BEWARE THAT I STILL NEED TO UPDATE THIS ACCOUNT AND PINNED, BUT I AM AN ADULT! Lurker account lmaoo enby, don't let the pink fool you while I won't share my age, I am an adult!
THIS ACCOUNT ***WILL*** HAVE NSFT THINGS, BLOCK ME IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT.
THIS POST IS BEING UPDATED.
We're just doing some nonsense on this blog.
They/them | questioning...(Again... Smh...)
DNI
Look, dude, I might reblog some odd stuff sometimes, but please don't come in here if you like kids. Just don't. I'm so tired of everyone liking kids. Please just get help for your problems. Other than that, I can't think of anything else to strictly not interact with.
DO NOT INTERACT WITH MY BLOG IF YOU ARE A MINOR. DON'T. STOP THAT đŠ đŠ đŠ
hey guys so i meant to post more during this comeback (i named it comeback in my head cus idk what else to call it) but i accidentally got employed and i highkey love my job sm. it IS food service (i hate food service) but i LOVE playing barista omg itâs like those papaâs pizzaria games. and my coworkers are amazing and my gm is amazing?? and we get free food and drinks and we can eat/drink ON THE JOB?? also itâs literally an 8 minute walk from my house. iâm on day 3 and i love it. iâm also working exclusively morning shifts which is my absolute favorite shifts to work (mind u i am NOT a morning person) but anywho. i also got into football (as i posted before) and iâm back in my minecraft phase, but iâve been thinking about which fics to write so REST ASSURED I WILL POST đ«Ą
Do you have anything for spider reader? Spiders are my fav animal and they never get enough credit for their curiosity and cuteness đ
Thank you a million!
Hmmm what abt spider!reader who is literally the best sniper you could ask for.
You could sit in the same position for hours upon hours without so much as a shift if needed. You dont get antsy or lose focus like others. Ur amazing in the field, a natural at somehow sensing where enemies are before you see them.
Unfortunately, back on base ur less popular. People have certain perceptions of spiders that just dont leave, especially in the military. While others avoid you, ur teammates dont. They've long suffered many hours with u in safehouses and can safely say ur not a threat.
Ur mostly a curious, cuddly mess. When ur in a new base or hideout ur the first to stick ur head into every corner of the space, open every drawer, climb up walls to look into vents. (Yes, This means u poke around whenever the guys let u into their rooms)
Ur also extremely cuddly. Its like there's a red hot danger zone around u when ur laying on the floor. If anyone gets within grabbing distance ur dragging them to the floor with little happy hisses and clambering all over them. Soap doesnt care much, he practically lives on the floor too. But the second u grab price hes bodily hauling u onto a bed or mattress bc his back is NOT made for the floor lol.
Also yes ghost carries around anti-venom after the ONE time u got overexcited and bit him while cuddling.
Dragon hybrid!price who gets so confused by gecko!reader because you look like a little dragon.
Look, he's getting up there in age, but he didnt expect to feel broody for at least another five years! Still, when he sees you all he can think is why is the hatchling out of the nest?
Which of course means he insists on taking extra care of you! Gently guiding you to his quarters with a wing draped around you. Pushing you into the nest and intentionally heating up his body because he knows little dragons can't make their own fire. It doesn't help at all that it's usually freezing in the barracks, so prices heat is really appreciated for your cold-blooded body.
Curling up against the dragon hybrid feels natural, instinctual. The military hasn't been kind to you, trauma has made a home in your heart, so maybe you play along and snuggle up against his chest. So what? It feels nice, safe. You get the best sleep of your life, and prices instincts finally let him breathe knowing the hatchling is safe.
Soap who knows damn well you have a praise kink and will be using it to his total advantage, just not in the ways you want.
Soap always notices the small stuff with you, and fixes it before you notice its a problem. Like passing you a water bottle and smiling when you drink "perfect, dove. Let me know if you want more."
Or finding you in the mess, a single energy drink and a notebook with furious chicken scratch at your table. He pointedly sets the food tray in front of you, sits down with his own. "Be good for me and eat some proper food. Can't have my best soldier tired, aye?"
Or most notably, praising you for asking to go to medical. This is his biggest worry, after too many hidden injuries on your part. "Hm, thank ye for askin' you know exactly what I expect dont you? Always know how to deliver, too."
Every little comment piles up, makes you flustered in ways you never thought possible. Its pretty obvious you have a crush, but you assume soap doesnt. Dont worry, he just likes toying with his food a bit. All it takes is kyle getting too close to you, and suddenly hes all about honestly and his own desires. :)
Omega!ghost who genuinely doesn't realize he's an omega until well into his late thirties...
For the longest time, ghost has assumed himself to be a beta. No heat or rut to speak of, nothing noteworthy happening downstairs, scent always mild. He never considered the...prolonged and intense trauma throughout his whole life may have stunted presentation.
Not until you move into the apartment next to his.
You, some omega that still smells of milk-honey underneath that fresh scent. Too young in ghosts opinion to be living alone.
Ghost's body decides to completely skip an omega heat and jump straight to overwhelming paternal instincts. Instincts that have you waking up in the middle of the night to your weirdo neighbor in your fucking apartment making a nest.
"Dude. What the hell." You say, lost for words. Sure, you like your neighbor and you should probably be freaking out right now, currently you are too damn tired.
"You need proper rest, pup." He tells you, leaving the nest to make a good attempt at scruffing you.
"I am a grown adult, sir." You grunt, but he's stronger and you end up in the nest anyways.
It's....really nice. The nest smells familiar enough with his scent and blankets from your closet tossed in. It settles some part of your hindbrain, you've not gotten around to making a nest since moving in. Never saw the point in it.
Now, you get it. Snuggled in and dozing off, ghost moving quietly around the room, cleaning. His own purr kept low and soft, no need to disturb his pup. In a few hours the instincts surge will settle down and for a brief moment he will be convinced he was dosed with something. Then, once realizing what's going on, mentally claim you as his pup.
just bought a new strap & I'm thinking about fucking Simon Riley's sloppy hole again. need to fold that man in half BAD
TW: hint of cnc at the end đ anal, daddy kink but reader is daddy this time because itâs our turn to fuck a 35 year old man through his prime
Simon had an itch.
A shameful itch, one that he couldnât stop thinking about.
It all started because you said something during a mission- laughed into the mic at one of soapâs crude jokes and talked about strapping men down.
You.
He openly laughed, claimed you couldnât be capable of something like that. You made this low hum in his ears, the crackle of the mic itching his brain.
âYeah? Any time you want, Iâll prove you wrong.â
And Simon had brushed it off, gone back to focusing on killing whatever unlucky bastard met the end of his gun.
The offer stuck in the back of his mind, lodged between the folds of his brain and making him wonder. You couldnât possibly- could you? You were so-.. wimpy. Agreeable, anxious- you flew under his radar for a while until you transitioned and moved to 141 for field mechanic work. You werenât built like the rest of them, your muscles softer- your hands trembled at the sight of gore still.
Surely not?
After a week, he finally took the bait. Came to your door in the middle of the night, arms crossed and cock hard in his boxers as you look up at him with wide eyes. He laughed, started to push you into your room-
In hindsight, it had been a stupid idea.
Because of course you pinned him to the bed, already feeling up his thick muscle and fat. Ripping off his pants without much care, barely even noticing his massive leaking cock in your face as you got a good look at his ass.
âFuck, Simon- always wanted to see this ass out of work pants- fuckinâ incredible,â you breathed, taking in the dark hair between his legs- wet with pre. Simon struggled to stand, hissing and reaching back to swat at you. His plans were quickly ruined when you snatched his wrists and cuffed them behind his back- you had cuffs-??
âAh ah- let your daddy play, hm? Youâre so worked up, you clearly need it,â you coo, and Simonâs hit with a wave of something he cannot willingly admit as you call yourself his daddy. Itâs absurd, heâs older than you by at least five years-! But his cock throbs against the sheets, an embarrassed grunt leaving his lips.
Your fingers are already lubed up when you start stretching his whole, the strange stretching sensations totally new- totally strange.. really fucking good. It didnât make sense- you were slowly rocking open his poor hole, sighing and humming at each jerk of his hips against your fingers.
âSo silly, my little boy, hm? That feels so good, huh?â Your voice is sweet as pie, itâs a stark difference to the way youâre aggressively fighting to keep him pinned, to the way your fingers scissor open his hole. Simonâs voice was absolutely cracked, pitchy and whining as he drooled against the pillow- humiliating. It was fucking humiliating, how hard his cock was right now- how sweet and tender you sounded!
A soft pat against his face brings the man back to reality, trembling when he looks up-
And sees the biggest fucking strap dangling right over his face. The lieutenant feels like it might rival his, thick and long with some kind of- knot, towards the base?
You look down at him with a discerningly sweet grin, tapping it against his chapped lips.
âCâmon- you wanna suck daddyâs cock?â Your voice is low, banging against the inner walls of Simonâs psyche as he swallows the dildo down his throat- letâs you fuck his mouth while you moan and whine about how pretty he looks with the knot bumping against his nose. Simon canât believe this thing is actually fitting in his mouth and down his throat at all- blames you, more than anything.
Before he can attempt to swallow the knot- you pull out, making the man gasp and cough for air while you slap your strap against his cheek, slathering it over his drool covered face like youâre trying to mark him- drown him.
âSuch a good boy! Who knew the big bad Ghost didnât have a gag reflex, huh? Oh wait- I did. You eat like a fucking animal, you know that sir?â You tease, circling the man again as he squirms against the sheets.
Grabbing onto his hips- spreading his ass to crudely spit on his poor wet hole. The tip taps against it, every soft slap of your cock making his body twitch in anticipation.
âCâmon, baby- show daddy how good you are at sucking me in both ways,â you croon, and the lieutenant has half a mind to break you in half on this bed- but he canât.
Simon wants to say something, wants to snarl- but scratchy moans are all that seem to leave his lips. The noises seem to spill out as you slowly sink your strap inside, pushing him to the limit in every way possible- stretched so far the man feels like heâs being impaled.
âFuck-â is all Simon can muster, a desperate plea for mercy as he realizes just what heâs been doing to people all these years. You seem to hear his thoughts, finally taking notice of his cock and leaning aaalllllll the way over-
Sliding yourself to the hilt as you brush your fingers against his weeping length. âI knew it, my perfect little whore. So mean, just to hide the fact that youâre a cock hungry slut, mm?â Your voice is sickeningly sweet, mocking the man openly at this point.
It feels like heâs been shot, loud gasp for air escaping his lungs like youâve reached all the way up in there. His orgasm hits him so fast that he jolts back against you, knot nudging his stretched rim deliciously as pearly cum hits the sheets.
You laugh- of course you laugh, heâs a fucking loser- pathetic, idiotic- Simon grits his teeth and starts wriggling to escape.
Of course you donât let him, pinning him back down to the bed as your hips slowly start to move.
âFuck! I came- I came! Whatâre you-â ghost snarls, breath knocked out by a particularly rough thrust. You look demented at this point, drool slipping from your lip as you grin down at your creation. A pathetic man, brought to ruin by your cock- you can feel the base of the strap rubbing perfectly against your t dick. You canât let him go now!
âCâmon- daddyâs not even halfway done with you, baby.â

ââ âą ă»âžâž I like to think that PHAINON would be super obsessed with watching his cum drip out of your hole. Heâd whine as he finished, savoring the tightness of your walls for a few more secondsâbefore pulling out his cock, eliciting a gasp from your end. Your hole, oozing with his thick seed and throbbing in quick motions, would make his mouth part in admiration. Heâd watchâ and youâd feelâ the sticky white release sliding between your cheeks.Â
âSâSorry, I couldnâtââ he paused with a sharp inhale, biting his lip as he shamelessly stared at his work. âI couldnât help itâŠâ
Then, as youâd reassure him that he had nothing to apologize for, PHAINON would continue to gawk at your cunt, acting as if he wasnât the one who pounded it up to that state (even he canât believe himself sometimes (á”âáŽâ) ... )Â
Your chest heaved up and down, finally managing to catch your breath. Bit by bit, your senses were returning into place like puzzle pieces. However, his mind was still elsewhereâ a place very explicit. The carnal glint in his fluttered eyes was a telltale sign. When his ejaculation started to pool on the mattress, the poor guy couldnât take it anymore.
Youâd squeak as PHAINON grabbed hold of your legs again, pulling you down his hips with a groan. Feeling that familiar hard-on against your opening, you shot him a look, in which heâd only return with a beady, pleading gaze.Â
âPhai⊠What are you doing?â
âUmâŠâ His tone seemed embarrassed, but his wandering hands were most certainly not. âItâsâ Wellâ You knowââ
âYouâre telling me youâre hard, again?âÂ
He whimpered, crawling closer to fit between you and your oozing core. Closing the distance, you cried as his tip, raging red in need, teased against the wetness of your spread lips. It didn't take a lot for his dick to shoot up again, not when you looked so deliciously ruined underneath him.
âJust one more,â he begged. âPleaseâ Just let me fill you up again one more time.â
PHAINON was a liar, but at least he was an adorable one.Â
I think we all agree sex with Phainon would just be feral as hell. He is an awful combination of down bad and emotionally repressed. Give him an inch and heâll go a mile. The moment you let him into your bed, you are NOT leaving until heâs filled you with his spend. But the best worst part is that every time you think heâs finished, he gets himself going again by watching all his cum leak out of your used hole.
âJust one more,â he tells his, ignoring your whines and pulling your hips back, âone more, I promise.â
Phainon is a liar. One more means one more hour. One more means one more day. He has more than enough stamina and if you so much as indicate you want to be fucked stupid⊠well, who is he to deny your wishes? That is what he lives for, no?
Against the wall, your personal bath, your dresser, even the balcony is not safe. Speaking of which, youâre starting to think Phainon gets off on doing it outside. One of his hands is always gagged around your mouth, hushing you and telling you youâre being too loud and to quiet down, unless you want to be caught. He says all this, all the while his other hand is ruthlessly pressed against your clit, rubbing small firm circles around your sensitive bud, ramming his hips against yours and angling himself against that soft, spongy spot deep inside that he knows makes your head feel light and stars dangle in your eyes.
Phainon is the type to pull strings and use everything in his power to clear his schedule if it means he can spend a whole day just fucking you. Whether or not youâre conscious for that entire session is entirely dependent on how well prepared you are for him. Heâll coo at you during sex, ask if youâre too tired and if you want to rest. Itâs so condescending and he laughs when you nod yes, just to keep going like you arenât about to pass out underneath him.
âCome on, love, Iâm almost done⊠just keep it up, youâre doing so, so well for meâŠâ
Phainon would go until he shoots blanks. You may think youâre safe by then, but you arenât. He nestles his head around your legs, kissing your sensitive thighs and nipping the skin lightly, coaxing you down from your last high. Itâs the first kiss to your overstimulated cunt that you realize what he intends to do. You can push him away all you like, but he intends to feast on you while he still can.
Mydei, on the other hand, I feel you have to coax into bed. You can drop all the hints in the world, trail your hand up and down his chest, tease the hem of his pants, tell him your dirtiest fucking desires for him and heâll still tell you no (but you can best bet youâre the reason he starts praying to every god in Amphoreus. Cerces, bless him to keep sound of mind and withstand the urges of pouncing you. He is reason, he is reason, he is reasonâ) The only real effective way to get him to fuck you the first time is by inviting him to your room and then stripping yourself bare. Even then, you STILL have to talk him into it.
Mydei is a gentle lover. Heâs aware of his size and stature and how easily he can hurt you. His hands have committed more atrocities than he can count. They have torn the heads of his enemies, crushed bone and flesh, and spilled blood countless times. He doesnât want to hurt you. Goodness no. Heâd never forgive himself if he did.
Hence why you have to sweet talk him, practically beg him have to have his way with you. You have to tell him you wonât be satisfied until youâre fucked within an inch of your life and your guts have been rearranged. Taunting also works. He may be afraid to hurt you, but above all else he canât stand the idea of you being with anyone else. You are one of a few good things in his life and god forbid he fumbles this one.
âFine. I guess Iâll just go find that Delivererââ
Thereâs nothing more effective than that. Is it cheap? Yes. It is. But, it gets the job done.
In his hands, youâre going to be stretched and bent in ways you never thought possible. Poking a sleep lion is never a good idea, especially when you donât have the energy to keep up with him. But, youâve been teasing him for months on end, so itâs only fair he gets his fill of you.
Sex with Mydei can be quite slow, with three fingers stretching you wide and his tongue lapping your cunt. You have to cum at least three times before he even thinks about slipping his cock inside. If you arenât delirious by then, then youâre absolutely gone when his cock sinks inside. We all know this man is packing, itâs a struggle no matter how well prepped you are. Youâre creaming around him just from the stretch alone, and you have a moment of panic where you arenât sure heâs going to fit. But, ever the attentive lover, heâll hush your worries away and press soft circles against your clit, massage your breasts, pinch your sensitive nipples, distract you until he finally bottoms out.
âPlease, please, please, MydeiâŠâ you can whine, wrap your arms tight around him and pull him close, kiss him sloppy and messy until youâre reaching another high from him simply grinding into you.
Heâs hypnotized, hooked on the feeling of you, taste of you, everything about you. He fulfills your every wish of being pummeled deep inside, massaging your walls with every thrust, the head of his cock pressed against the most sensitive spots, with your every breath becoming nothing more than short punched out gasps.
Unfortunately, however, while Phainon is more than eager to fuck his cum inside you, getting Mydei to cum inside is an entirely different matter. Heâs so afraid of continuing his lineage in such unstable times, not to mention, he doesnât want to burden you with his child. But, once you DO convince him that itâs fine, something in his head gets rewired and the idea of âgentleâ gets tossed out when he spills inside you for the first time and sees just how excited it makes you. He then has an existential crisis because now he canât imagine sex any other way and heâs aching to do it again.
Sex with Phainon is easy because he wants to please you and fulfill every dirty dream heâs ever had of you.
Sex with Mydei is a mind game, where you have to ease him in at first, then assure him three-hundred different times that: yes, you want him and yes, you know what you are doing.
àœČđ¶ paring : mydei, phainon, anaxa, aventurine, blade x f!reader
àœČđ¶ tws : nsfw / smut, multiple of rounds, breeding kink, creampie, anal sÄx with anaxa, spanking, mydei puts you in a headlock, cockdrunk reader, hair pulling, size kink and tit play / fucking.
àœČđ¶ synopsis : when he already stuffed you so many times, but he still wants more. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
àœČđ¶ note : not proof read, sorry (or not)
â MYDEIMOS !
Your voice had gone hoarse hours ago. You didnât even know what time it was anymore, not with how many times Mydei had made you come, how many times heâd stuffed you so full of his cock you couldnât think, couldnât breathe, couldnât do anything but take it.
You were on all fours, or you had been, until your arms gave out and left you face down in the pillows, drool staining the sheets, your body limp but still trembling. Your thighs were sticky and slick with a sinful mix of spit, sweat, and so much cum. His cumâthick and hot and leaking out of your pussy with every thrust, only for him to fuck it right back in like he couldnât stand the idea of you wasting a single drop.
And he wasnât slowing down.
âMydeiâfuckâplease, no more,â you whimper, voice shaking, ruined.
He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, your spine arching sharply against his strong chest as his other arm snakes around your neck and locks you in a chokehold. His bicep flexes against your cheek, his scent all around youâspicy, warm, suffocating. His. Youâre wrapped in him, trapped in him, and youâve never felt more claimed.
âNo more?â he growls, lips brushing your ear. âYou say that every time, little thing. And every fuckinâ time, this sweet cunt pulls me in tighter, like it canât live without my cock inside it.â
You whimper again as he slams into you from behind, brutally deep, your pussy already so sore and swollen from the last few rounds that your body just twitches. Your eyes roll back. Youâre not even sure if youâre moaning or sobbing at this pointâmaybe both.
His cock feels massive. Each thrust splits you open all over again, dragging along your walls with obscene wet noises, and when he reaches down and presses a possessive hand to your lower tummy, you nearly scream.
âFeel that?â he pants, rough and close. âThat bulge right there? Thatâs me. Thatâs how deep I am in you. Stretchinâ out your guts so good, you canât even talk straight anymore.â
He lets go of your neck only to shove you back down into the mattress, your face crushed to the sheets as he lifts your hips higher and pounds into you like heâs lost his fucking mind. You can hear him snarling behind you, feel the heavy slap of his hips against your ass, and worst of allâyou love it.
Your pussy gushes around him, your body begging for more even as you cry into the pillows. Your thoughts are gone. All you know is him. His name, his cock, his cumâhim.
âYouâre mine,â he snarls, gripping your hips so tight youâll bruise. âThis pussyâs mine. Iâm gonna fill you up again, stuff you until itâs leaking outta you for hours.â
âM-Mydeiââm fullââm too full, canâtâ!â
He laughs, âYou think I care? You think I give a fuck if youâre full? Youâre gonna take every last drop. Youâre gonna thank me for it.â
Your walls clamp down on him again, another orgasm wracking your body as his thrusts grow sloppy, rougher. You feel itâfeel the twitch in his cock, the way his grip tightens as he grunts through gritted teeth.
And then heâs spilling inside you again, hot and thick, pumping rope after rope of cum deep into your womb like heâs trying to breed you.
Youâre boneless, brainless, cock-drunk and twitching as he leans over your back, panting.
But he doesnât pull out.
Instead, he stays there, buried deep, grinding slow and lazy like heâs still hungry.
And he is.
âStill not enough,â he whispers, voice full of dangerous need. âI want you dripping with me. I want your belly round with it. I want to fuck you until the only thing you know is me.â
You shiver.
Youâre not sure how much more you can take.
But Mydei?
Heâs just getting started.
Your body barely registers when he shifts you, arms sliding beneath your trembling thighs as he lifts you effortlessly into a new positionâyour back against the bed, legs bent, knees touching your chest. The way he folds you up so tightly leaves your soaked, ruined cunt wide open for him, still drooling his seed like your pussyâs forgotten how to close.
He stares.
Mydei kneels between your legs, his cock still rock hard, slick with the mess of your shared lust, twitching against your overstimulated folds. His eyes are darkâpossessed. Hungry. Like heâs worshipping what heâs broken.
âLook at this perfect fuckhole,â he mutters, dragging two fingers through your slit, spreading it, watching the way your hole flutters and leaks. âSo full of me⊠but not enough. Never enough.â
You canât speak. All you can do is blink up at him, dazed and flushed, your hair a tangled halo, lips parted and damp with spit. He leans down slowly, pressing a single kiss to your stomach.
âGonna fill this up, sweet thing,â he murmurs against your skin. âMake it swell. Gonna stuff you âtil you canât walk. âTil thereâs no question who you belong to.â
And then he pushes in again.
You cry out, back arching, toes curling as his cock spears into your wrecked cunt, inch by thick inch, until he bottoms out once more. The stretch is brutal. Delicious. Your walls clamp around him helplessly, milking him like your bodyâs desperate for his seed, even if your mind is long gone.
He groansâdeep. His hands grip your hips hard, dragging you down to meet each punishing thrust as he starts again, faster this time. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes in the room, wet and obscene, drowned only by the tiny, broken noises spilling from your throat.
âTake it. Take it all,â he snarls, voice feral. âThis pretty little cuntâs mine. Iâll breed you until you're ruined.â
He leans forward, mouth brushing against your ear, and whispers, âWhat would you do if I knocked you up right now? Hm? Would you cry? Beg me not to do it again? Or would you spread your legs wider like a good slut and let me put another one in you?â
Your cunt spasms around him violently.
âFuckâthere it is,â he growls, slamming in harder. âYou want it. You fucking love this.â
Tears prick your eyes, your body unable to stop responding. Your thighs shake around his waist, your nails dig into his back, and another orgasm rips through you, your pussy spasming around his cock, sucking him in deeper.
Mydei doesnât let up. He grabs your hips and thrusts through it, like heâs trying to fuck your orgasm out of you and stuff another one in its place.
His voice is ragged, breathless. âI can feel your cunt begging me. You want me to breed you again? Say it.â
You sob, choking on your words. âY-YesâMydeiâwant itâwant you toâpleaseâ!â
Thatâs all he needs.
He grabs your thighs, pins them down as his thrusts become savage, reckless, and then he groans deep in his chest, spilling inside you again. Hot, thick ropes of cum flood your womb, and he keeps going, rutting through his release like heâs chasing another one. Your belly squishes under his weight, already bulging from how big he is, and he presses a palm to it possessively.
âMine.â His voice is a whisper, trembling with obsession. âIâm gonna keep you like this. Round. Full. Dripping. You're not leaving this bed âtil Iâve filled you enough to keep me in there for weeks.â
Your vision blurs. Your head lolls to the side. But your body? It clings to him, trembling and soaked, aching for more.
And Mydei?
Heâs still hard.
â PHAINON !
Your thighs are already trembling when Phainon lays you back down, his warm palms gliding along the curve of your waist with reverent care. His touch is gentle, but firmâdeliberate. He spreads your legs with his knees, eyes drinking you in like youâre something holy.
âSweet thing,â he whispers, voice low and smooth, âYouâre shaking. Want me to stop?â
You shake your head instantly, breathless and already dazed. Your bodyâs sore, twitching, and filled with his cum from the last round, but the ache between your legs hasnât faded. If anything, itâs only gotten worse with how slowly he moves, how softly he touches.
His lips curl into the faintest smile as he leans down, brushing a kiss over your breast, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You arch into the heat of it, whimpering when his teeth graze you. One hand kneads your other breast, fingers gentle but possessive, tugging and pinching your nipple until youâre moaning softly beneath him.
âSuch perfect tits,â he murmurs, voice low against your skin. âSo softâso full. I could spend hours here.â
You gasp when his hips shift forward, his cock sliding against your slick foldsâalready hard again, thick and heavy with need. He groans when he feels how soaked you still are.
âStill so wet for me⊠you really canât get enough, can you?â
He lifts your hips gently and presses in slow, the stretch making your breath catch in your throat. Heâs bigâyour walls part around him gradually, your body trembling as he sinks deeper and deeper. His forehead rests against yours as he pushes all the way in, and he moans your name softly when he bottoms out.
âThere we go,â he breathes. âThatâs it, darling. Taking me so well.â
You let out a soft cry as he begins to moveâgentle rolls of his hips that press his cock deep, slow enough for you to feel every inch. Your body welcomes him eagerly, even through the soreness. You can feel the way youâre stretched around him, your body molded to him like itâs the only thing that makes sense anymore.
Then, without warning, his hand slides to your thigh and lifts your leg higher. He angles his hips slightly and spanks youâonce, a soft, stinging slap to your ass cheek.
You gasp, blinking up at him, but he only smilesâgentle, sweet, but with a flash of something darker in his eyes.
âYou like that,â he says, spanking you again. âI can feel your cunt squeezing me when I do it.â
You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to thrust harder, fasterâstill controlled, still loving, but with a rhythm that speaks of deeper hunger.
He dips his head to your chest again, sucking one nipple into his mouth and groaning against it while his cock glides in and out of your soaked, fluttering heat. The squelch of it is wet, constant, obscene. Youâre losing yourself to the pleasure again, walls spasming around him every time he rocks deep.
âI want to fill you up again,â he breathes against your skin. âWant to watch it spill out of you⊠want to know youâre carrying me.â
You sob softly, tears brimming as your body tightens again. âPleaseâplease, Phainonâwant itâwant you toââ
âI know, sweet girl. I know,â he soothes, nuzzling your cheek. âYouâll get it. Iâll give you everything.â
He picks up the pace, hips smacking against your thighs as he fucks into you with loving urgency. His hand slips between your bodies to your lower belly, pressing down gently so he can feel himself moving inside you.
âRight there,â he pants. âRight there. Thatâs where I want it.â
Your walls flutter helplessly as your orgasm hits you, sudden and hot, your entire body arching as you moan his name over and over. Phainon groans deeply, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes in all the way and stills.
His cock twitches inside you as he cumsâthick, hot ropes pouring into your already full pussy. His breath shakes as he holds you there, locked to your trembling body, letting every drop settle as deep as it can go.
âThere we are,â he whispers, kissing your temple. âYouâre mine now. Full of me. Just like I wanted.â
And as you tremble beneath him, dazed and stretched and leaking, Phainon only pulls you close and rocks his hips againâsoft, steady, as if he has no intention of stopping.
â ANAXAGORAS !
Your legs are trembling where they hang off the edge of the bed, your chest heaving, nipples still swollen from his mouth. You donât even have time to catch your breath before Anaxa grabs your hips again, fingers sinking into your skin as he pulls you back toward him with a hungry, sharp thrust.
âStill not full enough,â he mutters, voice silk-wrapped steel. âYouâre going to take every fucking drop I give you.â
Heâs not roughânot brutalâbut purposeful, bold. Every move calculated. He doesnât lose control. He guides it.
His cock is buried deep inside you again, slender hips flush against your ass as he groans low in his throat. Youâre soaked, throbbing, stretched from how many times heâs already filled you, but Anaxa just leans over you, mouth trailing along your collarbone, and coos, âYou can handle more, canât you? Donât play shy now, not when your bodyâs begging like this.â
You moan, nearly sobbing when he rolls his hips, dragging the full length of his cock through your swollen cunt. Your walls tighten around him, still fluttering from the last time he came inside you.
âYou want it,â he whispers against your ear, his slender fingers trailing up to toy with your sensitive nipples. âWant to be full of me, leaking down your thighs, marked so deep your body canât forget me.â
You nod, frantic, keening when he pinches a nipple and rolls it between his fingers, sending another jolt through your core. He watches your face the whole time, pupils blown wide, breath hot against your cheek.
Then he pulls out, slow, letting your body feel the loss of him. You whimperâuntil you feel his fingers press against your ass, slick and confident.
âShh,â he murmurs. âI told you I wasnât done.â
You feel the tip of his cock nudge your other hole, and your body tenses instinctively. But Anaxa is patient, steadyâhe leans down, tongue flicking your nipple while his cock presses in slow, opening you up with agonizing precision.
Your breath catches, your fingers claw at the sheets as he stretches your ass wider, inch by inch, until heâs seated fully inside you. Your pussy clenches helplessly around nothing, twitching, as the new stretch sends sparks flying up your spine.
âYouâre shaking,â he purrs, one hand sliding between your legs to press gently at your slick folds. âBut look at youâstill dripping. Even your cunt misses me.â
He starts moving.
Deep, grinding thrusts that force your body to take him fully, completely. The stretch is sharper, tighter, your whimpers high and breathy as he fucks your ass and plays with your clit, pinching and rubbing while his other hand twists your nipple again.
âIâll fill every hole you have,â he whispers, breath hot against your cheek. âYouâll be dripping from both, trembling and ruined. My perfect little thing.â
Your orgasm hits suddenly, violently. Your thighs spasm, your walls clench around empty air, and your cries are muffled by his shoulder as he keeps you steady. Then Anaxa groans lowâdeep, throatyâand slams in hard, staying there as he cums deep inside your ass, filling you with his seed like he owns you.
Youâre gasping, twitching, drooling a little as he slowly pulls out, letting his cum spill down your thighs. But even then, he doesnât stop.
He reaches between your legs again.
âWeâre not done yet,â he says, gently easing his cock back into your raw, stretched pussy. âOne more time, sweet thing. Gotta make sure it takes.â
And with a slow roll of his hips, Anaxa starts again.
â AVENTURINE !
âStill with me, darling?â
Aventurineâs voice is velvety smooth, slick with charm and sharp as a dagger. His hand tilts your chin up so your dazed eyes meet his, the corners of his mouth curling when he sees how ruined you already are. Your thighs are trembling, skin marked by his touch, lips parted with soft, breathy gaspsâbut you nod, needy, desperate.
âGood. Iâd hate to think I broke you this early,â he purrs, brushing his fingers down your cheek before sliding them along the curve of your breast.
You gasp when his palm cups itâwarm, firm, deliberate. He thumbs your nipple, watching the way it stiffens beneath his touch, then leans down and presses a kiss to the other one, lips soft before he bitesâjust enough to make your hips buck. You arch into him, whimpering as he sucks, teeth grazing the swollen nub with just enough pressure to keep you breathless.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to ruin you like this,â he whispers, voice dipped in velvet. âAll those little looks. All that shy squirming. You were practically begging for it.â
You try to speak, but your words melt into a moan when he pulls your nipple with his teeth, then releases it with a soft pop. His hands slide down to your hipsâgreedy, possessiveâand he slots himself between your thighs again.
His cock presses to your entrance, and he lets it linger there, not moving. Just watching you squirm, watching your hole flutter and clench, your cunt slick and twitching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. Aventurine hums, amused, the sound low in his throat as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the mess thatâs already dripping from you.
âYouâre trembling,â he murmurs, dragging the swollen head over your clit in a slow circle before teasing your entrance again. âYou want it that badly?â
You nod frantically, but thatâs not enough for him. He fists a hand in your hair and pullsânot too hard, but just enough to make your spine arch and your gasp catch in your throat.
âUse your words, sweetheart,â he says with a smirk, voice dangerous in its playfulness. âTell me what you want.â
âWant your cock,â you whimper, dazed and desperate. âPleaseâput it in, I want it so badââ
âSee?â he coos, releasing your hair just to press a soft kiss to your forehead. âGood little thing. Always knew youâd beg beautifully.â
Then, with one firm thrust, he slides into youâslow, but unrelenting. You feel every inch as he fills you, stretching you around his thick length until heâs buried deep, his hips flush to yours. You cry out, gripping his arms, thighs trembling under the pressure of it.
Aventurine groans, low and heady, leaning in to bite at your neck while his cock pulses inside you.
âFuck, you feel perfect. Like you were made for me.â He draws back just a bit, then rolls his hips in a grinding thrust that punches a whimper from your throat. âAnd this greedy little pussy? Already sucking me back in.â
He starts movingâslow, deep thrusts that make your breath hitch with every push. One hand stays on your hip, but the other slides up, tracing your breast again, toying with your sensitive nipple until youâre writhing beneath him. Youâre dripping, squelching with every roll of his hips, the heat in your belly coiling tighter and tighter.
âIâm going to breed you,â he says casually, like itâs already decided. âGoing to fuck it so deep into you, youâll still be feeling me tomorrow. Maybe longer.â
You sob softly, overwhelmed, and that only makes him chuckle.
âDonât go shy on me now. You were the one begging, werenât you?â He leans close, lips brushing your ear. âYou wanted to be full, didnât you? To carry something of mine?â
He grabs your hair again, gently tugging so he can see your faceâlips bitten, eyes glassy, tears catching on your lashes.
âAnswer me, sweetheart.â
âY-Yes,â you gasp. âWant itâwant you to cum insideâpleaseââ
He groans through gritted teeth and slams into you harder, his pace picking up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples raw from his touch, and he doesnât stop playing with them, tugging and rolling until youâre crying out his name over and over.
âIâll give it to you,â he pants. âIâll fill this perfect little cunt, fuck it so deep you wonât be able to think about anything elseââ
You unravel under him, body spasming around his cock as your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through your spine. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a broken moan, and your cunt clenches around him so tightly he falters for a second, groaning loud and deep from the sudden squeeze.
âFuckâlook at you,â Aventurine hisses, watching you come undone beneath him, his eyes drinking in every twitch and gasp. âSo beautiful when you break like this.â
He doesnât slow down. If anything, he chases your high, fucking you through your climax with a determined rhythm, hand still tangled in your hair, the other returning to your breast to squeeze and tug with greedy precision. Youâre shaking, body limp beneath him, but you donât beg him to stop. You canât. Not when every thrust makes you clench harder, makes more slick spill from your overstimulated cunt.
âYouâre going to take every drop,â he pants, voice wrecked now, the usual composure slipping as he grinds into you, faster, rougher. âI want it dripping out of you. Down your thighs. On the sheets. Youâll smell like me for days.â
Your head rolls back with a sob as his hand slides down, fingers pressing against your clit in tight, perfect circles. Heâs everywhereâfilling you, touching you, whispering filth against your throatâand your overstimulated body just keeps responding, pleasure building again so fast it knocks the breath out of you.
âA-Aventurineââ you choke, voice shaking, but he cuts you off with a kissâwet, hot, claiming.
âI know, baby. I know. Give me one more.â
With your cunt clenching desperately around him, he groans sharply and slams in one last timeâdeep, to the hiltâas his cock twitches violently. Heat floods your insides as he cums, spilling everything inside you in slow, pulsing waves. He stays there, hips pressed to yours, body shuddering through the pleasure as he groans into your neck.
âFuck, thatâs it,â he breathes, grinding his hips just once more, forcing his seed deeper. âThatâs my good girl. Taking every last drop.â
Youâre a mess beneath himâlegs spread, skin flushed, cum already leaking from your stretched holeâbut heâs still kissing your cheek, still stroking your hair like youâre a precious thing he just unwrapped.
And even as he pulls out, slow and careful, letting the mess between your thighs spill freely, he smirks down at you and whispers, âYouâre not done, are you? Because I havenât even started rolling the dice yet.â
â BLADE !
Thereâs a momentâsilent, stillâwhere Blade just looks at you, eyes narrowed, chest rising slow and deep. Heâs already hard, cock flushed and twitching with restraint, but he doesnât lunge at you like an animal. No. Thatâs not his way. Blade's discipline makes him more dangerous.
You're lying back, bare and breathless, skin flushed under his intense gaze. He kneels over you, cock in hand, dragging the leaking tip slowly up your chest until it rests right between your breasts.
âYouâll hold them,â he orders, voice low and cold like tempered steel. âLet me feel them wrap around me.â
You obey instantly, fingers trembling as you press your tits together. The second they close around him, Blade thrusts forwardâslow at first, testing, watching the way your softness molds around his cock. His lips twitch upward, barely a smile, just a sign that he approves.
âSo soft,â he mutters, moving again. His length glides easily through the valley of your chest, wet from precum and heat. âThis is how a body should serveâwarm, trembling, obedient.â
He keeps your head still with a sharp tug of your hair, making you look up at him while he fucks your tits in steady, calculated strokes. The head of his cock nudges your lips with each thrust, and when you open your mouth instinctively, he groansâlow and guttural.
âOpen wider.â
You do, and his cock pushes just past your lips on the next roll of his hips. Just the tip, just enough to taste him. He grunts in satisfaction, slowing down only to drag the head of his cock across your tongue before pulling away entirely.
âThatâs enough. I need more from you now.â
He releases your hair and slides down your body, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them so wide your hips ache. His body presses against yours, and his cock lines up to your dripping hole, already fluttering and slick from the teasing. You feel the weight of him at your entrance, the girth, the heatâand your whole body tenses in anticipation.
Blade doesnât warn you. He pushes in with a brutal snap of his hips, burying himself to the hilt in one motion. Your back arches off the sheets as you cry out, the stretch too much, too fastâand he just leans over you, exhaling through gritted teeth.
âPerfect,â he growls, voice rough and almost breathless. âYou take me like you were made for it.â
He starts to moveâdeep, unforgiving thrusts that make your entire body jolt beneath him. His pace is sharp and relentless, his grip bruising as he pulls your hips up to meet every thrust. Youâre already dripping around him, and the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room, loud and wet.
Your moans get louderâmessierâespecially when his mouth finds your breast, biting your nipple until you yelp. He soothes it with his tongue, only to tug it again between his teeth. You canât think. You can barely breathe.
âKeep crying,â he snarls against your chest. âI want to hear everything.â
He shifts your legs higher over his shoulders and fucks down into you with cruel precision. Your body shakes with every thrust, heat building faster than you can control it.
âYou want my cum?â he asks, cock grinding deep against your cervix. âWant me to ruin this pussy from the inside out?â
âYesâyes, pleaseââ
âThen take it.â
Blade grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. His other hand snakes into your hair again, tugging your head back so he can kiss youâclaim youâwhile his cock slams into you faster. Your cunt flutters, tightens, and you scream against his lips as your orgasm hits, hard and shattering. You clamp down around him, sucking him in, and thatâs what tears his restraint apart.
He groansâloud, rough, gutturalâand slams in deep, hips pressed tight to yours as he cums hard. His cock throbs inside you, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum directly into your womb. He holds you like that, unmoving, his body shaking from the release, letting every last drop spill into you.
You whimper, feeling it flood you, fill you, drip down your thighs even while heâs still inside.
Blade doesnât pull out immediately. He stays there, buried to the base, panting quietly against your neck, his long hair sticking to his face and chest.
âGood girl,â he finally murmurs. âNow keep it in.â
He pulls out slowly, watching with a hungry stare as his cum leaks from your ruined pussy. He runs two fingers through the mess and shoves it back inside you.
âWeâre not finished,â he adds, voice low and final. âIâll breed you again and again until your body knows nothing but me.â
Kade's note : yeah, this is genuinely just me yapping about their hands for 3k words. Idk what else to tell you.
FLINS's hands are abnormally long, as expected of a fae. the tip of typical human hands only reach the upper thigh or lower hip. His hands, however, easily start mid-thigh, his fingertips brushing the top of his knee when standing upright. His skin is sickly pale, hinting towards an off-white but when exhausted, he struggles more to maintain his human appearance ; the ends of his fingers and the tip of his pointed ears slowly grow into a faint nuance of indigo, reminiscent of his original form.
Against popular belief, Flins's hands are cold. They do not possess a single hint of warmth his lantern form could suggest. When linking your hands together, they feel like walking through thick mist, but no water droplets taint your skin.
His touch is always fleeting, like the winter's breeze on a sunny day, reminding you it's cold presence before its return. At first, you simply thought the playful fae wished to tease you, but you soon came to realize it was an insecurity engraved deep into the metal caging his soul.
Flins is scared of his nature, and he is scared of hurting you with it. That's why his hold never lasts long. A permanent contradiction between his desire to keep you close to him until you inevitably vanish and he is left to wander once more in that immortal path he follows, and his wish to push you away to protect you from himself.
Warm would be underselling the feeling of holding DURIN's hands. They feel like cupping Teyvat's artificial sun in one's hands. Nonetheless, holding them doesn't hurt, it feels like fulfilling a thousand childish dreams.
Although comfortable, they aren't truly soft. His fingers are leaning towards the chubby side you'd often see on a child, a contradiction to his adult face and height. More often than not, he bears a few injuries on them, be it scratches, cuts, burn marks, and if those aren't prominent against his pinkish skin, it is the band-aids that cover them. Cute little things, decorated with a thousand animals such as dolphins and butterflies. Those injuries obviously come from his eagerness to learn more about the world he's been reborn into. To touch, to explore, to feel, to understand. Even he sometimes ends up with burn marks from going 'fishing' with Klee.
When the sun dips and he finally comes home after a whole day of running around Mondstadt, you never hesitate to sit with him on the couch, gently tapping the antiseptic on his cuts and patching up his hands. Never forgetting to tease him about the dirt beneath his nails before ordering him to take yet another bath.
WANDERER, whose hands are a pale pinkish color. They almost seem white until they flicker slightly and catch a hint of light, artificial or not, and gleam in an unnatural manner. They aren't quite long but not short, either. A reasonable size, although they are quite thin in width. His joints are quite visible as well, the thin artificial ball of his articulation coming into contact with the phalanges making a low sound, like shallow wood entering contact with another when he moves. One you can only hear when he runs his hands through your hair on an early morning or during those few deafeningly silent seconds when he comes to join you in bed.
They are cool to the touch, and although well polished, your fingers sometimes pause on an indent or two on his fingertips or open palm. Depending on how deep those are, you can catch a flicker of the translucent fluid that powers him up. In normal circumstances, it is hard to discern. However, when using his anemo vision, the fluid flows quicker and glows a lovely shade of cerulean.
All in all, when holding you, Wanderer's hands are firm but never harsh. As if you were a fragile china doll he fears letting go would break.
WRIOTHESELY's hands burn like the warmth that runs through one's hands after prolonged time in snow. His skin is that pale ivory shade hinting slightly towards a sand-like color, although you only know so from seeing more of his body beneath his usual attire. His hands alone do not suffice to discern the exact color of his skin. They are marred with too many scars of past battles and dark gray bandages. In fact, many cuts of his vary in shade : while some remain slightly lighter than the rest of him, long past the final stage of healing, others never fully do and stay a dark crimson or a variation of pink, making it impossible to tell which patch of him is truly the skin color he'd been born with.
They are of a normal size, although leaning towards width rather than length. His knuckles are a slightly darker shade than his ivory skin. Some of them in a slightly different position from yours, for they probably hadn't healed the way they were meant to.
Dark body hair grows on the back of his palm and the outer side of his forearm. It isn't too much, simply enough to notice it.
Ultimately, the inside of his palm contrasts nicely from the outside; it's soft and smooth but you rarely get the chance to simply hold them since he'd much rather placing them on your hips or around your shoulders. However, if you do manage to stop those teasing gestures and grab a hold of his hands, placing gentle kisses along the length of his marks, that man will melt on the spot.
LA SIGNORA's hands are elegant and graceful. A rich, healthy beige shade without a single blemish upon them. They are lukewarm and faintly smell of sakura bloom flowers due to the hand cream she had shipped to Shneznaya from Inazuma.
She has them manicured once a month at her favorite salon, often choosing a color that goes along her fatui uniform, such as deep crimson with a simple, timeless black or white lace design. They are soft to the touch and relatively small. When you both lay down on your shared bed after an exhausting day, she finds the action of running her nails on the back of your forearm or threading through your hair quite relaxing.
More often than not, she'll use the newly acquired nail size to gently nudge the skin of your stomach and revel in the way you jump and squeak at the action regardless of how many times she's done it.
LOHEN's hands are built for combat first, everything else comes second. His palms are broad, fingers strong. The kind that easily close around a weapon or an opponent's wrist. The skin is rough and layered with various callouses, especially on the tip of his fingers and the heel of his palms. They origin most likely from repeated impact rather than just weapon use. His knuckles are constantly bruised, and if not, they are in some form of healing stage from said bruises. Those appear in the form of faint yellows and purples, overlapping themselves as if the lighter ones didn't have enough time to disappear properly.
Sometimes, you happen to run across bite marks or crescent-shaped indents on his hands. Hadn't you known him better, you would've thought they were from constantly fighting around. However, they are, in fact, self-inflicted. Worst of all, he doesn't even bother hiding them, nor his other injuries, if anything, he often presses into them absentmindedly, like testing the pain.
Lohen likes sensation in whatever form it may appear. His hands always seek it ; whether it's tapping against a surface, squeezing something or someone, dragging his nails across skin just to watch it turn red under the sharp pressure and, of course, dragging his thumb against your pulse point, pressing just enough to feel it jump beneath his touch.
Despite all of that, there's a quiet calculated precision to how he uses them, he knows exactly how much force to apply, where to press to hurt, and, surprisingly, how to avoid hurting you when he chooses not to. Thus, when tending to your injuries, his hands become uncharacteristically steady and careful, his movements slower than usual. He doesn't comment on it, but his touch lingers a few seconds longer than necessary, like he's reassuring himself that you're still intact.
A subtle contradiction arises in his mannerisms, his hands can bruise, restrain, break yet when resting on you they feel anchoring rather than threatening, like a soft, cold breeze one may feel under the shade on a hot summer day. He understands pain intimately, so, with you, his hands are always hovering between inflicting and protecting, deliberately choosing the latter, most of the time.
ILLUGA's hands are solid and steady in a way that feels like they were made to hold weight âbe it a weapon, responsibility, or you. They are slightly larger than average, with broad palms and thick fingers that don't quite match any of the elegance he might otherwise carry. The skin is rough, not from neglect, the callouses that linger it sit mostly along the base of his fingers and palms, earned through repetition rather than recklessness (coughâ Lohen).
His warmth is consistent, not overwhelming, just enough to be grounding. His grip is firm and reliable, never crushing, never hesitating either, like he always knows exactly how much strength to use. There are scars but fewer than expected, sure, there are a few of those old, pinkish gashes that travel up his arms to his neck but mot much more. Some thin lines from cuts across his knuckles and perhaps one or two deeper ones along the side of his hands. They are all cleanly healed, though, suggesting proper discipline when treating them.
When he takes your hand, there's no teasing or fleeting touch ; he holds it properly, fingers interlocked securely. Additionally, he has a habit of resting his hand on you mindlessly, be it on your shoulder when standing beside you or the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd. It's not possessive, nor intentional, simply instinctual.
He rarely fidgets, but when he does, it comes in the form of rolling his wrist slowly or flexing his fingers like he's remembering the weight of his polearm.
His hands are not expressive in the way other's are, but they are honest. Everything he does not say tends to show in how he holds you, steady, present, and unwilling to let go unless you ask.
SUNDAY's nails are always short, although it is not because he cuts them, but because he has the nasty habit of biting them until he reaches the skin beneath. Additionally, the skin of his cuticles often peels. Thus, it is not uncommon to see reddened skin or dried blood where he must've ripped it off.
His hands are as soft as his pretty white feathers, smooth to the touch and comfortable to hold. They are lithe, his joints slightly more prominent when holding onto something with some amount of effort.
There is a certain grace in the way they move, like a bird dancing to attract a mate. They hypnotize you in the way they gently hold the thin foot of his wine glass, fingers gently circling the rim or how they move when maneuvering those golden, thorned ropes he uses on field. A measured action that hides both softness and strength.
All in all, you rarely get a proper chance to admire the pale, smooth skin of his hands because he'd much rather wear those dark, navy, gloves, much like he enjoys wearing that overly complicated outfit that is both unbelievably frustrating and highly appreciated in its asymmetric glory.
DAN HENG is a Vidyahara, by definition, he is cold-blooded, and thus, his skin is also quite cold ; thus, holding his hands is a must in your relationship.
His hands vary slightly depending on the form he's currently in ; in his typical, human disguise, they look underwhelming in their simplicity. Pale small hands, sometimes slightly clammy, short nails and visible joints. Nothing unusual save for the occasional paper cut from sorting through archives. In his Vidyahara form, however, his hands become slightly more interesting to look at.
His pale hands gain faint patches of scales along their length. Most often on the side of his fingers or on the back of his palm. They are a faint translucent color similar to that of his skin, although they gain a slight shade of cerulean. The tips of his fingers feel slightly colder than the rest of his hand, almost like touching marble, and his nails become sharper, akin to claws. Nevertheless, he always treats you with utmost care, controlling every flick of his wrist to avoid accidentally hurting you.
Speaking of scales, it is a must to speak about shedding seasons. While in his human form, the effects are minimal : it appears as fine, translucent flakes along his wrists, fingers or knuckles, similar to dry skin save for the ever-present shimmer the scales keep. In his dragon form, however, the shedding is more visible, thin slivers of old ones slowly begin to appear on the small patches of scales, occasionally peeling back.
When the shedding period approaches, the scales along his hands become slightly duller and rougher, losing their usual smooth sheen. Additionally, he grows more sensitive to touch for the new scales beneath are still delicate. He tends to hide his hands when it happens, a quiet embarrassment he rarely speaks about. However, if you help brush the loose scales away, he becomes noticeably still, unused to someone treating the process as something natural instead of strange. The newly revealed scales beneath are smoother, darker, and colder, glimmering faintly like polished jade under light.
Sometimes a thin scale catches on fabric or bedding, leaving behind a tiny iridescent fragment youâll later find on your sleeve. During heavier shedding cycles, he prefers holding your sleeve instead of your hand, worried the rough edges might scratch you âthough you often take his hand anyway.
The lack of care ANAXA holds for himself is most evident in his hands. They aren't dirty per se, but they carry a quiet sort of neglect one shows to an object deemed unimportant. His skin is pale to the point of appearing almost translucent, stretched thin over protruding joints, and darkened veins that trace along the back of his hands like fragile, branching features. His fingers are long and precise, built for delicate work rather than strength, often stained with ink or chemical residue. His nails are uneven, sometimes chipped, not out of carelessness, rather out of disinterest. When holding some sort of tools, his hands are perfectly steady, the only time they donât betray exhaustion.
Now, his hands are starkly different from one another. The "normal" hand, as one would call it, is cooler than average, not unnaturally so, simply cold like his body is constantly put under pressure âwhich, it is. Sometimes, you can catch slight tremors when it stays idle, their intensity varying based on how much he's eaten or slept. The callouses on this hand are minimal, limited to where pens or instruments rest, mostly on the last joint of his ring finger. This is the hand he tends to use when interacting with you, brushing against your sleeve rather than your skin, adjusting something near you over touching you directly.
His altered hand possesses skin that is etched with bold, unnatural red markings, dancing between being too precise to be accidental and too invasive to be natural. The gem embedded within the back of his palm feels warm, wrongly so, like something alive where it shouldn't be. When you touch it, the temperature is inconsistent, warm at the core, and cold at the edges. Additionally, there is a faint pulse beneath the surface, not quite matching that of a human's. His fingers on this hand move with slight delay or over correction, sometimes too swift while others not enough. Once in a while, the markings might dimly glow or produce little, subtle heat. He rarely uses this hand casually, for he wishes to alter as little as possible with the markings.
He treats his own body like an ongoing experiment, and his hands are no exception. To you, however, his hands hold quiet symbolism. One closer to reason, control and undeniable humanity, while the other represents his defiance, curiosity, and self-inflicted transcendence. Together, they make his touch feel like a constant imbalance ; one careful, the other dangerous, yet both undeniably his.
Ultimately, he doesn't initiate touch often, still, he doesn't pull away when you do. When you take his normal hand, he allows it, although his fingers remain slightly tense at first. If you take his altered one, he stills completely, watching you closely as if awaiting some kind of disgust or rejection. When he finds none, his grip give a faint squeeze, the warmth of the gem seeming to stabilize for a few instants before going back into it's temperature frenzy. Afterwards, he is much more likely to stand closer to you, letting his hand brush yours, lingering slightly longer than before with feelings that feel blasphemous to name.
AGLAEAS's hands are warm, like slipping into a bath after a long day of labor. Speaking of baths, it is in the bathhouse that you most see her, often indulging in shared intimacy among gentle waves.
Due to the prophecy, Aglaea has long lost her vision. Relying strongly on her golden threads to keep track of the world around her. With you, however, she perhaps indulges herself a tad bit more. Choosing to run her hands through the arch of your brows, the slope of your nose, the line of your jaw, the steady bumps of your spinal cord. Memorizing it all. And those gentle touches leave warmth behind them, when she ceases, you feel her touch still.
Additionally, with her impaired vision, she is unable to properly paint her nails as she used to before. Thus, she relies on you to cradle her ivory, rosy hands in yours as you gently coat her nails in that familiar shade of gold.
When she does decide to leave the bathhouse and take a stroll around Okhema, she takes great pleasure in hearing you yap on about what you've done that day or what you're seeing currently with her at your side, hand in hand.
@ k4dewashere ⊠all rights reserved â do not feed my work to AI
.đ„ Ę Ë thinking of interspecies reviewers x hsr âËâč á°
aka monster! hsr boys x gn! reader smut blurbs, ooc?! ps, pls lmk if i accidentally used some specific genitalia xx
amazonian mydei: your personal trainer at the gym cum succushop run by athletic amazonians. a very popular succuboy, with his strict but warm exercise and diet programmes all personalised for each customer. and also for his undeniably attractive physique, with tattoos that stretch and emphasise his muscles whenever he moves. he rewards you after every session with massages, including ones where his hands dip between the curves of your asscheeks to touch your sex with the excuse that you need to relax your lower muscles too. so much for relaxation, since you'll find yourself back to exercising as you bounce on his cock in the private rooms.
angel sunday: he yearns, he pleases, he gets tied up. an angel who wanted to save all those engaged in the vice of intercourse, yet ended up becoming corrupted himself. a rare and prized beauty, so his demand is high and only the richest customers can become his patrons. his wings are very sensitive, and he cheeps melodiously like a birdmaid when theyâre touched. heâs into sensory depravation, so blindfold him, tie him to the bed and have your way with him. trace your fingers along his smooth angelic flesh and bruise it with the red rope, leave your mark on this lowly fallen angel. take him back to heaven when you sink on top of him, edging him while heâs hopeless to do anything but cry at the tightness of your warmth.
dragon dan heng: double dick danger. more vanilla than the others, his real defining features are his two dicks. apart from that he seems cold during first impressions due to his strict professionalism, but his skill is no joke and his aftercare is warm for a cold-blooded serpentine species. heâs a safe choice for beginners and virgins, starting out with just one dick depending on your comfort, but the way he praises you when youâre taking both his dicks makes you quickly become a repeat patron. moreover, itâs cute when he smiles so demurely at you when he sees that youâve visited him again. during his ruts, he only receives long-time customers since heâs more animalistic then, even breaking the bed on certain occasion, much to the exasperation of the receptionist.
ghost moze: he may turn invisible at will and you can't touch him, but he can touch you. the succushop is modelled like a gothic haunted house, and the succuboys are ghosts, spectres and other undead. it's exciting, not knowing when you'll be pounced on by invisible hands as you walk through the dim candlelit hallways, pulled into a private room adorned with golden ornaments and onto silken sheets to be penetrated on ghostly dick. he loves to make you watch your gaping hole squeeze seemingly around nothing in the mirror. youâll be all covered in ectoplasm by the time heâs done with you.
golem boothill: an old golem who was used as a gun-slinging mercenary, now repurposed to become a sex toy! the main appeal about golems is creating your own unique sexual partner for the day, so used golems are usually second class succuboys. boothill, however, managed to overcome the stigma by the sheer charisma of his design and personality. heâs an old-school gentleman, who holds the door open and fucks you into the mattress like heâs just returned from a gruelling mission, desperate for relief. he groans into your ear about how youâre taking his cum like a good spouse as he folds you into a mating press. very hot, also, he has a vibrating dick.
human aventurine: a gambler who you can't win against, and has his way with you every time you lose. sex with him is as much as an addiction as gambling. ever since your first humiliating defeat, where he made you crawl to him on all fours, call him master, suck him off, then finally fucked you, youâve been coming back in hopes of beating him, only to get beat by his meat (not that you mind that part). the way he finally pounds into you makes you see stars and almost forget his grating personality. his smug smirk is basically tattooed onto the back of your eyelids. oh dear, you still canât find out how heâs cheating, can you? what games shall he play with his dear toy todayâŠ
salamander phainon: a certified good boy who lives to please. since salamanders burn almost everything they touch, save for fellow fire-resistant species and materials, heâs only managed to find employment at this salamander barbecue succujoint, as the grill of course. itâs hard to keep your hands off him when the oils drip tantalisingly down his pecs and abs, and he sucks the sausages enthusiastically with a full intent of cooking them perfectly. his heat also makes your mind fog, making you lose your inhibitions. if you can take his flames though, you'll be pleasured by our oiled up salamander and his warm dick, nesting heavy and snug inside you. heâs also a great choice for afab customers on their periods!
witch anaxa: a portal specialist and researcher. when you first enter the shop, youâll be directed to a workshop for creating a pocket pussy modelled after your very own using his patented state-of-the-art technology, which you can then take home after the session. do note that itâll cost extra to have more holes made. you can try sorts of positions and stimulations with his portals. for example, he can both fuck you on his dick and his frustratingly good tongue as he holds your own custom pocket pussy up to his lips. you can even watch the erotic way your inner walls squeeze against his penetration. expect multiple penetration with him, as he uses several of his own magical dildos and toys on your holes. his own chest is also a portal and erogenous zone so have your way with him too even while he pleasures you by playing with the celestial hole on his chest. he moans oh so cutely when you do, of course!
special mention to birdmaid robin who has the most angelic voice. her songs are heavenly, and so are the little chirps she involuntary tweet out when you overstimulate her!
