#AFAB reader

[sleep-0-deprived]

Toji with a ftm reader NSFW head-cannons~! ૮ ˶ᵔ ˕ ᵔ˶ ྀིა

Taglist: @kimisbunny @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @asher-is-hotxp

A/N I’ve normally don’t do Afab works but I’ve noticed some of my followers are under the trans spectrum and I thought I’d try writing this with my one of my fav dilf!

Tags: p N’ v sex, face riding, cervix play, edging, cunilingus, squirting, mentions of breeding, fingering <33

Toji is the kinda man that would be confused at first when he sees your cunt, he wouldn’t understand until you explain you were trans and then he’d go back to not giving a damn, because at heart this man is a man-whore without a care in the world of what your genitals are. During your first time with him he would have you on top at first, watching you gripping his shoulders and have you moving up and down on his cock with his pelvic bone smushing your clit while he talks you through it. He’d start murmuring things like “didn’t know how good you were pretty boy, did you ride all your exes like a slut too?”

Toji has a knack for degrading you while he fucks you, depending on how he’s fucking uou he might praise you, his favorite position is missionary despite how basic it it he likes having your legs up on his hips while he presses himself as deep as his cock can go making you squirm when he places one hand down on your lower stomach while his tip pushes your cervix making them all sensitive while he coats your insides in a thin coat of pre- come while promising to knock you up. “You wanna be a daddy? hm? Tell me now and I’ll have you knocked up by mornin’ doll”

Toji is a total feen for you, he will never admit it but he has an oral fixation and loves eating you out, but Toji is still a lazy man at heart and would rather you blow him any day of the week but even when it comes to oral he’ll have you doing all the work while whining and pouting bucking your hips on his face making your clit press against his lips, practically begging him to suck at it harder. “Ain’t you just a fuckin greedy boy, you’ll take what I give ya, brat” he’d huff and press sloppy half assed kisses against your slit making your petals all puffy and sensitive from the touch. Toji will grip your thighs and move his hand up to your cheeks giving them a harsh pinch and spank combo while he eats you out like a starved man.

When Toji starts prepping you if he even does it always leads to edging you for a while, his fingers scissoring your inner walls and opening them up while his thumb presses and holds your clit down with slow rubs making you try to close your thighs but he just uses his other hand and holds your thighs open before pulling his hand away from you when he feels your cunt clamp up around his fingers making him lick over his scar and pull his fingers back making you a whining mess. “You aren’t coming that soon pretty boy so don’t bother poutin and puffin those little cheeks”

Toji will have mornings when he wakes up all hard and needy just rolling on his side and rubbing his bulge between your thighs, he’d slip his sweatpants down and pull your shorts to the side just fucking your pretty cunt while you sleep, his cock just abusing your womb over and over never pulling out even when he orgasm he always makes sure to finish inside you. His hand reaches forwards and gropes your tits through your shirt while rolling his hips and kissing at your shoulder making you reach your peak, all of the stimulating having you moaning and squirting on yourself with your eyes fluttering open and closed making Toji whisper in your ear “jus go back to sleep baby boy”

[whokilledsamara]

I saw you write for homicipher! Can I request some Mr Silvair Headcanons? I barely see content of him and I'm hungry 😭💕 I will give you my heart as a sacrifice 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

MR. SILVAIR HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Silvair hc list. {an: hand over that heart!!! >:3}

warnings! : sadism, orgasm denial, smut, blood play, Mr. Silvair is an extreme dom, marking, hair pulling, semi cuckhold, experimenting, afab and amad genitalia described

{an : this isnt bad per se, BUT he is very sadistic and is in denial of his love for you}

SFW HC "relationship" hc

unfortunately, a relationship with Mr. Silvair will be difficult to maintain.

he is in HEAVY denial that he loves you, and claims it is just experimental for "science", though inside he cant deny that you make him feel a certain way.

in his eyes, if Mr. Chopped likes you, then he likes you. simple.

wont push your boundaries, so tell him if you dont want him to do something specific when experimenting.

he will rarely let you touch him, but at no times will he allow you to touch his "eye" bandages. those are off limits to anyone.

doesnt understand "love" or most human reactions, so dont expect him to be all lovey dovey with you.

very work influenced man. will be nose deep in books.

doesnt hold grudges at all. so if you upset him a simple apology will fix it. even if there is no apology, it wont affect him.

he is relatively friendly with the others, but mainly close to Mr. Chopped.

doesnt sleep, so sometimes will watch you sleep. for "experiments" of course

i swear this man doesnt know how to button his shirt.. so you will have to be used to that.

he really likes your eyes. he has a weird fascination with the colors.

surprisingly possessive. usually he wouldnt care, but he does tense up when someone else touches you.

he does make it known that he is attracted to you, but tries to exclude the word "love"

NSFW HC sexy time..

he knows every spot, being a doctor and all, therefore he doesnt need much teaching. does enjoy learning things he already knows though for some reason.

adores your body. he doesnt express much emotion in general, but if you are lucky he will show a little bit over your body during sex.

makes little to no noise during the act, likes watching your expressions.

will absolutely let Mr. Chopped watch. for some reason.. only as long as you are comfortable with it of course.

respects boundaries, so please respect his.

he makes sure to keep your hands tied or something at all times. will rarely let them be free.

he doesnt give head often, but will on certain occasions. usually doesnt let you give him a blowjob, so that is very rare from him.

will laugh as he edges you. you would have to beg for him to let you cum, and even then he might not. likes to see you cry over him.

if on the rare occasion that your hands arent tied, he will let you pull his hair. he quite enjoys it actually.

if, and only if you allow him, he will use his scalpel to make light cuts along your body so he can lick the blood.

definitely the kind of guy to fuck you during your period if you menstruate. he gets down like that

{an : i love him sm, im definitely going to make a fic for him. send in requests!}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[splishfish]

Body Swap

Tomura Shigaraki x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, Missionary, Sloppy Sex, Inexperience fom both sides, Mutual Masturbation, Creampie, Unprotected Sex

WC: 728

”That bastard swapped us!”

”Maybe this isn’t so bad…i’ve always wanted to know what having a dick is like.”

Summary: After meeting up with a villain Grian had suggested you two meet, the encounter ends with the both of your bodies being swapped! Now, with no choice but to wait this out, the two of you decide to explore each others bodies in a m,ore intimate way than before.

AN: the pov's are fucked im so sorry if its confusing!! i have writers block so im sorry if it sucks ToT

Requests are open!

Two fingers pumped deep inside the sopping wet cunt of your body, slick coating the hand being used to finger you. Shaggy baby blue hair blurred your vision slightly as you stared down at your own blissed out face, a flushed face scrunching up in pleasure as fingers curled inside that spongy spot inside your body.

Shlck Shlck Shlck

A soft hand was wrapped around the throbbing cock attached to your temporary body. Tomura’s body. The hand moved quickly, squeezing each time you curled your fingers in just the right way, causing a moan to spill from your own face.

You hardly remember how you two ended up doing this, laying on your sides with your hands eagerly pleasuring each other in ways only you both knew how to do. Only you knew about that spongy spot deep inside your cunt, only inches away from your cervix. Only you knew exactly how to rub your clit in a way that caused your thighs to shake and your pussy to flutter. And now that you’ve been swapped with Tomura, you could so easily use his long fingers to hit those pretty spots just right.

It was the same for Tomura. He used your body as best as he could, jerking off the throbbing cock eagerly twitching between your legs. His hands moved at a perfect pace, squeezing and playing with the tip occasionally, the other hand fondling his oh so heavy yet sensitive balls.

Pants and moans were shared between you two, sloppy and messy kisses exchanged as you two pleasured each other. It felt like a dream. It felt so different from how you two would normally prepare each other. This felt so much more intimate.

Two lovers so eagerly pleasing each other in ways they knew no one else could. Teaching each other exactly how they liked to be touched, to be used. 

It was Perfect.

It was odd seeing your own face, so fucked and blissed out of its mind. Drool spilling from your pretty lips and wanton moans filling the room, a sight you were sure Tomura had seen time and time again.

It was instinctual, the way your hips slammed against the sloppy cunt underneath you. It felt like your brain was on autopilot, the body you were in finally taking control once the throbbing cock between your legs was inside the drooling cunt of your body.

It felt good. Really good. It was finally making sense to you why Tomura was always so eager and desperate when it came to having sex. The feeling of warmth and pleasure coursing through your veins was so intoxicating.

It took a long time for the both of you to finally find a pace and position that felt good for Tomura. He grunted and barked at you to fuck him this way, or fuck him that way, constantly begging commanding that you find the spongy spot inside him. It made you wonder if this is what you acted like during sex

But that didn't matter now. After all, he was desperately moaning and whining under you now.The legs wrapped around your slim waist trembled from pleasure, hands clawed at the arms that held you above your trembling body.

“F-Fuck! Shit! I-I’m gonna cum!” The deep raspy voice you now possessed let out a breathy chuckle, the voice ringing out with a slight stutter.

“H-Hah…How-how do you kn-know what an orgasm feels like..Ngh..! W-When you’re in a-a different body…?”

Before he could even answer, a shrill whine escaped his throat, his body convulsing and twitching almost violently. You could feel the cock between your legs twitch and throb, the pulsing walls suddenly clenching down against you, limiting your ability to thrust. The feeling was all so much, the sight and the sounds making you tremble with glee.

Suddenly you felt it. The balls swinging and plapping against the supple rear of your body tightened and quivered, your mind going hazy as you felt the sudden release of semen spill inside the wet cunt you stilled against.

You plopped down on top of him, hugging him closely despite the way he clawed at your arms in annoyance. Reluctantly rolling off him, you hugged him tight murmuring lazily. “I can see why you like having sex so often…”

“And I can see why you keep saying no…”

[hellinistical]

"Dance with me?"

WC: 903

Warnings: Fem.Reader

The studio was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, the sun spilling through the tall windows in streams of amber and honey. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, settling on half-finished canvases, scattered brushes, and palettes smeared with a rainbow of colors. On the worn leather couch in the corner, the artist lay sprawled, his arm draped over his face, the soft rise and fall of his chest betraying his peaceful slumber.

His lover stepped quietly into the room, her h/c hair ablaze in the sunlight. The glow caught every strand, making it look like a fiery halo surrounding her head. She paused, her eyes softening as they lingered on him. The way his hair was tousled, the smudge of paint still on his cheek—it was all so endearingly him.

A mischievous smile curled her lips. She tiptoed closer, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath her steps. Leaning over him, she placed her face close to his, her breath warm against his ear.

"Sleeping on the job again, are we?" she whispered, her voice playful.

The artist stirred but didn’t open his eyes. A small, lazy smile played on his lips as if even in his sleep, he recognized her teasing tone.

She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. "If you’re going to nap, at least do it in a bed, you dolt."

When he still didn’t respond, she leaned in closer, her lips almost grazing his ear. "If you don’t wake up, I’m going to paint something embarrassing on your face."

That did it. He groaned, his hand reaching out blindly to swat her away, but his smile widened. "Five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Not a chance," she replied, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his temple. The warmth of her lips seemed to wake him more than her words. He cracked open one eye, the golden light reflecting in its e/c depths.

"You're too pretty for your own good, you know that?" he murmured, his gaze tracing her glowing hair, her cheeks, and the way the sunlight made her eyes sparkle.

"And you’re too sluggish when you’re half-asleep," she shot back, tugging at his arm until he reluctantly sat up. His hair stuck up in wild directions, and she reached out to smooth it down, laughing when he pouted at her.

"Fine, I’m up," he grumbled, though the soft smile on his face betrayed him. "But only because you threatened my face."

She grinned, leaning down to kiss his lips this time. "See? I’m a great motivator."

Y/n set the stereo down on the coffee table with a gentle clunk, its worn-out casing a relic of countless years and countless songs. The bent antenna stuck up at an awkward angle, like a stubborn reminder of its resilience. The plastic had yellowed with age, but she swore it added character—just like Rafayel's perpetually paint-smeared hands.

“Dance with me?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with playful insistence. Her e/c eyes sparkled in the golden light, and her smile—cheeky and irresistible—hinted at mischief. She tugged on his hand, urging him up from the couch.

Rafayel raised a brow, his expression caught somewhere between amused and skeptical. "That thing still works?"

"It does now," she said, flashing him a triumphant grin. “I fixed it. Kind of. You just have to wiggle the antenna a bit.”

Before he could respond, she bent over the stereo, her hair cascading like liquid fire, and clicked a button. A static-filled hum buzzed through the room, followed by the crackle of an old tune fighting its way through the speakers. She gave the antenna a determined jiggle, and suddenly, a slow, soulful melody spilled into the space.

"See?" she said, straightening up and offering her hand again. "Now stop being grumpy and dance with me."

He sighed, a half-laugh escaping as he let her pull him to his feet. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"And you love it," she shot back, already swaying to the music.

Rafayel allowed himself to be guided, his larger hands settling on her waist as hers rested lightly on his shoulders. She moved effortlessly, her body flowing with the rhythm as if the song were written just for her. The golden light framed her, making her appear ethereal.

He stumbled a little at first, his sleep-heavy limbs struggling to find the beat, but her infectious energy soon drew him in. They swayed together, spinning in lazy circles across the wooden floor. She laughed when he misstepped, and he pretended to frown, only to catch her off-guard by dipping her dramatically.

"Show-off," she teased, her laughter bubbling up as he brought her back upright.

"You're the one who dragged me into this," he countered, but his grin betrayed him.

The song crackled and skipped, the stereo hiccuping under the strain of its age, but neither of them cared. In that golden-lit moment, the world outside the studio seemed to disappear, leaving only the music, their shared laughter, and the warmth of each other's presence.

As the melody faded, Y/n leaned into him, her cheek resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding her close.

"You're terrible at dancing," she murmured, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"And you're terrible at fixing stereos," he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note sorry this is also late i had to redo this chapter like 3 times cause i wasn't happy with it, i should stop re-reading a song of ice and fire while writing this 'cause i keep comparing my dialogue skills with fucking george rr martin and feel sad ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡ | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 6.016 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 8 - Consumption

You barely recognise life anymore—or anything for that matter. You feel sick, sticky and heavy, as if your body is full of liquids in every crevice. The world around you feels lighter than you yourself do, like you’re sinking below it and perpetually struggling to reach upwards to grasp at the people staring down at you from around the cot. 

  Ming Hui sets her hand on your stomach, and a pain so consuming you thrash and scream overrides any thought or consciousness. Hands hold you down to prevent you from hurting yourself or anyone else as the smaller girl tears (at least that’s what it feels like to you) blackened liquids and blood from the lacerations on your belly. 

  You throw up every day, most of the time several times a day, nights are filled with shivers and huddling under blankets when you try to close your eyes to sleep—and wake in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat and fever. 

  One night, you had a terrible dream—you’ve been having many bad dreams, terrible, suffocating dreams. Nightmares. You woke up to two pairs of hands shaking your shoulders, clapping your cheeks lightly in hopes of waking you before you hurt yourself. 

  Another night, you couldn’t sleep, you kept seeing dark snakes slither between beds—you told yourself that they aren’t real, there are no snakes so high in the mountain of Liyue… they are far more common between the mountains, in thick forests with plenty of opportunities for food for their size. 

  They never approach your bed, one circles around it before disappearing behind a shelf of ointments. Later the same morning, exhausted and dozing from a sleepless night, you thought you saw a white snake under the bandage around your left arm looking at you, you reached out to pet it, but it slid back inside. Into your bandages. Into your skin.

  The week drags on for what feels like several of them. Every morning, Ming Hui would perform a cleanse and try to purify parts of your body to keep the miasma from spreading into it, but you weren’t sure how much it was helping, at least, you didn’t start feeling better until a week and a half after the seven days of cleansing. 

  With a groan, you prop yourself up and get into a sitting position, fumbling to grab one of the seven or so books on the table next to the cot, you let it fall open onto your lap. Staring at the ceiling is impossibly boring, and you hope your body is giving you some energy to use your brain at least a little. The book doesn’t have a name on the cover, nor does it look like a printed book—it’s full of handwriting and for a moment you thought Guizhong might have accidentally lent you a diary… but as you squint and read further, you see that it’s something of a logbook. 

  Documentation of a crew’s trip on the sea, the management of resources and the direction of the winds… it’s a surprisingly soothing read, you craft the ship in your mind and imagine the soothing brush of waves against the wood, sun beating down and warming the skin.

  You open your eyes again as a healer touches your shoulder and asks to see your left arm again, you didn’t even realise you fell asleep. The prickly sensation of their fingers prodding at your arm is strange, like it’s felt through a few layers of clothing… you can feel it, but just kind of. You feel like you used to be able to tell what texture was touching you—a finger or a glove, the grass or floor. But now it all feels like the same kind of poking.

  You feel a fragment of dread every time Ming Hui comes up to your bed, but thankfully the last few times, she’s just been bringing you things. Doughy snacks from the capital, some sesame balls from the kitchens, papers and ink to draw on, anything. Unfortunately none of the foods or snacks stick in your belly for long… but it’s nice to taste them, if only a small nibble with the front of your teeth and a poke of your tongue. 

  It has been a long morning, you had woken up early due to your back starting to hurt because you’ve been laying down for so long—you really wish you could start to walk around, but even just sitting up feels like you’re leaving half your organs behind on your mattress… you look up as you hear footsteps approach and see a familiar face, though not one you expected.

  Cloud Retainer—rather roughly—takes your arm and lifts it up vertically, you make a strange startled, as well as surprised sound and try to tug it back, but she holds it firmly. Ground Mender follows behind and sighs. “Be gentle,” she scolds. 

  “Hmph, a sound of pain merely shows there’s still feeling in the limb,” she moves it horizontally and squeezes the sides of your elbow, you have no idea what she’s doing. “Squeeze into a fist for me.” 

  You do as she asks, curling your fingers as much as you can—it’s not a very good squeeze, if any, but you manage to curl them into a fist with trembling fingers, your fist twitches from the effort. “Like this?”

  “Hm, good enough,” she nods and begins to undo the bandage. You look at Ground Mender, but she doesn’t seem to stop the other adeptus, so surely it’s okay… the bandages have been changed many times, but you’ve always been either been half-asleep or too out of it to pay attention to it. The white cloth falls away from your skin and reveals a rather uncomfortable sight—your arm looks like it’s been through the ringer. The skin is uneven and looks more like crumpled parchment stretched over bone than the arm you’re more familiar with, the deep wounds were beginning to close but you could still clearly see the raised edges where it separated, having been knit together twice. 

  It’s a mangled, uncomfortable thing, your fingers twitch and a dull tug pulls at your senses where you think your joints should be—as if the entire arm was misaligned, off-kilter.

  Cloud Retainer turns your arm wrist up and then wrist down, looks at it with a scrutinising eye behind those red-rimmed glasses. You wonder if adepti need glasses or if it’s just fashion. 

  “What are you searching for?” you ask, your arm is tired, being raised like that for so long. You want to let it lay down and rest. 

  The adeptus pokes your palm with a sharp nail and your fingers twitch again, your eyebrows furrow in mild annoyance… you can only tolerate being prodded at without explanation for so long. Finally, she graces you with an answer. “The miasma is concentrated heavily in your arm, most of what was in your stomach has been pulled out… but there is little to do with this part here.”

  You look down at your arm… it doesn’t look as rotted as you recall others’ bodies would become after as long as it has stayed in your arm. A bit discoloured, maybe… just, different. “Little to do? Extraction has never failed… can’t we just dig in and drag it out…?” you don’t have the energy or capacity to recount a lengthy process, but cleansing has never failed you—you have yet to find an object or person who was too far gone.

  And surely, you are not…?

  Cloud Retainer wraps your arm again carefully, you see the golden eyes of a snake staring at you from between the bandages.

  “Then… what do we do?” you ask as if there was something for you to do. You can barely hold your arm at chest-height for too long.

  Cloud Retainer holds her hand out to Ground Mender, who hands her the familiar wooden board someone is always holding when standing by your bed. “Observe for now, the miasma is contained below your elbow—” you look at the ink on your arm, locked. “—and it doesn't seem to be rotting the skin, it’s stagnant.”

  You were better for a while, and got worse again. 

  You could imagine the ship, high tides and low, rocking among the waving ocean—a peek of sunlight. Two suns, warmth and stability. A calm sea surrounded by raging waters. 

  The perpetual taste of bile stings the back of your throat, it’s a wonder if you aren’t in danger of malnourishment—you’re unsure you’ve kept down a meal in three weeks. Your head swims and you get nauseous if you lie down, you’re nauseous if you sit up. The world spins when you try to stand, even with attendants insisting you move your legs and body to prevent clotting from forming in your feet. You are practically hauled onto a cart of some sort that holds only your upper body, when strength slips between your fingers and you slide off—only just barely caught by the attendants and brought back to bed, they decide to just assign someone to apply pressure to your feet instead to promote blood flow.

  It’s strange… it’s all treatment and techniques you’ve familiarised yourself with over the last months you’ve been working for the capital. But it feels so foreign to be on the receiving end. 

  Like a rocking ship, you managed to down some foods one morning—and kept them down over lunch time, for the first time in… how long has it been? You feed some of the congee to a smaller snake by your bedside. 

  Everyone around you seemed very excited, but you didn’t have the energy to return it—you know in your heart and gut that it could change at any moment… your day moves slowly as you flip the page of a rather difficult book Cloud Retainer gave to you, it’s only about half writing and the rest is just numbers. Your eyes rise when you see Morax approaching your bed, and you straighten instinctively—he has something in his hand, a bamboo food basket with a long handle. “Good afternoon,” he greets evenly and takes a foldable table that’s used to prop on the bed to allow patients to eat there. He sets the basket on the table over your lap—over your book—and steps away again… Morax has been very quiet recently, and you’re unsure why. You would never say you know him well, you are just barely on greeting or chatting terms, but you still feel a sense that something weighs on his mind. 

  He returns again with a spoon. “Zhou’s son recently made travels to the west, and on my walk through the streets, the old man demanded I try some cuisine his son had studied there. This is supposed to be easily digestible,” Morax takes your right hand, despite it being very much healthy and mobile. His slender fingers slide below your wrist and lift your hand where he lays the spoon against your upturned palm, your fingers instinctively curl around the cutlery despite the fact that your eyes aren’t watching it. His expression is firm, stiff and stony. 

  “It’s not dinner time yet,” you’re not sure why you said it, perhaps the silence was uncomfortable, or you want his gaze to leave your torso and rise to meet yours. 

  He blinks, there are so many things on his mind that it gets pulled away even in the respite he’s taking in bringing you food. “Yes, my apologies. Master Zhou was rather insistent that I stop by and taste his son’s food no matter the time of day, he said finding me during meal hours is too complicated,” Morax lets go of your arm and his hand goes to the basket, he takes the top off and the dish out.

  While the congee you ate this morning was nice and light on your stomach—this dish was a pale yellow as opposed to the white of the congee. It smelled warm and comforting but mild, like a stone left under the midday sun, a hot spring on a cold winter’s day in the mountains where the flakes melt against your cheeks, but your body and shoulders are enveloped in a warmed watery blanket. 

  You stop staring at the dish and stick your spoon into it, it’s soft and moist, the rice separate easily as you scoop a small bite past your lips, careful not to have too much at a time—your stomach has traumatised you over the week by acting up over the smallest thing.

  “Ground Mender and Cloud Retainer surmised that though initially we thought enough of the miasma had been cleared from around your organs, your body is still too weak to push out the rest by itself,” Morax finds a stool to sit on next to your bed, not wanting to intrude on the mattress itself. In your convinced state, the bed is your only privacy space that only feels more confined when the curtains are closed around it. 

  The bite of food fills your mouth—and though your taste buds are extra sensitive now with not eating a lot of foods for so long… licking a sesame ball doesn’t count for much, it tastes very much like the warm embrace the smell and temperature brings. The rice is soft and nearly dissolves on your tongue, the creamy texture of the bite spreading in your mouth and down your throat—it’s five times more warming and powerful than a sip of warm water to smooth out your scrunchy stomach. It gets to work and you instantly feel a sense of ease. 

  Morax watches you as you lick your lips, dipping the spoon again. “What is it? It’s very nice,” you ask as you take another—now a fuller spoon—of the surprising dish.

  “Khichdi,” Morax says the word carefully, as if he were trying to mimic a pronunciation. “After master Zhou’s son returned, a lot of the dishes he learned to make have become very popular in the neighbourhood.”

  You hum, you can see why—the flavour is very unique, even if it’s not very strong, it’s likely made with ingredients not found in the Guili Assembly. “Some vegetables could add to it,” you muse to yourself, but quickly try and correct yourself. “I-I mean, it’s very good like this, thank you—”

  Morax, however, seemed sheepish for a moment. “Ah… there are vegetables in it… but master Zhou asked for your preference and I couldn’t answer, I deemed it safer to ask them to chop a chosen few of them into… miniscule pieces, in case chewing would be discomforting, or you didn’t like the taste.”

 You look down at the bowl, sure enough, there are specs of green and red—how small can you even chop a vegetable?! This looks like a crumb of salt, you think as you squint at a tiny flake of red on your spoon between two grains of rice… your taste buds are in shambles, even just the flavours of this was making it difficult to tell the ingredients, though there are some you have never tasted before. “Ah, thank you for your consideration,” you say before setting another—now spoonful—in your mouth. You almost wish you had bread now, when even two days ago you couldn’t even think about food without your stomach curling up. 

  Another silence lingers, but it’s not uncomfortable—not waiting or hesitant. You slowly eat while Morax sits, he looks around the calm ward, it’s usually only used in dire circumstances—when the usual infirmary tucked on the first floor on his side between the palaces is full, you’re the only patient being tended to now. “Perhaps you will soon be ready to go above ground,” Morax says absently, not turning his head to you yet.

  “Hm? Someone could surely carry me there now, I can try walking again,” you say after a swallow, realising you were eating a bit too fast, you slowed down; your grandmother wouldn’t have you consuming a meal made in kindness at breakneck speed without appreciating the flavour and effort. 

  “Though I’m glad you feel confident, I would rather avoid you hurting yourself,” Morax shakes his head slowly. “We will see what Ground Mender says in the morning, if you keep this down.”

  You better, you tell yourself. 

  Morax stuck around until you finished, and he helped put away the wooden board as well as placed the bowl back into the basket which had been set aside. You expected him to leave, but he walks around the bed to the side of your injured arm and extends his own right hand. “May I?”

  Raising your arm slowly, it stutters and jerks slightly, as if you were fighting against your own muscles for them to listen to your commands.Morax takes your arm kindly, treats it with a gentle touch you would expect from a seasoned healer… a soft glow emits from his hands and you feel their warmth seep into your skin, for a moment it is comforting, a taste of the khichdi from his hands to your skin.

  But suddenly, it’s too hot—it burns.

  You yank your arm back instinctively, as if you had laid it on a raging fire and not realised until the flames licked your skin. “Ah—” your right hand fingers dig into the bandage of your left arm, trying to squeeze away the pain, to inflict it differently and drain it out.

  Morax tenses at the sudden reaction, his eyes flashing with a strange emotion you didn’t see long enough to discern. “What is it?” he asks with urgency, but he doesn’t touch you again. Not if it was his touch that was the cause of your startling. “Did I hurt you?”

  “N-No,” you say quickly, but you’re not sure—it only happened because his fingers rested on your arm, but they were gentle, like leaves brushing against cobblestone in a drifting breeze. “What were you doing?”

  You don’t mean for your question to sound accusing, you hope Morax doesn’t take it as such. He looks from your eyes down to your clutched arm, eyebrows pinched in thought. “Does it still hurt?”

  “A little…” you mumble. Your arm tingles and your fingers tremble slightly, it has felt strangely cold—as opposed to the warmth that always emanated from corrupt skin, the miasma displaying symptoms of infections, because one corrupted is being infected. 

  “I was merely examining your energies, but as soon as I touched them…” he looked at his own hand. Your body had rejected his energies before—but they had not simply evaporated now, he was pushed back. 

  He does not like it. 

  You rub at your arm gently, nails scratching at the bandage now that you had the excuse. The bandage is wrapped so densely, your skin is moist and itchy. “Don’t scratch it,” Morax scolds as you do, and with a defeated sigh you look up at him again and tense. 

  There is an unmoving silence before you quickly look away again, but Morax saw the surprise and—fear? Concern?—on your face before you turned back to your arm. He says your name firmly, firmer than you’re sure you’ve heard before. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing,” you say quickly. There was a snake around his shoulders. Writhing and wrapping around his throat. 

  They’re not real. You must just be malnourished, sick. Hallucinating. 

  Morax doesn’t react when the snake squeezes his neck.

  It’s not real.

  You pant, heart racing and pounding against your chest—you feel it so vividly you’re sure you could lay your fingers over your chest and pinch it when it presses between your ribs. You feel dizzy, and disoriented, eyes looking down to your left arm, it’s there—all fingers attached as usual. 

  Just seconds ago it had been red, open, you could reach out and touch the bone, you could wrap your fingers around it while your skin and muscles slipped off your arm and landed with a wet squelching sound on the floor.

  You’ve been having nightmares again. 

  It doesn’t have any comprehensive or predictable patterns, one night your head is in the maws of a beast, another you’re drowning under a tidal wave of iron-tasting water, unable to breathe or see as it stings your eyes and burns your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut, running your right hand over your face tightly, squishing your nose slightly with your palm. 

  It’s exhausting. The day is tiring enough already, and you find no solace in sleep. You don’t even have the luxury of turning from one side or the other, any position other than flat on your back feels like your intestines are going to spill out through your belly button. 

  You glance at the breakfast laid out for you, sitting on the bedside table as it cools. Congee and some bread… but you don’t feel hungry. Not for what feels like the hundredth bowl of congee, you haven’t returned your meals in a few days, but yet Ground Mender denied you when you asked if you could be brought above ground.

  “We don’t have much space in the palace infirmary.”

  “Did something happen?” you had asked, you hadn’t heard of anything, but you haven’t heard much of the outside world in a while.

  Ground Mender changed the subject without telling you, and you were starting to feel that you were being kept alone in this massive hall for… what? You’re getting better, slowly, you managed to walk around your bed with some support, but you would never make it up the endless staircase leading to the sun-touched hallways. 

  It’s been a month and a half, according to an attendant that brought your breakfast. Your muscles have atrophied terribly and even just standing so someone can help you bathe is exhausting. 

  A hand touches your breakfast tray and you look up to see Moon Carver. It feels like every person you’ve met in the last months has been coming around to check on you… it’s strange. You’ve never stayed in one place for long enough for anyone to notice absent days of sickness, to inquire why you close your home off for cleansing for a week.

  You had returned to a small village that specialised in silk weaving and no one had remembered your face, despite the fact you had discovered the foul energies poisoning a part of the nearby forest, which caused a devastating number of lost silkworms over the span of three years. 

  You had seen your reflection recently and didn’t recognise yourself either. 

  “Time to stretch your legs, come on,” the adeptus tilts his head for you to get up. “The more you skimp out, the longer it will take to build those muscles up again.”

  If you don’t move, he’ll continue to pester you… you move the blanket off your lap and Moon Carver takes under your right elbow to help you stand. You’re steadier on your feet than you were before, but you always feel like your legs’ sense of balance is different from your mind’s. 

  “Starting to think you ask for babysitting duty,” you mumble, a poor attempt at humour as you take careful steps. You feel exhausted, but not like you would after running—there’s no burn, there’s no ache or cramp. You just feel like you’re going to slink down onto the floor like a dropped paper, swaying back and forth before gliding under a cabinet. 

  Moon Carver huffs, his grip is strong. “It’s not easy to say no to this one’s Lord.”

  “Would you if it were?” you wonder why Morax would ask Moon Carver to check on you, surely he has more important things to do. 

  He doesn’t answer, changing the subject. You’ve started to notice that when an adeptus doesn’t want to tell you something, they will just become quiet or dodge your question. “Let us go towards the stairs and back.”

  You frown. “All the way? It’s far…”

  It’s barely thirty steps, sixty in total there and back. You’ve walked this distance without a thought several times, so many you can’t begin to imagine how often. Light on your feet, walking briskly with tools, trays or heavy baskets you are sure you couldn’t try to lift up now. 

  It seems so far, yet you know it’s not. You just have to put one foot in front of the other, not think, not look at the distance, look at your feet, the floor. 

  You’ve had different nightmares. 

  Strange, different.

  Sinking below the claustrophobic, choking earth. Deeper into the iron water. Sinking. Watching the surface of the world like a reflection of sunlight from above the sea, blinding. 

  They’re vivid, but not scary.

  Just strange. Different. 

  Not nightmares.

  You wake and feel the warmth of the sun on your cheeks, it filters through oiled paper and you shift to your side. You don’t feel pain laying on your side anymore, but it’s not comfortable either… but you want to sleep, and the sun—though filtered—is in your eyes. You prefer to lay on your right side when you rarely roll, it’s easier if you have to sit up. 

  “Hmm, I would have thought you would be happy to see the sun?” Guizhong sets her hands on her hips, standing next to your bed suddenly—you didn’t hear her approach, but her preference to forgo shoes makes her footsteps very quiet. 

  You are happy to see it, Moon Carver helped Ground Mender carry you up the stairs last night. There’s less quiet in the palace infirmary, more patients coming and going and attendants rushing about… but as you don’t feel as sick as you did even just a week ago, it’s not as overwhelming to hear people wandering about, if anything, it’s comforting. 

  “I am,” you mumble, giving up on your prolonged rest to turn back on your back. “It’s warm.”

  “It won’t be for long, summer is coming to an end soon,” Guizhong approaches your bed and makes room for herself on the side of it next to you. “You should try and enjoy the warmth while it’s still here, do you want to go outside?”

  You do, you want to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, to breathe in the fresh mountain air and feel the breeze ruffle your clothes. 

  But you don’t trust yourself to make it alone, even if you were to just stand by the walkway and hold onto the railing. “Will you help me?”

  “Of course,” Guizhong moves off the bed and straightens. “Let’s greet the fishes in the gardens.”

  You want to squat down and let the carps nibble on your finger, but you worry you might not be able to get back up easily, or you might pull on something. Instead, you merely stare longingly while Guizhong kneels down and feeds them from her hand.

  There’s not much wind today, barely the breeze you longed for—but even just the soft brush of air is more than you’ve had for weeks. You squint up towards the sky, a few clouds lazily drifting across the vast expanse as the sun hangs high above your heads.

  You hear the waters of the pond and small stream that cuts through the back gardens, a usually peaceful ambiance that makes you slightly uneasy now. You can’t imagine yourself stepping into a river anytime soon… you know that rationally, there is no danger in the small waters of the gardens, but the thought of touching the waters makes your skin crawl. 

  Footsteps approach the two of you and Cloud Retainer stops next to you—she has a floating bird crafted from bamboo and paper next to her, you hope it doesn’t shoot darts at the fish—with a flourish of her hair. “Your breakfast is waiting for you.”

  Ah. “I’m not hungry,” you turn your gaze away from the eccentric inventor, looking down to the Lord of Dust that pets every fish that comes to eat from her hand. 

  “You said the same thing last night,” she folds her arms over her chest. “You need energy.”

  She’s right, of course. “... okay, I’ll try.”

  You sit on the side of the road, a weary log under you and soft grass beneath your feet, the sun slowly sinks below the treeline as you stretch your legs and raise your gaze to the pink sky, your surroundings are peaceful and silent—a captured moment in time where you get to be alone with yourself. 

  Long, high trees line the road behind you and shield you from the rest of the world, the view before you is a comfort and home. Rolling hills, distant farms and fields of flowers spread over the land, coloured orange and pink with the reflective sky.

  A child runs past you, they trip on a rock and tumble to the floor—but no sounds of pain leave them, giggles and snickers as an older sibling runs past them, grabbing their shirt and hauling them up on their feet as they continue their sprint. 

  You don’t recognise them, but they feel familiar.

  You feel no wind nor the heat of the sinking sun, the sky is clear of clouds and birds, there is nothing but the wide scroll of the heavens furling across the air, opening up to reflect their blessings of fertile lands and fresh produce. You stretch your arms above your head and stand up, patting your clothes down to rid of any grass or dirt before continuing on your way. 

  You see him in the distance, and your pace increases. A flow of white robes and long brown hair, he turns off the gravel road and walks towards the thick treeline. Where is he going? You only see his back, the golden lines glowing in the darkening surroundings—as if beckoning you to follow, a guiding light. 

  But before you can leave the road and follow him into the forest, a hand grabs your elbow and stops you.

  You hear your name and blink—there’s no trees in front of you, there is a deep crater that is centred with a pool of water. Dry dirt crumbs fall down from below your foot and roll to the body of water, creating ripples in the still waters.

  Suddenly, you feel as if all the weight of the world is bearing down on your body, you’re cold, your feet hurt—you’re not wearing shoes. You stand at the edge of a crater, one step from tumbling down, and in the battered state you’re already in, it wouldn’t be a good tumble. You look back and see Morax staring at you, his hair is tousled and eyes strangely wide—you have never seen his face make such a vivid expression, one of surprise and concern. He tugs you backwards and you fall into him, your legs give out and tremble with strain. There’s a dull, agitating throb in your arm and stomach, a pulsing throb in tune with your heartbeat, in tune with the sway of the grass around you. Back-forth. Back-forth—

  You hear your name again, his arms hold you up and prevent you from sinking down to the ground. “Can you hear me?” 

  You can, but you find it difficult to voice your confirmations. You’re cold, it’s nighttime—how is it night already? The stars dot the sky with bright flickers and you try to stand, but your feet feel like heavy weights, a thrumming prick of needles rushes through them when you try to put pressure on them. 

  Why does it feel like he is always seeing you at your worst? 

  Sick. Injured. Hurting. 

  You would rather fall into the crater, he must think you a burden on—

  “You’re trembling,” his voice is louder than the brushing wind, louder in your ear than the sway of branches and rustling of leaves. “How have you found yourself here? In the darkness of night, alone and so far from the city?”

  He sounds different, urgent and more pointed—as if a front has been reached through, a hand through fog holding your arms as he steadies you against him. Morax’s body is warm. “You… it was you, I was following you,”you finally manage. But when did you start chasing him? You don’t remember starting a journey. 

  “Me?” he hesitates for only a beat of your erratic heart. “Are you certain?” Morax reins in his urgent tone, carefully choosing his words. “Word was sent to me that you had disappeared from your bed, it has been two days—do you know where you are?”

  “No,” it’s an easy question to answer, despite it being so difficult to think of what had just happened mere hours ago, days ago—a week ago. Your tense of time is ruffled, what had been the last thing you had been doing? Were you asleep before or after finishing the book Guizhong had left you?

  “The energies in your arm have spread again,” he moves—tugging your rather limp body along with him as he kneels on the soft ground. You feel the tickle of grass on your calves and realise you’re still wearing the short pants and shirt you were put in and made to use by the medical ward. Morax tilts you towards him as he unfurls the bandage on your arm, your side and right arm rest against his chest and torso, your head falling rather lamely against his shoulder—it’s a strangely intimate position that neither of you consider given the circumstance, it doesn’t feel intimate, it only serves the purpose of not having you fall over while his hands are occupied.

  The ink that had been sealing the miasma below your elbow was smudged—this type of ink doesn’t smudge for this specific reason. Blackened veins travel up your arm, so stark against your skin that they might as well be drawn on. They rise up your bicep and fade just below your neck. Morax’s eyes are focused and firm as he turns your throbbing arm palm up to examine it further. “The seal has been torn,” his fingers ghost over the blackened veins on your arm, you’ve only felt his gloved hands before, you wonder if his fingers are softer than the texture of his clothes. “You said you were following me.”

  You were… or, you thought so. “It looked like you,” you say it more so to yourself than him.

  “Did you see its face?” he asks as he wraps your arm again,  your skin is ice cold to the touch—the weather has cooled as summer is coming to an end, and with the Guili Assembly’s elevated land, it gets colder faster. 

  “No,” you mumble, shoulders raised as a cool breeze brushes past your neck, raising shivers on your skin. 

  Morax doesn’t ask further questions, but it doesn’t leave his mind either. He believes what you say, what you saw… real or not, it only serves to drive his concern for your well-being, physical and mental. 

  His hand raises, and you feel something touch your head. You squint your eyes open—you didn’t even realise you had closed them—and tilt your head to look at his face. Morax’s face is so close you can feel the warm brush of his breath on your cold chin, it blooms over the bottom half of your face. “What are you doing…?”

  His fingers halt and lift from your head, Morax blinks down at you. “I… heard it is a sign of comfort.”

  He was patting your head, trying to comfort you—it was… rather cute, that he tried even while struggling to grasp whether it would be appreciated or not. “Oh… thank you, it’s okay,” your torso doesn’t feel as cold anymore. Morax seems to take your waiting eyes as permission, and his palm rests on your head again, carefully. He doesn’t stroke or scratch like one would do with a pet or animal, his palm and fingers lift slightly and touch back down a few times. 

  You never thought you would be petted like this by a god, had you told yourself a few months ago, you would have found it funny—silly maybe. But… now that his warm hand touches your head gently, you find that it is comforting.

[nanamis-bigtie]

bonus voting rounds for lucid love

the event of lucid love was finished together with kinktober but you wanted to see the remaining prompts & to vote for your favorite ones. so - here they are!

there are 5 votings, votings 1-3 focused on BDSM and votings 4 & 5 focused on fetish. votings 2-5 will be included in reblogs and linked here as well, for those who don't like to dig in notes ❤

voting 2 | voting 3 | voting 4 | voting 5

[bigbluemangroupie]

Jinbe Smut Alphabet

Explicit Content MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4,264

Synopsis: Title is pretty self explanatory. I saw a few of these and thought it’d be a fun way to hash out some of my horny Fish Daddy headcannons.

Written with a cis AFAB reader and established relationship in mind.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Soon as he recovers, he always cums last, he’s quick to get off you and apologizes over and over for squishing you if he was on top. (But he has nothing to be sorry about, it’s a good kind of being squished. He’s never so out of control that he would put his full weight on you.)

Jinbe will painstakingly run his big hands all over your body checking for anything out of sorts. He hasn’t ever had the luxury of many personal possessions, from growing up in an orphanage, to living in soldiers’ barracks and then on pirate ships. His brand of affection involves what he can do with his own body. He’ll massage away any knots and aches you have with impossible dexterity, the entire time cooing about how lucky he is to have you.

Privacy is paramount to Jinbe, if he’s absolutely sure the coast is clear he’ll take you for a cuddle in the bath, but normally he’ll settle for bringing some warm towels to wipe you down with. You’ll need it, big boy cums in volume. In true dad fashion, Jinbe falls asleep instantly when his head hits the pillow, so don’t expect pillow talk once you’re both settled under the covers.

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B = Body part (favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jinbe’s Body- His hands. Jinbe is a textbook soft dom. He doesn’t enjoy actual sadism, but baby he loves to be in control. Manhandling you and holding you down are enormous turn ons in and out of the bedroom. He becomes transfixed by the way he can cover entire parts of your body with one hand, even larger humans are so small in comparison to him. If you’ve been together for a while and he’s comfortable enough, he may even show you a few non combat uses for Fish Man Jujutsu.

Your Body- Thighs, breasts and ass. It’s more about having something substantial to grab onto and manipulate you with than the body part itself. After all, you’re his pearl, his sweet little lover, every part of you is a treasure. Jinbe likes to watch his fingertips sink into your flesh when he holds on. Leaving little marks (bruises and indents, he doesn’t like to draw blood) on those places after holding you down with his hands or teeth turn him on more than he’ll ever admit; if they are still visible the next day you might catch him staring with a blush on his face.

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C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jinbe’s sexual stamina has increased to ridiculous levels in his middle age. He does have a longer refractory period than a younger man which he more than makes up for in endurance. Once, when you were the only two left on the ship overnight, he managed to fuck you for nearly two hours straight until the chafing got to be too much. His physical release is just as impressive. You now know to keep plenty of towels in your cabin, if it’s been awhile for him the aftermath looks like someone has dumped a bucket of cloudy salt water.

Jinbe gets most of his pleasure from pleasuring you. He’s steadily getting more comfortable receiving pleasure and praise, but he really thrives when dishing it out. He adores sitting you on his face while he holds you still so you have no other option than to submit to coming over and over on his tongue. The feeling of your body clamping down desperately on his cocks during your orgasm might be his absolute favorite part of sex.

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D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jinbe loves having his prostate milked. He’s not too keen on being outright pegged, although he’ll give it a go if you say please, but he’s an outright whore when your fingers are curling inside him (if you tell him this you’ll never be able to do it again). It took a lot of nagging to finally get him to admit it, and even more to let you finger him. He will only let you finger him from behind with his face buried in a pillow; he’s way too embarrassed to let you see him groaning and gasping.

Once he let you role play as a nurse giving him a prostate exam. While he came harder than you’d ever seen before, don’t expect to get to do it again anytime soon. You couldn’t get him to make eye contact for nearly two days after and he frantically changes the subject whenever you bring it up. Poor sweet thing takes himself way too seriously.

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E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jinbe had a few short-lived romances in his late teens and early to mid twenties. As a member and then captain of the Sun Pirates he didn’t feel like he had the time to give a romantic partner the attention they deserved and shut that part of himself down tight. He did have the occasional one off but it always left him feeling awful. Jinbe needs a long term emotional connection to properly enjoy himself.

However, don’t think for a second he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Taking care and control are what he does best in all aspects of life, and you’ve been thoroughly satisfied since the first time you made love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

In the beginning it was definitely anything with you on top facing him, lotus positions were the most common. Being a normal sized person it’s to find enough purchase to properly ride him, but Jinbe is more than willing to lift you up and down himself. And let’s be honest, he wants to do the work.

Now that you’ve convinced him he won’t snap you in half, he’s much more amiable to (gingerly) climbing on top of you. You both enjoy tilted guard; you can trap one cock between your thighs and against your clit while the other fucks your pussy.

When you’re in the mood for some double penetration, Jinbe likes to have you in a standing full Nelson. There are two main reasons for this, firstly he has total control on how deep he can thrust into you so as not to hurt you. He’s very concerned that you’ll push yourself too far trying to please him. Secondly, you’re the first partner he’s had that has even attempted to take both of his claspers at once. The intense grip on his cocks coupled with the blissful expression on your face would have him cumming far too soon and he takes pride in his self restraint. Not that you’re complaining, holes stuffed full, unable to say anything other than his name.

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G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Jinbe has a thing for brat taming. Every snarky or childish remark from you is met with playful chiding. When he really gets going he’ll tease you right back, sometimes with a little smack on your ass. Outside the bedroom he’s known to throw smaller crewmates around playfully, that behavior for sure extends to other kinds of intimacy. Calling him “old man” during sex always leads to him pinning you down while you both laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jinbe has very little body hair. The hair he does have (armpits and groin) is surprisingly thick and curly but always very clean. He takes great pride in his appearance, in a traditionally masculine way, from his meticulously maintained clothing to his smooth short clipped nails. This attention to detail most likely is a result of being the top Fishman Karate master of his generation.

The hair on his head is no exception, but he has left a lot of its care to you since becoming a couple. The entire world falls away when your hands are in his hair, brushing, washing or just simply carding through it while you murmur sweet nothings to each other in the privacy of your cabin. It’s a rare indulgence for him, letting someone else take care of him for a change, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Flowers and chocolates are absolutely not a Jinbe thing; you don’t need or want those cliches anyway. What he does give you is so much sweeter. Long talks in the moonlight where he gradually opens up about his childhood, amused sideways glances when your younger crewmates misbehave, a firm hand on your shoulder when you need grounding. A best friend, a doting partner, and a fierce protector are the gifts Jinbe gives you.

He won’t kiss you or explicitly flirt in public, those things are just for the two of you, but if you’re close enough he’ll be touching you in some way. As you organically let your crewmates discover your relationship the small touches turn into spending most of your downtime laying on his stomach while he basks in the sun or sitting on one of his shoulders looking out at the horizon. It feels like you’re on top of the world.

You have the same feeling looking up into his eyes as he bounces you on his cocks. He’ll tell you how much he adores you over and over again while you make love and after, but he doesn’t need to. You know. And you adore him too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Masturbation is not something Jinbe does a lot. Even as a very young man he didn’t indulge as often as most. He understands the importance of knowing your own body and would never judge someone else for partaking (as long as they are exceedingly discrete).

However, you may be able to convince him in some long distance fun through a den den mushi. It helps if you’ve been apart for a while. Complete privacy on both ends is an absolute must. If all these stars align, buckle up, he’s gonna talk you through at least two orgasms before he even takes out his cocks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

A lot of what Jinbe likes during sex is just an extension of what he does outside of it. Even in platonic relationships he’s a service dom Daddy. His thing for prostate milking is more about the sensation than the kink of it (excluding the nurse role play incident you are not going to bring up again).

If anything could be considered a kink, it would probably be fucking both of your holes at once. You learn early on in your relationship that with claspers, only one needs to be stimulated to induce orgasm. (Who doesn’t love a biology lesson while getting railed.) Both at once is an insane amount of sensation, edging on pain. It’s something saved for special occasions, but baby, he makes it special.

Earlier in the day he’ll request that you really clean yourself well, the first time he had to spell it out for you in frantic embarrassment when you took offense. When it’s finally showtime, he’ll plop you down on his face, sucking an orgasm or two out of your clit, moving down to tongue fuck your relaxed cunt. Finally he licks down to your puckered little asshole, rubbing circles around the entrance before plunging his tongue in and taking his sweet time to stretch it out. He’ll rub your swollen clit with his thumb as he curls and thrusts his tongue, and you’re coming again, losing the ability to hold yourself up, finally relaxed enough for the main event. He’ll either stand or kneel, holding you against him, bent in half, back against his chest, feet by your shoulders. A healthy amount of lube coats his cocks and your holes helping him glide into you, stopping as soon as he feels resistance. Jinbe snaps into you relentlessly, amazingly never going too deep. When he comes it’s like a tidal wave, gushing out of your body around his cocks. After he slips out he’ll spend a few seconds admiring his seed oozing out of your reddened, twitching holes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Privacy is so, so, so crucial for Jinbe. The beginning of your physical relationship was tough, there are very few opportunities to be alone on the Sunny. Most of your dalliances were in the aquarium bar or bathroom when you were the only two abroad. Calling it frustrating wouldn’t do the situation justice.

Franky, thanks to Robin, is one of the first to notice your relationship. He very sweetly remodeled a section of the bar into a small third cabin, finally giving you two a place to be consistently alone. (It took so long for Luffy and Zoro to understand you were together even after you became “roommates”.) Your shared bed is Jinbe’s favorite place onboard, just very slightly ahead of the helm, he almost never wants to fuck anywhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Jinbe loves when you laugh. You are his treasure, seeing and hearing that you are happy fills his whole body with that loving feeling. When you’re close, and crane your neck up to smile just for him, it sets him on fire.

Jinbe has a preference for people who identify as female but is also most likely demisexual. He certainly will notice how objectively attractive you are when you meet, but that’s not of much consequence. It will be noticing how witty you can be in conversation that first piques his interest. When he gradually learns how kind, brave and honest you are, that’s when he’s set on making you his.

As your relationship progresses he starts to get aroused by the sight of your body more and more. Overtly sexy things are fine, but the unintentional flash of cleavage, peek at the small of your back, or outline of your ass in tight bottoms, those things really get him going.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything dealing with humiliation or the possibility of it is a big no from the big guy. No degradation, no spitting, no water sports. Cumming on your face seems disrespectful (not to mention that it would be like blasting you point blank with a garden hose). Having you ask him politely to do things is a turn on, but he won’t make you beg.

Exhibtionism is a no go. He’s not such a prude he won’t bathe with the crew in an onsen, you’ve even gone skinny dipping together at twilight, but a peck on the lips and a chaste cuddle are about as amorous as he gets in front of others.

It almost goes without saying, but he absolutely will not do anything that causes you physical harm beyond a light spank or love bite. While he loves holding you in place, most forms of bondage are pretty off putting, especially after his time at Impel Down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving- Jinbe isn’t the boss of cunnilingus, he’s the CEO, CFO and Chairman of the Board. Sensitive and observant, he’ll know just how much time to spend warming you up. That man drives you wild with long, leisurely licks across your entire vulva with his rough, flattened tongue. Jinbe sucks on your labia and massages the entrance of your hole until your slick is oozing freely and your pretty clit is swollen and throbbing. The look on his face whenever he pulls back to admire your cunt has you feeling so completely adored you nearly cry. When he deems you ready he’ll kiss your clit, murmur something about having the prettiest pearl, and dive in. It takes no time at all for him to suss out how you like it, and he’s capable of repeating any particular motion you need indefinitely. Jinbe’s been around the block long enough to know it’s not about flashy tricks; real pleasure is about patience and endurance, repeating the right movement for however long your partner needs to find their high. Calloused fingers find their way to your chest, toying with your nipples, and before you know it you’re careening into ecstasy. You’ve lost count on how many times in a row he’s been able to make you cum on his tongue this way.

Receiving- Jinbe has a hard time letting you fellate him for more than a few minutes. At first he was concerned you weren’t getting anything out of it, but he respects you enough to believe it when you tell him how much his huge, throbbing cocks get you going. Finding your cunt drenched and twitching after the act helps drive the point home. It’s all he can do not to unravel when you kneel between his thighs. He’s cracked the headboard in his grip several times when you lick and suck up and down his shafts. The image of you with his cocks between your breasts, small mouth stretched around the tips nearly sent him to an early grave. He can’t help but pull you up to ravish you. Well, he could, but where’s the fun in that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Making love is what you do with Jinbe, no matter the position or sex act. Sometimes it will be faster or harder than other times. Jinbe doesn’t need fast or hard. He’s learning to be selfish, in the way romantic love is selfish. Jinbe’s selfishness takes form in the way he savors your love making like fine wine. Perhaps if you’d met sooner, before his forties, it would have been shorter, rougher, more frequent sex. At the age he is now, his libido is still going strong, but cumming isn’t as much a daily necessity as it is a form of expressing his love for you. Not unlike an artist at his craft, he takes his time and pays attention to the details. Every single one of your tender, quivering details.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are for boys, and Jinbe is a (fish)man. When he has an inconvenient urge he’s easily able to store the thought for later. Then, when the time is right, he’ll huskily whisper his lustful thoughts into your ear as he fingers you open. It’s absolutely worth the wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Experimenting is a slow process. Jinbe can go from completely in control during the act, to polite and bashful outside of it. Never one to deny you, you still may need to warm him up to the idea of anything remotely kinky. Letting you finger him was a very big deal, but after that success you found he was a little more keen to try new things.

The riskiest thing you ever did was after very, very carefully making sure no one would ever be able to see you, go for a late night skinny dip that led to you being eaten out, legs over Jinbe’s shoulders under the water, back pressed against the hull of the Sunny. Only your head and shoulders out of the water in the cloudy pitch black night, Jinbe felt it was just barely private enough. While it was hot as fuck, the memory replays in your head frequently, Jinbe’s anxiety before and after sours you both on doing it again. You’ll have to think of a more private way to capitalize on your lover’s ability to breathe underwater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Numerous rounds are not a thing Jinbe does often in middle age, but every so often he can go twice in the same night. Don’t fret, his infamous stamina extends to the bedroom. He’s willing to hold out however long it takes to completely satisfy you, often you have to ask him nicely to fill you up with his seed before he’s willing to let go. You deserve every single orgasm he can give you, and he’ll be damned if his own release gets in the way. Unfortunately chafing is a real hazard and the fun does have to end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s not crazy about toys, although that’s something he would possibly warm up to. Toys haven’t been a practicality in the past. If you’re into toys and initiate the idea, he absolutely would hold a wand to your clit or slide a pretty butt plug into you.

Again it would never be his idea, but Jinbe would let you use simple toys on him. A cock sleeve on one clasper while you lick and suck its twin has him praising your creativity. If he’s really, really in the mood you might even slide a prostate toy into that tight blue hole so it can rock against his sweet spot while he fucks you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

What Jinbe does is barely enough to be considered teasing. He likes to play a game where he’ll hover over wherever you want him and make you ask him to touch or fuck you. You know to say please. Something about you politely asking for exactly what you want gets him diamond hard. If you do ask in a sassy way, call him Daddy or Boss, or (worst of all) Old Man, you can be sure you’ll be pinned down by a laughing behemoth and in for a very thorough fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jinbe tries to keep his voice low, limited to sweet nothings and praise. The next tier is groaning, head nodding back but still in control of his volume. But the biggest treat is when he completely loses it, barely breathing, and lets loose a husky, barely audible “fuck”.

He loves to make you sing for him. Ever considerate of your crewmates and your honor, he’ll slide his thumb into your mouth to quiet you. The sensations of your moans, gently scraping teeth and wandering tongue send shockwaves down his body. Possibly earning you that delicious little “fuck” in return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jinbe adores the way you smell. Not so much an armpit guy, although that doesn’t bother him a bit unless you’ve been forced to go without bathing for an extended amount of time. What he does love is the smell of your sweaty breasts and pussy. When he gets the pleasure of undressing you he’ll always bring your bra and panties to his face for a quick sniff before tossing them aside.

Once, when you were apart for a few weeks, you snuck a couple pairs of dirty panties into his bag. The night after he found them, you had a very exciting conversation via den den mushi. The grand finale was Jinbe coming with one pair of panties entangled in his claspers while the other was pressed firmly against his nose, thanking you profusely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

X = X-Ray (what are they packing)

Jinbe will absolutely try his best to explain to you what he’s got going on before you see it, but words cannot do it justice. You’re ready for two of them, that part is easy enough to understand. And you think you’re ready for the size, you get he’s going to be big at 9’10”. The reality is so much better, and more intimidating, than you could ever imagine. Almost perfectly straight when aroused, the right one is over a foot long, the left an inch or two shorter. He has no external gonads, just a very small pair of fins where they would be. There’s almost no distinction between the heads and shafts, aside from little pearl like bumps under the skin around the tips. Only during orgasm do the heads swell to lock him into his partner. The skin is just blue enough not to be white and incredibly smooth. Thankfully they are individually little more narrow than a human cock would be at that ridiculous length, giving you a little hope that you might be able to take both at once, if you’re feeling adventurous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

The more you cement your emotional connection with Jinbe, the higher his sex drive. However, he is long past the need for nightly gratification, and honestly he has shit to do as the helmsman and acting father of the Strawhats. He would never, ever let you go needy, but chances are if you’re with Jinbe you’re also the kind of person that has shit to do and pirates to wrangle. You may still have a slightly higher need than his, but he has no problem rising to the occasion a few times a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

Jinbe is (figuratively) a father, a dad, and a Daddy. These things all conspire together to make Jinbe prone to passing out the exact moment he lies on his back. You can trust him not to leave you dripping with the remnants of his love making, but the very nanosecond you are clean, rubbed down and happy, that man is out like a light. It’s kind of amazing, you’ve spent more than one restless night wishing he could teach you how to do it.

[ijwtbap]

ㅤㅤ★ㅤRings — Bakugō.

— Bakugō x M!reader

Angst (?)

a/n. I have no idea, I was bored. Also Idk how to do angst so sorry for this. Each one shot I publish is a hate crime against myself.

You never really cared about marriage. It's not like a boy like you can just go ahead and marry another boy; the world would never see that as right. So you gave up on the idea years ago.

 

Flowers, elegant suits, the food, the honeymoon, the big cake—none of it mattered to you.

 

Until you started dating Bakugō.

 

He made you want to curse the world for deeming two men loving each other as wrong. You only wanted to hold your boyfriend's hand, whisper sweet things in his ear, kiss his cheek in public, dance, hug him without looking for an excuse, and put a ring on his finger.

 

A ring. It's just a jewelry piece, but it has so much meaning for us humans. It's a physical promise of your love.

 

And you craved just that, a ring that he could put on his hand when he was relaxing after a long weekend of work or around his neck while he trained and fought.

 

You wanted to marry Katsuki. And it pains you so much knowing that you couldn't.

 

Knowing that you two would be questioned all your life for the media, knowing that you would be just an obstacle in his path of becoming the number one hero.

 

Because who would want a queer hero?

 

You were grieving each day for the life you could never have. A life that only existed in your dreams.

 

And made a choice for both of you.

 

It wasn’t easy. You were shaking, every word cracking as it escaped your lips, and tears burned your eyes. But nothing hurt more than seeing Katsuki, who hadn’t cried during the war or even when he stared death in the face, now breaking down, his whole body trembling as you stole away the one thing that made him truly happy.

 

It was a mess. An argument full of tears, screams, and begging.

 

Bakugō asked you over and over, Why?

 

You never told him the truth.

 

Not once.

 

You loved Bakugō Katsuki, you wanted to marry him and be by his side. But above all, you wanted to see him accomplish his dreams.

 

So you could hold on to that ring box hidden on the back of your nightstand for the rest of your life, hold back tears, and deal with the burning ache in your chest because ...

 

He looked so much better with a medal around his neck than a ring.

I apologize for ruining your eyes.

405 words.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙰𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚒 - 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎!

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

Ft Cock-warming before a game; ft nipple play, allusions/references to cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, orgasm denial

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 1,629

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Includes Daddy kink, slightly Mean Dom!Daiki One(1) bite on the tiddy, no use of Y/n, 1st Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖎 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Mans just needs to get out some tension before the game, luckily for him, he’s got the perfect little stress reliever ;)

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

I felt every pair of eyes on me as I slid down on my boyfriend’s cock. More than that, I could feel every vein on his cock and every part of my insides it even grazed, my pussy so incredibly sensitive from the two orgasms Daiki already wrenched out of me, his lips still glistening a bit.

I seated myself fully and had to stiffen my muscles in restraint to not immediately start bouncing. The weight of Daiki’s tight grip on my waist reminded me of just why I had his cock fully sheathed inside me. I felt so full just from having his cock inside me, the weight of it feeling right.

“Fuck, babe..” He groaned out with a cocky smirk on his face. The look in his eye made my walls clench and flutter around him. To keep myself from collapsing, I rested on my hands behind me, placed on his thighs, and worked to catch my breath and in turn, calm my breathing.

“You look fuckin’ perfect, sitting on my cock like this, baby,” he muttered to me, his cocky look and attitude never wavering but I could hear the underlying sweetness of the praise that only I got to experience. His hands slid off my waist and reached under my shirt to pull it up over my tits. He immediately delved into my cleavage, licking and kissing at the flesh as he worked his way to my pebbled nipple.

I rolled my hips when his warm lips wrapped around my tit and Daiki practically growled around my nipple and clamped his large hands down on my hips and stopped my movements.

“Ah-ah-ah, baby. You know the rules. No moving until I say so.” I whimpered but nodded and clenched my thigh muscles to keep myself still.

“‘m sorry.. Daiki…” He chuckled at my strained voice and laved over my nipple again.

“S’okay, babygirl. Just be good for me now, ‘kay?” I held back the wanton moan that bubbled up in my throat at his husky tone that fanned his hot breath over my glistening wet tit. I was almost too distracted by my lover that I nearly missed the groans that sounded from behind me, from the rest of the boys. I had almost forgotten that the team was still there, that they were all watching us, watching me.

I chanced a look back and saw that a few of them had their cocks out, but most of them were simply invested in watching us. They still had sizable tents in their shorts but they paid no mind to themselves in favor of the show Daiki and I were giving. I leaned my body back against his bent knees and let my head fall back, breathy moans freely escaping my lips. At the small movement, my boyfriend groaned at the unintentional shifting of his cock inside me and nipped at my breast as a silent warning.

He kept a firm hand on my hip to ensure I stayed in place while his other hand slid up my torso to grab at my tit, squeezing the flesh in his big hand and pinching my nipple between his rough fingers. He pinched and pulled and twisted and tugged on the little bud, ripping high-pitched whines and moans out of my throat. I opened my eyes and met Wakamatsu’s eyes, though they were upside down from my perspective. His eyes were wide and invested, like watching us was for 75% of his grade, though he had pure interest shining in his gaze. He was obviously pitching a tent something fierce yet his eyes never strayed from my boyfriend and me and his hands stayed fisted in the material of his basketball shorts.

When our eyes met, his cock twitched and he bit his lip, almost like he was trying to restrain himself. A swell of pride bloomed in my chest and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me. ‘Note to self, talk to Daiki later. Got a great idea…’ Almost as if he knew I was distracted, even if only partially, my boyfriend growled against my tit and bit the flesh to leave a mark, laving his tongue over it to soothe the flesh afterwards. The rough treatment tore a cry from my lips and made my back arch into him, inadvertently shifting my hips on his cock.

“Fuck, baby… What happened to being a good girl for me, huh? First, you get distracted, then you’re moving against my cock even after you promised you’d stay still. Are you really so desperate for me to fuck you that you’ll disobey me?” My navy-haired lover growled at me, tensing his hand on my waist and grabbing my tit hard enough to use it as purchase to keep me still. I moaned lewdly at the tight grips, though I bit my bottom lip to silence myself before I got myself into more trouble.

“‘m sorry, Daddy! Didn’t mean to… ‘m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. I’ll be a good girl f’you!” I pleaded through needy whines and moans.

“Uh-uh. ‘s too late, baby. You were a bad girl. Y’know what bad girls get, doncha? Yea, you fuckin’ do, you naughty fuckin’ girl.” Even though his voice was rough and commanding with promises of punishment, he had a grin on his face. A grin that told me how much he was going to enjoy punishing me. I knew exactly what my punishment was.

“Nonononono, ‘m sorry! I’ll be a good girl, I promise! I promise! Please, fuck, please lemme cum, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplease-!” My words were cut off in a loud, whorish moan when his hand, that I hadn’t realized had left my boob, moved between my parted thighs and teased my clit roughly. My back tried to arch but his other arm had moved to pin my hips and lower abdomen down so that I couldn’t move at all against his cock. Moans and whines and cries that sounded straight out of a porno reverberated around the locker room and the boys watching us had gone still, completely enamored and enthralled at the sight of my punishment from Daiki.

“Yea? Does that fuckin’ feel good, babygirl? Huh? That feel good?” He spoke through his teeth in taunts that were just audible through my voice that could surely be heard even outside the heavy metal door. I could feel my orgasm building up quickly and I bit down hard on my wobbly lip as I knew what was next. His pace quickened on my clit and I choked out a sob when he suddenly pulled his hand away, tearing my high away from me right when I was about to fall over the edge.

“Oh, my poor baby, were you gonna cum? Huh? Were you right on the fuckin’ edge? Did daddy take away your orgasm when you were right there?” He cooed at me with false sympathy, his bottom lip jutted out dramatically. My chest shook as I sobbed from the pleasure and from the orgasm that he robbed me of.

“Please, Daddy…” I whimpered pathetically, though I forced myself to make no move of my hips, or at least the attempt to. My pussy walls spasmed around him, clenching and unclenching from the stimulation that still wracked through my body. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to push me over the edge. I knew that Daiki was the only one who could give me the orgasm that I craved, that I needed.

“I don’t think you deserve it, baby. You disobeyed me, remember. I let it slide once but you did it again. Maybe I was too lenient with you. Maybe I should be more strict, huh, baby?” He cooed at me once again, making me whimper. The sound seemed to adhere to him and coax out real sympathy rather than the act as he smoothed his hand over my thigh comfortingly, towards my cunt still stretched over his cock.

His thumb began gently circling my clit again, more gently this time and more deliberate. His other hand still stayed in place to pin my hips down but I could barely pay attention to that when he was finally giving the pleasure I ached for. His pace sped up as he went, rubbing my clit with vigor that sent me hurdling towards my release. I babbled out incoherent Thanks to him as my chest heaved with my heavy breaths. It all came crashing down with a sob being torn from my chest when he moved his hand away yet again, just before I could reach my end. My boyfriend smirked cockily at me and Tsk’d at me like a child being disciplined.

“Oh, baby, did you think I was gonna give you what you want that easy? You know me, I don’t give in just like that.” He purred, “You don’t get to cum. Not until I say so. And I say, you have to wait to get off until after the game. Maybe even until we get home. And don’t even think about trying to get yourself off. You got that, baby? No touching yourself while I’m playing, ‘kay?” His voice had a playful lilt to it but I knew he was entirely serious. If I didn’t listen then I was gonna be punished even more and I wouldn’t be able to get off at all that night. With fat tears rolling down my face, I nodded with a whimper.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. If you’re good then I’ll reward you tonight, alright? Just be the good girl I know you can be,” Rather than the false sympathy from before, he cooed at me with a true gentleness to encourage me, and my obedience.

“Yes, Daddy.”

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog @hellsingalucard18 @chosenimagines

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝗷𝗷𝗸 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 + 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀❞

a/n: i'm going insane guys anyway love u all mwah <333333 afab body but no gendered language btw!

part two.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ GOJO SATORU

▸ creampies. please just let this man cum inside of you omg he'll go insane. seeing the way his release leaks out of you afterward has him ready for another round almost immediately.

▸ dacryphilia. "you crying'?" says it all right there. he'll coo, a bit mocking, and wipe at the tears running down your cheeks.

▸ size difference. he's so big compared to you. his height, his hands, his dick. he gets off on it so hard seeing you have to look up at him :(

▸ praise (giving + receiving). he'll charm your panties off if you really want, just make sure to let him know how good he's fucking you, too.

▸ overstimulation. hand in hand with dacryphilia. he's not done with you until he's shooting blanks and you're a weeping mess below him.

▸ breeding. listen.. he needs an heir for the gojo clan. he'll fuck you into the mattress for hours on end- he just wants to make sure his baby takes, that's all.

▸ orgasm denial. he's a cocky man, and he knows it. he loves the exhilaration he gets controlling your orgasm, making you beg for it before he gives you any satisfaction.

▸ pussy/thigh/boob jobs. he wants to put good use to all of your body.

. *. ⋆ GETO SUGURU

▸ choking. the feeling of you swallowing as his large hands cusp at your neck is like a drug to him.

▸ begging. seeing you so compliant under him as you plead and cry for his touch... those pretty little eyes and wobbling lip. it's mean, he knows that. he just couldn't care less.

▸ sense deprivation. tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him all that power? he goes crazy for it.

▸ degradation. you wanna be fucked like a slut, he's gonna treat you like one.

▸ edging. when he's feeling really mean, he'll edge you for hours. until you're shaking and whining and the only word you can get out is a broken moan of his name.

▸ impact play. he loves waking up and seeing the red imprint of his hand on your ass oh my godddd don't get him started.

▸ hair pulling (receiving). he wants you to tug at his hair, card your fingers through it, pull it as you're riding his face!!!

▸ sadism. pretty much hand in hand with everything above. he's such a mean boyfriend but he knows how much you love it.

. *. ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

▸ biting. your shoulders, neck, and thighs are full of his teeth marks, almost perpetually. and of course he's not gonna complain if you leave a few bites, too.

▸ begging. show him how much you want him, how badly you need him, and he'll fuck you as much as you want. you just gotta put in a little work first.

▸ worship (giving + receiving). seriously this man worships the ground you walk on from the moment you wake up to the second you fall asleep. he just asks you worship his cock the same

▸ overstimulation. he's fuckin you until his legs are giving out from under him and you're nothing but a fucked out, drooling mess being pressed into the bed.

▸ blood play. i mean... i think this is a given.. will purposefully bite down too hard just to lick the blood clean as an apology.

▸ orgasm denial. he knows once you cum, it's over, and he just wants to stay sat in your pretty pussy a little bit longer- you understand that, right?

▸ somnophilia. his favorite breakfast is in between your thighs. besides, you don't think there's any better way to wake up, anyway.

▸ voyeurism. pleaseeee pleaseee pleaseee let him watch you masturbate it's all he needs in this world !!!!!

. *. ⋆ SUKUNA RYOMEN

▸ anal. he needs to claim every hole your body has to offer. plus true form sukuna is a slut for his double penetration just saying

▸ choking. hearing your choked gasps as he squeezes your throat could make him cum on the damn spot. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as each second passes on.

▸ exhibitionism. no, he doesn't care that there are other curses around and no, he doesn't care if they can see. you're his, and he'll fuck you anywhere he wants to.

▸ extreme bondage. watching your poor, writhing little human body tug at your restraints uselessly is something he'll never get tired of.

▸ collaring. he'll even get his name custom engraved, just so everyone who looks at you know exactly who you belong to.

▸ degradation. he's a mean thing, but you seem to enjoy that for some reason. he savors in the way you clench around him every time he calls you a whore.

▸ edging. you're not allowed to cum until he's says so, and anything before that? you're in for one hell of a night.

▸ predator/prey. let him chase you through the woods as foreplay. he'll inevitably catch up, of course, but seeing you attempt to get away is so cute to him. especially when he's had enough of the teasing and is pinning you against the nearest tree.

[tojisun]

i feel like simon loses it when you murmur, “like this?” every time you ride him.

it’s not even the first time that you’ve ridden him—and he sure as hell would make sure that it wouldn’t be the last—but there’s always something so sweet at the shy curl of your question, your watery eyes peering up at him like simon isn’t ravenous for every inch of you; your scent, your taste, your touch—he’s hungry for everything that you are.

so when you ask him—

like this? timid and achingly soft;

like this? heart stutteringly quiet and meek;

like this? overwhelmingly intoxicating—

simon buckles and wraps his arms around you because, “yeah,” simon replies, voice rumbling in a ragged rasp. “jus’ like that, love.”

his cock twitches, pulsing, and he has to bite down at the inside of his lip to stop himself from reaching his euphoria. it’s too soon, almost embarrassingly so, but he can’t help himself. it’s like your meek question is a trigger for him, unravelling his body until he feels like he is left as mere threads of his ecstasy, stroked to its tipping completion.

yeah, simon repeats to himself, his thick hands planted on the fat of your ass, squeezing greedily, before hoisting you up to feel the delicious press of your walls drag along his cock. it is such an enveloping warmth; all feverish and soft.

how could you even ask him anything like he isn’t being unmade?

you hiccup, breathy and hitching, as you curl close to him. simon chuckles.

“that’s right,” he says, fucking you back down his length. “s’good, huh?”

all he gets is that familiar thrum of your muffled hum, and simon coos because he knows he’s hit that threshold that renders you nonverbal.

see? such a sweetheart for him.

[whokilledsamara]

I loved ur alphabet nsfw with scarletella!!! BUTTT SPECIFICALLY the umbrella one!!! Is it possible to ummm maybe you'd write that whole situation down?? ANDDD I feel like he'd only do it if he's mad n being a lil petty!

MISUSE

a Mr. Scarletella x afab!reader fic. {an: ooo... i like this one.. i have a similar request and i will do both of them. love me some misuse of an object}

warnings! : misuse of an umbrella {handle is inserted, but you get poked with the tip}, bleeding, hatefucking, sadism, afab reader {i can write amab in another request if needed}, bondage, non/dub-con, "forced" blowjob

{an : i was super excited to write this one, as soon as i got the notification for this request i had to write it. thank you all for the support! this one could be considered non-con, but its really just hate fucking, reader doesnt say no. sorry this one isnt long, its just a quick thing im writing before i go to sleep}

hiding didn't work. you could hear the static in your head, matter of fact you could see it too. the cold, and slightly damp flooring made your senses all the more tingling, head a bit woozy from all the running. it was innocent really, the man who always happened to be crawling brought you a gift, and in return you gave him a small peck on the cheek. you hadn't thought anything of it, but you saw him. he saw you too.

bold move. he saw it as defiance. doesn't matter if it was innocent or not, he noticed. he notices everything even when you don't know he is there. the moment you saw red flash in the corner of your eye, you knew you fucked up.

why did you touch that stupid umbrella..

hours passed and nothing happened. you assumed everything was fine, and that perhaps Mr. Scarletella had just gotten his feelings hurt, not angry as you had assumed. but your hopes were cut short when you heard him, his voice filled with static and coldness as usual.

"Knees."

the way he said it in his language unwillingly did something to you, though you would never admit it. sighing to yourself, you obey his command and slowly sink to your knees. your gaze is locked on the floor as his eyes glare at you. though you aren't looking at him, you can feel it.

his presence alone makes the room feel thick and uncomfortable, but having his cock shoved down your throat definitely didn't make it any better. it was your fault really. you knew better than to attempt to get past him. his strong hand on your hair made sure you were kept up as high as you could go without actually leaving your knees, his thick length clouding your senses as you desperately tried to choke it down. tears welled in your eyes and all you could see was that sadistic grin that he almost always had on his face, though it was wider this time.

once he had his fill, and so did you, he yanked your head off of him, watching sadistically as you gasp for air. the dried tears on your face only made his heart rate speed up, that shit eating grin never leaving his face.

"You, remove, clothing." he says. not even as a question, but a statement. sputtering and coughing up his leftovers, you grudgingly slip off your bottoms, eyes closed and face flushed with embarrassment. his head tilts and he hums in response, crouching down in front of you.

your body is tense, and your eyes are squeezed tight with anticipation. his long, slender hand makes you shiver at the coldness as he parts your leg, putting you on display for him. a few seconds go by, and just as you are about to open your eyes, you feel a cold poke to your clit. its cold, and strange, making your eyes snap open to stare at the foreign object.

his umbrella.

you start stuttering and looking up at him with a worried expression, the tip of it pressed firmly against your clit. he experimentally moves it back and fourth, making your hips unwillingly jerk from the sensations. your face heats up and you watch carefully as he flips the object around, suddenly pressing the edge of the handle against your opening. "w-what the fuck.. what? that wont fit.. what are you do-" you begin to argue, but are quickly cut off as he pushes it in, using the curled part to his advantage and pushing it as deep as he can. you let out a shriek, thighs trembling and hands firmly planted on the damp ground beside you. he makes a few curious thrusts with it, seemingly getting off on the view, or maybe even feeling it himself.

"a-ah.. hurts.. mngh.." you manage to choke out, your voice a low whine as he twists the handle inside of you. he seems to notice a bit of blood around your opening, only exciting him further as he thrusts it faster. your legs lift slightly and you cry out, his hand shooting to cover your mouth as to not alert the other members. eyes clenched shut, he curves the handle just the perfect amount, that for some reason makes your vision go black for a second as you unwillingly orgasm around the foreign object.

pathetic noises leave your lips, his hand tightening around your lower face as his grin only grows wider. "Good." he mutters, slowly pulling the umbrella out of you. his hand leaves your face and before you can think properly he is pushing the handle into your mouth, effectively making you taste the mix of cum and blood off of it. "Clean." and so you do. you quickly suck off whatever you can, your face tired and worn. he pulls it out of your mouth and pats your head, before static surrounds him.

and hes gone.

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Wolf hybrid pack that was supposed to eat chubby bunny reader but instead take you in and use you as their little breeding toy.

They just kind of adore you, spoiling you with freshly picked fruits and vegetables, doting on their sweet little bunny as much as possible.

You want snuggles? They’re making a cuddle pile immediately, and you’re at the center. You’re hungry for something sweet? They’re ransacking the nearest village and bringing back every sugary item they can find.

They get into a lot of fights over who gets to breed you first once mating season comes around. You’re a bit afraid, seeing all these tall, needy wolves circling you like you’re a slab of meat.

It’s the first time they’re ever rough with you, pushing your soft body down and holding onto your hips as they rut into your fat pussy until you’re knotted over and over again.

Once they’ve all had a turn, they’re back to purring and cuddling into you, giving you little mating bites and cleaning you up.

You decide it’s worth it to get fucked out of your mind every once in a while if it means you’re treated like the pack’s princess. After all… it feels way too good being all full of cum and being bounced on one knot then another…

Being adored by an entire pack of wolf hybrids isn’t easy, but you’re a horny bunny, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

[slvttyplum]

i can't get the thought out of my head that suguru would be the best friend that you fuck while drunk.

you and suguru were the best friends that kissed and fucked when y’all got drunk and stopped having shame about it when waking up the next morning.

it’ll start off with playful tipsy dancing, grinding on him and giggling into his chest the next minute, then suguru kissing your neck, then the next series of events hazy upon waking up.

suguru hates to be that guy, the guy who only fucked you when drunk, but it just felt so good to him that even his subconscious mind knew that his dick wanted you.

calling you for drinks or to a hangout he got invited to so he wouldn’t be in bed with someone who wasn’t you, with you being completely fine with it.

drunk sex with suguru was the best; it wasn’t anything serious, yet he still hit and touched every sweet spot that you had.

that nasty sloppy sex that hit so hard that you wanted to get drunk every day of the week just for him to fuck you, because two glasses of whiskey was enough to get him started and last a long time.

sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your pussy, getting you right every single time, his eyes hazy with that look he got every time he was drowning in between your legs.

he loved it—the taste, the thrill, being inside of you and feeling how you squeezed around him from every little touch...

… it was amazing, and neither of you could deny that; that’s why y’all kept on doing it.

[deathc-re]

oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!

[uglygirltrying]

barbarian!ghost x princess!reader | pt2 to this

princess!reader whose new life, after the wedding, was as easy as it could possibly be. she just had to sit still and look pretty. most difficult part of her new life, was her new husband. he's a hard head. a piece of work, as she liked to think. as if he could be changed.

barbarian!ghost who liked his new wife. enjoyed her, even. she's pretty, sure. but she's a good girl too. and he liked that. he liked how he needed to protect her. keep her safe and warm. fed and happy. and, he'd gladly do just that.

princess!reader whose stuff was starting to make itself home. her clothes filled the dresser. her vanity table stood against the wall. fresh vase of roses on the nightstand every morning.

her smell stuck on the pillows.

barbarian!ghost who would only trust his most loyal men to guard her. the men he trusted, not to let his wife get hurt. not get touched. the men he trusted, to always know, whose wife the princess was.

barbarian!ghost who would probably never admit how much he was actually ready to do for her.

how many men he would kill at her word, before ever asking anything in return.

how many kingdoms he would take over, just for her to wear their riches.

and how much he would sacrifice, just for her to sleep in his arms every night.

taglist: @soapisdaddy

sorry that it's so short, and barely anything. i didn't feel inspired. but i still wanted to post at least something, because it was requested🙏 if i get inspired, I'll probably rewrite in another style, not this listing thing yk