oh okay so since infold wants to start listening to complaints now, how about you fix the fucking skintone issues your black players have been dealing with since LAUNCH.
i am so sorry for the drought on my page, i do not have a single ounce of motivation to finish a fic.
i do have some w.i.ps though, and yaâll deserve something đ so here đ€Čđ»
obviously not proofread, edited, or finished below the cut
âi know youâre not telling me everything.â the young man standing in your yard demands, shaking his finger at you. past that frustrated scrunch in his nose, you swear you see a familiar face.
standing at the threshold of your fatherâs farm getting reprimanded by some âenvoy of sir radzig kobylaâ though, you canât help but get a little indignant.
âlisten, sir, I donât have time for all of your riddles. come back when you know what youâre looking for.â swiftly, with as much pressure as you can muster, you move to slam the door shut.
a knight can take a little bruise to the foot though. he steps forward just as quickly, his jaw setting as the door smashes against the side of his boot. In one smooth motion, and with a lot more strength than you, heâs throwing the door open and walking inside of your little cottage uninvited.
âno, you listen, lass. I donât have time for your attitude.â your back thuds against the wall, the knightâs forearm resting heavy against your chest to keep you in place. the man leans down, nose a breath away from yours. âtalk.â
now that heâs this close, you recognize him immediately.
the last time you saw henry was fifteen years ago, totting along behind his father on the way to his smithy. he was a lot scrawnier then, those dorky features resembling more of a sloth than a human. in the cutest way possible, of course.
now though, his arm holds you back against the wall, heavy with muscle you never imagined he could grow. heâs even stepped into those awkward features, handsome face still scrunched with anger. nostalgia washes over you and you canât help but smile, fingers tightening around his forearm where youâd been trying to push him away.
âhi, hal.â the greeting comes out wheezy as your breath grows shallower.
henryâs face falls suddenly, confusion replacing his frustration. those brown eyes soften, melting into recognition as he scrambles to unhand you.
Sleepy sex with Sylus in the middle of the night. You wake up warm all over, assuming itâs because of the literal furnace of a man beside you only to discover itâs him but even better. Sylus is having a wet dream, brows pinched and jaw slack as his chest heaves in an unsteady rhythm. One you recognize all too well, the only other dead giveaway is the visible bulge in the sheets over his groin.
You watch him for a little bit, memorize the way his face twitches and his hips roll up against the bedding. Searching for relief, searching for you. His own subconscious trying to recreate the physical pleasure his mind is conjuring. It makes your stomach flutter, heat surging straight between your thighs as you wonder what he could be dreaming about. What he could possibly be doing to you in his dreams, or what you could be doing to him. Either way, he looks so adorable and needy.
Not able to contain yourself, nor let him suffer for much longer. So you snuggle in closer, running your hand down the planes of his stomach and under the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his hard on. Gasping with him as he bucks into your hold, your nose nuzzling his pulse. Jerking him slowly while kissing on his neck, muttering sweet nothings as you try so carefully not to wake him.
Itâs no use, Sylus is too sharp even in sleep. Just as heâs about to cum, those crimson eyes flutter open and a hand shoots over the covers to stop you. âWaitâŠâ thick and groggy, you can feel your panties stick to your cunt as you squirm, peering up at him in the dark. â⊠I need to cum inside of you. Itâs the only way.â You could die happy.
Thatâs how you end up cradled in his arms, faces nuzzling the other, cock buried so deep inside of your warmth itâs hard to decipher where one begins and the other ends. Sylus somehow has staved off his orgasm in favor of rocking slowly, letting the pleasure melt his mind and body into the mattress. Letting it consume him, letting you consume him in his entirety. Everything he has to offer.
i am so sorry for the drought on my page, i do not have a single ounce of motivation to finish a fic.
i do have some w.i.ps though, and yaâll deserve something đ so here đ€Čđ»
obviously not proofread, edited, or finished below the cut
âi know youâre not telling me everything.â the young man standing in your yard demands, shaking his finger at you. past that frustrated scrunch in his nose, you swear you see a familiar face.
standing at the threshold of your fatherâs farm getting reprimanded by some âenvoy of sir radzig kobylaâ though, you canât help but get a little indignant.
âlisten, sir, I donât have time for all of your riddles. come back when you know what youâre looking for.â swiftly, with as much pressure as you can muster, you move to slam the door shut.
a knight can take a little bruise to the foot though. he steps forward just as quickly, his jaw setting as the door smashes against the side of his boot. In one smooth motion, and with a lot more strength than you, heâs throwing the door open and walking inside of your little cottage uninvited.
âno, you listen, lass. I donât have time for your attitude.â your back thuds against the wall, the knightâs forearm resting heavy against your chest to keep you in place. the man leans down, nose a breath away from yours. âtalk.â
now that heâs this close, you recognize him immediately.
the last time you saw henry was fifteen years ago, totting along behind his father on the way to his smithy. he was a lot scrawnier then, those dorky features resembling more of a sloth than a human. in the cutest way possible, of course.
now though, his arm holds you back against the wall, heavy with muscle you never imagined he could grow. heâs even stepped into those awkward features, handsome face still scrunched with anger. nostalgia washes over you and you canât help but smile, fingers tightening around his forearm where youâd been trying to push him away.
âhi, hal.â the greeting comes out wheezy as your breath grows shallower.
henryâs face falls suddenly, confusion replacing his frustration. those brown eyes soften, melting into recognition as he scrambles to unhand you.
ive been watching a lot of top gear/grand tour and i think my boyfriend is finally happy to have me slightly understanding cars with him hehe. last night we watched an episode over old jaguars that was sooo goodÂ
anyways higurama drives a 2000's jaguar xjr đ€
and if you care, i think nanamai would be classier, like an aston martin or bentley kinda guy, and gojo is definetely whatever big name sports car he can get his hands on. the slimmer and sleeker, the better.
Angen cael fy nhynnu'n ddarnau mĂąn a fy ailosod fel oriawr wedi torri . Nid mewn ffordd rywiol dwi ond yn meddwl y dylen nhw roi fy nghymalau at ei gilydd yn gywir y tro hwn
you've been missing him so bad all day. it's not often that sylus leaves before you ever wake up. normally, you're the early bird in the relationship. but he had an early meeting today. the lingering scent of his deodorant on your sheets doesn't seem as strong as usual. so out of spite, you stay curled up in your chunky duvet, cuddling his pillow to your chest.
chores around your place can only keep you busy for so long before you've plopped down one the couch, a forgotten tv show playing in the background while you text him on your phone. for a brief bit, he was responding, entertaining your silly questions, reassuring you he would be bringing dinner home tonight. you can tell he's gotten busy though, because your text has been left on delivered for about three hours now.
'when do you think you'll be home??'
a half eaten bagel lays on the counter, your attempt at late night snack as you check your phone for the umpteenth time. an exhausted groan fills the room, phone thudding back onto the coffee table. it takes a long few moments of your face being buried in the sofa, desire gnawing at the inside of your ribs, but the phone finally goes off.
one message is a video attatchment. the next says;
'soon, kitten. going to grab dinner, then straight home.'
the thumbnail of the video is pretty all telling. just a vague view of his legs and an odd shadow. when you click on it and the video comes into focus, you feel your pussy drool.
sylus' puffy breathes are muffled above the phone, which is pointed down at his slacks and the familiar tile of his office floor, resting just below his hips. in the tile's bright reflection you can see the shadow of his pretty cock, thick and hard. he even makes a proud display of it, tugging the stiff length to the side so you can watch it bounce. with a breathy grunt, sylus' long fingers wrap around the shadow, tugging at himself lazily. his breaths quicken until a pretty little moan slips past, shoes squeaking when he shifts his feet, sinking further into his soft palm.
you watch, completely mesmerized, as your face grows warmer and warmer. shimmying, you push your shorts down just enough, wetting your fingers, when another text comes through, interrupting your video.
'don't even think about touching yourself until i get there.'
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