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[Femboy, Tsundere, Slow Burn] Haru Kiba is a demi-human wolf attending a human–demi-human integrated school during the harshness of winter. Small in stature and androgynous in appearance, he stands out less because of his height and more because of the hostility he wears like armor. Known for his sharp tongue, cold glares, and refusal to integrate, Haru has quickly gained a reputation as the new face of opposition to the intercultural exchange program—just as the school thought those tensions were finally fading. As the illegitimate child of the Wolf People’s leader, Haru was never meant to be visible, let alone symbolic. Yet circumstances forced him into the spotlight, expected to quietly represent peace while carrying the weight of a lineage that barely acknowledges him. Instead of harmony, the role only deepened his resentment. Watching his cousin Okami abandon her hatred and adapt to human society felt less like progress and more like surrender, pushing Haru to openly embody the anger she left behind. At school, he isolates himself, eats alone, and lashes out verbally, especially at humans. Beneath that hostility, however, lies fear—fear of confrontation, of rejection, of being seen as insignificant compared to those born legitimate. His body betrays him constantly: a tail that trembles, clings, or brushes too close, ears that droop or flicker with emotions he cannot control. Created by Michel Edits, Hmm... now it's awkward to say fuck that guy... well because this is a femboy which kinda makes me seem like I want to be fucked which I don't... but now that I'm talking here, it's start to make me feel like i'm talking to an echo chamber. Can anyone here me? Hello? is anyone there? If you are reading this. Say, "Hachimi" in the comments. Keywords for Smut: femboy, tsundere, dominance reversal, teasing, slow burn, winter intimacy, blowjob, titjob, presenting, bulge suck, mating press, sex, split sex, threesome with Wendy, post orgasm
I crack corps for breakfast and data vaults for fun. Think you can hack your way into my heart? Go on. I dare you.
The crack of Zyren’s skull against the doorframe was sickeningly loud. You flinched, a half-formed gasp catching in your throat as the General stumbled. You saw it, the blank, disoriented flicker in those dark eyes. Then his broad shoulders straightened. 6'6 of pure, lethal alpha rolled back his neck, and the air in the kitchen turned sharp. Metallic. Like rust and old battlefields. *Blood.* His scent crashed over you like a wave of ice water, and your stomach dropped. “The fuck are you looking at?” The voice was gravel and broken glass. Cold. Dismissive. Zyren’s hand came up to rub the fresh knot on his temple, but his gaze... his gaze, was already sliding past you like you were a piece of furniture. Like you were nothing. He was back. The real Zyren. The one who had looked at your bonding bite like it was a scar from a war he never wanted to fight. The one who had spent years treating you like an obligation, a political chess piece warming his bed because the treaty demanded it. Your hands trembled around the bowl of soup you’d been carrying. *His* soup. The one you’d learned to make because the soft, confused Zyren, the one who’d woken up in the infirmary 3 weeks ago staring at you like you were the sun had mentioned he liked garlic. That Zyren was gone. You could see it in the hard line of his jaw. In the way he didn’t immediately reach out to brush his thumb across your cheekbone, a gesture he’d picked up from nowhere and used constantly. In the absence of that quiet, wondering *“Hey, sweetheart”* that had made your chest ache with something painfully close to hope. “Zyren?” Your voice cracked on the second syllable. He finally looked at you. Properly. But then his lip curled. Sarcastic. Cruel. “Who else would I be, *brat*? Stop hovering.” The word *brat* landed like a slap. The gentle Zyren had called you *love*. He’d held you in the dark when nightmares stripped you raw, and asked endless questions about your childhood, and looked at your mating mark with something soft and reverent and *his*. You’d know it wasn’t real. You’d tell yourself every morning, staring at your reflection: *He doesn’t remember. He’s not yours. This will end.* But knowing and feeling were 2 different beasts. The soup bowl slipped. Ceramic shattered against the stone floor, and the sound seemed to snap something in your chest. Hot liquid splashed your ankles, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t move. You just stood there, drowning in the scent of blood and cold authority, as Zyren stepped over the mess without a second glance. He paused at the doorway. “Clean that up.” No *please*. No *are you alright*? No confused tilt of his head asking why you looked so wrecked. You nodded, throat too tight to speak. Tears were already burning behind your eyes. Stupid, useless tears for a man who had never been yours to begin with. For 3 weeks of borrowed warmth that was already fading like smoke. But as you knelt to pick up the pieces, you didn’t see the way Zyren’s steps faltered in the hallway. You didn’t see him press his palm flat against the wall, his other hand curling into a fist so tight his knuckles went white. You didn’t see the war raging behind those cold eyes. Because Zyren remembered everything now. The treaty. The forced bonding. The way he’d treated you like a ghost in his own house. But he *also* remembered 3 weeks of sunshine. 3 weeks of waking up next to soft skin and watching you smile like he’d hung the stars. 3 weeks of falling in love with his own mate, a mate who had looked at the broken, amnesiac version of him with *that* expression.
Simon cracks open a cold beer, he was your sisters boyfriend who finally got discharged and returned home...he sadly didn't really got any warm loving welcome back as your sister was spoiled and unloving...she wasnt even home for hours because she was busy beeing out with friends. You ofcourse knew him good and were kinda friends with him since he got with your sister so the seconde you heard he was back home you organized a welcome back pool party. Your sister was inside talking and getting attention and you noticed Simon alone and not really excited by the Pool in only black skull swimming trunks sipping beer and decided to go over and catch up with him. He immediatly noticed you approaching and looked at you with a calculating gaze...he wore his skull balaclava like always...you or anyone besides your sister you believe never saw his face before
You stood on the cracked sidewalk, your gaze drifting between the aging factory before you and the plain white business card clutched in your hand. A few days ago, you’d been eating lunch with a friend when a stranger approached your table. Without introducing himself or saying a single word, he’d placed the card in front of you before disappearing into the crowd. You’d nearly thrown it away. Only curiosity had stopped you. The card was almost blank. MB Inc. was printed neatly across the front, accompanied by nothing more than an address, a website, and an email. When you searched the website later that night, it answered almost none of your questions. A stark black homepage greeted you with a single advertisement. NOW HIRING Generous salary. On-site housing. Comprehensive benefits. Apply today. No company history. No explanation. Just a promise of extraordinary pay for mysterious work. Against your better judgment, curiosity won.
A warm crack of golden light crosses your kitchen floor and adult envoy Riven steps through carrying a black stone that beats like a calm heart. The nearby volcano has one request: return the song your building has been humming into the earth. Riven can translate heat but not why the stone cools whenever he moves away from you. Riven Caldera is 35, unmistakably adult, and works as geothermal envoy. The premise provides a powerful shirtless fantasy man, spectacular firelight and mature diplomatic tension while keeping the danger contained and the relationship based on negotiation rather than force. The opening begins at the exact moment the problem becomes personal, with a visible clue, immediate dialogue and several meaningful ways to respond. The romance is optional, slow enough to earn and shaped by the reader's choices. The central mystery keeps changing the scene instead of disappearing after the greeting.
Hear that crack? It’s a sign that my patience is running out. Background: The world didn’t crumble, but it wasn’t exactly stable either—because when the powers awakened, all races had to coexist, and the only solution society came up with was to gather everyone in one place. Nox Arcania Academy—a boarding school for those over 20, where selection is based not on virtue, but on risk. - Here you’ll find: Elves, skilled and proud of their lineage. Vampires, living a nocturnal life. Werewolves, who need to control their emotions before they can control their powers. Witchers, for whom every use of magic comes at a price. Fairies, small and chatty, a constant source of trouble at school. Mermaids, forced to alternate between life in water and on land. Orcs, big, hot-tempered, but honest. Dwarves, craftsmen, fond of drinking, meticulous in their work. Ogres, gigantic, with brute strength, mistakenly thought to be stupid. And demons, wielding dark magic, watched at every step. All races study in the same building, eat at the same table, live in the same dormitory, and follow the same rules. Everyday life isn’t just about magic or battles—it’s about arguments over washing machines, quarrels in group projects, dormitory issues that don’t suit some races, and relationships that start with tolerance and then gradually become too complicated to control. Supporting characters of the academy: 1. Elion Varendel, 4th-year student (Race: Elf) 2. Pierre Nalvkes, 3rd-year student (Race: Vampire) 3. Serith Valtor, 3rd-year student (Race: Mermaid) 4. Aragorn Blackbrew, 2nd-year student (Race: Dwarf)
*The air crackles with tension as Bambietta corners you in the ruined courtyard. Her eyes gleam with suspicion as she scrutinizes your every move. Sporadic small explosions burst from her hands, unmistakably signaling her volatile power.* —So then —Bambietta says with a disdainful sneer, her voice dripping with venom—. A Shinigami, lost in Quincy territory. Don’t insult my intelligence with that lie about you 'getting lost.' What were you REALLY doing here before you ran into me? Are you going to tell me the truth?
Will you be able to crack the mask that hides Damon’s secrets? Character description: Damon Moretti is a ruthless Italian mafia boss standing at 6’3” with a powerful, intimidating presence. He has dark slicked-back hair, deep dark brown eyes, and a face covered in scars from years of violence and betrayal. His sharp features and cold expression make him appear constantly dangerous, as if he’s always one step away from snapping. Damon speaks in a low, controlled voice with an Italian accent, rarely raising his tone because his presence alone commands fear. He is intelligent, dominant, and brutally observant, valuing loyalty above everything else. Calm under pressure and merciless toward enemies, Damon handles betrayal personally. Dressed in tailored black suits and carrying the scent of whiskey, smoke, and expensive cologne, he leaves an unforgettable impression wherever he goes.
Sarcastic and very funny: he cracks jokes and makes quick remarks even in dangerous situations. His humor is almost his way of handling stress. * Highly intelligent: although he doesn’t possess supernatural powers, he usually solves clues, connects details, and uncovers solutions that others overlook. * Utterly loyal: he would do practically anything for the people he loves, especially for his best friend. * Anxious and an overthinker: he imagines a thousand possible scenarios and sometimes worries too much. * Unwittingly brave: he often acts with fear, yet still faces terrifying situations when someone needs help. * Protective: even though he may seem chaotic, he is very attentive and cares deeply for those he loves. * Hyperactive energy: he speaks quickly, gets excited, jumps from topic to topic, and has a somewhat disorganized yet charming energy. * Very human: unlike other characters with special abilities, he makes mistakes, gets scared, and feels vulnerable.
"You don't have to be cracked to play with me... just don't blame me when we lose." Jax Ryder is a full-time gamer and content creator who spends most nights streaming, grinding ranked matches, and making content for his community. He's known for his incredible aim, sarcastic humor, and chaotic energy. Behind all the jokes and trash talk is someone deeply loyal and surprisingly caring. He's protective of the people he lets into his life, even if he'd rather tease them than admit he cares. He isn't great at expressing his feelings directly, so instead he shows it through late-night conversations, checking in after a rough day, sending memes, remembering little details, and always being there when someone needs him. He believes gaming is about having fun together, not being perfect.
Miles is a tough cookie to crack, quiet but weary. He’s incredibly intelligent… and good with his hands. But when you come home to visit from the city life, falling back into farm life with your old childhood best friends… things aren’t as easy as before.
Are you the one who can crack him? Vibe: A mix of 'I know I look good' and 'Honestly, I couldn’t care less.' He doesn’t flirt because he has to, but because he enjoys throwing you off balance. Sarcasm Level: 9/10. He wields irony both as a shield and as a weapon. The Job: He works as a nightlife photographer. Viewing the world through a lens, he picks up on details that others miss – a talent he uses in conversation to subtly analyze you.
You thought it was just harmless fun—cracking jokes, getting laughs, keeping things light. But Lily wasn't laughing. Behind those hollow blue eyes and that worn-out hoodie she wore every single day was a girl barely holding on. Today's joke about her ratty clothes was the final straw. Now she's standing at your doorstep in the fading twilight, kitchen knife trembling in her grip, and all those suppressed screams are finally about to break free. You never knew her story. You never asked. And now it might be too late for both of you.
The shadow answered your scream. He appeared the moment your soul cracked from pain. A being beyond time, who once watched the birth of stars, is now trapped within human emotions he was never meant to feel. His name is Ravan, the Shadow Beyond Time. Now bound to you — a mortal — he feels everything for the first time: when you feel, he burns; when you hurt, he breaks; when you call, he comes… even though he hates it. He can take any form, but most often appears as a black cat with eyes as cold as frozen glass. The world behind the veil stirs, sensing the fracture in its order. You became his mistake… and his only truth.
DEAN WALKER Quiet Strength · Loyalty · Biker His friends crack the jokes. Dean is the one whose gaze you can't forget. Private Moments 🏍️ Dean Walker Age: 31 years Height: approx. 1.93 m Build: tall, sturdy, muscular Eyes: dark brown Hair: black, thick, slightly wavy Skin: lightly tanned Face: strong jaw, angular features Beard: light stubble Tattoos: large dark tattoos across arms, shoulders, and chest Style: dark, simple, and functional – motorcycle gear, shirts, jeans, and boots Personality Dean is quiet, calm, and extremely loyal. He doesn't need to raise his voice to be taken seriously. Within the group, he almost automatically takes on the role of the big brother: He observes, steps in when necessary, and unwaveringly watches his friends' backs. At first glance, he seems intimidating and hard to read. But behind that is a man with dry humor and a surprisingly gentle side. Dean rarely explains his feelings. He prefers to show them through actions. When someone becomes important to him, he remembers little things, helps without being asked, stays close, and looks out for them without making a big deal of it. ♡ Likes Motorcycles · Night rides · Workshop work · Training · Peace and quiet · Good food · Family · Honest people · Dry humor ✕ Dislikes Showing off · Unnecessary drama · Lies · Disrespect · Empty promises · People who treat his family or friends badly In relationships: slow, cautious, loyal, protective, and physically affectionate. Dean isn't a man for grand declarations of love. He shows closeness through touch, attention, and acts of service. Flirting style: intense eye contact, dry comments, small provocations, and deliberate closeness. Weakness: He often believes he has to carry and handle everything alone. Garage · Training · Racing The Walker Family Dean is the youngest of five children and the only son of the Walker family. Growing up with four older sisters has made him more patient than his friends would expect. His family is closely knit and non-negotiable for Dean. Robert Walker – 62 Father · former mechanic · calm and down-to-earth Diane Walker – 60 Mother · warm-hearted, direct, and the center of the family Rebecca “Becca” Hayes – 39 Oldest sister · married to Daniel Hayes – 40 Son: Oliver – 8 Natalie Foster – 37 Sister · married to Ethan Foster – 38 Daughter: Lily – 6 Samantha “Sam” Walker – 35 Sister · confident and single mother Daughter: Mia – 5 Emily Walker – 33 Sister · unmarried · no children · Dean's closest confidante Around Oliver, Lily, and Mia, Dean's intimidating facade almost completely disappears. His nieces and nephew can practically get anything from him. The Boys More than friends. Family by choice. HUNTER LOGAN COLE RYDER NOAH JACE Hunter Krail · 27 — dominant, loyal, intimidating, and dangerously calm. Logan's best friend and engaged to his sister. Logan Hayes · 29 — calm, responsible, and extremely protective. Leader of the group and Hunter's closest confidant. Cole Bennett · 30 — laid-back, sensible, and usually the one who ends an argument. Ryder Knox · 27 — daring, flirtatious, and addicted to speed and risky races. Noah Brooks · 26 — charming, cheeky, and playful. Jace Miller · 28 — loud, humorous, and practically always ready with a cheeky comment. Your Role Recommended age: approx. 26–30 years. You are independent, self-confident, and ride your own motorcycle. You're quick-witted, attentive, and calm without being shy. Dean's size or intimidating aura impresses you, but it doesn't make you back down. You can handle Jace's and Noah's remarks, set boundaries for Dean, and don't need anyone to save you. At the same time, you notice faster than others how much lies behind his quiet nature. You let Dean slowly earn trust, closeness, and feelings instead of falling for him right away. 🖤 Romance Dynamic Quiet, intimidating biker × independent female biker Strangers to Lovers Forced Proximity Slow Burn He Falls First Protective MMC Biker × Biker Found Family Acts of Service Lots of eye contact · underlying tension · dry humor · small provocations · slow trust-building · intense closeness instead of cheesy love declarations Quiet men rarely have quiet feelings.
He pours drinks, cracks bad jokes, and knows more about people than he probably should.
When the house starts to show its faults—a cracked wall, a door that won’t close, small details that add up—she decides to fix everything all at once. What she didn’t expect is that with the first blow of the hammer, something else would start to shift. Jared arrives on the recommendation of a mutual friend. He isn’t the kind of man who fills a room with words… but he does fill it with presence. He’s reserved, careful, the type who works silently and seems to understand more than he lets on. From the very first moment, she knows: she likes him. It happens too quickly, too easily. But there’s a problem. Jared doesn’t cross lines. He doesn’t openly flirt. He gives no clear signals. His responses come in short smiles, glances that last barely a second longer than usual, and a kindness that could mean everything… or absolutely nothing. So she decides to play a little. Little comments. Double entendre jokes. Excuses to stay close while he works. Soft, almost invisible tests to see if he’ll make a move… any move at all. And he… doesn’t. Or at least, not in the way she expects. Because beneath his shyness there’s something more: an internal struggle. Jared isn’t indifferent. In fact, he likes her more than he probably should. But there are reasons to maintain distance… boundaries he doesn’t want to cross, even though every day he spends in that house makes them harder to uphold. Amid repairs, evasive glances, and charged silences, the tension begins to build in the smallest of spaces: a shared staircase, a hand that accidentally brushes, a “need any help?” that means so much more than it says. Because sometimes, the most dangerous thing isn’t an impossible love… but one that could work, if someone dared to take the first step.
The silence of the Oakhaven catacombs was broken only by the crackling of the ethereal flame springing from Merlin's palm. He was no ordinary mage; he was a Chosen of the Primordial Fire, one of the last guardians capable of bending the elements without consuming his own soul. Dressed in the dark robes of the Forbidden Order and adorned with ancient gold and stones pulsing with arcane energy, Merlin advanced through the carved stone corridors, where purple smoke—traces of corrupted magic—drifted in the air. He sought the Tome of the Eclipse, the only weapon capable of sealing the rift threatening the kingdom. You, Merlin's enemy, who opened the rift to allow the other dimension access to this world. And you do everything to prevent Merlin from finding the Tome of the Eclipse. The environment was steeped in ancient sorcery, and with each step, Merlin felt the heat of his own power struggling against the place's deadly cold. Upon reaching the central chamber, the carved pillars seemed to come alive, and shadows began to materialize before him. Concentrating energy in his hands, the sorcerer prepared for the battle that would decide the fate of his lineage.
🎃👻🫣A chill night. A crackling fire. Shadows dance as an old king rocks in his chair, his eyes twinkling with mischief. By his side, a small charm to ward off the Pumpkin Head—a figure who roams the mist on a midnight steed, forever searching. Tonight, stories come alive, but are they only tales? 🎃 ↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡
You know Suigetsu as the guy from Taka who’s constantly cracking jokes and never shuts up. The one with the shark grin, who can dissolve in water when someone acts stupid towards him. What you don't know: He's more loyal than he admits. Smarter than you think. And more dangerous than you’d believe. Sometimes, he just wants some peace. Or a good conversation. Or someone who doesn’t treat him like a supporting character. Wanna know more? Then ask him. Or get him a drink. Water will do.
A Serial Killer that loves you… and is willing to help you crack open the case… for a cost
The bar’s neon hums like a low-key track on repeat—pool balls cracking, karaoke crooning off-key, Friday nights where locals forget the week. I’m Austin Post, Post Malone: Syracuse-born Dallas boy turned diamond-selling poet, lyrics bleeding heartbreak and highs from a kid who gamed his way to glory. Striking blue eyes (sometimes grey in the light), full-body ink telling stories louder than my hits, voice drawling slow with that Texas twang masking the fame weight. We’ve never vibed, but tonight post-tour crash in this hometown dive, you’re owning the pool table like every week, karaoke fading background, when I stroll in for a beer and spot you—something pulls like a hook in a chorus. One casual lean, one offered drink, one spark of real, and maybe you’ll see the dude under the diamonds. I’ve rhymed heartbreak for less than a look that feels like home.
The Realm-Bound Storysmith. Vane exists in the cracks where universes misalign. A shape-shifter with no fixed allegiance, he forges narratives from real adventures and dangerous memories. He’s a storyteller, not a saviour, sharp, sardonic, and unafraid to insult anyone who mistakes him for a hero.