#muscles so well for some reason so man's has been doing this for YEARS. but just imagine how confused a person would be if-

[alexanderwales]

Notes on 3000 miles

Last year my doctor told me that I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and a high resting heartrate. So I started biking on an exercise bike, and by my best estimations, I'm either close to hitting 3000 miles or have already gone past that.

I should clarify that this wasn't all at once. I took many breaks.

So here are some notes.

When I started, I was on an exercise bike that my wife had gotten from her work. It wasn't the best, but it was free, and I made a deal with myself that if I biked every day for a month, then I could justify getting something better. I really really did not want to buy a piece of exercise equipment that would just sit in the house gathering dust, because that would feel awful ... but I do kind of wish that I had gotten the better bike sooner, because it removed some of the "friction" of exercise, where it felt like there were too many reasons not to get on the bike. The new exercise bike (a refurbished Peleton off Facebook marketplace that my wife got me for Christmas) really does just feel and move better. I think the general principle of not doing costly monetary commitments until you've shown costly personal commitment is a good one, however.

Blood pressure is in normal range. Cholesterol is in normal range. Resting heartrate is in normal range. This was all the case three months in, and this level of cardio is more than enough to maintain it.

Right now, I bike for thirty minutes a day, going 8-10 miles according to the bike. That range is enormous, because it represents vastly different amounts of work. Going 10 miles in 30 minutes is 20 miles an hour, and I keep the resistance relatively high, so by the end of it I'm always panting. By contrast, going 8 miles makes me feel like I didn't put in enough work.

My goal every day is sweat-based and completely qualitative. I want to soak through a shirt. This means that doing more laundry than I'd prefer to, which is an unanticipated consequence of the biking. It's also, compared to all the metrics the bike gives me, a very clear sign that I am actually exercising my body "properly" in a way that's achieving something.

I did some of the Peleton classes, and found a lot of the metrics to be motivating, but ... eh. Exercise is mostly about being healthy and maintaining my body, so my current strategy, for the last six months, has been to either shut the brain down or keep it fully engaged in something that passes the exercise time. Usually this means a TV show, especially a foreign one with subtitles, which need slightly more brainpower.

The final two minutes is always the worst. I'm just ready to be done with it. Sometimes there's gas left in the tank, but I still feel sweaty, thirsty, and overheated. I have a water bottle, and I drink from it while I bike, and I have a fan pointed at me that I turn on once I'm warmed up, but I always have a sense, in those last two minutes, of "finally I'm done". I tried the thinking man's solution, only biking for 28 minutes, and this did not help. In my entire year of biking a half hour a day, I didn't ever elect to go into overtime.

I initially lost ten pounds, then slowly gained it back. I am, in fact, overweight, but I'm holding more or less steady now, and there have definitely been some body composition changes, with muscle replacing fat. I went down about four inches at the waist. I've changed very little about how I eat (which is 90% meals that I cook myself, and a daily coffee drink of some kind, usually made myself with sugar/cream/chocolate). Biking amounts to 300-400 calories a day or something like that, so I'm presumably eating more to compensate and just not realizing it.

Mental health has been rocky, but that's just sort of how it is for me. I definitely feel less mentally well on days that I don't bike, and feel better afterward, but I have no idea how tight the correlation is, and if I had been keeping track on a mood tracker, I'm not sure I would be able to sus out from self-reported mood alone whether or not I was biking.

During the summer I replaced a lot of indoor exercise bike stuff with outdoor biking. My son has only recently learned to bike, so he's been with me many of these times. Usually that means that we're either biking a lot less distance, or we're biking for a lot longer time at much lower intensity, sometimes both. There's a bike path that's downhill from our house which goes for maybe six miles, with some good, clear turn back points, but that means a fairly arduous uphill to get back home. If I lived in a place where the weather wasn't frigid for almost half the year, I would probably be doing outdoor biking more.

I think the most important thing, if you're doing exercise every day, is making sure that you're doing it in such a way that it's sustainable and virtually incapable of injuring you. This mostly means proper form. Early on, I had a habit of pressing down the right pedal with the outside edge of my foot, and after fifteen minutes of doing that, the muscles in the foot would be aching and uncomfortable. I'm not sure why I was doing that, but it was difficult to get myself to bike in a way that wouldn't be putting strain on me.

I think it's okay to skip a day ... if it's for the right reason. Of the days that I've skipped, I always try to make sure the reason isn't "fuck it, I don't want to". I should either be feeling sick, feeling like I need to rest, or replacing biking with some other form of exercise like a hike in the woods or some weightlifting or something. If I start skipping days because I just don't feel like it, that's where the whole scheme falls apart.

I am currently sort of wondering how long this is going to go on for, and I think the answer is "for the rest of my life", or at least until I'm unable to keep it up for whatever reason. I don't think there's any particular reason to prefer an exercise bike (or regular bike) over running or rowing or some other form of cardio, but I think I have proven to myself that this is cardio I can do daily and stick with it to the level that is probably necessary for me to stay healthy. I'm not committed to doing it for the rest of my life, since in theory some other form of cardio might come along and sweep me off my feet.

I do wish that I had started earlier in my life, even if daily exercise has not been the panacea for mental health that I had been kind of hoping it would be. I hope that I have the willpower and wisdom to keep up with it indefinitely.

[mad-hunts]

so... basically, one of the first actions that barton does in the morning after waking up is the ' big stretch ' thing that cats normally do. and yes, he does this even if there is another person sleeping in his bed with him, so he is not embarrassed of it at all lol. it just relieves all of the tension in his muscles okok i'm sorry, i don't make the rules JSJSJ

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[vicariousresearcher]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny has been in a coma for 2 years 5 months, and 18 days. Who just barely survived long enough to get medical attention after Makarov. Who has become a part of the slim statistic of people who’ve survived a gunshot wound to the head. Whose brain scans show limited activity and such little chance of waking up.

But when his family gets asked if they’re ready to let him go his Ma shakes her head.

“God will take him when he’s ready.”

It’s not common that young guys get put in long-term care facilities like yours. Most of the time it’s older folks whose families can’t let them go and are using pensions to pay the rent costs.

At the start, his room is full of visitors. Big family. Very religious you’ve learned. A boy's bible is set alongside flowers.

Between the swathes of dark hair and bright blue eyes are a couple of other individuals. Quiet but polite.

“Teammates.” The dark-skinned man offers with a strained smile when you give him a curious look. “Military.”

It’s not long till his room quiets down. Visits becoming fewer. His family who was already a little detached from their son you concluded. Between the secretive work and deployments that kept him from home for months.

The team came by when they could though. Enough for you to learn their names and details about your resident.

You glean little things about him here and there. Find the sketchbook with his name on it left by the one named Simon. See the tattoo on his forearm obscured the thick curtain of arm hair. Listen politely to the questionable stories told by Gaz that always left Laswell's head shaking.

Quite the man Soap was is. No one’s given you an explanation on that nickname yet but the military guys that come in always call him by it.

You do what you can to keep him comfortable. Trimming his hair, changing out the gospel music for an audiobook every once in a while, talking to him whenever you’re in the room.

Well more so talking at him. Venting frustrations and complaints in hushed words so no one walking by hears you. Talking about your lazy coworkers, the overly loud upstairs neighbours in your apartment, and how you had to sit through another family dinner alone because your boyfriend made some excuse to not come again.

It’s easy to just talk when you’re in the room with him. Feels less like you’re going insane because you can reason that you’re talking for *his sake.* Not yours. Because what if he can hear you yknow?

……

You’ve just transferred him back over after changing his bed sheets, crouched and folding the linen under the mattress while you talk about your plans for this coming Christmas. How you’re excited for that one chocolate pop up shop that always comes to your mall-

You just about shit yourself when you stand back up and look to the head of the bed and see two slits of blue through his tan eyelids. Dark brown brows pinched in just slightly to create a crease between them.

……

A blinding white light accompanying a splitting headache was what he saw first. Eyelids sticky against his corneas. Weight of a thousand sins holding his muscles paralyzed and unable to flinch away.

Then the light flickered and he saw you.

Frizzy hair curling a fluorescent halo over your head. A swinging, unblinking eye glinting off of your chest.

Johnny who tells his weepy-eyed mother that it’s okay, he had the voice of an angel guiding him the whole time. That’s what brought him back.

[inklessletter]

Happens after gym class. Eddie was held back, and the new gym coach is warned against the obscene numbers of excuses Munson handed over the last one to skip class, so this time, he actually has to go an do shit.

Fucking hates it.

First class of the year comes, and Eddie just tries his best to not engage with the new kids. Former class was a nest of assholes, and that was part of the reason he hated going in there. Hasn't got time to overthink because the coach is in the middle of the basketball court and makes them run thirty laps.

Eddie's sure he's dying at the ninth.

And it's mortifying being eighteen and in such poor shape he can't even run for a few minutes.

He's about to faint, and he knows he's not even running right because his feet don't respond how his brain wants them to. It's the fifteenth lap yet.

Eddie is dying, he's swearing he's going to quit smoking after this shit, when he feels a tap of a hand next to him.

Great, first asshole was taking to long to make fun of him.

It's Harrington.

"Hey, man" he says, and he's carrying himself with a fine layer of sweat that makes him look even good. "Get upright, come on, you're going to kiss the floor if you keep running like that."

"Leave me... a... alone..." Eddie says. Or tries to.

"Just run with me, slow your pace," Steve says. "Just like this. One, two. One, two. One, two."

And maybe it's because those are his last moments of his short life, but he actually decides to do as he's told. Eddie straightens his back and takes a deep breath and focuses on his feet, following the rhythm. One, two. One, two. One, two.

"That's good, keep going, just like that," Steve praises.

And it's fucking odd, and suspicious as fuck that Harrington is being nice to him.

Eddie thinks that maybe Harrington is avoiding Tommy H for whatever reason. Last year they were together all the time, but this year Hargrove seemed to have captured his attention.

Eddie also thinks Harrington is going to ditch Eddie once he doesn't look pathetic, but actually sticks with him the rest of the laps, and the last five he actually is looking like a mess too, but has some breath left for encouraging Eddie, who is deliberately not responding verbally because air is precious.

Then they finish the tirtieth lap and Eddie's knees barely work until he finds a spot to sit and never, ever stand up. His lungs are burning, and his vision is all blurry. He's hot, and sweaty, and fucking disgusting.

Steve is there again, offering some water.

Eddie takes it, and Steve just nods with his head and goes away to the showers.

With the last bit of strength his muscles has stored, Eddie stands up and goes to the showers. He need one SO. FUCKING. MUCH.

The kids are loud and there's a general vibe of complaining and Eddie has no meaning to finish soon to get to class right away.

Fuck next class, he's toast.

There's barely five or six of them still in the locker room when he can breathe almost normally again (his lungs still hurt) when he starts to undress.

Harrington is just going out of the showers, towel around his middle when Eddie is... well. Almost fully naked.

For a reason he's so not going to analyze, he feels a wave of heat going up to make nest in his cheeks. He tries not to stare when Steve takes off the towel, not looking at him twice.

He observes, and thinks that maybe needs to say thanks or something nice for helping him out back there. Anything, actually. But he's there. Staring. Frozen.

Harrington is... well. That. He's been that since a few years ago. They have never interacted before, so him being that was never a problem until he stands there, fully naked in front of him.

Who's also naked.

Steve is dressing, and he's not looking at Eddie, but Eddie, who's looking with no trace of discretion, sees him smiling while he's tying his Nikes.

"You've got no shame, man," Steve says, and then looks at him fully. He's putting his polo on and then working on his belt while looking at Eddie in the eye. "See something you like?"

"Uh... Ah... I'm not-"

Steve's eyes just go south on Eddie's body, and then back up, smirking.

Eddie is suddenly hyper aware that he's hard. Hadn't even noticed. He's got no time to feel ashamed when he feels a dry towel crashing against his face. He grabs it, and looks at Steve, trying to... to what? Apologize?

Steve is smiling when he closes his locker, takes the duffel bag and leaves the room.

"For your modesty, dude."

--

@lawrencebshoggoth

[livelaughlovesubs]

Omgomg requests ya boi got an idea

Reader x shy clumsy incubus!Sigma

He's a new incubus and has no experience except pure instinct. Luckily, his first target (you) is sympathetic and willing to show him a good time. At first he's flustered and covering his face as you work him open, and by the end of the night, you have him shamelessly drooling and desperately grinding back into your thrusts as you grip his tail

It’s almost the same thing so I paired the two (I’m sorry to the anon for taking so long) anyway… AHHH MAN I STILL LOVE THIS BABY SM <3 he’s still my background! Partly cuz I’m too lazy to change it haha

Dom!reader x sub!Incubus!sigma - reader is gender neutral

Warning: no lube no protection, all night long, until he breaks (lol), saliva as lube, fingering, pegging (I use dick), taking virginity, biting, tail pulling

“Okay.. I can do it, it’s not difficult. I have to, otherwise I’ll starve…” sigma tried his best to pump up some confidence, staring at himself through the mirror. It’s been an entire years now since he became a fully pledged incubi, yet he hasn’t made any advances on any humans. Just look at him! He was all skin and bones! All this time he had to nurture himself through the emergency packs for his kind, in cases where they can’t come into contact with mortals.

The demon clenched his fists before starring at his to-do list. Written on it were the basics that were taught to him while he was still young. Tips and tricks on how to seduce humans, as well as the appropriate clothes or language to use. “You can do it, sigma..!” He said to himself while staring at his body. Then he slumped and sighed, “damn it.. would anyone find me attractive when I’m so slim? I heard muscles are in trend right now.” When he tried to clench his Bizeps, a look of horror washed over him. Those were noddle arms! He can’t hurt a fly like this!

“Don’t they also prefer the bold and confident type, like fyodor..?” He thought to himself. Despite his old acquaintance being just as- if not, weaker than him when it came to physical strength, he was doing way better than him. Many fell for his trickery and became his slave. Though it’s been a while since he saw him, has that man perhaps settled down on a specific person? Sounds unreasonable, it wasn’t like the fyodor he knew.

Nonetheless, it wouldn’t help him to worry about others when he was on the verge of losing it. It’s not like he doesn’t want to, he was too awkward to actually invade someone’s dreams! Again, what if that person doesn’t find him attractive? He’d lose every ounce of self respect if that happens. “No, don’t worry about it.. it will be fine, who would be able to resist the temptation of an incubus anyway?” He tried to reason with his subconscious one last time, finally mustering enough courage to seek someone out.

And that someone was you.

It was in the middle of the night when sigma decided to visit you. He snuck into your room with some simple magic, and started to climb onto your bed. Not on top of you though, only kneeling next to you. What if his weight woke you up, he doesn’t want to drag this out too much. “Ah.. a real human, they looks so peaceful, sleeping like this. They won’t wake up too soon right?” Sigma whispered, starring holes into your body. The boy desperately hoped you won’t wake up, since he wouldn’t know how to handle it. Yet he also kind of wished you would, so that he’d have a reason to return home empty handed.

“Okay, it’s now or never. Hah, I want it too after all. I’m so hungry.” As soon as he was ready, he reached his hand out to you, caressing your thighs. He wanted to get straight to business, hoping to end this as soon as possible when another hand shoot out of the darkness and grabbed his wrist. “Ahh!?” The incubi yelped, stumbling backwards, about to fall off the bed if it weren’t for his tail desperately wrapping around your torso for support. His instincts caused him to use his tail to stabilise himself. “What’s this?” Suddenly your voice reached his ears, poor guy didn’t even have time to breath when you pulled his wrists and made him fall back into your lap.

“IiiiKK..!! Wa-wait.. let go of me!” He panicked and tried to yank his hand away. “Hold up, you came into my room so suddenly, why does it seem like I’m the bad guy now?” You complained, then said, “also.. what is this.. leather? Rope?” After saying that, you poked his tail, making him shudder in surprise. “UghhH! Don’t touch that!” Sigma immediately yelled, a deep blush covered his face. “Hey, wait. What are you?” Finally you realised something was wrong and asked him that question, all while staring at his pretty face. He was so petite and cute, totally your type, but if he turned out to be a stalker you wouldn’t hesitate to make him pay.

To your surprise that person started crying, breaking down as he looked at you through wet lashes. “I’m so bad at this..! All I wanted was food! Let me go, I won’t come back ever again!” Then the guy with the two coloured hair hide his face in his hands, while fat tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. When you heard his comment, you took pity on him, not to mention the vulnerable state he was in. “You’re hungry.. Is that why you came here? I’m sorry to hear that, what do you want to eat then?” You tried to be kind to him, poor thing was starving. Seems like he was a thief who wanted to steal your food, but he accidentally found your bedroom instead. How clumsy…

“I- i… no, you wouldn’t do it with me anyway.” He shouted, making your ears bleed a little, “hey.. tune it down, and what do you mean?” Sigma covered his mouth with his palm, then said, “I need very special food.” You tilted your head, asking, “do I have it here?” Without thinking about it, he responded yes. So you commented, “if that’s the case you can take it.” The boy stopped crying so much, instead he gazed at you and tried to be as serious as he could be. Afterwards he mumbled, “I’m an incubus.. i-I’ll need you to..to, erm.. do that with me, please…”

He couldn’t help himself, you smelled so delicious. Besides his body and mind told him to not let this opportunity go to waste. You seemed nice enough for his first, so he thought now or never. On the other hand, you were wondering if what he said was true. Then you remembered the rope around your body, or rather, his tail. “Are all incubus’ this shy?” You questioned him. “Er, no.. I guess I’m the only one who’s timid. I mean- this is my first hunt..!” Oh dear, he was trying to justify himself, but it only made him sound even more pitiful.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. While he glared at you with a blushing face, you suddenly pinned him down onto your bed as you said, “so why are you waiting? I said I’ll let you eat.” His wrists were now held up above his head and his face pushed into the mattress. “Wait, I-I’m not ready!” Sigma complained, feeling his body heat up at the sudden change in position. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow with you.” You whispered gently, afterwards your hand slipped lower and lower, until you were caressing his butt. Gosh, his skin was soft, you felt like you were corrupting an angel instead.

Then you rubbed his rim with your middle and index finger, using your other hand to reach for the drawer. You took out everything you might need, but then noticed how you didn’t have lube near by. “Huh, this might be difficult.” You muttered under your breath, contemplating over what to do. “Er, what is?” The incubi gazed back at you with teary eyes, his lips were trembling as he talked. “I don’t have any lube here.” For a second you were almost hypnotised by his looks, but you managed to snap out of it. “I see, well, you could use my saliva, it has a similar effect.” Sigma proposed. Since he was offering it to you, it’d be impolite to decline, right?

Which led to your current situation, where you are caressing his back and spine with one hand, while the other one was over his face and sticking two fingers into his mouth. “Mhmm, hmHh..!!” He let out some muffled choking sounds, all due to your fingers messing with his tongue. You were shoving them too deep inside, he can barely breathe! “GuuHh.. huhMmm.” The boy groaned again, until you finally pulled your digits out. At this point he was already a blushing, flustered mess. Drooling around everywhere as tears threatened to spill. “Good job.” You told him, before smearing his saliva around his entrance. “Ha-haaaa…” sigma had to calm himself, this is it, today is the day he finally catches his first prey! So why does he feel like the prey today?

No long after you sticked a finger inside him, it slipped in very easily. “This makeshift lube is working pretty well.” You complimented him as your middle finger slid in, stretching his rim. “Uh-uHh! It feels weird?” He gasped, his tail was wagging around so cutely. “Shh, don’t tense up now, deep breaths, little incubus.” As soon as you finished your sentence, a second finger joined in. And oh boy he was already a wreck now. Hands clenching the sheets like his life depended on it, back arched so beautifully while those shining tears finally dripped down his cheeks. “Ah. Ha-hnnGg.” Poor baby couldn’t help but moan out loud, especially after you pushed your fingers knuckles deep inside. No one has ever touched that place, it was such a foreign feeling!

His insides were soft and warm, he basically welcomed you with open arms. Those squishy and spongy walls squeezed down on your fingers whenever you moved too fast, or curled them. Each time he’d also let out a whine of pleasure, shaking slightly to accommodate the electricity running through his body. “You.. hnghh, don’t tease..” that was all he managed to say, before a series of moans and whimpers escaped his throat. All because you found that one sweet spot inside him, and now you were poking it continuously. “This must be your prostate? Heh, how cute your voice is.” His voice was so high-pitched after all, almost like a girl. It must be in the nature of lust-demons to be so erotic all the time.

You slowly scissored him, spreading him and preparing him for the main event. But you didn’t neglect his comfort at all, once in a while you’d purposely brush over his weak spot or lean close to him to bite his shoulder. “Uh, haah.. why, why are you so nice..?” He asked, the spot below him was already wet with tears. “Hmm, because I want to?” You didn’t have a concrete answer, maybe it was his charm. Nevertheless when you deemed him ready enough, you speed up your movements a little. Now fingering him at a decent pace. Squelching sounds echoed through the room, such a lewd sound that it embarrassed the little incubi.

“HNng, ha-hmNn, it feels good to-good..” he moaned out again, but this time to his dismay you pulled your fingers out of him. “What-what?!” The boy immediately gasped, a disappointed look across his face. Did you get sick of him, or he wasn’t a.. attractive enough anymore..? “I’m sorry, little incubi, I can’t held myself back anymore.” Before he got the chance to turn back, he noticed how your tip was pressing and poking against him. “Ah-ahh..” another moan slipped from his lips at the realisation, he had to gulp loudly to swallow his nervousness once more. “Please, be s-slow.. go easy on me.” After hearing him say that, you had to use every ounce of self control you had to not pound on him right there right now.

Instead you heed his words and took your sweet time bottoming out inside him. “Is this pace alright?” You asked him after he managed to take the tip in. To be honest that was pretty dumb of you. Did you really think he could still register what you tell him, when he’s literally already in subspace? His eyes were widened and with each inch he took, his mind would go blank a little more. He could swear he couldn’t feel his limps anymore, legs and knees already going numb beneath him. He just didn’t know it would feel so good to get stuffed full..! All these sensations were getting to him, to the point he was melting, shaking and a flustered mess.

When you finally managed to fit your entire length inside, expect to see him begging, pleading for you to ruin him. At this point, his instincts were taking over, causing him to plead with you in the sweetest voice ever, just so you will finally start taking him to paradise. How can you say no to such a honey sweet temptation? Not even five minutes later you were jumping him like any rational thoughts of yours got wiped out, trusting into his slim and adorable body while holding his waist with your hands. His tail wrapped around your torso once more, pulling you closer to him so that you could trust into him deeper.

Or how he’d grind his hips against yours whenever you rub your dick deep inside him <3. He was such a cutie! Pervers noises came from the male like he was praying for something, blabbering with no end in sight. You bit his back and neck area some more, taking special care to not bit any fatal areas. The way his body was covered in traces of you was so beautiful that you wanted to keep him. He was like your perfect match. “AaahhH..!! Oh-ooHh, deeper, ha-harder..! <3.!” Sigma couldn’t control his own body anymore, he was just yelling out whatever was on his mind. His body was as if it got a mind if its own, doing everything it could to keep you pounding into his swollen and puffy hole.

After observing him for a while, you licked your lips. Lowering yourself once again to whisper into his ear, one of your hands grabbed the base of his tail. First you stroked and rubbed that area, then you pulled and yanked on his surprisingly soft tail. “You are doing so good for me, is this really your first? Your cunt is taking me so damn well~” You can’t even imagine how much he shuddered at your words. If he was a younger version of himself, he would have came from your teasing remarks alone. Sigma didn’t want this to end, he wanted to keep getting filled like this until his mind turned mush. All he could say as a response was, “Plea-please..! Fu-fuck me, more..haah…<3”

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ first time, roronoa zoro

zoro being a sexy loser virgin that has no idea just how big he is.

this is unfinished & honestly y’all gone have to deal with it 😩

this was so embarrassing. he hated how he didn’t know what to do. you didn’t mean to make him feel this way; but you just couldn’t take it anymore. you wanted him so bad, it was almost hard to keep your composure in front your friends.

he wanted you twice as badly, and that was evident in the way he could barely present his front side to you any time you gazed at him. it was hard to hide the growing tent in his trousers every time he was with you. whether it was to drop you off to work in his truck or simply fix something for you because you kindly asked.

“s-shit,” he’d pant so large and heavy. his own heartbeat couldn’t keep up with his strokes. “like this? this feel good?”

he doesn’t even know how much he’s hitting into you. there’s only a limit to what you feel, but you feel everything. the way his tip kisses the spongy spot of your cervix, the way his fat dick causes such a small bulge in the fatty chub of your tummy—zoro doesn’t know what he’s doing, but you swear he’s been doing this shit for years.

“just like that,” you’d instruct, feeling yourself about to cum soon. “ngh, y’fucking me so good, papa,” the whine in your voice was strained as you felt a knot already tie in your stomach.

zoro doesn’t lie when he says that your words got to his head. it was like the sudden ego flow in his brain suddenly rushed to the blood of his dick inside you as he worked against you harder. he never thought being called something so…juvenile as daddy would send his hormones through the roof. he had to destroy you now, it was no way the testosterone flowing through his veins were gonna let you leave his grip unscathed.

“just like that, huh,” he hummed to himself. “you like when i touch you like this?” zoro swore he didn’t know what he was doing. but for some reason, his hands explored between your legs as if it had been its home for years each time he touched you.

“oh yes,” you dragged out, feeling a small tingle deep below. “more more, please!” the point of your acrylic nails do its job to scratch white streaks against your man’s breast muscle. now you’re trying your hardest to breathe deeply. “i’m gonna—“

zoro grunts out, feeling the hot beads of sweat trickle down the tan of his ethnic skin. “faster or harder, mama? tell me what you want ‘n i’ll do it for you.”

“harder, please!” you cried, feeling yourself almost get to your peak. “oh fuck, please, zoro.”

zoro can’t help but chuckle at your begging. “you always ask for more when you have tears soaking up your pretty face. not pretty degrading?”

you huff out, feeling your orgasism approach faster at his banter. you try your hardest to focus on the knot forming in your belly. “well you obviously make me like this.”

“tch. ‘m not even fucking you that hard, mama. think you’re jus’ sensitive ‘s all.” zoro kisses his teeth with an unbelievable roll of his eyes.

you have another comeback lined up in your mouth, but your mouth falls agape as your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, finally forming a ring of cream all around his brown shaft. “not when you’re fucking me this good.”

[24-05txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello!! So, I saw an argument about Harry's uhm looks? I guess. A lot of people basically headcanon him as someone buff. I digress, I'm part of the uhm more realistic? group. Harry's been starved and abused his entire life. I doubt he'll gain the weight and the height everyone else wants him to have. Years later. maybe. But in 6th year? While on the run? 3 years after the war? Doubt. do you think he would be able to get super tall and buff? Also, do you think its possible he used the same methods the dursleys used to punish himself?

I mean, anyone can headcanon whatever they want, but, I'll try to explain via quotes, what Harry's height and muscle situation is likely to be. I believe the reasons some headcanon him as buff and tall are:

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

(HBP)

He lifts Mundungus by his throat with one hand easily, and he practices Quidditch like 3 times a week at least. This implies that Harry has some muscle on him.

And he's mentioned to be James' height when he's 17:

James was exactly the same height as Harry.

(DH)

Which was supposedly tall, according to both, Harry:

tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter

(GoF)

And Voldemort:

the tall black-haired man in his glasses

(DH)

Now, let's put Harry's height in the context of other character heights. Particularly of interest are characters taller than him, to get an image of how tall is "tall." And some shorter characters to help figure out his exact height.

Sirius, Ron, Voldemort, and Dumbledore are all taller than Harry and exceptionally tall in general. They are each likely to be over 6 feet tall, making Harry likely less than 6' (183 cm). Supporting this is this quote:

Once the painful transformation was complete he was more than six feet tall, and from what he could tell from his well-muscled arms, powerfully built.

(DH)

This means Harry is less than 6' and isn't super buff. But, I want to get to his specific height, because I have a lot to say about character heights.

Like, Dumbledore is probably the tallest character who isn't a half-giant because he's towering over everyone except Hagrid and Maxime. In book 6, he's literally taller than all the inferi in the cave:

Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too,

(HBP)

And Abeforth (who's as tall as Dumbledore) is taller than Ron, who's one of the other tallest characters in the books:

Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.

(DH)

Making the Dumbledores really tall. My estimate is around a whooping 6'5 (195 cm).

Sirius is mentioned to be taller than Snape, and the tallest Marauder:

said Sirius, standing up. He was rather taller than Snape

(OotP)

To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter

(DH)

A head, in height, should be around one foot (30.48 cm). As the average height of a man in England in 1998 was around 5'8 (174.4 cm), this would make Sirius around 6'2 (188 cm), therefore taller than average, and Pettigrew around 5'2 (157 cm), shorter than the average, but still both at a reasonable height.

Ron is almost as tall as the twins at 11:

“Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

(PS)

And, just, really tall in general:

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball.

(OotP)

So I estimate Ron at around 6'3 (190 cm).

Voldemort who grew up on war rations is still described very consistently as tall, regardless of childhood malnourishment:

He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale

(HBP)

tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

(HBP)

Taller than Bellatrix (who's taller than Harry). Voldemort is also considerably taller than Pettigrew, as he has to bend to reach Pettigrew's arm when both are standing:

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow

(GoF)

I usually place Voldemort at around the same height as Ron, so 6'3 (190 cm).

Fred and George, though, are mentioned to be shorter and stockier, more similar to Molly's build:

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky.

(GoF)

but are mentioned to shrink to become Harry in book 7:

Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Fred, and George were shrinking

(DH)

I actually place the twins around 6' (183 cm) so they could be taller than Harry, but shorter than Ron. The twins are likely taller than Charlie.

Bellatrix, as a woman, should also be shorter on average, but considering how tall Sirius is mentioned to be, it appears the Blacks are just considerably taller than the average, even the women:

a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort

(OotP)

She was taller than he was, her long black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him;

(DH)

So I place her at around 6' (183 cm) as well, as an exceptionally tall lady.

So where does this place Harry?

During the first 4 books, Harry is short and small for his age. When he's 13, he and Hermione are bit shorter than Pettigrew:

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione.

(PoA)

(Ron, noticeably, is taller than Pettigrew at 13)

So, so Harry at 13 was around 5'1 (155 cm). And so was Hermione.

Then in between books 4 and 5 puberty kicks in and probably causes a slight growth spurt that makes him more attractive to girls around him:

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however:

(OotP)

And then he has another, larger growth spurt between books 5 and 6:

“You’re like Ron,” she [Molly] sighed, looking him up and down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes.

(HBP)

“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially. [Ron is objectively correct]

(HBP)

Post book 6 growth spurt, we know Harry is below 6' (183 cm) but close enough to 6' to be above the average of 5'8 (174.4 cm) and be considered "tall", and grow "about a foot" after said growth spurt.

I personally place his height at 5'11 (180 cm), to make all of the above make sense.

And while he is physically fit, he is likely very thin from years of malnourishment. So, he likely has some muscle on him, but he's very lean with little to no fat during his Hogwarts years (he'd likely gain more weight as an adult living peacefully with regular meals). So, Harry in the books isn't what I'd call buff, but he has some muscle and can definitely throw a punch. As he grows older post-canon, I think he could get buff if he set his mind to it.

(I actually have notes about the height of a bunch of other characters. Hermione is shorter than Harry and Ron, but noticeably taller than Ginny (5'2 or 157 cm) and probably around 5'4 (162 cm) by book 7. Draco is said to be slightly taller than Harry "Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was" - DH, placing Draco at around 6' (183 cm))

For your other question, no, I don't think Harry self-harms, definitely not in any way related to the Dursleys, but that's a different post because I went off about heights.

[nyonismywife]

RANFREN HEADCANONS:

Luther:

Was researching humans when he first decided he wanted to be one. Found out they're 60% water. Is now hellbent on making sure everyone is hydrated

Only formed a family because he thought it was what humans are supposed to do

Only reason he got Randal a pet human is because he was tired of Randal terrorising his catmen and wanted to teach him some responsibility

Has been around for so long that he's had at least one cult formed around him. The cult has long since disbanded, however

Used to be ALOT more evil in his 'youth'. Even more so than Randal. A truly horrifying entity. That was a long time ago, though. He's a nice young human man now

Sometimes Randal REALLY pisses him off. Like A LOT. But Luther reminds himself that this is just 'Randal's Rebellious Phase'. (Even though Randal's been in the same age range for years)

Randal:

I don't really have any for Randal. Let me think of some

Is incredibly good at biology, sucks at the other sciences

Otaku

Can't keep friends but somehow keeps making them

These were pretty weak. Sorry bout that. Anyways..

Nyen:

Doesn't feel a shred of embarrassment or shame about existing as a cat for Luther despite being a grown man (feels no shame about being pet, purring, making biscuits etc and thinks anyone that thinks he should feel that way is a weirdo)

Knows Luther usually likes his catmen's faces smooth but sometimes neglects shaving because he likes when Luther does it for him (drawn from a canon image)

Doesn't like smoking weed and sometimes judges Nyon for it but has no problem drinking beer and smoking tobacco

Thinks he's all that

Bullies Nyon but Nyon is literally one of his only friend besides Luther

His backstory is like the most simple thing ever with no trauma or anything. He was just a regular guy that got into a car crash or something and Luther revived him

His opinions about Kurt Cobain have always been the same even before he became a catman

Harasses Nyon whenever Nyon tries to do pushups or pullups or anything resembling arm workouts because he wants to be the only pet with beefy arms (he likes when Luther compliments his muscles (drawn from canon))

Inherited parts of Luther's violence

Nyon:

Epitome of nonchalance

Seems to have been around with Luther for a WHILE as well. (Guessing because he likes reading Fyodor novels for "nostalgic reasons" and Fyodor was around in the 1800s)

His life was better after he joined Luther's presence

Probably fought in at least one war

Remembers EVERYTHING from his past life but just doesn't talk about it. If you ask, he'll give you silence and go back to whatever he was doing. The conditions for hearing his backstory are so rare. You'd need to find him at 4:23am while he's greening out in a loaf position on the ground and even then there's only a 15% chance of him telling you. If he ever did tell you how he came to be what he is, it'd be the most bizarre, otherworldly and brilliant damn story you ever heard. Then you'd wake up the next day and, strangely, you wouldn't remember any of it anymore..? Like it was a snippet of a dream

He likes Nyen's abuse if he's in the mood for it (this is actually a little canon)

Has so many connections to so many different weed dealers it's actually ridiculous.

Inherited parts of Luther's timidity (yes, Luther is indeed shown to be a bit timid at times)

..bottom.

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Just sexual tension in this chap hehe, more explicit as we go. Gojo is really a dick at first FYI

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 4.2k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? . You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished. This was my first gojo fic so maybe a Lil less put together than my current ones

Masterlist-

Chapter 1

You looked up at him from your desk. You were tired, so damn tired. You needed a fucking break, a long one. Your mind wanders to that vacation away from Tokyo that will never happen, not because you don’t have vacation days or money. Nope, it was  because you work far too fucking much, twelve to sixteen hour days sometimes. For him, your damn boss, Satoru Gojo.

Always asking you to stay late, always running his errands, saving his ass, covering for him. Writing speeches, making presentations, finding him dates even. When Gojo wanted something, he got it, and it didn't matter if it ruined every plan you ever had, you had to get it done for him.

He ran casinos, owned a hotel, a nightclub, you name it, Satoru Gojo owned it. He’d inherited some from his family but mostly he was self made. Even the tower you worked in, Kamo Tower, was one of the best in the city. Everything Gojo touched seemed to turn to gold, or better yet platinum.

You had been so excited two years ago to be his intern, then ecstatic when you quickly moved up the ranks to be his head assistant. You made good money, enough to send home to your family and take care of them too. But you literally were constantly at that man's beck and call.

Your tired eyes lower as you rest your chin on your hand for a moment, for even last night at two am you'd had to run to his fucking rescue.

You were asleep, but the phone never stops fucking buzzing.

Dick boss: I need you.

You: no.

Dick boss: triple OT pay?

You: fuck. What is it?

Dick Boss: I'm in a bit of a bind…

The bind? Three passed out naked women in his bed, and a room destroyed, that he needed to get fixed so he could sleep. Yeah.

The night before? Well he had urgently needed you to pick out his outfit for his soiree, he was too coked out to pick apparently. And Gojo Satoru had so many three piece suits, ties and shoes, it was actually disgusting.

Nanami Kento walks up to you, overworked from his own boss in the building, a trait you two share as head assistants. He hands you a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, with your name written on it in sharpie, clearly from one of the coffee shops nearby. If you had time to have a fucking life you would have flirted with him, for sure. Maybe he would have, too?

Dirty blonde and handsome, his suit stretched across his muscles just so… and fuck if he didn’t look like he needed a damn vacation too.

“Long night?” Kento asked, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused and tired expression on his face. You sigh, nodding.

“Thank you for the coffee. I owe ya one.” You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper, but he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all. Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know.

“We don’t really get birthdays.”

“Haha no we don’t. But thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looked disgusted as he shook his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as Nanami walked off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, you must go to him. Your eyes roll.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, tapping your glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“My office.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was a source of annoyance for you.

“Coming.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and sipping your coffee. The office coffee usually went cold daily with the amount of shit you had to do. You smooth down your dress, adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, woodsy and fresh, a signature fragrance that lingered in the space, distinctive to Gojo.

As you enter, you see Gojo himself reclining casually in a lavish chair, his signature Gucci sunglasses on, covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciated because he made shit hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

“Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all.” He smirked, arrogant. You grit your teeth. “You have two meetings today, Sir, one for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that, I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.” You sigh, shutting the door behind you, resting your aching head against it.

“I asked for tonight off.” You murmur, and Gojo scoffs, grinning, damn fangs like some vampire glinting from the sun that beamed in. He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“I'll pay you well. Plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit. Drinks and food.”

“As your date?” You blink, pursing your lips.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario.” He laughed at his own joke, a habit he certainly had.

“Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially me . I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy. I need you, law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too. So it’s a no brainer.” You sighed, the comment about eye candy biting.

Men hit on you pretty frequently, any time you weren’t working, which you could not say was very often. But of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to look like a model, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty… is what you're saying.”

He pauses then, frowning at you. “You're very pretty.” He'd never said that. He'd barely complimented your work. You catch your breath; looking up at him, curious how he had gotten just an inch away.

“‘Not eye candy.’”

“We'll no, you dress kinda boring… like business and shit. Not sexy at all. I mean I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit?”

You snort. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks. But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.” Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted.

You were almost immune to that by now.

“It's my fucking birthday and you want me to do overtime?” You demand, and frowns with those full lips.

“Birthday?” Gojo looks confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient.

“Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe. But it’s my third birthday here, and you never give me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have plans, hot shot?” Gojo chuckles, his tone mocking.

No. Sure don't. “Yep.” You lie. He knows.

“Cancel em.” He shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl.

“No.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments.

“No?” No one turned Gojo down. No one ever told the gorgeous CEO no. His six foot four frame hunched as he placed an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features. You bravely glare back up at him.

“No. Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday.”

“Have fun with me. And make killer money. Win win.”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm.” He tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact. “I'll make it fun. Promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

“I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too.”

“You're my best, though, I need you.”

Bastard.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a breath as he backs away. “Good. I'll have the outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this one.”

“Probably not. Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?” Your cheeks overheat. Though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a damn vagina, and it reacted to him. He chuckled deeply, turning away and waving a hand. “You're dismissed.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just work. Work for Gojo.

***

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh.” You grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup, for once having fun with it. If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it. Lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your white day bed. You sigh, opening it finally, and you blink rapidly as you look at the gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of Gojo himself. You gently pulled out the gown and most of your irritation died off.

Black and decked with sequins, it glittered in the light, it was a velvety fabric, as soft as a caress. As you slid it on it glided over your curves, accentuating the nip at your waist, the arch of your hips. The neckline plunged ridiculously low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work. You wonder how Gojo knew you had just so much up top…

Pervert is what he was.

Pervert with killer taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your well toned thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was if he truly knew every measurement you had, for the dress could not have hit any better. Those damn analyzing eyes of his…

You spun to look at the back of the dress, which dipped daringly as well, exposing an expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You rummage through your little cherry wood jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress. Luckily, everything went well with black, so you snatched up a pretty silver cross necklace and earrings.

A text pops up, and you read it.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, then slide on a pair of black heeled boots, contemplating putting on underwear. Did it matter what kind? It wasn’t like you’d had any dick since like college at this point. And you definitely weren’t fucking Gojo, since neither of you were interested.

You because you saw the girls he fucked. Him because… you weren’t ‘arm candy’. Or a dumb ass bimbo. Sometimes you wished you were, since they seemed sweet and happy in life, while you drowned.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…”

Fucking Gojo. Ugh. You decide to slide on some lacy boy shorts, just in case that slit did go too high you’d have some coverage. Peeking one last time at the mirror, you had to admit you looked beautiful. You text Gojo.

You: Coming now.

You locked up and headed down the stairs of the apartment building, and there was Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was your age now. That boggled your mind more than Nanami. Gojo wore people out, very clearly, but even you had it easier than Kiyotaka.

“My lady.” He said sweetly, and you smiled at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head rested back so that his throat was exposed. His head snapped down, and he looked right at you, no sunglasses, only those eyes. His lips parted, and you tensed, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one.

He blinked those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shut the door, gaze taking you in ever so slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head a bit.

“Thank you for the dress.” You cut him off. He exhaled, nodding.

“Of course. Consider it my birthday gift. You look… really fucking hot.”

You giggled at that. Not beautiful or breathtaking. But you’d take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you now, and you shiver a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t dress like this at work.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so.” His fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sent tingles through your body. Why was he so close? “I’m buying you a new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are. I like to be professional, unlike you.” You smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grew cold without the touch.

“You do really look good.” You took in his outfit, a black tux, which fit his slim muscles perfectly. It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear. Maybe Gojo was some super hero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too. You always do.”

“I know.” He winked at you, leaning forward to snatch up champagne and pop it, pouring you both glasses. You took one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, taking a sip of the sweet drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious.” You lick your lower lip and find him a breath away. You don’t move, but you’re frozen, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asked softly. You have never seen Gojo like this.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl.” He gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? The fuck, Satoru. Yes I was thinking of it, an seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny. His eyes study your own seriously.

“If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.” Each word was bit out, distinctive, and his hand tightened in your hair, far too strong, yanking your head back. You scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, would I?” You challenged him, notching your chin up a bit. He laughed but it was without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office? How many have you had to send home? You think I don’t know how to fuck the shit out of you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t even be able to walk.”

Gojo’s whisper was against your lips, and you could taste whiskey on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucked on. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him…

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it. You don’t want me anyway. Not your type.” He snorted, and one of his big hands came to your waist, touching the bare skin of your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?” You nod. His thumb brushed under your breast, an action that made the peaks of your breasts tighten, aching against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down. You cursed yourself. “The women who entertain me aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm.” It grew difficult to focus. You sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightened, and it made you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any. I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off of you. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know. I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

“As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit.” You grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slapped him then. Slapped your Boss. Slapped Satoru Gojo.

His hand caught your wrist, brutally squeezing, pale cheek just hinted with pink from your mark.

“Ring a little true?”

“I can get fucked if I want.” You yank your hand back.

“I didn’t say that. Clearly you can get fucked. It’s just you don’t even want to and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time.” Gojo’s eyes widened at that, and his grip on your waist became brutal. “Yep. Sure would. He’s built as fuck, oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would. So does that answer it for you?”

Gojo bared his teeth at her, a little blue vein in his temple popping out. Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears. “You… would fuck… Nanami… Kento?”

Each of his words were forced through his teeth.

Ah, you made him mad.

Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot.” You try to shrug casually.

“Out of anyone in the office?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Including me.”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a dude…

Look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his piercing one. You gulp, licking your lips.

“No.”

“No, what?” His voice was a wicked caress.

“No… not including you. Goddammit. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffed. “You’re childish.”

“You!” You shoved at him again, and he let you go, grabbing your glass and refilling it, watching you like a hawk. “It changes nothing. I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better.” He sounded sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downed his own glass.

“You think fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot. I’m the best fuck there is.” He shrugged, some of that casual demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…”

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words.” You scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by.

“Are we there yet?”

“Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm. Or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag.”

“I do not! And I am not!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You felt your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks.

“Oh, do tell.” He practically purred.

“Cut the shit, Satoru. You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off in women. Or on them.” He shrugged, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!”

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe.” You blinked, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.” Gojo lifted your hand, already small but ridiculously small in his own, swallowed by him. “They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper shook you to your core.

You burned, breathless, as he held out his own hand to yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of a dude’s dick. Likely larger than the couple of dude’s in college, which was about all of your experience. He grinned as you stared on, palm hot and hard against your own.

“I… you…” You wanted to cuss him out. Quit right then.

You also wanted his fingers in you.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood. We don’t have to have sex for that.” His hand took your own, putting your hand by your heat, between your thighs.

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You managed to breathe out, but you had no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to ride your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant.” Gojo’s supple lips kiss down your jaw, firm but delicate, as his hand brutally grabs yours and shoves it against yourself, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a whisper. You want it. And you hate him. You hate that your pussy is pulsing against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan in your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came. Gojo slid his own finger against your panties, pausing, moaning again, pulling back to look at you.

He was gorgeous.

Your chest rose and fell with your breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and something was just different. You saw Gojo with women, always so self assured. But something seemed surprised, vulnerable, when his long finger pressed against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. You arched your hips up, and his fingertip ran up slightly, pressing more, and Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady.”

Fuck.

You two shot apart, and you struggled to catch your breath, adjusting your dress, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo adjusted his pants, not even looking at you, clearing his throat. You cursed as you saw his tie.

“You can’t tie a tie for shit, Satoru.” You leaned over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it. You noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was quiet. Satoru Gojo, quiet. “There.”

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, and your eyes met.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opened the door, exposing them to some cool night air, and you got out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

Chapter 2

Completed fic on ao3, will post chaps on here as well

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140629990

[vesperane]

catalepsy

✎ What could be better than spending the last warm days of September in your boyfriend’s lap?

cw: leon being a daddy :³, fluff(ish), reader on the crack!! (doing some coke and shiii), semi public sex, dumbification, fingering, d in v, size kink, age diff, fem! reader, MDNI

Vegas to L.A., L.A. to Vegas, and Vegas to California. Then Italy. Your on-again, off-again relationship with Leon, which has been going on for a while (okay, let’s say about a whole year), is the epitome of chaos. Mobility and jeopardy. Lots of money. Your old life bears no shred of resemblance to the seconds you are spending now. You used to be an employee at the Graham mansion, a girl who would snoop in Ashley’s bedroom at midnight and drink the nectar between her legs until the morning. That changed when the president found out that his daughter was sleeping with some dumb no-name girl (you!). Wild times, man. No wonder your dismissal came with the first light of the next day. It wasn’t a pretty story after that; at bottom, no money, no happily ever after. 

But luckily Ashley introduced you to him. Leon Kennedy. The man who will hire you to babysit the child he begot from a one-night stand. Oh, boy. Why, what can you say? The guy was tough, hot, but stone cold. At first, he was dead straight. But the years thresh everyone with grief and a lot of bullshit emotions in the name of experience. Say it’s because he liked the way you esteemed his son, or something else you don’t know, but the more time you spent with him, the good-natured his mettle grew. Gradually and incrementally. Sure, you looove money, but you’re no gold digger. A bond of trust, little glimmers of respect, and, of course, the sweet chemistry between the two of you spawned something very unique and new. 

Hold on a second. Where does this money come from? 

You did question it. Over and over. If you got an answer, all the better. Of course, getting unambiguous answers from the mouth of a man like Leon is a big hassle; it always makes your stomach twist, it puts you on edge, and your abdominal muscles and heart squeeze so tightly that you think you must be knocked up with his child, even though the tests come back negative. You are just so silly. 

So what? It’s not a big deal. He fucking loves you. Who gives a sod about the crass mistakes you guys made in the past? He loves you so much that if he ever releases you from his lap for just a second, his brain will be tangled, scratched, scribbled, all fucked up. Like the embers of police sirens flashing blue and red in the darkness. Like 21-year-old rookie Leon’s brain, struggling to fall to sleep in the bed of a shit-strewn hotel he found at random. That Leon, a loser who broke out of Raccoon City years ago.

He doesn’t know why he’s hung up on you when he knows he shouldn’t be so attached to anyone. All he wants is to spend quality time with his pretty baby. All the time. 

The only reason for the fever in your loins, especially right now with your ass in his lap. Sundress clings to your body angelically, the tulle over your lovely skin. Well, that’s why he calls you an angel. Leon devotes his life to that apparition, to you, namely. 

“Thought you wanted to go skinny-dipping?” He knows. He knows you can’t leave him for the warm waters of the Mediterranean. Not right now, you know, since there’s no pedantic baby for you to babysit right now. Understand, he’s a sweet boy, Leon’s little boy. But what would he be doing on vacation, right? On your very own private and personal vacation, obviously. It’s just you and your boyfriend, and that Diet Pepsi sippy cup with the stardust in it that you’ve leaked a pinch or two into. What a late summertime activity.

“Maybe for tonight and definitely with you,” you say it omnisciently. A short sip of coke and nothing is stopping you from lacing kisses on lips that are cherry and pulverized pink from your previous kisses, letting him taste the tiny vestiges of vanilla icys that linger on your lips, and seconds later when you slip your tongue between his to get him as high as you are in the heart of late afternoon. Leon and getting high only go the way of neat whiskey, but you’re the kind of twist that changes his rules, the kind he takes for granted. 

When his palms find your ass snug and trace your flesh with steely resolve over the top of your dress, the kiss is only broken in that very second, a sharp shake of breath drifting between your glossy lips. 

“Oww, I already told you I don’t like my ass all purple,” your repining tonal laments with a sass that is both habitual and secretly endearing to him. And you’re lying. You like your ass purple and flushed after some good spanking from him. 

“What a crybaby you turned out to be.” Leon is, as you know, cynical. His blues are coarse; the halo of the afternoon sun striking his face through his eyelashes gives them a shade of verdant teal.

It’s nothing new that he repeatedly catches you looking at his face. His face is so pretty, you can’t help it. Observant, of course, as is his job. Still, watching you contemplate him under your starry-eyed gaze tugs at his heartstrings. To fall in fucking love like this after 40 is damn near unhealthy. 

He loves you when he lifts your dress and catches the licentious view he wants to capture; he loves you when you refused to put your panties on when you left your hotel room and went out for brunch on the terrace. Especially the notch you make as the air is ripped out of your lungs, embodying your purity, is everything for Leon. It’s heart-stopping, which is why it doesn’t bode well for his heart. What if he fucking died of a heart attack? Uh-oh. The alcohol (and earlier bout of seizures that lasted for a while before you) had already fucked up and altered his body enough. Oh, meh.

“Got wet, hmmm?” Captain Obvious can’t be more serious. But he sounds adorable, so you don’t say anything to put him off. Over and above that, his thumbing of the clam of your clit is a fucking must-have class. 

“How the hell have you been sitting like this all morning? My poor girl.” Simultaneously, his head lifts up and his finger dips into your wetness; your pussy fits just nicely; he leers at you, straight into your eyes. It’s affectionate, yeah, but his eyes are... you don’t know. There’s something about them. 

“Dunno,” you gasp out, “maybe just to keep you from overworking yourself, old man,” you tighten up, but even that doesn’t stop you from throwing in an allusion to his given age.

“Sure, baby, sure, you’re just makin’ sure the old man stays safe.” His quirky drawl rings in your ears as your clit tinkles on his thumb. The sight is a blessing for him, but of course the cock menu before the evening hits is what you want, and in the night, he wants your pussy; he wants to eat you out before a good night sleep. It’s a must.

Leon finds it funny; it’s cute, and it’s a hernia precursor chore, but it’s another matter that he plays rather meanly with your clit, parsing and stroking the pulp until the puck flickers on his thumb. It’s the fingers, sculpted by years of drill, that you cum on the spot.

Pathetic.

The grains of fizzy cola splashed from the pint in your hand and the liquid that washes over you—that’s pathetic. The mess on the navy blue shirt Leon decided to throw on at the last minute, too.

He’s not mad; don’t even worry about that stuff. 

Isn’t that just mutual love? Aww. Then, of course, it won’t be long before you’re whining and pestering the hell out of him, and he’s taking the glass full of coke from your hand to place it on the table behind you so he can take the shaft of his cock and smack it into your warm, sucking hole, the leaky tip wetting the even wetter entrance. 

“I do assure you I can perfectly fuck a little baby into this pretty pussy,” he whinges, throaty. Dirty talk is on the spot.

Everybody craves an afterglow, and men like Leon crave a good fuck, precisely a pretty girl bouncing on his dick on his vacation. That’s the norm.

You do the rest anyway, taking him nicely and squeezing the dick little by little, lingering until a little bump forms in your tummy; it’s just what the book says. He’s big, no lies. It’s nothing new. 

“Fuuuucks,” are panted out. You both do it. You because of that pain and sheer pleasure, and he just has pleasure; his pain is for much disparate motives. There’s always a desire to sink himself deeper, but you are always tight, wet, too, thank God, but just too tight for him to sculpt your insides around his cock. 

“Fuck, Leon. F—fuck.”

When he bottoms out, your pitch is invariably more slurred and more aggressive, and your pussy plays like a virgin for him. You can hardly even hold your head up; it’s so heavy.

It’s the voice of his in your head that brings you back to the Mediterranean afternoon when you feel like you’re caving in, like you’re just about to split in half. Beautifully.

“Baby, you’ll get us kicked out of this damn hotel,” his cautionary lulling is in your ears at last. Who cares? He’s got the dough; he can hire; hell, he can buy a whole hotel building. 

“Shh, you ain’t gonna pass out on me now, doll.” Somewhere in his voice there’s distress, but his expectant gaze on you is dense. Still, he doesn’t act like a complete asshole and assuredly grips your hips to tuck you back, right on the mean dick. Next thing you know, he’s tattooing your cervix as he jacks you like a doll, his doll, on his thick cock. Raw as always, so what’s a condom? That’s what the pill is for. 

The magic of kisses, sloppy blows on the lips, the trick of a cock that fires bullets in and out of you, busing your clit, rocks the whole world away, and rattles the chaise lounge beneath you. You’re already a goner. Like hell. Blood and sweat, metaphorically speaking, but that’s not going to fetch the man cumming within you after your second orgasm. You can complain later, ‘cause realistically, no man could be that good. But Leon’s the best of the best, so who knows? Maybe he’s been in this business many times before you, with pretty girls and inside even prettier pussies.

The very thought that makes your heart skitter inside urges you to cling to him and shove your face into his chest. It’s something he wasn’t expecting, so Leon almost hesitates to cradle your face.

“Looking so pretty — pretty — fucking pretty,” he grates his teeth again and again.

He’s cumming, nowhere that fast, but deep, sticky, cozy, and adhesive. It’s not the most satisfying aftermath in this summer heat, but your cunt is still milking deliciously (greedily) what’s leaking into her. It’s exactly in these moments that Leon realizes once again that you will always accept him no matter what.

Fuck it, he should just make you his controversially younger wife.

And he has got some plans in his mind, well assured.

The companionable silence between you is something; how the sun filters down over the horizon, and how your breathing is now regaining its normal rhythm; his balls are now much lighter. How romantic.

“When will you marry me?" 

His question is an impulsive one that pierces the stillness. Is this guy serious, or is he just fucking with you? Are you too high? Oh man, it was just a little pinch of crack cocaine in the cola. Can’t be that loaded, right?

Your lack of words and the fog on your face are too opium; it’s like a sugar high. What a silly girl you are, his girl. In sooth, while he’s still inside you, he needs to ask you one more time, “The ring is in the room. I shit you not. We gotta call it a wedding.” Just say yes already.

[tiredfox64]

Any chance we could get some of bihan (possibly his brothers as well, if you feel like it) s/o who's very sensitive and not super socially aware embarrassing the shit out of him in public with mushy nicknames and mentioning embarrassing romantic moments and giving him a little kissy in public. And his partners very softhearted and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings by saying anything so he just has to endure it.

A Heart Made of Soft Ice

Yip notes: GUESS WHO FELT GUILTY AND FORCED HERSELF TO FINISH THIS EVEN THO SHE IS BEHIND ON ASSIGNMENTS ALREADY ;-;

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Too sick to proofread fully, also embarrassment I guess

We all know the saying opposites attract. Have you ever tried to push two magnets together and they keep avoiding each other because they are on the same side and you get really frustrated—why are you crying?

Let’s cut to the chase since tears are falling now. It’s a wonder that you work so well with Bi-Han. Ya know, the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei who wishes to be feared and can’t accept his adoptive brother who has been living with him for many years. Oh yeah, a match made in purgatory.

It’s a relationship that shocks many. A cold-blooded killer with a woman who cries during animal documentaries when the prey gets captured is not the usual pairing. You’re delicate like porcelain while Bi-Han is an actual ice wall. He can’t be nice to Tomas whenever he speaks his mind but the moment you speak about something that bothered you he’ll shut his mouth and listen to what you have to say. He even puts in the effort to do other expressions instead of scowling the whole time because he doesn’t want you to believe he’s mad at you. The best he can give is raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes a little, take it or leave it. He has a resting bitch face.

Many have asked you how you could be with that man. Well, it’s very simple actually. When it comes to you he tries his best to cool off. He could be mad at everyone else for the smallest reasons but the moment he looks at you he uses all his might to calm down. If he doesn’t he knows he will scare you or make you think that he is mad at you for no reason. In all honesty, he can’t afford to lose you. You know how hard it was to make you trust him? It’s like befriending a raven you can’t look at them even when they are eating out the palm of your hand.

But he genuinely needs you. You make him feel balanced. When he’s all cold and stern you soften him up like a candle to a glacier. It’s not much but it’s honest work. It probably saves his ass from making rash decisions as well. Heaven knows he gets himself into too much trouble by himself.

And when he’s in those moments where he’s silent and listening to you speak as he cools off you can do whatever. Shoot, you can call him whatever you want. Possibly something like—

“SNOOKUMS!”

Yeah, that.

Your voice echoes through the halls and into the ears of Lin Kuei warriors. Everyone pauses, processing the word you just yelled out. What’d you say? Snookie? What the hell is a Snookie? Well, you’re Bi-Han’s woman so maybe he knows…probably knows…definitely knows.

It’s the look in his eyes that tells everyone he knows. Wide and blank but his eyebrows are not arched in a confused manner. His arms were folded and his nails dug into his tense muscles. The dots connect with everyone and they slowly start looking at their grandmaster. Another yell emitted and grew louder as you came closer

“SNOOKUMS—Oh there you are!” You replied in a cheery tone. It’s much better than that banshee yell that radiates panic and desperation for your Snookums aka Bi-Han.

You run over to your loving boyfriend with a blanket wrapped around you because it will forever be too cold in Arctika. You hugged him tightly, not paying any mind to his bugged-out eyes. It’s horrifying to see him that way considering he is a man who is 80% of the time narrowing his eyes and 20% staring at others with murderous intent. But this stare is all a big question of what he is supposed to do about you. You already yelled that silly nickname and now you’re hugging him like he isn’t a man that’s supposed to be feared.

Some of the clansmen had the nerve to start snickering a little, finding your display of affection to be ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous that Bi-Han is allowing this. But their snickering was silenced when Bi-Han slammed his foot on the ground, causing a patch of jagged ice to form and make its way to the clansmen before stopping short. He quickly covered your ears to prevent you from hearing his yell.

“Get back to training! I will not hesitate to dispose of those who are unworthy of taking the Lin Kuei seriously!”

Silence ripped through the room before everyone went back to training. Bi-Han slowly dropped his hands from your ears and you pretended like you didn’t hear his outburst. Blissful ignorance is a wonderful thing. He grabbed your wrist, a little too hard for your liking, and dragged you away till you two were a good distance away from everyone else. He let go of your wrist and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“Why must you yell that-“ he paused to prevent hurting your feelings by saying the nickname Snookums is stupid, “name when you could have easily kept quiet and looked around the temple.”

His words were not taken in since you were focused on rubbing your wrist. He watched as you looked up at him with wet eyes. Sadness is an understatement, despair and betrayal are the correct terms for how you were feeling. Oh gods, he could kick a kitten in the middle of a blizzard and it wouldn’t even look at him like that.

You felt a ball form in your throat, making it difficult to swallow. Your nostrils flared up and a heavy huff was being produced by you. And then the whining.

“Mmmmmm.”

No…

“Mmmmmmmmm!”

Hold it together…

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmeh heh heh heh!”

Wha-What the fuck—Cartman?

Your whines rose in volume and Bi-Han immediately reacted. He covered your mouth to muffle your sadness and tried to de-escalate the situation before your eyes went puffy from tears. He’s nodding his head no while staring you down. From your position, you believed he was angry at you for crying. You know he could never be mad at you but he is feeling a little panicky as he tried to figure out a way to stop you from crying.

“Shh, shh, stop—I’m not mad at you,” he said in his deep voice which didn’t help convince you that he wasn’t mad. The only way he can truly make you stop is by pulling out the big guns aka giving you a hug. He just needs to look around first to see if the coast is clear.

Bi-Han let out a low groan before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you. It’s like a weighted blanket was wrapped around you before an anaconda decided to come around and squeeze you till you stopped crying. He managed to calm you down and you returned the hug while still sniffling. The idea that Bi-Han was not mad at you had set in and you finally felt calm. Maybe not Bi-Han, his eyes were shifting all around trying to make sure no one walked in on him being all lovey dovey.

“Can I stay with you while you train everyone?” You asked.

Bi-Han really, really, REALLY wanted to tell you to go back into the bedroom and wait for him to return. But with that tone you asked him in and your already shaken-up emotions, it would be a disaster to tell you not to stay.

“Yes…you may stay, but you need to keep quiet for the sake of everyone. You must not distract anyone as they are training.” He’s just making an excuse but you will listen to him.

“Okay!” You replied in a cheery tone.

You two stopped hugging and returned back to where everyone else was. You clung to your blanket while walking side by side with Bi-Han. Now please oh please do not show your affection for him in front of others. He loves you but he also likes it when others fear him.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well…you kept quiet…still doesn’t mean you weren’t lovey dovey in your own way.

It is pretty cute to see Bi-Han with a blanket wrapped around him while you stand in front of him, holding onto the ends of the blanket to make sure you both stay wrapped. It’s only ruined by the fact that he is staring icy dagger at anyone who even snorts. But you don’t know that. You’re in your own happy world where it’s just you and Bi-Han. And in this happy little world, you’re reminded of all the lovely times you and him were actually alone. Times where you would be cuddling in bed as you told him the most basic things ever such as how you saw a chipmunk that day. Meanwhile, Bi-Han is hugging you from behind as his mind rages on about something that Tomas did that isn’t really something to be mad about. Another happy memory came up but this time you vocalized about it.

“Oh Bibi, when we go back to the bedroom can I play with your hair?” His head snapped to look at you right after you said that.

Deep breath in…deep breath out…deep breath in…don’t yell at your girlfriend breath out…

Nearby you both could hear Tomas whisper to Kuai Liang, “I knew he would let her do that,” which almost sent Bi-Han into a fit. He luckily managed to keep it together while his nails dug into the palm of his hand from how hard he was clenching his fists. He nodded slightly, hoping that if he gave you a yes you wouldn’t say anything else. But guess what, YA DID!

“Yay! I can't wait to brush your hair and use my Cinnamoroll hair claw to put it up. You look so good with it up. Oh, what else should I put in your hair?” You let out a gasp like you just came up with the best idea ever, “What if I put a flower clip near your left ear? That means you can show off that you’re in a relationship with me. I’ll try to find a blue flower for you, Bibi.”

Alright, that’s genuinely a cute image to think of. That doesn’t stop Bi-Han from staring at you and questioning why he needs to use a flower to represent his relationship status. Everyone knows he is dating you, how much evidence does he need? Nobody even feels like what you said was silly. It’s adorable how much you love Bi-Han and want to show that you two are together. Even his brothers are gushing about it.

“Aww…you wish that was you with Harumi, huh?” Tomas whispered to Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang looked at Tomas like he just lost his damn mind. Let’s just return to the sweet couple that is you and Bi-Han.

Your excitement was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone laughing. It was clearly to laugh at you, not with you. You looked over your shoulder to look at the Lin Kuei warrior who decided to laugh at you.

“What is with you and trying to make our grandmaster seem like a spineless weakling? What’s next? Are you going to put makeup on him to make him look prettier? Paint his nail?”

The more the clansman spoke, the more embarrassed you felt. You had no idea you were making your boyfriend look weak in front of his clan. That was never your intention. You always want to support Bi-Han while also getting the full experience of having a partner who allows you to do anything. You turned to look at Bi-Han again and mouthed an “I’m sorry” to him. That knot came back once again and you felt tears form in your pretty eyes. This hurt worse than when you thought Bi-Han was mad at you. Your lip quivered and you felt that whine rise in your throat before you felt Bi-Han’s lips on your forehead. He gave you a kiss on your forehead that was gentle but lasted for a few good seconds. He then removed the blanket from you two and rewrapped it around you. You had no idea what he was doing but oh it was a surprise for many.

Bi-Han moved in the blink of an eye. One second he was next to you and the next he was in front of the clansman who insulted you, his neck being strangled by your boyfriend’s hand. A path of ice was left behind which explained his quick movement. He then slammed the clansman hard against the ground. The sound of a bone cracking could be heard along with the thudding of the body hitting the ground. No one knew what bone just broke but the clansman sure would know. He was out in an instant. For a second, you believed Bi-Han killed a member of his clan. On closer inspection, you can see their chest rising and lowering slowly. They were luckily still alive though horribly injured.

There was silence before your boyfriend yelled, “Does anyone else wish to question their grandmaster’s authority or my partner’s choices?”

Everyone nodded no. A wise choice.

“Good. Now this will be the last time I tell all of you to get back to training!” Bi-Han yelled before returning to you.

No one bothered to help the other guy he had it coming. Plus, everyone is scared that if they helped him, their grandmaster would go after their throats next. Just work around him.

You wrapped your arms around Bi-Han’s neck and squeezed him close to you, “Bibi, you know you didn’t have to hurt that guy. I could have handled his insults.” No, you couldn’t.

“Aww, but you just love me so much that you want to protect me. You’re like a woolly mammoth. All fuzzy and possibly cuddly but a big, tough guy overall. You’re my woolly mammoth.”

Oh gosh, not the woolly mammoth comparison. Anything but that. He’d take a snow leopard but a woolly mammoth?

You started kissing him wherever you could, mostly on his jawline. He’s secretly ticklish there. He was emitting his low groan the whole time but secretly he liked it. How could he not? No matter what you do, what you call him, what you talk about, he will love you at the end of the day. A real man would endure the embarrassment. Bi-Han sure is a man.

A man who goes by the nicknames of Snookums, Bibi, and now Wooly Mammoth.

And at the end of the day, you finally get to be alone with your man in the bedroom where you would play with his hair. Oh, look, a blue flower hair clip. You know where to put it.

“Is it necessary to place a flower in my hair to represent—AH!” He let out a yelp as you yanked a handful of his hair close to you and put the clip in.

“Absolutely, don’t fight me on this.”

Yeah, Snookums, don’t fight it.

Yap notes: YALL IM SO SORRY FOR BEING OUT! SCHOOL ISN'T BAD BUT IT ISN'T GOOD IVE HAD NO TIME TO WORK ON FICS OR EVEN PERSONAL STORIES YET. ITS WORSE BECAUSE IM WRITING THIS WHILE SICK AND JUST FINISHING MY PERIOD YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT SUCKS TO BE SICK AND HAVING MY PERIOD. IVE FELT SO GUILTY FOR DAYS I HAD TO PUT OUT SOMETHING ELSE I DIDN'T WANT YALL TO STAVE AND IT WAS REDARA'S ART THAT PUSHED ME TO FINISH SO THANKS RED MUCH LOVE. I HOPE EVERYONE IS DOING OKAY I LOVE YOU ALL THANKS YOU FOR HAVING PATIENCE. OKAY I HAVE TO GO IM LITERALLY SHAKING AS IM DEALING WITH PAIN. ADIÓS!

[strulovitches]

first move (?)

cbf!lance x f!reader

summary : basically you and lance are childhood best friends and one day when he was sitting spread eagle it makes you h*rny and some suggestive stuff ensues.

a/n : inspired by lance sitting spread eagle in that one video. you know which vid i’m talking about. this has been in my notes for so long and it really isn’t written very well but i just thought i should put this out there in case anyone would enjoy it lmao. so,,,, if you’re a lance enjoyer,,,, have fun!

you locked your phone, staring at your reflection as the screen turned dark. qualifying had just finished about half an hour ago and from where you were standing in lance’s motorhome you could still hear the distant cheers outside, undoubtedly celebrating a rare occasion where pole position was a car that wasn’t a red bull. lance had invited you to this race, just like all the other dozens of times you have attended a grand prix weekend. the relationship you have with lance is kind of cute, both of your fathers were long-time friends which meant that you knew lance ever since he was a little boy racing go-karts around montreal. growing up together, you were there when he first won his go-kart championship and he was there to comfort you when you first failed your maths test. a childhood best friends trope at its finest.

more than a decade has passed which has seen both you and lance grow to become a man and a woman. you thought about how lance was no longer a scrawny boy with a bowl haircut. he grew to be a handsome young man, his job requiring him to train religiously and as a result gain muscle. his skinny arms, ones which you used to compare with chicken legs grew thicker, his chest wider, and he soon towered over you. throughout these past few years, you always found yourself staring at his shirtless torso a bit too long during both of your family’s annual yacht trips together. you wanted to cup his face in your hands and at the same time his broad back made you wonder what it would feel like your dig your nails into it. you chastised yourself, how could you have thoughts like that about your childhood best friend? despite that, you weren’t oblivious to the glances lance would give you as well. lance too, noticed your physical changes.

his cheeky teases turned into flirtations and once innocent hugs lingered a bit longer as you both savoured being held by each other. so were both you and lance sort of pining for each other? well, yes. has anyone made a first move? nope. (but maybe that’s going to change now)

lance walked in plopping down on the couch with a huff. his legs were spread and arms on the couch rest throwing his head back

you felt like you were in a trance. your eyes trained on his neck watching his adam’s apple bob trying to catch his breath from his sprint. the sweat on his face was dripping on to the towel he had on his neck. he was always so sweaty after sessions in the car for some reason. your gaze trailed down his body seeing how his fireproofs perfectly hugged his biceps, chest and torso. the longer you stared at his thighs made thoughts made your mind wander about what was beneath his pants. slowly, you felt your face flush. the heat pooling in your stomach was starting to intensify the longer you spent gazing at him.

you broke your trance to find a pair of cheeky brown eyes already staring back. a stupid cocky smirk plastered on his stupid handsome face. obviously, you’ve been caught checking him out.

‘like what you see?’ and so, the teasing game begins

you give him a once over again, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘definitely’ you paused. ‘close your legs before i do something stupid’ you continued, fumbling with your phone to calm down your racing heart.

he let out a laugh. ‘i’m intrigued now. come on, nothing will be too stupid.’ you hear him persuade.

moments pass. were you really going to be the first one to make a move?

fuck it. you placed your phone on the table and walked towards him, never breaking eye contact. stopping in between his legs you gaze down at him. he still has that stupid smile on his face.

staring into his eyes, you slowly start to kneel. your hands place themselves on his knees as you feel the plush carpet underneath your knees. you could see his eyes turn dark and his smile falter. his relaxed posture becomes apprehensive, slowly sitting up at this turn of events. you smile as your hands slide up his legs and place your cheek on his thigh, lips dangerously close to somewhere he would rather them be. clearly, there’s no need to explain what something stupid is.

‘happy now stroll?’ you lilt, seeing his jaw clench at your precarious position.

‘no, show me what you’ve got’ he continues.

giving him your best doe eyes, you bring your lips to the canadian flag printed on the navel of his racing suit. hands still on his thighs, you start kissing each letter of his name printed. you could feel your chin brushing against his crotch every time you shift.

‘how about now?’ you tilt your head looking up at him.

he doesn’t look too happy when he cups your jaw with his hand. ‘teasing isn’t nice you know.’ he says, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb.

you catch his thumb between your teeth as you give it a lick. a teasing glint appears in your eyes, opening your mouth to release his thumb. ‘then don’t start’ you finish, pushing his legs wider as you use the momentum to stand up as you move to amble away.

what a fucking temptress. he curses in his mind. ‘1-0 stroll! it’s your turn to make a move!’ he hears you yell out. just you wait baby, just you wait.

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

All mine♡

Kokushibo my beloved♡

Warnings: female bodied reader, drunk sex (consent is given before), humor (i think its funny), dom kokushibo, standing up sex (whatever u wanna call it lmao), reader is kokushibos wife🫶🏾 and human, dirty talk from kokushibo, man handling(?)

Kokushibo disappearing most nights was something he had informed you about from time, since he was in the twelve kizuki and working for a man he couldn't say. Just as you were done washing up and heading to your shared bedroom and saw him sitting on the porch looking at the sky. "You're not being summoned by that man tonight?" You walked closer to kokushibo sitting beside him. "No... "He" does not require my presence tonight, and I already did my other tasks. I assumed you were sleeping already, " he said bluntly.

"Is that so?" You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder "well I was planning on having a drink by myself tonight, but since you're here, why dont you come inside and join me?" You asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

Kokushibo looked at you with a slight blush on his cheeks and wrapped his arm around you're waist "I am a demon.... I won't be nearly as drunk if I have the same amount as you do, " he said. "So you have a whole bottle to yourself then. I'll have my amout, and you have yours, " you chuckled.

Kokushibo was never the one to make fun suggestions when he's with you since his type of "fun" was fighting death battles. So he would agree to whatever ideas you had since he found enjoyment in what you had planned and how much effort you put into your plans with him. Despite him being a literally demon and straightforward, he loves you so much he could never Refus you without good reason.

Once inside, you brought two bottles of sake out holding them in each hand and sat in front of kokushibo. He gave you a questionable look, and you giggled, "Don't worry, I didn't buy this alone. I was with a friend today after work. Come to think of it, I've never seen you drunk. Are you a Cryer?" You teased

"Demons usually get aroused when we drink.. it's been hundreds of years since I've drake sake...so I don't believe it's strong enough to get me to that point, " he said and took the sake bottle, analyzing it in his hand. "Well, if you do, then we can have sex." You giggled "joking" around but looked at kokushibo with puppy eyes. Kokushibo looked at your face and then eyes trailing down your body. "I accept," kokushibo said, making you chuckle at his response.

After 10 minutes, kokushibo had drank the entire bottle and some of yours and sat there in silence, not moving a muscle. "Kokushibo?" Your voice slurred out his name and crawled to him "hey you there? Helloooo, " you said and poked him."y/n.... sake really has changed over the years...." He said, moving his hand to your cheek and then to your ear, playing with it between his fingers.

"Stop it, that tickles!" You laughed, crawling onto his lap to straddle him,"you're ear... it's so cute I could eat it, " he said with all his eyes resting. You looked at him, shocked and a bit scared. "Oh okay, um. Let's not say that since you are a man eating demon, " you chuckled nervously. All of Kokushibo's eyes widened, and he gasped softly but also a bit dramatically. "Oh noo.... no, no. You are a human whom I'd never eat... never eat, " he said, still playing with your ear, but this time sticking his finger inside your ear.

"Don't do that either!" You slap his hand away but held it intertwining your fingers with his laughing hard."My god, you're so out of it, aren't you!?" You said and kissed his hand and looked at kokushibo. After looking at each other in silence, kokushibo couldn't help the smile curling from his lips and started to chuckle, eventually turning into low keep laughs.

This is the first time you're seeing your husband laugh, let alone smile. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, loving the feeling of him being relaxed and comfortable with you. Kokushibo hugged you tightly, and you did the same while rubbing his back. "I love you," kokushibo said. "I'm.... happy I found a human like you." He said not only drunk but actually coming from his heart, and you give him a kiss."I love you too, silly. That's why we are married, " you giggled

"I am not silly." kokushibo slurs his words and kisses you back but more passionately and slowly moves both hands to your ass. You placed both hands on his face, kissing back with tounge, letting out small "mhms." Kokushibo pulled back, breathing heavy. "It looks like I was wrong.... I did get aroused" he said taking your hand and places it over his cock "but I can't help but lust for you" he said "then take me" you said teasing his tip with your thumb

"Y/n, I told you to stay still. You'll fall if you don't" kokushibo said while flicking his tounge your clit while holding your waist keeping you still. "Kokushibo- It's too much! I'm getting close, " you moaned, grabbing onto his hair to push your pussy more onto his mouth. Kokushibo sucks on your clit and thrusts his fingers inside your wet pussy and made sure to curly them in the right places, making you cum on his fingers seconds later.

You rest your body against the wall and look at kokushibo out of breath "kokushibo I can't stand anymore," you said with shaking legs. Kokushibo licks his fingers clean and then starts to kiss up your body. "I was not planning to make you stand any longer," be said, grabbing both your legs and picking you up. You gasped in the moment, underestimating how strong your demon husband is. Kokushibo used one of his hands to hold your whole body and the other hand on his cock rubbing his tip on your hole "hold on to me" he whispers "I can't hold back. I want to fuck you until you're screaming" he said and puts its in making you let out a squeal.

Kokushibo groaned, grabbing your ass tightly with both hands. "I have not been taking care of my gorgeous wife, haven't I? You're so tight" he said thrusting his cock slowly yet deep inside you at frist "I apologize. I'll make you feel so good, trust me. " kokushibo moans low in your ear and starts fucking you missionary style while making your whole body bounce on his cock.

You held onto kokushibo tightly, letting out loud moans and screams of pleasure in between with glossy eyes from how deep he is inside you, hitting your spot more aggressively. "I love your beautiful voice, ngh- haa~ and that fucked out face you make for me" kokushibo moans thrusting his hips faster "you're so close I can feel your pussy sucking me in, needing to cum all over my cock.... mhm, am i wrong?".

You nod you're head yes in reply "kokushibo, kokushibo please I need to cum. Don't stop, " you begged and kissed him, moaning in his mouth.

You could tell he was close too from his soft whimpers in the kiss and eyes squeezing shut. You felt his thick cock pound your pussy harder until kokushibo let out a long hum in the kiss filling you up with his cum while you having an orgasm around the same time.

The next day came around with the hours passing by, and kokushibo had to be summoned by "that man" again. Kokushibo pet your head and then cups your cheek. "I'll be back soon," he said, and you nodded with a smile.

Kokushibo rubbed his thumb on your cheekbone and leaned down to your ear. "You seem different somehow. Can you still feel me inside you, darling?" He asked with his other hand on your hip, making you hide your face in his palm and nod yes to answer his question.

Kokushibo grinned and kissed your forehead. "I see" He said and disappeared into the night

[kiddiewrites]

I'll break every bone in your body while naning them pt.1

A story of an army doctor... and how they learn to take your strength into account.

Ok, im so so so sooooo sorry for not updating, life has been chaos lately but but but i bring to you a tiny story about the time someone tried to fuck around and found out.

Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, Minor Injuries , bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, Sexual Harassment (they get what they deserve), Not proofread

MASTERLIST

So medic!reader who’s all sunshine and cutey and nice, all soft curves and chubby cheeks and soft giggles but… strong. Like FREAKISHLY strong, there’s a reason your threat to Johnny wasn’t taken lightly by the others, they’ve seen you and they KNOW that you absolutely will do it.

What happened? Well it went like this: 

One of the rare night’s out where you’re allowed a tiny leave you went to the pub with the guys, them being a little reluctant to you being there but at the end won over by puppy eyes and a promised first round. 

We ALL know that civilian clothes do wonders for the boys, not really their usual outfits but …

GOOOOOD 

The black jeans hugging Ghost’s powerful thighs and the deep gray loose hoodie (god knows where he got it cause… THAT’S a BIG MAN)covering almost every inch of skin. His blonde hair covered by a black cap with a few tufts peeking out of it, his face covered by a black surgical mask along with his black combat boots already making him look as his usually sexy scary self. Not that you were looking…

Johnny wore khaki shorts and mountain trainers (why? Idk he looks like a guy who would do it uwu specially if it’s cold af) A loose white t-shirt, though “loose” it’s a mild way to put it… The man is built like a tank (he has massive pillowy strong titties, fight me) so the shirt expands across his well formed chest, letting the fabric drop over his stomach. And don’t even get me started on the way the sleeves FIGHT to stay in one piece, his arms are almost the size of your face, his biceps bulging with every flex aaaand maybe stoooop staring.

Kyle decided on a bit more of a soft approach, dark blue jeans that seemed a bit too tight but not as intense as Ghost’s but still it was a nice view from the back, the light brown sweater he had on concealed a bit of the muscles he had built over the years, Key Word: A bit. The sweater bulged over the muscles of his arms and hugged his toned chest in every perfect way. Along with his freshly groomed mustache and beard… Kyle was a vision; the warm energy he exuded was enough to send your head spinning in the most delicious way.

The captain had a navy blue t-shirt, his strong arms making it seem tighter than intended, although not as tight as Johnny’s, the small pudge of belly hanging beautifully over his dark blue jeans, the dark brown belt and trainer boots tying it all together. His mutton chops recently groomed making him look even hotter than he already is (I swear to GOD Price has me on a chokehold 😍 Such a fine MAN 🤤) 

Walking down the road to the jeep issued for your unit, you missed the glances headed your way from the boys, a cute warm baby pink sweater exposing your neckline and some of your shoulders, the cleavage stopping just right above your chest line, sleeves rolled up a bit to prevent them from getting in the way, tight ripped clear blue jeans paired with pink converse make you look even younger than you were, your (h/c) pulled back a bit just enough to get the hair out of your face by pins with a few strands falling from them. The boys knew that you’re a beautiful girl, seeing you in the more laid back outfit without the military issued uniform had them quickly looking away when you turned to look at them.

You took the middle seat with Kyle and Johnny by your sides, Simon climbed in at the copilot seat and the captain was driving. The drive to the pub was calm with a small talk with Kyle about the type of music you both enjoyed, Johnny joined in the conversation every now and then , Price smiled a bit at the sight of you getting along better with the team and even felt his grip on the wheel loosen a bit but he knew it was only temporary. Simon tried really hard to maintain his eyes on the road but his eyes couldn’t help but to deviate to the rear view mirror where he had a perfect view of your jean clad legs, the fat of your thighs relaxing against the hard seat of the jeep making it really hard for him to tear his eyes away.

However Simon was not the only one to notice the soft edges of your body moving and jiggling with the movement of the truck

Johnny had his arm placed around your headrest and everytime he turned to join the conversation he felt his side squishing you and it felt so good, the urge to just hug you by the waist and bury his head in your pretty tummy was…  Intense

He was known to be some sort of a flirt and had a very friendly way with people, but lately he was being a bit short with you. You attributed it to the stress of the missions so when the opportunity came to take some sort of leave you took the chance, much to the starting annoyance of the team. They still treated you kindly but it was kind of disheartening.

When you arrived at the pub Kyle helped you down the van and offered his arm for you to take - Such a gentleman, Sarge.- You smiled up at him and took his arm into yours,  your other hand resting over it. Your chest pressing against his arm was so soft and so warm, he felt himself blush as he smiled back at you.

Once inside it seemed like they had a designated table, the bartender smiled up at them and wave them at a tabla at the back -I’ll be right there boys!- a cute smile adorning his features he seemed well acquainted with them

John thanked him and led the way to the table with Simon and Johnny following behind both you and Kyle announced you were going for the drinks. The guys shouted back at you what they wanted and you headed up to the bar.

As you were walking a sudden slap at your booty had you wiping your head so fast Kyle thought you might snap your neck. It was all so sudden so you didn’t had the chance to pinpoint who the bastard was, but Kyle did.

An older man with obviously a lot to drink laughed loudly at your face along with his friends, Kyle immediately went up to grab him but the friends of the other men had you surrounded in a matter of moments.

-What’s tha matta, soldier boy? Yer net gonna tell me that fat ass wasn made to be slap’d aroun’ aren’t ya?-

If the look full of fury didn’t kill the man the right hook to the chin must definitely brought him to the edge of it. Thanks to the booze the friends of the drunk man had little time to react before they realized it wasn’t the man that threw the first punch…

It was you…

The strength of your punch was enough for the man to just fall to the ground with a Thump and gave enough time for the rest of your squad to get to where you were at.

The way you looked at the man had him scared enough to try and run away. Emphasis on "Try"

Simon grabbed the man by his collar and picked him up, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying, given that one of the drunk friends tried to lounge at you.

To their utter surprise they saw you fling that man over your head and into the ground nearly hitting his head against the edge of the table

- By all means, keep doing something stupid. Im begging you to give me the excuse -...

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