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Really needed to wake up and say this, but I LOVE Chapter 170, from the art direction, choreography, and potential lessons. But upon rereading, I found it similar to a previous chapter...
...specifically when Rudo lost his cool.
In Chapter 39, after his friends are injured and the āthreatā is incapacitated, Rudo physically lashes out at Amo, using his fists to beat her down in a fit of rage. Heās reckless and is consumed by the desperate need for vengeance, and perhaps projects his incompetence that he couldnāt help themāwhich ties in with the guilt of Regtoās death.
In Chapter 170, after Mymo is dealt with, Rudo rushes for Enjinās side. Note the obvious that Enjinās on the floor like Regtoābut is it guaranteed thatās what Rudo saw? No. Regardless, heās panicked and consumed with the desperate need to save Enjin and recklessly manifesting enough Anima with the intentions to heal him. How? As shown in Chapter 39, it can be safely assumed he hasnāt thought it out, the way he didnāt think about the āinformationā and was driven by the intentions to save Enjin, not wanting to have a second coming of Regto.
In Chapter 39, malewife Enjin steps in.
In Chapter 170, wife Kyouka steps in.
Both situations focus on Rudoās intense emotions while noting those around himāespecially whoās affected by the harm. And both of them break his rumination loop and take him physically away from his fixation (Amo, Enjin) and teach him a similar lesson from a different perspective.
In Chapter 39, Enjin diffuses the situation by allowing Rudo to vent and breaking his rumination loopāI like hot chicks (donāt we all)āguiding Rudo into a healthy resolution while respecting his autonomy. He does this by showing Rudo he, himself, has room to grow, rather than chastising the already shame-filled Rudo, directly treating himself as an example that everyone has flaws and makes the same mistakes rather than turning Rudo into one. He confidently insists flaws donāt make you a bad person if you strive to overcome them.
Itās worth noting Enjinās form of emotional fulfillment is different to Regto, whose teaching methods align more with pointing out faults and insisting you have the autonomy to choose and be better, which from my hunch, may have fueled Rudoās resentment towards injustice and self-blame.
But Kyouka doesnāt have the established relationship Rudo shares with Enjin, furthermore has a strict role to fulfill.
I think, in Chapter 170, her āif you canāt use your Vital Instrument, you resort to physical violenceā ties to seeing someone be driven by emotions to act first and think later (consistent with Rudo), and works as a diagnostic criteria to calm someone down. Fundamentally, Kyouka canāt provide emotional support to Rudoāsheās a stranger, heās enraged, and there's the whole Hell Guard reputation working against herābut she can offer physical exertion, which I believe is both an intimidation tactic to get Rudo to stop and reconsider inciting violence and her own version of support.
We know the Nijiku family persist with self-reflection and internalising their faults to overcome them and self-reflect before acting, proved by her lines in the Chapter (thank you, Kyouka āyou scream like a babyā Neytiri). So when Rudo blames her for Enjinās ādeathā, she brings up the possibility that Enjin died due to his recklessness. Nothing less than direct, she shocks Rudo out of his rage then reassures him Enjinās alive. In a way, I believe the lesson is short-lived rather than dragged out to ensure Rudo doesnāt collapse into regret, and because chastising someone to learn can push them into the opposite direction.
One thing I wanna note about the Nijikuās, I believe their self-reflection indoctrination comes from a personal experience thatās accentuated by the Hell Guardās training and their noble background, though I could be having a JJK moment.
A second note: there are parallels to when Enjin agreed with Mymo and said ā[Amoās] uselessā and how Kyouka confronts Rudo: both make Amo and Rudo feel the gravity of their actions before bringing a form of reassurance, in emphasising autonomy and pragmatic aid.
Rudo has a strong sense of justice, experienced inequality and institutional betrayal (blame the victim, save the persecutor; authorities harm instead of save), and has internalised resentment towards these systems. He can be vindictive at times, suggesting ā[Amo] needs a beatingā in Chapter 38, but I would argue him lashing out is a response for being the Scapegoat at a personal and systemic levelābeing told to learn and grow while not experiencing the āsatisfactionā of the perpetrator doing so, while not having anyone to model what it looks like to learn and grow. AKA: Rudo is Midra confirmedāāI have endured more than enough.ā But guilt and shame always follows, along with repentance and growth, and I think Chapter 170, specifically with Kyoukaās interactions, will be a turning point in how Rudo grows.
TL;DR: Enjin and Kyouka r hot and teach angry child what the cost of reckless, unbridled anger is. Enjin gives an emotional lesson to Rudoās physical lashout, and Kyouka gives a physical lesson to Rudoās emotional one. Both allow him to vent and open up; one is more comforting than cutting.
Tin-foil hat theory: The Watchman has something to do with the manifestation of Rudoās angerāif not derivative of itāas hands are a common motif (Tamsyās pinky, Bundusā Jinki, Mymo Kirk, Momoaās Jinki, Enjin, Mankira, the hands stuck in the trash beat heart, etc), especially with violence being associated Rudoās gloves/hands/arms.
Not even a tin-foil hat theory, but: I wouldn't be surprised if the Hell Guard have a "Blue Horns" squad (that may focus on intel, tactices and behind the scenes enforcement), or at least a Red vs Blue Oni (if that isn't already Zanka vs Kyouka/Goka) going on in the new arc. I bet a fanfic on it.
Finally: All's well that ends... not as bad as it could have. Thanks 4 coming 2 my TedTalk!!
tamsy agrees to you pegging him and youāre absolutely electrified with a mischief he labels as devious. the strap-on molds against the swell of your waist as though it was destined to be there, a flimsy dildo engulfed by latex and lube. youāve come prepared with an abundance of positions youād fuck ruthlessly in his pink rim. the flavor of his submission awaiting the tip of your tongue. you canāt wait to taste it, relish it with saliva that accumulates on your wet muscle before grinding it between your molars.
but instead, youāre just strapped against a wooden chair, your ankles and wrists bound by familiar ultramarine strings, your thrashing deemed useless by sore wrists and jagged huffs. your rebellion is a pin lost among the hay as tamsyās hands find solace along the curve of your shoulders, his hole clutching the dildo attached to your hip, sliding up before slamming back down in controlled strokes, meek whines flitting from wet lips. he may have gone a size too big, but that isnāt much of a concern.
i put on my green wig. i dot my face with freckles. i slip on my blue and white jumpsuit and my vr headset. i sit on my knees, on a lime green yoga mat, and i hump tamsy caines to oblivion. 12 quick thrusts. a spank on his right cheek. 5 quick thrusts. spanks on his left cheek like i'm playing taiko no tatsujin. 3 hard thrusts before my vr headset slips. i adjust, then stick my thumb into his butthole. i pound him into oblivion until i roar for the crowd to hear.
everyone is laughing at me. but i get the last laugh, for i have fucked virtual tamsy caines in my midoriya cosplay.
āIām bored,ā you drawl, twirling the silken tresses splaying over your chest like a makeshift blanket. Honey blond strands spool around your fingers and slip as you scoop up the navy undercurrents, entwining them into a maritime ribbon. āTamsy.ā
Your name lingers in the air in the same singsong tone, paper rustling under his finger when he flips to a new page. You crane towards the leathery hardcover and trace the gold lettering emboldened into its spine, worn of its lustre from perhaps decades of palms holding the same place as he does now. He taps the front cover, near a woman framed in the same golden sheen, face long since worn back into the dented hide.
Thereās only so many boring evenings you can spend fleshing out the rest of her portrait, and just as few where daydreaming of his slender fingers brings temporary relief.
You sigh, loud enough to be heard over the page turn, and arch back across his thighs until his eyes come into slanted view. His butterscotch irises glide along the text even as you test his persistence with a firmer tug; when you yank with more force than intended, he digs into your cheeks, immobilising your face in the steady cradle of his palm.
The book snaps shut, then lowers to your delight.
Dark brows lift at your mischief, the corners of his mouth twitching into a purse that his crinkling eyes betray as a facade.
āEver the persistent creature. But then, youāve always known that.ā The novel settles onto the side table, his place lost when the cover falls with a muted thud. He doesnāt wait for an answer, just as you donāt bother responding with the obvious. āTell me, how long do you intend to whine?ā
His thumb finds your lower lip and drags slow along the curve, tracing the supple shape. Your tongue darts out to wet the tip of his digit, and his gaze softens as he smears the dampness back over your skin, coating the swell until it gleams dewy.
His hair drapes over your chest when you release and reach for his arm. One hand curled over, the other under, you stroke along his forearm, mapping the inferred strength of his dainty but solid frame, and find satisfaction when you give the lean curves a light squeeze.
āUntil I have your attention.ā
āHavenāt you had enough,ā he sighs, more statement than question. āNo matter. You have it now, so what is it?ā
A smile curls up, most devious when his thumb gives way to two fingers. Tender, they trace the outline of your lips, skimming the contour so delicately that your giggle stifles into an exhale through your nose, then dip into the wet seam.Ā
He repeats himself, so low and gentle you almost forget to speak.
āI'm bored."
The labret shifts as his mouth parts with an expression neither irritated nor patient. His gaze drops to your throat and lingers until it bobs, before narrowing to the fingers teasing your mouth.
āI wonder if all this trouble was worth the effort,ā he chides, sarcasm as slick as your intentions, āfor a meager two words.ā
His fingers push past your lipsāwide at first, spreading to caress the smooth walls of your gums, then join to flatten your tongue beneath them. The bone of his knuckles clip your teeth as he inches deeper; all too obedient, you curl and tighten around him, coaxing your throat loose until his hand rests flush against the threshold.
He basks in your warmth, apprising you of the depth he's claimed and how much further heās willing to go. A purr rumbles from his chest when you swallow down the hot urge to gag, throat shifting helplessly around his fingers. Only then does he stir, his digits dragging languidly along the groove of your tongue like the whole, boring evening is free to do as he pleases.
āIf youāre so bored, I suppose this will keep you busy.ā
Your hands climb to anchor around his wrist, guiding the slow pace of his intrusion while you purse around him and lap from the thin webbing between each finger down the creases along the underside. The pressure of your mouth rocks him shallow until he plunges deep of his own accord, overriding your rhythm with roguish delight. Saliva pools faster than you can manage, flooding until friction dissolves between his skin and yours, lips sealed so tight that each suck produces a squeak at every chance.Ā
Head tipped back, your eyes flutter shut, breath gliding over his palm and warming the delicate veins marbling his hand as the fullness in your mouth consumes your inhibitions. Deeper, an inch more than before, you work around him, swallows pushing his fingers to the ridged palate of your mouthāsalivating, growing pliant, eager to please.
The heat of his stare lifts from you. A shadow eclipses your face by the time his fingers go slack and idle on your tongue, full reign granted and yours now to use as you please. With restlessness melted into the wet heat of your mouth, you suckle to soak his skin into a prune, soft, muffled noises accompanying the dry crinkle of pages turning.
āTheres a good girl. I knew you could keep quietāāhe puffs out a laughāāmostly.ā
Wait i saw your post about tamsy and kids and i honestly feel like he would baby trap you but not want the fucking kid šāļøjust had to get that out there
YES!!! heād do exactly that too! knock u up and leave. ooohhh wait, i just got an idea (me brainstorming this in realtime š).
heāll probably stay alongside u during the span of ur pregnancy; rub ur breasts once they start to ache, fetch u odd concoctions thatāll sate ur cravings, ease all ur doubt on u being a mother (āur nurturing tendencies is already an important quality of being a mother. iām absolutely positive that u will do splendid.ā), help u come up with names for the baby (if itās a boy, how does ālindoā sound? āaureliaā if itās a girl?), rub moisturizer over the swell of your belly to relieve any itchiness of the stretched skin, participating in regular checkups with ur practitioner to ensure everything is still going smooth. iām talking whatever u need or want, tamsy is there to fulfill that requestātending to u through each trimester.
heāll even be there as u give birth, enduring the various pressures u squeeze his hand with, reassuring u that uāre doing a wonderful job. and once that baby is born, and its small frame is cradled in ur arms, uāll look up at tamsy and smileāheās an amazing partner and heād be an even amazing father.
then queue his lack of presence once uāre finally able to bring the baby home. his promises start to feel empty and his affection seems dull, mundane. u canāt help the suspicion that curdles in ur mindāan overflowing matter that taints the sidesāthat his absence is all because of u.
im gonna be so honest, i really canāt see tamsy wanting children for the sake of an ideal family he can come home to cherish and pour his utmost affection onto without there being a sadistic layer that riddles underneath.
you might want a child attached to your hip, cooing nothing but gibberish sentences while the other tugs at the leg of your pants, asking when they can get another snack as they sloppily wipe off the evidence of the previous from the corner of their mouth. to you, everything seemed to align once your first child was born. your astonishment at what you and tamsy had created gleams brighter than the solid gem wrapped around your fingerāchiseled gold embedded with luxe diamond. a chevron-shaped ring you received under zealous yeses.
and the beam that tamsy shows is bright too. but for a reason thatās vastly different from your own. this small child is the ticket to your autonomy. it serves as a way to keep you barefoot on marble flooring, keep you as dependent as the child embraced in your arms. he relishes the demise of the self-governance you were so tenacious to hold onto, watching it crumble with a delightful red on his cheeks. he wouldnāt have it any other way.
my first time writing the reader eating a characterās ass instead of the other way around. tell me how i did and leave a 15% tip lmao
heād be opposed to the idea in the beginning, of course. his ass has never been prodded by any slimy appendage from any partner who had the mind to do so. heād make it his duty to let out a chaffāāyou live on the ground long enough and itāll deteriorate you into an ass eater. put that one in the books,āāand wave you off like some disobedient mutt that tore through their ownerās shoes.
heās tougher to convince compared to bro or gris but youāve grown accustomed to his obstinacy, even found methods to break the barrier and rebuild it into something pliant. if thereās a will, thereās a way.
and your way was reliant enough to finally be able to tug the hem of altoās pants and boxers down, shoved underneath the plump of his cheeks. you lick and mark the pale fat with blues and reds that blossom on the surface before feeding them your wet kisses.
you start slow, just for him. heās relatively new to this after all, and you wouldnāt want to overwhelm him with your shameless ardor.
āfeeling good?ā the question slides off your tongue with a tinge of nectar, something sweet. he grunts in response. it reads as indifference but you catch him grinding his cock onto the table in front of him.
just as stubborn as they come.
you spread his ass with caution, feeling him flinch at the ministration before relaxing. your tongue trails up the sides until it reaches its mark, right at the center of his hole. you know he made sure to bathe prior to letting you go down on him because the trace of cardamom is noticeable. your tongue teases with small circles then slides further down, nearly touching the area where his gooch lies.
ādammitā¦ā your head follows in tandem with altoās thrusts as he sought for some sort of release. his cock red and angry under the pressure of stained oak.
Notes: giving me 3some practice I see-some... š š i read Alto and Regto and totally forgot about their dihs, oopsies
Tags: bj + mild choking, one slap, soft brat taming, PIV, two older men š¼
Word Count: 2.4k
āWhaddya think of Alto, little lady?ā Regto croons.
Your gaze drifts from the thick curls brushing your nose to the fuzzy trail ascending his navel, past the thicket tapering across his pecs, then settling onto the lazy grin waiting for you. He cocks his head to the side and dark strands spill across his face, casting a shadow his steely eyes pierce through.
āWell?ā
A low hum vibrates in your throatāa futile attempt at answering while the savoury weight of his cock rests against your tongue. So you close the distance, buying into the warmth of his pelvis and inhaling long and deep until his heady musk fogs your mind. Lost in his scent, you bob slowly, lips curled over your teeth as you hollow your cheeks, tighten your gums, and lap at every inch of him with what little room you have, savouring his brackish aftertaste.
āWhat was that?ā His thumb caresses the curve of your cheekbone, callouses scraping against flushed skin. You nuzzle deeper into his palm, relishing the way he cradles you like he owns you. āYou gotta speak up if you want us to hear you, sweetheart.ā
You try again, but the words melt into a moan that trembles down his length as he grinds forward. A choke rises from your throat, eliciting a groan from him at the wet muffle. Then, just as smoothly as he eased in, Regto eases back.
Inch by inch he pulls away, allowing your tongue to drag across every vein that marbles his underside. Your shoulders strain, palms sink into the duvet, nails catching in the seams as you lean further and further, desperate to keep that overpowering fullness in your mouth. But the teasing bastard keeps drawing back until he slips free of your lips with an obscene, glistening pop!
Saliva dribbles from your swollen lips, connecting you to his rosy tip in a dainty string that dips before coming undone. Ragged, your breaths caress his length as he smears the slick between the bow of your mouth. Before you can gulp down a proper breath, he thrusts back in.
Your throat convulses as he flattens your tongue and lingers, thick and heavy, savouring your warmth, then withdrawing completely, leaving you to drool and splutter for air.
āYou shouldnāt talk with your mouth full,ā he coos, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, grin sharpening at the way your nose crinkles.
āDirty tricks,ā you mutter. āI donāt know him well enough to answer.ā Each syllable rides a shaky breath as your hips rock backwards of their own accord, jaw working side to side to soothe the ache in your stretched muscles.Ā
Regto swipes the saliva trickling from your mouth, smearing it back across your lower lip with a prying thumb. You nip at him, hissing when coarse hands tighten at your waist, leather creaking as fingers dig near your hips. Once his thumb catches firm between your teeth, you swirl your tongue against the pad and suckle until he exhales a low hum.
āOld man,ā you add, baring your teeth in a defiant smile.
Delight creases his eyes, stoking the blue into a predatory flare. He bites his lower lip and rolls it slowly between his teeth. āOh-ho. Old man?ā
You scrape your teeth along his digit before releasing him. āHow else to describe you?ā
He barks a laughāechoing the chuckle behind youāand the warmth of his palm vanishes from your jaw.
Your vision jerks to the side and snaps back, a welt searing your cheek in a prickling flush. The crack rings in one ear as shock ripples through your veins, buckling your limbs and coercing your cunt to flutter and clench tight until it dissolves into molten desire that leaves you even slicker and cruelly emptier.
You gape up at him, wide-eyed and shining with perverted thrill. āWhat was that for?ā
The question spills out as a delighted whine and fades into a drawn-out moan when Alto strokes over your puffed clit. He glides deeper between your folds, pelvis grinding flush into the curve of your ass to coat his length in the drip of fresh slick. Your chin dips with the rush, only for strong fingers to prop you back up, forcing your heavy-lidded gaze back to Regto.
His eyes track the curve of your glossy lips, narrowing in satisfaction where heat throbs in your cheekāno doubt a blemish rising to the surface. A smile curls the corners of his mouth before his eyes flick over your shoulder.
āShe likes to play coy, huh?ā Alto hisses, breath coasting down your spine as he soaks his cock through your folds. Thumbs caress deep into the soft flesh of your hip, tender, as if apologising for Regtoās roughness.Ā
You squirm desperately against his thighs, but he digs in harder, holding you just shy of taking him. Before you, Regtoās cock twitches, glistening with a film of saliva that coats him down to the base. He grips himself and gives it a gentle shake, wetting a patch of dark hair with a loose spittle, then squeezes your cheeks between finger and thumb to mould your lips into a pout.
āEspecially when we have guests around,ā he sighs, aligning his leaky head with your mouth before smacking your lip with a dewy thud. Tentatively, he smears the salty-slick taste of him across your skin until your mouth shines glossy. āYouād think she wouldāve learned by now.ā
āI have no idea what youāre talking about,ā you mumble, darting your tongue out to lick the wet slit of his head.
Regto exhales as he curls his fingers into a loose fist and strokes down the robust swell. āYouāre always talking back to me,ā he tuts. āDid I not teach you your lesson hard enough last time?ā
A dopey smile melts across your face, squishing against his fingers as you gaze up at him. You lean heavier into the downy mattress and roll your hips shamelessly back into Altoās waiting length. Regto hisses when you stick your tongue out and caress the sensitive ridge of his cockhead, collecting a bead of arousal with a quick flick.
āThere are lessā¦ roundabout ways to punish a lady,ā Alto chides.Ā
You flutter at his gravelly voiceāhusky, each word punctuated with a distinct, uncharted accentāthen arch with a sigh when his gloved hand scales up your torso. The coarse leather raises shivers in its wake, from your navel and all the way up to where he cups your breast. āIf you roughen them too much, theyāll lose the desire to behave.ā He palms in firm handfuls, massaging your soft weight into your chest. āI hear itās best to encourage them instead.ā
Your mouth falls open on a gasp when he perks your nipple into an aching peak. Regto surges forward.
Even as your teeth scrape along his shaft, he pries you wider, pushes until your whimper bubbles deep in your throat, and groans from your wet heat. Tears prick your lids. A glaze clouds your vision, blurring his face as he feeds you inch after thick inch until your nose flattens against his base. Every helpless swallow tightens around his head; every stifled moan induces a throb against your tongue as your throat bulges to accommodate him.Ā
āAtta girl,ā Regto murmurs. His fingers climb past your temple and bunch a fistful of your hair, tugging until your neck strains and your mouth invites him impossibly deeper. āThis oneās feisty. Likes to bite back.ā He grinds until a gargle hums around his girthāsweet, innocuous, and all too compliant. āIsnāt that right? Ohāyou canāt talk, can you?ā
The roots of your hair stretch taut, blooming a tingle that spreads across your scalp and down your spine. Your lashes flutter, blinking away tears as you coax your jaw into relaxing.
Heās gentler todayāa small mercyāand patient enough to allow your lips to curl over your teeth and seal around his length, rather than locking your head in place to use you as he pleases. Still, the ache burns at the corners of your mouth. And with the leather grating over your tender flesh, biting until your waist flinches at every pass, your suctions pulse then pause as Regto lazily rocks into you.
He hums, nonetheless, satisfied with your effort, and you preen under the sound, swaying your hips in a filthy little wiggle that earns another appreciative groanāand one from the man who claims your breasts with both hands, firm and steady so you don't tip over.
āIf this is what you call punishmentā¦ā Altoās abrasive fingers drag over your nipples, the uneven seams teasing while he gropes in famished handfuls that make you clench. āI can see why she doesn't learn.ā
Your answering moan vibrates down Regtoās cock. He tilts your head, guiding you into a smoother angle while he fucks your mouth with languid strokes.
āMm, maybe.āĀ
Lost to your encapsulating warmth, Regto indulges with thrusts angled to entice more of those slobbering chokes. Each push wedges deeper, caressing the back of your throat while you gulp as if to swallow him whole. Deeper, until your chest heaves. Deeper, until you intoxicate yourself with his scent, drunk on the weight of his cock.
Your breasts massage together as Alto draws you backward. You whine in protestāeven Regto grumblesābut with firmer pressure, he pulls you away from Regtoās length. He keeps drawing you back until your knees sink onto the mattress, thighs spreading when your back meets the solid wall of his chest.
Stubble scrapes your skin as Alto nuzzles into your neck.Ā
āYouāre ruining my groove, old man,ā Regto groans. His hand replaces your mouth, slathering his cock with your slick while his gaze remains fixed to where Alto rests hot between your folds.
āIf you want her to behaveā¦ā He tweaks your buds between gloved fingers, distracting you as he lines himself up. āShow her what sheāll miss out on.ā
A cry tears from your throat the moment he pushes inside.
Your hands fly up to clutch his forearms, nails biting in as he stretches you open, slow, thick, and terribly filling; every inch drags over raw nerves, his girth distending your fluttering walls as you buck and pant to escape the burn.Ā
āThereās my girl,ā he coos into your ear, groans seeping into your skin. āThere you are.ā
You whine, seeking the reprieve of his mouth by leaning into his groan. But he's too farāan afterthought drowned by the relief of your unattended core yielding to his upward stroke, no longer teased with the possibility. He stills just long enough for you to steal a shaky breath before he draws back and drives deeper, stealing it away when he drives into your sweet spot with enough force to tighten your chest.
The grit of his gloves snags your perked buds, scraping delicious friction across your chest. Your words dissolve into a messy symphony of moans that rise and fall with each snap of his hips; he dips low then thrusts again, nuzzling his way inside to bury himself to the hiltāto claim every slick inch until your body begins to surrender, cunt softening around his girth to take more.
For a brief second, your eyes meet Regtoās just as his name slips from your lips in a broken drawlāthen Altoās, tangled together as the slap of skin against skin echoes with your shared desperation of hips grinding into one another.
āMy?ā Regto challenges.
His erection strains as he bucks into his fist while devouring the sight of youāyour head lolling heavy against Altoās shoulder, the way your breasts spring each time Alto snaps forward. He eyes the way your nipples squeeze under those international fingers, the glossy ring of liquid sex shining around Altoās base as your cunt clings to suck him deep.
āYouāre just getting to know her,ā he gripes.
Altoās laugh fans across your neck, rich with warmth. āIām fond of her,ā he murmurs, teeth grazing your earlobe, palming your breasts with reverent pressure. āMaybe Iāll take her away and keep her all to myself.ā
Heat flares in your belly, pooling between your thighs and coiling tighter as he strokes along your walls. He grunts through gritted teeth, hips falteringāredeemed by a particularly deep thrust that punches a cry from your lips.
Alto smirks and cranes forward until you catch his eyeācrimson and gleaming with satisfaction.
Regto huffs. āYeah right. She likes me more, donātācha, sweetheart?ā
You clench at his praise, hips rolling back as your head tips in helpless agreement, their names blurring together into one dripping moan; the world blurs as you lose yourself in the way Altoās bucks satiate your cunt, sparking pleasure high into your chest, all-consuming and all-devouring.
Transfixed. Altoās irises lure you in, the rings widening and shrinking as if pulsing out in contracting waves. Heat mellows into a warm hum thrumming between your thighs as he pulls out so smoothly you only register the loss when he lowers you back onto your hands and knees.
You peer over your shoulder, gulp when a silver brow raises at you, gaze darting back up at Regto, then returning to Alto.
āI like him,ā you breathe, looking past the frost-tipped fall of his fringe and into those intense eyesāand, more importantly, the fulfilling reward they promise to offer in exchange for your compliance.
āHuuh?ā
You settle until your forearms brace on the sheets, offering yourself fully. Cool air caresses your soaked folds, needy and dripping with desire; Alto accepts your invitation with a bristly finger swiping along your sex before claiming the curve of your ass, fingers sinking deep as he squeezes the soft flesh into his palm. You arch lower, cocking your head to gaze up at Regto without strain.
āI like him,ā you repeat, mellowed out.
Regtoās eyes narrow in mock betrayal. āYou traitor,ā he teases, shifting on his knees and angling closer to your smiling lips.
āSheās a good girl, my friend,ā Alto murmurs. His touch skims from your ass up the length of your spine to nestle at your nape. The thick head of his cock slides between your folds, this time prodding your entrance with less tolerance. āI think she deserves a reward, no?ā
āYeah, yeah. Whatever.ā Regto tuts, bringing his tip to the seams of your mouth. He taps his tip against your lower lip once again. āNow open wide for me, dear.ā
Notes: cream cheese smeared across my lips. drooling into bread. dozing off three quarters asleep. fat split in my lip from tripping up the stairs. thought tonight was thursday(? it is sunday). written sleep deprived and edited in the opposite of a coma. i hope you enjoyed *three heart emojis and a smile emoticon* iām off to sleep like count clitula.
okay random ass question but what ethnicity do you headcanon Tamsy to be?? with all heās done I feel only a white boy is capable of all thatš but Iāve seen ppl hc him as Filipino or Wasian before and I think thatās pretty cute too
big ass grin on my face omg bc you and me both on the wasian hc
i don't usually think about ethnicity headcanons 'cause they can be hard to pin sometimes, but my HEART AND SOUL SCREAMS he's a Wasian king š¤ā¼ļøā¼ļø
Filipino is cute!! but if i had to choose, i'd say he's Chinese purely because of the red thread of fate theory he has going on and the hanfu-style clothing he wore on his day off!!
honestly, I did consider him being half-Singaporean too (but that was off of vibes :^) or Japaneseāfrom a region influenced by Chinese cultureābecause of the pun his name. but i'm sticking to my guns he's half Chinese.
as for his white side, I imagine him to be from Western European background, so... from any old European monarch or typical Victorian England (since that's what the Sphere reminds me of).
so... he's British 'cause it's funny. lol. Tamsy is half-Chinese half-British šāāļø
tho i love the headcanon of him being half-Korean š„ø
tamsy is shitty enough to hide your painkillers when you need them the most, especially during your period. it gives way for his excuse to rub his palms against your lower belly, the softness melding between his fingers. his body heat brings you mild relief. it shows through a sigh. but your adamancy enthralls him, he wouldnāt bother being with you otherwise.
āthose pills are better than your scrawny fingers.ā your words are trimmed with irritation but you make no effort to move from your spot. said digits trail over your mound, stealthily avoiding the area thatāll turn this into something erotic. he knows you know that blood isnāt his concern, he likes the messāan artist starts with loose strokes on their canvas before revealing its true beauty.
āi thought you enjoyed it when i did this?ā his thumb circles your navel. ābesides, those pills are no good for your health.ā
āyour tenacity is no good for my health,ā you look over the valley between your breasts to find wheat embellished in gold. āi can feel the impatience bubbling in me.ā
āyou might just be bloated.ā
you scoff. āget off me,ā your body languidly twists to remove him from your frame and you heave an annoyed sigh. āiāll find them myself.ā your gall is molded into entertainment by his hands, youāre too fun to tease to introduce you with a rougher treatment, not as of yet.
Wait i saw your post about tamsy and kids and i honestly feel like he would baby trap you but not want the fucking kid šāļøjust had to get that out there
YES!!! heād do exactly that too! knock u up and leave. ooohhh wait, i just got an idea (me brainstorming this in realtime š).
heāll probably stay alongside u during the span of ur pregnancy; rub ur breasts once they start to ache, fetch u odd concoctions thatāll sate ur cravings, ease all ur doubt on u being a mother (āur nurturing tendencies is already an important quality of being a mother. iām absolutely positive that u will do splendid.ā), help u come up with names for the baby (if itās a boy, how does ālindoā sound? āaureliaā if itās a girl?), rub moisturizer over the swell of your belly to relieve any itchiness of the stretched skin, participating in regular checkups with ur practitioner to ensure everything is still going smooth. iām talking whatever u need or want, tamsy is there to fulfill that requestātending to u through each trimester.
heāll even be there as u give birth, enduring the various pressures u squeeze his hand with, reassuring u that uāre doing a wonderful job. and once that baby is born, and its small frame is cradled in ur arms, uāll look up at tamsy and smileāheās an amazing partner and heād be an even amazing father.
then queue his lack of presence once uāre finally able to bring the baby home. his promises start to feel empty and his affection seems dull, mundane. u canāt help the suspicion that curdles in ur mindāan overflowing matter that taints the sidesāthat his absence is all because of u.
my first time writing the reader eating a characterās ass instead of the other way around. tell me how i did and leave a 15% tip lmao
heād be opposed to the idea in the beginning, of course. his ass has never been prodded by any slimy appendage from any partner who had the mind to do so. heād make it his duty to let out a chaffāāyou live on the ground long enough and itāll deteriorate you into an ass eater. put that one in the books,āāand wave you off like some disobedient mutt that tore through their ownerās shoes.
heās tougher to convince compared to bro or gris but youāve grown accustomed to his obstinacy, even found methods to break the barrier and rebuild it into something pliant. if thereās a will, thereās a way.
and your way was reliant enough to finally be able to tug the hem of altoās pants and boxers down, shoved underneath the plump of his cheeks. you lick and mark the pale fat with blues and reds that blossom on the surface before feeding them your wet kisses.
you start slow, just for him. heās relatively new to this after all, and you wouldnāt want to overwhelm him with your shameless ardor.
āfeeling good?ā the question slides off your tongue with a tinge of nectar, something sweet. he grunts in response. it reads as indifference but you catch him grinding his cock onto the table in front of him.
just as stubborn as they come.
you spread his ass with caution, feeling him flinch at the ministration before relaxing. your tongue trails up the sides until it reaches its mark, right at the center of his hole. you know he made sure to bathe prior to letting you go down on him because the trace of cardamom is noticeable. your tongue teases with small circles then slides further down, nearly touching the area where his gooch lies.
ādammitā¦ā your head follows in tandem with altoās thrusts as he sought for some sort of release. his cock red and angry under the pressure of stained oak.
