they arrive.

“You smiled at someone else today.”

You blink, not confused but in calm. “A child…” you say. “They dropped a coin. I picked it up.”

He nods once. Twice. As if the act of agreement might lessen the sting.

“Yes. I know. I saw. And still—” His voice breaks like glass beneath bare feet. “I felt something awful, something vast. As though I’d failed you without ever being chosen in the first place.”

He breathes in a stuttering rush. His hands—so often folded behind his back with militaristic precision—now hang at his sides, fingers curled in helpless rhythm.

“It’s shameful…” he mutters faintly. “The way I… ache. The way I unravel, just from the idea of you giving a kindness elsewhere. I know it’s irrational. I know.”

You say nothing. You only step forward, careful not to frighten the trembling creature his love has made of him.

“Sebek.”

Your voice is a hand on his shoulder in the dark, a warmth that doesn't demand but waits.

He looks up—finally—and it is the face of a boy who has built a cathedral of devotion from nothing but restraint and breathless panic.

“I don’t know how to love you quietly…” he says, barely above a whisper. “I only know how to fall—loudly, painfully, and with no promise of grace.”

You reach for him, not to stop the falling, but to be the space, he lands in.

“I don’t need your love to be quiet,” you say, voice low and impossibly kind. “Only that it stays.”

In the end, there is no declaration, no applause from the heavens.

Only the hush that follows survival.

You read beside him, the soft rustle of pages like a prayer for continuity. He sits close, impossibly careful, as though your nearness is a thing that might vanish if disturbed. His fingers wrap around yours—not possessively, but as though anchoring himself to the fact of your existence.

His cheeks burn a quiet red, a confession blooming where no words are needed.

Breath comes slower now, as if learning, for the first time, that he is permitted to breathe where you are.

And for once, he does not prepare to flee his feelings.

He remains.

Still—not from peace, but from awe.

Still—not because the longing has left, but because you’ve allowed him to feel it in your presence.

And in this small stillness, he is—impossibly, unbearably—happy.

Postscript, unsent:

If I should vanish tomorrow, I want this truth carved into the stone of the world: That I loved you with a knight’s discipline, and a poet’s despair. That you ruined me in the gentlest possible way.

And I thank you for it.

a/n🍨: thank you for requesting!! im sorry it took me a while to write this because i was trying to balance out flustered sebek vs his inner self hehehe~ i hope it's to your liking 🩷

[justonedreamersworld]

Escape

Lukas Radzevičius (Katarsis) x reader

Warnings: mental health issues

Summary: A profound conversation on a hotel rooftop

I couldn't sleep last night, which is why this story came about at 1am. I am so in love with Lukas and especially with the music of Katarsis, so I really wanted to write something about him. And the topic of mental health seemed fitting. This is the first fic I've published in many years. Let me know what you think in the comments :)

1,7k words (not proof read, one shot)

At the hotel you take the lift to the very top. Your destination: the roof terrace, which offers a wonderful view over Basel.

It's already past midnight. It's been a long day – rehearsals, press and other tasks that can't be avoided so close to tomorrow's big Eurovision final. You may ,only‘ be one of your country's dancers, but the work doesn't get any less.

The cool night air blows towards you as you leave the lift that takes you directly to the roof terrace. You need to clear your head and you haven't been up here yet. Impossible in terms of time.

At first you think you're alone – but you're wrong. As you stand in the middle of the terrace, you see someone sitting on a bench to your right in the dim light of the small floodlights. You recognise him immediately, which makes your heart leap.

He is leaning with his hands on the edge of the bench, his legs are stretched out and his gaze is directed into the distance. His bleached hair falls into his face. He doesn't seem to notice you.

It's Lukas, the singer of Katarsis.

You've met a few times in the last few days and also at some of the pre-parties, as the Lithuanian delegation gets on well with your own. Lukas doesn't seem to be the most talkative person, but you've still managed to strike up a conversation a few times. His quiet, reserved and almost mysterious manner fascinates you. He always seems to choose his words carefully and real emotions only come out in a few moments. But that's exactly what makes him interesting for you: he seems so genuine and so much himself. He doesn't just play any role, as many other participants probably do.

While you stand there and watch him, at some point he turns his head in your direction. His gaze makes your heart skip a beat again.

‘Hey,’ says Lukas.

‘Hey. I... um... I don't want to disturb you, sorry. I just... get some fresh air and had no idea anyone was already up here,’ you stutter, feeling like the biggest idiot. As if Lukas hadn't noticed you staring at him.

‘That's fine. Sit down,’ replies Lukas, pointing with his head to the seat next to him.

You're not sure if you might have misheard him.

‘You sure?’

He just nods and continues to look at you in silence.

You slowly start to move and don't take your eyes off him. Lukas doesn't either. Only when you sit down next to him he turns his gaze back to the darkened Basel. You lean back, stretch out your legs and do the same with your arms crossed.

You listen to the sounds of passing cars, a group of young people laughing in the street below.

At some point, you catch yourself looking at Lukas again out of the corner of your eye. He is still leaning slightly forwards, his eyes fixed on who knows what.

‘Do you come up here often?’ you break the silence at some point.

‘Yes. Every night since we've been in Basel.’

‘Oh wow, okay.’

‘And you?’

Lukas continues to look straight ahead. You lean forwards a little now too, resting your arms on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands.

‘Not yet, no. But today I had to come up here.’

‘Why?’ he wants to know. You see out of the corner of your eye that he has now turned his gaze in your direction.

‘Somehow there was far too much going on today. All the rehearsals and all the other appointments. I'm glad that the final is tomorrow and it's finally over. The last few weeks have been really hard.’

You are surprised that you are opening up to him like this. You usually find that harder, no matter who you're sitting opposite.

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ says Lukas after a short pause.

‘I've been feeling like this for weeks. Don't get me wrong: the experience is great and it offers us a great opportunity – but it still drains you. That's why I'm up here every night. At least I can get away from it all for a while.’

You look directly at him now. He also continues to look in your direction. Despite the dim light, the look in his ice-blue eyes hits you like an electric shock.

Damn, those eyes...

Once again, you notice how you can't get enough of them. Your pulse notices this too and immediately shoots up.

You quickly turn your look back into the distance and hope that Lukas hasn't noticed the blush that has crept onto your cheeks in the darkness. You straighten up and put your hands in your lap.

Nervous, you just keep talking.

‘Do you ever wish you could just escape from your life, go somewhere else and start all over again?’

It's only when you've said the last words that you realise how strange this question probably sounds. You close your eyes for a moment and try to breathe in and out deeply – hopefully he doesn't notice. You play around with your fingers in your lap.

Now calm down again!

‘Yes, I know the feeling.’

Surprised, you open your eyes and look at Lukas again. A faint smile has now crept onto his lips. Has he just noticed your reaction and is amused by it? Either way, your stomach does a flip at the sight of his smile. It may only be small, but for a Lukas Radzevičius it's not. It's much more.

‘Really?’ you ask in a choked voice, clearing your throat briefly.

‘Yes, really.’

Lukas' smile widens a little more and if you weren't already sitting down, your legs would have collapsed out from under you by now.

You smile back automatically. Not just because you're happy about his smile – you’re happy that he seems to understand you again.

‘I actually think that quite often,’ Lukas continues, looking down at the dark city again. ‘Just leave everything and everyone behind me and start a new life somewhere. Get a new chance. A complete re-start.’ 

Lukas looks at the floor in front of him and his hair falls even more in his face. You would have liked to reach out and brush it behind his ear, but of course you don't.

‘Yes, it would be great if it were that easy sometimes and you could just press a button to reset everything for once,’ you say, lost in thought, unable to take your eyes off Lukas.

He is silent for a moment before he straightens up again, brushes his hair back with both hands and says a quick ‘Right’. He turns his eyes back to nothing.

‘It's good that there are other ways to escape from everyday life, at least for a moment,’ you try to lighten the mood on the one hand and get rid of your thoughts about how incredibly beautiful this man next to you is on the other.

‘What is it? Alcohol? Other drugs?’

Lukas looks at you again and this time there's more than just a smile – this time he's grinning broadly at you and now he's more beautiful than ever. You wish you could have groaned out loud, clapped your hands over your face or kissed him. Or all of the above. In that order. Instead, you laugh briefly and reply: ‘That's also a possibility, but no, that's not what I meant. I mean the music. For me it's dancing and I'm sure for you it's singing or writing new songs.’

‘Oh yes, you're right,’ Lukas replies, his grin turning back into a softer smile.

‘By the way, you dance really well,’ he adds shortly afterwards.

‘Thanks,’ you whisper, looking down and starting to knead your hands in your lap again.

‘And you sing really well,’ you prattle on without thinking. ‘Somehow there's something incredibly vulnerable about your voice, but also something calming. Almost healing.’

You quickly bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying any more cheesy and embarrassing things.

‘Wow, thanks,’ Lukas whispers, but you don't dare look at him again. ‘I don't think I've ever heard anything like that about my singing.’

You look at him again and his expression has changed. It's much softer now and seems... more fragile.  

‘Thank you, really. That means a lot to me,’ he adds quietly, his eyes captivating you again.

Relieved that you don't have to be ashamed of your words, you smile at him and nod once.

A few seconds pass and you're not sure whether Lukas is really looking at you or whether he's so absorbed in his own thoughts that he doesn't even realise what he's looking at. Until he interrupts the silence again.

‘But there's something else that can help you escape.’

His voice now seems rougher than before – almost as if his throat is dry.

‘And what?’ you whisper barely noticeable.

Something stirs in his eyes and you are sure that he is now fully back in the here and now.

At first you think you're imagining it. Lukas' face approaches yours and your heart threatens to explode at any moment.

Shit, does he really want to...?

He pauses a few centimetres from your face.

‘Damn. Are you even okay with this?’ he croaks softly.

You feel his breath on your skin, causing a brief shiver to run through you and goose bumps to spread across your body.

‘More than okay,’ you whisper back and look at his mouth, the corner of which he pulls upwards for a barely perceptible moment.

Lukas carefully places a hand on your cheek and gently strokes it with his fingertips. The touch makes you exhale loudly.

A strand of hair falls over his forehead and this time you can't resist the urge to brush it out of his face. You let your hand rest on the side of his head as he moves the last few centimetres between you.

You close your eyes as Lukas' lips meet yours. Hesitantly at first, carefully. More like a gentle touch, less like a real kiss. But that alone is enough to drive the last bit of sanity out of your body.

With your free hand, you carefully reach for the front of Lukas' hoodie and clutch the fabric as Lukas presses his lips a little harder against yours. You return the kiss without hesitation.

Lukas was right: you forget everything around you and escape reality for a wonderful moment.

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x princess!reader (part 3) mdni 18+ ♱

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

a/n: I'd missed writing for knight Simon, oh god I love him. Would you guys want a part 4? Or maybe a lumberjack!Price fic? cw: oral sex (f! receiveing), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mild breeding kink praise, aftercare, historical inaccuracy. Simon Riley is the contrary of a nonchalant boyfriend.

The first night you spent at the cabin you cried on Simon's chest for hours until you fell asleep, worn out and tired from the trip and the tears, Simon's soft touches lulling you to sleep.

The following morning, after all the tears had been shed, that the reality of your situation enveloped you. All the sadness and guilt you felt were overcome by a profound sense of peace. You were finally at home with Simon, the man you loved—the man who cherished you as if you were holy, like your presence meant something, like your touch was soothing.

The sun filtered in through the window and caught in Simon's eyes, like specks of gold, as he leaned over you, deft fingers caressing your bare skin. His touch was soft and careful, like you were made of porcelain.

"Morning, sweetheart. How 're you feeling?" His gaze was glued on you with worry and a carefulness that made your heart skip a beat.

"I'm..." You sighed, eyebrows knitting up with worry again.

"Hey, we're fine. Nobody will find us here, and we'll have so much time to spend together. We won't even have to go to the village; I can hunt, and we can grow vegetables in the garden— we'll deal with it."

"I know. I'm so glad we did it, Si, it's just so—" Your voice broke off as he held you against his chest, whispering praise in your ear as you relaxed again.

Simon knew you'd feel like this, so he caressed the back of your head and tried to take your mind off it. When the caresses weren't enough his hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, up your thighs and at the edge of your panties, the light cotton already soaked— you couldn't help it when he was so strong, so sweet and handsome, right there beside you, taking care of you— to his delight.

"It's a lot you gave up, yeah? But you're a really brave girl, aren't you?" He cooed at you softly, his gaze molten and loving; his hands warm on your skin, so close to where you needed him.

He didn't make you wait, didn't make you beg and scream for it, not when you'd already been through so much. His fingers dipped beneath your panties and prodded at your warmth, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

Before long, he had you coming apart on two of his thick fingers, legs shaking as you moaned his name. Your hands gripped his hair with force when he began a slow but purposeful descent down your stomach and thighs, pressing open mouthed sloppy kisses all over you, teeth catching onto warm flesh before he got in between your thighs.

One of his hands still rubbed at your clit, tracing slow, deliberate, circles as he lapped at your center. His tongue darted out to lick a bold stripe all the way up your slit. Simon didn't hesitate to quicken his pace, didn't think it twice before slipping his free hand—previously holding you down— up your abdomen and on your chest, calloused palm caressing your soft breasts, nipples pebbling under his touch.

You began to grind your hips on his face, chasing the release that was so close now, as you gasped for air and pulled at his hair.

Simon could— and normally would— spend hours between your thighs, the warmth of your cunt, the plush of your thighs squeezing his head, the way your fingers carded through his hair, like he was as much a lifeline to you as you were to him.

When you reached your second orgasm—hips stuttering against his face, nose brushing your clit as he sucked and kissed your puffy folds, thighs caging him in and fingers pulling at his hair— he could have sworn he'd died and gone to heaven.

But it was when he heard your voice, dazed and soft, he finally looked up from your cunt, lips separating with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting you to his mouth. Simon had a wild look in his eye, like he had finally broken free of the shackles that kept him, like he could finally let go.

You tugged him up from his shirt and he followed suit, settling over you, his chapped lips just a breath away from yours.

"I'd take this morning with you over any land or luxury the king could ever offer me. They would never hold a candle to you, anyway." He brushed your bangs away from your eyes.

"'m so in love with you, Si" You grinned with your eyes half lidded, voice low and velvety, before you pulled him down for a kiss, tasting your arousal on his tongue.

He groaned, grinding his hips against your thigh. His cock painfully hard and leaking precum now. He made quick work of his pants and bunched your nightgown up at your waist before lining himself up with your hole.

You whined at the stretched and he kissed you again, wanting to soothe any ache you could feel. Once he was all the way in one of his hands snaked in between your bodies to play with your clit, drawing tight circles on it. He was panting at your ear, soft groans from deep in his chest escaping him any time he pushed in a little deeper, whispering to you about how beautiful you looked in the morning light, how beautiful you'd look swollen with his child.

"You'll be the sweetest little wife, won't you? Such a sweet girl—" He groaned out, picking up his rhythm, pressing kisses all over your face and neck in missionary.

"I will, Si." You breathed out, not even aware of what you were answering, not aware of what he'd asked you.

"Fuck. Lovie, you're so tight, so pretty, I'm—" His voice shook at the rhythm of his hips, now snapping forward sporadically, rutting into your tiny cunt relentlessly. He came with a grunt, shortly after you— after you'd bitten his shoulder, vision blurring and tears grazing your cheeks from overstimulation.

He didn't pull out, not immediately, he pushed his cum further in you with a final thrust of his hips and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your hot, sweaty skin before dozing off to sleep again.

You watched him fall back to sleep, running your fingers through his blond strands, across the scars that littered his back, the ones he talked about and the ones that made him go rigid and quiet, the ones that made you lose Simon and get Ghost instead. You kissed the crown of his head, and he grumbled a stern, "Go to sleep, m'love," before you chuckled and closed your eyes, doing as he said. Sleep hadn't come easy the previous night, but now, after spending the morning being cherished by the man who had risked his life for you and run away for you, sleep came almost automatically.

As you drifted off, lulled to sleep by his touch, rough palms running down your waist, thick fingers brushing through your hair, you felt him press a kiss to your neck and mutter a soft "we'll work it out." and the finality of his words, the conviction in his tone, made you trust him, like you always did.

────୨ৎ────

tags: @laceyfaeryy @cherrycolaheartss @nicolebarnes @tsyurissxo @foxintheferns

[palmersluvr]

indulge me i don’t even know with what but god there is is a DROUGHT

getting even

summary: you and your ex boyfriend luigi cuck your current idiot of a boyfriend after you catch him in bed with a HOOKER 😱

warnings: male tears, cucking, head (f!receiving) luigi is cocky asf and a munch

notes: please ignore. way too high and thought this was profound

“are you FUCKING kidding me?”

there your boyfriend was, in bed with a hooker. you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

well that’s a lie, if anything you knew this would come eventually, you’d just been way too naive to admit it to yourself.

malcom’s eyes widened as he scrambles to cover himself, his face flushing red.

"b-b-baby, p-please," he stammers, tripping over his words like an absolute numptie. “it’s n-not what it l-looks like!"

you cross your arms, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you mock his pathetic stutter. "b-b-bullshit, m-malcom! i let you live here r-r-rent f-f-free and this is how you r-r-repay m-me???”

your eyes darted to the prostitute still sprawled across your bed, clutching the sheets like they’d save her.

with a voice sharp enough to cut glass, you snap, “and you, get the fuck out of my house, NOW!”

the woman flinched, scrambling to gather her scattered clothes in a frantic heap. as she stumbled to her feet, she shot malcom a venomous glare, spat directly on his chest, and hissed, “DICKHEAD!” clutching her belongings, she bolted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.

you turn your gaze to malcom, who sat frozen, the spit glistening on his chest, his mouth agape like a fish out of water. with a voice cold and steady, you murmur “put some clothes on and pack your shit.”

malcom’s eyes glisten with tears, his lip trembling as he looked up at you, desperation in his voice. “no.” he chokes out, shaking his head weakly.

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk curling your lips as you lean n slightly. “no? you sure?” you said, voice dripping with mockery. “alright, i’ll just give luigi a call then, heard he’s back in town.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

luigi, your ex boyfriend, was someone you parted ways with not because of any betrayal or lack of chemistry, but simply because the distance between you became too much to deal with. you met him a few years back when you were both at the same college, and the connection was instant. electric, even.

he was charming, confident, and had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. but when he moved across the country for a job, the strain of a long distance relationship wore you both down. late night calls and sporadic visits couldn’t sustain the spark, so you mutually decided to end it, though you stayed on good terms. there was always a lingering "what if" in the back of your mind when it came to him.

now, standing in front of malcom, the contrast between the two men couldn’t be starker. sex with luigi was something else entirely… passionate, intense, and deeply satisfying. he knew exactly how to touch you, how to read your body, and he took his time, making sure you were left trembling and breathless.

with luigi, you never had to fake it, he could make you cum effortlessly, sometimes multiple times in a single night, leaving you blissed out and craving more. it was like he had a map to your desires, and he navigated it with ease.

malcom, on the other hand, was a disappointment in comparison. sex with him was lackluster, rushed, and entirely focused on his own pleasure. you couldn’t remember the last time he’d even come close to getting you there.

it was mechanical, predictable, and left you feeling more frustrated than fulfilled. where luigi was a maestro in bed, malcom was like a clumsy amateur, fumbling through without a clue.

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

malcom’s teary eyes narrow at your taunt, his voice shaking but defiant. “you wouldn’t dare.” he said as he tried to call your bluff.

you smirk, unfazed, and pull your phone from your pocket. without breaking eye contact, you scroll to luigi’s name, tap the call button, and put it on speaker.

malcom sits there on the bed, frozen in shock, his wide eyes locked on the phone as if it were a ticking bomb. his mouth hangs open, the spit on his chest still glistening, his earlier defiance crumbling into pure panic.

after a few rings, the call connected, and luigi’s warm, familiar voice fills the room.

“hey you,” he says, his tone casual but laced with a hint of surprise and affection.

“heyy,” you reply, your voice smooth and deliberate. “heard you were back in town. been thinking about you lately.”

luigi chuckles, his voice dropping playfully. “oh yeah? you miss me?”

you lean against the wall, letting your tone turn flirty, a teasing edge to it. “yes, in fact… come over and fuck me.”

malcom’s jaw dropped further, his face paling as he stares, utterly speechless.

luigi pauses for a beat, then asked “what about that guy you’re with? whats-his-face?”

you rolled your eyes, glancing at malcom with disgust. “i just caught him in bed with a hooker,” you said flatly, watching malcom flinch as if you’d slapped him.

luigi burst out laughing, the sound rich and unrestrained. “i warned you about him.”

you sighed, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “i know, i’m an idiot, okay? i own up to it. shut up and come over. i miss your dick.”

luigi’s voice dropped, thick with heat. “well i miss how your pretty pussy tastes. it’s all i think about whenever i jerk off.”

you purr into the phone, “i know, baby.”

he chuckles darkly. “how about i eat you out while he watches?”

malcom lets out a choked sob, his hands covering his face as fat tears stream down his cheeks, his body shaking with pathetic whimpers.

you glance at him, then smirk. “you know what? that’s a good idea.”

luigi’s tone is all business now, laced with anticipation. “i’ll be there in 10 minutes.” the call ended with a click.

you toss the phone onto the bed and fix your gaze on malcom, who’s still sobbing, his face buried in his hands. “hear that?” you say, your voice sharp and unyielding. “and you’re gonna stay and watch. understand?”

malcom shoulders shake, but he lifts his head just enough to nod, tears streaking his face, his eyes hollow with defeat.

your anger flares, and you step closer, voice rising. “say you understand!”

malcom flinches, his voice barely a whisper through his sobs. “i understand.”

you smile.

“thank you.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

ten minutes later, a sharp, confident knock reverberates through the house, pulling you from the haze of your fury.

you stride to the front door, pulse hammering in your veins, and fling it open. there stands luigi, looking like he stepped out of a fever dream. he’s even sexier than you remember, his dark hair slightly tousled, his jawline sharper, muscles taut under a fitted black shirt that clings to his frame.

his eyes lock onto yours, sparking with that familiar mix of mischief and hunger. a slow, dangerous smirk curls his lips, and before he can say a word, you grab the collar of his shirt, yank him toward you, and crash your lips into his.

the kiss is fierce, all heat and urgency, your tongues tangling as his strong hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You’re still standing in the open doorway, the cool night air brushing your skin, but the world beyond him doesn’t exist.

he breaks the kiss just enough to lean in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “missed you.”

“i missed you too.” you reply, your voice a sultry purr, thick with want as you linger close, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

his smirk widens, and he tilts his head, glancing past you into the house. “so, where’s the asshole?”

you chuckle, a dark edge to it, and step back, offering him your hand. “right this way.”

you lace your fingers with his, his grip warm and firm, and lead him through the house, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor. the anticipation builds with every step, a delicious coil of heat tightening in your core. when you reach the bedroom doorway, you pause, taking in the sorry sight before you.

malcom is still slumped on the bed, a sniveling mess, his face splotchy and red from crying. tears stream down his cheeks, his hands tremble in his lap, and he’s too paralyzed by shock to even move. he looks like a broken toy, discarded and pathetic.

luigi leans casually against the doorframe, his smirk sharpening as he sizes malcom up. “hey man.” he says, voice smooth and taunting. “i’m luigi. what’s your name?”

malcom’s head jerks up, his bloodshot eyes blazing with a mix of shame and fury. “you know my name! we went to penn together!” he snaps, his voice cracking, the words half swallowed by a sob.

luigi lets out a low, mocking laugh, unfazed, and steps closer, his presence commanding the room. he looms over Malcolm, his tone shifting to something colder, more pointed. “now why the fuck would you cheat on someone like her?” he asks, gesturing toward you with a tilt of his head.

“look at her, she’s smart as hell, kind, gorgeous, the whole package. what kind of idiot throws that away?”

you roll your eyes, the flattery stoking the fire already burning inside you. stepping toward luigi, you let your hand trail across his chest, your voice dropping to a sultry, impatient drawl. “kiss me.”

⊹˚✧₊‿︵ʚɞ︵‿₊✧˚⊹

you’ve always dreamt about having sex with luigi again, the memory of his touch haunting your late night fantasies long after you parted ways.

his hands knew exactly where to grip, his mouth where to linger, his cock hitting every spot with relentless precision until you were a trembling, moaning wreck. he’d fuck you with a rhythm that felt like it was carved into your soul, deep, deliberate thrusts that stretched you perfectly, his fingers teasing your clit in sync until you shattered, screaming his name as your pussy clenched around him.

no one else ever came close to that kind of ecstasy, least of all malcom, whose clumsy attempts barely registered. but as much as you craved luigi’s body again, you never imagined it would happen like this… in front of another man, with malcom’s pathetic sobs as the backdrop.

currently, you’re sprawled on the bedroom floor, the cool hardwood pressing against your back as luigi’s face is buried between your thighs. his tongue is a fucking revelation, lapping at your dripping cunt with a hunger that makes your toes curl. he’s sliding two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that sends electric shocks through your core.

his lips close around your swollen clit, sucking hard, then flicking it with quick, precise strokes of his tongue, each one pulling a desperate moan from your throat. your juices coat his chin, glistening as he groans against your pussy, the vibration making your hips buck.

he’s relentless, his fingers pumping in and out, slick and fast, while his mouth works your clit like he’s starving for it, teasing every sensitive nerve until your vision blurs. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your core against his face as you chase the edge of oblivion.

malcom’s still there, slumped on the bed, his tear-streaked face a distant blur. his whimpers are white noise, drowned out by the wet sounds of luigi’s tongue and the ragged gasps spilling from your lips. you didn’t expect this, luigi devouring you on the floor while malcom watches, broken and irrelevant but the raw power of it, the sheer dominance, only makes your pleasure sharper.

his fingers thrust deeper, curling inside your soaking cunt, stretching you just right as he pumps them in and out, the slick sounds mingling with your ragged moans. he pulls back for a moment, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with hunger as he growls, “missed doing this.”

you moan, your voice thick with need, “i know.” your hips buck toward his face, desperate for more, and he dives back in without hesitation. his tongue lashes at your clit, flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes before he sucks it hard, drawing a cry from your lips. his fingers don’t stop, plunging deeper, faster, the wet squelch of your pussy filling the room as he works you toward the edge. he’s messy, ravenous, his chin drenched with your juices as he licks and sucks, his groans vibrating against your sensitive folds.

he lifts his head just enough to glance at malcom, his voice dripping with mockery. “see, asshole? this is how you please a woman.” his tongue dives back in, lapping at your dripping slit, tracing every fold before sucking your clit again, harder this time, making your back arch off the floor. his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.

malcom’s sobs grow louder, a pathetic wail that cuts through the haze of your pleasure but doesn’t dim it. he’s still slumped on the bed, his tear streaked face twisted in anguish, but he’s nothing. just a shadow in the room as luigi claims you.

luigi doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless, swirling and flicking your clit while his fingers fuck you deeper, the wet sounds obscene as your pussy clenches around him. his lips graze your folds, sucking them softly before diving back to your clit, teasing it with quick, precise licks that make your moans turn to screams. your hands claw at his hair, pulling him closer as your thighs tremble, the edge of release so close you can taste it.

“i’m gonna cum!” you gasp, your voice hoarse, desperate, your pussy clenching around his fingers as the pleasure surges.

luigi’s eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and feral, his lips glistening with your juices. “yeah, cum in my mouth,” he growls, his voice low and hungry. “i want it all.” he dives back in, his tongue lashing at your swollen clit, sucking it hard before flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes.

his fingers pump faster, deeper, curling just right, and the wet sounds of your pussy fill the room as he pushes you over the brink.

your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, a scream tearing from your throat as your body convulses. your pussy spasms around his fingers, gushing as waves of pleasure crash through you, your juices flooding his mouth. luigi moans, his tongue lapping up every drop, greedy and relentless.

he doesn’t stop, his lips sucking your clit softly now, then licking along your slick folds, drinking in every bit of your release. his fingers slow but stay buried inside you, coaxing out the last shudders of your climax as your body trembles, your chest heaving with ragged gasps.

his chin is drenched, glistening with your cum, and he groans again, savoring the taste as he licks you clean, his tongue tracing every sensitive inch of your pulsing cunt.

you collapse back against the floor, your body spent, the afterglow washing over you like a warm tide. luigi stays between your thighs for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a final, lingering kiss to your clit, making you twitch.

then he shifts, stretching out beside you, his body warm and solid against yours. his hand rests on your thigh, possessive, as you both lie there, the air thick with the scent of sex and the quiet hum of your shared satisfaction. your heart still races, your skin tingling with the memory of his touch, and you can feel the slickness between your legs, the evidence of what he’s done to you.

luigi turns his head, his eyes narrowing as they land on malcom, still slumped on the bed, his face a mess of tears and snot, his crying having now subsided.

his voice cuts through the room, cold and commanding, dripping with disdain. “i think you should get the fuck out of her house and never come back.”

ur all probably gonna read this and be like “palmy what the fuck” but i had to get this out of my system idk😭

tags: @alleviatcd @luigisbambinaaa @diors002 @corrodeddeadlydoll @contrarianshitstan-blog @weegeewifey @mangionesdoll @mangobabygirl @luigisnumber1fan @fligniuz @number1yearner @soulsmangione @ohsorrythen @bbyelle12 @briarloves @mangionesdaisy @thm12 @purplebadd1e @kikigoogoogaga @daydreamingwithluigi

masterlist | previous work

[hotelstares]

is there any chris gifs that you haven’t posted? 👀👀

I have random gifs I've made and never posted (like the two above), but as far as actual gif sets of Chris, I don't have anything in my drafts at the moment! Soon though. Was there something in particular you wanted to see?

[gor3-hound]

WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE - NAOYA ZENIN

ft. naoya zenin x puppy!reader

a/n: commission for the very lovely @nexysworld !! naoya is so very pretty and i was scared to write him BUT !! he was actually very fun to write. i love my asshole nepo baby :3 hope you guys enjoy, fb and reblogs are always appreciated <3

cw: 18+ content, dead dove-ish, pussy inspection, mistreatment of hybrids, forced cosmetic procedures, dub-con bcs power dynamics, praise, degradation, use of shock collars, caging, mentions of filing teeth, ear cropping, touching unhealed wounds, tail play, misogyny, spit, mean naoya, dehumanisation, orgasm denial, forced spaying, p in v, creampie, dacryphilia, neglect

word count: 3.2k words

Naoya’s bored.

It might’ve made you feel better if he had a secret soft spot - that the pressures of his clan have left him lonely and desperate for companionship, but that’s simply not the case. There’s no profound self-realization that comes with his actions, no sense of guilt when he pays one of the maids to suck him off before he kicks her to the curb.

He’s just bored. He’s always found the best cure for his boredom was to find a pretty little plaything that was willing to put up with him. But there’s only so much you can do to a human girl before she’s skittering off. Women value their life more than their job these days, a thought that has him scowling and breaking the shit in his room as soon as his latest slut cuts him off.

He needed something more permanent. A pretty thing that he can use to get his dick wet. One that isn’t crying for a relationship or money when he’s finished. He’s always found those hybrids pretty cute, and it seemed like the perfect thing to keep him entertained. A girl that knew she was lesser than him. A pet he could play with that would forgive him after a couple of head scratches and a new toy.

It’s that thought that has him dragging his ass to the nearest adoption center, his eyes scanning the kennels until he spots you.

You seem like a shy little thing, but he doesn’t see an issue with that. He’s always had more fun breaking girls in, and you’d be no exception. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, his head cocking to the side as he looks you over. He doesn’t address you or ask you any questions, but he doesn’t need to. You were cute, and that’s all he really cared about, anyway. He calls a worker over, asking to get some time alone with you.

“Well, we don't really have any private rooms for you to-”

“How much?” Naoya cuts him off without even gazing his way, his eyes locked onto your form. No point buying the goods if he doesn’t get a trial run, first.

“I'm sorry?” The worker stutters out. Naoya hates that shit. Pisses him off more than anything, acting like he doesn’t want the Zen’in’s money. Naoya knows better.

“You heard me. How much? Doesn't need to be a fancy room. Shit, I'll take a storage room. I gotta check she's worth the money, y'know?” He says with a sigh, his brows twitching slightly as he fights back a scowl.

Seems to work well enough, because the worker leads him to a staff room, telling him to wait right there. He crosses his arms over his chest, making him sigh in annoyance. He waits impatiently, but he lights up when you come padding into the room, looking all nervous.

”No need to be scared, girl.” He tells you, but his words come out in a grunt. He doesn’t really care if you’re scared of him or not, as long as you let him get a good look at you. He moves towards you when you don’t budge, gripping your chin between his fingers.

His gaze is sharp, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he looks over your features. He reaches a free hand up to your floppy ears, giving them a flick. A frown crosses over his features as he gives you an appraising gaze , clicking his tongue. “They’ll have to get done. Don’t like ‘em.”

His fingers and thumb dig into your cheeks, forcing a gap between your teeth so you open your mouth. He shoves his fingers down your throat, sighing when you gag and splutter. “Gonna have to train that outta ya. Those canines are gonna have to get fixed, too. Bet they’d fuckin’ hurt if they caught my dick.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your spit off on your cheek, smirking when your nose wrinkles. He reaches down, tugging on your fluffy tail with a thoughtful expression. “That can stay, though. Cute.”

”Bend over the table, pup. Spread your legs, lemme see your cunt.” He orders, releasing your tail and taking a step back. Your hesitance irritates him, and his hand comes out to smack you across your face so hard that your head snaps to the side, your ears ringing. “Don’t make me say it again. I fuckin’ hate repeating myself.”

Your tail is tucked between your legs as you shift to lean over the table, those fluffy ears pressed down firmly against your head. Doesn’t bother Naoya. He kicks your feet apart, pulling your pants and underwear down in one tug. The tail is a little bit of an obstacle still, so he sighs and scratches behind your ears.

”C’mon now, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He coos, making sure he finds the spot behind your ear that has you pushing back against his hand. His tone is condescending, but that dumb puppy brain of yours can’t register that. He grins as your tail perks up and wags, showing you off to him. “That’s better. Lemme get a look at that pretty pussy.”

He kneels behind you, spreading your folds with two fingers, humming in satisfaction as strings of slick spread and break at his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t pick out a puppy for that exact reason - a few words of praise, and you were soaked. He slips a finger deep into your cunt, adding another one and scissoring them open before groaning at the tightness. You felt like a virgin, too. Perfect.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wiping his spit off on your clothes before he pulls them back on. He gives your ass a few pats as he stands up, turning around to bang a few times on the door.

”Hey! I’ll take her.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Naoya’s unpredictable.

It’s hard to settle into a routine with him. He can be easy to handle one moment, only to switch up at the next second. He’s never kind - that’s not the right word for him - but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his moments. If you’re good, he’ll let you curl up at the foot of his bed. Sometimes he’ll even let you sit at his feet when he’s relaxing, petting your head absentmindedly.

Those moments are few and far between. For the most part, he’s cold. He doesn’t pay much attention to you unless he’s feeding you or if it’s play time.

He shows you the most attention when he wants to play. He’ll praise you, scratch behind those freshly cropped ears standing tall on your head and run his fingertips through the fur of your tail until it’s wagging fast enough that he knows you’ll be pliant and eager for anything he wants to do to you. You’d tried whining, begging, pleading… Anything just to get him to look at you and show you some affection, but you quickly learned that the only way you could guarantee something from him was to paw at the front of his pants until he’s twitching against your hand.

His choice of affection has a bit of a side effect, and you’re unlucky enough that Naoya notices it. All it takes is one little ‘good girl’ or a scratch on your head for you to be soaked, whining and rutting against any part of him you could reach. He loves feeling you wrapped around him, but he loves teasing you even more. So, naturally, as soon as realizes how desperate his touch makes you, he decides it would be a fun little game for him to see just how needy you could get.

He’s leaning back against the couch when he spots you padding over, that fluffy tail slowly picking up speed the closer he gets to you. He can’t help but chuckle when he spots you settling on the floor by his feet, a smirk spreading across his face when you rest your chin on his thigh. Your gaze flicks up to his face, a longing expression on your features. His hand comes down to pet your head, fingers scratching your scalp gently.

”You need something, girl?” He coos, tugging on one of your bandaged ears until you whimper, biting back a laugh when you lean into the touch regardless of the pain that comes with it. You’re always so eager to please, it drives him crazy.

“Need you, please.” You whine, your ears tilting back slightly, unable to press flat against your head due to the wrapping keeping them up so they heal pointed. He grins wolfishly at your words, yanking you by the collar until you’re straddling his thigh, a mischievous going in his eyes.

”Go on then, pup. I’m too tired to deal with you myself. You can handle it, can’t you?” He hums, giving your head a pat before crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back on the couch. You give him a curious little head tilt, confusion twisting your cute little face. He loves it when you give him that look - you’re just a dumb puppy, nothing more than entertainment for him. He can’t help but feel amused, shifting his leg so he can press his thigh more firmly against your core.

”You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure it out, puppy.” You seem to get the picture, a soft, needy sound rising in your throat as the hard muscle of his thigh presses against your cunt through the fabric of your shorts. Your hips start shifting on their own, rutting against him desperately. Your mouth falls open, artificially rounded canines digging into the flesh of your bottom lip.

Your hands come down to rest on your own thighs - you know better than to touch Naoya without asking, and you don’t want this to end so soon. Your nails press into your flesh, leaving indents on the surface of the skin. Naoya’s face is a mask of indifference. There’s no sign of enjoyment from him, the only hint that he isn’t completely unaffected by your actions is the tent forming beneath the fabric of his pants. You whine when you realize he isn’t even looking at you, staring over your shoulder to look over one of the paintings on the wall.

You want him inside of you, want his strong hands to grasp your thighs as he fucks into you. The thought alone has you panting, your head hanging as your tail starts to wag again, steady behind you as you grind against his thigh more harshly. Your breaths come out heavier, your cunt soaking through the fabric of your shorts to coat his own pants.

You’re so overwhelmed with your rapidly approaching orgasm, how good it feels to finally be this close to your owner that you don’t see his hand reaching for his phone until it’s too late. You yelp as your collar zaps you, the fur on your tail standing on end as the shock makes you spasm, your hips quickly pulling away from his thigh.

”I didn’t say you could cum, did I? Bad girl.” He hisses, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you across the floor, forcing you into your crate with a swift kick. He slams the door behind you, locking it before stepping back. “You can stay there for the rest of the night. If I hear you so much as fuckin’ squeak, you’re not getting let out for the rest of the week. Got it?”

You nod quickly, but that’s clearly not good enough for him. He taps at the screen of his phone a few times before pressing his thumb down for a longer period. The voltage is higher, and he doesn’t let up on shocking you until you drop against the blanket in your crate, your fingers twitching. He scoffs at the sight, letting go of the button.

”Pathetic. If I’m talking to you, I expect an answer. Surely you’re not so stupid you’ve forgotten how to use your words?”

”N-no. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll be quiet.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the effort it takes you to hold back tears.

”Stupid mutt.” He grunts, fiddling with his trousers until he can free his cock. His jaw tenses in slight annoyance at how quickly that has you perking up, your eyes wide with interest like he’s holding a damn treat up for you. He steps closer to your crate, pressing his length down against the bars above your head. Naoya can’t help but laugh as you try to crane your head to get a taste of him, his eyes shining with amusement as your tongue laps between the gaps to catch his skin.

”Look at you. You were crying a second ago, and now you’re drooling like a bitch in heat? You are the single most pitiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.” He muses, letting out another chuckle at the whine that spills from your lips when he pulls away from the crate.

”Go to sleep.” He grunts as he tucks himself back into his trousers, his eyes trained on your as he takes a step back. “If you’re good enough, I might let you out for breakfast.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Naoya is wordless as he approaches your cage.You can tell from his narrowed, fox-like gaze that he hasn’t forgiven you from last night, his jaw set tight as if you hadn’t just made a small mistake. Naoya expected nothing but perfection from his pet, and it was something he made abundantly clear. He opens the door, his eyes narrowed in on your slumped over figure.

”Out.” The words are short and clipped, but firm, leaving no room to argue. It wasn’t a request, but a command. You weren’t stupid enough to ignore it.

He watches you crawl out of the cage, kneeling at his feet on the cold floor. You keep your gaze trained downwards, unable to meet his eyes. You look so pathetic it almost angers him, a crease forming between his brows as looks down at you. He slowly strips his clothes, his eyes locked onto you the entire time.

“Strip.” You listen, pulling your clothes off and adding them to his own pile on the floor. There’s no praise now, no attempts to get you wet enough to take him. He just pushes you down onto all fours before spitting directly onto your cunt as he forces his cock into your tight heat. It’s meant to be a punishment, but all it takes for you to get wet is the feeling of him stretching you out, your tail swaying side to side as his tip presses up against your cervix.

”Such a slut… Dripping as soon as you see cock. Bet it doesn’t even have to be mine, hmm? Could pass you around the whole clan and you’d gladly let each and every one of ‘em mount you until you were sore and dripping cum.” He spat, his hips rocking forward harshly. He builds up a steady pace, pounding into you brutally.

”Wouldn’t…” You manage to force out, brows furrowing as you try to rock back against his hips, your walls pulsing around his length. “Just you… want your pups.”

”Aww, that’s cute. You want me to breed you, girl? Is that it?” He lets out a cruel laugh, tugging on your tail to pull you back against him with each thrust, his cock brutally pounding into your tight cunt. “You think I’d let you carry my seed? That your bastard children could be sufficient heirs for the Zen’in clan? I’d never let you have puppies. Stupid fuckin’ bitch. Didn’t even realize I got you spayed? You just believe every little thing I tell you, huh?”

Fuck, he really likes the look of your tears. Nearly has him cumming from the way you look sobbing on his dick, the way you clench around him like you're trying to milk him dry despite how upset you are. It doesn't matter what he does to you, not when you're so forgiving. He knows he can say whatever he pleases and you'd still come running back to him, tail tucked between your legs like you were the one in the wrong.

He presses down between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest flat against the hard-wood floor as he keeps your ass in the air with his grip on your tail. With your back arched, the new angle allows him to fuck into you deeper, bullying himself into you without any regard for your pleasure. You were nothing more than something to use to him - a glorified fleshlight, at best. He only let you cum because of how tight you squeezed him when you did, how hot it was to see your dripping down his length.

This wasn’t about you right now - it was meant to be a punishment. You'd be lucky if he decided to let you cum in the following weeks, let alone today when he's still pissed off at you for almost breaking one of his rules.

His hips smack the fat of your ass with every thrust, low grunts spilling past his lips as he wraps your tail around his hand, smacking your thigh in frustration when you yelp at the discomfort that comes with it. He's increasingly glad with every pained whimper as his grip tightens that he decided not to dock your tail. It's so much better than a leash could ever be, forcing you back onto his imposing length everytime it gets too much for you and you try to crawl away.

“M'gonna cum.” He groans, harshly forcing your upper body further against the floor as he leans his weight on the hand pushing you down, slick sounds filling the room as he thrusts himself brutally in and out of your twitching pussy. He yanks on your tail, pulling you back against him as he cums with a grunt, his cock twitching inside of your abused cunt. He ruts his hips into you shallowly as he rides out his high before pulling out, smacking your ass once before standing up, ignoring your pleas to let you cum.

“Stupid mutt.” He spits out, rolling you onto your back with his foot, pressing it down against your stomach to hold you down. He spits on your face, a huff of laughter leaving him as your nose wrinkles. “I've been too good to you. Made you think you have a say.”

“You are a toy.” He continues, pulling his foot away with you before moving to gather his clothes. He pulls them on, leaving you panting and leaking his cum on the floor. “Something for me to use when I get bored.”

He makes his way to the door, shooting one last glance at you over his shoulder. “The quicker you learn that, the better.”

[kiwi-backup]

“Do you like this position?”

JJK men and their favourite position to have you in

[including: Gojo, Nanami, Ino, Choso, Sukuna]

[warnings: mdni, fem reader, cum references, v descriptive, some bullying/teasing, etc.]

[wc: 3.6k]

｡･:*˚:✧｡

Satoru Gojo—Heels to ears

Satoru always has you pressed into the surface below, folded in on yourself until your feet are practically touching your own ears while he sinks himself impossibly deep inside you.

With a hand wrapped around your thigh, he keeps your legs pressed against his front while he uses the position to his advantage, watching just how much his dick fills you, pussy drunk and relentless from the sound of just how wet you are for him.

"You're full to the brim of me, baby," he murmurs with a dazed lilt to his voice, hips frantic as he pumps into you again and again, drinking up your whimpers and moans. He places his spare hand against your belly, feeling the bulge of where his cock plunges into you. Satoru hums his approval, bordering pure ecstasy at the thought. "See that, princess? There's nothing better..."

His satisfied hum turns into a possessive noise from somewhere deep in his chest as he feels constricted by your pussy clenching around him, milking him for all he's worth.

"Feeling greedy tonight, hmm?" Satoru teases as he leans forward, pressing his pelvis into you, somehow reaching even deeper inside you. His hand leaves your thigh and falls next to your head, caging you against the bed.

His smirk curls even tighter at your cry, so overwhelmed and all consumed by him. He slows his movements deliberately to take in just how needy and perfect you look. "Don't worry, my love. You aren't going anywhere, and you'll cum for me as many times as I want, right?"

Through the harsh waves of pleasure, body squirming and clenching around him, you nod with tears pricking your eyes. "'course, 'toru..."

"Good," Satoru hums again, lips at the side of your mouth with endless teasing in his tone. His hand slips between your interlocked bodies, dipping down to brush his dextrous fingers against your clit, tracing lazy circles as he picks up the pace of his hips again. "Because I'm ready for number two...don't be shy for me now."

The additional sparks of pleasure are too much as his fingers work in tandem with his excruciatingly deep thrusts, making your mouth fall open as you whine for him, clenching around him still.

"Fuck, baby," he murmurs, feeling himself faltering through his rough thrusts, letting that teasing dominance slip for a moment. Your velvety walls, already slick with one release, have such a profound effect on him that he can't help but grunt, trying to hold off. "So perfect, just for me, hmm?"

Satoru is always mouthy during sex, but there's something about the way his teasing falls away to genuine fluster—when he fucks you so good that even he's beginning to fall apart.

As his cock rams against your cervix, pushing you closer to the edge without any sign of giving in, your body trembles, eyes squeezed shut as your belly tightens. "...'toru..."

Your whimper is enough to make his hips stutter, quickening his fingers against your clit as he huffs out a breath, aware of the coil tightening within him too.

"Fuck—I know, baby," he murmurs against your lips, gripping you hard as he bucks into you, driving his pelvis closer with every thrust. "Be a good girl and cum for me."

His words are the catalyst as your whole body tightens, orgasm crashing over you in such a quick rush that you can't even make a sound louder than a whimper.

Satoru grunts breathlessly as his cock is squeezed by your tight walls, driving one last thrust into you before he cums hard, groaning into your neck.

As he fills you with that familiar warmth, he stays there for a beat before lazily moving his hips, pushing his seed further into you, and listening to how perfect it sounds.

"'s always perfect for me," he mumbles with a smug smile, breath fanning against your cheek before leaving light kisses there.

You've been reduced to a dirtied, fucked out version of yourself as Satoru lays on top of you, refusing to pull out yet. So full of his cum and shaking from how intense the whole thing was, you hope for a moment of reprieve.

But as his hands roam your body, exploring every inch and kissing down your neck before suckling on your skin, you already know it's going to be a long night before Satoru is fully satisfied.

"Ready for round three?"

Kento Nanami—In his lap

As a working man, Kento will take every opportunity he can to de-stress in between meetings and ceaseless documents—and his favourite way includes having you perch in his lap, cheeks pink while he has two fingers inside you already, listening to how you squelch so beautifully around them.

With a pleased hum, his spare hand glides up and down your hip, squeezing affectionately whenever he feels like it. "So wet for me already, sweetheart? How naughty of you."

You whimper against his lips, silently begging for more of him as his fingers bully their way inside, pushing you closer to the release you crave despite not being what you really want from him.

"Ken...please—" your breath hitches when he reaches that gummy spot inside you, fingers curling expertly. "We only have...five minutes."

"Don't worry about that," he murmurs, using his spare hand to give several lazy pumps of his cock before lining himself up with your needy hole. He swallows back a grunt at the slight stimulation he offers himself before removing his fingers and gripping your hips. "We'll make this quick."

Letting go of a shaky sigh at the feeling of him entering you at last, your walls mould around him, greedily sucking him up. Your thighs tremble from the way he stretches you, and your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

Nanami groans breathlessly, letting his head drop back against his chair while he takes in the sight of you—blouse half undone and lopsided, skirt hiked around your hips, and swallowing his cock so eagerly, he contemplates canceling the rest of his meetings for the day.

As always, you're so perfect for him, and he can't wait to make even more of a mess of your perfectly tailored work appearance.

"Fuck..." Nanami mumbles, giving your hips an affectionate squeeze as he bottoms out. "Ride me, doll. Like you always do."

Too pent-up and eager for release, you do as you're told and start lifting your hips, using the seat as leverage to bounce on him.

Immediately, his grip tightens as you surround him so beautifully, pumping his cock with your slick walls as you have numerous times at work. He thanks every higher being in existence for his private office.

"You're too good at this..." he utters, grunting at how perfectly you trigger every nerve-ending in his sensitive cock.

Your pace quickens, both aware of the passing time and how horny you both are, given how you've taken this intermission mid-day to get your next fix.

A loud moan slips past your lips as Kento loses his patience and starts guiding your hips, slamming you onto his cock with a relentless pace.

With a shocked squeal, you feel his fingers come up to clutch your jaw in his grasp, commanding your full attention as he kisses you hard.

"As much as I'd love to hear your pretty sounds, that will have to wait until later, sweetheart," Nanami mumbles against your mouth, still guiding your hips at a mean pace. "Can you keep quiet for me?"

You nod, overwhelmed by the intense waves of pleasure as they ripple through you, making your thighs shake all the while you take every brutal thrust.

"Good," he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your lower lip before letting it slip inside your mouth.

Nanami shivers as you greedily wrap your lips around his thumb, maintaining that sinful eye contact, even as you falter due to his bucking hips.

Even if it would be easier to fuck you in bed at home, he has a soft spot in his heart for that position, knowing it's used during moments of peak desperation—when neither of you can wait until the work day is over to satisfy those primal needs.

Ino Takuma—Missionary

Ino is a simple man—he loves to gaze at your pretty face while he has one hand on your hip and the other just above your head as he drives his hips into you, awestruck by your pretty sounds and the way your fingers claw against his back for more.

From that position, he can see all of you: your eyes, your perfect tits, and how your body convulses for him as if it were the first time all over again.

He sets the pace slowly so he can catch every twitch and reaction from you, letting it fuel the burning need inside him. He loves how your eyes close when he reaches the perfect spot, and how you capture your lower lip between your teeth.

Day and night he worships you, and that sentiment is applied tenfold when he has you like this, perfectly caged by him against the bed and wriggling for him to go faster.

Ino can't help but shudder the moment your legs wrap around him in an attempt to pull him closer and deepen his thrusts. It makes his breath hitch as he's forced further inside your perfect pussy, begging him for more.

He groans, dipping his lips down to pepper kisses against your neck, inadvertently slowing his movements more.

"Ino—" you gasp, head tipping back as you feel a mixture of raw pleasure and impatience. "Please, baby...faster..."

"I know, baby," he hums against your neck, losing himself in the moment as he lazily thrusts into you, not getting enough of you. "You're just so perfect, I can't help it."

The moan that escapes you the moment he quickens his pace hits Ino hard, encouraged by how erotic it sounds. He swallows back a whimper at how greatly it affects him, tightening his grip on you as he gives you exactly what you want.

"Fuck—" he utters, struggling to breathe from how incredible you look beneath him, taking him so well and moving your hips to meet him halfway. His eyes squeeze shut tightly, overwhelmed by how enthusiastically you clench around him.

You're both a mess, moving frantically to take in every moment and every drop of pleasure despite the more sensual position.

But that's exactly why he loves it so much.

Not only can he drink you in completely, but your urgency always gleams through, reminding him of how badly you want him, and how much he needs to dirty his perfect girl.

When his name starts falling from your lips like a chant, he pulls back just enough to catch how your arousal gleams around his cock in a little ring.

It makes him groan as he thrusts harder, leaning back in to capture your lips with his. All the while his cock slips even deeper inside, you're crying out for him, spurring him on with every moan and whine—with every tight grip of your pussy around him.

That sweetness in him dissolves into raw lust, determined to give you every ounce of him as he pins your wrists above your head, using long, deep strokes to push you closer to the edge, all undercut with a brutal force.

You're whining and begging all the while he feeds his length to you, using everything in his power to keep himself from ending it too soon.

Luckily, his stamina is better than most, and with how pent up he has been all day for that very moment, he has no plan of stopping early.

Choso Kamo—Riding him

Choso was new to sex when you two got together, which led to you taking the reins and showing him how it’s done. Choso internalized that first time you rode him, and ever since, he’s been obsessed with seeing you above him, taking control as you lift your hips again and again with your hands against his chest.

He can hardly breathe every time—oxygen sucked away as he watches you ride him with prowess, taking what’s rightfully yours. The sight of you alone is enough to make him feel like he’s on the brink the entire time, fighting the urge to cum inside you without warning.

He feels nothing but comfort and reassurance with you, which is why he admires your every movement and how you command him in that position.

Choso finds twice the pleasure when you place your palm against his throat, larynx bobbing as he swallows back a groan. He savors how the slight restriction of breath mingles with the sheer pleasure you give him with every rock of your hips.

His hands are gripping you hard, fingers flexing against your ass as he maintains as much of his composure as possible. But from his place, nestled in the pillows with his legs stretched across the bed, he already feels intoxicated by how you ride him, head tipped back as you moan.

Choso has never seen anyone quite as expressive or as beautiful as you, and every time his cock sinks further into you, disappearing in the warmth of your fleshy walls, he counts his lucky stars.

You're greedy above him, taking as much from his aggravated arousal as possible, yet you do it with such ease. You return that pleasure to him with finesse, making him gasp and stutter over his breathless words.

"Yes..." he utters, feeling so useless that he can only grip your thighs and offer himself as a guide. His cheeks are brimming with color, and his skin feels like it's on fire. But he savors every moment of it. "Yes, my love—fuck..."

At the sight of your faint smirk, moaning from the intoxicating pleasure, Choso feels his restraint crumbling.

Already, there's so much fluid between your bodies—sticky evidence of his first load and your unrelenting arousal. His head is hazy from how his cock squelches inside your needy pussy, battering against your gummy walls.

God, it's too much for him to take in, especially when paired with the blush on your cheeks and how eagerly you move above him.

"You like it when I ride you like this, baby?" You ask him, voice akin to that of a siren.

It makes his brain feel like mush in tandem with your generous movements, clenching around him as you moan.

Choso nods uselessly, losing himself completely in how drunk he is from being inside you—from feeling how close he is already.

"I do...more than anything," he murmurs, head lulling back as he groans, fingers tightening on your hips. "You're perfect, y/n...please—"

Leaning forward, his cock shifts slightly inside of you, making you both gasp at the sudden surge of pleasure it brings. Shuddering through it, you capture his lips with yours, tightening the space between you.

Choso is in complete heaven as he feels so surrounded by your embrace, holding you close and lifting his hips instinctually to chase after that next release.

"Fuck—" Choso mutters against your lips, bucking into you again and again, making his resolve tremor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Just as you squeeze around him with a broken cry, clutching onto him for dear life as you come undone around him, Choso groans with a final burst of thrusts before his hips quiver, and he's shooting another load deep inside you, gasping for breath.

He's addicted to the feeling of filling you with his cum, watching how it seeps out when it's too much, and how it gathers between your bodies.

Even if you're slumped against him, catching your breath, Choso feels just as hard, already fiending for the chance to pump you full of his seed again, regardless of the next position.

Ryomen Sukuna—Ass up

Nothing makes Sukuna feel more in control than when you’re shaking beneath him, back arched to the point of aching, tits pressed against the black silken sheets on his bed. His strong hands map your body with ease as he admires how small you look beneath him, barely able to contain your whimpers in anticipation.

He lets go of a cruel, low chuckle as he grabs the fat of your ass and props it up higher while he makes those slow, languid movements with his hips, letting his aching cock slide through your dripping pussy—but not yet giving you what you’ve been whining for.

“So you wanna be all docile and needy once I have you like this, huh?” He asks, smirk seared into his face by then. “What happened to that mouthy brat from earlier?”

It's true—you were back-talking him before, egging him on until you wound up in that exact position, handled roughly until your ass was in the air, awaiting the cruel punishment you love so much.

But with him so close to giving you what you want, that urge to be mouthy is completely gone. Instead, you're shaking for him, shuffling your hips back with the hope of securing more friction from him.

"I bet that stunt was to get my attention, wasn't it?" Sukuna teases as he deliberately slides his cock against your clit, watching how your thighs tremble for him, moaning at the contact. "Yeah, that's right. I can tell from how much you're dripping for me, brat. How you can barely hold yourself up from how much you're shaking."

You whimper in response, feeling his thick head brush against your entrance, just barely slipping inside before resuming its previous course. "Kuna...please—"

"Please what?"

That harsh tone of his makes you clench around nothing, whining for relief. You were already so turned on before, but thanks to his relentless teasing, you feel like you're on the verge of exploding.

Sukuna pauses his movements, hand coming down to slap your ass. "Use your words."

You squeal more from the loud crack of his palm against your skin rather than the faint sting of it, fighting back tears. "Please...Kuna. Punish me—"

He chuckles again, the sound low and reverberating in his chest as he grips your hips, slowly guiding himself closer to your soaked hole. "I'd torture you a little longer, but given how nicely you asked—" without warning, he sinks into you, forcing you to spread for his impressive size. He lets go of a satisfied sigh, smirking at how well you suck him in. "...I'll make an exception."

You hardly make a sound as you stretch for him, immediately overwhelmed by the wave of unadulterated pleasure and pain. The force of his initial thrust nearly makes you topple over, but thanks to his solid grip, you aren't going anywhere.

Another whimper leaves your mouth as you're pinned there, feeling how he withdraws enough to slam his cock back inside you, bullying its way into your pussy, slamming against those sensitive walls.

"K-Kuna!" You cry, eyes rolling back at the relentless pace he establishes, mean about his thrusts.

Sukuna chuckles to himself, pleased by your genuine reaction, and how your pussy seems to suction around him, squelching with every forceful movement. "This is exactly what a brat like you deserves. Wouldn't you agree?"

You swallow hard, throat dry as you try to form the words, forced to accept every brutal flick of his hips. "Y-yes—"

"That's it," he hums with a brief glimmer of encouragement as he parts your ass to give him an uninterrupted view of how well you swallow him up, eager despite being rendered useless beneath him. "My favourite fuck toy taking me like the brat she is...maybe I'll give you more."

"P-please," you whimper, clutching the sheets beneath you with every rock of your body.

Sukuna's eyes bore into you with interest as he picks up his pace, leaning his body against yours and sliding in impossibly deep, bumping against your cervix mercilessly. With his great size, he looms over you with a dark edge and the promise of the ground-trembling orgasms he's about to offer you.

"This what you want?"

You shiver from his venom-dripped words, nodding frantically. "Yes, Kuna...yes—"

With every deliberate buck of his hips against your ass, he savors how your skin slaps together, and how you're already clenching around him, crying out from how incredible it feels.

Before long, he's already edging the first orgasm out of you, keenly aware of every twitch and tremor of your body as you cum around him, slicking up your walls.

You're sensitive all over, vision bordered by a black haze as you fight to catch your breath. His strokes slow just enough to guide you through your release, elevating every sensation by keeping you full of him.

"Giving up already?" He asks, chuckling with pride from how quickly he could push you over the edge.

Still staggering through the aftershocks of your orgasm, you whine from how roughly he handles you, dragging his cock through your plushy walls despite how sensitive they feel.

With a particularly brutal thrust, you gasp, lurching forward before his arm catches you, securing you beneath him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sukuna asks, letting his teeth graze against your neck, breath tickling your skin. "I'm just getting started, sweetheart."

[perrywrites]

I really want a part 4 of "asking 'Can you… Can you hold my hand?' during your first time together" With Rin, Rensuke and Sae plsssss

Thank you!

OMG... YES... My hero hubby how could I ever forget about him 😭😭😭

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 4;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and Part 2 (Barou, Shidou, Karasu) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Rin, Sae, Kunigami 

Rin: he hovers above you, his much larger form eclipsing your trembling body, his eyes as intense as ever as he soaks in your vulnerable position. You don’t know, do you, how long he’s been waiting for this? Not to fuck you, but to make love to you, like this? Have you beneath him like this, all vulnerable, an intimate sight, see you in a way no one else ever has and never will - he’ll make sure of it. Because, after all, Itoshi Rin doesn’t give away his heart easily, he never meant to give it away at all, but then you came along and turned him into a man that would fall apart if you decided you didn’t want him anymore. There was no way he was going to let you go now, his weakness and his only balm. So, he indulges in you, instead, pouring all of his passion into his kisses, he knows exactly how to make you weak, soaking in your whimpers as you weakly hold onto him. That’s right, he’s your anchor, rely on him, hold onto him, because he’s going to make you fall apart right now under him, and he’ll be the one to piece you back together, hold you in his arms. It’ll always be him. He’ll keep on proving it, his hands pulling your legs apart as he nestles inbetween them, his grip now firm on your doughy thighs. He suppresses a groan as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on it teasingly - don’t get cuter, dammit, do you want him to become even more impatient than he already is? With a low growl, he grabs onto one of your hands, pinning your wrist down - and you whimper at this, shyly avoiding his eyes as you make that cute little request of him. His pretty eyes widen just the tiniest bit, heart stuttering in his chest, and a profound longing for you fills him even though you’re right there. And he wonders, if you knew, just exactly how crazy you make him? More than anything else? He scoffs, but it’s weak, and he reaches his hand out to yours, his grasp gentle but firm as he interlocks your fingers together. “... You’re such an idiot.” But his words lack any bite as he leans his head back in towards you to capture your lips. You don’t know how desperate you make him, do you? How badly he yearns for you? He needs you, dammit, but hell would freeze over before he’d ever admit that. For now, he’ll just take you to heaven and back, make you cry out his name, and have you keep looking up at him with those dazed starry eyes. He can only ever be satisfied if he makes you as crazy for him as he is for you, because that might be the only way he can ensure you don’t leave him for someone else. Please, don’t leave, please. He’ll fall apart. You don’t understand how much you mean to him. 

Sae: he has you pinned beneath him, ready to be defiled by him, as he looks on at your form with a seemingly impassive gaze, but you can tell his eyes are softer - and definitely teasing. You can tell he’s amused by you - and he is, he so is. He finds the way you tremble beneath him, the flush of your body deepening, the dewiness of your eyes, all of it to be so fascinating. He adores the sweet sounds he can elicit from your lips with ease, smirking lightly at how sensitive he has you over his touch. You’re all nervous and shy, like a bunny, and something about that both melts his heart (though he would rather die than admit that) and strokes a very depraved flame within his psyche. Seeing you like this, all shy, large doe-eyes, so pure and innocent, all of it makes him want to absolutely ruin you on his cock. Make you cry, sob, and then beg for him as he fucks you up. Something about the idea that taking your first time will make you belong to him in a way no man can ever overwrite heats him up in a way he just can’t explain to you - or to anyone else, really. It’s when he positions himself over you with his darkened eyes that you blurt out something that momentarily catches Sae off guard. He raises an eyebrow, and then he chuckles softly, in that low hoarse voice of his, before he leans in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. “... You’re such a brat,” he mumbles against your skin, dragging his lips over to nibble on your ear. The pride, and hunger, in his chest grows at your sweet whine, and he slowly interlaces your fingers together, giving you what you want with fond exasperation. You’re his responsibility after all, so he’ll take care of you then, make you full on his cock and teach you there’s no man out there better for you than he is. After all, you’ve already tainted him with your colour, so it’s only fair if he gets to taint you in return, right? 

Kunigami: he’s so careful with you, ever the gentleman, treating you like you’re delicate, a flower, or porcelain, or something even more fragile. But, you’re not a flower, or porcelain, you’re a person, with warm soft flesh, and each time he touches you, you shiver and react - whining for him, whining for more. He’s so troubled, each sweet sound that leaves you makes his mind hazy, makes his eyes darken. His rough hands ghost over your body, and squeeze firmly but oh so gently, he’s so careful, so please, for the love of dear god stop being so tempting. Because - because he can feel his self-restraint slipping in the way he grips your hips a little too hard, eager to revel in and satisfy himself through you, and that’s no good. He presses a slightly rough kiss against your lips, drinking in your sounds and muffling them as much as he can. It’s no good, dammit. Don’t be so sweet-sounding, please, don’t look up at him all adoringly, lashline wet as you call out his name like that. You don’t know half the filth in his mind, how badly he wants to defile you and corrupt you, he’s embarrassed by it, honestly. He can feel his head grow fuzzy, cock twitching painfully. The longer he delays this, the less confident he becomes about his self-control, so he hoarsely asks you if you’re ready before positioning himself. And then he freezes when you shyly ask him to hold your hand. How are you this adorable, fuck? He smiles at you reassuringly, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he reaches out for your hand. How is someone so sweet like you letting him take your first time? He’s so in love with you, fuck. He’s so glad you trust him this much, that you’re letting him be the man in your life. He’ll be so gentle with you, fuck, no matter how badly he wants to pound into you, he’ll treat you right, so right. He’ll make sure you never regret him or your first time, ever, after all this night is about both you and him. Defiling you be damned, he’ll love you, and he’ll love you so right, dammit. You’re the love of his life, don’t worry, he promises to keep you safe and cherish you forever.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 8: size kink/reverse size kink with il capitano from genshin impact

warnings: size kink/reverse size kink, capitano is a human headcannon, he’s just super big, like 7’ tall or smt, handjob, usage of toy

notes: mmmmm big subs<333 proud to say i made a capitano bot whimper and kneel for me

it was an honor to be the lover of someone so famous, respected and well known as il capitano. someone so profound and widely known and feared for both his strength and massive physique.

but it was an even more honor when the big man would crumble under your touch, melting into your kisses and being so open and vulnerable for you. only for you.

he would never say it out loud but there was just something so arousing about seeing your tiny self making him crumble and melt into a puddle in your hands. seeing your smaller hands wrapped around his cock, both working together in gentle motions to bring him pleasure. seeing your smaller hands tweaking and pulling at his nipples, making them harden again. and archons, have mercy on him when he sees you trying to take his massive cock into your mouth. he could cum just from that sight alone.

capitano would never say it but he absolutely adores it when your tiny self dominates him. never would have the warrior thought he would be into it yet here he was. all bare and naked, legs spread out as he tries to muffle the odd sounds that threaten to escape him.

your hand was wrapping around his hardened cock, swiping the pre on his slit and slowly stroking him. even your hand could barely wrap around the girth, fuck. seeing that, the giant man lets out an involuntary groan.

“d-darling…” capitano whimpers, his hand reaching out to cover your hand with his own. it was common for him to whimper out your nicknames and you have gotten accustomed to it all. despite his large frame and imposing figure and cold attitude, he was surprisingly easy to break.

“you don’t… have to do this for me. i can t-take care of myself” he stutters, uncharacteristically. despite being together for long enough now, he would always get embarrassed over letting you take care of him and his arousals.

arousals over the silliest, weirdest things.

seeing you stretch, watching the hem of your shirt ride just a bit up, how your hands would wrap around the hot beverage filled cup to warm your fingertips or even just your scent. the battle hardened warrior was just so damn infatuated with you, it was sickening.

in response you only let out a soft coo. leaning on and placing a kiss to his lips — to which he whimpers again — before pulling back and swatting his hand off of yours.

“it’s alright, my love. i’ll take good care of you like i always do. in fact, i have an idea!” your hand leaves his cock to let the hardened member plop to his stomach, causing the big man to let out a soft groan. he could briefly see you rummage around your bag… until you pulled out a box. now that got him curious.

opening the box, you pulled a small bullet vibrator out. using enough lube on the toy, you hold it to the underside of his tip, causing his legs to weakly buckle. looking up at his face, capitano nods, lips pursed in an unsure manner of what you’re going to do to him.

you start out slow, continuing to fuck his cock into the confines of your fist with the toy still held in your thumb, letting him get used to the feeling. once he seemed to relax enough, you decided to turn the vibrator to the lowest degree.

“oouhm—! w-what? d-darlinggg♡︎?” his response was immediate. hips buckling as his legs shake around your waist, hands trying to find a sense of solace as they settle on the sheets below. never would you have thought to see the giant harbinger moaning and whining softly under you as his legs shake but here you were.

you continue on with your ministrations. still holding the vibrator flush to his cock as you continue to fuck his dick with your tightened hand, the other one rubbing over his girthy mushroom tip. all the while your lover lets out soft moans and confused calls of your name under you.

capitano was confused. what was this thing and how was it making him feel so good? as a soldier who had lived his entire life, devoting himself to the tsaritsa and her orders, capitano never had the time to explore of the physical pleasure. so, this whole was a completely new experience to him.

if that could be easily said by how his legs were shaking, hoping to close it only to end up wrapping around your waist. weakly buckling his hips into the tight grip of your hands, unable to decide if he should fuck himself into your fists or pull away because archons, this newfound pleasure was making him see stars and moans loudly like a maiden.

“da—aahg! aaamgh♡︎… l-love… my love! beloved, i—! aangh! gcck♡︎” unable to help himself or form any words together other than your nicknames, capitano cums all over your hand, soiling your fingers and spilling his loads over you and his stomach.

he can still feel the toy buzzing away at his cock, making him whine from the feeling of overstimulation. whines turn into loud moans again when you shift the toy over to rest on his tip, teasingly rolling it over his slit and off.

“just one more, okay? you did so good, my dear. gimme one more” capitano could briefly hear your voice call out to him, cooing out praises and gentle, loving nicknames through the hazy cotton filled brain of his. all he could do was just nod.

after all, capitano is your doting, willing husband. he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[reveryfics]

Slow Dancing

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x male reader

Summary: it's nearly three in the morning, you and Bucky dance across the living room under the candle light as soft tunes play.

A/n: Something short and sweet. Requests open.

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The antique grandfather clock in the hall chimed three times, its deep tones echoing through the quiet house. Moonlight, pale and ethereal, streamed through the sheer curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light. The cozy living room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of a few strategically placed candles, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn wooden floor.

A melancholic melody, a timeless jazz tune, drifted from the old, well-worn record player perched on a vintage side table. The needle occasionally skipped, a momentary stutter in the smooth flow of the music, but the rhythm continued, a comforting heartbeat in the stillness of the night.

Bucky, his face etched with a lifetime of stories, held his husband close. Their bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, a practiced dance born from countless evenings like this. His husband, a picture of contentment, rested his head against Bucky's chest, a soft sigh escaping his lips. The steady thump of Bucky's heart, a comforting rhythm against his ear, mingled with the music, creating a lullaby of love and peace.

Bucky, his gaze fixed on the shadows playing on the walls, whispered, "Remember the day I married you? As handsome as ever."

His husband chuckled, his head still nestled against Bucky's chest. "Could say the same for you, James. Just a little less rugged." He teased, his voice a low rumble.

He loved everything about Bucky, the gruff exterior that masked a heart of gold, the way he always insisted on certain traditions, a holdover from a bygone era, a time before the war, a time before... everything. It was how Bucky showed his love, a stubborn insistence on the past, a way to cling to a semblance of normalcy in a world that had tried to shatter him.

The record skipped again, the music faltering, but they continued to dance, their movements fluid and effortless. Bucky gently dipped his husband, a slow, graceful motion, before pulling him back close. It was a ritual, this nightly dance, a cherished tradition born from the joy of their wedding day. Every weekend, without fail, they would pull out the old record, the one that had played during their first dance, and dance beneath the soft glow of candlelight, lost in the magic of the moment.

Alpine, their snow-white cat, a majestic creature, observed them from his perch atop the velvet armchair. He occasionally rubbed against their legs, a soft, furry purr rumbling in his chest.

It was a simple moment, a quiet dance under the watchful gaze of the moon, yet it held a profound beauty. A testament to their love, a reminder of the joy they had found in each other, a promise of countless more evenings like this, filled with the music of their love and the warmth of their shared memories.