Handcuffs or Shivaji for Vain and Jhuni? i have a feeling jhuni would like ropeplay
Shibari for Sajhuin. They’d like to tie someone beautifully and be tied themself.
Vain would pick handcuffs bc he Doesn’t like being restricted and they are much easier to get out of. He would also pick handcuffs for his partner bc they are quick to put on.
My muse has to pick one or the other. They have to pick one. Not neither, not both.
Submissive or Dominant? Whips or Chains? Handcuffs or Shibari? Pillow Princess or Power Bottom? Voyeur or
Exhibitionist? Blindfolds or Spreader Bars? Butt Plugs or
Vibrators? Edging or Multiple Rounds? Knots or Ovipositor? Spanking or Scratching? Ball Gag or Muzzle? Strap on or Double
Sided Dildo? On on one or Group Sex? Vanilla or Kinky? Lengthy Cocks or Girthy Cocks? Small Boobs or Large Boobs? Ass
or Chests? Thighs or Arms? Hot Wax or Knifeplay? Loud or Quiet? Biting or Sucking? Collars or Piercings? Costumes or Lingerie Monogamy or Polyamory? Laughing and silliness during sex or
Intensity and power struggle during sex? Fucking a Virgin or
Fucking someone with experience? Face to face or from behind? Phone sex or Sexting? Cumming
inside or Cumming outside Being filled or Bukkake Dirty Talk or Degradation? Role play or Porn on in the background? Public Edging or Filming
in the Bedroom? Condom or Bareback? Lube or Raw? Video Call Masturbation or Sexy Selfies? Blood Play or Breath Play? Face fucking or Anal sex? Leather or PVC? Morning Sex or Evening Sex? Clothes on or
Clothes off?
‘against you there is no defence.’ with finn/ezra/nb!hunter please =D
Nothing could possibly soothe the desperate longing of wanting to see them, to feel them, to be by their side, and each time the sun sets Finn finds his way into warm arms.
Whenever they’re together a slow, dull ache settles in the pit of his stomach at the realization that they will not be with him forever.
So he savors it, savors them, because human life is short and cruel, and if he can love them even for the shortest time then he’ll do it right.
Finn is cold but they are warm, and theendless touching sates him, the heat, the stuttered groans, the careful arch of their spines as they move as one.
Damn everything else, because this is all he wants to do for the rest of his endless life.
A torrent of desire echoes in his mind, two voices sighing his name, lips wet and eager against his skin. Toes that curl and fingers that fist crumpled sheets, and Finn commits it all to memory.
He counts the freckles that sweep across Ezra’s nose, the dusting that trails over his shoulders and the tops of strong arms, and russet skin glows softly in the flickering candlelight. He’ll never get over the green of his eyes, the way they rival the shine of even the brightest emerald, and sometimes Finn could swear he holds the galaxy in that gaze when he looks at him.
The Hunter is just as beautiful, an abundance of silvering scars a map upon soft skin that Finn traces with tongue and teeth, and nobody could ever quench his thirst quite like they can. Their blood is an elixir, the sweetest nectar he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting as fangs find supple flesh.
His lovers drive him to madness, an unbidden, aching desire that nothing else could ever rival. To hold, to kiss, to fuck, to love, a raw and desperate need that sings inside him and tells him to never let them go.
So he holds them tighter, loves them harder, and he asks the universe to capture this moment and every one that comes after so that he may never forget them.
Dark ombré
hair spills over their pillow, stray strands curling at their forehead and sleep-flushed cheeks. A long leg has escaped the tangle of the sheets, their nightshirt rising high and revealing smooth, pale skin, and August is beautiful.
They look peaceful, their eyelids flickering, and the Hunter wonders what they might be dreaming about. There’s a stark difference between the August that wanders the waking world and this one, and they seem weightless, peaceful, a distinct lack of an accusatory curled lip or eyes that roll.
The Hunter sighs, content to watch them, the steady and slow rise and fall of their chest, and they can’t resist reaching out to brush one of those snarled wisps of hair from their face.
A nose twitch, then a smile, and with great effort August opens their eyes.
“You caught me,” the Hunter smirks, watching as August rolls and raises their arms high above their head with a contented sigh as their bones click back into their rightful place.
“I caught you. Were you enjoying the show?”
They tilt their chin, and the Hunter knows that cue, leaning in to press their mouths together in a kiss that tastes like last nights wine, sweet, tart, delicious. August pulls his bottom lip between their teeth, drawing the limb that had escaped the confines of the bedsheet up around his waist.
Without thinking, the Hunter’s fingers are finding the buttons of their shirt, undoing them one by one until soft cotton falls open, a delicious and tempting warmth radiating off them.
He smiles against August’s lips as their hips hitch against his own, thinking about how these lazy mornings always turn into something urgent, explorative.
They can’t help it. This thing between them is too new, and they still have too many things about each other to discover, freckles and curves to memorize.
Sylv and August tangled in bed? Maybe,,, post-sex cuddles? Idk that fic had me feeling fluffy things but its sylv’s birthday so,,,,
This is obviously very late for Sylvian’s birthday, but never mind 😂
Breathless, August rolled onto their side, hands already
reaching for him across the damp sheets, trembling fingers brushing over sweat-slicked
skin. The need to touch him was constant, an ache that had no relief other than
the feeling of his skin under their palm, of his fingers in their hair, his body
curled around theirs.
Sylvian smiled as August snuggled into the crook of his neck,
his chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal, but bloody Hunter
stamina meant he wasn’t as tired as August. It just wasn’t fair. His arm curled
around the back of their shoulders, hugging them close, idly caressing their hair.
‘Are you all right?’ He murmured, and August snorted.
‘That is a stupid question.’
His laugh brought a foolish grin to their face, warmth
blooming in their cheeks. It was in quiet moments like these that they felt the
safest, the most secure. When it was just the two of them, limbs tangled
together, each enjoying the feeling of the other in their arms. It had gotten
to a point where they could hardly remember a life without this.
August needed him,
needed him like they needed air, wanting him to always remain close, to fall
into his arms when they were tired, to hear him say “I am yours” and mean it, really mean it. A promise that was
true and sincere, because Sylvian didn’t tell lies.
‘What are you thinking about?’ He asked, the tip of his nose
running along their jaw, his breath sifting through their hair at their temple,
making them shiver.
‘You.’
‘Oh?’ His lips brushed against the pulse dancing in their
throat. ‘Good things, I hope.’
‘Hm, maybe.’
He huffed a laugh, a firm hand cupping their face, tilting
their chin up, and August sighed contentedly against his mouth. Their lips eagerly
parted for him, but he kept the kiss slow, tongue meeting theirs in little touches,
his fingers winding up into long, ombre locks, creating ripples in the dark
waves.
August’s little noise of protest when he pulled away made
him grin, his mouth maddeningly close but not on theirs. There was a steady
heat beginning to pool in their abdomen, and they traced the hard muscles of
his chest and stomach, trailing lower, lower,
brushing over the coarse hair between his legs…
‘I was thinking that it’s still technically your birthday,’
they purred, a hand pandering at the crux of his thighs, enjoying the way his
eyes lidded, pleased by the feeling of him growing heavy in their palm. ‘Would
you like me to take the boots off now, or keep them on?’
‘That,’ he growled, rolling on top of them,
mouth pressing damp kisses to their neck as he reached down to hook their legs
over his hips. ‘Is a stupid question.’
The Demon is like heaven and hell all wrapped up in an impossibly attractive package. The sweetest of smiles, but those wide eyes have a certain glimmer to them, a flicker of mischief that sends sparks skittering across the Hunter’s skin.
Strong thighs straddle his waist, and Omen moves above him, an eager bounce that knocks the breath from his lungs every time he rises and falls.
His tail curls around the Hunter’s wrist, reels him in, and he wants to be touched.
The Hunter drags a splayed palm from collarbone to navel, feeling the impossible heat of him as his fingers glide over muscle that shifts under pale skin.
Omen is unassuming when in clothes, lithe, but when stripped bare he’s powerful to the point where it almost scares the Hunter, makes him want to know more about where he’s from, who he really is.
He feels the air in the room thicken, his breath coming in harsh pants as Omen rides him harder, faster, his tail moving to brush over his ribs, it’s pointed tip sharper than he remembers.
Omen pushes blackened fingertips into his own long, silky hair, the sight of him a privilege, something rare and beautiful.
Hot, hot, hot, and the Hunter watches as heat hums beneath Omen’s skin, a copper glow, otherworldly and, again, terrifying.
Omen’s palms meet the Hunter’s chest with a loud slap as he arches his back, falling forward until their foreheads are pressed tightly together.
There’s a smile on his lips, a sinful smirk that tells the Hunter all he needs to know, but he says it anyway. “I’m close. So close.”
He nods, the maddening feel of Omen this close, this tight, slick, and hot around him, and he fears he may really be melting. “With me,” he rasps, sweat beading at his brow, collecting in the dip of his clavicles, at the backs of his thighs.
Omen makes a quiet noise, a pleased hum, and the Hunter grabs the firm curve of his backside and keeps him steady as he pounds out his final thrusts, sparks bursting behind his eyelids as he comes with a ragged cry.
Omen eagerly swallows the noise with a kiss, a kiss that burns as warmth spills over his stomach between them.
Ezra arches his back, his head pressed firmly against his downy pillow, and he looks up at the sight before him and wonders if he’s dreaming.
How did I get here? Mother would be so proud…
Finn throws him a look and laughs at the errant thought, Damen too occupied with littering the Vampire’s bare shoulders with kisses to notice the moment that passes between them.
The mattress groans with the weight of the two imposing, big bodies above him, and a smirk hooks the corner of Finn’s mouth as Ezra wraps his legs around his waist, Finn leaning forward, gravitating towards him with little thought.
“Comfortable?”
Ezra bites his bottom lip, fingers twisting in dark sheets as Finn reaches between his spread thighs, hissing through clenched teeth as Damen does the same to him, a hand dragging down his spine, over the curve of his ass. They work in tandem, each of them being pulled apart by the other until Ezra is panting for it, desperate.
“Finnegan,” Ezra rasps, a familiar warning, and Finn curls his fingers, Ezra’s mouth opening in a silent cry, fingers tightening their grip on the sheets as cool digits work him open.
He’s growing impatient, his two lovers a feast for the senses, and all he can think about is seeing the look on Finn’s face as the Hunter fills him up, a look he rarely gets to see.
Finn tenses as the Hunter lines himself up, pushing inside slow, slowly, and Damen grabs his chin, holding him steady. “Look at him,” he whispers, bright gold burning into Ezra’s green as the Hunter sheathes himself to the hilt.
Finn has possibly never looked more blissed-out and filled up, quietly chanting Damen’s name in his defeat. Regaining his composure, Finn turns his attentions to Ezra, reaching to tangle iron fingers in dark brown curls as he lines himself up. The anticipation has Ezra impatiently rocking forward, and as Finn pushes into the eager clench of his body, pleasure soaks him right down to his bones, hot and unrelenting.
Damen pushes forward when Finn pulls back, the synchronicity of it blinding, and they find their rhythm so easily, three perfect puzzle pieces built to tear each other apart. Greedy hands roam, and Ezra almost loses track of who they belong to, the only indicator being that Finn runs more than a few degrees colder than the scorching heat of the Hunter.
Also this was just supposed to be fluff and uhhhhhh oops its NSFW now and over 1000 words lol
Alo groaned as he closed the front door behind him, kicking off his shoes by the door as he hung up his coat. He was tired. He was sure he’d never been this tired before, in fact, and the act of making his way to August’s bedroom was almost too much. He knocked, not wanting to barge in, but there was no answer. Opening the door just a crack, he was halfway to announcing himself when he heard water running in the bathroom.
Alo sighed and shrugged his suspenders off his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt a little more as he sat at the foot of the bed and flopped backward, throwing an arm over his eyes. There was a muffled noise coming from the bathroom and Alo turned his head to try to figure out what it was. As soon as he could hear it clearly, he felt his heart swell in his chest at the sound.
August was singing. It was the most beautiful sound Alo had ever heard. He didn’t think he could fall more in love with them, yet here he was, completely awestruck at their perfection. He wasn’t even sure they were a good singer, but it didn’t matter to him. To Alo, August’s voice was that of an angel. Not even the most powerful siren could match them. Alo rolled onto his side and buried his face in his hands, feeling his cheeks flush.
Before he knew it, the bathroom door opened and August entered the room, tying their robe around their waist. “When did you get here? Are you all right?”
Alo peeked out from behind his hands and pointed at them. “You!”
August quirked a brow but seemed unperturbed. “Me? What about me?”
Alo rolled back onto his back and threw his arms out to the sides. “You’ve slain me!” he replied dramatically.
Hey Kris I had a dream where the LI’s were real people or actors or some such and Omen ate me out like nothing else so uh, would you do a girl a favor with a drabble ๐๐๐๐๐ป
OH.
NSFW
______________
Omen’s heat is unmatched, his touch a thrill as he runs his hands over her body. Breast and rib, waist and thigh, and with a firm tug she’s dragged to the edge of the bed.
She twists her fingers in the sheets, finding an anchor as he kneels before her, between parted thighs, hooking her legs over his shoulders with a smile.
His tail sways elegantly behind him as he concentrates on the task in hand, a trail of reverent kisses pressed to her inner thigh.
He’s finding his way higher, higher, and she writhes beneath him, heels digging into his back as the anticipation threatens to drive her mad. “Omen, please…”
Wide chestnut eyes find her, his gaze brushing over her naked form like a caress. She watches his tongue flicker out to wet his lips, a promise of what’s to come, his cheeks kissed a charming pink.
He holds her steady, his breath warm against the wet that settles between her thighs as he leans in, and he’s unfairly close, close enough to touch and taste.
His tongue is a revelation when he finally puts her out of her misery, a helpless whimper rolling off her tongue as he licks her, pausing and pressing as he reaches that tight bundle of nerves.
She stifles the ragged noises that pour from her throat against her knuckles, and Omen finds a perfect rhythm, pressing long fingers inside, curling them.
He smiles against her when she breathes his name, groans when she winds her fingers into his silky hair, worn loose over his shoulders in times like this.
Just how she likes it.
His name melts into a plea, a gasping, desperate thing as he presses his face closer, tongue moving deeper in tandem with the fingers that beckon inside her, playing her like a song.
Her hips buck against his mouth, burn in the depths of her stomach. The threat of release barrelling closer, full speed under the unrelenting swipe of his tongue.
Her fingers tighten in her hair, and Omen shamelessly ruts against the mattress as she comes.
The sound of her, the rush of wetness that hits his tongue, all of it too much, too fast.
There’s a brief moment of disappointment as he pulls away, her toes still curled as he crawls closer, wiping the traces of her from his chin.
She gathers herself, still panting as she reaches for the buttons of his tented trousers, his tail curling around her wrist, an encouraging squeeze.
They laugh against one another’s lips, breathless from a kiss where all she can taste is herself upon his tongue.