#don’t look at the leg anatomy too long >.<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[a-writing-otter]

Zu’zu starts to unpack—first the coat across the ground to make a spot to sit, then the bow beside where he himself will set, and then he gathers the weathered, well-loved violin and balances it on his shoulder.

It’s been so long, you almost forgot how beautiful he looks when he’s focused. There’s the draw of his eyebrows, the slight pout of lips that have haunted you for longer than you can remember, and the way his fingers tap anxiously, like he can’t wait to get started making music.

The first notes are as warm and sweet as the man himself and, for just a second, you think you’d give anything to stay beside him at all times.

He’s got his head tilted up slightly so he can speak freely as he plays a stray melody.

“Sorry for not coming sooner and sorry for the sky going red, you, well, you know how it is.” And you do, if not from your own experience of the Calamity and the saviors of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, specifically Louisioux, then from the countless, near-world-ending horrors that the man in front of you has faced and silenced, both in this world and others.

He goes on, talks about Garlemald and their new peace, Radz-at-Han and its beautiful architecture (“Run by a dragon, even. Made me miss this place even more, if I’m honest. I think it made Estinien feel at home to have yet another dragon there.”), Old Sharlayan and both its evils and wonders (“We met the twins’ parents, which I could go on for hours about the pair of them. Their mother, Ameliance, is a darling and, their father, Fourchenault, I was ready to launch through the Forum walls for the promise of a good beer, and you know I despise that swill. And again, the way he talked to the twins, I might have done it just to see the look on his face, but he’s become an ally, though I think it’s less begrudging than he pretends it is. Alphinaud and Alisae have to have gotten it from somewhere, haven’t they?”), and finally—

“We ventured back into the Thirteenth, you know?” He draws to a thoughtful pause in his music as his gaze turns far away. “I hadn’t been there since I’d been housed by your family, when I was spending my idle hours in the shadow of a coming war by running with Sky Pirates.” And he laughs, a warm, slightly distracted sound.

“I do often wonder how Leofard and the Redbills are doing. I haven’t heard much of them in times since, so I have to wonder if that’s good or bad.”

But he shakes his head and resumes playing again.

“We met a voidsent there, a half-voidsent, actually. Her name is Zero and she was, actually, Zenos’ partner of sorts. You do remember Zenos, don’t you?”

And you nod because, of course, you do. How could anyone forget him? He was a hallmark of the stories Zu’zu told for so long. To hear that he’s dead is almost as bizarre as to hear that he’d saved Zu’zu. Figures like that feel untouchable in a way that you never had considered demolishing until Zu’zu had come. When he’d told stories to you of Zenos and the impossible odds he faced to thwart him, you’d never doubted he’d come out on top when it mattered most.

If there’s anything you believe in this world, as tenuous as your grasp on it is, you believe in the Warrior of Light.

[celecorme]

lines are done :3

[loveanddeepdick]

cw: medical malpractice, piv sex, interpret this as a roleplay if u want, creampie, oral sex, implied anal at the end, NASTY PERV GETO

doctor!geto who asks you, his cute little girlfriend to help him “practice” anatomy. you knew in the back of your mind that was straight bullshit but you let him have his way.

“kay, go straight ahead, doctor”, you laughed, thinking he was joking

he was not joking

doctor!geto knows you love his black surgical gloves.

“lay down, angel, the hospital’s making me practice some new procedures and you have the perfect body to test on”

he runs his hands over your clothed body, ‘ just checking for any abnormalities’, he always claims. he lingers over your thighs, you stomach, your pretty tits, and you swear you almost see a smirk when he ‘checks for lumps’ on your throat. he wraps his long, slender fingers and pushes down a little on your esophagus.

doctor!geto who politely asks you to undress, marveling at your naked body on your shared bed.

“baby, is this really necessa—“

“shh, who’s the doctor?”

he pressed his stethoscope onto your chest, smiling as he hears your heartbeat increasing as he gets closer to your tits, your nipples growing hard from hitting the cold air. you roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something but before you could, the cold metal of the stethoscope rubs over your sensitive peak.

“oops.. sorry, angel”

“pervert.. you do this with all your patients?”

“nah, only my special one right here”, suguru responds, flicking your hardened nub, “‘think i gotta check a little further, hm?”

doctor!geto who has his lips wrapped around your left nipple, sucking and flicking like his life depended on it while his gloved hand tweaked the other.

“‘gotta make sure you don’t have cancer or some shit, angel”

“yeah- ah! right.. you just—fuck! you just wanna fuck me”

doctor!geto has you blushing, covering your face as he spread your legs slowly, biting his lip from smiling too hard as he slowly revealed your pussy as it dripped onto the bedsheets.

“so you are enjoying this”

“sh-shut up! you’re not even a gynecologist what are you looking there for..!”

he moves down the bed, bending over and spreading your pussy lips, delighted to see your little pink hole hidden underneath your lips, clenching and spurting out your slick. eyes trailing up a little, he eyes your clit, twitching from the neglect.

doctor!geto who’s eating you out, savoring your salty taste against his flat tongue, claiming it to check if your pussy is ‘healthy’. he looks up to your clenched eyebrows and eyes rolled back to the back of your head as he plunges his fingers into you.

“you wanna cum, don’t you, angel? you filthy slut, mocking me just minutes ago and now you’re switching up. you can’t even think straight and i’m only fucking you with these dirty gloves and my two fingers”

“pleaseee, sugu, make me cum!”

“sugu? i think you’re forgetting something”, he smirked, pulling out his fingers to give your clit a sharp smack

“please, doctor, please go back in my pussy, i need you”

“good fucking girl”

doctor!geto who has you spreading your legs for him, your hands covering your face from blushing so hard when you see him in full uniform.

“c’mon move those hands, pretty. need to see my patient if we’re gonna have a inspection, right?”

he spread your pussy lips again, smiling how wet you still were

“y’pussy’s fucking begging for it, baby. look how wet she is.. fuuuck yeah”

“please, doctor geto, put it in!”

doctor!geto who has you in a mating press, bullying his cock into you. at some point he’d stoped thrusting and moved onto just humping you shallow. his pink tip rubbing the right way in your g spot as his gloved thumb was rubbing circles onto your clit.

“f-fuck! best. fucking. patient.. ah, fuck, ever”

you couldn’t even respond to him. geto looked up at your face, grinning when he realized he fucked you stupid

doctor!geto who doesn’t even give you a minute to recover, giving hydrating you with water and flipping you back over again, slapping your ass and spreading it open.

“i think another hole of yours needs an inspection as well. don’t you think so too, angel?”

[moonstruckme]

would you write a part two to whimsy!reader totally knowing remus’ secret? i feel like r would be so sweet and casual about it that remus would cry

Thanks for requesting!

cw: post-moon werewolf Remus, mention of blood and wounds (no description)

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.4k words

The boys usually send you away this time of month. They try to be subtle about it, encouraging you to go visit your family or sleep over at a friend’s house, but you’re not one to let the full moon pass you by without notice. It didn’t take long for the pattern to reveal itself. 

Still, you don’t argue when James gifts you tickets for you and a friend to see a band you like out of town. You know they’re all most comfortable doing things the way they always have, and you worry that letting slip what you know would do more harm than good; Remus would be anxious and upset, and the other boys would only be doing more damage control than they’re used to with you around. So, you let the full moon pass you by without complaint. 

The next day, however, when you know James and Sirius will have gone to work and left Remus to rest and heal, you sneak into your apartment. 

The fact of Remus’ ailing is immediately obvious; the boys’ things are strewn all over the place, evidence of James’ and Sirius’ running about without Remus to pick up after them. There’s a pot of half-eaten stew that’s been left to cool and congeal on the stove, an abandoned roll of bandages on the coffee table, and the entire apartment smells like disinfectant and heartache. 

When you find Remus in the bedroom, your heart aches, too. He’s sleeping, but even in rest his face is pinched with discomfort, and there are several bandages visible above where the bedsheets rest halfway up his torso. It’s about what you expected, but it still makes your eyes burn. 

You try to let him sleep as long as possible, working with the environment first. You open a few windows to get out the smell and let in the new day, clean the common spaces, start your lavender incense burning in the bedroom. You’re brewing tea when Remus pads into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Oh.” He startles to see you. “You’re back.” 

You’re startled, too. “Hi, I’m sorry,” you say, hurrying over to the windows to shut them. “Did I wake you? Is it too cold in here?” 

“No.” Remus looks wary, watching you flit about the living room like he’s not sure he’s actually woken up. “It’s nice. When did you get home?” 

“Just this morning. I didn’t see the sense in staying another night, and anyway I wanted to be with you.” You make your way back around the room to him, taking his jaw gently in your hand. His skin is warm to the touch. “How are you feeling, lovely?” 

You feel more than see Remus’ face tighten. “I’m alright. How are you?” 

You let him go, giving him a small smile. “Better now that I’m back with you, thanks for asking.” You go back to the stove to stir your pot. “If you’re warm, you don’t need to keep that blanket on for me. I’ve already seen the bandages.” 

You hear his quiet intake of breath, and then a few moments later the sound of the blanket dropping to the floor. 

“Are you in the mood for some tea?” you ask without turning around. “If you want to get back in bed, I could bring it to you there. I don’t imagine standing is very kind to your legs right now.” 

You’ve been reading up on wolf versus human anatomy. If Remus’ transformations work the way you think they do, the bones in his heels and legs would have to either break or otherwise shorten and elongate to create the legs a wolf needs; you can’t imagine it’s a painless process, or that he’s not still feeling the effects of it now, so soon after the moon.

For a dense handful of moments, Remus lingers on the edge of the kitchen. But soon you hear his footsteps, heavier than usual in a way that makes your stomach hurt, go back towards the bedroom. You finish making his tea and bring it to him with a few pieces of his chocolate. 

He’s sitting up at the edge of the bed, propped up on pillows and watching the smoke curl up from your incense with a haunted look in his eyes. 

“Hi,” you say softly. He accepts the tea and chocolate with a quiet thanks. “Do you think it might help things if I opened the curtains? Some sunlight might be good for you.” 

Remus hums his assent. Everything becomes crisper once you let the light in. Remus’ dark circles and the blood visible through his bandages, but also the healthy flush to his cheeks and the strength of his body beneath the dressings. 

“What is this?” Remus asks you, sipping his tea. 

“Bay leaves. It’s for pain relief. It helps more if you put it directly on the wounds, but I didn’t think you’d want to mess with your dressings any more.” 

He nods. Sighs. “Come here, dove. Come sit.” 

You’re eager to comply. You round the bed to avoid crawling over him, settling against the pillows beside your boyfriend with your shoulder touching his. A support, if he needs it. 

“What’s the incense for?” he asks. 

“It’s lavender. It’s also good for pain, but I thought it might help you sleep as well.” 

Remus nods again. He turns to you, his eyes some mixture of distressed and resigned. “Why are you doing all of this?” he asks. “Why did you come home?” 

“Remus,” you say gently, “we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

His brows hook in the middle, a small crumbling. “But you know already.” 

You cradle his face in your hand. Your voice is soft. “Yeah.” 

You pull Remus towards your chest when he starts weeping. He dampens your shirt while you comb your fingers through the hair at his nape, saying nothing. Steam wafts up from his tea until it doesn’t, but that’s okay; you’ll make him another cup when he’s ready. 

James and Sirius are surprised to find you when they come home. 

“Angel—” 

“Shh.” You cover one of Remus’ ears with your hand, his head in your lap. “He’s hardly slept all day.” 

James lowers his voice, setting his bag down on the floor. “When did you get here?” 

“This morning.” 

“But you were supposed to be away until tomorrow afternoon.” Sirius climbs up onto the bed. His expression goes tender as he looks down upon Remus’ sleeping face, and the kiss he presses to your lips is gentle.

You card your hand through Remus’ hair. “I didn’t want to be away from him,” you admit softly. “I understand why you want to do things without me on the night it happens, but I’d like to help before and afterwards at least.” 

Sirius’ brow pinches, his eyes narrowing cautiously. 

“When what happens?” James asks you. 

You speak softly, not wanting the words to potentially agitate Remus in his sleep. “The transformation.” 

There’s a thick pause. 

“Who told you?” Sirius asks. 

“No one had to tell me.” 

There’s a quiet chuckle from the end of the bed. James kicks his shoes off, crawling up the covers to meet you. “I told you she knew.” He gives you a kiss, soft and syrupy sweet. “Thanks for looking after him for us, sweetheart.” 

Remus grunts, coming awake. “James,” he groans. “Your knee is on my leg.” 

“Oh. Sorry, love.” James moves, then bends down to give Remus a kiss of his own. “Did our angel take good care of you today?” 

“Better than this.” 

“That’s the moon talking,” Sirius says flippantly, though the hand he uses to rub Remus’ shoulder is exceedingly gentle. “That’s something you’ll learn as we go along, gorgeous. He loves us, really.” 

You feel your brows pinch. “I thought he was as nice as always today.” 

“Wonder why,” Remus mutters, but the look he gives Sirius is teasing. 

James gives Remus another kiss, standing. “I’ll get you some of your soup.” 

“Oh, I…” You give him a sheepish look. “I washed that down the sink. It got left out, the meat was bad. There’s tea on the stove that should help him heal faster, though, if you want to get some of that.” 

James and Sirius stare at you. 

“Seems like we should’ve brought you in on this a lot sooner,” Sirius says after a moment. 

You shrug. Remus mumbles something that sounds like agreement.

[permanentlyfemale]

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

[cowboykento]

giving or receiving head: jjk

characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro

warnings: MINORS DNI!!! more specifics are listed under each character. female anatomy described for all.

masterlist

gojo satoru

(cw: deep throating, facials, praise kink)

prefers receiving. for one, it allows him to continue running his mouth, and for another thing, he just thinks you look the absolute prettiest when you’re choking on his dick.

“oh, poor thing, can barely fit half of me in that little mouth of yours. don’t worry, i’ll help you out.”

and he does help you out. by wiping away your tears and holding your hair out of the way, as well as praising you the entire time. shit, he wouldn’t love it so much if you weren’t so damn good at it, so of course he’s gonna let his angel know how good they are. sure, he might be a little bit mean at times, but you’re never going to be sucking his cock and not hear how perfect you are for him.

“fuck, angel, y’feel so fucking perfect,” he just about whines, his head thrown back and bottom lip pinched between his teeth. “gonna cum soon, sweetheart, you’re so good for me, gonna make me cum…”

and as satisfying as it is for him to watch you swallow his load, he loves being able to cum all over your pretty face. lets you finish him off with your hand as long as he gets to see his cum all over your face.

geto suguru

prefers giving, but it’s a very close call. he loves to watch you struggle to take all of him in your mouth, but even more so he is obsessed with the faces and sounds you make when he’s using his tongue on you.

“don’t bite your lip, baby, want to hear every little sound i pull from you,” he husks from in between your legs, a thick hand on either thigh and chin dripping in your wetness.

just as good at using his fingers as he is with his mouth. and trust, he’ll use both any chance he can get to get you off. switches from fingering you + sucking your clit to pinching your clit + slurping up your juices. whatever he can do to make your mind and body absolutely electrified.

“look how messy you are for me, sweet thing,” he groans into your pussy, holding his soaked fingers up to your mouth for you to suck your own arousal off of them. “so good for me. yeah, baby, see how good you taste? could fucking live between your legs.”

and by messy, i mean he gets messy when he eats you out. he thrives off of making every time just the wettest, sloppiest head of your life. absolutely holds the back of your head to kiss you when he’s done, even though his tongue, nose, and chin are drenched.

nanami kento

(cw: pet name ‘princess’ used once.)

prefers giving and it is not close. nanami eats you out as much for his own pleasure as yours. takes his time making you fall apart on his tongue, treating you like you’re a gift given to him by god.

“gonna let me eat you out, angel? please? gonna make you feel so good you can’t say anything but my name, does that sound good?”

loves when you pull his hair, too. loves knowing that he’s making you feel so good that you can’t help but pull at his hair to try tethering yourself to earth.

will 100% be humping the bed—he’d jerk himself off if he wasn’t using his hands on you, but he’s much more intent on making you feel good than he is himself. sure, his dick is the hardest it’s ever been when he hears you moaning his name in the breathiest, most angelic tone, but he can’t even fathom touching himself until you’ve came at least twice.

“tell me how good i make you feel, sweetheart,” he moans against your pussy, tongue swirling your clit as you reach your peak. “that’s it, princess, there you go. let it all go for me, let me taste all of you.”

fushiguro toji

(cw: mean!toji a little bit, dacryphilia, ‘princess’ used)

prefers receiving, and he’s a little mean about it. of course he loves you, his sweet little thing, but he loves teasing you and maybe making you cry a little bit as he stuffs your mouth full of his cock.

“oh, look at you,” he teases as you struggle to fit him in your mouth, “such a pathetic little thing, can barely even fit all of me. we’re gonna have to work on that, won’t we, princess?”

and as mean as he is, he also really gets off on teaching you how to take him just the way he likes it. shows you exactly how to use your tongue and hands to make him feel the absolute most pleasure. he’s a little less mean as he’s teaching you, but only because you’re so eager to please him.

“that’s it, sweetheart, use your tongue right there, fuck,” he groans—you’re nothing if not a quick learner. “yeah, just like that angel. so desperate for me, aren’t ya? bet that little pussy is soaking right now, and all you’re doing is sucking dick. you like it that much?”

and he’s absolutely right, which is all the more humiliating. you go down further to suck his balls softly before he pulls you back by your hair so that he can cum down your throat. and of course you’re going to swallow it all, just like he taught you.

sorry i’m a slut ✊😞 jk hope you all enjoyed these pls reblog if you did. lmk if you want more of this bc TRUST i love writing these a ton. my requests + commissions are open :) minors/blank blogs that interact will be blocked!

[comatosebunny09]

first class | sylus

summary: sylus likes to play dangerous games. today, you happen to be his rook piece. warning(s): female anatomy described, explicit language, dirty talk, bodily fluids, exhibitionism, reader's attire is described, profanity, blue balls of the female persuasion, praise kink now playing: devil's advocate - the neighbourhood notes: something i threw in @muvaginger's inbox. i'm sorry for my mind. thank you for reading, lovebugs.

Sylus, but calling you when you’ve just gotten off work.

“Are you home?” he asks, all husky on the other end. He knows you aren’t if the telltale shadow cast by a crow circling overhead is anything to go by.

“Not yet.”

“Well, get there.” Amusement resides in his voice. You have half a mind to tell him off for bossing you around like that. Like you don’t secretly enjoy it.

“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your pocket. Put your helmet on, throwing your leg over your bike’s seat and settling on the cushion. Start it, the engine purring to life beneath you. After waving goodbye to Tara, you peel off, zipping through the energetic streets of Linkon towards your home.

Inside the lobby, your phone buzzes again. You roll your eyes, shoving your earpiece into your ear as you trudge through the lobby.

“What!” you grate out.

“Moving a little too slow there, kitten.”

If only you could punch him through the phone. You tamp down your anger, switching tactics. “What’s this about, anyway?”

He chuckles low and throaty, the sound of it prickling your brain. “Patience is a virtue.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.” Asshole, you add inwardly.

You catch the elevator to the floor where your apartment resides. Slide your key in, easing through the door into your entryway. Barely have time to set your keys down before a sharp rapping snaps your attention to the door.

“Open it,” Sylus orders.

Hesitant, you pivot towards it. Fingers twitch near your hip where your gun’s holstered. Slowly, you reach for the handle, mindful of your steps.

A soft laugh rings in your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s not an ambush. If I wanted to off you, I would’ve done so by now.”

“I never know with you,” you clip back, turning the doorknob.

After mentally counting to three, you throw the door open and peek outside. Silence and an empty hallway greet you. You glance left and right. Up and down the hall until a large, crimson box catches in your peripheral, seated on your doormat. You fetch it, admiring the black ribbon intricately wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” you query, kicking your door shut once you’re back inside.

“A gift.”

“Another one?”

His tone swims with nonchalance. “What can I say? I enjoy spoiling you rotten.”

You test the weight of the box. Shake it, hearing tissue paper and something heavy stir inside.

“Open it.”

You oblige. Tear the ribbon and top off, eyes curiously raking over the box’s contents. Inside is a long, black trench coat. Beneath that rests a long-sleeved, silk blouse. Deeper still lies a simple miniskirt, and you test its material between your fingers. It all looks and feels incredibly expensive despite its simplicity.

“Put it on,” Sylus instructs through the stillness.  

“What? Why?”

“Because you have a train to catch in—” A brief pause. “One hour.”

“What the fuck? A train? An hour? Sylus—”

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

The phone clicks with his exit.

You throw the clothes onto your couch, scrutinizing them over folded arms, chewing your lip. It’s 50 degrees out. Where the hell does he think you’re going dressed like this? Does he plan to use you as bait or something?

Your phone buzzes again on your coffee table. You fetch it to see a QR code for a train ticket sitting in your inbox.

“Shit,” you hiss, scrambling for your bathroom to shower. He’s serious. There really is no time to spare.

He’d better have a good reason for being so cryptic.

—

“The second to last car,” he husks in your ear. “Meet me there in five.”

Your lips contort into a scowl. You rip your earpiece out, wending through the train’s other passengers to pursue your goal.

In the corners of your vision, the scenery outside the windows eases by. Greenery nestled beneath the snow, somewhere remote. It’s beautiful. You take time to admire the sights before finding your way to the second to last car.

The door slides shut behind you. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rumble of the train upon the tracks. The passengers here are sparse. It’s a luxury cabin, decked with armchairs, faux plants, and an expensive carpet.

You survey the area, spotting an unmistakable thatch of white nestled in the rear seat. Try to mask your giddiness as you make your way towards the back. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen him.

Wordlessly, he motions to the seat across from him when you venture to his side, wearing that customary smirk. You plop down, folding your arms. Bite back a smile of your own, favoring a frown.

“What’s this all about?”

Sylus leans back in an easy slouch, and the way he manspreads makes your mouth water. He peers down at you from his nose, draping a long arm over the headrest of his seat. His turtleneck and coat do little to disguise the power of his body. The tendons in his neck dance. Jaw flexes. He motions to your lap with a flick of his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Your eyes grow comically wide. “Excuse me?!” you hiss, mindful of your volume. Look around to ensure no one’s the wiser to your conversation. No hello. No I’ve missed you. No preamble whatsoever.

His smug look doesn’t waver. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” There’s an underlying edge to his voice. One that doesn’t leave room for argument. Still, you contest him.

“Sylus, there are people here!”

That enraged whisper thing you do—it’s endearing.

Sylus’ eyes darken with something sinister. He hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you sat down. Hasn’t stopped raking his eyes over your honeysuckle thighs, your hips.

“They can watch,” he drawls with an innocent shrug.

“Sylus!”

“Sweetie, I’m not asking.” Though he bears an expression of amusement, you can tell he means business. Consequences typically follow when you don’t heed him. Delicious consequences.

You swallow thickly. Sylus’ silhouette blurs as you survey the car over his shoulder. There are at least three other passengers here, all seated near the door you came through. More than enough distance between you. Your lover bleeds back into focus, his brow raised in challenge.

With a weighted sigh, you shift to make yourself more comfortable. Loosen the tie of your coat, drawing it open whilst easing your hips forward. Hesitantly spread your legs, feeling Sylus’ optics tuned to your every move. Something hot and sticky has already begun to gather in your panties, and your nipples tighten beneath the frail silk of your blouse.  

He cutely cocks his head to the side when you hesitate. Eyes narrow. “What’s wrong, sweetie,” he croons all low. You feel it coiling in your stomach. “Scared?”

You cut your eyes to him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Of course you are. You’ve never done anything like this. He’s introduced you to all kinds of things. Uncovered fantasies lurking deep in your mind. Discovered all the erogenous zones on your body you never knew you housed, but—

Exhibitionism is new. Dangerous. And somehow, the thought of it makes you wetter.

“Go on,” he soothes. Encourages, irises dipping into a mysterious shade of garnet.

Your body moves of its own volition, spellbound. Thighs part a little more, hands smoothing over plump flesh. You sigh out, leaning back as you drag your nails over the inner curve of your thighs, bunching your skirt up towards your hips. A little more enthusiastic now, teasing your swollen outer labia with the knuckles of your thumbs.

Sylus’ mouth parts slightly. His gaze flickers downward, entranced by the show and the soft hitch of your breath. He looks back into your eyes, clicking his tongue in discovery. Reaches out a sizable hand, leaning towards you with his elbows digging into the pockets of his knees.

“Panties. Take them off.”

Your tummy sparkles with heat. He quirks a brow. He’s serious. It’s not enough to touch yourself like this in public. He wants you bare and exposed, staining the armchair with your heat.

Without a word, you shimmy out of your underwear. Thin and frill as they slide down your calves, over your ankles to pool at your feet. You compliantly deposit them into his hand. A bitten-off growl brews in his chest. He falls back against his seat, stuffing your panties into his coat’s inner pocket for safekeeping. Signals for you to keep going, fully invested in this game.

You repeat the process from before. And it’s a new sensation now, the crisp air of the train car kissing your sticky pussy. You try to think of other things. Try to distract yourself from the smolder of his gaze and how it makes your body hum and your mind fill with smoke.

You think about his fingers instead of yours, stroking down the slit of your pussy. His fingers rubbing at the hood of your clitoris, drawing it back to stroke your pretty, swollen clit. His thumbs sliding over your nipples, causing your back to arch, his tongue laving at the space behind your ear…

Your hips stutter. You stifle a moan. Sylus slides in and out of focus, your vision fogging around the corners. He chuckles amorously, shifting in his seat. “Don’t stop,” he nurtures, eyes burning like a feverish flame. His dick sits heavy in his slacks, slowly hardening and twitching.

You salivate. Knowing that he’s enjoying this as much as you gradually are—fuck. You bite your lip, propping your leg on the chair’s arm. Spread nice and wide for him, your pussy on full display.

You rut against your fingers, your face screwed up in rapture. Legs quiver each time the pads of your fingers bump your messy clit. You construct a rhythm that’s maddeningly slow and torturous. Feel that sparkling rush lazily pooling between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Wanna be filled and stuffed to the brim with cum.

His cum.

A glimpse at Sylus reveals something that makes you throb. He’s touching himself. Humping into the palm of his hand, hot and weighted through the thick layers of his clothes. Fuck. You pulse.

“Syl,” you sob quietly, wetly, wantonly. “Syl, please—”

“Use your fingers,” he breathes all ragged. “Inside.” Angles his head back until it thumps against the headrest. Doesn’t look away, still rucking his hips up into the heel of his palm like the slow undulation of a wave.

You indulge, circling the pucker of your pussy with your fingers. Steadily work one inside, and you sigh, tossing your head back. Caress your tits with your free hand, plucking your nipples to their peaks as you drive your finger in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds you make as you torture yourself causes your walls to clench down.

Sylus’ voice crackles, pouring through the fizzy haze that’s settled over you.

“One more. You can take one more, can’t you, sweetie?”

You moan at how his voice oozes like warm milk and honey. You’re obedient, gradually adding another, pumping in and out. A thick ring of cream collects around your knuckles. It’s still not enough. Never enough.

“That’s my girl,” he lauds, relief in his timbre. “So good for me. So, so good.”

“Sylus,” you sob, fucking yourself a little faster. Wish it were him instead, filling you up and pumping you with the briny edge of his cum. There’s a warm fluid trickling down your leg. Heat spooling in your tummy.

He greedily ingests the sight of you fucking yourself, groaning hoarsely. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, so close to losing yourself to an orgasm. And you would—

If not for the sound of footfalls nearing your position.

“Shit!” you hiss, snapping your legs shut. Work your skirt into some semblance of neatness, throwing your coat over your legs. Your cheeks and neck are aflame, pulse pounding in your throat, pussy throbbing.

You don’t make eye contact as the gentleman passes, too busy looking at your fingers in your lap. He’s none the wiser to the goings on in your section—or, at least, he acts like he isn’t—as he bows with a small smile, slipping through the door behind. Sylus tracks his every move, and if looks could kill…

Your heart thrums heavily in your ears. You caution a glance at your boyfriend, taking in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest. He’d thrown his coat over his lap to disguise the monster pressing against the seam of his trousers.

You lock eyes. His lips pull into a scowl as he sits up, pitching himself forward. Cants his head to one side, voice abrasive and low.

“Did I tell you to close your fucking legs?”

A thrill racks through you. It’s rare that he curses, only sullying his tongue when he’s upset or too far gone. It turns your stomach to a primordial ooze. Without warning, Sylus gathers himself up, snatching your wrist along with him.

You stumble like a baby fawn to your feet, gazing into those eyes that dwindle like liquid spilled over burning coals.

“We aren’t done here, sweetheart,” he promises with a tense jaw. Tugs you from your seat and down the aisle, all the while fishing for something in his pocket. A quick glance reveals a barcode, and a number printed in bold letters on a bit of plastic. A keycard. The sneaky little…

He peers at you over his shoulder as you both maneuver through the throng of passengers in the remaining cars, back towards the front. Your features warm with a smile. Legs tingle.

You weren’t aware that this train had sleeper cars, but you’re grateful to know it does. Your body buzzes with the prospect of what’s to come. He’s not done with you, indeed.  

hair down | masterlist | nuisance

[goxjo]

Do you think Sukuna would have Vessel!Reader look at themselves in the mirror as he touches them? Just make them watch him touch themselves as a sort of payback when they make him do nothing but watch them? btw I still fucking love your fics!

he absolutely would, this is golden <3 and thank you, I’m glad you love them!!!! ;; I also wrote a little sukuna x vessel! reader + mirror kink drab here if you would like to read <333 it’s one where reader and kuna are on more agreeable terms lol

++ this is late, I know. please accept this filth as an apology!

RYOMEN SUKUNA X VESSEL! READER

+ warnings. no pronouns, f anatomy! reader, hard dubcon, demon possession (it’s kuna), body horror, dom / sub themes if you squint, fearplay if you squint, ‘enchain’ binding vow has different terms, mirrors, cunnilingus uwu, v! fingering, squirting on his ‘mouth’, ~600 words, 18+ only, MDNI

♥︎ based off of no secrets,

You had to tease him. Had to parade your little pussy like meat to a dog, watch yourself through the floor length mirror whilst lying down on your bed with a leg propped up as you spread out your folds. You did this knowing all he could do was watch. And watch. And watch as you played with yourself silly.

One moment was all he needed. He waited for you to slip — waited for when you’re at your absolute weakest to the point of exhaustion for when he decides to give you a taste of your own medicine.

“Enchain.”

To others, his voice is enough to send shivers down their spine; but to a vessel, his voice is akin to the bellow of a beast that stops you dead in your tracks, that moment when you know you’re done for. His words reverberate throughout your body, freezing cold the first few seconds, knocking the breath out of your lungs, panic spreading like wildfire through your veins, pumping sulfur to your heart instead of blood. And then, everything goes black.

”Wake up, you. I need you to bear witness to what I’ll do to your body.”

You know those black lines decorating your body all too well. You want to inspect them but all you can do is watch and feel. Through the mirror, you see you but not quite you. It’s the never-ending cycle of taking charge and then losing your hold of the reins. One minute you’re in control, the next you’re not. And once again, you’re a bystander in your own body.

“My god that voice still churns my stomach to this day,” you answer back, somewhat grateful for the ability to at least speak while he has hold of you.

Sukuna lets out a huff, black fingernails tracing every curve and swell of your chest like it’s something he hasn’t done before. He looks at your reflection as if he hasn’t eaten in a long time, and in front of him is the world’s finest delicacy served on a silver platter, all for him to devour.

“My, such bile for someone who’s dying for these fingernails to scratch their walls.” He pinches a nipple, feeling you wince at the touch. “So sensitive.” He chuckles, amusement in his laughter over finding you on the receiving end of this torture. “I can feel your need gnawing at the bars, desperately looking for relief.”

“Sukuna, don’t you dare — don’t — mm — ohh!” Your moan finishes your sentence for you. He scratches stripes along your wet slit, preventing you from threatening him any further. And you want to tell him to fuck off, to stop, “stop, s-stop…” Stop making you feel so good, stop playing with your clit like that, stop making you wet, stop making you moan, don’t, don’t stop making you hot, don’t stop, hurry up and make you cum, “don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop — Ohhh~!”

He hits the best spots, creaming you better than your own self-operated fingers ever could.

“‘Don’t’ what?”

“Don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. You feel his devious smile prickle the hairs on your nape as if he’s standing behind you.

“Pray for it.”

“Pleaaaase, Sukuna,” you whine.

He kneads your clenching hole with his open palm until a wet muscle comes out of it.

“Ffuuuck!” you cry out, his tongue flicks at your throbbing clit, teeth grazing your puffy lips before nipping your sensitive bud. Two digits enter your hole, pumping you crazy with his tongue still latched on your clit, using his hand (your hand) as your own makeshift sex toy. You want to throw your head back, roll your eyes, arch your body but he makes you stare at your own reflection, stare at your intense need to come undone.

“Haaaa, don’t stop Sukuna, don’t stop, Su — Suku—” Your pussy clamps twice shooting out warm fluid soaking your hand — cumming in his mouth.

“Next time you tease me, something else is coming out of this hand.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

��Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

[genacity]

DAY TWO. PRINCESS TREATMENT

ft. rengoku kyojurou — kimetsu no yaiba (鬼滅の刃)

when a clueless hashira wanders into your layer of operations, you can’t help but put up a fight— and admire his fat tits through the inconvenient tear in his uniform you inflict.

ruling. nsfw — mature content

content warnings. demon! reader, masochist? rengoku, feminization, body worship, praise, nipple play, impact play, reader refers to rengoku using feminine nicknames / anatomy (girl, princess, pussy, tits)

an. meow i was so excited to write for rengoku. i love beefy men being treated like bimbos! woohooo!

kinktober 2023 masterlist

“slow down, pretty girl. stop squirming so much.”

“mm— haah! please stop teasing me!”

the man in your lap writhed at your touch. careful hands gliding down his chest, drawing circles around his nipples as he thrashed between your legs.

how’d you even get here? you don’t remember. well, you do. but you aren’t focused on remembering. not when the flame hashira is at your disposal. burning, sticky skin and sweet-sounding whimpers from his lips a stunning combination of reactions to your touch.

you’re a demon under kibutsuji. one of the latest recruits to the twelve kizuki. being an upper rank is tiring. always lounging about in the manor you’ve made for yourself, waiting to get this damned job over with and kill those little brats they called the demon corps.

but this one… this one may be spared.

rengoku kyojurou, that’s what his name is — the thundering flame hashira that it seems the whole of japan has been talking about.

and he’s wandered straight into your lair, ready to slay you.

yes, that’s what he had planned — until while during your fight, your claws tore a less than convenient rip in his uniform. straight through the chest to reveal the space between his muscular pecs that you just had to stop and stare at.

and now you’re here. the hashira sat between your legs as you toyed with his chest and body.

hey, you couldn’t help it; not when his tits — pecs — were practically begging to be touched and fucked. and he was, too. not like he denied it at all. you may be a demon, but that definitely did not take away from your temptation. and looks.

“relax, baby. you’re stressing too much.” you cooed to the whining rengoku as you pinched his nipple between your fingers. he jolted, shaking his head as your free hand held his hands behind his back.

you sighed and looked at his swollen nipple between your pointer and thumb fingers. “look at you,” you feigned a pout. “your tits are all red. is that what you wanted, flame hashira? to make your big tits all red and sore?”

“they are not — tits.” rengoku whimpered, his voice lowering to almost a whisper at his last word. “what was that?” you asked into his ear, pulling at his sore nipple and letting it go, watching it bounce back as he let out a long wail.

rengoku’s hips bucked up as you fondled his pecs, tracing round his right bud with your sharp, manicured claws. “i — i can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he whined. “a demon using and teasing my body.”

“oh, how shameful.” you chuckled and flicked his sore nipple, making him jump. you switched hands to hold his wrists, off to pay more attention to his neglected side as you immediately began to knead his left breast. “a demon having their way with you. how will you explain to your beloved corp that you’ve come back sore with no victory?”

rengoku went silent. pressing his raw lips together to muffle his grunts and whines. dissatisfied by his lack of response, you pinched his left nipple and leaned in to whisper into his neck. “answer me, flame hashira.”

his lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath from the tip of his tongue. you began to grow increasingly agitated by his silence, and so you took it upon yourself to force the answer from him.

you rose your hand and brought it down onto his chest with some force. the hashira flinched in your hold; whining out as the sting along his chest and sore nipple left him squirming. “are you going to answer me?” you snarled just beneath his ear, breathing against rengoku’s neck and making him shiver.

“i — i don’t know.” he stammered and swallowed harshly. you laughed at his response and shook your head. “aw. pretty girl can’t think. i can’t imagine what your co-workers will think of you when you return.”

rengoku couldn’t imagine it either. he was afraid, honestly; unknowing of what his fellow hashira will think of him if he admitted to returning to them with no victory, all for a few moments of pleasure. but at that point, he didn’t care. it felt too good to give up. never had he felt this way before.

all of his thoughts immediately dissipated once he felt your cold hands pinch at his hot nipples once more. rengoku yelped, not noticing you had let his wrists go and was now using both of your hands to knead his chest.

“ah! please…” he sniffled, watching your hands press his chest muscles together and trace his burning buds with your freezing fingertips “your hands… they’re so cold.”

kyojurou felt his cock strain against his pants. the sight of you toying with his pecs made his mind go numb. at that point, he was melting into you. nodding mindlessly whenever you commented something about his fat tits or his hard nipples. the way he reacted to you was addictive.

a few more times did you strike rengoku’s chest; making him wail and writhe more in your arms. whenever he seemed too lost in watching you press his breasts together while you were asking a question would you remind him with a sharp smack straight onto his flaming nipple. then he would recoil and slowly answer your question — too invested on how red and sore his chest was growing. but he loved the burning feeling.

“can’t imagine how wet you must be for me, flame hashira.” you purred. “your pussy is probably drenched. it must be, considering how you’re reacting to just me touching your boobs.” and you laughed, lips twitching up into a grin.

“d-don’t — haah… don’t say those things.” rengoku whimpered, squirming in your hold as one of your hands massaged his right breast while the other began to trail down his body. fingers ghosting over the evident bulge in his pants as he panted and gasped for air. the hashira felt his cock twitch pathetically in his pants as you laughed.

your sly smile grew with each mewl rengoku let slip. “aw, is my girl embarrassed. don’t wanna admit how wet ‘n excited i got you, princess?” you purred into the shell of his ear as he trembled. “i’m not… wet.” he grumbled, and you just had to laugh again.

“show me then.” you insisted. your hands trailed down to his belt as your fingers slowly began to undo it. “show me you’re not leaking from my touch.” the flame hashira swallowed thickly as you leaned in to murmur to him.

“don’t be shy, princess. show me all of you.”

[bluelinen]

My Camboy

Pairing: Cam boy!Choso x AFAB!Reader Content/Warnings: smut, masturbation, no penetration, female anatomy, no use of y/n, porn no plot, well.. very little plot at the end

MDNI

Ting~*

You've always had this guilty pleasure for as long as you could remember. Since your very first time stumbling across that incredibly risqué audio.

You loved noises. Loved hearing the hoarse animalistic groans of pleasure as one grasped desperately for a release, strings of uncouth words and phrases dripping from a yearning mouth.

The carnal coarseness of such a voice, uncontrolled, unrestrained. It's what's led you down a path such as this, where that ting that notifies you of when his stream begins is the one thing you look forward to almost every week.

You don't see his face on stream, if you did you wouldn’t know what you’d do. It’d probably scare you shitless.

Not that he’s an ugly guy or anything. Quite the opposite really, you found the view of his face quite pleasant to look at every morning you saw him in your shared apartment.

See that was the thing. He’s your roommate.

Which meant that if you were brave enough or, you suppose, just plain crazy you could open the door from across your own and fully witness the complete uncensored revelry of Choso’s bare chest as his fingers brush across the button which makes your screen as well as your eyes light up.

A flurry of messages roll through the side bar proclaiming their greetings. A bunch of ‘hey's’, ‘hi’s’, ‘omg you’re so fine’s’. Even a few small gifts.

Yours was the largest of them, you made sure of that.

The bottom half of his face quirks up in a small smile as he whispers into the camera, his voice deep and airy. “It’s so nice to see all of you here..”

He reaches a hand up into his hair, out of sight from the camera, and a set of snaps from elastic releases his raven locks from the signature spiky style they usually were in, strands languishing comfortably along his shoulders. “I really hope that all of you have had a nice day today..”

He starts trailing a hand from his neck slowly down his broad chest. “Cause it’s been such a long.. long day for me y’know.”

“My muscles feel so tense..” His voice is a hypnotizing lull. “Tired too. I've been needing to find a way, a good way, to sooth this dulling ache.”

You yourself smile knowingly towards your screen.

He smiles back. “I’m sure you could help me with that though, couldn’t you?”

“Tell me you’ve had such a long tiring day too.. “ His sultry voice murmurs as his fingers inch down further towards his waist, his touch achingly slow, seamless as silk.

A spry fleet of comments surge in answer.

“The day is so hard isn’t it? So demanding..” He palms a growing bulge covered by the thin fabric of the shorts he’s wearing.

“We deserve a good release, don’t we?”

He fingers the edge of his waistband.

The chime of several gifts being given causes him to smile.

“Mm.. that’s what i like to hear.”

A low hum leaves his throat as he continues his faithful touch along his crotch and you watch with anticipation, waiting for the very moment he's decided, as you have already, that enough is enough.

It only takes a few minutes before he reaches his waning limit, a soft moan and quick snap of the waistband reveals the honest erection. Large and familiar it stands from it’s restraints proudly, clear substance already glistening from the sore crimson tip.

Choso smears the clear liquid along the head of his cock like a lubricant and you wonder how there's already so much, a small somewhat delusional part of you desperately wants to think that it's from the thought of you.

He begins moving his long fingers along his length, gentle smooth strokes coaxing a light train of moans to leave his lips. Each lithe sound causing an increasing tension to form between your legs.

“Ah.. i really wish you were here to help me with this..” He says to the camera, his voice light as he steadily increases his pace. “Fuck.”

He slides his fist from base to tip to base— and back again, low strained little whimpers following every stroke of his hardened cock sending a burning feeling of arousal to your core, little sparks of lightning dancing along the surface of your sodden clit. It’s only a matter of seconds before your hand reaches down to sooth your own aches, the onslaught of sounds desperately attracting one to the other like some burning magnet.

Sliding the pad of your finger along the soaking slit, building up your pace slowly, softly as you try to match the increasing intensity of his touch with your fingers upon your own wet cunt.

“Can you.. Mm.. Can you see how hard I am for you?” He groans as he suddenly stops to display the veiny painfully hard erection. He sits back lounging in his desk chair and it throbs and jerks impressively, engorged at the tip, almost pleading for release. Each involuntary jerk sends a flutter through your core and with a finger on your clit you pause, desperately wishing for him to continue so that you could also.

“I need.. ugh.. I need you- fuck.” He whimpers gingerly, smiling into the camera.

A dastardly scheme of course, but one you fall for every time. A click of the button with your free hand sends the swift notification across the screen notifying him of your donation as well as the donations of many many others, giving up your hard earned coins just for the man to continue stroking his hardon. It’s an awful cycle. But it's one you seemingly can’t stop. Audios, videos, they just didn’t cut it anymore, not in the same way.

Maybe it was the interactiveness, the control.

It was something magical about the way his cock twitches and how his veiny painted hands do something sinful about it while he whines and moans into the mic. You felt like you’d honestly sell your very soul just to see to it that the red rosy tip on your screen chases its unrelenting release every single time.

It allowed for you to do the same. And it felt so good, so damn good every single time.

Barely a minute and the flow of gifts had his fingers find firm fit around his shaft again, continuing the erotic train of degenerate touch. “Aah you always come through..” A chain of hitched sighs. “I Mm.. always know I can count on you.”

His pace only becomes faster and so does yours, his lovely voice, groans and ruts pulling you closer and closer to your peak as he chases his.

“Fuck i’m close.." He moans. "so so close.”

You can tell. The way his sweet lips part and quiver, wisping breath letting out those saccharine sounds.

The sticky head of his twitching cock ready to spill rich fluid.

It made your tongue swipe across your bottom lip in anticipation.

“Mm yeah.. I know you love this, you love.. ah.. you love watching this.” He releases a sequence of pitiful little haggard breaths. “You close? You about to c-cum? fuck.”

You sync every last stroke along your clit with his on his dick. Sharing every lewd moan and sigh, it’s just you and him in this dark little room.

A string of ineligible words fall from his sweet lips as he continues.

“Let’s cum together, ‘k-kay?”

You were getting there, a sheen of sweat forming across your damp forehead. You wanted to release, to come undone but not without him. You wanted.. no needed to hear him before you finished, it made the end all the more divine.

“Come on..” Your lips mutter softly under your breath. “Come on..”

“Oh God- oh fuck-”

He exclaims with a jerk of his hips before he comes undone with a final forceful tug, a delicious cry, thick milky spurts of cum wastefully flowing from the tip and pooling onto his thigh.

A dear part of you wishes you were actually there to put it to some good use.

Your brows pinch, nose scrunching as you let out a final moan. The good shivers running through you in great waves through your orgasm. You smile towards your screen, rush of honey swelling in your chest.

As you look down at your own mess, clear pearly liquid languishly dripping from the tips of your fingers you think.

Oh..

'this is becoming a bit of a problem, isn't it?’

*-*-*

Your teeth clink against cool glass as you promptly gulp down cold liquid, the crisp clear swill of the water that slips down your throat revitalises your body, clearing your mind.

A clear mind, god you needed that.

The glass is soon emptied and you rush to the sink for another one, you’re twisting the tap open when you hear the familiar footsteps of your roommate walk into the kitchen with a mumble.

You turn your head to find the man approaching you and you blank, panicking a little. It wasn't usually you found yourself face to face with the man you had just fucked yourself to a few minutes ago. It wasn't exactly the best scenario to find yourself in.

Fuck.

It was only a moment ago that Choso sent his goodbyes to the chat and it looks it with the light pink hue roaming the warm skin of his cheeks, the relaxed haze over his lazily lidded eyes. He looks so dazed.

Despite your dismay at his sudden appearance you can't help but appreciate the expression so honest on his face. The one thing about his streams was that you'd never witness the aftermath of those escapades, truly it was a shame.

He looks so fine after being fucked out.

Choso strolls into the kitchen with the cover of his usual cool look of indifference but you were very well aware of the many other expressions he was capable of making. From the nose down anyway. The sounds he was capable of making. It makes you have to stop from audibly swallowing as you hurriedly look away. You were going crazy.

Your breath catches when he comes ever closer, leaning towards you, dishevelled black mane of hair brushing forward as he does. You swallow. Do you look suspicious? Does he suspect anything?

You feel a rush of water overflowing from the forgotten glass, drip dropping along your fingers and into the kitchen sink, almost jumping as his arm reaches out— and passes you to reach the empty glass on the countertop behind you.

He narrows his eyes slightly at your flinching. “Something wrong?”

"No!" You exclaim immediately before realising you've overreacted a little.

You gave a false little cough before repeating the word. "No. I'm good." A little suave this time.

"Good?" He raises a brow.

"Yeah-yeah." You insist as you hurriedly turn off the tap. Taking your glass and swigging a sequence of urgent gulps. "Just a little jumpy today."

"Right.." Choso looks a little unsure but chooses not to press further as you cleared way for him to get to the sink.

As the water pours into his glass he suddenly remembers something and is about to say whatever that something is to you before you make like a magic trick and disappear into thin air, retreating immediately to your room before you can make a further fool of yourself.

Curling up into a ball upon your many blankets and hugging your favourite pillow underneath your chin you thrash around in your shame for a while before sighing and burying your head into the pillow.

God one day.

One day you really were gonna get caught.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: First post here rawr👹 genuinely think i'm tweaking, hope y'all enjoyed it though ^^

Art drawn by @//Umbra3terna on tumblr & edited by me :33

[izvmimi]

cw: smut, minors dni. brat!reader. angry sex that turns soft. not really infidelity but a little targeted flirting on the part of reader. female anatomy for reader. f! receiving oral. penetrative sex.

“You’re getting way too good at getting on my damn nerves.”

The door to your hotel room is barely closed by the time he starts his tirade, but neither of the Itoshi brothers are particularly known for having any type of manners, and the current state of affairs is that you’ve successfully pissed Rin off the entire night. It doesn’t help that Rin’s kind of a crybaby, and his beautiful eyelashes line red-rimmed eyes right now; in fact his whole face is red from embarrassment, and as you kick your high heels off, he’s glaring at you with aggravation, hands balled into fists.

“So?” you ask flippantly, turning to him with a flourish in your satin, form-fitting dress that seems to practically mock him. You don’t intend to spin that joyfully but it works for you tremendously. After all, Rin takes himself far too seriously and it’s your God-given task to cut him down to size. Flirting with his brother - well, barely so - has worked wonders for you. Rin is now so hot he’s practically ripping his shirt off at the collar as he tries to loosen it, and you plop onto the king sized bed in practical glee. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve provoked him like this and it works every time.

You don’t have to do much. Just a few heavy lidded glances in Sae’s direction, a little too much interest in whatever the asshole has to say, letting your eyes linger on his drink then on the curve of his lips for a little too long, shrugging when Sae disrespectfully asks you, right in front of his brother, if you’re willing to spend time with an actual athlete before declining.

There will be a point in time where Sae’s advances towards you result in his face drenched in sweetened alcohol, but for now, when Rin’s waffling about how much you mean to him despite being desperate for your attention, keeping you on his arm for event after event, you don’t have to be his ride-or-die.

But you can ride him. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to prove but if you keep fucking playing with me, you’re going to end up biting off more than you can chew.”

He’s a lot of talk and a lot of energy as he tears off your panties, but he’s the one with his face shoved into your folds just moments later, sliding his tongue up and over and along every part of you, lapping up your cream like milk, drinking up your squeals and moans like sweet ambrosia. His arms are practically wrapped around your lower half, dragging your hips up to his face as he sucks and swallows, spitting on your clit the lesser half out of disgust, the greater half out of sheer desire. Face still covered in your slick, and practically drooling, he takes your lips in his mouth again and kisses fervently, pulling your leg around his waist as he descends on you.

“Stop acknowledging him,” Rin hisses. Your back arches as his cockhead presses first against your entrance, missing first before he re-steadies and slips inside you, biting your lower lip as they pull back in a wince. Your fingers claw into his bare back as he claims you, a shudder leaving his throat as he nestles inside you, warm, inviting, his, oh so necessarily his.

“Stop worrying about him,” you hiss back. “Focus on me.”

Your eyes narrow as they meet, but he’s softening as you look at him. The first few strokes into your center are fast, harsh, quick in the snap of his hips, but the next ones, with his eyes slowly filling with adoration as he watches your reactions, the scrunch of your face and the lust in your eyes as they roll back, are slow and tender. 

“Focus on me,” he whispers now as he rolls his hips against yours. “Be mine.”

Be mine, be mine, be mine. He kisses your neck, marking you with each press of the lips, each squeeze of his fingertips on your flesh, and he wishes you would scratch and claw your name into his skin if only it means he’s definitely yours and only yours and you’re only his, forever.

[murdrdocs]

kiss me | s. stilinski

description. stiles loves nothing more than to have a taste of your lips

includes. SMUT 16+, stiles is a munch, oral sex (f receiving), AFAB! anatomy, no pronouns, sweet boyfriend!stiles, takes place after s3b (like right after probably), they have a pool day!

a/n: I was singing the song as I typed this document up hence the title plus I wrote this just to get back in the flow of writing okay enjoy (deff not proofread that well I'm busy)

word count: 1.8k+

 His hair is clearly dripping wet, blobs of water falling down onto his shoulders with each step that he takes. The water that falls from the rest of his body to meet the concrete is expected, you pay it no mind, and maybe you would’ve felt similarly about the droplets from his hair. But Stiles is approaching you with a mischievous grin, one that tells you he’s up to no good. It’s almost unsettling; mouth turned up at the corners in a thin smile, brown eyes widened. There’s just enough humor in the amber orbs for you to know that he’s not planning anything too evil, but you’re still on edge. 

“Stiles…” you warn, legs already shrinking in on yourself, book folding closed with your thumbs in the center to keep your page. He’s just a few steps away from you now and up close you can see the tan he’s gotten from the pool day. It sits prominently along his shoulders and across his nose, the color standing out against his usual paleness. 

He looks good. Especially with his trunks hanging low, clinging to every part of him, summer conditioning for lacrosse treating him well as he has muscles cut into his abdomen, along with a newer definition to his shoulders and arms. He looks good. And you could admire that more if your borderline-evil boyfriend were not standing right beside you, bending down, tilting his head towards you…

The squeal you let out is girly, high pitched, one you would see in a movie and remark about how people don’t actually sound like that in real life. Turns out: they do. Usually when water is slinging all over your previously dry body, just barely avoiding the book that you move out of the way just in time. 

Stiles laughs, the sound joyous and pretty to your ears. You can’t help but echo it, letting go of your book to hit his forearm, barely any malice in the touch. 

“Come on, you know I couldn’t help myself.” His smile is infectious, too. Your faux stern expression that you’d quickly painted onto your face melts into a grin, one that has Stiles leaning down to kiss you this time, a soft kiss that sticks your lips to his even as he tries to pull away. There’s a layer of chapstick added to his lips when he comes back in for a second kiss, and a third. 

You let him, taking advantage of the loneliness in the Martin backyard. 

Lydia went inside a half hour ago to do god knows what, while Scott and Kira went on a run to grab lunch. Which left you and Stiles alone, with a large pool, and an even larger backyard to yourselves. 

If it weren’t for your lonesome, you wouldn’t let Stiles lay between your legs, head on your lower belly while his big eyes looked up at you. The position is innocent, for now at least, but you know Stiles, and you know that even the presence of his friends wouldn’t get rid of his one track mind. 

His motives start coming to the forefront when his long fingers teasingly pull at the string of your bikini bottoms. 

“This suit is nice. Did I tell you that already?” He did. And he knows he did. 

You hum, reopening your book to your last page, focusing your attention on the sentences instead of Stiles with hopes of deterring him. 

“You did. Multiple times.” Once when you asked his opinion as you were buying it, another when you tried it on for him after it came in the mail last week, another when you packed it for the day in front of him, and a final time when you came sauntering out of Lydia’s house in it, oiled up and ready to sunbathe. 

Still, Stiles plays dumb, brows furrowing in the way that tells you he knows the answer to whatever question is about to slip past his lips. “Did I?” 

You roll your eyes, already starting to form a snarky reply, but then his fingertips dip below the thin string of your bottoms, and his lips graze the material at the front, just a few inches above your clit. 

You jump involuntarily, lowering the book from your face to glare at him once you recover. He flashes a brief, innocent smile, then his eyes lower back to their main focus. His thumb and forefinger rubs the silky material of your suit bottoms, the slightest tug loosening the bow just a little. 

“If you want me to stop …” he licks his lips, glances up at you for a split second to gauge your reaction. “Then you gotta tell me now.” 

He hesitates, one end of the string pinched between his fingers, and he stares at you, waiting. You take a breath, glance behind you at the backdoor which is still closed, look towards the back exit of the mansion to try and see if Scott and Kira are returning. 

Your teeth trap your bottom lip between them and you roll the flesh a few times before sighing. “Scott and Kira probably won’t be back for a while, right?” 

Stiles nods. 

“And Lydia is … busy, yeah?” 

“Pretty sure she went to meet her new boy toy and just didn’t tell us.” 

A soft, gentle smile from you. “Then okay.” 

Although he was the one doing the convincing, Stiles still seems shocked to hear you agree. His eyebrows shoot up, an appalled look on his features. “Okay?” 

Your nod is barely complete before Stiles is peeling your bottoms off. They’re completely dry, at least in terms of treated salt water. It just makes the wet patch inside of them more noticeable. Stiles stares in awe, lips parted, borderline drool slipping out of them. He licks his lips, throws your bottoms off to the side, and then he’s level with your cunt, hands sliding under your thighs to open you up for him. 

“I just want a little taste,” he’s murmuring, most likely to himself. 

You nod anyway, pushing your hips towards him. “Be quick,” comes your warning. 

“Mhm. Yeah.” But Stiles is already leaning in, tongue licking a wide stripe up from your hole to your clit. It makes you shiver, as the first touch always does, but his kiss into your clit is expected and welcomed, a deep sigh emptying from your chest. 

His kitten licks to your clit are appreciated, providing the stimulation needed if he were teasing you, but when the return of your friends is random, and they could come back at any moment, you need more if you’re going to get off quick. 

Your hand reaches down, tangling in Stiles’ dark locks, nails scratching at his scalp. He hums, just when his lips are wrapped around your clit, and the vibration is heavenly, akin to the ones you get from the toy under your bedside table. But like always, having the pleasure come from your living, breathing, insanely hot boyfriend is unsurpassable. 

You tug gently on the wet strands, pushing aside the intrusive thoughts centering on how unpleasant the feeling of wet hair is when Stiles moans this time. You know how much he loves going down on you, and you know how he likes to have his hair pulled just enough, so his tendency to get lost in the feeling and the act is expected. Doesn’t mean it’s wanted. 

You tell him you want more, the simple word almost a growl from your lips. He’s quick to obey, adjusting his grip on your legs so he can practically dive in. 

His tongue makes quick work of sucking up your juices, and adding to the slip with his saliva. Stiles licks and sucks and flicks his tongue in ways that you can barely even comprehend, his skillset coming from nothing other than determined practice where he’s made you cum again, and again, and again, just so you can tell him what he can do to improve. 

The sessions were tortuous at times, a little humorous when approached from outside of the bedroom, but you’re thankful that you did them in moments like this. 

Because it barely takes anytime before you can see the start of an orgasm just over the horizon. You’re climbing up the hill, Stiles pushing you further and further as he probes your entrance with his tongue, a warning for his middle finger that quickly follows. The ring finger is added in a succession that makes you gasp, the stretch just enough to provide the right amount of stimulation. 

His long, deft digits replace his mouth, giving him time to peel back and speak to you. 

“That’s right. Right there, yeah?” His fingertips curl at your favorite spot, brushing the sensitive area before attacking it head on. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, cutting off your view of the clear sky. “Uh-uh, none of that.” The demand in his tone makes your lower stomach swirl, a feeling that tells you to go another round, even when the first one has yet to end. 

“Look at me.” His voice reaches a depth that you’re used to hearing, usually towards the end of the night when you both need each other in ways that only the steamiest sex can satisfy. He’s commanding you, easily as you do as told, eyes opening and head swiveling down to bring your gaze to your boyfriend. 

His hair has started to dry, the strands a little awkward as they dry in an untidy pattern, but it looks good on him. Dark hair hanging over his forehead, almost reaching darker eyebrows as he’s due for a cut. His cheeks flushed from the sun, the lightest freckles dotting them. He’s pretty everywhere, gorgeous even, but your focus zero in on his lips. 

They’re pink, and coated in glistening essence. It makes you groan, saliva released by your glands like you’re fucking Pavlov’s dog or something. Stiles notices where your attention has gone, a cocky smirk on his lips. 

“Wanna kiss me? Hm?” He’s so attentive to what you want, always. It’s both a blessing and a curse, embarrassment entering your body, but quickly replaced with gratitude since you didn’t have to voice the want yourself, surely leading to your words being disjointed and broken up. 

Your nod suffices as an affirmation, and you start to reach down to meet him halfway. But Stiles doesn’t move. Instead, his fingers stuff deeper into you, clearly on a mission as his thumb of the other hand comes to your clit, rubbing tight circles that are driven by a motivation to send you over the edge. To have you reach the horizon. 

“Then cum for me.” 

And of course, you do as told.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

I Missed You - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Don’t mind me; just trying something new for this story. I hope it fits this request well. Let me know if it doesn’t

Also, 🎀 anon, I dedicate this story to you, both because you’re the one who requested it and because of that feral fucking ask I woke up to. I love it and I adore you. I hope you like this fic

CW: language; explicit sexual content; smut; Reader’s anatomy is called parts and hole; unprotected sex; Reader is a bunny mutant; Reader’s arousal is called slick; fondling; touching; praise; kissing; marking; predator/prey dynamics; predator/prey kink; biting; mating press (?); rough sex; intimate sex; gentle sex; doggy style; breeding; snuggling; no aftercare; Logan doesn’t pull out; affectionate but intense sex is how I’ll sum this up

1385 words

“Fuck, I missed you.” The first words Logan says once he gets back. He wraps you in a bear hug, scooping you into his arms and nuzzling his face into your neck. Breathing in your scent.

“Fuck, I missed you.” Again when he slides his thick cock against your leaking hole.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, naked for only his eyes to see. His hands roam your body, his touch tender but firm. He’s just feeling you, every now and then moving his hips forward to tease his dick against your slick parts.

It makes you shudder and whimper each time, your bunny tail quivering underneath you. He seems to delight in your sounds, a low rumble echoing from his chest every time you make a noise.

His hands move to your face. Caressing your cheeks, stroking over your lips. Fondling your ears and making you whine softly as he rubs at the base.

His voice is almost a growl, low and gruff as he murmurs about how handsome you are. How good you look like this. How delicious you sound. He’s hungry and you’re a feast.

He starts at your lips. Kissing and nipping. Licking into your mouth to taste you. Mixing your saliva with his. You follow his movements, sliding your tongue against his. Tracing along the ridges of his teeth.

He doesn’t linger long. Soon he’s moving down to your neck. There he gets more rough. Nipping and biting and marking. He sucks on your skin, leaving bruises. He bites your neck, leaving little indents in your flesh.

It makes you stiffen, the prey instinct in you screaming to run. To hide. To push him off you.

He can feel the way you tense and he responds immediately. Tilting his head to bite hard, trapping your neck in his jaws. It makes your mind go blank, your body go floppy. You go boneless, your body losing its tension.

Logan takes advantage of the moment, slowly but firmly guiding his dick into your hole. You don’t even tense up once, too focused on his jaws around your neck. The saliva pooling against your skin.

He bottoms out easily, fully sheathed within you. It makes your brain tingle, your body feeling stuffed. He’s not small, and it’s not the first time he’s bitten you to keep you loose.

But it is the first time he looks at you like that when he pulls back. His gaze soft and concerned, eyes searching your face. You just pant softly and finally clench around him.

You both groan. Logan bares his teeth, a growl in his throat. His hands come up to trace along your chest. Just gentle brushes of his fingers along your skin. It makes you squirm a little, but he quickly moves on.

He gives your stomach some love, feeling along the flesh there. Touching and caressing and just feeling you.

It feels like sweet torture. Your body screaming for him to move while he takes his time. Just appreciating you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathes, gaze almost reverent. He skips over your hips, feeling along your thighs. Lifting them up to rest your legs on his shoulders.

You’re sure the need to fuck you must be killing him inside, but he shows no sign of breaking. Not yet.

He presses a kiss to your knee, your shin, your ankle. One side, then the next.

Finally, his hands land on your hips. He slowly pulls back before thrusting back in. Splitting your hole open with his thick cock. You’re certainly not floppy anymore, but the amount of slick that gushes around his dick helps ease the stretch.

You make a sound. Almost like a squeak. High-pitched. Desperate. A prey animal’s plea for help.

Logan responds to the sound, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He growls, thrusting into you again. And again. And again. Slowly getting faster each time.

Your breaths come fast and quick. It feels so good to be like this. Split open, fucked deep. It’s pure torture having him go so slow, but you cling to the sheets below you for support.

It’s not until you bare your neck that he finally snaps. His fingers dig into your hips, his teeth gleaming in the light. He snarls, snapping his hips harshly against yours. He picks up a brutal pace, making your head spin and your body sing with pleasure.

He presses closer, moving one hand to the bed as he leans over. Practically bending you in half. His thrusts never faltering once, even when your body squeezes him so tight.

You’re a mess. Moans and squeals and cries of his name slipping from your lips. You’ve never felt more like a rabbit. The need to be fucked coursing through your veins. Molten heat gathering in your abdomen.

When your orgasm hits, it’s blinding. All encompassing. Mind-melding. You clench around him, crying out as he presses you to the bed. Trapping you in just the way you like.

When your thoughts regather and your brain feels less like mush, he lets you go. You groan and stretch out your legs, cramps digging their claws into your muscles.

He runs his hands along your thighs, massaging the muscles as he gently starts to fuck you again. This time it’s soft. Slow and easy. He’s always had better control over his animalistic side, able to pull it back when needed.

You bask in the attention, riding out the waves of easy pleasure as he thrusts in and out of you. After a while, he shifts to be over you. Leaning down to bite at your neck again.

You’re too lazy off your high to worry about it. Your prey instincts are sated for the moment, only the full need to be bred still thrumming inside you.

He marks up your neck, moving to your shoulders and even leaving some on your chest. His hands caress your body, easing any tension from you until you’re putty in his hands.

He pulls out, making you whine from the loss. Only to tug at your hips, sliding an arm under your body to lift you up and over, onto your hands and knees. You let the upper half of your body rest against the bed, keeping your ass high up.

He gave you your favorite position; you’ll give him his. He slides back in, hand already gripping your tail. It twitches under his touch, the base extra sensitive from your orgasm.

He starts to thrust again, stronger this time but not harshly. You moan softly into the bed. He’s using you for his own pleasure this time around. Fucking you quick and eagerly.

He grips your ass, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. You don’t really mind; not when he’s hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I missed you.”

His thrusts get faster, the sounds obscenely loud in the room. The squelch of your slick and the slap of his skin against yours. It’s intoxicatingly hot.

With a snarl of your name, he buries himself deep in you, spilling hot seed into your eagerly waiting body. It relaxes that last part of you, making you sigh with happiness.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he helps you lie down, shifting you onto your side and moving to cuddle you from behind. It’s a little awkward, but you need his dick to keep you full.

It doesn’t matter if you’ll clean it all out later and take a pill for the risk. You need the feeling of being bred. And Logan’s all too happy to oblige.

He nuzzles into your neck as you relax. Kissing the marks he’d made and gently caressing your body. He’s purring softly, and the sound soothes your mind.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles quietly against your skin. Draping his arm over you and pulling you close against his chest. Your eyes close and you let out a breath.

He’s not leaving for a while. You won’t have to miss him again, not for quite some time. So you let yourself unwind. Just basking in his presence and the gentle rumble of his chest as he purrs.

You wouldn’t give this up for the world.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[justwinginglife]

hi can I request sochiro x reader arrange marriage where the girl is a platoon leader in the third and first division. And her parents want her to quit her job to be a housewife, but like she’s very good at it. And her and soshiro don’t really get along and when they sleep together it’s always after they argue because in her head she thinks the only way she can hurt him is if she runs her nails down his back. Furthermore they start to eventually fall for each other I’ll let you decide how. But then he starts to get jealous at the guys that clearly like her and he kinda wants to claim her. Idk something like that can you make it angsty too pls

thank you sorry for the trouble

Don't apologize, it's no trouble at all! Sorry I took so long with this prompt, was just trying to figure out all the in's and out's. Honestly not even sure if this is what you wanted, but this is my attempt. ALSO THIS IS NSFW IF YALL COULDN'T TELL.

The Best Kind Of Disaster

You expected marriage to a stranger to be difficult but not a disaster. It was, in fact, quite disastrous. But your parents had begged you to quit your job as a Platoon Leader in the First Division and this was your compromise with them- you'd marry anyone they chose on the condition that they quit complaining about your work and stop trying to get you to become a housewife. So now you were in this mess for better or for worse and this disaster was yours to keep.

Honestly, you'd originally thought this marriage would be a breeze. The man you had saddled yourself with was none other than Vice Captain Hoshina of the Defense Force's Third Division so you knew he'd at least understand your duty if he didn't understand anything else. And he was quite the looker too. But looks don't solve everything and you were starting to realize that more and more, day by day.

You blamed Captain Narumi for your troubles. You'd taken too much of his personality into you, after working with him so long, and Hoshina could feel it. Every little behavior that was Gen's, every reflex, every smartass comment, the way you fought, even the tone of your voice sometimes resembled his, and Hoshina was not having it.

He constantly complained that if he wanted to marry Narumi he would've just married Narumi. And you were constantly pissed that he'd never recognize you as your own person. You couldn't even drink your tea or read a book without him making some snide comment about how Narumi probably taught you how to put a proper cup together or how he probably taught you how to read. Then you'd shoot back with some snarky comment of your own but it only furthered his opinion that you were just another Narumi copy.

One day, you'd decided to show him the specific ways in which you were different from Narumi. Your anatomy, in particular.

He had come home from a particularly long day at work and had too much energy to burn off, too much stress on his lower half. You noticed the little bulge in his pants and thought you'd tease him a little but he didn't take the vulgar comments well. In no time at all, he had you in a chokehold on the ground. You thought you might break his boner with the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch, but that fire inside you went somewhere else when you saw his little smirk. It was the first time you'd even seen some resemblance of a smile on his face, and the thought that you being underneath him was what had pleased him sent those flames rushing to the space between your legs.

You smirked right back and adjusted your weight, yanking him to the floor and positioning yourself on top him.

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Fucking wannabe Narumi."

"Fucking second-rate samurai."

"I bet Narumi fucks better than you do."

"I bet Soichiro fucks better than you do."

He growled at that, rolling over so you were pinned underneath him again. He ground his hips up against yours and the feeling of his erection fucking you through your pants got your underwear soaking. He started sucking and biting harshly at your neck as though he were trying to tear your throat out with his teeth. But you liked the pain. It was surprisingly the most attracted you'd ever been to him.

You yanked his shirt off, only able to admire his rock-hard physique for a minute before he shoved his tongue down your throat. You almost choked on it and he smirked against your lips. He was so fucking smug and it pissed you off- in the sexiest way.

You bit his lip hard and he groaned at the sharp sensation.

To get you back, he gripped your breast tight, squeezing at it with full force. Then he ripped your shirt off and began sucking at his target aggressively, dragging his tongue back and forth over your nipple relentlessly. You moaned and began cupping your other breast, to which he responded by shoving your hand away from your chest.

"Did I fucking tell you that you could touch yourself? You're going to pay for making that comment about my brother. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't see straight and you're going to take back your words, so don't go getting off before I can destroy you properly."

"Promises, promises. You talk a big game for being the lesser Hoshina." You teased with daring eyes.

He knew you were baiting him but he didn't care, he used it as fuel to unleash all his jealousy and fury on you. "We'll see if you'll still be saying that by the time I'm done with you. I'm gonna send you back to Narumi so fucking cum drunk he won't be able to recognize you."

And with that, not wanting to waste anymore time talking, he jerked your pants off of you and jabbed his fingers at your panties. He wouldn't give you the satisfaction of feeling him fully inside you yet. He just teased at your entrance, roughly dragging his fingers up and down your underwear, pleased at just how much wetter he was making it.

You groaned at the unnecessary teasing and before he could react, you wrenched your underwear to the side and shoved his two fingers inside you, thrusting your hips into them.

He hissed but he didn't resist, he just kept pumping his fingers deep inside you. "So fucking impatient and so fucking wet."

"Thought you were gonna show me something special, or do I have to ask your brother if I want a good time?"

You could almost feel his glare searing holes into your skull and the thought got you so damn horny. "Fuck me then, Soshiro."

It was the first time he'd heard you say his first name and he groaned as he palmed his growing erection through his pants. Then he yanked it out, fucking his hand until there was enough precum drizzling down his throbbing cock.

You wanted to make some sassy comment about his shrimpy size (honestly, it was huge but you didn't need him to have anymore ego than he already did so you thought you'd knock him down a peg), but before you could form any words, a yelp had already escaped your throat as you realized he'd just shoved his full length inside you.

He was grinning widely now, amused by the precious little noises escaping your quivering lips.

You bit your lip to silence them but more moans came clumsily tumbling out as he continued to relentlessly thrust into you until you thought he might bruise your sensitive walls. Might make you bleed out underneath him.

You wanted your share of his blood too and you dug your nails into his back, as you braced yourself for his next onslaught. The feeling of you piercing his skin did more to him than either of you thought it would, because his pace picked up, like he was eager to come with your nails carved into him.

The sound of him desperately fucking your dripping pussy, panting heavily as he groaned into your chest, sent you over the edge. Never mind that you were married and this is what married couples did, no this act of intimacy with him felt filthy, felt corrupt. You hated each other. So why did it feel so obscenely good? If this feeling were a tangible object, you would've locked it away and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

But regardless, the feeling of pure orgasmic pleasure washed over you anyway and you shuddered underneath him, clenching around his dick as you came in waves. He took this as permission to thrust into you again, this time pumping hot white sheets of his cum inside your velvety depths.

He finished filling you up and pulled out abruptly, but to your surprise he then flipped you over on your stomach and plunged his still-dripping cock inside your ass, continuing his assault on your trembling body.

You whimpered at this new sensation and he soaked up the sound. You hadn't wanted to inflate his ego but you'd done it all the same.

He reached around you and roughly flicked a finger at your clit as he thrust into your ass deeper.

"If you beg me to stop I will." You could almost hear his stupid smirk.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "What, you don't got the stamina to finish the job, Hoshina?"

He chuckled darkly, and removed his hand from your swollen clit, much to your dismay. Then he dug his hands into your hips before pounding into you harder.

The pain and the pleasure were so beautifully distracting that you almost forgot you hated him. You could get lost in the feeling of being underneath him, of making him so wild for you that he'd fuck you round after round, cum still fresh on his dick each time.

The arousing thoughts forced another orgasm from you, and you squirt all over the floor as he pumped his seed deep into your ass.

You collapsed on the ground, dripping from front and back, and he pulled away from you to admire his handiwork while he caught his breath.

You thought maybe the sudden intimacy would change something in your relationship, make you sweeter to each other, kinder to each other, but that hope was ripped from your mind when he made a stupid fucking comment about liking you better when you were all pathetic for him and you ended up kneeing him in the balls.

Months later, you were still making petty comments and snarky digs at each other, but that first initial sexual encounter proved that one thing had in fact changed in your relationship- hate sex was now on the table and the both of you were ready to use it at a moment's notice.

You got more kills than him in combat? He'd take it out on your clit.

He said your cooking was shit? You blew him so hard he begged for seconds. You forced him to retry your food and rethink his stance on it, then you choked him down again afterwards.

Little by little, you both unconsciously began to seek each other out more and more; of course, you both used the sex as a cover, but even when you weren't having sex you were still looking for each other, looking for ways to be closer.

He said he wanted to blow your back out but really he wanted to wish you a happy birthday and he snuck a gift into your room when you weren't looking.

You said you wanted to milk him dry, but you really wanted to distract him from the bad day he was having.

He said he wanted to fuck you until you dropped, but really he wanted you away from base when they were looking for volunteers for a particularly dangerous mission.

All this tip-toeing, just to avoid the simple truth that your relationship had evolved into what marriage was supposed to be in the first place. If you really thought about it, it should've been easy. You were already married, how hard could it be to confess your feelings to your husband? But you didn't like to think about it, didn't like to wonder if you were overestimating your relationship, if you were overthinking every nice gesture he made, if you were really just a body for him to have sex with. You couldn't stand the thought of being desperately in love with him and him seeing you as just another woman. Just some baggage he'd gotten bogged down with. Even if he had grown fond of you, was it just in the way one was fond of a pet?

So you kept quiet. And so did he.

And for awhile, it seemed like your relationship would forever be suspended in this state. But then you got asked out on a date and the aching in your heart made you realize everything you were missing from your current relationship. You wanted to be pursued, you wanted to be chased after. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to be desired.

So now, here was this tall, handsome man asking you out, offering you everything you could've ever wanted, and all you could do was flounder. Of course you wanted to be seduced, wanted to be wanted, but he wasn't Soshiro. No one would ever be Soshiro to you.

Right as you were about to reject him, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, the grip firm and protective.

"I really hope I heard wrong, because you better not be asking my wife out on a date." Soshiro warned, his voice low and rough as he took his place beside you.

The man looked from him to you, then back to him, and he quickly shook his head before scurrying off.

"That's what I thought." Soshiro grumbled, pulling you closer to him.

"Since when am I yours?" You teased, nudging him with your arm.

"Since when are you not?" He nuzzled up against your ear, nibbling on it slightly.

You rolled your eyes. "In bed, sure. Outside, not so sure."

His brows furrowed at your statement. "What do you mean?"

You waved him away, not wanting to have this discussion in public. "Nothing, nothing."

He grabbed your wrist tightly. "Baby. What do you mean you're not mine?"

He'd never called you baby before. He'd never called you any pet name before. Your heart thundered in your chest.

"I thought we... I thought we just...." You trailed off, unable to explain yourself in a way that made you sound less pathetic.

"Thought we what? We just fuck and mess around and don't care about each other?" He demanded, his eyes focused intensely on yours.

You swallowed but then nodded slowly.

He winced and bit his lip. "Fuck. I had a feeling, but I didn't realize it was this bad. I... I'll make myself more clear next time."

You coughed. "I'm sorry- what?"

"I... I don't want to just fuck around. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

You laughed at that. "Well you kinda already have to, we're legally stuck together."

He shook his head quickly. "I'm not stuck with you, I'm with you because I want to be. Because I... love you."

He got down on one knee and pressed a tender kiss to your hand. "I know I'm a little late, but will you marry me?"

You laughed again, but this time your heart felt lighter and your cheeks felt warmer. You held up your hand, flashing the ring that was already settled around your finger at him. "I already have, love. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat. In a million lifetimes. So yes, I will marry you."

Then he stands up and gives you the kiss you should've had at the altar. It's mind melting and dripping with sweetness and care. It's passionate but delicate, as if he doesn't want to break the moment. It's everything you've ever wanted.

He's everything you've ever wanted.