#i taught him how to crawl.

[painted--constellations]

i keep having these dreams that my little brother comes to see me and he isn’t mad at me and i just. hug him and cry.

[scatteredcloud]

Do you think he has a curl care routine ? (I think he should)

Draw Kabru with curly hair cowards!!!!

[slvttyplum]

you ever have dick so good that you’re literally running from it. tears in your eyes, lumps on lumps of sobs crowding in your throat and suguru holding your hands behind your back still slamming into you. 

“take it like you're supposed to, baby. do it for me.” slapping your ass and slamming into you again, a sob crawling up your throat and your body shaking uncontrollably with this overwhelming pleasure. 

he knew where your weak spots were, where you broke down easily, and where you itched to have more of. that's why he was going to give it to you—give it to you until you were physically numb. suguru wasn’t going to stop until he saw your body lying still on the mattress. 

suguru wanted to twist you around and put you in different positions so he could see his pretty baby cum on his dick but you weren’t take it well, your back arching and your muffled sobs into the mattress. 

he had to keep your wrists in his hands or you weren’t going to finish soon, his hand squeezing your wrist and his other one trailing over your back up to your chin, pulling you back into your chest. 

"come on, baby. what’s going on today? i thought you wanted to be my good girl.” his hips pushing into your ass harder and harder, his soft breath tickling your ear, and the tip of his dick pressing deeper inside of you. 

another sob coming up and tears running down your face—he couldn’t say he didn’t admire the sight. he loved when you cried from overstimulation, but all he was thinking about at that moment was making sure you took in what he was giving you. 

he could feel you squeeze around; the feeling of your soft insides clamming onto him made him feel good. he almost wanted to crawl inside of you, but you didn’t deserve it. 

you didn’t deserve his cum being leaked inside of you, so if he had to hold himself back for a couple more minutes or just not cum, then that’s what he would do. 

“suguru i can’t take it.” your sobs more vocal, your back is arching even more, and your eyes are squeezing shut with more warm tears rolling down your face

it felt like a fiery pit in the bottom of your stomach every time he made you take him. Even though you couldn’t, it’s not like you could run away or fake your way out of it. 

suguru knew you inside out, literally. he knew how good you were feeling, your nipples peeking up as your ass was pushing against him; it’s like your body was telling him to just do whatever he wanted to make you take it. 

“remember what i taught you.” whispering in your ear and slamming into you again, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto your back, he could feel you clamp around him, a moan sliding past your lips and little whines after. 

cooing in your ear then pulling your arms back some more while slamming into you again and again, feeling his cum leak into you little by little. 

that’s how he liked to cum, when you were squeezing the cum out of him. 

if you were running and crying, scratching the sheets, trying to get away, suguru was going to pull you, restrain you and make you take it; he didn’t play. 

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[sttoru]

.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it’s late at night and you try to cuddle with sukuna. keyword; try.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. fluff, angst (+comfort). heian era. size difference (readers referred to as small). sukuna’s a bit mean, but he also has a soft spot for you. miscommunication ? it gets solved. reader gets called ‘woman, doll’.

“what are you trying to do?” sukuna sighs. you’re up to something again, he figures. his red eyes follow your body as it crawls up to him on the bed.

you’re both tired after a long day of fulfilling some duties here and there around the estate. all you need is a big beefy man wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm and safe.

the perfect man for that is sukuna. those four arms of his wrapped around your small body feel like heaven.

“it’s called cuddling,” you retort. the sarcastic tone you used triggers a deep sigh from the sorcerer. sukuna holds back the urge to say something sarcastic as well.

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

. . he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him. the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it would be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still cannot fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence. his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

thus, it hurts. when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said. you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you. you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

the sorcerer doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

“you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other could follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head. your eyes are fixed on the back of your lover. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response. you whine at that, “put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is.

sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oh, you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity. the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away. he leans in and bites your lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you. ‘that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him�� the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[seranextdoor]

tw. dark content, brief gory descriptions, smut, size difference.

pairing. mr. crawling x fem! reader. 1k words.

- i wish there was more on blissful love life end route, wish i couldve fuck this cute little shyt until he blabberin' :p i love this gameeeeeee! sorry for suddenly writing about homicipher after months of ghosting u guys.. hehe...

The smell of death lingers in the air ever since you brought along the certain entity to the overworld. It's faint enough to let you know that he was watching.

Not that you mind, he practically latched onto you like a barnacle the first time he met you at that strange hallway. Mr. Crawling, despite the oddities that comes along his unique charms, was a pleasant companion. Maybe it's the fact that you'd noticed the dark figure, slouching at the corner of your room, or the fact that you'd woke up with him next to you, the high-pitched giggling causing you to stir awake at the darkest hour.

You wonder if Mr. Crawling gets bored at times. You can't blame him, the underworld where he is from an endless maze with sharp corners here and there, not to mention the occasional earthquakes that change the layout of the map. Comparing his world to your little apartment was laughable. Maybe that's why you started feeling his cold fingertips running underneath the thin fabric of your clothes. Not that you'd stop him, Not that you want him to anyway. You taught him a few things, mainly how humans express their love. It's nice to have someone dote on you for bringing them a bowl of fresh human flesh.

'It's better to be with Mr. Crawling,' you thought.

Being with a human means it'll increase the chance of you getting caught and you wouldn't be able to go on another killing spree. At least Mr. Crawling accepts you for who you are.

"You... like?" his croaky voice puts your running thoughts to the side as you tilt your head, your eyes looking at him before they avert down to his wandering hand. His fingers are abnormally slender with a grayish tint as he slowly brushed them on your stomach before they went lower and lower until his fingers practically hovered over your lower body. He gives you a look, "need you." he points down at your clothed pussy, your cheeks quickly warms up at his words.

"Can touch?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His fingers trembled the more he waited for your response like he itched to touch you. "Can." you give him a brief nod as his fingers slowly slipped under your shorts, spreading your folds before he pressed down on your clit causing your breath to hitches. You watched with staggered breathing as his hand moved in a circular motion, rubbing your clit slowly as your sopping hole clenched around nothing. "Good? Enjoyable?" he asked, giggling when you gasped and nodded at his words while he traced your slit, getting your juices all over his nimble digits.

His kisses are sloppy, and the metallic taste of blood from the flesh he consumed for dinner comes in as the aftertaste when you pull back for some air. Mr Crawling quickly chases after your lips, pressing his cracked and cold ones on yours as his tongue shamelessly swirls around yours. With enough juices coating his fingers, he easily slipped it into your entrance as it squelches, his other hand holding your thigh to keep your legs spreading. “Look down,” he pulled his fingers out with a small pop, proudly showing his wet and pruney fingers to you before he slipped them into his mouth. “heh, good. Me happy!” he giggled, moving on top of you as you rested your legs on each side of his body.

“Mr. Crawling...” you whined, watching him with blurry vision as he pulled the black clothing up, just enough for his cock to peek through. It's almost as if the entity wants you to see it, wants you to see how desperate he is. His pre-cum glistens and gather at the tip of his cock, bulging vein runs on the side of his shaft as your eyes shifts to the patch of dark hair on his pelvis. His knees dig into the mattress, his hand aligning the tip of his cock into your entrance. “Me... go into you slow.” he gently prods your hole with the tip of his cock, shifting his eyes on your face and down to your pussy as he pushes his thick cock past the ring of muscles.

You wince, the girth of his cock is stretching you to the maximum. "Hurt? Pain? Desire me go out?" he asked, looking down at you before you shook your head at his question, "I'm glad." he smiled at your reaction. Your fingers holding onto his biceps as your nails left crescent marks on his skin. "Pat, pat." he rubs your head, cupping your cheek as his cock throbs inside of you when your velvety walls flutters to adjust to his size. "Pretty." he whispers, leaning down to peck your lips. He lets you roll your hips, slowly fucking yourself into his fat cock while he holds your hip. "Like this? Happy?" he asked, his hips stuttering as he thrust back into you, matching your slow rhythm.

"Like it..." you replied, breathless as he began to pick up his pace. He was consistent, the tip of his cock brushing against the spot that sends you seeing stars on your ceilings with every single thrust, your nails raking down on his back, leaving claw marks which heals up as quickly as it came. The sound of skin slapping reverberates around the walls as Mr. Crawling gasps and pants in your ear each time he desperately slammed his cock into you. His long, black locks falling over your face, tangling with your hair and sticking to your forehead and chest. “Like you... Like this..." he chants, sharp teeth nibbling on your neck and down to your collarbones, leaving a trail of dark bruises in his wake.

“Close... me close,” his thick cock throbs inside of you, rubbing furiously against your walls as he holds your hips. His breath brushing against your lips as he gasped, “Come? Need you come," he begged, slobbery tongue poking out to flicks your swollen lips as he coaxed you into cumming on his cock by sharply rutting his cock inside of you as the lewd squelches from taking his cock deeper and deeper increases.

He pushes his hips into you when you came all over his cock, he quickly pushes his cock as deep as he can before his hot seeds spill into your womb, spilling out of your whole when he pulled out to rest his cock on your pelvis. He's still cumming, spurting the strings of loads on your stomach as you panted, your chest heaving up and down as he lazily kisses your neck and up to your flushed face,

"...Pretty."

[slamminslamminmcgill]

aaaaaaa i need poly deadclaws smoke session 🥺😵‍💫💖 you and wade being cringy stoners ripping wade's gravity bong together and logan walks in on you sitting in his lap on the couch.

"hey, honey badger, welcome home! aw, poor baby, you look so tired! you wanna hit?"

"the fuck are you two doing?"

“it’s called a gravity bong! a hallmark of stoner engineering! would you like a demonstration?”

"no."

“too bad.” wade puts the lighter in your hands, then squeezes them for encouragement. “show him, babes, just like i taught ya.”

you spark the lighter and carefully angle it into the bowl at the top. once it's lit, you grab the inner bottle and slooowly pull it upwards out of the water. the cloud inside it grows thicker, denser, bigger. it swells with the accompanying sounds of water underneath it. glug. glug. glug.

wade explains the mechanics to logan, “now THAT, boo boo bear, is about 2-liters of toke-a-cola right there. almost as fun as when they had cocaine in the recipe.” wade sneaks his hands under your baggy lounge shirt to pinch and pull your nipples, then gives you an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. he purrs his instructions to you. “chug it, honey-cunt.”

you rip the bowl out of the bottle, the smoke billowing out through the spout, and slurp it up as you sink the bottle down into the water. of course, the torrential cloud you had built was at LEAST 2-player content. you started coughing about a third of the way down, and wade had to take over.

“i got it, i got it!” he proclaimed, valiantly chugging what was left of the cloud. he blew some out and sighed with pleasure. “now… this kind of bong gives you… gives you BIG hits. so you get stupid fast.”

you nod in agreement, a hazy, air-headed smile on your face, “it also feels REALLY good for sex…”

"well, shit, why the hell ain't you lead with that?" logan climbs over the back of the couch and sits down next to you two. "give it here. show me how you work that thing.”

also i just KNOW logan gets giggly when he smokes weed it’s a fact god told me. he’s got cigar lungs so he takes to the gravity bong with surprisingly little coughing, but FUCK it makes him STUPID!!!! he gets super touchy feely too and he’ll prolly crawl on top of both of you.

“nngh, c’mon, lemme…” he grumbles, pawing for the bong that wade holds out of reach, “lemme hit it again…”

“i think the fuck not, babe! you will wait your turn in the rotation just like everyone else, young man!”

logan blows a raspberry at him and flops over to wade’s side. “pfft… bitch…”

“yes, sir, and that’s why you love me.”

he watches longingly as wade takes his rip, until his focus shifts to your shorts riding up on your thighs.

“hey. c’mere, boy.”

he tugs you into his lap and starts making out with you, stripping you from your comfy clothes, grinding his bulge up into your folds. you whimper, under your breath, and logan smirks, teasing you in hushed tones.

“ ‘s good, right?”

“mhm…”

“you gettin’ wet now?”

“mhm!”

once wade blows his smoke out, he notices what’s going on and gasps in mock offense.

“are you two seriously excluding me right now? what am i, ugly, or somethi—? wait, don’t answer that, i—“

“yes.”

“yep. knew that was coming. can’t even blame ya. i set you up for that one. anyway!”

wade pulls you to him by your hair and smooches your cheek affectionately before putting the lighter in your hands again.

“your turn, sweetie pie!”

and by the end of that rotation everyone’s clothes are off and you’re all touching each other’s junk 😌

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. ���Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[daritskaya]

I'm rewatching merlin, and it's actually crazy how quickly and without any doubt arthur trusted merlin already in the second episode of season 1. (Sir Valiant episode)

he was interested in Merlin from the beginning because Merlin was being a cocky jerk, and he's like… this guy has no respect for me, he should be taught to crawl on his knees, but he has the guts to be a jerk! that's impressive. being a jerk like that requires honesty. he's honest. I can't help but trust him.

Arthur seems genuinely heartbroken when he can't prove merlin's words, and he's furious at being dishonored and kicks merlin out, but he still believes merlin told the truth, and he goes into the tournament ready to die

Like I said, crazy.

[diy-dynamite]

Blissful Love

Mr. Crawling x Pregnant Reader || BLISSFUL LOVE LIFE ENDING

Requested by anon in my dms :3

I didn't know how to do this in story mode so I'm just doing this in the bullet point way idk what it's called 😭

Anyway since it's pregnancy I guess it's a fem reader bc I don't do mpreg. And idk much ab pregnancy so I chose not to include anythimh about the birthing process HELP . Hope this is fine!!

Mr. Crawly here does NOT remember the meaning of pregnancy, so you had to remind/teach him...

You: "... have human. Here." *points at his tummy*

Him: "oh! You hungry??"

It'll take you a good 2 hours until you give up. He won't understand it too much until he notices your stomach grow

Him: "Why... big?"

You: "BOY..????"

You had to hold up pictures for him to see. Like you nearly considered quitting being a serial killer and became a teacher instead because you had to scoop in the back of your mind to remember your old biology classes in order to teach him.

With the help of patience, painkillers, and a PowerPoint presentation with 41 slides, he finally gets it.

Turns out that he DOES know what pregnancy is. He just didn't know the term for it since recreating and respawning don't exactly exist amongst him and his kind.

He'd be the type to call it (your stomach) "little me", and would 100% be the kind of guy to lean his ear against it to try to hear his little one.

Whenever he does, he chirps and laughs. "Baby!" He'd squeal in the human tongue because you taught him so. "My baby!"

Later on, you couldn't go out and kill because of the baby. You never felt major pain, since the baby barely kicked—probably the effect of having a no-longer-human being as the father—but if you went out and killed, you'd be dragged down by what was growing inside you.

You'd think he was too kind to kill for a meal, and you'd think right. He just ate whatever raw, bloody animal meat you had leftover in the fridge. He didn't mind it—as long as you were alright.

His senses were already heightened when you weren't pregnant, so it'd just shoot through the roof now that you are.

If you want guests over, that's too bad. He's on FULL lockdown mode and WILL bite anyone who tries to intrude on your shared space.

Overall, he's a solid 9/10, just -1 because you had to put yourself through those high-school days where presentations were your sole responsibility.

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #3 ; throat training w nanami kento .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

last night, i gave kento a blowjob / head ! it was terrible, though, and i’m surprised he didn’t hate it! it was my first time — i was spluttering all over the place and messed up his pants >< so embarrassing! i’m embarrassed to even reminisce back to the scene! i dunno . . i think, maybe he liked it because he kept groaning (?) and i swear it was growing harder and harder in my mouth each time i choked. i heard that guys like those things . . at the mention of choking — his cock was hitting the back of my throat so much and making me teary! because he didn’t let me touch or wipe my face, i bet i looked so stupid with teary eyes and a big cock in my mouth (T_T) even though it’s all terribly embarrassing, i can’t help but want to do it again . .

“kenny, d’you still like me?” you quip, joking half-heartedly. you sink into the couch besides him, tossing your leg over his. he lets out a soft grunt, tugging your body closer and onto his — falling pliant against his warmth.

“why do you ask, honey? of course i do.” he speaks, purring against his chest. “how’s your throat?”

you huff, nuzzling closer into his chest and taking a longed whiff of scent. fuck. “kenny . . i wanna do it again.”

“what is it you want to do again, doll?” he questions, his fingers twirling into the soft strands of your hair.

“wan—wanna suck your dick again.” you whine, pressing your chin onto his chest and looking up at him. he’s already peering down at you, admiring the soft shimmer of need and want in your eyes. “please . .”

“hmm . . no can do doll.” he hums, grinning at your dedication. his hand leaves your hair, coming to softly wrap around your throat. you let out a soft, pained squeak, the ache in your throat prominent. “see? you’re still hurting here.”

“‘s only a bit . .” you whine hoarsely as his hand snakes to the back of your neck, tugging you close to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “making you feel g—good is more important.”

“that’s not true. your health is most important, sweet girl.” he speaks sternly, laying against the cushion and taking you down with him. you can feel the chub of his cock beginning to stiffen, prodding against your tummy where you lay against him. your innocent demeanor and soft tone don’t fit the conversation’s topic — maybe that’s what’s making him so fucking hard.

you giggle, tracing a finger down his chest, feeling his heaves grow manual. “kento, can feel you gettin’ hard below me.” you purr, tugging yourself higher up onto his body by his neck. you wrap your arms tightly around his strong neck, as tight as it permits with his huge collarbones. you nuzzle against his cheek, pressing an abundance of kisses onto his freshly shaven face. “let me, jus’ teach me, i know you want to.”

he growls when you paw at his bulge, bucking his hips into your hand as his way of approval. you giggle — he’s too easy. but how could he say no to those gorgeous begging orbs and your soft squeaks of his name? darling — he is a strong man but . . not that strong.

nanami flips you under him, arms caged around your body as he hovers over you. he stands tall, eyes never leaving your face as his hand drags across his clothes bulge, making the shape prominent through his sweats. “come here.” he commands, and you reach your arms forward, crawling towards him on fours like an obedient puppy.

you paw at the waistband of his pants and he lets you — lets you tug down on the loose fabric to reveal his now thinly clothed cock solely covered by his cotton briefs. you feel yourself damn near salvitate at the sight before you, easily able to locate his bridged tip that lays clad against his right thigh. “how does your throat feel?”

“‘s alright kento . .” you mumble with no regards for your throat, eyes zeroed in on the fat tip of his cock you need to suck on.

“hey. do you remember what i taught you yesterday?” he chuckles, fingers tapping on your hot cheek to bring you back to reality. your eyes flutter back into his face, giving him a soft nod before leaning into the apple of his palm. his hand moves from where it once laid against your cheek to the bottom of your jaw, pulling you forward and mere inches away from his shaft. he uses a thumb to tug down at the band of his briefs, teasing his fat, blushed tip right in your face. you whine, pacing back and forth from his face to his cock for a green light — and he gives you a nod.

you give his damp slit a soft, shaky peck, growing goosebumps across the back of your arms and across your back when you hear him chuckle. you’re nervous and he can tell — but he won’t make you a fool. his hand still cups your jaw gently, thumb trailing to press at your puffy lower lip as a way to signal — stick out your tongue.

and of course you do — pink tongue sticking out before giving his slit an experimental lick, laying the hot muscle fully across his leaking hole. he groans at the warmth and velvet touch, and you feel him twitch below your tongue. it doesn’t take long for your confidence to boast, enveloping his fat cock head with your soft, chubby lips.

kento sighs, his right leg stepping up on the cushioned couch where you’re sprawled. he tugs the remainder of his briefs below his plump balls, giving you the full view of his swollen, flushed shaft before you. it’s intimidating of course — but, you can do it. you’re sure you can.

with confidence soaring through your body, and a low groan to boost so, you take him further into your mouth, slobbering over the first few inches of his shaft. you moan at the stiff being in your mouth, running your tongue on the underside of his top before swirling it over. “fuck.”

nanami quickly bucks his hips, mumbling quiet apologies when he hears you squeak from the sudden movement. you peer up at him, his disheveled hair and heavy pants paired with lidded eyes tell you something he doesn’t need to express verbally.

“are you ready to take more?” he asks all sultry, as if he was offering you a sweet treat. in a sense, he was.

you nod gently, sure to keep your teeth away from the shaft. it’s sensitive here, try to keep your teeth tucked in, and don’t bite down no matter how much it hurts.

you flashback to the night before, cunt quivering at the reminder. his hands grip a tad tighter at your jaw, pressing himself into your mouth further than you had expected — his cock slides to the left side of your cheek. he moans wantonly, gently thrusting at the soft walls of your mouth.

you look great like this.

he readjusts himself, pulling himself out before pressing himself deep into the depths of your mouth as you permit it to — finally hitting the rim of your throat. he gives it an experimental thrust, and low and behold comes what you have dreaded most ; you gag.

you look up to him with watery eyes, swollen lips pulling away from his shaft with his cock still lodged deep in your mouth. you splutter — coughing lowly at the intrusion.

“see? you’re still much too inexperienced to take it.” he chuckles, giving your throat another gentle squeeze. to his entertainment, it makes you gag again, the rim of your throat tightening and he feels it all.

your brows furrow, and you sniffle gently, desperate to reach to wipe away the forming tears. without remorse, nanamin’s hips press forward, bulging at your resisting throat. “open up.” he groans, a hand coming to swipe away your hairs.

you do — you try — loosening your jaw and throat like he taught you the night before. his chubby tip lodges deep into your throat at the intial loosening, and you gag harshly around him. “calm down darling,” he coos, thumb coming up to wipe at your damp cheeks and nuzzle your face in a comforting sense. he thrusts slowly, careful not to trigger another gag. your sniffles are staggered, eyes shut tight, “nice and slow . . .” he drags out, nearly stuffing the remainder of himself down your swollen throat. the ache in your throat is growing more prominent, as is the ache in your sore cunt. it aches everywhere, and you need kento to satiate it.

"you're making me so proud, darling." nanami's leg steps forward, closing the distance between your mouth and the base of his cock. you sigh internally, body shivering when you feel his dewy balls against your chin, the damp sweat making it so that his ball sack sticks to you. you bravely press yourself deeper into him, another low gag is elicited but it doesn't stop you from nuzzling against his manhood, taking a longed whiff of his honey-blonded bush. the rough patch of hair rubs against your nose, making you moan. you look up to him again, eyes lidded and lashes fluttering incessantly — god, you drive him crazy. he looks away — he has to, or he might just cum deep in that warm throat of yours and disappoint you, darling.

his hand readjusts, the one once gripping your jaw comes up to tug at your hair once you’ve adjusted to him. “baby listens to her daddy so well, doesn’t she?” your heart flutters at the mention of your favorite nickname for him — his eyes meeting yours expectingly. you nod with your eyes, pupils slowly dilating into hearts. “doing such a great job warming and sucking daddy’s cock.”

he tugs you back by your hair, watching strings of spit drag across his shaft from your warming mouth. nanami gradually increases the pace of his fucking, his tug on your hair growing a bit stronger, hips moving harsher. your eyes shut tight to prepare yourself for a proper fucking, pacing yourself to acclimate to his well-earned blowjob after these training sessions. “daddy’ll make sure you feel so good after this, okay? just let me use my sweet baby’s throat right now, just for a bit.” he groans, shooting you a soft smile before you feel a harsh pump to the back of your throat — a short spurt of cum dribbling straight down your throat.

oh — you’re in for a long night.

[thephantomsdream]

Simon "Ghost" Riley that likes to be pampered, to be taken care of and let me tell you, he's just so not used to it. He's never had anyone to really treat him anything close to good.

In all honesty, he genuinely thought it was fine, being alone. He's a solitary creature, as life taught him to be, and deep down he convinced himself it was best. It didn't matter if there was a small, minuscule, pained tug at his heart every time he thought about it.

What he didn't expect was to be whipped immediately, one glance into your eyes and he was a goner. It went against his reasoning, this instinct of his to have you, battling everything he's been trying to avoid at all costs. But that one glance, that small smile you gave him, and he just knew. And months of tedious yet slow opening up and trying not only for you, but for himself, Simon was yours somehow. Baffling as it was, he now had someone to go home to. A sweet angel that in no time he plans to up and move into that bare house he has and take care of. Only thing is, the man did not expect to be taken care of himself, as if he forgot that was an option.

The first few times you two dated, officially, as he had to clarify this wasn't what kids these days mean by "hanging out" or "talking to" or whatever the fuck Johnny and Kyle were babbling to him about their dating lives (it's dating or not, Simon likes things clear), the man was surprised by how sweet yet determined you were. "Can I hold your hand?" You asked him a little flustered, and this big boy almost stuttered. He found himself nodding while gulping before taking your hand in his, internally beating himself up for acting like such a... boy? Having a silly crush on a lovely sweetheart that made him nervous by just exiting around him.

God, it felt fantastic when he finally got to kiss you. Simon thought it was gonna be just a kiss, big fucking deal (he was trying to cope, his hands were sweaty but whatever, big deal), but the way you sighed and melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck made him shudder. It ignited something in him and his heart tugged again, this time not painful but hopeful.

It was the way you touched his scarred face that really astonished him, especially the first night you spent in his house. Whatever movie you babbled about the last date, vampires or whatever, was now playing on his flat screen on the new profile he created for you on whatever streaming service Simon just bought just to watch it. Another tiny bit of you in his life, it seemed. Movie was fucking awful, truly, fucking dumb teenagers and vampires, but whatever, your boyfriend (bloody fucking hell it felt fantastic and scary to think that he's now yours officially) was determined to watch it even if he snorted and made fun of it every three seconds, yet having you giggle by his side made his cold heart warm up as it beat a thousand times per second. Once again, he found himself about to mock something jokingly when he turned to you, finding your beautiful eyes already on him, expression warm and relaxed.

"Come here." At that moment, Simon Riley realized he'd follow anything you'd order him, as his body moved without any thoughts, just closer to you. Like a stray dog that's learning what a home is, something he's never really had, and when your lips touched his cheek while caressing the other, the world slowed down.

Having you move closer to him, placing a leg over his, smiling at him sweetly while gently kissing the scar near his lower lip, all he could do was stare dumbly as his face felt on fire. Little did he know that his pale cheeks reddened so adorably that you started to giggle. God, he fucking loved that sound.

"Lay on me, c'mon." You ordered gently again, grabbing his calloused hands to tug him onto you as you laid down on your back. Simon knew he looked like an idiot in awe, very much aware he's always had a staring problem. But as he crawled gently over you, expecting you to push him off after abruptly changing your mind, all he could do was to look down into your cleavage and stare like a muppet. " 'S aight?" Being all he asked before hearing a nice hum, approval for him to lay on you.

That day, Simon learned what heaven is. Your fingers into his hair, slowly, gently playing with his dirty blond locks, his face in your soft tits, your voice oh-so clear as he pressed his ear into your torso, the slow rumble almost putting him to sleep while his eyes were focused on the silly movie. His arms were wrapped around you while he just laid down between your legs. His dumb jokes still delivered as he muffled them out lazily, getting you to laugh and make him smirk as you(r tits) jiggled under him, and his reward, because you're a fucking angel, of course, was a sweet kiss on his temple every single time. The man could be turning into a clown by the end of the night as long as you kissed him so tenderly.

You spoiled him too. How dare you, really? Bringing him sweets, asking him what he wants to eat, adjusting your schedule to fit his (man's off duty, he can camp outside your house and come in whenever you want him to, if you'd be willing, like a good obedient dog), just making him feel wanted. It was odd. And new. And addicting.

You cared. You cared for him. And in his wonky yet honest way, he cared too. Always making sure that you know he's somehow thinking of you. He wanted to try. He wanted to make sure you'll stick around. The military has taught this man a lot of things, and apart from his head-strong conviction that he indeed can do anything if he puts his mind to it, another was how to not fuck up something good, all through the hundreds of stories from many other soldiers about failed relationships. He knows all the perspectives, all the failures, all the erros and all the aftermaths, so he learned to listen and not blame, to pay attention, to be there even if he was half a world away. Simon is determined to keep you around, coming back to you battered, wounded, traumatized, exhausted, and is greeted with his angel, all ready to pick him up, wrap him in a warm blanket and fuss over his ass. He'd roll his eyes at you, but his emerging smile said it all.

His heart now tugs when he's about to pick his luggage, a duffle bag filled with essentials and nothing more. A week earlier than expected too, relief washing over his body like never before, knowing you're at home waiting for good news. And he's heading that way too, determined, unrelenting, head first, no thoughts. He's going home to you.

Home to warm, delicious food, instead of stale and plain. Home to sweet laughter and love, instead of orders barked and indifference. Home to his, your comfortable bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, the plump delicious curves of your body pressed against his hardened one. Home to gentle, home to calm, home to soft, home to himself, home to everything. Home to his heart, that is tugging him closer and closer, where he left it with you.

I'm just gonna dump this here and leave. Not proofread because we're old and lazy here.

[slttygeto]

note: reader knows a bit of french, very self indulgent.

teacher and twin girls dad! suguru who doesn’t watch his mouth around his 11 month old twin girls and ends up saying a curse word. you’re out on a little much needed shopping spree and told him you’ll be back in a bit, but now he wishes to just flee the country because he knows he’s in trouble.

“fuhck!” one of his baby girls repeats after him and all color is drained from his face.

“no no baby-“

“fuck fuck-“ the other twin joins her sister and suguru has to hold his head in his hands as he watches the chaos unfold before him. he needs them to learn another word, or find a word similar to the curse word to avoid getting in trouble with you—oh! he knows what to do.

fuck is similar to a french word you taught him…phoque…the animal, yeah! yeah you’d totally buy that!

“i’m back!” you announce as you open the door and the sound of your babies squealing and crying as they try to crawl towards you makes your heart swell.

“oh pretty girls, did you miss me? I thought you loved papa!” you pick both of them up with so much ease—11 months of learning how to do things when suguru wasn’t around truly paid off.

“hi baby,” suguru emerges from the kitchen with an apron around his waist and you giggle at how small it is before pecking his lips.

“hey there, you look so attractive,” you tease your husband and he rolls his eyes as he tries to take one of your baby girls from you, but she clings onto you and your jaw slightly drops.

“this is new! yesterday you refused to come to me,” you tease your little girl before pecking her check—not without doing the same to your other baby girl of course.

“dada fuhck!”

suguru watches as your smile drops and your head whips toward him and he cannot believe that he shivers at your stare. your husband has seen every side of you, but becoming a mother has definitely made you 10 times scarier (and more attractive).

“what?”

“oh you know, I turned on the TV and there was this french channel that had a documentary about animals and stuff—“

“you don’t even understand french.” shit, you weren’t buying it.

“but you do! and apparently, our girls got that from you—“

“suguru.” you say sternly and he slowly starts to accept his faith.

“chat!” “meoww,” the little interaction between your twin girls is unexpected. the random french coming out of their mouths makes you a bit confused, but suguru doesn’t care—it seems like you’re buying his story.

“that’s…cat in french—okay, but out of every animal they chose to say seal?” you sigh a little and suguru kisses your forehead.

“it’s okay, we can teach them other words like… bonjour?”

“hm, might as well do it.”

thank god you believed his bullshit of a story.

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave me a tip!

[monstersholygrail]

Rewarding Bad Behavior

Puppy Hybrid bf x fem!reader— pet play, tail plug, double penetration (plug), leashing to the wall, breath play, body worship

You had been bad recently whenever your Puppy Hybrid bf left you alone at the house. You would get into get into the pillows, shredding them up until feathers were everywhere, you’d break vases running around, and you’d always leave such a mess for him to come home to.

But you couldn’t help it. You missed him. He always seemed to be going out lately, leaving you home alone and bored. He taught you how to be a good pet for him, but he never taught you how to handle missing him. So you acted out.

You hated disappointing him and seeing him all upset at you. You hated being called a bad girl even more. You wanted to be good for him, you wanted it more than anything. If only he was around more then you’d get to show him that.

But he wasn’t and you can’t seem to get over that fact as you pace throughout the house. You swallow your moans as the pup tail plug snugly sunk into your bottom brushes along your walls with every step. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction even when he isn’t here to see it or feel how soaked your panties are.

As you walk down the hall your eyes catch onto the framed photos on the wall. Dozens of photos lined up of you and your Puppy Hybrid bf. You pout at them, growing more upset by the second. Wondering why he didn’t do fun stuff with you anymore. You tried your best to be good and he couldn’t see that.

The only time you truly get his attention is when you’re bad…

You hesitantly reach out toward one of the frames, lifting it off the wall. Your fingers trace the happy expressions on you and your Puppy Hybrid bf’s face. With a big ole huff you swing your arm up and throw the frame onto the floor. The shattering glass giving a satisfying crunch.

The rest is honestly all a blur. Your body moving on its own, your mind empty. All you could focus on is the crunch of glass.

A loud whistle pierces through the air, stopping your movements instantly. You pant heavily, your vision clearing as you meet your bfs livid eye. You shrink back at the fury in his gaze and the way his dog ears stand up all alert. Small whimpers leave you as you’re caught in the act.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your bf growls. The sight of your broken memories pinching at his heart.

You didn’t know what you expected. All you wanted was his attention. You didn’t really think about getting in trouble. In the lesson he might have to teach you.

Despite your nervousness, you can’t help but feel a flicker of arousal shoot through you. Your thoughts filtering through exactly what kind of pleasure your lesson could bring. You scurry around the glass left behind and sink down to all fours. Crawling over to him you sit at his feet, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whine, nuzzling the puppy-dog ears you’re wearing into his thigh. His gaze bores into you, making you squirm.

You quickly avert your gaze, unable to look at him anymore. You try your hardest not to lean in closer to him and hump on his leg to get you out of trouble. Knowing you could turn on the cuteness and be out of this in a flash. But you craved whatever attention he was going to give you. You needed his hands on you, to be surrounded by his touch and his scent.

His hand gently falls on your head, petting you softly. You immediately nuzzle into the embrace. His tail wags behind him, giving away some of just how much he’s enjoying this. The growing bulge in front of your face also gives him away. Your own bottom subconsciously shakes and you moan as the tail plug moves inside you.

“What made you do such a thing, pup?” He asks firmly. The disappointment laced in his tone has you cuddling closer against his leg. Seeking his comfort even now.

“Y-you haven’t been here very much. Only ever around when I’m bad. I-I didn’t know what else to do,” you admit, voice small.

His hand stills on your head and for a second so does your heart. You wait for his reaction with bated breath. After a second his fingers weave into your hair and he sharply tugs back your head. You cry out at the delicious sting on your scalp and instantly meet his eye. Your heart flutters at the softness in them.

“Have I not been giving my baby enough attention?” He coos at you a little condescendingly.

You whimper, giving him your best puppy dog eyes as you nod along to his question. A dark chuckle falls past his lips as lust sparks through his eyes.

“Aww, hunny. Well we’ll fix that right up, don’t worry.”

With a single snap of his fingers you stand up off the ground. He gives your bum a little slap and nods toward the bedroom. Your expression brightens and you hop over the mess of glass to head into the bedroom. Not worrying about it a bit. You know he’ll clean up and take care of you. It’s what he loves to do more than anything.

His laughter rings through the air, living to see his good girl so happy. He follows you into the bedroom but detours to the closet. He snatches up your special leash and attaches it to the wall above your headboard.

A series of whistles ring through the air and you immediately catch the signal. Hopping onto the bed you kneel on all fours. Staying perfectly still as your Puppy Hybrid bf connects the leash to the wall and to your very pretty collar.

He growls lowly in his throat, seeing you all posed and in position for him. He runs his hand up and down the plush curves of your naked body like you’re some kind of show dog, his cock aching in his pants and begging to ruin you.

“Gonna give my girl some extra special attention,” he rumbles lowly in a way that sends shivers up your spine.

You arch your back prettily for him as his hand moves down your back. His eyes flash with need and you relish in the reactions you can get for him. No matter how much control you appear to give him. He’s just as much putty in your hands.

In an instant he rolls onto the bed, kneeling right behind you. Grabbing hold of your wide hips he squeezes handfuls of flesh in his palms, moaning and grinding his clothed cock against your pussy. You mewl loudly, leaning back into him, desperate for more friction.

“Sh, sh, sh. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, don’t I, sweetheart?” He practically purrs.

The clinking of a metal buckle has your body gushing with anticipation. You’re an absolute mess for him. The apex of your thighs dripping with your need.

“Let me make it up to you, baby. Again and again and again.”

Without any warning your Puppy Hybrid bf thrust into you in one solid stroke. Your wetness making him glide in with ease. He growls loudly, realizing just how much you’ve needed him. And he’s ready to give you it all.

Puppy Hybrid bf groans in pleasure as he pounds his cock deep inside your eager fat cunt. You match his nosies of pleasure, not bothering to hold back in just how good he feels. His length igniting your every nerve.

The double penetration of his cock and the plug have them both feeling even bigger. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head. The sensation sending you to unimaginable heights of pleasure you never fail to reach with him.

His hands grab at you like you’re the most precious thing on earth and your heart soars. You cry out, jerking back and meeting each of his thrusts. Desperate to have him inside of you as deeply as possible.

As you go to thrust back once more, you go too far, and the chain keeping you attached to the wall is quick to stop you. A small yelp leaves you but a moan quickly replaces it as your collar tightens. You clench around his cock and your bf chuckles darkly.

“Careful, sweet pup, wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

His hands hold onto your plump hips tighter, using his hold to slam you back down on his cock. A fierce scream echos through the air but it’s quickly cut off as the collar grows tighter once more. You know what he’s doing and it turns you on to no end, your sopping pussy fluttering around his length.

With the collar slowly restricting your breathing and your holes being stuffed full to the brim you can’t contain the power of your orgasm. A strangled gasp tears forces its way past your lips as your orgasm rolls through you. Your vision flashes white and you go limp, letting your bf help work you through such ecstasy.

Puppy Hybrid bf buries himself inside you, all the way to the hilt before finally giving in and coming. Thick ropes of cum shoot deep inside your pussy and you weakly moan, trying to milk him for everything he can give you.

When he tries to pull out you immediately clench down, trying to keep him connected to you. Whimpers spill from your lips, your heart aching with need. Your bf shushes you softly, rubbing his hands along your curves and gently soothing you.

You can’t help but wince as he pulls out. But the brief ache is long forgotten the moment he gathers you up in his arms. Unlocking the leash and bringing you both down onto the bed. He molds your body to his, petting you and kissing you. Giving you all the affection you’ve been begging for in all your own ways.

“I’m not going anywhere, love. I won’t leave you again. I’m staying right here where I belong,” he whispers lovingly into your ear. Somehow managing to calm all your worries with just a few simple words.

And you know without a doubt he means all of them, trusting him to care for you in every single way.

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, noncon, virgin reader, corruption kink, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Thinking about Demon King Sukuna and how he receives a virgin for his harem every new moon. Most are unfortunate townspeople who’ve come of age—but you’re something he can savor even more, something truly special.

The silk kimono you’d been dressed in is easily ripped from your body, leaving you bare. You’d been warned not to fight or run, that he’d only sooner kill and eat you—but you keep your faith and try and escape anyway. 

All your life, the temple has taught you of Ryomen Sukuna—that he’s a harbinger of carnage and death. You’d feel better offering your life to the Gods than allowing it to remain captive by the likes of evil.

He only grabs and manhandles you with nothing more but a sadistic laugh, catching your hair in a fist as he pulls you up until only the tips of your toes are left grazing the floors—and even then, he has to bow nearly half his length before he’s leveling your eyes with his.

“My patience is a fickle thing, turtledove. Run again, and I’ll treat it like a real hunt. Which would be a real shame… I so hate spilling holy blood before I’ve made it filthy with sin.”

You're thrown onto a large round bed next. It catches you with a bounce while he crawls after you, taking hold of both your ankles and swiftly pulling you beneath him. 

His chest is marked with demonic seals, and so is his face, where he looms above you with a deranged smile. Raking his claws up your legs and thighs, he spreads and pushes them flat against the bed while his other two hold your crying face, cupping your cheeks with both thumbs hooking into the wet of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you sob. When he shows you his and its black markings, you scream, feeling as though he’s pouring poison down your throat as he feeds you its length and knots it with yours.

You choke and sob while you share each other’s spit, feeling tarnished and forsaken by all that you held sacred—wondering why the heavens would allow this to happen as the weight of his manhood finds rest between your thighs, upon your mound and tummy, where it grows fat and warm.

His hands leave your face and switch places with the other two, freeing them for what he plans on doing next. Wrapping one around himself, he gives it languid tugs while soaking in the sight of your poor little cunt trembling in fear of something it only barely knows what is. His other hand pets it soothingly in mockery, tickling the slit, making you shake.

His stomach then splits open like a cut, baring teeth and a tongue that only earns your horrified expression—crying as it drools over you, jutting out to lick the tender place you so wished had remained untouched. You whine in shudders as he squeezes your throat and bares down over you, staring at you with keen bromine eyes, amused with your fall from grace as you come undone.

“You taste sweet,” he moans against your lips while his other mouth slurps at your core, also groaning.

You’re naïve for thinking it’s over where you blink away tears, but he doesn’t blame you. They never teach you the truth in temples, only childish lies that leave you ever vulnerable to the outside world and ever sweeter for him to ruin.

“I apologize for clipping your wings, angel. But I must say… depravity suits you better.”

Nothing. Not a prayer or plea leaves your lips as he tears through and fills you up. Only a choked gasp that dies midway. You bite into your lip, squeezing your eyes shut—ready to accept a death that never comes. Instead, there’s a living hell, and you can only scream as it consumes you.

Your whimpering is delicious, caught beneath him, panting every time his hips snap forth and storm your clingy insides, gushing for him like he knew you would be—sweetly surrendering all your worship to him and honoring him as your new god.

Perhaps he won’t feast on your flesh once he’s done as cute as you are. He wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a bit. Teach you how to serve him properly. Paint you with his seals. Make you his favorite pet.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist