#give that man some body fat its protective!!!!!!!

[tovaicas]

you know the day someone draws estinien with actual body fat and not like. fantasy ripped is the day I can die happy

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warning: yandere and obsessive behavior, mentions of death and violence, possessiveness

Yandere!Angel adored you with all of his heart, worshipping you as his goddess. He abandoned his creator, instead turning to you.

He kissed along your thighs, his strong, large hands holding onto your plump thighs as he spread them open.

He always looked up at you for permission, his chin resting on your leg obediently. Despite the fact he was nearly twice your height, he acted like a needy puppy before you, willing to do anything to please you.

“May I?”

You nodded, sighing happily as his tongue licked your soft, fat pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

As he settled between your thighs, ready to worship his goddess, he began to remember how this all came to be.

He was supposed to be working on earth, helping guide humans to the correct path and keep them from sinning.

Instead, he ended up getting hurt, stranded on the side of the road with a broken wing.

He hadn’t been told how cruel humans could be.

So when you pulled over in your car, running up to him, he attempted to spread out his wings in a defensive display, his eyes shining bright enough to blind a man.

But his eyes dimmed and he yelped in pain as his broken wing moved. He fell back onto the ground, panting softly, looking up at you weakly.!

“Hey, hey…”

You knelt down, reaching out carefully to inspect his wing.

“Don’t touch me!”

You flinched, frozen in fear, his power causing you to be unable to move.

An angel’s command worked only on those pure of heart… so for a moment to examined you.

Soft and chubby with a kind face, like the cherubs he played with in heaven. As you did your best to bandage his wing, you noticed he was nearly twice the size of you… and very handsome.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise. See, it’s feeling better isn’t it?”

The angel watched you, his eyes wide with curiosity and wonder as you dabbed some soothing cream onto his swollen skin. You were being so gentle with him, guiding him back to your car.

The way you kept him flush against you, being as gentle as possible to make sure his wounds wouldn’t be irritated made him feel… strange.

He barely fit in your backseat, having to lie down so you could close the door.

“… thank you…”

He nuzzled softly against you, his undamaged wing flapping. “You saved me… you’re so kind, like an angel… like…”

You turned to see him staring at you, his eyes big. The golden orbs observed with newfound interest, watching as you grabbed a med kit to further clean and treat his wounds.

‘Like a goddess…’ he thought to himself, not daring to say such blasphemy aloud.

As he began to recover, you noticed him staring, following you with his eyes every time you moved.

“Need something?”

He quickly looked away, his cheek flushing a soft pink. His wing fluttered in both nervousness and excitement.

“I… don’t need anything.”

It didn’t take him long to heal, his body was different than any human or animal, but… he still feigned pain when you touched his now healed wing.

“Ah, it still hurts?”

You soothed him, letting him nuzzle into you and look at you with those big golden eyes. He was utterly entranced, wanting to worship and adore you… no one had ever been so kind to him!

So that’s how he ended up like this, begging for you to use him, to order him around and to let him love and protect you for all of time.

The only catch was… he was the only one allowed to worship the temple that was your body.

He pulled his fingers from your wet cunt, his tongue struggling to part with your puffy clit. It wasn’t easy, but he knew from your whines and tugging on his pants that you wanted his cock now.

And he would give you anything…

He pushed his cock past your wet folds, stretching you on him. The first time he worshipped you this way, he cried with you as your body tried its best to accommodate his large size. He hated seeing you in pain…

Your pretty, ample breasts bounced deliciously as he moved his hips, unable to stop himself from fucking you like a wild animal.

God you were perfect, his angel, his goddess… and no one would ever get to see the look of ecstasy on your face when you came.

A warm bath had you sighing in relief after, your angel happily bathing you, kissing your feet and scrubbing your body as gently as possible.

Though it was difficult keeping his jealously at bay… being with him wasn’t too hard. If only you knew how many men he had killed due to his possessive nature…

You’d never even think he was capable. He was an angel after all, with soft blonde curls and the prettiest, most innocent golden eyes.

And he wanted you to remain ignorant to his second nature. He much preferred worshipping you while you were relatively free and happy…

But he’d lock you up if it meant keeping you to himself~

The angel settled you down with him after your bath, covering you with his soft, feathery white wings. He kept you close to his chest, kissing your head.

Everything was just perfect.

For now…

(More?)

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[i-cant-sing]

Thinking about my own grandpa and how he'd comfort me with sweets/icecream whenever i had the slightest inconvenience and i just dream of whether he'd still do it to me as a 23 year old, ruffling my hair, letting me cut his birthday cake, scolding my parents when they got mad at me (yes i snitched on my parents), wiping my fat tears with his handkerchief, showing me his drawings of airplane engines as cold air blasted through the ac, letting me eat food from his plate that my mom made me bring him lol.

and like it grandparents are sooo sweet man. they couldve been okay-ish parents to their own kids, but then they get grandkids and they're like a whole different species *sniffle* theyre so precious.

and now my mind goes to that yandere todoroki clan au (i think it was the bullied series) where at the end, reader dies because of rei, and the whole fam loses their sanity. then one day, reader is reincarnated (its her quirk) as dabi's baby and dabi shares the news with his siblings because he needs to restore their sanity too (cause he feels responsible for them too, the "eldest kid" syndrome).

anyways, after you, his daughter had died, enji lost it and killed rei and then just vanished into the mountains to mourn his loss. years later, for whatever reason, he finds out about you. he's standing there, watching toddler you looking at him with curiosity. you stumble towards him, and Enji's on his knees at this point, he's in shock. your scars, your marks from your previous life dont even register to him until later on, all he can focus is you- its you, his baby. his daugher. his child that he swore to protect and failed.

your legs give out when you reach him but your hands reach for him and enji's already lifting you up, bringing you to his chest. his eyes are filled with tears as u look at him and babble, your hands grabbing onto his shirt, touching his face, big doe eyes staring at him.

he hugs you, silent sobs wrecking his body as he gets a whiff of your head. you- you smell just like her- like his daughter.

It really is you.

he doesn't let go of you, even when you eventually fall asleep in his arms, rocking you gently as he stares down at you in awe and disbelief. he doesn't let you go even when dabi tries to take you back, even when dabi insists that he won't keep you two apart, that you need to rest in your bed as he explains everything.

he finally let's you go when you wake up and reach for your dad (dabi), crying when enji doesn't let you leave his arms. but he relents, enji relents when you cry- it hurts him so bad, he's reminded of all the times how you used to cry before, how you used to beg him for help, beg him to save you. his heart breaks to see you like this, in tears.

enji's only partially conscious of what dabi is saying to him, explaining to him that you're now "his" daughter and enji's "granddaughter" and that's how things will be if they need to work. But enji doesn't care whether you're his daughter or not, all he cares about is that he's in your life because he needs to- he will keep you safe. He won't make the same mistakes again. Never.

i can just imagine the siblings and enji all sitting down together to make decisions about your life in extreme detail so that they ensure that no harm befalls you ever again, and if by some extreme badluck you die, they need to make sure that you reincarnate back to them.

they plan your every day, they make sure that at least one of them is with you at all times, and most importantly, they make sure youre safe and happy. when you start going to school, you're taken to school by Shotou because Dabi (who went back to working as a chef) has to go to work early. then at school, your teacher is more than likely Fuyumi (and if she's not your teacher, then she still works at your school). then after school, you're picked up by Enji who takes you out for ice cream (always, he doesnt care if its before u have had lunch. he needs to make up for all the times he couldnt give u ice cream because of rei) and also buy you any toys u want. enji is just enjoying you padding away and pointing at things that catch your eye. at home, natsuo has returned from his shift at the hospital and then starts heating up the food dabi had already made for you, before letting enji put you down for nap time. when you wake up, natsuo takes your vitals and a basic medical check. by dinner, dabi is home and you welcome him by launching yourself at his legs with a thud. he laughs, picks you up and pecks your cheek before taking you into the kitchen with him to make dinner while you tell him all about your day.

[diremoone]

christmas overload | g. satoru

prompt 3 — “It’s our baby’s first Christmas. I don’t think they’re going to remember you buying them all of these stuffies.”

requested by anon: pleaseee bless us with gojo and christmas prompt 3 pleaseeeee

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

“I know you have money out the ass, Satoru, but was this really necessary?”

“Absolutely.”

The man looks 100% confident, not an ounce of shame written across his face. In fact, he looks like he’s never been more happy with himself, ego ballooned farther than even you thought was possible.

Underneath the multicolored lights of the ten foot Christmas tree are stuffies galore. You note that there are several dozen more presents under the tree than there were before you’d taken a nap, but those seemed to be nothing compared to all of the stuffed animals and plushies surrounding the tree and taking up so much space in the living room.

Your 6’3 husband stands proudly before said tree, hands on his hips dramatically with a fat smile on his face.

“You think Satsuki will like it?” Satoru asks.

“I think she’s going to go crazy over it,” you answer. And Satoru’s grin gets impossibly bigger, simple on full display. But then you add something else to the sentence, making his happy smile plummet. “But she’s only eight months, Satoru. I don’t think she’s going to remember you buying all of these stuffies and presents.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. He knows that you’re right; she’s too little, too tiny to remember her overexcited Daddy spoiling her on her very first Christmas.

Guilt courses through you at the sound of a sad sniffle coming from him. Satoru’s large body sits next to yours on the couch, leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I just wanted her first Christmas to be special,” he mutters.

“And it is, baby,” you say. You rub his back in comfort. “She’ll know her daddy tried to spoil her on her first Christmas, she just… won’t remember. Not this year.”

His cheeks puff out as he huffs. He looks at you with shiny eyes, laced with what you know to be disappointment, and asks, “Are you sure she won’t remember?”

“Unless she’s got some unreal ability to remember this right now that we don’t know about, I’d say so,” you reply. “But it’s not like there won’t be pictures for her to remember later in life.”

“That’s true, but I want her to remember them now!” he whines childishly.

“Sorry to disappoint, babe.” You ruffle his hair. “That’s just the way it is. Give it a few years and then you’ll get what you want.”

Satoru sighs and leans back against the back of the couch. He covers his eyes with his arm dramatically. “I guess.”

And then the doorbell suddenly rings, making you jump. You weren’t expecting anyone today, so who in the world was at the front door?

Cries fill the air. No doubt the doorbell woke up your eight-month-old daughter.

Satoru stands. “You get Satsuki, I’ll get the door.”

You head toward the nursery, opening the ajar door to find your precious girl awake and upset with tears and snot running down her face. Her wails turn to soft cries as her pretty blue eyes that match her daddy’s meet your own. You slide your hands under her back and head and lift her to your chest. Her soft cries turn to soft sniffles as she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay, ‘Suki. I know the doorbell scared you,” you soothe her, rubbing her back up and down gently. “Sorry, sorry. Come on, let’s go see your papa. He’ll protect you, won’t he?”

Satsuki sniffles and nods, snuggling impossibly closer into your hold like she’s agreeing with you.

You head back into the living room, only for your mouth to drop to the floor.

Beside the Christmas tree, on either side, was a massive plush Baymax and a gigantic teddy bear just as big. Resting against the front door is a stuffed reindeer that’s almost as big, its big fat red nose showing that its Rudolph.

Satoru looks at you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Too much?”

You nod, mouth still ajar. “Too much.”

But your baby girl doesn’t think so. She immediately starts clapping and reaching for the giant teddy bear that’s closest to her out of the three.

Satoru’s sheepish grin turns into one of absolute enthusiasm and love at the sight of his baby reaching for one of the presents he’s gotten her. He practically skips over to you and scoops up the white-haired princess.

“Did Daddy do a good job? You like the presents Daddy got you, my little Princess Mochi?”

The gleeful energy from the two combined is absolutely infectious. You laugh as Satoru spins his eight-month-old daughter through the air, bubbly shrieks of delight escaping her lips.

Yeah, you’d tell Satoru she had some sort of ability to remember her first Christmas, just to keep the smile on his face.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut @heresan @4sat0ruu @nayrring @missmuffinr @itzmeme @torusmochi

[diejager]

Wraith

He was a mass of muscle, fat and darkness, his body shifting between the material and immaterial worlds. One second he would wear the skin of a man, and the other, he would be a body of dark smoke, deadly to mortal hands if he willed to be. He could eat people up, swallow their bodies - living or dead, either sustained him - and taking them into him to give himself strength and energy. A cannibalism some called him (it would be truthful if he was human, a being of mortal skin and flesh), a monster some others shuddered (he was born one, their was no use denying what he was).

You, however, revelled at him, taking him in willingly, letting his deathly fog push into you. He was a mix of flesh and smoke, tongue pushed deep into your mouth, the thin tips dragging down your throat and gagging you around his tongue; his cock, pale and girthy, rocked into you with deep and strong strokes into your hole; and his body, darkness, held you against the wall, gripping onto you and holding you still when you squirmed.

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated and wide, gazed into your dazed ones, drunk on his cock and the smoke that filled you, squirming its way into you through your mouth and rim. Simon loved how easily he could bend you, push you against the cold wall and rip into you, breaking that steal-like facade of yours into a mewling, moaning bitch of his. He could have you squirming in place with the simple flick of his shadow, breaking you down to your knees, pleading - begging - him for your release.

Like you, he could easily break down for you if you asked him to, pushing past his fears and rank to grovel at your feet, lapping at your fingers and toes to take care of you - to please you as you please him. He’s a caring lover, he gave as much as he took, he mostly gave more than he took, ripping orgasm after orgasm from you before coming once only and filling you with his (it was hot for his deathly cold body, the burning heat making you spasm and cry out at how hot it was.) cum.

He was loving and careful, always when he was with you, protecting you from the danger of his powers, the ones who poisoned him every second he used it. He was a wraith, a deathly phantom made from evil and darkness that promised destruction in its path. For you, though, he would walk it if it meant keeping you safe, destroying all and every danger that could cause you pain. After all, you were the only human in the Task Force, that demanded more shielding from him and the others.

He wasn't human, monster or bastard in your eyes, he was Simon Riley to you, he was the love of your life as you were his.

@rivalriotrenegade

[meowpupp]

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

simon riely x chubby!reader

tw// slight blood play (nothing extreme,) possessiveness, HEAPS of praise

simon who is just so utterly obsessed with you. with owning you, fucking you, with being yours. 

he’s infamous, everyone knows who he is. he doesn’t flaunt his strength or outwardly display just how vicious he is, but it’s hard for rumours not to spread if each time a man looks at you he beats them an inch within their life. 

but no matter how bloody and bruised he gets, you’re always there. you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub, careful hands disinfecting his wounds. 

another night at a club leads you here. everyone in the area knows you’re simon’s girl, but some still can’t resist getting handsy. but simon was always there, watching, waiting, ready to put a man back into their place. 

there’s a sick type of joy he gets from ‘protecting’ you, as he puts it. hes a feral mutt, born to bite, and you are the only soft thing he’s ever had. it’s no wonder he snarls when something even remotely threatens you. 

but no matter how mean he is to others, he is always, always, soft for you. just for you. he watches with half-lidded eyes as you bandage his knuckles. kissing over each one, its like you aim to take away the pain. this is familiar. this is comfortable. this is love. 

he pulls his big hand from yours, giving you the other one. his knuckles are split and bruised, an angry red and purple colour. “you’re too sweet f’me lovie.” his voice is slightly slurred, a testament to the alcohol he’s drank. you can smell it when he speaks. a mix of bourbon and cigarettes. its somehow addicting, just like everything else about him. 

you just tut, rolling your eyes as you work on his hand. “someone has to be.” he huffs out a laugh, averting his eyes from you.

soon enough they’re both fixed. you kiss his palms once more for good luck, giggling as he raises an eyebrow. he gives you a smirk, something about it sends a shiver through your body. his split lip and black eye give him an air of something dangerous. you should leave, run, and never speak to him again. but just like eve, you bite. 

his hands move to your hips, gripping and squeezing the fat. he watches the way it bulges between the gaps of his fingers. a low groan rips from his throat, pulling you forward till you sit in his lap. 

his hands are warm as they slide up your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on your sternum. “such a pretty fuckin girl.” he growls, his eyes half-lidded and heated as they trail your body. the curves of your hips, your soft tummy, the way your thighs splay around his waist. it’s a dangerous mix, one that makes his cock strain in his pants. 

“you’re so good t’me,” he leans forward, kissing up your neck, “my good girl.” his stubble brushes against your skin as he speaks, causing shivers to shoot up your spine. your thighs clench around his waist, and he laughs. it’s low, tempting and arrogant. he’s everything your parents told you to stay away from, and yet you can’t help yourself. 

in another life, simon would be the symbol of saints. sandy blonde hair, pale skin, and dark chocolate eyes. his lips are pale pink, his eyelashes long. everything about him is a stereotypical representation of purity. he looks like an angel, one worthy of a gods favouritism. 

but that isn’t this life. your simon is pierced, his right eyebrow and tongue shining with metal. your simon wears smudged eyeliner and leather jackets. he drives too fast and smokes daily. your simon easily surrenders to sin, his biggest temptation being you. 

and so, he can’t help but give in. 

his lips crash against yours, devouring you. he takes and takes and takes, demanding every ounce of your being. his tongue piercing never fails to make you moan. the metal is cool despite how hot and needy the kiss is. your hands cup his jaw, denying him an inch of space away from you. not that he’d ever take it. 

one of his hands drops to your hip, nails digging in. he guides them, setting a slow rhythm as you grind against him. the zipper of his jeans nudges your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body. 

neither of you speak, completely lost in each other. the moans and groans from you both fill the room. his hands are greedy, groping any inch of your skin he can. his lips pull from yours, only to trail hot kisses down your throat. he bites and sucks at the delicate skin. a deep groan rips from his throat as he tastes iron, staining his lips red. he bucks up into you, a silent command for you to grind faster. 

you pant into his ear, arms wrapping around his body. your nails scratch at his back, the sensation sending shocks of white-hot pleasure through his body. he groans, eyes squeezing shut. this must be heaven. nothing else could ever feel as good as you. 

simon pulls back, lips and chin smeared with your blood. he smirks up at you, the red liquid staining his teeth. he looks feral, like an animal devouring prey. his eyes scan up and down your body. the way your cheeks flush, how your chest heaves, the way your hips roll. he wants to consume you, to devour every fibre of your being and keep it to himself. no one else should ever get the privilege of touching you like this. simon may not be your first, but he will be your last. he wont have it any other way. 

your eyes are half-lidded, a look simon adores. you look so pretty, lips parted as you whine, neck marked up, back arched. his hands settle on your waist, guiding you to move faster, harder. “cmon lovie, want you t’stain my fuckin jeans.” his hips buck up into you, the button of his jeans pressing against your clit. he grins as you whine, back arching, face contorting in pleasure. 

your hands claw at his jaw, pulling him forward. his lips crash into yours again. you can taste your own blood, only making your clit throb. he groans deep in his chest, cock twitching. 

his hands move, pushing your shirt up. he takes a moment to watch your tits, the way they move as your chest heaves. he gropes the soft fat, pinching and rolling your nipples. simon kisses you once again, swallowing every needy whine like a starved man. 

“cmon baby, give it to me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks, the hand on your chest trailing up to your neck, squeezing, “cum f’me, cum f’me pretty girl.” 

he grins as you tense, moaning loudly and clinging to him as you finish. his arms wrap around you, lips brushing your ear as he talks you through your orgasm, his following soon after. 

“good fuckin girl. so perfect, so fuckin obedient,” he grips your jaw, forcing your fucked out gaze to meet his, “how bout i give you some really dick, hm? a nice thank you for bein so good to me.” he smirks, almost laughing as you nod. 

[dollmoth-productions]

Hii!! I really like your platonic, yandere Hazbin Hotel writing and was wondering it you could do one with the Hazbin hotel cast dealing with Anxious teen reader who has panic attacks often.❤❤❤

Platonic Yandere hazbin hotel with anxious S/O

⚠️ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR AND DRUGGING AND FORCED KISSING STOCKHOLM OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR STALKING POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR STOCKHOLM SYNDROME MANIPULATION ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR AND DRUGGING AND FORCED ITS NOT HEALTHY ⚠️

…………………………………………………………………………

Charlie

🩷 she absolutely adores you and tries her best to make sure that you’re not as anxious as you could be stressed always weighted blankets calming music, lavender oil she has it all

🩷 she more an overprotective sister than anything. She just wants to make sure they don’t have a panic attack or anything like that. She even tried to convince some of the other rings to give you something to calm down.

🩷 if you are Hellborn she’s a little more overprotective mostly because unlike the sinners you are not immortal so she’s scared that you might die

🩷 but if you are a sinner, she’s a little more lenient however, you still have to do silly little exercises for the hotel 

Vaggie

🦋 she’s overprotective she straight up does not trust you around anyone else besides Charlie and herself

🦋 she’s very overprotective she’s an angel who lost everything so she sees you as an extension of herself

🦋 she doesn’t want you to experience the same thing that she did it would ruin her

🦋 She’s not as a protective or as possessive as the others she’s more like a overprotective sister she tries to give you exercises or stress toys like Charlie

Niffty

🐞 she’s a woman from the 50s. She probably doesn’t understand anxiety so she’s her normal chaotic self which is kind of funny and helps you in anyway.

🐞 she says the most don’t allow this crap so you pretty fast so if you’re having an anxiety attack, she helps you a lot

🐞 she put on roach puppet shows whenever you’re sad

🐞 all around she’s niffty nothing much has changed 

Husk

♠️ he’s a man with mental illness too. He understands the anxiety. He understands how it could feel to feel like everything is against you.

♠️ he makes you a drink not alcoholic but a kitty cocktail or soda tries to get you some decent food however it’s just bar food so it’s not as good as it should be

♠️ he’s a little bit more protective and possessive side so he’s always side no matter what

♠️ he has killed someone before for making you sad or caused you with severe anxiety attack. He didn’t care.

Angel

🕷️ he’s a little bit more modern, but I don’t think he fully understands mental illness the way that you do

🕷️ angel tries to calm me down by giving you fat nuggets or let you lie down next to him and has a casual talk with you

🕷️ he’s a brother he’s going to be a little bit more protective than the others. He kind of sees you as a fraternal sibling someone who cares and would kill for.

🕷️ he tries to spend as much time with you as possible, even if that means you know locking you and his room 

Alastor

🦌 the same thing as nifty he’s a man from the 1920s to 30s he does not understand mental illness. He thinks it’s fake.

🦌 however he does try to put on some light jazz to calm you down or tries to get you to dance with him

🦌 he’s kind of a funky dad if funky dad had a body count actually he has given you food with body parts in it just didn’t tell you because it was hidden

🦌 you’re his kid and you’re going to have the best food possible and it will make sure it’s delicious and homemade none of that produced crap 

…………………………………………………………………………

I had fun with this one a lot!!!

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Ten — William Killick + uniform kink, dirty talk

Pairing -> dom!william killick x wife!reader

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), dom!william, sub!reader, mention of military duty, use of good girl, sir kink, captain kink, william in his uniform>>>>>

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Disclaimer: The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

“I knew you liked it,” William said sweetly, resting his forehead against yours. He cupped your cheeks in his hand, caressing it with his fingers. “I can see the way you look at me when I wear it. All bothered-like. Just want a strong man to take care of you, hmm?”

You shuddered. William was right. You did like it when he wore his uniform, especially now that you were finally seeing him against after his deployment. How was it your fault he looked so damn good in it? It complimented his skin tone, it matched his dark brown hair almost perfectly, and it outlined his body, showing that he was strong and muscular and fit. When he wore it, it was like he commanded respect, and when you were by his side, it felt like no one could hurt you, that you were under protection, William’s protection. That you were his. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, trying not to get all flustered about it. If you didn’t downplay the situation you were sure you’d be in for nights of teasing. “It just, it looks nice on you. It’s a pretty colour.”

Images of fantasies you’ve had came up in your head. You tried to push them down, but you couldn’t stop thinking about them, especially now . . . William, holding you in his arms, shielding you from the dangers of the outside world. He would command you and dominante you, but in the loveliest ways — in a caring way. In a way that said he loved you. Sometimes he’d be on top, fucking you so good, but with his uniform on. He’d ask you — no, demand you call him ‘Captain’, and you would.  

William kissed you softly, his lips brushing up against yours. “I know it is. Is this what you want?” he asked.

“What?”

“Is this what you want?” he repeated. “To make love to you in this uniform?” His hands trailed up under your shirt, aiming to touch your breasts. “I can do that. Only if you want it.”

“Yes!” you immediately said, then averted your eyes, embarrassed at how eager you sounded. “William, I want it.”

“Darling,” he cooed. He picked you up in his arms, bridal style, and carried you to the bedroom, laying you gently on the mattress. “I’ll give it you. But first we need to lay some ground rules, okay?”

You looked up at him, curious, while he unbuckled his belt. What a wonderful sight.

“It’s not William anymore,” he said sternly. “You’ll call me Captain Killick. I deserve it, don’t I? For my wife to respect my position?”

“Yes, sir.” You could feel your body getting hotter, and the area between your legs wetter.

“You’ll be obedient, too. No brattiness,” he said, as he pulled his fat cock out, “no pleas or cries. Just ‘yes, sir’, ‘I’ll do anything to please you, sir’. I’ve served you all those years out there, fighting to keep my darling girl safe, and in return you’ll serve me. On your knees with your mouth, legs spread with your cunt — whatever I ask.”

Your response was filled with lust, “Yes, sir. Whatever you ask.”

“Good girl.” He gave you a proper kiss this time, a passionate one, with his tongue sweeping over your lips and pushing its way into your mouth. He let out a muffled groan, hiking up your skirt and pulling down your panties. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he said in your ear. You hesitated. He had never taken you in that position before, but you obeyed nonetheless, waiting in anticipation.

“Ohh,” William moaned, pushing his cock into your wet pussy. He immediately started thrusting, hard and fast, without giving you a chance to adjust. 

“William!” you yelped, clutching onto the bed sheets for some stability.

He swiftly spanked your ass.

“C-captain Killick,” you corrected, little whimpers leaving your mouth. 

“Good girl. Ah, fuck — I can feel you clenching,” William said, his balls slapping against your skin, but you could also hear the sound of clothing shuffling. “Like it this much? Being—under my control? Dirty.”

You squirmed and tried to cover your wanton moans by placing your hand over your mouth, but William pinned your hands behind your back the moment he noticed what you were doing. “No, I want to hear your moans. Don’t hide them from me . . ."

He slowed his pace down and leaned over, his stomach touching your back. His thrusts were now more stiffer, and rough, pushing his way deep inside you. “Need to do this more often. Getting you so wet . . . I’ve missed you, it’s been so long since I’ve been inside of a woman.”

He cupped your bouncing breasts, pinching your nipples, eliciting a squeak out of you. “My darling wife. I love you . . . Now, stop squirming," he chastised, "and let me fuck you good."

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420 

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@henrywintersdearestgirl

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

@leonardalphachurch ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE (in reference to this post)

Donut thinks his fursona is a red wolf, all handsome charm and roguish double’o’donut vibe but NO he’s a collie to me, specifically a rough/scots collie— he’s pretty he’s fluffy, he does good work but theres nothing behind those eyes affectionately. Also he likes to be told when he’s a good boy DOING A GOOD JOB

Grif… would not make a fursona for himself, but I think Kai makes one for him a-la garfield (fat orange cat) and he appreciates the Iconic humor of it at least and u know what i do think kai is right in the cat aspect but more maine coon less garfield (still fat tho /pos)- the kind of big lazy cat that make you do a double take bc like is that a big house cat or a bobcat, ya know?

Simmons does not Want a Fursona thank you very much he’s not Weird (tm) I'm telling you, he is a chihuahua. Puntsized ball of anxiety that bites and thinks its meaner than he is(but still pretty capable of being a mean little bastard, just,, not as big of one as he thinks)

Sarge Knows his fursona is a bald eagle. Bc its American. Patriotic! Sounds like a red hawk! Even better! He’s a pitbull— big brick of a head, mean reputation, but he’s a protective kind of caring at heart and u know he’s got that Iconic pittie grin

Lopez is hard, honestly, and if you asked him youd either get No Answer, or something thrown at you i think but like his fursona is like transformer mech bullshit that no one ever wants to draw and if you commissioned it you get like 20+ complex design additional charges because the rivets have to be 100% accurate and if they arent he would Know, its not even a fursona really at this point its just a cool mech body he wont ever build bc he doesnt trust anyone else to not fucking break it but emotionally its his fursona - the fursona I assign him is a remote control warthog, bc im sorry dude but i cannot give you a proper fursona to save my life my brain just refuses to do it so, goofy shit it is

SHEILA is, wonderfully, a sea turtle. Specifically i’m partial to a leatherback for her just for the scale factor alone but just the vibe in general of just,, seat turtle fits her idk how to describe it. In character, i do think she would misunderstand the assignment and just be like “oh! Im a Scorpion” bc thats the casual term for the M808B main battle tank in halo

Church(A), like simmons, REFUSES to even Consider it (epsilon considers it a Lot okay, theta’s got some cool design concepts but keep it on the dl bud) but i think he’s gotta be idog from the early 2000s. But like an edgy one the kind that were born of 12 yearolds traced over google images of the normal ones and recolored into Original Characters (i think their shape is based on beagles iirc??? Or labs), but yeah those things. If pressed, epsilon auto answers wolf but in that asshole way that sounds like he’s being a dick about it but no thats his actual answer

Caboose is a great dane. He’s just Great like that!! Yay! Friend shaped, really not used to being uhh mindful of his size and strength but loyal and protective ya know?? He's the only one who i think would correctly clock his own fursona on the first try

Tex would claim something badass like a tiger or something, but she’s like,,, a mockingbird :) i mean it IS the state bird of texas, and well... shes not a mockery of anything but she isnt the og either, ya know

Tucker claims a fox, because he’s sly and bitches Love foxes but to me?? Bluejay. Brightly colored, loud, mean little corvid asshole. Too damn clever for his own good- i would also maybe give him peacock or kingfisher if feeling more like,, flamboyant but he just feels very jay to me. maybe its the corvid bastard thing, or the bluejay in my backyard choosing the tree by my window as prime screaming spot for 6 am yelling for like a month but the vibe is there

Kai has so many furry characters. With the worst application of color theory known to man but somehow it works for her brand??? Sparkle dogs man, the woman is made for making sparkle dogs!! If i assign her cat to match grif, it'd specifically the kind of like bengal, this cat climbs walls kind of cat you know?? Zoomies all day every day! BUt i think more accurately to Kai as a person? Raccoon. Mischief and little grabby bastard hands and she would love it

Washington, if asked would shrug and say probably a cat bc u know, nine lives and all that- no. Im sorry cat wash truthers I respect cat wash, but nah Washington is a dog boy to me im sorry and specifically he’s a little Jack Russell terrier thats fast and vicious but man sometimes u gotta remember he’s like,,, he’s smaller than a cat man you gotta give him some help ya know?? Dont make him do it alone!!!

.......Or a horse i dont know how to elaborate on that one just,,, trust me

Carolina is oblivious to the concept of fursonas almost entirely, but she’s a greyhound and you know im right

Locus is genuinely the hardest one to place and i dont think he’d come up with a fursona for himself, but he gets assigned wolf by Donut i feel it, the whole lone wolf thing he has going and all during his redemption! Which honestly???? Maybe yeah? An argument could be made for another working dog (HELLO German Shepards my god) (context here: i had a german shepard/corgi mix, he was my lil guy, he was too damn smart for his own good and patrolled the back yard fence up until he couldnt keep his hips underneath himself anymore and then! He! kept! trying! So yes that does influence my input on german shepard locus) i just struggle to see locus as a dog???? Dogs are very high energy which -gestures to red team- but locus rarely has that same baseline energy i associate with dogs??? He’s hard to pin down and i’ve yet to manage it but im partial to something arboreal,,, the first thing that comes to mind on that train of thought is a binturong and i lost it imagining that so sure we'll go with that i have a lot of thoughts about locus

Felix wouldve loved the energy of being like the lucky cat with nine lives. I personally dont care for felix, but he would be that guy with like, its not a proper fursona bc he wouldnt b caught dead calling it that, but he has a fursona for scamming people and driving up the prices on auctions for no reason other than to fuck with people when he's bored. I subscribe to weasel/ferret Felix personally, specifically a yellow bellied weasel bc theres just,, honestly the name amuses me with the implications. He’s difficult to catch and handle, energetic and gets into shit no one wants him getting to. It fits

Doyle is a mouse, maybe MAYBE a rabbit, he doesnt know what fursonas are either but he just checks the mouse box for me personally,, very holdable, but skittish and might still bite you if u scare him bad enough

Dr Emily Grey does not have a fursona but she does think theyre neat and has let her patients all give her one, tho none of them agree on what she is. I think she's a shrike, specifically a great grey shrike! they're VICIOUS little birds, who dont look like much but they regularly hunt shit twice their size and are also known for impaling bugs on thorns and like, barbed wire?? theyre neat, and technically i think they count as corvids? clever little hunting machines

Kimball is definitely a german shepard tho like while im on the fence about it for Locus, there is no question about it for her she checks the boxes fits the vibe right down to the way she guards the new republic and chorus with her heart just under her sleeve

Sharkface. Shark. I mean….really. SPECIFICALLY THO a tiger shark tho, and he would absolutely be a dick if you implied a great white or a megalodon would be “better” bc no tiger sharks are exactly the kind of shark he should be thank you VERY much

thats everyone i have STRONG fursona assignment feelings for, and some are more flexible than others or more solid in some cases but YEAH! i think about this shit. a lot sidebar: i think the chorusans who know and are open about fursonas would probably use weird alien animals from chorus when picking them which makes this harder for them specifically bc the ones who would have fursonas arent limited to earth animals

all images are from the wiki pages for the animals! except for lopez. thats from the amazon page for the warthog

[thesealantern]

I was thinking about shape anatomy, as one does, while falling asleep today…

So you know how each shape has its own unique ability? I like to believe it’s less of a magical thing and more so just because of how they’re built.

Pentagons:

•Thick, rough skin. Potentially scale like?

•Definitely have to have a different bone structure, also maybe they have some protection cushioning around their internal organs? Potentially store fat (do shapes do that?) in a different manner compared to other shapes.

•Their eyes therefore wouldn’t be protected by their skin and I like to imagine them as an Achilles heel of sorts.

•Also what if when their bones are just really good at healing micro fractions? They bones get a tiny bit damaged when they get hurt but it grows back much stronger. I know that kinda takes away the “immune to injury” aspect but like,,, only getting a tiny micro fracture in the bone after falling from a ten foot tall tree is still pretty impressive in my opinion but idk

•Also they might have a very weak nervous system as a result. Maybe their skin is so thick that nerve endings don’t reach far into it? That could be fun

•Maybe they have an open circulatory system like cockroaches… okay yeah I’m pushing it but I think that would be neat…

Spheres:

•I imagine they’re more lightweight, so probably have a much faster metabolism to accommodate that

•I think it would be cool if they had hollow bones like birds… I mean it would make them much lighter and for Iris’ almost teleportation like speed it would make sense, what if the royal family just mixed with other shapes less? Therefore their bones are more hollow giving them better super speed?

•Probably have some very specific muscles that allow them to run so fast

•Also circles and balls are just very good aerodynamically, round surfaces have less drag then flat ones so I imagine that’s another reason

•I just like hollow bone Sphere headcannon okay…

Cubes:

•I like to imagine they have heavier bones, much denser and stronger

•Also they probably have a special way their muscles grow, a higher amount of certain hormones (or whatever the shape equivalent is) that helps them grow much stronger more quickly?

•They also most likely have a unique way of storing fat, I feel like each shape has a different “most common” body type and, while there always are exceptions, it’s just the way most of them automatically develop. (Cubes would be shorter, a more “box” kind of body type [get it?] when they do develop muscles they’re more of the weightlifter/shot-putter type. Circles would be more slim and tall, usually developing mostly running muscles. And Pentagons? Idk man,, probably lean into something more similar to the Cube body type but a bit more lean? Maybe they have denser muscles [for protection] so they generally have less of them? I really don’t know…)

Also I think Monsters should have a transparent eyelid like snakes do. Because I think that’s neat. Oh! Or maybe flowers, kind of like how rabbits have a third eye-lid. They seem more vulnerable compared to the other shapes so it would make them more alert. I think that would be neat… imagine Lythorus sleeping with his eyes wide open… yeah that’s the stuff

[cleewii]

THIS IS LOVE

pairing: denji x gn!reader

rating: 16+

warning(s): violence, gore, loss and grief, reader is a morally questionable, pre-established relationship

word count: 1.4K

note: i wouldn’t consider this a completed work considering i just took a draft i had and polished it enough to be cohesive. it still needs some more work (an actual plot cough cough) but whatever. if enough people dig it i might expand on it more. i’ve just got this feeling that denji is rlly weird about crying and that’s where this came from.

I do not permit the reposting/reuploading of my work on any platform. i do not allow the use of my work for other forms of entertainment. not even with credit

if he could hold you to his heart, you’d hear the steady rhythm of life beating from within. two souls bound together in the form of this raggedy, beaten down, dirty mess of a man, covered in layers of dust, and grime, and blood. Yet, when your eyes fall upon him even if he stands a tattered wreck, all he’d see is adoration—a soft and sweet glimmer of something he’ll protect until his last dying breath.

he feels that love you have for him, with its honey golden glow, effervescent as it lays upon his skin in the form of chast kisses and a warm embrace, and he feels like he could die the happiest man in the world. so long as you’ll be there to smile so sweetly. just for him, only for him.

he’d rip apart the world in return, bury his hands deep within the sodden carcasses he’d lay at his own feet to grip at something feral and beating, just for you. all for you. always for you.

because you make him feel like he’s living, like you want him for more then what lives behind his rib cage, tasting his dreams and letting the sweetness of it all fill it until it was satisfied.

“pochita,” he’d told you, “his name s’pochita”

“yeah? how’d you meet him?”

he’d recounted everything he could remember to you that night. that sickly feeling of starvation, the dull throbbing of his head. stories followed by tragedies, even when you felt like you could cry, you let him finish. you listened.

“she killed ‘em. all’ve ‘em…i couldnt….i didnt save ‘em,” his chin falls utop his knees, arms hugging his legs to his body as he stares at the ground solemnly. the glimmer of an anguished nostalgia simmering in his eyes; he seems transfixed on burning his pain into the couch cushion underneath him. from the way he spoke about them, his family, you knew they’d meant the world to him. Maybe even more than that.

you say nothing about the tears that slip down his cheeks. nor the way his nose goes red, and his cheeks blot with watercolor grief.

you only pull him closer, letting him lean against you as he soaks your shirt in muffled sobs.

he falls asleep like that, and you follow soon after. His skin sticky with dried tears, nose and eyes rubbed raw.

he’s snoring before he can process whatever childish embarrassment he might feel about having been so vulnerable. he swallows down the weakness before giving himself the chance to chew on it. there was a realization that had replaced it—in fact—before his eye lids grew so heavy that he had to give into his body’s yearning for sleep.

He wondered, something he rarely allows himself to do, that maybe you matter to him as much as they did. it’s a thought that stays in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the night, in his dreams where the smell of you wandered like a ghost, his body curled up, pressed right against yours.

he would cry for you.

he’d known that since the first time he’d seen you covered in bruises and looking worse for wear.

you were alive, and he still cried.

it had shaken him to his core.

he didn’t notice until you pointed it out, the fat tears that trailed down his cheeks at the sight of you.

he didn’t know why, he’d felt so stupid after the fact, but that didn’t change the way he practically bawled like a baby when you’d returned home late that night, blood seeping into your shirt from the cuts that littered your skin.

you’d been attacked by a devil, you explained, and later that night, when you were safe in bed and sleeping soundly under the covers, he’d gone searching for the thing that’d hurt you.

he didn’t come back until he found it, and left it a writhing pile of stinking flesh.

you didn’t question why he came back to you bloody, or ask about the self satisfied grin he’d presented to you after the fact. you just smiled, so sweet and soft, and kissed the corner of his lips like it was the normal thing to do.

you supposed it was.

every since you’d met him, the line between moral and immoral had faded. what once made your skin crawl and stomach ache, felt like simple showers of rain during a sunny day. never completely normal—always a little too intense to handle—and not always completely welcomed, but a type of irregularity that you wouldn’t lose any sleep over.

that’s why you didn’t think too much about the metallic taste in your mouth afterwards.

that dopey smile on his face was enough for you, especially when he realized you hadn’t changed the bandaids he’d littered over your skin. mismatched, placed everywhere, some folded over themselves in his struggle to remove them from the packaging, and others overlapping each other in his haste to to dress the cuts that marred your skin.

his hands had shaken horribly, eyes red and puffy from crying, finally calming down once he’d bandaged every wound.

it should have scared him, the way he’s broken down so easily because of you. it should have swallowed him whole, filled his lungs with a smokey kind of fear that he’d suffocate in.

if death wasn’t an option, then surely that was the next best thing.

having to watch everyone else die before him.

having to watch you die.

the thought was enough to make him gag, it’s inevitability clung to his throat like a disease.

he’d held you tight, and kissed every inch of skin you’d allowed him to access that night, suddenly strengthened in the resolve he’d created moments before.

“ill protect you. won’t let anythin’ hurt you again. not ever.”

“yeah?” you giggled. maybe you shouldn’t have. there was nothing lighthearted about his declaration. it was solid, unwavering, etched into his entire being and nothing would change it.

“yeah.” he looks down, a determined furrow in his brow, “i promise.”

you stared at him, for a moment, mulling over his words, tasting them on your tounge.

then, your face had melted into a smile, and you kissed him right on the lips.

he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

“i love you, denji…” you murmured into his hair, soft blond strands tickling your cheek as you slowly drifted, your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

he had only been dozing off, fading in and out of sleep, but the moment those words left for mouth he could feel his body tremble.

you loved him.

you loved him.

he hoped, a selfish kind of hope, that you loved him as much as he did you.

it played in his head, like a broken record. repeating itself, over and over again, until he too faded into sleep.

do you love me like i love you…?

do you need me like i need you….

“ur a dream, ya know that?” he says to you one day, head lying comfortable in your lap as the two of you lounge about a chilly winter day. this was months later, summer having faded as sleet and snow covered the once lively earth.

“half the time i cant believe ur real…” he mumbles that last part, looking away from your serene gaze as if he’d melt at the sight of your eyes, eyes that were always so warm and golden.

red dusts the tips of his ears, painting over the skin of his shoulders and cheeks, you can’t help the giggle that leaves you at the sight of him all flustered and quiet.

“well m’right here aren’t i?” you smile. your fingertips brush over the ends of his blond hair.

“yeah.”

he feels warm at the thought.

still here.

he doesn’t regret crying for you.

no, in fact, he thinks if he could he’d cry every day for you. happy tears, sad tears, so long as you could hold him close and tell him it was alright. that you’d never leave him the way they did, that you’d be okay.

he doesn’t regret crying for you, because although it seemed like whenever he cried it was because he’d lost something, something precious that meant more to him then he’d care to admit, you’d managed to prove him wrong.

for once, his tears didn’t mark the end of something—of someone.

for once, he cried, and you were still here

[cremationstayshun]

Kiss with a Fist - Chreon

Summary: If one thing was certain, is that Leon S. Kennedy knows how to push buttons. Something from the beautiful man that was Chris Redfield was better than nothing, right?

Right?

Trigger Warnings: Implied sexual assault/rape

AO3

Leon sneered at the lone double bed in the hotel room. He could hear his roommate for the night lumbering in behind him.

"Well at least it's a king," Chris shrugged trying to maintain neutrality with the prickly DSO agent standing next to him. He received a scathing look as a reward for his efforts. Chris took a deep breath to simmer down his exasperation. Their flight back was delayed due to a blizzard, which was currently screaming at the windows outside. While the sleeping situation was not ideal, it was better than staying the night at the airport. As much as he tried to remain civil and gain favor with Leon, the man seemed to push back harder and harder. He looked back to the man who was eyeing up the couch against the opposite wall, his face barely giving anything away. It was enough for Chris to know what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on, are you serious?"

Sharp, blue eyes cut over to him, "what?"

"Why are you so dramatic? We can just share the bed, Kennedy."

Leon did not answer right away, but the pause was barely noticeable. A crease formed between his brows in thought and his eyes darted across the other's face before his face hardened. A vicious smirk fell over his face, instantly setting Chris on edge. He practically sauntered across the room, reminding the BSAA captain of a predator. He came up to where Chris had moved closer to the bed and met the larger man's eyes defiantly. Chris shifted quickly into defensive. He was not about to put up with the DSO agent's shit.

"You that desperate, Redfield? Valentine isn't around, so you gotta shoot your shot at the nearest warm body?"

"The fuck? That's not what I am asking for and you know it. You're so fucking difficult."

"Yeah unlike you. Evidently, it's easy to get in the pants of the great BSAA Golden Boy."

"Better than being the bitch of the DSO who crawls around for any scraps that they throw your way!" Chris' voice has risen in volume at this point, and he was chest to chest with Leon and he felt a prickling in his face as his anger grew. The little fucker remained perfectly calm with his stupid perfect hair and that just pissed Chris off more.

The calm was downright eerie when Kennedy responded, "Yeah, they fucked everything out of me like a cheap whore to keep her safe, and I let them. But at least I was able to protect her because I wasn't hung up on my boss betraying me instead of fucking me."

CRACK

Leon felt the impact but could not register the pain as he was losing his balance. The backhand sent his body into a spiral and he would blame it on exhaustion that Chris actually got a hit on him. His ribs which were bruised from their mission slammed into the arm of the couch which was barely padded. He could definitely feel the sharp edge of its frame jam into his tender flesh. He was thankful that he kept himself from making a sound. It took him a moment to breathe through the pain and when he finally looked back up Chris was hovering over him, hands up and not touching him, and his face pinched in guilt and worry. He opened his mouth, probably about to apologize or ask what he needed or some other dumb caring thing that will just make Leon love the man more. He could not let that happen when he was already so vulnerable. He easily cut the other off, still keeping his cocky persona, "That all you got? I've been hit harder while getting railed on some nice fat cock."

It’s like your pretty boy face was made to be bruised, kid. 

The man cycled through many emotions which were etched clearly in his expressions. Shock, confusion, a strange grimace that Leon couldn't read, and then a grim determination that almost made the smaller man regret his words. Chris pulled him up easily by the front of his shirt. Grip so tight, that Leon can hear the fabric creaking in strain. His eyes burned with a frightening determination. His gaze flicked down to Leon's mouth, but he made no move to press his own against them. He took his other hand and shoved three thick fingers past those slightly parted lips and down his throat, making the DSO agent gag and moan around them. Fuck. Yes. His tongue quickly worked against the digits, trying desperately to memorize Chris' flavour since this will likely be his only chance with how furious the man seemed. His breath was being cut off in a delightful way and he decided then that he would take whatever he got tonight.

"You're right about one thing at least. You really are a cheap whore huh?" He pulled his fingers out of Leon's throat. He coughed and gasped for air, his legs shaking with arousal and something he couldn't quite explain. Drool dripped down his chin but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked up at Chris through hazy vision. The other man looked harsh, cold in a way he had never seen before. Leon's entire body trembled, help up only by the hand gripping his shirt. Leon was struggling with catching his breath, but Chris didn't seem to care, "absolutely pathetic. The great Leon S. Kennedy is such a slut that it just takes the promise of cock to make him listen."

Leon's world tipped off balance as Chris shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress. The plushness off it was a pleasant surprise but he did not have enough time to think about it as Chris' voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Strip."

Leon stared up at the other man for a moment, absently not believing this was happening. Chris, however, was out of patience, "Strip or I'll cut them off."

You’ll do anything to be stuffed full on a nice dick.

The threat was very serious from what Leon could tell. He scrambled up onto his knees and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Apparently, the man was really fed up. As soon as the buttons were undone, he yanked the material down to Leon's wrists and deftly twisted it so that the man was trapped. He could easily get out if he tried but before he could he was pulled down the bed with the force of the tugs on his pants and boxers. He was quickly exposed to chilled air drafting from the windows. He wasn't sure if it was that or Chris fully clothed and towering over him that caused shivers to wrack through his body. He figured he probably went from predator to prey for the other man, his eyes wide and anxiety forming deep in his gut. It was quickly forgotten, though, as he was flipped onto him stomach and his ass pulled into to air. He tugged at the shirt tangled around his wrists. Leon managed to free then but not without leaving friction burns behind.

"Spread your legs." The command was simple, and Leon could not do anything but obey. Apparently, it wasn't good enough and Chris took a moment to jerk Leon's legs further apart, forcing him to bow his back unnaturally. He knew Chris was still fully clothed and that did so much to make Leon feel even more vulnerable beneath him. A large hand grabbed one cheek and spread it to expose the tight pink hole there. The feeling of cold air sending another shiver through his body. He had to force himself to remember that this was the only way Chris would touch him. He gasped as a dry thumb pushed against the tight ring of muscle, forcing it open. The dry pull of it thrusting in and out soon followed and Leon had to clench his jaw to hold in the sounds that wanted to pour out. He realized he was painfully hard which caused his face to redden. The flow of blood warring between flowing north and south made him dizzy. He felt like everything was swaying around him, adrift at sea and lost in the own torrent of his mind. The sharp pain of Chris' other thumb pushing into him was like the beam from a distant lighthouse.

You’ll spread your legs for anyone, won’t cha?

"If I didn’t already know how much of a slut you are, I do now that I see how loose your cunt is."

Leon could barely believe the words coming out of Redfield's mouth. They were filthy and caused the thump of his heart to be deafening. Leon hadn't had sex since-- well it's been a long time. Either way the words still made feel cheap and dirty, but the arousal was undeniable. In his embarrassment there was no words that he could say to fight back.

"Bet a whore like you doesn't even need lube."

He didn't take the words seriously until he felt Chris lean forward and spit harshly onto his spread hole. He wanted to cry but would not allow himself. As much as he did like it rough at times, this is not what his first time with Chris was like in any of his fantasies. This Chris was someone that he had only seen directed at his most heinous enemies. He was ripped out of thoughts when the larger man pulled his thumbs from his hole and quickly replaced them with three thick fingers. It was all too much at once and the sound that tore from his throat was a strange mix of a moan and sob. He rested his cheek on the bed and breathed raggedly through the painful stretch, pleasure still burning through his veins despite everything. He was given a few rough thrusts that provided no pleasure before they were yanked out.

Tense silence pervaded the room only disrupted by Leon’s ragged breath and the jingle of a belt being unbuckled. Leon could barely move except a slight adjustment to be able to watch Chris over his shoulder, sure the other man could see how much of a mess he was. The larger man’s eyes were impossibly dark, and lust was clear even through harsh downturn of both his brows and lips. The anger was clearly visible. Leon swallowed even though his mouth and throat had long gone dry.

C’mon comrade, I know a slut like you can take it. Don’t you disappoint me, now. 

"Fuck, Kennedy," the words were punched out between thrusts and clenched teeth, the man below him practically sobbing into his arm. Leon felt like he had lost time somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the miasma that was his psyche. His heaving chest was pressed into the bed and hips held in the air by a bruising grip. He was tight, not prepared nearly enough before he has speared on the obscenely large cock of one Chris Redfield. He practically wailed when a large hand came down on his ass.

"You just can't shut the fuck up, can you?"

The words pierced through his haze and doused him in shame.

"Such a whore. Bet you'd let anyone fuck you," Another harsh slap. He had stopped thrusting at the bruising intensity as he leaned down and pushed his mouth near Leon's ear, "You get passed around the office as a cocksleeve? I bet the reason you won't shut that slutty mouth is cause you need a dick down your throat to satisfy you."

I always knew you were mouthy. How ‘bout I teach you how to use it?

Cold was creeping through Leon, taking over the pleasured delirium he was previously in. Chris' comforting warmth, despite the previous harsh treatment, (and really that was Leon's fault anyway) was replaced with a familiar and oppressive weight of a body on top of him, taking what it wants. He wanted it to stop. His throat had closed, and it felt like his jaw was wired shut. He couldn't get a sound out. What had felt so euphoric moments ago speeding towards nightmarish. His chest was tight. He couldn't breathe. Was he even breathing? A hand on the space between his head and neck pushed him deeper into the bed and terror alike. He couldn't even fight back. This is what he had wanted wasn't it? He decided to piss Chris off and goad him into sex. Of course, the man would be rough. He hated Leon and he wanted the mouthy agent just to shut the fuck up.

When Leon tried to speak, all he could get out was a thready and pathetic whimper. He felt so small and weak with spots dancing in front of his eyes. He still couldn't tell if he was breathing, focus having closed in to racing thoughts and flashing memories. Rough, battle worn hands, a gun pressed to the back of his head then those hands around his throat pushing him down, a cold gravelly voice in his ear.

That's it comrade. You're so loose, you fuckin’ cocksleeve.

"Leon?"

Chris had been working up into a good rhythm, enjoying watching the gorgeous agent beneath him squirm on his cock. He never thought he would have a day when he would be able to fall into bed with Leon S. Kennedy of all people. Well, it was more like he had pushed the man, but it seemed that he liked it rough and mean and Chris was trying his best to do that for him. His concentration was broken by a small sound from below him. It sounded different from his previous noises, without a hint of pleasure. It was like ice went through his veins as he looked at his bedpartner.

Leon was barely moving. He was practically panting, and his breath wheezed out of him harshly. His eyes were distant and unfocused with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Blood oozed from his lip where he seemed to have bitten it at one point. Chris instantly loosened his grip on the back of Leon’s head as his protective instincts took over. This clearly was not right to him. Even if he had never been with Leon in such an intimate way before, it felt off. He pulled out from the man, dick already softening as his panic overtook him. When he released Leon’s hip he fell limply against the bed. It reminded Chris sickeningly of a marionette with its strings cut.

“Leon?” He crawled up the bed to lean over the man. He did not seem to notice Chris. He tried calling his name again, but there was no response. He lifted his hand to place it on Leon’s shoulder, and before he could the man flinched violently, another small whimper whistling from his throat. His gaze locked on the larger man’s form. Chris still was not sure that Leon was completely seeing him. He reached out again, this time carefully telegraphing his movements. He could tell that the other was tracking his movements sluggishly with his eyes, but the flinch when Chris made contact was much more subtle.

He just rested his hand on Leon’s shoulder and let the man work through his panic with silent support. It took a painfully long time for the smaller man’s breathing to slow to a even a marginally reasonable pace. Chris didn’t think he was fully back to the present, but the panic seemed to dull enough for him to be comfortable with bundling Leon against him. He ripped the blanket from where it was tucked into the bed as an afterthought and wrapped it around both of them. Leon hadn’t lashed out or freak out more, which Chris decided to take as a good sign. He settled in to wait for Leon to come back to reality, the silence leaving space for an unbearable guilt.

[heatofember]

reply from this.

Edward didn't normally went to bars af often but one night he decided to go with a few friends of his owns. Wearing a lovely black suit and tie that hugs his muscular form, the mage enjoyed the atmosphere until someone catches his eyes. A very lovely blacked dressed women that shows a pair of melons. He eyes her figure up and down as he thinks for a moment... how can he approach her... soon his friend cought wind of what he is seeing and assist him.

With their numbers dwindling, the mages friend picked the blacked dressed womens one by one until she is all alone. With this chance he takes it as he joins her at the bar.

Ordering a few drinks as he chatted, he buttered the women up as well as calming her nerve with some drinks. At the end he succeeded and only feeling tipsy, he advances even more.

Whispers flirting here and there, risky touching and feeling soon a sneaky passionate kiss between them. As things heated up, he suggested to go back to his place and luckily she agreed.

Time was a blur but he is still in control and is leading into this session. As they reach to the bedroom, his greedy hand unzip and undoes the women's outfit and scarring it onto the floor. He kisses her deeply and passionately, letting his tongue dance as it dominated the scene.

Undoing all of her undergarments to display that amazing finger of hers, Edwards hand roams around to have a feel of what he is working with. Giving her ample breast a squeeze, that ass of hers a firm spanking and teasing her wet pussy he loves what he is having tonight~.

Now showing of his body, the mage places her on all fours as he teases the tip of her entrance. He would put protecting but the lustful side of him takes over as he wanted to feel her rawr, even if its a dangerous day he can simply pull out or ask her to take a pill... even so the thought of knocking her up is quite hot~.

A moan escape his lips as he enters in, his fat cock streches her wide breaking that hymen of hers as the tips kisses deeply into her cervix. One hand places her lips as he made her bounce in and out of his fat cock. Once she is used to the motion, his hand lets go of that cervy body of hers as he lets her put in work and go on her pace.

Fuck she was tight and knowing that he will mold this pussy of hers only fits him pleased the mage. Giving a lovely spank, leaving a red hand print he spoke with a raspy voice and a moan fallowing after.

" Fuck girl~ You are god damn tight. Don't worry if you don't to get knocked up I can simply pull out... however if you want me to be your mans, you better beg and moan for it alright~" with a faint chuckle he slaps the other side of her cheeks. Gods he is wanting to pound her into the bed so bad but given that its her first time he resisted such an urge.

@etchina-danjon

[bestfictionalplant]

Prelim Polls: Warhammer 40k

2 will go through, propaganda under cut

Spiker: The Spiker is a type of plant found on many Death Worlds, such as Catachan. They are considered by many to be one of the most dangerous plant forms in the entire galaxy. Spikers are vaguely cylindrical in shape, and tend to be man-sized, about 2 meters tall and upright. They are covered with a thick layer of hair-like leaves, out of which protrude the countless thin, sharp spikes that give the plant its name. These spikes, which are fired at nearby animal forms, are what make this plant dangerous. Piercing the skin of an animal, they release a mutagenic chemical into the bloodstream that reforms the victim's body into that of a Spiker. A human taking a spike in the arm will soon find his arm become hairy and immobile, and within a short time his whole body will be covered in spikes. Although the victim remains mobile for some time, the physiological changes destroy the mind, so that the victim wanders aimlessly and is unable to react to the horrifying process. Eventually all mobility is lost, and the host completes his transformation into a Spiker.

Breathweed: Breathweed (Parasitus Respirare) is a type of organism found on Catachan. It is unclear if Breathweed is a plant or fungus, but it is known to grow on the side of tree trunks and resemble a vine. If something brushes against the weed, it dissolves into a cloud of airborne spores which if inhaled, will attached itself to the tongue. At this stage it appears no more than a small blister, but left alone for a day or two it will absorb into the tongue and vanish from sight. Over the subsequent weeks the spore eats the tongue from the inside, growing until it has eventually taken the place of the hosts original tongue. The host has no idea the tongue itself is a growing parasite that absorbs more nutrients that pass over it while producing more spores. The host gradually wastes away and dies; and as they take their final breath the pseudo-tongue dissolves, releasing spores it has grown to seed new weeds.

Brainleaf: The Brainleaf[1a] (also referred to as the "Grey Vine" or "Slave Vine") is native to Catachan and appears to be a small tree. It has a rudimentary animal brain with the lowest level of intelligence and appears to be able to control animals and humans through attaching its leaves to them. The leaves can float away from the tree for many metres using a wing-like undulation, but when they come into contact with a creature, the nerve bundles in the leaf attach themselves and grow throughout the victim's nervous system, effectively taking them over. The Brainleaf can then make use of the creature and its abilities. There is another variant of Brainleaf that appears as a grey, hairy vine wrapped around a tall object. When prey gets too close to the vine, it will reach down and attach a leaf to the back of the creature's neck. The fibers in the leaf then quickly burrow into the spinal chord of the victim, reducing a victim to a brainleaf thrall. The Brainleaf uses its victims to protect itself, and propagate its young. Victims have no intelligence, often lacking the motor skills to use primitive weapons. To protect the Brainleaf, the Brainleaf Thrall will charge at anything that gets too close and beat it with whatever appendages it has. The Brainleaf can be removed from a victim, though it is incredibly dangerous to the victim. If they aren't killed by the agonizing procedure, they will suffer permanent nerve damage. 

Feculant Gnarlmaw: The Warp-flora feature an enormous mouth that run up the centre of their trunks, with dozens of razor-sharp teeth lining it, while the few stunted branches that grow from Gnarlmaws feature Plague Bells, tentacles and pustulent boils. They also gather clouds of fatted Plague Flies around them and the base of the Gnarlmaws' trunks are linked with the skulls of those who have been foolish enough to venture near them. And while they normally reside within the Garden of Nurgle, the Warp-flora will rapidly sprout up outside of of his realm, wherever a large number of the Chaos God's Daemons are congregating or Nurgle's most grievous foulness reigns. On the battlefield they aid the Plague God's armies, as the Feculent Gnarlmaws belch clouds of Daemonic spores and shed rot-wet blossom to carpet the maggot-churned earth beneath their boughs. They also exude an aura of supernatural disease and the dull tolling of the Gnarlmaws' Plague Bells, draws Nurgle's Daemons to the battlefield in swarms.

[dearlymrme]

Gotta Catch Them... (Copia)

Summary: The headcanons nobody asked for that I'm gonna do anyway. What are the Papa's Pokémon?

I threw in this little bit. Every Papa has what can be called their 'mascot' Pokémon. The one present in all the interviews and magazine covers, and making stage appearances. Their starters are not necessarily their mascots, simply which on their team best represents them.

Also, every Papa has become a Papa in more way than one. In an effort to better prepare them for progeny, they are given an egg that hatches into a pre-evolved form. Can't let his Prime Mover do all the work. It's also to instill this idea of paternity as more than just status to the members of the church.

What happened to Papa's Pokémon after their death? The rumors are they were donated to the Clergy or simply just released. They could be sitting on a shelf in the crypt with their respective Papa's bodies. I can tell you one thing. They all put up a fight.

Copia's Pokémon are free-ranged and not often if ever in their Pokeballs. They are extremely friendly and will often be found either lazing around him or where he frequents.

Starter. He would be so lucky that his started had been blue. He had been given Eevee as a way of saying he had so much potential. Eevee was, of course, loved to pieces. He knows how to play video games! His ribbons are very dexterous, and he can manage a simple game of Pong and Frogger. Catch this big bunny hogging Copia's couch and his lap. Very docile, does not like to fight. Will probably be the easiest one to go down when it comes time for Copia's Pokémon to disappear.

Found in the previous Abbey Copia lived in. He is very gentle and skirts after in Copia's shadow all the time. Had a kind of Coyote VS Roadrunner relationship with Terzo's Pikachu for a while. He was the Coyote. Irony at its fittest that he is the mascot of Copia's legacy.

Raised from an egg, and she loves him dearly. Copia was granted a shiny stone for her soon after his first hit as Papa. Has this habit of trying to brood on him when he is stressed. Catch his hair full of feathers some days when she rests on his head during naps. She is always on his bed and loves nesting in his mountain of pillows. Very friendly and an absolute mother hen, funny how the she has gone from his baby to his mother.

Very fat from Copia spoiling him so often. A huge heckin' chonker. He likes sitting on his shoulder, and when feeling playful, he nibbles his ears. He used to be able to fit in Copia's pocket, but he couldn't anymore. He has his vengeance by nibbling holes in the man's jeans and knawing at his furniture and drywall.

As a child, Copia was lonely in the Abbey he grew up in. Because of his eye and obvious relationship with Nihil, he was ostracized by his peers. And then one day a quiet girl appeared and played with him, for the longest time he thought she was another child of the Abbey but it was this Zorua who took pity on his loneliness. They have been inseparable since.

She has shown up twice. Once before, the Papa's were murdered and again now. She's wild, but there is no denying that she is his. She terrifies him of the future to come. He's thankful for the warning. He gets the warning, but she won't leave him alone and just serves to give him increasing anxiety of his ticking clock. Maybe trying to protect him and maybe just enjoying making him paranoid.

[bitchin-witchin]

Was recently reminded of a fatuichi wip I had from may that's like underground crime syndicate fatui modern au or something and childe is a dancer.

The tsaritsa owns a club where they launder shit and the fatui can hang, maybe the dancers there are under her protection. Childe was taken in as an agent and moved up the ranks, but before he became a harbinger he saw the good money the dancers were making and wanted to take a shot at it, since he got into the criminal scene to get money for his family anyways. Then it turns out to be kind of fun and the fatui are always respectful bc the tsaritsa has them on a short leash and disrespect isn't tolerated. He enjoys the feeling, a different thrill from battle, but similar.

The man of the night is a gunner I named dalimil. It is his birthday! And he is at the club with his homies. He thinks they're just drinking and chillin, as most fatui in the club do tbh, but his friends (a vanguard and some sort of smalll skirmisher) get him a lap dance and it is with... childe!! WHO MAYBE IS ALSO THEIR BOSS? I haven't decided.

Now Dalimil is a fat guy. He's a gunner. And he's p chill but we all have insecurities ykno. So he's not super confident. Hes kind of body shy. But childe is like very comfortable in his body (it's a weapon, a tool that he has trained hard to be at its best so ofc he is proud. It's not even a like "I'm so attractive" it's literally just from how useful he's made himself) and he's not perfect either, like yes every playable character in genshin is pretty but flaws are fun so idk attach whatever flaws u want to childe. I like to give him discolored teeth and maybe they're crooked, has a gap. Basically I give him my teeth LOL. Some other stuff. Scars, etc.

So anyways they're in their private room and childe starts dancing for him, climbs onto his lap and he really has to like CLIMB bc this man is tall and one of his thighs is like the width of childe (pretending that the big skirmisher builds are not augmented and they're just actually that big. Some eremite enemies are v big and they don't have any visual hints of being augmented so let's say the body variety in teyvat just has an insane range LOL). Dalimil is very flustered by how small he makes the harbinger look on his leg man's is discovering his size kink. Even sitting on him childe still has to look up. And childe is tall! He's not tiny. But dalimil is also very conscious of his stomach touching the harbinger bc it comes out pretty far and he's like ahh man ykno like my friends put me up to this, does childe even like this, he's probably just acting, etc.

Childe plays eith the buttons of his top and sees dalimil kind of clamming up so he's like "wanna get comfortable and lose some layers?" And dalimil is like ahh hmm noo it's okay... and childe is like catching on now so he's like "you don't have to hide from me. I want to see. I'm here to make you feel good." But he doesn't like pressure him ykno if dalimil said no he'd be like sure its fine, but if he's open to talking about it then maybe they can work something out.

So maybe childe just opens his shirt slowly. Dancing and stuff while he does it, rubbing his hands over dalimils chest and through his hair. And honestly?? Now dalimil is getting worked up feeling childes body rub over his stomach sometimes while he dances like fucckkkk, the skinnier guys don't get that privilege you know? Ethically bypassing no touching rule. LOL. Anyways they both end up super into it and dalimil comes out of that room more assured that he is desirable now that he's gotten some proof :3.

Ofc u don't need proof to feel desirable but if you're insecure about it it is definitely helpful when it feels positive for you. Also yes, not every fat person is insecure, and not every fat character has to be written that way, but it's what I want for my fic as a fat person myself.

I also I have a playlist for this fic that I occasionally still add song to

If u don't have Spotify and want to listen let me know in replies or reblogs or tags and I will post a other source.