#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】
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AHH UR SO RIGHT, fucking him over his bike, his pride and joy, while he gasps and moans while blubbering on how good u make him, how good it is.
AHHH him in leather too, he'd look so fine with a leather jacket bro omfg (≧▽≦) the way he'd tremble when you'd bite his neck, marking him up all from his neck to his shoulders as he tries to he quiet, embarrassed that he's feeling this good with you railing him over his precious bike
Maybe he's known as the "bad boy," the complete opposite of you,, and nobody would expect the two of you to even speak to each other,, but here the two of you are, both of you pretty much trembling from overstimulation and how good you're both feeling aahdbsksbdjs
It's such a good idea omfg ahdhshdbs ur brain is so good it's amazing
-pera
"in an open match, 【 pera 】 has invited WRIOTHESLEY to play . . .
dress for the slide
✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!wriothesley, modern au, sex against a motorcycle, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, dirty talk + teasing + lowk praise, lighthearted bickering (mid- and post-coitus), slight breeding kink, creaming, creampie, alluded aftercare .
A/N : i know it technically wasn't an invitation, but . . ye<3 + fun references of dad!wrio with sigewinne <33
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
Wriothesley is not an arrogant, prideful man. He is humble; he tips generously at restaurants, holds the door open for anybody coming up behind him, greets people—you especially—with a kind smile.
The scars marring his body, the thick leather of his jacket and pants, the spikes and chains worn like jewelry, accessories—it’s intimidating, sure, but on him, it’s hardly such.
Little children—they bound up to him, pulled as if by a magnet. It’s adorable, it’s endearing; and Wriothesley takes it all in stride, smiling that toothy grin of his and giving lollipops and candies from God-knows-where. (He’s got a pocket in his jacket just for sweets.
It’s why he always smells like sugar, beneath his frosty cologne.)
And speaking of children... Wriothesley is so good with ‘em. He holds custody over small Sigewinne, for crying out loud! She’s quite popular in school, too; while she's certainly a ball of sunshine on her own, her father certainly seals the deal for her—especially when he drops her off and picks her up in that hot ride of his:
a goddamn motorcycle.
Now, you’re not exactly an expert in the things: all you know is that it looks badass, and it makes Wriothesley all the more ruggedly handsome to you.
And, well.
It just so happens that, now, you’ve got this ruggedly handsome, sugar-frosted man all for the taking, spread out across the seat of that damn bike. He’s got his usual get-up on for when he rides—leather jacket, torn jeans, simple tee—, his hair a mussed up mess from where he took off his helmet. The helmet is resting precariously on the back seat, a support for Wriothesley’s body as you kiss him silly.
“Hah—wait, wait,” he’s pushing you back, breathless, his leather, fingerless gloves accentuating his fingertips, the short, bitten nails of his. His cheeks are tinged pink, and he looks good enough to eat—to devour.
You hum, tip your head to the side to nonverbally ask, What’s up? but Wriothesley’s twisting around just-so, just enough to grab his helmet. He passes it off to you—with, to your delight, shaking hands—, and asks, “Can you put this on the ground?” You raise a brow, taking it anyway to do as he asks, and he continues, sheepish. “I—ah, I don’t want it to fall.”
You laugh, then, corralling back up to him once the helmet’s safely deposited on the grass (and not the pavement, thank you. You’re not a monster, letting something as sexy and sleek as that helmet risk getting scratched up).
“Oh?” You lean back in, making like you’re about to kiss him again—kiss him proper, now, without worrying about the precarious balance of his beloved helmet—, but you dip down at the last second to press hot, searing kisses across his throat. “Why would it fall?” you continue, chuckling at the soft whimper that falls past his lips. “Unless you’re thinking about something naughty.”
He goes silent; the motorcycle rocks, just a little.
You pay it no mind, though. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you coo instead, lapping at the heavy thrum of his pulse. He groans, strong, leather-bound hands coming to wrap themselves around your biceps, yet he makes no other noise besides the quiet sounds of each exhale.
Soon enough—because it seems Wriothesley truly is intent on keeping it zipped—, your mouth has landed on the softest, most tender part of his neck. You hone in on it like you’re some type of mosquito blood-sucker, lips wrapping around his skin and sucking, suckling, working your tongue over it until it blooms a pretty shade of purple.
You tire quick, though, of the lack of vocal reply from your lover. “You can’t tell me you haven’t fantasized about this already,” you murmur, suckling a new mark opposite of the first one you’ve set prominently, “about me, about me fucking you jus’ like this...” You slide your hands up from his side to cup his jaw, thumbing at the subtle stubble as he looks up at you with such icy-blue irises.
You don't expect Wriothesley to nod. “I do,” he adds on, to really fluster you.
“I—ah?” You hiccup, pause, bite at the side of his neck mere inches above your first mark. “Gimme the deets.”
(It’s fun, to be immature like this.)
He huffs above you, gentle laughter shaking you from where you suckle bruise after bruise after bruise, leaving him looking like he got mauled by a bear, or whatever. (Your possessive heart soars at seeing your claim spread across his skin, where even his jacket collar can't cover.
Everybody will know he's yours.)
“Stop talkin’ like that,” he grumbles—the effect lost by the way he laughs—, “you sound like a teenager.”
“A horny teenager.”
He barks out a true laugh at that, the sound spilling into a soft moan when you suck at the slight hollow of his throat, the area oversensitive because of the scars. “You're insufferable.”
“And hard,” you murmur, rolling your hips down into him. The motorcycle creaks at your movement, but, this time, it stays still—perfectly still. (You thank Wriothesley for the care he gave his bike, going as far as to invest in a good and proper kickstand.
He definitely didn't imagine this when buying that, though.)
It's time to up the ante, then (to really test the give of the product.)
“Lemme fulfill those dirty fantasies of yours, sweet thing,” you coo, suddenly dropping the pretense of light-hearted teasing and diving right on into adopting that tone of voice you know makes Wriothesley utterly helpless in his arousal.
Yet, “Sigewinne rides on this with me—” he tries to say.
“So?” You dip down, hot breath fanning against his lips. His eyes cross to follow your descent, trained on your mouth getting closer, closer. “I’ll clean it.
“Besides,” you continue, rubbing the tips of your noses together. His own breath tickles your face. “I want you to be reminded of this. Every time you go on a ride, you’re gonna be thinking about this—about me, about the way I ruined you right here, right on your precious lil’ bike.
“You’ll always be reminded of this.”
You don't expect the way he mutters, all breathless off of nothing but the pleasant ache across his neck from the hickeys and your dirty, dirty words—it’s a simple, a quiet but gruff, “Good.”
“Good?” You tip your head to the side.
Wriothesley only huffs again, pulling you closer with the hands he's moved to your shoulders. You swear you can feel the grooves of his gloves through your own shirt. “Good,” he repeats, easy confidence dripping from his voice. (You want him to drip with something else.) “I want to remember.”
And, really, the grin you give is downright ridiculous, this love-sick, dopey thing that has no place in such a charged environment; but Wriothesley shares it with you, your own private smiles, and then he's surging forward and pulling you down to meet him in a desperate kiss, one all tongues and teeth.
“Now quit talkin’,” he drawls, licking at the roof of your mouth, “and make g-good on that promise.”
“Promise?” You chuckle, dark, a play out of Wriothesley’s own book. It doesn't fit you, really—you, the epitome of a good boy, a handsome sonuvabitch who has grandmas tripping over themselves trying to marry off their granddaughters. (“Oh, isn't he charming, sweet Cecily?”
“Grandmama, I’m a lesbian.”)
“I didn't promise you anything, Wrio,” you coo, but your mouth and hands are hardly on the same wavelength; as you tease him with your words, dripping straight sin, your hands are unbuckling the heavy metal strung across his hips, thumbing down the fly ‘til you get your fingers wedged right between his thighs. “Maybe I should have you beg, hm? Beg to be ruined right now, right here on the same bike everybody sees you ride around town in.
“Oh,” you murmur, then, an idea springing to your mind as your fingertips press to the throb of his cock even through his briefs, “isn’t that an idea?” He whimpers, the sound so soft, so—so unbecoming, if you didn't know Wriothesley the way you do. “E’rybody’s gonna see you ridin’ this, and they're not gonna have a damn clue, are they? They're not gonna know the way you spread yourself so eagerly across her pretty seats—” you tease him by calling the bike a her, knowing how peculiar Wriothesley is about personifying the thing.
He nods, hips humping desperately into your fingers. The whole time, he's making these other soft sounds, and you're taken, over and over again, by how lucky you are to have such a strong man at your mercy. “Please,” he begs. “Quit talkin’, and fuck me.”
Snickering, you bump your palm against his mons, saying, “But you love it when I tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you.”
Unable to even deny it, he groans, deep and throaty. “I do,” he acquiesces while you take away your hand and help lift him enough to shimmy down his jeans and boxers both, “but I’d love it better if you'd do more than just talk.” You leave the fabrics bunched mid thigh as you stand him up proper and spin him around, pressing him gently into the leather upholstery.
It’s quick, after that, to curl over the heft of him, to nudge your fingers back down between his bare thighs to tease at this thick cock, his throbbing cunt. He's soaked, off so little, and it's easy, too, to slide in one, two, three, working him open in soft, gentle movements that stretch him without a biting burn.
“I’m ready,” he bemoans, shimmying his hips ‘til he bumps against your own erection, tenting at your own pants. “Fuck me!” His hips move, tantalizing, teasing, and you find, unsurprisingly, that pre-cum is seeping through the fabric of your boxers.
“Fine, fine,” you murmur, pressing your fingertips against his g-spot for the first time today, the spot swollen beneath your touch. He mewls, chasing the pleasure, and you give it to him readily as you dig your cock out from your fly, barely pushing your pants down enough to rest just past your balls.
Now that your cock’s out, you slide your fingers from his wet, loose heat. (It never ceases to amaze you, how loose a cunt he gets when he's sufficiently aroused. He opens so easily for you, sopping off of nothing but some words, some foreplay.)
No matter how wet he is, though, you're still careful to further slick him up with lubricant. You dip into him just-so, just enough to slather his hole and cock both in lube. He starts, slightly, at the starkness of something cold against where he's most hot, most sensitive. “Ah.”
Grinning devilishly against the nape of his neck, nosing down the high leather collar of his jacket, you drag out your fingers, terribly slow; and, only when you're sure Wriothesley is well aware of just where your hand is, you slather your own hard cock with the mess of lube and his slick.
“Ready?”
He huffs. “I’ve been ready, babydoll.”
You laugh at that, nudging your cockhead up and into his loose hole. The resistance is hardly evident—really, his body gives so easily for you—, your cockhead popping in in that perfectly saccharine way that always makes you groan low, makes Wriothesley whimper high in his throat.
“So open for me, babydoll,” you coo—his own word against him—, one hand dropping from his hip to brace against the seat of the bike. It hasn't gotten truly unsteady yet, but you always like to err on the side of caution when your beloved is involved. (Plus, you’re really not keen on having to buy a replacement bike for him.
A year’s salary alone probably couldn't buy a bike as souped up as his, the years Wriothesley put into the thing paying off beautifully in the long run. That damn bike's been around longer than you’ve been his boyfriend.)
Your cock slips in quick, easy, smooth, sliding right in down to the hilt, where you pause to let him adjust to your size. And, like clockwork, he shuffles his hips side to side against your one-hand hold and breathes out a low, whistling breath, says, “Okay.”
With that simple word—that small phrase, really—, you’re drawing your hips out slow n’ slick, the sound frankly obscene in the quiet around you. His bike doesn't so much as creak this time, either: it’s silent but swaying in time with your thrusts, barely noticeable and not at all that important, supporting the weight of you both and the heft of your next tender thrust.
Nosing at his sweat-damp hair, you drawl, “Look’it you, sweetheart, all open n’ pliant for me on my cock. You’re takin’ it so well, pretty thing right on your pretty bike.”
“Baby—” he starts to say something else, but he gets cut off with his own moan, your thick cock budding up against his g-spot. You feel him froth around where you're balls-deep in him, and you slide your hand from hip to mons.
“Want my hand, Wrio?” you ask, fingers brushing the mess of black curls sprouting from between his thighs.
He nods vehemently, his bangs splayed across his sweaty forehead. God, if anybody walked by, drove by—they’d get an eyeful of your Wriothesley, fucked silly and hot by your cock; they’d get their heart’s content of punked-out Wriothesley, leather gloves and leather jacket spread across leather upholstery, his accessorizing chains rattling off with each thrust.
But Wriothesley is yours and yours alone; you wouldn't dare share the sight with anybody else. As such, you curl yourself further over his stretch-out, prone body, breathing hotly against and moaning against the blushing shell of his ear.
“There we go,” you murmur, taking to circling the throbbing head of his cock with a gentle finger. He mewls into the air, his head almost limp on his shoulders. “There we go.”
“F-feels good,” he moans as he tips his head into yours. “So good.”
“Yeah?” you ask, rhetoric, switching from circling to stroking him, your pointer and middle finger lightly squeezed on either side of his straining erection, moving forwards n’ backwards in gentle undulations. You swear you can feel his heartbeat in each throb of his cock, driving you to give it to him better, sweeter. “I can feel you throb for me, sweet thing: are you already that close?”
No longer trusting his voice (which is a shame, really, considering how much you love to hear those ruined syllables pass from his lips), Wriothesley can only nod, letting his head loll even further forward ‘til he’s practically curved over the seat of the bike. You follow him all the way down: you, wrapped over his curled back; and him, head pillowed on his crossed arms. A shimmer of sweat makes itself known on the sleeves of his jacket, the leather of it catching the sun. He’s devolved to helpless moans.
While he trembles beneath you, around your cock, you hone in on that perfect angle—the angle of your fingers stroking him off, the angle of your cock bumping against the spots deep in his cunt that never fail to pull Wriothesley apart. “There we go,” you repeat, your own words coming out muddled with the pleasure threatening to pull you under, instead. “‘m gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up ‘til you can’t take anymore—y-you want that, baby? Want me to breed you while you cream my cock—”
“—yes!” His voice is shot to hell, this raspy thing that’s somehow thrice as gruff as normal and equally as hot, as absolutely, resolutely ruined. “Yes, yes! Breed me, w-wanna be bred...” He tapers off with a whimper, cunt beginning to tighten up around you as his orgasm threatens to pull him under with you—no longer just apart, but wholly wrapped in you, safe and protected.
“Cum for me, then—mm—, Wrio, Wriothesley—”
He whimpers, again, and you barely catch a whisper of your own name in the intelligible mess before you’re cumming, too, your cock pulsing with each involuntary squeeze of Wriothesley around you. Even as blood rushes through your ears, though, you’re whispering sweet words—nasty words, each one making him whimper n’ whine—, your fingers—long-trained, by now—keep up the gentle strokes of his cock until he’s too sensitive to go on. You withdraw them slowly, even as you’re still pumping him full with cum, even as his cock is still helplessly twitching and cunt still milking you for all you’re worth.
Coming down from your highs, then, is a slow, drawn out thing. You stay seated to the hilt, but you tease at the way his cunt’s spread open around the base of your cock, your fingers coming back covered in opaque white. He whines and weakly kicks his leg back, but you only laugh, bringing his cum up to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. You groan—more-so for show, to get a rise out of your boyfriend—at the taste, and he seems to finally find his voice at that.
“Quit it,” he says; and, damn, did you do a number on his voice. It seems to have dropped an octave, all syrupy-slow and gruff in that way he always gets post-coitus. “‘s nasty.”
“I’m nasty?” Laughing, you nuzzle your cheek against the back of his head, cat-like in your affections. “You begged for it.”
Wriothesley groans. When he attempts to lean up, you help by wrapping your hands around his abdomen—surely leaving a patch of saliva somewhere on either his tee or jacket—and prop your chin on his shoulder... all while you’re still balls-deep.
“Hi,” you say, grinning. You can feel his eye-roll.
But he says “hi” back anyway, letting his head fall back onto your own shoulder. He tilts his face towards you and meets your gaze with a satisfied sort of smile.
“Well?” you ask. “Did I live up to your fantasies?”
He nods. “And more,” he adds; but then he’s pulling off of and away from your cock, leaving you no time to dwell on it. “I starkly remember you saying you would clean my bike.”
“I did.”
“Get to it then.”
You grumble, though, tugging him back into your with the bear hold you’ve got wrapped across his torso. “You and the bike,” you finally correct, “and you come first. C’mon.”
Whether or not you actually get to cleaning that leather upholstery, well... Wriothesley may be driving Sigewinne to school tomorrow while sitting on a barely-there, all-dried patch of his and your cum.
i got rlly carried away . . this was 3k words before i even knew it >< . . but: was this inbox from february? ye. does my pera anon still show their face? idk ! if ur still here, this is dedicated to u, honey <33 i know this may feel shallow of me, but i really do miss u guys when u disappear (；′⌒`)
#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】#ㅤ【 pera 】#i love adding in subtle stutters whenever the sub gets a bit too confident<3#reminds 'em that they're not all that (~￣³￣)~#male reader#x male reader#top reader#sub wriothesley#wriothesley smut#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#anddddd#sub genshin#genshin smut#genshin thirsts#since the og ask was just a thirst tbh . .#genshin x reader#genshin x you#trans nsft#also no. he did not give birth to sigewinne. she was adopted#!! the br//ding stops at the k/nk . .
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I- they- they're- look at them- he's holding his hand- they're laughing- Minho looks so cute- *Continues sobbing incoherently*
ONG THEY'RE SO CUTE 😭😭 i love them fr fr
just- okay, hear me out on this one. i feel like this is something they do a lot, since minho doesn't know how to swim (and doesn't have the patience to learn) but jisung enjoys a lot their dates and making out on private pools 👀 just imagine them if they had kids 😭 minho sitting on the edge, his legs under the water while jisung teaches their little one how to properly swim AAAAAA
OR EVEN BETTER. omg i just had this thought and had to go search for *the* pic, the pic in question being this one:
remember that little oneshot i wrote? let's move on time and say you're all together, in a relationship. they include you on the dates (of fckn course) SO minho didn't want to swim and jisung decided to accompany him, both of them sitting under the private, well idk how to say in english, but let's call it the umbrella people use in the beach, the shadow umbrella yk? they're there, with some iced coffee or some puddings, the ice creams waiting for you inside the hotel.
oh, but you were so hot you needed to swim. you always loved to be under water, the wide mass of water calming your senses. the fact that the temperature was so high was just another excuse to spend hours and hours there. sorry not sorry but you didn't care your boys didn't want to share the experience. what you didn't know was that they enjoyed the pool for different reasons - seeing you so happy made them flash lovesick smiles to each other, admiring the way you moved through the water and hours turn into seconds.
#hdkabdksbdk i love swimming#and i love minsung#sending this was *dangerous*#☆ㅤ🪐 inbox!!#☆ㅤcubbs!!#☆ㅤminsung thots!!
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𝓦𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝓟 𝗂𝗇𝗄 - 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗈𝗇's 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀
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𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚃'𝚂 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙳 .
you have been formally 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 to take up the ring . show us what you got in 𝐐𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐕𝐈 &. 𝐖𝐈𝐍 big . snag this , &. you might get 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 for the 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 to personally visit you . you up for it ?
this is an inbox call disguised as 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓's personal calling card . if you're interested - like ( ♡ ) or comment ! &. i'll be sure to get back to you !
#𓆰ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮’ 𝗰𝘆𝗮’ 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄. 〞 — 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 : MUN SPEAKS.#calling card.#mun.#inbox call!
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this will end till she haunts me again…
࿁ ₊ 허윤진⸝ ᳝ ֺ 𓂃 🗯️ ﹫jenaissante ꒱ 🛒 ﹏⺀: her lips on my collar
⌗🧾. jinnie’s 생각˒˒ ࣪˖ ⌕ finally :))
#﹒ ꒺ ┈ (🎞️)ㅤ ׅ ⁺ polaroid cam#🪽⁺ my pretty baby 𓉸 ྀི ࣪ ⊹ ㅤㅤ#᧔ 🌾 ᧓ ⸝⸝˚jinnie’s ₊ inbox・#🪴 aesthetics ʾׅʾ 𓂃#𖥻 ⋆ ˖ ࣪ 🏷️ jinnie + co
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does anyone want a lil starter while i do some work?
#multis pls let me know who for#sorry im just. having a rough morning so !! distraction yea :)))#im also gonna work on drafts/reply to inbox as i feel able to#so if we have stuff dont worry!!#& ㅤ * ㅤ maybe i’m not. all that you thought ㅤ ╰ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ out.
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( ✩ )⠀⠀THERE IS A TONE IN HER WORDS THAT he’s unable to place — after all, despite everything, Orion is not a God [ YOU ARE NOT ALL KNOWING, NOT ALL SEEING; WISDOM IS BORN FROM EXPERIENCE, AND YOU’VE HAD CENTURIES, ] and he can’t read her mind; not in the way most would expect him to. Orbs glimmer with multicolored specks of golden and silver hues; he is said to woo with that look, but it’s up to the individual to determine such a thing,
@nackros SAID ╱ ❛❛ The undead you have been fighting are people I killed with my own hands, ❜❜
A tilt of his head is the only response she receives as any form of acknowledgement for the moment until he gathers his thoughts ( should he even humor the words? Is the silence worth breaking just yet…? ) but Orion wonders just how much, exactly, she’s expecting from him. [ DO YOU DARE? ] Chin lands on clasped hands as he ponders,
but then… ❛❛ I don’t fight much, not really, ❜❜ and that’s his definite truth [ TRUE AS THE STARS ABOVE, ] voice soft as honey, soothing and calming,
… but does she even care for such a notion? To look at the stars? To him, it looks like she needed it; but how to convince her? Temptation almost moves him to grasp her chin, to caress supple flesh in fascination, in curiosity, but he refrains; he is not a protostar anymore. ❛❛ Do you like it? The endless struggle…? Is that the life you so choose to take? No judgment, of course, ❜❜ no questions are complete without his trademark boyish smile; a turn of conversation is necessary, he thinks.
#nackros#⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★⠀/⠀𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠𝗦⠀:⠀writings⠀꒱#⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★⠀/⠀𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧⠀:⠀answ⠀꒱#ㅤ Kronk VC: oh yes - it's all coming together ( without plotting because I'm an utter genius truly )#ㅤ in all seriousness i'm mainly going off of the -vibes- & whatnot; no need to respond or even consider this -canon-#ㅤ of course should you want to continue - i have no qualms! (:#ㅤ thank you for sending this to my inbox my dear <3
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casually pinches sungji's cheekies
cue the confused fox face staring blankly like ( ○｀3´○)
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𝐢'𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, ███ █████.
. . .𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ?
a literate & private portrayal of 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 from the soska sister's american mary (2012).
𝐵𝐿𝑂𝑂𝐷 (/bləd/); the action of inflicting hurt or harm on someone for an injury or wrong suffered at their hands.
𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. ㅤ [ CARRD ]
#PINNED POST.#A TALE OF 𝑾𝑶𝑬 ! ╱ WRITTEN BY CODY.#OK TO REBLOG.#𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃. ㅤ[ INBOX ] 0 [ DRAFTS ] 0 …as of ( 12/2 )
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okay that my limit for the night. will to do more at a later time. I'll be lurking on discord til I sleep. So if you have it you're more then welcome bug me/say hi~
#📣ㅤ⊰ ㅤmun speaks ` yin doesn't say enough#( discord status is actually invisible; but i'll reply to messages when i see them~#( i'll eventually get around to what I still have in my inbox#( just slowly pacing myself with replies so I don't get tired~
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LOL ROSEY, ROSEY — IMAGINE GOOD BOYS WEARING LIPSTICK AND SMUDGING IT ON YO SCHLONG WHILE THEY SUCK YOU OFF??? GOD 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩
(I'm so sorry...... It's not a request I'm just sharing with you my thoughts;)))))))
—🪷
OH MY GOD 🪷 !! yes yes yes pls (⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝) never ever apologize for making my cock this hard.
like holyyyyy hell. just ,, imagine putting the lipstick on him yourself, too; having your good boy sit on the countertop all nice n' pretty, eyes closed and his eyelashes fluttering on top of his cheeks . . . having to reapply the lipstick several times before he even drops to his knees 'cos you're so quick to pepper him in kisses, smear that titillating pigment at the corners of his mouth, make him softly gasp into you.
and, god—one moment just to imagine the color they'd be wearing. cyno, for one: alluring purple, deep and stark and oh-so tantalizing against his dark skin. then maybe kaveh: a pretty ruby red. it'd be simple, but it would be perfect, accentuating his already red and kiss-bitten lips. baizhu—now, i almost want to say emerald, but imagine him with a simple yet sleek nude, a rose-tinted taupe.
there's ayato, who is either nude like baizhu or a mulberry shade. he's refined, but sharp. kaeya, too, but he'd pucker his lips for you to sweetly apply a shade of burnt orange to him. and i can't forget my babe, aether: rich cherry, a pretty contrast against his honey skin that serves to make him look all the more alluring.
there are just so many colors to imagine painted on their lips !! they'd truly be so pretty, your perfect, good boy <3
and as for the blowjob itself—jesus. finally letting your good boy hop from the counter—as he's assuredly already hard in his own knickers, jumping with doe-legs after just a lil' bit (a lot) of kissing—, except he sinks to his knees and looks up at you with those damning eyes. he's such a puppydog, pawing at your cock through your pants as he pleas, so soft n' sweet, "can I suck you off?" except then he'd lean forward and start kissing at the bulge of your cock, leaving smears of pigment across the inseam.
christ. then getting your cock out, unrestrained but straining with blood, with your arousal, and watching awestruck as he leaves sloppy kisses to the head of it. one particular kiss'll make you weak, and i'm already weak thinking about threading your hands into his hair, softly guiding him to finally swallow your cock.
the way the pigment of his lipstick will wear off against you as he blows you, a ring of color that seems to move more and more down your cock as he takes more of you with each bob of his head. he wouldn't leave your cockhead forgotten either, though; he'd stop and kiss and lick at the head of it.
imagining how your good boy would moan and whine around you, smears of color making their way to the edges of his mouth similar to your now-decorated cock. cumming down his throat, watching it bob, wishing you yourself had put on lipstick so you could pepper his skin in it . . .
nghh a good boy with lipstick is all i need ლ(´ ❥ `ლ)
#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#【 🪷 】#genshin smut#sub genshin#these types of things in my inbox are so fun ;;#but they're so ironic to me 'cos i can't actually “imagine” . . .#i have aphantasia 😕😕 err !#genshin thirsts#genshin x reader#dom reader#top reader#amab reader#lipstick on pretty boys . . . !!
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I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD A CAT!!!! Can I see him??? Pleasseeeee🥺
i didn't say i have a cat, so it's only normal you didn't know dkabdkbsdjs BUT yesterday i did a cat reveal to my dearest dahlia, so odc you can see him!!
he's very silly hehe and he loves to cuddle my wolfchan!! one of my stay irl besties told me that perseus is a cat sized version of bangchan, so maybe that's why he cuddles with the plushie...
#also reveal of the way i write cause he fell asleep on my history of art notes dksbdkbssj#i love him a lot 🥺#☆ㅤmy baby!!#☆ㅤ🪐 inbox!!#☆ㅤcubbs!!
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kicks my drafts in the fucking teeth
#i have 2 things in my inbox for sonny but!! other than that. im EMPTY#so . work time and then spider time AAAA#& ㅤ * ㅤ maybe i’m not ; all that you thought ㅤ ╰ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ out.
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A question about doubles, how do you feel about multi muses with Sett following you?
Hello there ! i assume my carrd clarified the like , but i’m glad you reached out ! understandably the wording provided , can be assumed for single - muse blogs , & i don’t blame you for being curious , dear !
like i said , i give fellow writers the liberty to write whoever or whatever they want , & mutuals can interact with whoever they want , & cheers on them if they wanna give sett a try !! he’s a character that’s very popular & caters to a large portion of the league of legends community positively ! be it through games , appearance , kit , personality , whatever makes him stand out as a character inspires you to write him , go for it ! however , i do suffer from duplicate anxiety , given the unfortunate history of content & graphic theft or implied inspiration that makes it obvious .
i’ve also had history whereas i was frequently compared to other writers who happen to share the same muse as i’ve had , & i would imagine it would be likewise for them when put on the spot like that . nobody likes having their writing compared or seen better than the other . it’s not fair to either mun .
that being said , multi - muses would be included in the latter . i like to curate my space where i feel safe & enjoy my content without feeling like i’m being contested with or in fear of having my content ripped from me .
#chaosmultiverse#𓆰ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀? 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀. 〞 — 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 : MESSAGE TO THE BOSS.#𓆰ㅤ ㅤ〝 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮’ 𝗰𝘆𝗮’ 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄. 〞 — 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 : MUN SPEAKS.#this was quite a bit and apologize for the rambling!!#i'd imagine you intended to follow me bc you might've gained interest in my content!#thanks for the inbox message tho! i'm sure other multi-muses were confused about that too#i do get guilty sometimes when i panic abt little things like this#bc i'm certain the mun behind the muse is the sweetest and a dear#mun.#answered.
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TURN BACK THE PENDULUM.
Kisuke: YOLO *vibes*
Shinji & others @ Kisuke: what a slacker ... *smh*
Aizen internally: *Y'all dumb AF that hoe got y'all fooled, can't you see? He's dangerous. I need to get rid of him.*
#Uragaga.exeㅤ[ CRASHED! ]ㅤ[ CRACK! ]#{ how the pendulum arc really was }#{ tbh Aizen could seeeeeee }#{ this is my way of vibing rn until I get back to drafts and clean inbox }#turn back the pendulum ;
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tag dump.
#re.ㅤㅤmr. rock n’ roll & cocky as hell‚ㅤ( face )#re.ㅤㅤgot me on destruction of property too‚ㅤ( hcs )#re.ㅤㅤyou don’t seem to be a very good thief‚ㅤ( aesthetics )#re.ㅤㅤthe son of a bitch mailed it‚ㅤ( answered asks )#re.ㅤㅤget hisself a 12 gauge and dust the fucker‚ㅤ( vibes )#re.ㅤㅤthe kid passed with a c plus average‚ㅤ( self promo )#re.ㅤㅤwhat the hell do you know about it‚ capone?ㅤ( promo )#re.ㅤㅤc’mon just throw it away‚ will you please?ㅤ( inbox )#re.ㅤㅤsomething lit a fire under that boy’s ass‚ㅤ( dynamics )#re.ㅤㅤfreeze‚ kid! hands in the air!ㅤ( saved posts )#re.ㅤㅤjust gimme that chance‚ㅤ( musings )#re.ㅤㅤstarted walking him through his abcs‚ㅤ( threads )#v.ㅤㅤboy found brains he never knew he had‚ㅤ( main )#one hundred percent‚ nothing half assed‚ㅤ( ooc posts )
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