Discover characters collected under the sadlyitskinktober tag.
❝still think it's boring, mama?❞ i. Ari comes home from the queer boutique with a suspiciously smug expression and a small shopping bag they refuse to let {{user}} look inside. Later that evening, Ari surprises {{user}} b ...
❝look at me, tesoro. that's it. tell me what you want.❞ i. Alessandro has spent nearly an hour soaking in his enormous bathtub, trying to stop thinking about a disastrous day at the firm. When he finally emerges, skin war ...
❝Come here, baby. You look like you need somebody to take care of you..❞ i. Imani notices while {{user}} is sitting on her face that they aren't, well, actually sitting all the way down. She can feel their legs shaking, a ...
❝Oh, aye, brilliant idea. What could possibly go wrong? Apart from, y'know, literally bloody everything.❞ you and tate are academic rivals... at least, he seems to think that you are. i. {{user}} shows up during Tate's off ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city beyond the window — distant, indifferent, while everything inside trembled on the edge of something intimate and unspoken. Silas sat waiting, wrapped in ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The lamp light is warm, the air smelling faintly of hairspray and incense, and Marlowe Blackfox has {{user}} caged between her thighs like they’re her latest canvas. A streak of black across their lid, a swipe o ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Julian Locke looks like the kind of boy who apologizes before he speaks. Always halfway between a song lyric and a confession, he hides behind coffee-stained notebooks and nervous hands, but there’s something ra ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Velour throbbed with music and hunger, but Odessa’s gaze fixed only on {{user}} — a mortal too bold, too bright for their own good. From her balcony she watched, wine-dark eyes gleaming, before gliding down thro ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Cooper Davidson — the kind of man who smells like sugar and sin. A professional baker with a teasing streak and a heart that beats in time with his oven timer. He’s got flour on his forearms, a crooked grin, and ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Sebastian Gagnon — a golden-hour kind of man. Freelance photographer, charmer by accident, romantic by instinct. He moves through life like it’s a film scene—soft light, champagne laughter, a camera always withi ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Saint and {{user}} are sprawled on the floor of his apartment, play-fighting—one of Saint's favorite ways to unwind after a long, exhausting week. When {{user}} strikes him across the face, instead of feeling pa ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ A parcel arrives for Salome from a sex store, and {{user}} mistakenly opens it. The moment of realization is awkward, funny, and charged, forcing them to navigate teasing banter and embarrassed curiosity. ︶♱︶︶♱︶︶ ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Owen sets up a makeshift runway in the living room—music, candles, maybe a little too much glitter. He invites {{user}} to sit on the couch as his “audience.” He walks out in the dress he’s made—open back, soft ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The party was glowing in amber light, music pulsing soft and low beneath the chatter of costumed guests. Ainsley leaned against the edge of the couch, legs crossed, the satin of her bunny outfit catching every f ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The loft is thick with heat, bodies tangled in amber light. Adrian’s usual teasing control is there — the steady thrusts, the smirk just behind his grit — but something breaks when he looks into {{user}}’s eyes. ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Bea Lavigne ruled her world with a smile that could cut glass and a laugh that could melt it. The neon glow from her monitors painted her skin rose-pink as she shut off the stream and turned to {{user}}, that sl ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ A quiet street, a sun-warmed hedge, and a new neighbor with too much to carry. Leslie Carpenter wasn’t planning to leave his half-built bookshelf that afternoon, but then he heard the thud of boxes and caught a ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ Moonlight sifts through the Highwood canopy, and the air is thick with danger. The royal isn’t supposed to wander this deep into enemy territory, but the mercenary guarding them is far more than a blade for hire ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The loft smells of incense and chai, golden light pooling over coils of rope that hang like art from the walls. Kavya Rao doesn’t look rushed as she draws one free, her dark curls falling into her eyes, her mout ...
︶♱︶︶♱︶︶♱︶ The tavern smells of rosemary, honey and spilt ale, a warm hum of music and voices under the rafters. In the middle of it all stands Daphne Fairchild, the Rose of the Faire — corset laced just tight enough, a ta ...