Riddle is not only incredibly touch starved but it is also that everything he happens to know about relasionships is because he has read it in books, he can be awfully innocent when it comes to getting things further than holding hands and small pecks, and even that makes him incredibly flustered because, again, he is touch starved. He needs time to get used to be in a relasionship, to recive physical affection and even to get used to be kissed before spicing things up, otherwise he will feel assaulted to some extent, but when he is ready he will let you know by actually clinging to your side, and even after the first times Riddle just grows used to cling onto you whenever you deepen the kiss, there is always a gasp before soft whimpers because he is so easy to overwhelm, and yet he is also so easy to grow addicted to the feeling of having you so close too, to be connected even in this way, his mind may barely be able to fully registrate it but that won't stop him from craving for more, to cling to you in a shyly but also greedy way, to whimper like if pleading to don't stop, not yet, not so soon
જ⁀➴ Trey Clover
Love and affection with Trey is always followed with playfulness, with some gentleness that is a quiet expression of that same sincere love, small touches and staying close to you, holding your hands together and slowly getting closer into the embrace, twirtling together in a half dancing way with shared laughs, that it is how it always things start with him, is something he likes to keep things spiced up in his own way. When you kiss him Trey is quick to close his eyes and correspond, he is not shy in the slightest and will never decline a little kiss, althoght, he normally doesn't gets surprised when you deepend the kiss, he rests his back or even sit down were he can to be able to get lost under the kiss, just like in any other time he is quick to follow your lead and, unless he has other urgent matters to attend, he will never try to break the kiss (just to take off his glasses, something he is always bothered with), it is surprisingly natural for him to fit at your side, he is quick to open his legs and dragg you closer to him, to keep you over him or even sit on your lap just to continue making out, not only he has not shame but also is really easy for him to scalate things, wich means he will end up being a mess
જ⁀➴ Cater Diamond
Not only he almost never shy away from affection but also he is quite open with his love and the more time you two spend together the more affectionate he gets, of course kisses are always small pecks on the cheek or lips, playful and quick, at least when others are around because if there are not prying eyes Cater has no problem with going all for it. He is quick to deep the kiss once you two are alone, he sits down somewhere or even lay down completely before pulling you by your shirt to connected your lips, he wastes no time before opening his mouth enought so your tongues can met while grapping his arms around your neck to don't let you go (sometimes even holds the back of your head and tangle his fingers in your hair when he feels specially needy) his legs always move to let you be in between almost instinctively, sometimes he even graps his legs around you, he is so shameless when is just the two of you that he doesn't even hold back the gasp and soft moans in between the kisses, specially when your hands find their way under his clothes to hold his waist, even his back arches a little and his chest press against yours
જ⁀➴ Ace Trappola
There is a big diference between how much Ace flirts and jokes and how much Ace can actually handle, he may always be teasing you and saying that can handle everything you would throw at him and yet he is pretty quick to get embarrased when you start to deepen the kiss, althoght, it isn't the kiss itself what makes him end up all embarrased but the way his body reacts. When your hands hold him under his clothes he jolts, when you lean over to deep the kiss and when you open his mouth to let your tongues met he gasp, his whimpers are muffled because of the kiss and it doesn't even take him long before his body start to shake a bit, something between the embarrasement and the anticipation, even there is a part of him that is trying to fight back the excitment, he should not fall so easily, he even wants to push you away but that side is quickly shut when your hand hold him firmly against you, your legs tangled together to press your bodies imposibly closer, like if you two were always meant to be one, it is that what disarms him completely, is that what lead him to melt under your touch but also what makes him cling onto you and become greedy, not planning to let go of you any time soon
જ⁀➴ Deuce Spade
You may have to lead him and teach him throught your relasionship and yet that doesn't let aside the fact that Deuce is a gentleman, he is always trying to be a good boyfriend and keep in mind that he has to treat you right, that is why the moment you go further than pecks on the lips he is completely overwhelmed already. It isn't that he doesn't like it, hell, Deuce feels excited and even somewhat aroused the deeper your toungue reaches for his, but he simply can't fully process it, he clings to your clothes for dear life as he tries really hard to at least understand what he is suppoused to do, shuting his eyes close and trying to follow your rythm while also trying to underestand it (wich, ultimately, make him even more overwhelmed) and just end up going out of instinct, trying to correspond just end up on him kissing you back eagerly, it pushed him to start gasping and even moaning softly more than he expected but right now he is too busy trying to grap his mind around what it is happening to even care, he can be filled with embarrased later, and he will feel even more embarrased when he realize that he has finally understandood what he has to do, but at least he will be ready and will not make a fool of himself like the first time
･.｡.:*･ 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Riddle Rosehearts finds himself in trouble: both overwhelmed and enchanted by a relationship that ultimately proves he is not just a boy devoted to rules, but someone deeply influenced by (Name)’s perversities. And what if, in the end, such a discovery only makes him feel better?
･.｡.:*･ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔!! male submission, praise kink, nipple play, oral sex, anal sex, licking, marking, men crying (😋), aftercare, GN!reader.
･.｡.:*･ 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 4.122
･.｡.:*･ 𝑨/𝑵: I’m Brazilian, so English is not my native language. I’m even taking a course, but I’m a lazy creature, so I just threw this fanfic into a translator and hoped everything turned out fine. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this story, and I’m very happy to finally post something on Tumblr after 4 years of just reading here! <3
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Riddle Rosehearts thinks he is going insane. Perhaps he has already crossed the line of madness and reached something beyond it.
His reason no longer flows as it once did. His body shows no hesitation. His senses are dense and confused.
He does not understand what is happening, and the lack of control over the situation frightens him just as much as it fascinates him. A polished upbringing and oppressive restrictions, though they surrounded him his entire life, now seem distant and insufficient to stop him. Whether that is good or bad, he does not know.
The mixture of sensations is dreadful, shifting in imprecise waves. The feeling of shame is slowly dissolved by others even more overwhelming, replaced by delight—but also by the fear of accepting this change as part of his nature.
The dorm leader is not to blame. Certainly not. Because if his routine had remained monotonous, inflexible, and full of rules, there would be no worries.
The problem is that (Name) is a creature scarcely human. They may share the same appearance and thoughts, but Riddle is certain there is little of that supposed fragile humanity. If it were otherwise, his mind would be sound instead of hypnotized.
Where magic is lacking, something sinful takes its place and dominates. It tears apart sensitivity and fosters a promiscuous desire, strong enough to be considered a drug. And the redhead fears he is addicted.
You are a perverse existence. And your instincts act only under the command of that perversity.
Rosehearts notices this in the way (Name)’s tongue moistens the skin of his stomach, trailing upward to reach his ribs, sucking a darker freckle along the way, threatening to reach his chest.
The trail of saliva makes his skin glisten, along with sweat and a vivid crimson flush. There is a clash of temperatures, confusing him. The tongue traces him softly, yet pulls such absurd sounds from him. And the saliva, turning cold from the air conditioning, contrasts with his body, which feels on the verge of combustion.
As if that were not enough, wherever (Name)’s hands roam—squeezing, caressing, consuming—an even fiercer flame arises. Riddle loses awareness of everything around him, leaving only you, reducing him to this mess. Though he has no doubt he will lose his mind if you do not stop massaging the sides of his thighs so gently.
Seven, he cannot even believe he spread his legs so willingly. The mere thought tightens something in his groin.
Devastating. The boy whimpers, yet does not even try to pull away. His fingers clutch the sheets with such force, and his feet do the same, sinking into the mattress.
And yet—could it be the way you trace his freckles? He has never seen anyone adore such small, nearly translucent marks that scatter across him in such abundance.
Some people hate having freckles; others cherish them as one of their most beautiful traits. Riddle never took a stance—he did not care, had no time to, and simply accepted them as part of his appearance.
Until (Name) began to touch them, tracing over each tiny spot with a ghostly touch, as if afraid they would disappear if handled too roughly. Forming heart-shaped patterns, admiring the way they spread across his slender body, more abundant on his shoulders than his calves.
Until (Name) began to kiss them, lingering in slow affection so each one received the same amount of care. Lips drag across his skin, sending shivers to such obscene places. The redhead rolls his eyes at the softness, the quiet smacks, the eager tongue—always restraining itself, and failing, from devouring him whole.
And so, Rosehearts begins to feel beautiful—praiseworthy, even. Like an abstract painting, worthy of love through the attentive perspective of a devoted artist, so passionate they find inspiration in the smallest details.
But there are moments when he ceases to embody this muse and instead becomes a dirty secret—one he refuses to reveal.
Do you do this on purpose? Or simply out of a desperate desire to erase the distance, joining bodies in heat and thirst? The impression, however, seems innocent, and Riddle fears he is misinterpreting it—that, in the end, he is the promiscuous mind behind everything.
Because he cannot restrain himself when pressed into the bed. Sensitive, lying face down, with (Name) above him, pushing him into the mattress.
His poor ears, so used to reprimands, are greeted by new words filled with precious meaning. It sounds like honey, like opera, like prayer—and the boy desperately longs for the praise to continue in that low, muffled tone.
(Name) says, rubbing their cheek against his freckled back and falling in love with the pattern, that they will paint fine, beautiful lines. They will connect each spot and form constellations, shining like stars upon his skin.
Riddle should handle it well, savoring the poetic license and being its target. But heavens—the timbre of that voice, the words so carefully woven, all with the sole purpose of making him feel special. He gets lost in this domestic tenderness, reflecting on how profane it is to see it with malice.
The warm breath accompanying those words and the fingers playing with the unruly hairs at the nape of his neck, combined with everything else driving him delirious, only send more shocks through him. Like electricity, striking his nerves and fueling his arousal.
He is grateful that (Name) does not even imagine his glans—soft, peach-shaped—leaking thick drops of pre-cum. Growing hard and overwhelmed simply from being loved sincerely.
And truly, there are moments when the emotion is too much. Rosehearts is sensitive, a virgin, and nervous with any bold or romantic touch. He nearly cried during your first kiss—and he cries every time the overstimulation becomes too much.
It is so embarrassing! The infamous Riddle Rosehearts, dorm leader of Heartslabyul, representative of the Queen of Hearts, strict devotee to rules, babbling nonsense while sobbing. Who would expect such a low state from him?!
Whenever he feels his eyes welling up, about to reveal the intense storm of emotions stimulating him, he hides his face in his arms and bites his lower lip. As much as he can, the redhead suppresses the needy sounds and childish expression—furrowed brows and a pouting lower lip. He does not want (Name) to see him in such a vulnerable state, so far from the composed, powerful image he strives for.
The boy cries a lot—the kind that starts and takes time to stop, leaving wet trails along his plump, flushed cheeks. It is humiliating, to say the least, how immature he seems.
At least, that is Riddle’s perspective. Because (Name) thinks very differently.
His tearful face is simply enchanting. It tests their self-control, makes them want to bend him over the nearest surface and make him feel so good he starts crying out of happiness.
Their boyfriend already looks like a beautiful Victorian doll, but those long lashes, wet and heavy with endless tears, give him such a gentle charm. Not that of something fragile and helpless, but of someone who feels deeply and makes every emotion seem beautiful and complex.
You love his swollen, trembling red lips, his voice breaking into loud sobs, his hands struggling against you to hide his shame, and his small, sniffling nose.
It is delirium, temptation, and motivation. (Name) cannot resist the charm—and does not even want to try. Their lips grow wet as they kiss his warm cheeks, moving up to lick away the tears that bless their tongue with a salty taste, leaving soft pecks on his fluttering eyelids.
And because the crying comes from pure happiness, it only makes things worse. Far from his ideals and utterly absurd—but the redhead loves receiving such careful attention, as if he needed to be comforted. That explains why he keeps tugging at (Name)’s hair, guiding them to give him more and more.
Yet Riddle keeps crying. You have more work to do. The kisses never end.
“You have a hungry mouth,” he dares to think such impure thoughts. But if (Name) keeps trying to take every inch of his small body, it is not untrue.
Rosehearts once held the shallow belief that he would grow bigger. The reflection in the mirror, however, proves otherwise. His gym uniform, bought in larger sizes, only fuels mockery.
He is not athletic, he did not grow taller, and his appearance is delicate. A recipe for disaster—and further encouragement for perversion.
The boy’s chest can hardly be called a chest at all. With barely any definition and freckles scattered around, there is nothing particularly worthy of attention.
The problem is that (Name) would build a cult around that poor, unremarkable chest, as if it were the most adorable thing in the world.
You cannot look away when his nipples stiffen from the cold, peeking beneath a slightly transparent white button-up shirt—leaving little to the imagination. Nor can you stop salivating at the thought of the taste of his warm, fragrant skin. Strangely enough, roses and sweat make a perfect combination when it comes to the redhead.
His areolas are small, sensitive circles tinted in a peachy pink that deepens toward the tips. Said tips are so flat and thin, as if shy to reveal their full potential.
Because, heavens, Riddle’s chest has plenty of potential. It may seem simple, though to your eyes, it is the same as glimpsing a lady’s ankle in Victorian England.
Every time he unbuttons his shirt, it is torture. Exposing a neck usually covered, with well-defined lines and an Adam’s apple barely forming—you could paint it in countless shades of hickeys, bringing color to his porcelain pallor. Lower still, reaching the collarbone, the bones stand out beneath thin skin extending to the shoulders, adding to his doll-like appearance. And when the final buttons are undone, unaware of the hungry gazes staining his pure existence, (Name) would love to sink their teeth into those soft nipples.
And if the redhead notices, he will try to cover himself again. Try to mutter scolding words about his lover’s lust. Try to pretend he does not enjoy being pushed onto the bed, with (Name)’s lips stealing the air from his lungs as they begin to kiss the outline of his areolas.
The skin there is thinner, more sensitive, suffering under firm suction. It looks strange—a desperate pull where the nipple blends into the rest of his chest, the tip of a tongue daring to brush against untouched places just to make Rosehearts moan.
Riddle grows more incoherent by the second. His hands waver between pulling closer or pushing away, unable to obey a mind corrupted by pleasure and self-condemnation.
No biology book ever taught him that male chests could be so susceptible to ecstasy. No one wrote about how they could be stimulated and cherished in such a way that would leave him feeling helpless—and feminine.
How many biological rules have been broken? Did those rules even exist? Should there not be a rule that (Name) must let him climax while his chest is being sucked?
“You have a hungry mouth,” he insists on the thought.
“Use it wisely,” he doubts that is what he truly wants.
The sensation of teeth tormenting one of the buds, rubbing it against the other in unbearable friction, sends a wicked rush of dopamine through his veins and up to his head—his eyes rolling back, his mouth open as he cries out and whimpers. The tongue, sometimes joining in out of an obsessive need to touch him, takes advantage of that trap between teeth to toy with the swollen nub in slow, dragging motions.
In the brief moments when (Name) lets go to breathe—because his lover always forgets to breathe when they are together—the warm air hits, making his nipple stiffen again. The stimulation feels like a delicious numbness, his heart pounding in his chest, his cock throbbing against his sea island cotton underwear.
Such refined fabric wasted by his premature release. How disgraceful.
Even apart, Riddle can still feel the memory of that mouth—the warm, erotic trap refusing to let him go, bringing tears to his waterline. A nervous need blooms within him, his newly discovered clinginess urging (Name) to return and take the other bud, neglected and jealous.
You must be fair. So of course, without resistance, the other nipple is claimed.
The redhead feels it being pulled, sucked, drained under (Name)’s ministrations. In response, he can only dig his nails into your back, scratching harsh, vivid red lines into your skin.
When he looks at himself in the mirror, there is nothing simple or unremarkable left. They could be described as something out of a pornstar—if Riddle even knew such things existed.
They shine in a bruised color, completely ruined and throbbing. No longer flat, now swollen into firm peaks. The peach tone replaced by a vivid red, bordering on indecent. Perhaps it is the bite marks, the blooming purple bruises, the saliva highlighting everything further.
And depending on (Name)’s satisfaction, his nipples suffer under curious fingers ready to pinch.
Such bold actions. So wicked. The dorm leader should punish you for driving him to such degradation.
Ah—and he does. Though it backfires.
Really, who is unhinged enough to get aroused by a signature spell? (Apparently, both of you.)
Rosehearts never considered other uses for his spell. It was the peak of his pride as a mage—efficient, functioning exactly as needed.
It existed only to control rebels and their many forms of disorder, preventing the collapse of his harmonious rules.
Yet those functions do not apply to (Name). Instead of repelling your indiscipline, it seems to draw it closer and closer.
Until there is no distance between your bodies.
When the redhead realizes, he is already panting desperately. One hand tangled in your hair with little care, the other gripping the space between collar and lock.
The sound of metal clinking mixes with obscene noises, and Riddle finds himself forced to wrap his legs around your head, trying to crush your skull with his slender thighs.
His self-control is a distant memory. Controlling how tightly he grips, scratches, pulls—it all feels impossible. Lost in ecstasy, he can only dig deeper, cry louder. And when his hand slips from the collar, he does not hesitate before pulling again, even harder.
The sudden force makes (Name) choke—though perhaps the boy’s cock deep in their throat was already doing that. You salivate, see your lover’s hand reddened from gripping so tightly, and cannot help but look at him with adoration.
The taste of his skin is a mix of poorly spread lotion and sweat—a warm, sinful ambrosia that reduces you to addiction.
Looking up, he seems like the embodiment of omniscient, libidinous power. Like a deity, he does not need to speak to keep you on your knees, your tongue dragging along his length, lingering in slow movements, tracing faint veins or a daring freckle near his neatly trimmed, flushed pubis.
Or your lips abandoning the shaft only to suck the head harder, leaving it swollen, flushed, dripping more pre-cum as your hand massages his soft, freckled balls.
Rosehearts is reduced to something inconsolable. Cutting moans with sobs, arching his back into a beautiful curve, hips offering themselves to you, clumsily seeking friction he cannot achieve alone.
You must hold his waist, guide his thrusts, let him rub against the roof of your mouth; you must hold his hand, feel him squeeze as the tension in his core threatens to snap; you must massage his calves, strained from the pressure of his knees against your head, his toes curling and kicking the air.
He always had a strong voice—commanding, meant to be obeyed. Deep, authoritative, intimidating.
But the sounds he makes now? Seven—there is nothing eloquent about them. They are sharp, tearful, utterly unlike his composed speech. He begs for things he is ashamed of—more kisses, the feel of your palm—yet they escape him anyway, raw and strained, scratching his throat enough that he will need lemon tea for days.
The redhead hates this side of himself, trying his hardest to remain logical and authoritative. It is almost dreadful how vocal he sounds, echoing through the four walls like a mocking reminder of his promiscuous state.
Rosehearts feels like scolding you, reprimanding you for making him stutter and gasp so disgracefully! Even though he has perfectly rehearsed the speech in his mind, his tongue feels numb and his vocal cords seem addicted to that single sound. He cannot utter anything proper before another moan is torn from him, his fingers roughly tugging at your hair.
Everything feels like jelly—dense, without resistance. Each of his senses is heightened to an extreme: trembling touch, blurred vision, the lingering taste of (Name)’s gum, the scent of floral perfume mixed with sex, and his cursed hearing filtering nothing but the wet sounds of your tongue moving against him.
He swears he finds it indecent, improper, disgusting. He swears that, at first, he tried to stop you—rambling about hygiene and manners, struggling futilely to lift his hips from your face, feeling your breath against him while trying to cover himself with flushed hands.
(Name) simply agreed. “Alright, dear, no problem.” No insistence, not even a pout of disappointment. And, contradictorily, that frustrated him in such an offensive, repulsive way that he looked down at you—at those eyes watching him with patience and love—with a mix of resentment and surprise.
What had he become? Why did he want you to take back every word?
They stayed like that for a long moment, staring at each other, Riddle making no move to get off your face, nor to stop kneeling, his thighs poised to close around your head.
When you smiled at him—an obvious provocation, challenging him to truly pull away—Riddle understood two things: how much he hated your wicked attitude, and more importantly, how much he hated the power it had over him.
He did not take a stand, but resisted little when he felt your hands wrapping around his hips, massaging the bone and sliding lower. The pressure on his knees, already aching from holding his weight, slowly eased, stirring a conflicting feeling somewhere between dread and anticipation.
The sensation of a breath against such a sensitive place makes him flinch, a terrifying electricity running through his veins. The redhead bites his lower lip, stifling a desperate whimper that threatens to escape and place him in an even more compromising position.
He glares at (Name), perfectly at ease between his slender thighs, as if there were no better place to be. Being himself, even while feeling your nose brushing him, your lips smiling softly against him, and a hand stroking his leg in light caresses, Riddle cannot stop worrying—about being too heavy, doing something wrong, not being good enough.
But when he feels your wet tongue, gently teasing him—bold, unbelieving, almost absurd, yet patient as it urges him to grow used to it—his countless doubts suddenly shrink into the overwhelming task of enduring this unbearable sensation. His focus narrows to the sudden stimulation, the sticky warmth of saliva, and the cruel shivers that climb from his toes to the tips of his red hair, striking him like sparks against his aching need.
Rosehearts feels your lips, full and insistent, trailing hungry kisses, never satisfied. The suction, alternating with careless licks, creates muffled, wet sounds against his flushed skin, which only looks more abused with each rougher grip.
Sweat drips down, mixing with the haze that leaves him dazed and indecent, using what little breath he has left to moan incoherently. He tries to cover his mouth, pressing his face into his palm, digging his fingers in so he does not dare let those sounds escape—to the open air, or worse, to (Name)’s attentive ears. It is cruel, leaving marks on his soft cheeks, but he only wishes to spare himself the humiliation, even as he secretly melts under the heat pooling between his legs.
But his lover shows no mercy. Taking his wrist with deceptive gentleness—so unlike the relentless rhythm of their movements—you pull his hand away. One hand keeps him from silencing himself, fingers threading through his as he squeezes back when the tension inside him threatens to burst; the other guides his hips, teaching him how to move, slow and clumsy at first, yet allowing you to savor the way he learns, the way his body yields, the way Riddle falls apart.
Great Seven… Queen of Hearts… how had he allowed himself to fall into such disorder and indulgence?!
Rosehearts tries to understand these mysteries of life—especially how the one who made him arch his back, cry, scream, and fall apart could still be so gentle with him.
Afterward, his tyrannical mind is drowned in a sluggish haze, dulling his ability to think.
He dislikes the idea of dependency, even more the thought of vulnerability. And yet, when (Name) returns with a tray of his favorite snacks, water in his finest cup, and a damp cloth to clean him, he cannot help but feel that perhaps the situation is not so unfavorable.
Sometimes he stays lying in bed, comfortably sinking into piles of soft pillows, forcing you to take care of him. Sometimes, out of stubborn pride, he sits up—trembling, visibly exhausted—and insists on helping.
But regardless, it always ends the same way: the infamous Riddle Rosehearts resting against your chest. His breathing steadies, the soreness fades into a pleasant numbness, and your fingers playing with the ends of his red hair help quiet his lingering unrest.
He will, without a doubt, scold you—complain about the indecency, about the positions you forced him into, about your overwhelming desire. And all (Name) can do is admire him, cheeks still flushed, delivering such a long lecture while unconsciously leaning into your touch, curling closer against you.
And no matter how much he sighs and insists he is utterly exasperated, he would never dare fall asleep without giving you one last set of kisses. Different from those shared before—yet carrying the same passion. Soft, sweet, enough to bring a small smile to his swollen, cherry-colored lips.
(Name) is, without a doubt, a perverse existence. But even if Riddle remains a fanatic of rules and order, it does not mean there is not a small, equally perverse part within him.
After all, love is a force that manifests in many ways—strange, beautiful, and unexpected.
SMAU idea!!! Characters when they want to fuck and write about it to the reader, begging, hinting, speaking directly and all that. I just want a male reader in smau arrrrrghhhh 😭😭😭
They ask you to have intimate time with them.
#a.n. : They specified in the next request that they wanted twisted, so let's fucking go. I forgot to post this yesterday because of the damn court, sorry. 🌻
MASTERLIST is here.
Version: Housewardens (you're here) — First Years — Second years — Third Years.
!!Warnings: top!dom!male! reader, sex of the characters is not specified (so you can imagine any genitals for them), explicit content, but nothing too much, heat cycle (Leona's part), pet names, Azul is crying (IDK warning it or not), mention of skirt (Kalim's part), mention of hentai (Idia's part), mention of thigh choke (Malleus' part), you send nudes to Vil in response.
Halló Saw! Do you have any sub headcanons about the headwardens, I wanna know your thoughts on them >.<! Keep up the good work !
ooh, yepyep!!
riddle rosehearts
🫀 i know it’s a pretty common headcanon, but he probably has a mommy kink. who would’ve guessed! you must be gentle, you must be tender with him.
🫀 also, please give him lots of praise. though he'll try and act humble or dismissive, he can’t help but melt with each “good boy,” with every “you’re doing so well,” all “i’m so proud of you”s.
🫀 i think he always strives to please you, to make you happy and satisfied with him. he’ll never object when you decide it’s his turn, however.
leona kingscholar
🫀 he always wants to touch you, for you to touch him, just to feel your skin against his. lions are very clingy, after all.
🫀 he likes to have you on top of him, covering as much of him as possible. put your hands on his chest, on his arms while you slowly grind down on him, his hands aimlessly wandering around your body.
🫀 if you’re feeling particularly mean, cuff his wrists to the bed. he’ll hate it, but it’ll be quick to get him desperate and begging to touch you.
azul ashengrotto
🫀 BODY WORSHIP AND LOTS OF IT. both for him and for you. it’s stressful to look after both the dorm and the mostro lounge, so he needs some way to destress, doesn’t he?
🫀 after a bit of convincing, he’d agreed to keep in his merform a few times. he’ll be embarrassed, but you’ll prove to him that he looks good, that he feels good in any way you can.
🫀
kalim al-asim
🫀 he’s a very enthusiastic sub. anything you ask, he’ll do. you need a massage? no problem! you wanna try something new? of course! you need a face to sit on? he’s right here!
🫀 he loves light touches. pet his hair, trace your fingers on his skin, maybe even enough to tickle him. the tickling can hurt a little after a while, but his giggling is contagious and seeing you smile is worth it all.
🫀 aftercare is exceptionally important for him. not because he particularly needs to be taken care of, but because he awaits cuddling eagerly.
vil schoenheit
🫀 he doesn’t sub often, but when he does he loves to be pampered and doted on. pleasure doms are his absolute favorite.
🫀 he always wears the best lingerie he can find just for you—and he doesn’t certainly doesn’t mind if it’s torn in the process.
🫀 i think he’s very confident as a sub. he still loves to tease and egg you on. he isn’t bratty in a disobedient sense, but in a “surely you can do it better/harder than that” sense.
idia shroud
🫀 he can vary from day-to-day: sometimes he’s bratty, sometimes he’s needy, either way he’ll be whining the whole time.
🫀 make up some rules and games for him! keep a star sticker board for rewards. maybe you can hook him up to a vibrator and have him color in a coloring book, and he earns a punishment if he colors outside the lines.
🫀 roleplaying! he loves roleplay, whether it be through cosplaying, making up your own characters/roles, or even just coming up with a new dynamic to try out.
malleus draconia
🫀 he’s very needy and will worship everything about you. you are beautiful, charming, elegant regardless of how you carry yourself, even your flaws are adored.
🫀 very much a service sub, your pleasure is his own. he’s able to cum just from tasting you, seeing you satisfied is enough to pacify him.
🫀 despite what he may seem, he’s very sensitive. ears, horns, tail, hands, torso, everywhere. it doesn’t take much to make him squirm.
"riddle, don't you know that patience is a virtue?"
"just make me feel warm and cozy; don't worry, i'll give you a prize"
"you're such a goodboy~"
characters: riddle rosehearts, gn!reader (has a cock, but can be a strap on)(mentioned to be taller)
warnings: nsfw, dom/sub relationships, cockwarming, praise kink (riddle) MINORS DNI
a/n:
- riddle deserves to be told he's a goodboy~
"Mhmm, Riddle, say ahh."
Riddle pouted, simultaneously giving you a glare as he opened his mouth for the sweet-tart piece. You grinned in pleasure before he resumed his work, his handwriting looking shakier than usual if one were to squint. He felt himself shivering slightly from the chill of the air conditioner running in his room. He had nothing on him; his naked body had goosebumps peppered all over his smooth, flawless skin.
You leaned forward, pressing your chest against Riddle's back; your large frame easily drawfed him. It made you subtly thrust into Riddle's pussy, making him whine and gasp before shifting slightly. Your frigid hand on his thigh made him pause before glaring at you.
"Please, my rose," Riddle begs. Although he absolutely loves the feeling of your cock resting comfortably inside his warm pussy, his walls squeezed tight around it, it was absolute torture for him to do this for hours. Ever since he started working, you immediately shed him of any clothing, locked the door, and thrust yourself into his pussy (lube on, of course, to prevent pain onto your queen), Riddle had been suffering from the amount of teasing you gave him. Subtle thrusts, warm nibbles on his collarbone, the warmness of your breathes sending chills down his spine- it heightened his senses to the point that Riddle felt the teasing was unbearble.
"Please what?" Your sly grin wasn't helping Riddle's growing anger. "Use your words, my queen? What would you like me to do?"
Fuck- Riddle doesn't care anymore. His cock, poorly neglected and hard as ever, hangs between his legs. The tip is dripping bits of pre-cum as Riddle shifts and not-so-subtly tries to gain some sort of friction. He desperately wants you to pound into him until he's blacked out absolutely screeching your name at the top of his lungs. Athough, he's too embarrassed to say this aloud.
"Could you...please?"
You only tease him with a finger trailing down his warm skin, sending shivers along his body behind its path. "You have to be specific, sweetheart."
Riddle turns, face red with embarrassment as he mumbles under his breath. "Please fuck me."
With your hands, you easily pick him up, sliding him off your cock. The emptiness felt in his walls made Riddle frown; it all felt so wrong, he wants to be nice and stuffed, warm with his walls clenching tight around your cock. He pouts, crossing his arms angrily, his legs swinging above the empty space. He sits on an empty spot where his work wasn't cluttering the space, his bottom feeling chills when the warm met the cooling woods.
You stand, slightly looking down at him with a wide grin on your face.
"Open wide for me," You coo, slamming your hands on either side of his body. Riddle shudders and obeys, obediently spreading his legs wide, and right before you slam your cock smoothly in, hitting his prostrate exactly.
Riddle's eyes are blown wide as he struggles to deal with the overwhelming and sudden pleasure. He looks absolutely adorable with his crimson hair all fussed up, his body flushed with lust and desire, and he was all yours. Moans escape his lips as his hands clenched onto the desk to prevent himself from falling apart with your repetitive thrusts.
"Fuck- you feel so good! Good boy~"
Riddle feels something pooling in his abdomen, walls clenching tighter around your cock as you groan. Something about being called a 'good boy'...it felt so pleasing. Especially when he was your good boy.
You seemed to get the same thought as you smirk.
"Mm? You like that, don't you? You like being my good boy?"
Riddle throws all decorum out the wind by nodding furiously. You only clamp onto his thighs because thrusting even deeper if that was possible.
"You like me hitting there, don't you? I can feel you clamping around my walls just like that; you're doing so well."
You ram into his prostrate over and over again; your hands wrapped tight around his pale thighs, so tight that he was sure that bruises would form. Riddle's back arched as he gasps for breath, a trail of drool leaking from the corners of his lips. He makes such pretty noises, little whimpers, lewd moans, and quick gasps as if his life depended on it.
"I'm getting- ngh- close!"
You only increased your pace as Riddle moans, wrapping his hands around your waist before pulling you closer, letting your length be dragged in until you are literally pressing on his prostrate. The dorm leader, who's normally poised and calm, looks at you with desperation in his eyes.
"Oh, I'm cumming I'm cumming, Ahhh!" Riddle's eyes roll back as his back arches off the table and his orgasm hit hard and strong. He blacks out immediately, his walls squeezed tight around you; all his senses were muffled out as Riddle ascends on his high. However, you don’t have enough brainpower to control the way that your hips thrust, erratic and rough, as you fuck him through it, your skin slapping loudly against his as you soon cum into him almost immediately afterward.
You slowly pull out of him, your cock slick with cum, watching as Riddle's eyes flutter. There, now you can see those beautiful ashen grey eyes of his, his pupils dilated from the lovemaking just now.
"Are you okay, my queen?" You murmured, picking him up. Riddle lazily groans, his pussy feeling slightly sore yet he remains the energy to pick up his pen to erase any trases of his and yours orgasm. Speaking of which, the creamy white liquid trails down his thighs, dangerous close to dripping all over his ruby red carpet.
"Mhmm, I'm fine," He slurs. You chuckle as you carry him bridal style and set him gently on the marble sinks. With gentle movements, you use a soft towel to clean him, cooing almost motherly when Riddle's head almost nods off to sleep, almost falling off. He groans but complies but the routine happens over and over to the point where his eyelids feel like the weight of the world. He slowly blinks, bearing registering the world around him.
"Riddle," You shake him. He startles awake, noticing how your body had the scent of his rose-shampoo. Had he been so sleepy that you had the time to take a shower? You pick him up adruptly; a tiny yelp escapes his mouth.
"Let's go to bed," You press a kiss to his forehead. "Go to sleep, Riddle. You were such a good boy."
The last thing Riddle registers is the smooth silky sheets of his bed and your warm embrace before he finally nods off to slumber, you quickly following behind.
KINKTOBER DAY TWO — first time with riddle rosehearts
contains :: gn!reader, softdom!reader, sub!riddle, riding him, safewords (stoplight system), praise kink, fingering (for about two sentences), sex with emotions, nipple play, small dick riddle, blowjob (deepthroat??? i don't know how deep his cock can go it's up to you to imagine), slight edging
kinktober mlist !!
"Remember, red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means you're okay," you repeated, and Riddle took a deep breath as he nodded. Even after weeks of discussing about this, he still had his inhibitions. What if it goes wrong? What if he doesn't know what to do and it displeases you? Not being in control was taking a bit of a toll on him, but it's not like he even knew what to do if he were in charge. "You okay?"
"Ah... yes. Green," he replied, looking a little nervous and serious at the same time. You chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips.
"Good job, pretty," you cooed, and Riddle blushed. Pretty... he wasn't really used to it, but it felt nice. With that, you started kissing down his body, pulling him closer to you as you straddled his hips, being careful not to put your full weight on him. You stopped at his nipples for a short moment, running a hand up to his chest to flick and pinch at them softly, making him whimper. Why were you... playing with his chest? And since when had he been so sensitive? He squirmed slightly, gasping when you kissed each one before moving downwards.
When you'd finally reached his hips, you skipped right to his thighs, using your fingers to trace imaginary shapes onto his skin. His breathing sped up when you looked at his half-hard cock. You knew he wouldn't have a huge dick, and this is just about what you'd expected. Looking at the real thing, however, it's even cuter than you'd imagined. His fingers twitched slightly before he grasped the sheets softly, resisting the urge to move under your intense gaze. You smiled. Everything about him was just absolutely adorable, and you just wanted to eat him up.
You let yourself lean forward, tongue darting out and giving the head of his cock a lick. Riddle moaned, muscles flexing as his grip on the sheets tightened.
"You can touch me, Rids. You don't have to hold yourself back," you assured, and he moved with slight hesitance, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. "What's your colour?" You asked, even though you hadn't done much. Today would be all about him.
"Green," he confirmed, shifting forward just a little, and you continued your ministrations once he gave you his answer.
"Tell me when you're close." This time, you wrapped your legs around his cock entirely. It wasn't difficult, given that he was on the smaller side, and he mewled at the action. You slowly took his cock in your mouth, breathing slowly as you did so. Riddle moved his hand to the back of your head, lightly tangling his fingers in your hair as his vision zeroed in on you. By the time you had all of his inches in your mouth, his thighs were trembling slightly and his eyebrows were furrowed. He took deep breaths as you looked up at him, and you felt his cock jump in your mouth. You began bobbing your head up and down, and he cried out as you did so.
The warmth around his cock was so pleasant, beyond pleasant, even, and so foreign to him. He began canting his hips, attempting to match the rhythm you've set for yourself. He would've done it easily on a normal occasion, if only he weren't losing his head right now. He got even harder as he registered the beyond-lewd sounds made as he fucked your throat, and he wrapped his legs around your head, his grip on your hair tightening with the action.
"F- I think I'm close!" He moaned out, and as soon as he said that, you pulled away, leaving his now fully erect cock standing, tip a bright red that reminded you of his hair. Riddle whined, an absolutely heavenly sound, as he thrusted his hips into nothingness. His mind was foggy, and he was just so upset. Why did you stop? Did he do something wrong? You leaned in, kissing him passionately and wiping those thoughts away.
"Colour?"
"Green," he tried to calm the slight shake in his normally calm voice, and you tried to stop yourself from grinning. Oh, he was already a wreck in your hands.
Before he could ask why you stopped, your hand moved to your hole, circling it a few times before pushing a single finger in. Riddle watched with partial amazement as you sighed, adding a second finger after a few moments, then a third. "I tried to stretch myself out a little before... but, just in case," you rasped, knowing that he was wondering. You nudged him backwards, letting him lie down on the bed completely.
When you pulled your hand away, placing it on his stomach, he knew that it was happening. You were finally fucking him, and he was about to lose his virginity to you. The mere thought of it made his head spin faster, and he moved his hands down to rest atop yours. He was much more relaxed now, and you grinned at that.
You aligned yourself with his cock, slick with precum and saliva before you slid down it. Riddle's expression was priceless, contorted by pleasure as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Noises spilled out as you grinded yourself on him, and you readjusted your hands, intertwining your fingers with his.
"I'll start moving now, okay?" He nodded with urgency, whimpering when you started riding him. You started slowly, making sure to watch every twitch of his body and how lewd the sensitive man looked, a thin line of drool slipping past his lips and sweat coating his lean body. "You're so good for me, Riddle. So pretty too," you moaned, and he pressed his head back into the pillow. High-pitched sounds escaped him as he pressed his lips together harshly, only opening his mouth when you leaned down, kissing him and muffling all his moans.
"I- I think! Soon!" He yelped, and you sped up slightly. He tried his best to push his hips up, panting loudly as he looked at you with glossy, lovesick eyes. You nodded, burying your head in the crook of his neck to suck at his collarbone.
"Cum for me, Riddle," you muttered, and as if on cue he let out a final cry, and you felt his warm cum coat your walls. He convulsed with pleasure, whimpering as he gripped your hands tightly. You rode him till his orgasm faded, all while kissing him. When Riddle's breathing finally calmed down, you got off of him, and he wrapped his arms around you softly, looking at you with a bashful expression.
"You okay, Rids?" You asked, and he nodded.
"Yes. Thank you for checking in, love," he said, still just a little breathless, and you couldn't help but giggle.
"Wanna go clean up now? Or do you want to lie down for a while?" Riddle hummed softly, blinking at you slowly.
"...Maybe in a while. I'm a little spent..." He muttered, and you could tell that he was fighting sleep. You smiled softly, stroking his hair and letting him bask in the moment. He relaxed in your arms and you held him closely, listening to his heartbeat as he drifted off. You'll get up in a while to clean him up. For now, you lay beside him, enjoying the moment.
TY ANONN <3 I’m going to assume you meant dom!reader here but please send in another ask if that’s not what you meant !!
dom!gn!reader, sub!riddle rosehearts, rough sex
“H-ah!! Please, please, ohmygod—” Riddle cut himself off with a barely-muffled scream as you fucked him into the mattress. “Do you want me to stop, baby? Is it too much?”
“N-nno—fuck, it’s so deep, s’good, harder please—” “You sure?” You were already gripping his hips so hard that it was going to leave bruises. Every time you slammed back into him, his ass bounced on the bed. “Yesyesyes please, I need it, want it harder, gnnh—” He wailed as you sped up, fucking into him so hard and fast that the sound of your skin slapping was the only thing heard above Riddle’s desperate sobs.
You grabbed onto his red hair and pulled, forcing him into your lap and making him take you even deeper. His eyes rolled back as his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back onto your shoulder, only able to make little fucked-out noises every time you pushed back in. He was so overwhelmed with how deep and fast you were going he couldn’t even make any other sound.
Riddle’s neck and chest were covered in bite marks and bruises.
He only went more stupid when you grabbed his throat as leverage for fucking him. His neck looked so much prettier with your hand wrapped around it, fingertips cruelly pressing into the bitemarks. Riddle tightened around you, hands going up to claw at his throat. And oh dear, that just wouldn’t do. He needs to learn to follow the rules.
He was clearly about to lose it completely, but that was too bad: you still had quite the long night ahead of you.
Making Jamil/Leona/Riddle sit on your face. Them throwing their head back from your soft wet tongue so deep in their ass, how could they not feel so fucking good. They're begging you to stop but not getting off or saying the safeword.
They're in their whole new world while you're only just using your tongue, their eyes rolled back, face flushed with tears pouring down their faces, they just have this look in their face that begs for more but can't take anymore.
They all say they'll get you back for this but they're too fucked down to even think of things to do to you to regain their dignity back. The prettiest and most desperate moans can be heard from miles away, they're not even trying to hide how good you make them feel.
Whores
Honestly, it's what they need~
Especially Jamil/Riddle. They need a bit of stress off their back and you know just the right spots to clear their minds.
You're fingers dig so hard into their thighs you can see small drops of blood smudging onto your hands. They desperately grab at your hair, hoping for some kind of clarity (Though it just overstims them more)
You're not even sure they can think anymore, all they can do is buck into the air.
And for their empty threats, all you need to do is press a finger to their sore prostate and they'll gladly melt back into your hands.
They're so weak to you <3
hc that leona flicks his tail when he's overstim'd
