#because there is no content on this at all

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Birthday to Fallen London; My favourite British people beefing it with bats simulator.

[satorhime]

୨୧ㅤִㅤׄ COUGH SYRUP ― GOJO SATORU.

satoru is a bit of an idiot who will do anything to get you to speak to him after an argument.

𓈒 ݁ ₊ content ﾉ fem reader, clingy satoru, established relationship, mild argument, fluff, not proofread, randomly started missing my boy :( <3

satoru can’t function when you’re upset with him. 

he knows he should be an adult about it — he is an adult, after all. he should give you space, let you simmer down. most people do not do things such as send one hundred and fifty text messages (he counted each of ‘em; you left him on read one hundred and fifty two times. who does that?) to your phone while you’re in the middle of grocery shopping and they most definitely do not take a sick day because their significant other is mad at them. 

 but then again, satoru isn’t like most people. 

which is why he’s currently sprawled out on the sofa in the middle of the day, wrapped in your favorite throw blanket — one that still smells faintly of your perfume. tissues litter the coffee table and floor around him, an unconvincing movie set of misery. call him manipulative, but it’s the only thing he’s got left in the tank since, for the last seventy-two hours, you haven’t spoken more than five words in a sentence to him. 

you’re his main source of enrichment, his brain stimulated by your sweet kisses and good loving so when you take that away, you’re stripping away his heart and soul. he’s got nothing left. he might as well die.  

in satoru’s brain, he figures that surely, if he’s coughing up a lung, you’ll feel bad for him and start talking to him again. in sickness and in health, right? 

by the time you walk through the front door after making a quick run to the supermarket for groceries, he’s in full performance mode, clutching his stomach with a groan. 

the sound is so realistic that you feel a sudden stab of worry, wondering if he’s injured. rushing into the living room, you find all six foot three of your boyfriend balled up on the sofa, looking like walking death. 

or trying to, anyway. 

“satoru?” you ask, eyebrows arching as you set your grocery bags down on the floor, taking out your phone and glancing at the time on the lockscreen. “why are you home? it’s eleven am.” 

“baby,” he groans pitfully, looking up at you. his glacier blue eyes are red rimmed and shimmering suspiciously — like he squeezed them shut repeatedly until he got the desired effect. satoru sniffles for good measure, huddling into the blanket. “i’m sick,” he announces, his lower lip wobbling, dragging out the last syllable like it physically hurts him to say it. 

“sick? you seemed fine when i left this morning,” you say, taking a step forward. you reach out a hand, pushing back his wintery locks to check for a fever. his skin feels normal, cool to touch even. your eyes narrow. you’re dubious — satoru never gets sick, yet it is his favorite act whenever he’s in the doghouse and wants attention. that, and he’s a terrible actor. you purse your lips, irritated. this is what he does instead of just apologizing? 

“i wasn’t fine emotionally,” satoru whines back. “i’m heartbroken here. it’s debilitating my health rapidly.” 

your expression doesn’t budge and satoru’s pout deepens when he realizes you’re not buying it. he clutches the blanket tighter around his big body, exaggerating a shiver for good measure. “you’re my life force, angel. my happiness. my —”

“stop it,” you interrupt and hold up a hand, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. you’re mad at him — you are. “but let me get this straight. you called out of work because i wasn’t talking to you?” 

“it was a medical emergency. do you have any idea what it’s like to go hours without hearing you voice?! without seeing you smile at me? you wouldn’t even let me use your body wash last night so we could share the same scent. i barely survived the night. any longer and i’d be a goner,” he sighs dramatically, then remembers he’s supposed to be on his last leg and hacks, phlegm rattling in his throat. 

“you’re obsessed,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to hold firm. but your damned heart has selective memory and it is making an appearance again, rapidly forgetting why you’re still mad at him. oh, you had a right to be upset over what he did, but it seems insignificant now when he’s in front of you, groveling like a servant at a throne. 

“angel, come on,” he presses, sitting up on the sofa and reaching for your hand, hurt flashing bright across his eyes when you step out of range. if you let him pull you down on that sofa with him, he’ll sweet talk his way into you forgiving him without consequences. he’ll do that anyway, but you won’t make it easy for him. “i’ll do anything to make it right.” 

“don’t angel me. you can’t just manipulate me into forgiving you with your big pretty eyes,” you wag your finger at him. “i bet you don’t even know what you did.” 

“i know, but it’s working, ain’t it?” he grins, shamelessly dropping the congested tone in his voice. “and i know what i did,” he scoffs. “you’re mad at me about that thing.” 

yes, that thing.

two nights ago, your body pillow — your very expensive, weighted body pillow which happened to have a giant render of your boyfriend on it, went missing. you’d commissioned it to have something to cuddle with on those nights when satoru is away on business and you miss him in your shared bed an unhealthy amount. you’d become a little too attached to it, though, while satoru wanted nothing more than to burn it. 

“he has a name,” you hiss, swatting satoru’s knee as you struggle not to laugh. “don’t call mr. comf-toru-ble a thing! he’s sensitive.” 

“see?” satoru says, scrubbing a hand over his handsome face before gesturing around wildly. “you even named it.” 

you give him a sharp look. “he cost me an entire paycheck— an entire paycheck that three days ago, you gave to the garbage collectors because i was cuddling him instead of you!” 

“i was feeling neglected!” he defends, voice pitching higher in his affront, placing a hand on his chest. “you spent the whole night with it. meanwhile, i— your husband— was right there, cold and alone. i can’t let me steal my wife.”

“we’re not married, satoru,” you remind him, then pout. “unlike my husband, the pillow doesn’t hog the covers, snore, or throw out things that i really like.” 

“it’s not hogging the covers, it’s redistribution of them for my comfort,” he grins playfully, but upon seeing your serious expression, he concedes, sobering up. in truth, he knows he messed up and went too far. it was childish to throw out something that you bought because of his frequent bouts of absence. maybe if he was around more, you wouldn’t need to cuddle with body pillows that look like him. “look, baby. i’m sorry. it was a moment of weakness. it’s not everyday i gotta be in competition with myself, but i’ll make it up to you! i even ordered you another one.” 

“a moment of jealousy, you mean,” you counter, but there’s no real bite behind your tone now.

“hey, you gotta see it from my perspective though. it’s kind of crazy seeing you cuddle with a pillow that looks like me when the real thing is right here,” satoru gestures down the long line of his body, though it looks more comical than inviting when he’s wrapped like a overstuffed burrito in your throw blanket.

“mm,” you nod, “well, maybe if the ‘real thing’ is a good boy, i’ll cuddle him more often.” 

“deal,” he answers immediately and when his muscular arms shoot out from behind the blanket and reach for you this time, you let him. his arms circle around your waist, pulling you into his lap. it was just a few days of silent treatment, but satoru wastes no time tucking his face against the dip of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent like you’re something precious and rare he lost ages ago and is just discovering again after eons. 

he’s squishing you, he knows it, but god he hates it when you’re mad at him — and you, in return, hate being at odds with him too. you both make too much sense to each other to be apart, and there’s upset in the balance of the world when the two of you are in an argument. 

“worst seventy-two hours of my life,” satoru blows out a breath of relief, the air tickling the hair at the nape of your neck, drawing a shiver down your spine. “never do that to me again, angel. you hear?” 

“don’t throw out my customized satoru merch again and i won’t, baby,” you coo, smiling. 

“you’ll still choose me over the other guy though, right?” 

“we’ll see, ‘toru, we’ll see,” you answer playfully, yelping when he darts in to nip at your ear in retaliation.

getting comfortable in satoru’s lap, you lean in to put the both of you out of your miseries and forgive him with a kiss when you get a whiff of menthol and childhood memories wafting from his chest.

 “are you wearing vaporub?”

[catchastarorten]

—You’ll be with me.

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x wife!fem!reader

Summary: being a previous winner of the games, the memories still haunted you. In-ho knew how bad it could get and he wanted you to feel safe, so he tried his best to give you comfort.

Warnings/content: fluff, comfort, temple kiss, a bit of angst, mentions of reader’s backstory as a player in the games, mentions of trauma, mentions of gunshot, blood, violence, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: 906

The air in the compound always felt thick, the silence lingered in the air. A quiet kind of weight that clung to the walls, the floors, even the people who roamed them. It had been years since you had been a participant in the games, years since you survived when so many hadn’t—where the memories of those days whispered in every corner. And yet, you were back here, year after year. You found yourself with him, In-ho.

You were a survivor. Years ago, you had stood on that blood-streaked ground, faced death at every turn, and somehow clawed your way out alive.

You hadn’t won because you were ruthless, but because life had refused to let you go. He oversaw your games, saw the way you fought but still left a piece of your heart filtered, still kept something kind. It was what drew In-ho to you in the aftermath of it all.

He was the Frontman, a man who wore a mask to the world and had barriers around his heart. But now with you. With you, he softened. He was unguarded, even. You had seen him beneath the cold exterior, you gave him gentleness and a sense of peace he didn’t know he needed, the kind that healed him in ways he didn’t know was possible.

But what you could never get used to was the feeling of knowing. Knowing that beyond these walls, people were fighting for their lives, as you once had. It lingered in the shadows of your mind, surfacing in flashes that made you sweat through the nights or turn cold at the sound of anything resembling a gunshot.

In-ho always noticed before you could hide it. He would find you, pull you into his arms, and remind you with his steady voice and warm embrace that you were safe now.

He understood in ways no one else could, because he too had been shaped by the games, though in a different way.

“You don’t have to watch,” he said to you the first time you expressed interest in sitting with him during one of the games. He was seated on the leather couch in front of the screen, the monitor displaying the players being led into one of the ‘playgrounds.’

His hand rested on the armrest, fingers curling slightly as if restraining himself from reaching for you. “It’s not something you need to see again.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve faced it before.”

In-ho looked at you then, his mask already set aside on the table. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the conflict in them—the worry, the love, the fear that he might be wrong to let you stay.

His expression softened further, and he reached out a hand to you. You took it, and he pulled you close, guiding you to sit beside him. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, his warmth enveloping you as if he could shield you from everything. “Are you sure?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. The screens flickered, showing the players, their expressions were hauntingly familiar—those wide eyes, the curious glances, the way they clung onto the hope that they might win the prize money to pay off their debts.

You sat close, knees brushing his as the game unfolded on the screen before you. It didn’t take long for the first shot to ring out. A player dropped to the ground, lifeless, and you felt it then—the cold rush of panic creeping up your spine.

Your fingers twitched, the memories clawing their way back into your mind. The sound of gunfire echoed in your ears, overlapping with screams you could still remember too vividly.

In-ho noticed, his hand was on yours in an instant, fingers firm but gentle as they wrapped around your trembling hand. “You don’t need to put yourself through this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

You didn’t say anything, but continued watching.

In-ho exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t let go of you either. His presence was steady, like an anchor keeping you from being swept away by the tide of your memories.

As the game progressed, the inevitable deaths began to unfold. You flinched at the sound of gunfire crackling through the speakers, at the way the players dropped one by one, their dreams snuffed out in an instant. Your breath came quicker, your chest tightening as if an iron band was wrapping around your ribs.

In-ho pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pressed you against his chest, his heartbeat steady and calm against your ear. “Breathe,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “It’s over now. Just breathe.”

You did as he said, focusing on the warmth of his body, the gentle pressure of his arm around you. The screen in front of you showed the survivors—those who had managed to stumble through the carnage—but you didn’t look at it anymore. You buried your face in In-ho’s chest, letting his scent and his touch ground you in the present.

He never made you feel like you had to be stronger than you were. And you knew he carried his own weight too—his role as the Frontman, the choices he had made—but he never let it interfere with his devotion to you.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

"the romances were bad" is kinda true, but I think it's MORE true to say that the game didn't distract enough from the fact that the romances didn't have a lot of content. I've seen plenty of games where the romances havent had a huge amount of special scenes or content; some of the BG3 romances comes to mind, as does DA2. However, I never feel that in those games that the lack of content is glaring because you are ROLEPLAYING and making loads of little decisions that are adding up to a full on character that's personal to YOU. One of my favourite Hawkes romanced Sebastian who has so little content, but I really ran with her character and got to make loads of in character decisions and that naturally spurned a lot of headcanons around the romance that I didn't feel the need to play out in game neccessarily. Hell, Solas kinda falls into this category. You're developing an angry character or a sad character or having fights with character and picking if you do. I think the reason people were disappointed with the Veilguard romances (more than just the fact they were hyped up and didn't live up to the inquisition standard) is that they're basically the only decision you get to make in this game until the very end, and it doesn't actually add a lot. So when people critique them I think it's less 'theyre bad' and more 'i got to make three decisions in this entire game and the romance was one of them and it didn't add much to my playthrough which is otherwise pretty mid and has few distinct ways I can build my character/make my character react to things'

[bbokicidal]

But What Do I Know? | SKZ [Virgin!OT8]

Just some odd headcanons I've got regarding Virgin!SKZ. Some things I think they're into, how they behave as virgins, etc. But again, what do I know?~

Members are grouped into categories for these headcanons.

Warnings: 18+ Content; Oral sex, fingering, spitting/spit mentioned, dry grinding/humping, cum, makeouts, biting

NSFW Masterlist | SFW Masterlist

Group Number One : The 'I swear I didn't know it would happen!' Boys [The Pants Cummers]

Virgin!Minho swears on his life - to himself, of course - that he WILL NOT come in his pants the first time the two of you have a heavy makeout session - but it happens anyways. And he realizes after that, that he kind of.. likes it? He learns if he grinds on you a little he also gets the friction from his jeans and that helps him come even faster. Forget being put down because he reaches his high in just a few minutes - he's trying to makeout with you as long as possible to see how many times he can come.

Virgin!Jisung is WILDLY embarrassed when it happens, until he realizes you never noticed. Even if he'd gotten all blubbery and started to whimper in nervousness, you'd though he was just enjoying himself and whining into your mouth because he was happy. But then he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and took nearly half an hour, his ears still beet red when he returned to you. You'd asked what happened and when he was honest, you reassured him it was fine that it happened - and that you thought it was kind of hot. Now, he lets it happen to please you because he knows you like it - which makes him love it even more.

Virgin!Jeongin isn't really sure what happened the first time. He was making out with you, you were on top of him - and then his thighs were trembling and you were sitting up in shock. As soon as he realizes he'd just nutted in his boxers, he's flushed in the neck and chest with embarrassment. How did that happen - WHY did that happen? He's all whiny and whispering about how he's so so sorry that he'd just done that with you on top of him. But when you shush him and whisper that it's okay while kissing his neck and tugging his collar down to mark him up, he'd begun to think maybe it wasn't that bad. And if you kept kissing him like that it was definitely going to happen again.

Group Number Two : The Masters with their Hands

Virgin!Chris doesn't really have full confidence in himself when he slips a hand in your panties for the first time, but he'd done as much research as he possibly could before his date with you earlier that night so he was sure he'd be fine. And his confidence only raised after you let your head tip back and moaned out his name. He'd let out a sigh as he pushed two fingers into your warmth, new to the feeling of being inside of you but enjoying it nonetheless. And your reactions, your whining of how much you loved his hands and how big his knuckles are, how good they feel on your walls - Yeah, he's a bit cocky after that and no longer worried about if he'll be able to please you.

Virgin!Hyunjin knows what he's doing in theory - not in practice. He did no research but it can't be that hard; and for him, it's not. It seems to come to him naturally (after you having to guide his thumb to where your clit actually is), with his middle and ring fingers pushing deep into your pussy until your thighs were quivering against his hips. He's a master at multitasking, able to rub your clit with his thumb and pump his fingers into you almost too quickly too well. And all while hovering above you, biting his lip and looking so good, too? Almost a bit mean of him to be this pretty and talented in bed.

Virgin!Seungmin really only is good at this because he plays games on PC. He's use to clicking the keys quickly, using multiple fingers at once - so you'd best bet he's good at fucking his fingers into you so quick it's got you nearly crying against the sheets. Also another who's good at multitasking - again, because of gaming - but it's with his other hand this time. And his mouth. He'll lean down to suck on your clit, fuck two or three fingers into you, and reach up to grope and tug at your chest with what feels like practiced (even though it's not) ease. Also mean in bed but.. in a different way. ;]

Group Number Three : The 'I can't help it' Boys [The Bed Humpers]

Virgin!Changbin swears that he didn't even realize he was grinding against the mattress while making out with you until he was making a mess on the sheets. Usually it's you he teases about your orgasm hitting early or the way your legs tremble in need when he sucks on your chest during heavier makeout sessions. But this time? This time it was him being teased, plump cheeks rosy pink and eyes darting over the sheets where pre had leaked from his tip and smeared on the mint of your bed. He's pouty, swearing up and down he didn't realize he had done that, before being welcomed back into your waiting arms with a shy smile. He waits until he has your reassurance that it's okay and it's nothing to be embarrassed about before he lets it happen again - and even blushes and gets shy when you ask him a few weeks later why he isn't humping the blankets while he sucks on your neck and chest. You think it's cute - and he's happy to please.

Virgin!Felix is.. kind of shameless about it. He's happy to let you know he's into you by touching and kissing and whatever - but he's a little too shy, and inexperienced, to even think about grinding on you. Your hips? His hips? Not connecting just yet. He's waaaay too shy to do anything like that. But he does want the friction, does crave the touch and grind of it all, so he'll go for the next best thing - laying between your legs while he kisses you all nice and slow in the early morning and rolling his hips down against the mattress. The feeling of his pajama pants rubbing on his cock is perfect, and the stiffness of the mattress... It's enough to satisfy him without getting too touchy with you just yet. And you seem to find it cute, too, that he humps the mattress all shy and sweet. If he notices you looking or watching he'll probably stop but any other time he's happy to keep going. Though there have been a few times he's gotten closer and humped your thigh instead. Not that you were complaining.

Group Number Four : The '*moans while neck deep in pussy*' Boys [The Messy Eaters]

Virgin!Hyunjin looooooves eating pussy. It's his favorite past time actually. Not busy? He's on his knees between your legs while you watch a show. Getting ready for sexy time? He's on his knees at the end of the bed waiting. Getting home from work? He's kissing you in the doorway and pinning you there so he can go down on you right away and relieve any stress. Honestly just a househusband with a nasty mouth who CANNOT keep his spit in it. It's like he's feral, almost. The type of guy who growls when you try to pull away or who bites at your thighs, nipping at your clit when you squirm too much. Again, so inexperienced that he's honestly not super great at eating you out - but does his best and is more than enough to please, at the cost of spit dripping down his chin and your thighs.

Virgin!Jisung. I've said it before, I'm saying it again!! Jisung likes to eat you out but really only when it's something casual and lazy. At first he was SO nervous because he was afraid he'd mess up or be bad at it - but then he realized, you're.. pretty chill about it all. You'll be on your phone and he'll be between your legs, sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue through your folds like you're the sweetest ice cream he's ever tasted. He's sweet when he eats you out and he's really careful about it, but he's.. drooling everywhere. Maybe even builds up the courage to spit on it if he thinks you're not paying attention, only to apologize and giggle when you flinch in surprise.

If y'all want a part two let me know - I have like 4-5 other groups already written in my notes lol.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[kurooh]

Heyy I love your works!! Can I get some praise kink works with husband! Kuroo, atsumu and ushijima ?? 🥹🥹

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE.. PRAISED ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou, & ushijima wakatoshi lovin’ on and praising their beautiful wife in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, one squirt, intimacy, praise, mirror sex, creampies, pet names, fluff, lingerie.

xoxo, juno: HI i hope u see this it’s been a few months 🥲 i loved writing atsumu’s he’s so cute

MIYA ATSUMU.

“haah, i fuckin’ love it when ya get dressed up like this, baby. ya always take such good care of me.” atsumu’s fingers smooth over the thin material of your lace thigh highs, his most favorite kind of lingerie to see you in. your soft legs are splayed out on either side of him as you bounce on his cock, squirming whenever his tip kisses your cervix.

he’s huge, easily stretching you out and filling you up just right. atsumu’s never been afraid to be vocal with you, but tonight he seems to be much louder than usual . .

a stream of curses falls from his lips like it’s nothing, and his nails dig into the skin of your hips, leaving indents shaped like crescent moons. “ngh, don’t—please don’t stop.”

“sensitive much?” you giggle, feeling a lot less tired now that he’s used your favorite word. in a heartbeat, you’re moving more deliberately, rolling your hips forward and nosing at the tender skin of his neck. with a moan, atsumu pulls you close and lolls his head over your shoulder, giving you any and all access. 

“jus’ a long day, angel,” he breathes out, clawing at your skin when you press open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck, occasionally nipping at the damp spots. “did ya know ya always make ‘em better?”

“mmm, you said the same thing about your salt baths,” you tease, lightly tracing the curve of his jaw with your tongue, pulling a groan of both pleasure and ire from the depths of his chest. 

“ugh, y’know what i mean,” he rolls his eyes even though you can’t see him, “i don’t look forward ta them like i do ta seein’ ya.”

“tsumu,” you say, borderline moan, and a shiver ripples through his body and makes his balls clench. “i was about to say the same thing, you keep reading my mind.”

you’re both on the same wavelength — which is why your pace quickens, much like his heart, without him having to say anything to you. gingerly, your fingers slip into the gold tufts of his hair and your nails lightly rake across his scalp. it’s when you pull hard that he lets out something between a whimper and a whine, teeth scraping over your shoulder as he searches for something to bite down on.

atsumu’s neck absorbs your own sounds of lewd delight as you ride him into oblivion, trying your hardest not to stop despite the burn in your thighs or the racing of your heart. you gasp sharply when his cock twitches deep inside your cunt and he grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he moans incoherently into your shoulder.

you pull him back by his hair and then into a kiss, your lips muffling his frantic gasps. whatever he said or tried to say is unimportant, because he ends up cumming abruptly, spilling white against your cervix. atsumu’s muscular back heaves as he struggles for breath, the entirety of his body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat that you can’t help but think about licking off.

“tsumu?” you ask gently, fingers lightly scrabbling at the nape of his neck, “you okay?”

he weakly hugs you closer, breathing heavily as he comes down from his high. “god, ‘m definitely gonna be dreamin’ about that,” for a moment, he pauses to kiss away the cooling spit on the slope of your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “jus’ wanna stay like this for a minute, angel. missed ya a lot today.”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“that’s my girl,” tetsurou coos, voice low and lustful, “swear you were made to take my cock just like this, sweetheart.”

clap, clap, clap. the crude smack of skin against skin grows louder, filling the room and inevitably pissing off the neighbors—tetsurou’s always loved to show off, and his most favorite ways to do so are by taking you to office gatherings or like this . . your wrists are bound together by his favorite silk tie for work and you’re sobbing out his name so loudly you’re drowning out the sounds of the bed.

you’re too cock drunk to even think about what flies past your lips. “o-of course i was, tetsu, ‘m all fuckin’ yours.”

he chuckles, bringing a hand down hard against your asscheek. your babbling is cute, but you’re burying yourself in the mussed sheets and making it difficult for him to hear you the way he expects to. that slap stings, and heat licks at the spot where his wedding band came down against your skin, but you don’t do anything other than arch your back and moan.

lithely, tetsurou leans forward over you and slips his hand beneath your chin, cupping your jaw as he lifts your head up and makes you look at the full length mirror that’s set in front of the bed. a dazed glance shows you the fucked out expression on your face and the makeup that’s smudged every which way.

“just look at you,” he chokes out, squeezing your hips as his dark eyes rake over you like he can’t get enough, “i love it—i fuckin’ love it when you’re archin’ like that, so damn pretty.”

tetsurou’s compliments are saccharine and raw whenever he’s inside you, full of filthy appreciativeness as your needy cunt sucks him deeper. he’s practically in your stomach now, taking the saying of ‘rearranging your guts’ almost too literally—it’s impossible to complain, especially when you’re too busy drooling while your eyes roll back in bliss.

“oh, fuck—t-tetsu, ‘m close,” the wet squelches of your pussy grow louder as he jackhammers his cock right into the soft, spongy spot inside of you that always reduces you to a mess without fail. his eyes lock onto you in the mirror as tremors roll through your body like surface waves, your face crumpling at the ecstasy licking at each and every one of your limbs. “ah, right there—oh, oh my goddd, ‘m gonna cum!”

in an instant, tetsurou snakes his hand over your shoulder and wraps his fingers around your neck, firmly pulling your body back against him. breathlessly, he groans into your ear and the sound only makes your heart pound harder, “wifey’s gonna cum all over me, huh?”

you nod frantically, arching against him as your short breaths shift into pitched gasps.

“let me feel you, honey,” warmth ghosts over the shell of your ear as his grip tightens just a fraction, “but i want those pretty eyes to stay open, ‘kay? watch yourself in the mirror like a good girl.”

so you do, even though your eyelids flutter a few times and an influx of tears blurs your vision. like a vice, your walls squeeze down on his cock as if they’re trying to milk him for everything he’s got—it almost works, but he drags in a harsh breath and barely holds it together. he’s got no other choice but to bite down hard on his lip when he feels you gushing waterfalls, soaking his skin with your delicious slick. but, tetsurou isn’t ready to give this up yet, not when he’s having this much fun watching the best porno that’s ever blessed his eyes.

you’re out of breath and entirely limp, voice cracking when you try to say his name. “hold—hold on, i need to sit down.”

an infuriating pout plays on his lips when you look into the mirror, and he takes the opportunity to diligently switch into an easier position where you’re sitting on top of his cock, thighs on either side of his hips. “better, baby?”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

“you didn’t have to, ah, do all that,” you gasp, voice breaking and eyes fluttering shut as the languid thrusts of his cock seem to reach your lungs, “‘toshi, how long were you planning everything?”

wakatoshi chuckles breathlessly, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours. soft, small bits of baby hair stick to his skin, but he’s too focused on you to pay it any mind. “sweetheart, that doesn’t matter. it’s our second anniversary, of course i’d go all out.”

your back arches off the bed, and your hardened nipples press into his own. he’s never been so fulfilled by anyone before—not by friends, or family. not like this. you’re his everything, his favorite part of the day and the person he’d choose over everyone else. in the background, the bed creaks faintly, barely audible over the smooth music that pours into the room from a small speaker. 

it looks like the most romantic scene in a movie, of course it does—wakatoshi’s still as in love with you as he was the first time you went out on a date together, all those years ago.

“i wish you could see how beautiful you look right now,” a warm whisper ghosts against your lips before he gives you a kiss, swallowing your answer and the soft moans that follow it. “mmm, my lovely wife. i’ve been waiting all day to touch you, darling.”

even this far into your relationship with him, your cheeks still get hot when those endearing petnames roll off his tongue—it’s intimate, a gesture that leaves no question about the fact that his heart is entirely yours. 

“toshi,” you whine, nails digging into his muscular shoulders, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, it’s—”

“i was about to say the same, honey,” he groans, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling your scent, “we’re not done, this time i want to—ngh, i want to put a baby in you.”

something delightful flashes behind olive green eyes, and he thinks of you, swollen all from carrying his child. he can’t help but picture walking around with you and everyone knowing that you’re his just from one glance. maybe it’s the baby fever talking or his well-known possessive streak, but wakatoshi’s lost in the fantasy of it all, abs clenching and hips faltering against your own as inescapable ecstasy licks at his limbs.

a sob of his name bursts out of you as you abruptly cum all over his cock, cunt sucking him deeper and gripping him like a vice. he grips your hips to keep you close, and you’re already on it, reading his mind with ease: your legs lock around his waist and draw him in, your own way of telling him you want the same thing he does.

wakatoshi spills inside you while you’re shaking, hot ribbons of cum gushing against your awaiting cervix. even as you thrash beneath him, he firmly holds you in place with his own weight and rocks his hips into you to push his load impossibly deeper. he murmurs sweet, sexy nothings into your ear and feels his eyes roll back when you thread your fingers through his hair. “sweetheart, you’re jus’ so damn perfect,” wakatoshi’s heart pounds even harder in his ears, “i need to—fuck, i have to fill you up again and again . . ”

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[comatosebunny09]

quixotic [ headcanon format ] | sylus

— summary: “i’ve never…hadsexbefore.” the words spill from your mouth, jumbled together like jigsaw pieces. regardless, sylus catches on, his expression morphing from surprise to fondness. “oh, sweetheart. where have you been?” — cw: female reader, virgin reader, sexual content, sylus implied to be older than canon, romantic dribble, terms of endearment, lowercase, language, mdni — notes: posting this here so that one, i stop obsessively editing it, and two, someone can bully me into finishing it. contributing to this fandom has become exhausting. also, i stole a line from fifty shades. sue me. as always, thank you so much for taking the time to read. — now playing: jade - monsune

your big brother’s wealthy best friend, sylus, makes love to you for the first time.

◦ it’s an adrenaline rush because no one, not even your brother, knows you two are an item—caleb would murder sylus if he knew his bestie was taking advantage of his little sis.

◦ one evening whilst you’re in sylus’ penthouse kissing, things get a little…intense. more than usual. more than the innocent pecks and fleeting touches you typically share. 

◦ he’s touching you more reverently this time. drawing you into a languid kiss, pouring his desire for you into your mouth in the form of hoarse, pleasured groans. he smoothes his hands over the ridges of your rib cage, kneads your hips, massages your thighs. handles you like glass. like he’ll never see you again. like he’s waited lifetimes to have you like this.

◦ it all feels so very wonderful, and sylus has been nothing short of a gentleman since he started courting you. but you can’t focus on the kiss anymore because you foresee this going somewhere you’ve never been. his arousal slowly awakening, prodding the inner cut of your thigh, doesn’t help matters. 

◦ you reluctantly push him away in the form of sweaty palms on broad shoulders, and he studies you, all smoldering eyes, peach-tinged cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips parted with the effort of panting.

◦ “what’s wrong?” he breathes, painting a hazy triangle between your eyes and mouth. worry hangs between his brows as he tucks some hair behind your ear, fingertips ghosting over your cheeks, jaw, neck.

◦ you chew your lip, averting your gaze from the intense, scarlet brew of his irises. the worn pad of his thumb skates over your chin, and he tilts your head back to coax you into looking his way. with his thumb, he tugs your lip free from the clench of your teeth, easing it over the sensitive, raw skin. the sensation sends jolts of electricity sparkling throughout your body.

◦ “don’t bite your lip,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your fevered skin. you have a feeling there’s more to his request than what’s presented at surface level. you nod slowly, your breaths intermingling whilst he ghosts his lips over yours. “talk to me. what’s the matter? did i misread things? push you too far?”

◦ “no, sy, it’s…you’re—you’re perfect, you’re fine, i just…i—fuck.”

◦ his thumb cruises over your chin, wordlessly encouraging you to continue, his arm draped around your waist, drawing you further into his lap until your chests push together.

◦ you resign yourself, releasing a weighted sigh. heat spikes through you, ending its excursion in your cheeks. “i’ve never…” you pause, swallowing as you fiddle with some errant strands of hair at his nape.

◦ “you’ve never—?”

◦ “i’ve never…hadsexbefore.” the words spill from your mouth, jumbled together like jigsaw pieces. regardless, sylus catches on, his expression morphing from surprise to fondness.

◦ he huffs a quiet laugh, cradling your cheek in his palm whilst he beholds you. “oh, sweetheart. where have you been?”

◦ something molten pools in your nether regions at that. his words, however harmless, sound like a challenge. and your body hums pleasantly with the prospect of giving yourself to the man of your dreams.

◦ he doesn’t take you that night, much to your disappointment. instead, he draws out the suspense over the span of a week, slowly killing you with anticipation. 

◦ every touch is purposeful. every steady glide of his fingers over your arm, every brush of his lips against your cheek. you’re rigged to explode when the weekend comes, drawn to wit’s end when he finally invites you out for dinner. 

◦ he’s a paragon of gentlemanliness. punctual when he picks you up from your apartment, holding the passenger door of his luxury car open for you to slip in, that devastatingly boyish smile slung over his lips. that natural charm is there, and if you weren’t already a stuttering mess of nerves, you would’ve been an amorphous blob by now. 

◦ he makes small talk throughout the car ride, occasionally brushing his knuckles over your plush thigh or ghosting his fingers over the hollow of your shoulder under the guise of sweeping your hair back. he just smiles when you cut your eyes to him, knowing full well his intentions are anything but pure.

◦ dinner is wonderful. romantic. a rooftop, highbrow restaurant devoid of people—he values his privacy, and you’re grateful because you’re not much for social settings yourself. 

◦ distant city lights twinkle like spilled bokeh behind him. powdery stars speckle the violet stratosphere overhead. you feel like you’re in a dream as a string quartet plays ambient music behind you, and the candlelight of the table’s centerpiece wavers, highlighting the sharp contours of sylus’ face. 

◦ he makes you feel so comfortable. so cherished as you toy with your necklace, tittering at his dry humor and silly anecdotes.

◦ the waitress ensures your champagne flute stays topped off, and your body hums from the magic of the night and the bubbly, your cheeks burning and aching from laughing so much. 

 ◦ sylus never misses an opportunity to feed you. gentle as he eases an hors d'oeuvre between your lips. 

◦ you swear you’re being innocent when your tongue darts out to lick some sauce from the pad of his thumb. he stiffens, lips parting, eyes sliding into a mysterious shade of garnet whilst he scrutinizes your naughty, naughty little mouth.

◦ he gives you a warning look, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. ‘behave,’ he mouths when the waiter returns, and he tilts his head in a way that bleeds sin, eyes quietly challenging you.

◦ you catch him staring at you several times during the main course. when your gazes interlock, he merely chuckles, returning his attention to his plate until he can next steal a glimpse of your pretty face. 

◦ dessert is sweet—raspberry pistachio tartlets drizzled with chocolate ganache that catches on the side of your mouth after sylus feeds one to you. you feign innocence with a shrug, your foot sliding between his legs, rubbing up and down a shin, wordlessly asking for some assistance. 

◦ he doesn’t miss a beat, reaching over the table to swipe the sauce from your cheek. his eyes shine with danger. something predatory as he licks the chocolate clean from his thumb, a bitten-off groan pinched from his throat. all to taunt you as you earlier tempted him. 

◦ you try to ignore how your thighs quake. how your heart works overtime, thrumming behind your ribcage, heat branching into your face. you concede with a sultry smile, and he sits back in an easy slouch, watching you with all the amusement of the world. 

◦ you leave the restaurant after he pays, arms linked, twin smiles donning your faces, and your airy laughter intertwines with his husky chuckling. 

◦ the ride back is tense, rife with your shaking tendons and shifting gaze.

◦ you’re swallowed by his coat in the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne enmeshed with his natural musk, turning your brain to smog. his hand swallows up the bulk of your thigh, searing through the frail material of your dress as it makes several expeditions up and down your quad. 

◦ the music drifting from the speakers does little to assuage your nerves. you watch the streetlights whizz by, your forehead propped against the crisp window. 

◦ you know what comes next—what you want to come next. but now, you’re more worried about underperforming for him than you are about losing your virginity. 

◦ he’s been the epitome of romance. patient, adoring, slowly unwinding the coils of your nerves. you want to repay him for his kindness. 

◦ “sweetie,” he summons, voice soft and disarming, mirroring his hand kneading your kneecap. “where did you run off to?”

◦ you smile sheepishly, glancing at him over the muted, blue glow of the center console. “nowhere.” you tangle your fingers with his in your lap, thumb tracing over the veins protruding in the back of his hand. “still here.”

◦ he spares you an unconvinced look before the iron-wrought gates of his complex slide into frame. 

◦ sylus doesn’t let you touch the door once he’s parked, rounding the car to open it for you. he tucks you into his side, virile arm draped about your waist whilst he ushers you towards the elevator. the parking garage is empty. soundless, contrasting the maelstrom taking place in your mind.

◦ he lends you one of his shirts once you’ve showered, swathed in the expensive mahogany scent of his body wash. the sleeves spill past your fingertips, the shirt’s hem brushing your knees. 

◦ he remarks how good you look in his clothes as he feeds one of the top buttons through its loop, fingers grazing your collarbone before his hand falls listlessly at his side. he’s helping you retain a modicum of modesty despite the ravenous simmer in his eyes as he takes your hand in his, drawing it to his lips to brand your knuckles with the searing glide of his lips.

◦ you spend what remains of the night on his sectional in the living room, your feet in his lap, the t.v. mindlessly flickering over your bodies. his hands are warm and reassuring as they knead through knots of tension in your ankles, the balls of your feet. you bite back a sound, wondering what else those hands are capable of. 

◦ you’re brought back to reality when he flicks your forehead, filling your vision with the scarlet wash of his irises, and a humored, sultry cant to his lips. “what are you thinking about, hmm?” he husks, hovering over you, bracketing your body with his hands on either side of your waist.

◦ you swallow, unconsciously sinking beneath the warm might of his body into the cushions. you curl your fingers around the rigid lines of his forearms, legs instinctively parting, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, fixing him with a harmless smolder. 

◦ sylus smirks, gaze softening. he picks up on your cue, slowly lowering himself until his hips are notched between your thighs. you exhale from the weight of him, fitting so perfectly between your legs like he’s always belonged there, his torso hard and defined as it presses up against your breasts. he leans down on his elbows, face panning in until his breath tickles your skin, and his ghosts his lips over yours, tempting you with the prospect of a kiss.

◦ “are you sure this is what you want?” he searches through your gaze, warring with himself. “are you sure i’m what you want?” the fragility in his voice makes your heart swell. always so considerate despite how his body radiates desire. you nod wordlessly, tangling your fingers in the delicate hairs at his nape. and you pitch yourself forward to conquer the space between your mouths, sealing any further words of protest in his throat. 

◦ he catches himself on his palms before he can barrel into you. but he lets you ravage his mouth, humming something low and appreciative betwixt your lips when your tongue finds his. 

[nayaesworld]

My favorite Dork

A/N: something short because this idea was stuck in my head for a complete week straight 😭..I hope yall enjoy🤭

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“You’re such a dork!”

“Mmcht..you said you liked it when I explained these things to you?” Terry turned and laid between your legs with his back turned to you as you stroked the short curls on his head. You loved listening to him blab to his heart's content about his favorite nerdy shows and topics. It made your coochie drip like a faucet when his sea green eyes lit up and that boyish grin found his face, it was so sexy and you had it all to yourself.

“I do, you're MY nerd. And if you said Eren Yeager had a right to let all those people die…I believe you bubby.” Terry had been hell bent on explaining Attack on Titans from beginning to end, making sure you understood every detail minor and large. He had a cute obsession with the show and the shelves in his room were lined with figurines, his closet had hoodies with his other favorite animes on them, and his watchlist on his tv was filled with new and old shows.

“All you gotta understand is that Eren is that nigga, and he was destined for this shit…end of story.” His voice elevated with excitement and his shirtless body was warm against your legs. You tapped his shoulder signaling him to lean up. Your sticky arousal was becoming uncomfortable in your panties and you needed to catch your breath to try and settle your horny thoughts.

“I need to go to the restroom bubby I’ll be right back.” You stood up from the bed pulling the pink sleep romper from between your heavy cheeks. A heavy smack on your right cheek had you spinning around quickly to face your best friend, a silly smirk on his mischievous face.

“I don't know why you walk around in this…why are you tempting me when you know you can’t handle this dick?” A tiny gasp left your mouth and your mouth sat open for a while thinking of a comeback.

“Me tempting you, Terry you tempt me often trust me…plus it’s not that I couldn’t handle it, you’re just so big. I’ve never tried to take anything that big before and I’ll admit I chickened out so what.” You rolled your chocolate eyes at him and crossed your arms. You were more than down for the dick at the time but seeing it and taking it was two complete different things.

“You know I had to jerk off to your panties that night…I was so horny that night when you left. And your panties were still so soaked I-I couldn’t let all that juice go to waste so I used it.” Your head was spinning at this point and you could barely stare him in his face after his confession.

His tall body sat on the edge of the bed, bulky arms reaching for her waist and pulling her into his open legs.

“Remember those FaceTime calls we used to do..I miss those, I wish we never stopped them.” You sighed and looked down at him. When the two of you were separate from each other masturbating on FaceTime was the go to…you’d get all wet and leak all over your bed from his deep velvet voice and moans.

“Terry I was in a relationship at the time, that’s why we stopped them… I thought he was a good guy and I didn’t want to risk what we were building.” He snorted at that and rubbed along the backside of her thighs.

“Yeah and that ended with me whooping his ass…y/n you’ll always have me I need you to understand that. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me to.”

“And I’ll always thank you for beating his ass, he was a dick and you protected me regardless of how you felt about our relationship..I love you bubby.” You leaned down to trail kisses across his face trailing them eagerly to his ear.

“When you nerd out and get all excited it makes me so wet. Do you know how many nights I had to go home and stuff my pussy because of you..and you were just so oblivious to it all, how I’d encourage you to keep talking.”

“All these years I’ve been sitting here yapping and you were turned on by it…you’re a tease you know that right?”

“It was my dirty little secret..it was innocent on your end but I was just being a freak. I wanna try something new, if you’re up for it.” His pretty green eyes held hers in a suspicious glare.

“What you trying to get into peaches?” Oh he was not playing fair.

“Oh now I’m peaches again, boy you are so sneaky. Now listen up..I’ve always had this fantasy I wanted to act out with you. I always wanted to jerk off a nerd and listen to him blab about his interests, I’ve wanted that nerd to be you for a long time.”

“You know you my peaches when you get nasty, and I’ll fulfill whatever fantasy you want…there’s lube in my top drawer.” You shook with excitement and bounded to his sleek black dresser to retrieve the bottle of pineapple flavored lube.

Your hands worked to unbutton the top of your romper. Double D titties bouncing as you positioned yourself on your knees in front of Terry to give him a perfect view of your plentiful breast. Your hands ran over his black netted basketball shorts, his heavy bulge making a tent in them. Eager to get your hands on the monster you motioned for him to pull them down just enough for you to work your magic. Your heavy breast kept him occupied as you squeezed a hefty amount of lube into your hands.

“Is there something new that you’ve been interested in bubby?” Your hands saturated his shaft in the flavored lube as you stared up at him expectantly.

His fingers twirled a taut nipple before he answered. “Mhmh…a show on Netflix based on a book I read. It-It’s about a mutant’s journey to protect his child surprise…fuck squeeze my tip. Yesss.” One hand sat firmly at his base, the other tightly wrapped around the leaking head.

“I like how you’re two different colors…prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. Keep talking, I wanna know more.” Lips now placing kisses lightly to the pulsing appendage.

“He tries to help her uncover her powers and hone them while building her trust…creating a bond with her. Fuckkk peaches hmm…suck it harder uh huh, now open wider let me fuck this throat.”

Mouth wide and tongue out, you welcomed nine inches of pineapple flavored dick down your throat. His toes ground into the carpet as he found his footing to serve mouth watering strokes to your mouth. Saliva dripped down your chin to your breast as his balls slapped your chin.

“I want this pussy next and I don’t want no excuses…shake your head yess.” your greedy hands tugged softly on his heavy sack and you shook your head up and down.

“If you can throat it you can take it right?” This time he nodded your head for you, too impatient to wait for your response.

“Y/N is scared of dick…but not peaches huh? Peaches takes dick she don’t run from it, ain't that right?” You were beyond turned on, freaked out, and now you were letting him hype you into taking nine inches of pulsating dick. No more running from the dick.

“If you nut before me you owe me a trip to Sephora…you better hold out big boy.”

Nerdy dick was the best dick…that point you couldn’t argue

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@becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @tvchi @blackerthings

[midnite-c6]

Listen… hear me out on a little squid games au

pink guard!namgyu and thanos who has a thing for the timid!reader.

i’m thinking a group game but no one picks you because they all believe you’re not strong enough and instead of killing you instead they bring you to one of their bedrooms…

THE WAY U COOKED WITH RHIS ASK OMGGGG them spoilin u bcuz they feel bad u didnt get chosen huhu NEED THAT! I SEE THE VISIONN

pink guard!thanos & pink guard!nam-gyu x reader imagine!!!🫶🏻

warnings: 18+ DARK content, dubcon (pleaseee read at ur own risk!!)

the way you were so quiet during the last game and during voting, how you were also one of the last players to get to the finish light in green light, red light, it was evident noone was gonna pick you in their team :( and you can't do anything but accept that fate, shamefully begging for someone to let you join, they'd all tell you their already full or even worse they need someone more stronger!

so when the timer is almost over in picking out groups and everyone's already grouped up, they'd see you in the corner with tears in your eyes begging how "please... somebody... pick me..!" with pleading eyes, and how everybody has already concluded your fate, you're fucked.

everybody watches as two guards escort you out of the room, with you're puffy red eyes, you cried out "i don't wanna die! pl-please, let me live, pleaseee!!"

the two guards take you to a small room, like a dorm, and they'd lay you down the bed. "don't worry, you won't be eliminated as it's unfair that you didn't get picked, you are allowed to skip this game until all the players have finished the game." one of the masked guards said in a monotone voice, they both had a triangle symbol on their masks. "wha... what?" the other guard sits down next to you, his hands carefully rubbing on your back as to comfort you, you'd tilt your head up to look at the standing guard, taking off his mask. he'd show blue eyes, purple-dyed hair, piercings on his ears, and a terribly handsome face. "you're the one killing people...?" he laughed at your shock, "shhh.. don't worry, angel, you're alive and well right now." he said with a sly smile. "what's your name player 54?, it's a shame nobody chose such a pretty girl like you.." you'd immediately say your name out of fear. noticing how the guard that was sitting next to you was getting extremelyy touchy. he'd also take off his mask, showing his slightly-long black hair and a more sharper face shape. "we'd choose you on our team anytime, let's have some fun while they do, huh?" you didn't know what he meant by "fun", and you sure as hell didn't know why these two considerably young men would be apart of this cruel game..

nsfw below!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡->

you were crying about how you weren't getting picked a few hours ago, now you were crying of overstimulation!! huhu, poor you, they'd lay you down on the bed comfortably, strip your clothes right off, and start to kiss and worship your body head to toe. the one with the slightly-long hair was pumping his middle and ring finger in and out of your cunny,, his tongue laps up and down your clit making you make sounds you'd never thought you'd ever make!! whilst the purple-haired male was taking his time marking your body, sucking and lightly nipping on both your nipples. he'd mumble against your skin, "you're so tasty.. let it all out, yeah?" as the other one slips in another finger. you were already so full with just his fingers!! you'd look down through your blurry eyes to see him, his mouth dripping in your cum and juices, "c..can't take it anymore.." he'd stop, "but why? maybe that's why people didn't choose you, you're too weak, even for this..." you know that wasn't true! you're stronger than that you swear! you wanted to prove him wrong... "that's it, knew you were obedient enough, you can take one more..." it was infact, not one more, and now you had to endure both of them overstimulating you to the max in pleasure!! why are the players playing in that stupid game six-legged race taking so long, anyway?! it already finished an hour ago, but they needed that extra treat (you!!).⁠♡

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.

[kkai-zen]

˖⋆࿐໋ dating the blue lock boys!

synopsis: what it feels like to date the bllk boys! + a drabble for each

featuring: [separate] gn!reader x itoshi rin, itoshi sae, seishiro nagi, mikage reo, ryusei shidou, michael kaiser

contents: fluff, implications of marriage (sae), tiny bit of possessiveness (kaiser)

wc: 1.3k

⟢ dating itoshi rin is...

wearing his jersey, forcing him to make tiktoks with you, quiet acts of love, waking up to his alarm, comfortable silence, losing your voice cheering, ice baths & epsom salt, clinging to his arm while watching horror movies, chilly wind, mumbling ‘i love you’

Of course Rin has an overseas match in Paris on Valentine’s Day weekend, you sighed to yourself (with an unfair amount of bitterness), sulking in a corner of a Valentine’s Day party that one of your friends was hosting. Nursing a drink, you unsuccessfully try to drag your attention away from the several couples who were sprawled out on the couches giggling to each other or throwing you pitiful stares every now and then. Scrolling mindlessly through instagram, then the weather app, then instagram again, you sigh and stand up, finalizing your decision to go home early and spare yourself any more suffering.

But before you can even start towards the exit, the door flies open with a bang!, and somehow, your boyfriend—who should still be in Paris at this hour—is standing, chest heaving with effort, in the doorway, holding a bouquet of roses. “How-wha- Rin?” you splutter, voice catching as he starts walking towards you with a certain urgency. “What are you doing he- mmpf!” Your words are cut off as he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, pressing a breathless kiss into your lips. Every pair of eyes are on the two of you by the time he pulls away, but all Rin does is murmur a simple, “I missed you,” into your ear before dragging you out the door. 

⟢ dating itoshi sae is...

an anklet with your initials engraved, beach vacations, flying you out to his games, morning yoga, paparazzi, a vulnerability only you get to see, the smell of the ocean and the sound of seagulls, meditation, writing your initials together in a heart in the sand

On Sae’s rare vacation days, he liked taking you to the beach. Not only does he get to see you in swimwear (because yes, he is a little bit of a perv), but something about watching the salty sea breeze brush through your hair as you walk along the shore next to him feels so natural, so right. Your presence, your laugh, your damned smile drives him downright crazy—so, so crazy because he never imagined he would be so in love with anything besides soccer.

You are absolutely radiant, glowing in the golden light of the sun as foamy ocean waves crash into your ankles. He swears he’s never seen anyone look so beautiful, and ends up silently resigning himself, with half a sigh and a smile, that he wants this to be his forever—you, glowing, smiling, tugging at his hand and pulling him along the edge of the sea. 

⟢ dating nagi seishiro is...

lazy nights at home, takeout, staying up late playing video games, ‘level complete!’ and ‘victory!’ screens, yawns, reading manga together, cuddling with plushies, napping while wrapped in layers of blankets with the fan on, matching video game skins

Watching Nagi’s fingers dance nimbly over the phone screen, you doze off, curling into his warmth. To be frank, you hadn’t expected dating Nagi to be as interesting as it turned out to be, but at some point you began to appreciate the many quiet hours you've spent together. Cuddling under piles of blankets and plushies, falling asleep watching him speed through the hundredth level of some new game he picked up earlier that day, and dropping by the closest bookstore to pick up new volumes of Bonobono, Nagi became the comforting, stable presence you never knew you needed.

“Hey, wake up already,” he mumbled into your ear. “I’m about to clear this level for you.” You stir, eyes fluttering open to squint at the screen of your phone. “Mm, thanks Sei,” you murmur, before turning to bury your face into his broad chest and promptly falling asleep again. He rolled his eyes jokingly, listening to your soft snores. “I could be grinding on my own account right now,” he grumbled. (But he still cleared the level for you anyways.) 

⟢ dating mikage reo is...

expensive dinners, private jets, custom flower arrangements every week, sports cars & leather seats, jealous looks, VIP tickets, ‘members only’ lounges, diamonds on velvet, city skylines, empty art museums, "wear something nice, i’ll pick you up at 8" texts

Reo, despite your hundreds of protests, never hesitated to spoil you. Designer bags, five-figure dresses, jewelry that could easily cover your rent for at least a couple months—Reo showered you in gifts. But more importantly, he showered you in never-ending love and support. Gentle reminders to take breaks from work, an open ear for your (many) rants, and one time, a surprise vacation, flying you both out to Greece for a weekend after a particularly hard set of exams.

Standing on the elegant, white stone balcony of the Greek villa he had flown you out to, you smiled as you felt a pair of warm, strong hands wrap around your waist. “Enjoying the view?” He asked, pulling you into his chest. “Would enjoy it more if you hadn’t dropped a fortune bringing us here,” you joke, leaning into him. Reo huffed out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolded playfully. “I’d drop a hundred more fortunes to spend this time here with you.” 

⟢ dating ryusei shidou is...

tongue piercings, late night clubbing, neon city lights, hands all over you, calls in the middle of the night, chokers, flooring the gas pedal, smudged eyeliner, skinny-dipping and streaking, kabedons, unhinged instagram reels, PDA, midnight motorcycle rides

The bass of the music blasting in the club reverberated throughout your whole body, clashing with the pounding of your heart. You were far too aware of the vibrant pink eyes and sharp-toothed smile following your every movement as your hips swayed to the beat, and you might’ve felt uneasy if the smirking, pink-eyed man watching you was any less handsome. Through some unknown connection to the Japanese soccer association, your friend managed to get you both into this exclusive club often frequented by famous soccer players—and so here you are, dancing with rising hotshot soccer players and drunk strangers.

Slipping off of the dance floor, you stumble down a dark hallway trying to find your phone right before ungracefully slamming face-first into what feels like a brick wall. Looking up, your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you’re met with sharp pink eyes and a Cheshire cat smile. “Hey, gorgeous,” he purrs, leaning down barely a couple centimeters from your face. “Gimme your number, will ya?”

⟢ dating michael kaiser is...

staining your fingertips blue, champagne on ice, december frost, feeling each others’ heartbeats, tracing tattoos, pricking your finger on a thorn, kissing bruises, psychology books, late night conversations, testing red eyeliner on the back of your hand, penthouse hotel rooms

“Just like that,” Kaiser hummed, observing your delicate motions as you carefully traced the corners of his eyes with his signature scarlet eyeliner. Sitting on his lap facing him, Kaiser’s gaze was solely and completely focused on you—not that he would’ve been able to focus on anything else, he muses to himself. Trailing his hands up and down your sides, he absorbed every detail of your expression, noting the way your eyes narrowed and your eyebrows worked themselves together as you concentrated.

“There! That should be it,” you announced, sounding satisfied as you stretched backwards. Kaiser shifted his gaze away from you and to the mirror for a brief moment, admiring your work, before sliding his hands around your waist and pulling you into his chest with one swift, smooth movement. You let out a tiny gasp as you and Kaiser press flush against each other, and he chuckles when a soft blush begins to march over your cheeks. “Mihya…” you mumble, looking down to avoid his electric gaze. You are absolutely adorable, Kaiser thinks, before grabbing your chin and tilting your face up towards his. “Look at me, meine Liebe,” [my love], he murmurs, relishing in the way your face flushes even more red. “You are mine.”

a/n: first post, hope you enjoyed :)

[technically-a-writer-technically]

On a fundamental level, I understand that this is a critique of using AI to make something out of nothing, literally writing the essay for you and not relying on the LLM being shoved down your throat by tech bros to enhance the work you would have produced anyway. Enhanced, in this case refering to meeting your esssy word count in 40 minutes.

But, I had some time, and...

Hard disagree, actually. This is just an inaccessible solution for many people and their contemporaries are going to use AI. The crazy thing for me is that AI has a valid use case for burnt-out college students trying to survive an academic environment that does not support them.

Genuinely, why struggle when you could just not? Like of course, the ethics of how and when you use AI is important, but as a general tool for outlining, topic generation, making information more digestible, it's not a bad tool.

The trick is to not over-rely on it, like genuinely you will struggle more than everyone that opted to use it, which could unfortunately be everyone in your class, and the only thing you'll have gained is... dignity? Maybe. Your professor does not care about that though. You walk away from from the experience wondering how everyone else is keeping up it with all the work and it's because you're punishing yourself by not utilizing the same tools as everyone else.

Literally, as someone who chose not to, please do not end up crying on Halloween in full costume because you couldn't digest a full novel and the extra 10-30 pg. readings, and write a specifically one-page paper in MLA formatting, which is not your degree standard, every week, while also reading another novel and doing research for your final project for that one class. Only for your professor to dock points for structure, formatting, citation errors, neglect to tell you that you didn't need the traditional introductory header on those papers, which would have given you more space for your specifically one-page papers, and the solution is to seek tutoring from one of your classmates during the free time you don't have because they write great essays and you are struggling with content, deadlines, the professor doesn't like your answers to the writing prompts in ways that you genuinely still don't understand.

Whatever, not every essay is a creative endeavor that you walk away from proud of, and that's okay. It's literally work, unpaid labor and, presuming you're American, you're going into debt for it, and not every professor is worth that stress.

Fuck AI art and fiction/fanfiction though, sorry, it's ugly as fuck and meaningless garbage. Do it yourself or perish trying. AI was supposed to free up time for us to do the things we love, not replace us in doing them.

chatgpt is the coward's way out. if you have a paper due in 40 minutes you should be chugging six energy drinks, blasting frantic circus music so loud you shatter an eardrum, and typing the most dogshit essay mankind has ever seen with your own carpel tunnel laden hands

[pshenyasstuff]

She stole my heart, my apologies. Seriously, this anime and manga were too good

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[cozylittleartblog]

"content creator" is a corporate word.

we are artists.