#studying how do draw these fuckers

[ginumo]

this one goes out to all the canon-accurate dca truthers out there. also yeah hi these fuckers have me in a chokehold

[codacheetah]

Cleaning out my files here's a collection of random things I'm unsure if I ever posted before

[imavikingo]

kinda personal (again)

The other day I was scrolling through ig reels and a dude talked about how you don't really need to know every single thing about anatomy to draw accurate/good proportioned bodies, but instead have a good sense of spatial awareness and... Fuck man. I don't have that.

I suck at it so badly in every sense of the word... Like I have had a ton of bruises for being clumsy and hitting myself with furniture or things. I often miss a step and fall of my ass (one memorable time I fell down the stairs like a turtle -bc I had a backpack- and couldn't stand up. Fun times). I also can't seem to draw things without having to check over and over with references (And I still can't get them to look right! And don't get me started at perspective or backgrounds. I've literally cried for/because of those fuckers. That's also why I get so weirded out/perfectionist/nitpicky about my own stuff. Because I can't seem to look at it with "normal" eyes. I've tried, it doesn't work). I often have difficulties with a lot of shit because of it and then some (yay for having a roomba brain, I guess).

And it's not something I can really get better at fast or without a lot of work and time (and patience! Something I also lack, because who has time for that. I need things like yesterday! Chop chop brain. And shit... I can't really wait for stuff man) sure I can have some cheats and help (and the delightful use of references, muaks) , but I can't get better at it in a timely manner (meaning now or soon and for forever. Because I constantly forget how to draw and how to paint and other stuff. It's a real struggle. Also for me to use references means to do a finished drawing and that means fatigue and suffering and nitpicking and self doubt). I never knew about this when I was younger and I never thought it was weird or a symptom of something else. I was always just clumsy, couldn't differentiate from left and right and drew weird proportioned bodies besides other "weird" shit. I didn't have a clue because people (adults) didn't have a real problem with my behavior or way of being because I was overall a good student/kid and had good grades and was mostly quiet (I don't blame them nor my parents, it's just weird to be like that since forever and suddenly realize I can't function like I should as an adult or that I have disabilities that have always been there. The chronic pain doesn't help either, but hey! I'm trying and my life is normal-ish so it isn't terrible. It's just annoying and difficult sometimes)

The point is!!! I'm shit at spatial awareness and I get frustrated because I want to be better at it without the constant fight and struggle!

[thewitchblue]

"Why'd he send you?"

Bruce asked bluntly, his Batman suit on with his gaggle of children evasdropping in the background not-so-subtly. I quirked an unamused eyebrow at the bulky man in front of me.

"It just so happens that I owed Constantine a favour. Do you want my help, or do you want to deal with your little demon friend all by yourself?"

Batman huffs an amused laugh. This is the best demonologist Constantine claims in the world? Red Robin asked Nightwing in a mutter,

"I'm not seeing things, am I?"

Apparently, he didn't think I'd hear him. I smirked as I turned my attention to the older Robin. He nervously shifted his weight when my intense gaze watches him, before becoming a bit panicked once he realized he physically cannot move away from me as I approach. I eye him up-and-down with appreciation before saying,

"You're cute, Little Red. Let's get coffee sometime. After I banish this fucker, of course."

This seemed to surprise everyone in the cave, but my focus was back to the demon Batman managed to get an attachment to.

"Now, how did you manage to get this fucker attached to you? Were you feeling especially lonely and struck a deal?"

I eye Batman curiously. Red Hood chuckles in amusement, but I choose to ignore him. There is a weird tension in the room when Red Hood and Batman make eye contact, so I clear my throat loudly to draw attention back to me as I study the cage that the demon is currently trapped in it. He managed to isolate and contain the demon, so that's a start. He sighs and explains,

"No, I'm not lonely enough to stoop so low."

I give an acknowledging hum. My eyes stay trained on the demon. It was rattling the cage it was imprisoned in, hissing and cursing at me while I approach it.

"Let's just ask the demon then, shall we?"

I stop in front of the demon and ask it,

"Now, what deal did you two make?"

The demon merely growled in response. I growl back at it, reaching into its body and squeezing its heart until it whimpered. I hiss,

"Answer me."

Its gravelly voice said,

"I was promised a new body by an alternative Batman. Clearly, I made a wrong turn."

I purred as I released my grip,

"Good boy."

Batman frowned in thought, but stayed silent by my side. He seemed to already have an idea of who struck the deal.

"Now, which Batman promised you this wanker?"

The demon snarls,

"He goes by Owlman. He merely promised me a Batman."

I give a thoughtful hum as I fully remove my hand from its heart, wiping off the dark blood from my hand.

"Well, that turned out swimmingly for you, didn't it?"

It snarled in response to my false sympathy. Red Hood snorts at my antics. He seemed to be entertained by the entire situation.

"Well, it appears your little deal wasn't fully thought out. I'm sending you back. Next time, possess Owlman instead."

I murmur my spell softly to myself before snapping in a particular pattern. The demon howled before it dissipates like mere smoke. I crack my knuckles nervously before turning back to the Batfamily and saying,

"If you need my services again, ask Little Red over there. He has my number."

Red Robin looked confused until he reached into his pocket and felt the slip of paper I planted on him. He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket to the dismay of everyone in the cave. I send a wink his way once his disbelieving eyes turn back to me.

With a wave of my hand, I disappear from their cave before anyone could reply. Truthfully, I was a tad nervous to hear his reply. I'm still rusty when dealing with the living after spending so many years trapped in a metaphorical cage with anti-magic wards. Before John saved my sorry arse, I was entrapped for pissing off the wrong crowd.

I have much more experience with the dead and celestial as a result. They are a lot easier to figure out and handle than regular human beings.

Tim had never been more conflicted. Granted, he didn't have anyone who showed genuinely interest in him like this demon hunter. He had to applaud the flawless effort.

"Aww, you two would be so cute!"

Dick said with an encouraging grin. Dick, of course, was excited and happy for his brother. He wraps an arm around him in a side hug before letting go and saying,

"You should reach out! The chemistry between you two reminds me of myself and Starfire."

Jason rolls his eyes and fakes gags at Dick's brotherly excitement. Despite his annoyed exterior, he still defends Tim,

"You care too much, Grayson. Let my replacement come to his own decisions."

Tim gives a shy smile. The demonologist was rather cute and he appreciates the boldness and the stealth it took to even slip the note in his pocket. He softly says,

"Maybe I will."

[stargirlygirl]

Rut Suppressants pt.1

Alpha!Shoto x Omega!Fem!Reader

Summary: You find out that Shoto's been taking rut suppressants ever since you've been together. You take them off him and get to see a new side of your husband.

Word count: 5.2k

A/n: This is PART 1 of 2. Part 2 is hyperlinked. The second part ties up all the little plot points touched on here.

🚨Warnings: Smut, 18+, NSFW, p in v, masturbation, oral sex, lots of swearing

------------₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊------------

You were typing away at your computer, responding to some dry work emails about tomorrow’s presentation. You had been working in a small team to design a new marketing strategy for your company’s latest hero gadgets. And of course, you had been pulling the weight of the team, you little hard worker. Or maybe your HR team didn’t hire the right candidates, you decide. It was easy enough though. The hard part was just getting your colleagues to look like they knew what they were doing by 10am tomorrow.

After responding to another email of “What does this mean?”, you heard the front door click open, grocery bags scraping against it. Ah, your mate is home. Finally, you smile.

You set your desktop to sleep before leaving the study. As you walk down the hallway, half-white half-red hair comes into view. He’s got his back to you. Black shirt clinging to his sweaty muscles. Must of been to the gym too, you thought. You rest your shoulder against the fridge, arms crossed underneath your chest, taking in the sight of you husband. He’s going through the bags, rummaging through them restlessly, clearly on the hunt for something.

“Need some help?” You smirk.

He turns around, blue-grey eyes wide. His expression visibly eases, slightly opened mouth forming a closed smile. “No, I’m fine. How was work?” He returns to his scavenger hunt in the bag right at his feet.

“Fine. I’ve got it under control for tomorrow’s meeting.” You push off of the fridge and come up behind him, hand on the edge of the island bench. You look over his shoulder, curious about what he could possibly be looking for. Shoto always gave you a kiss first thing whenever he came home, regardless of what had happened during patrol or of what you were doing. For him to neglect you like this was rather odd.

“You didn’t do all the work again, did you?” His voice had an edge to it… It made you bite your lip ever-so-slightly.

“You know how it is—”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” he almost growled. “You should all be doing it, not just you.” He cussed under his breath.

Okay, this was getting weird. Agitated over you working hard? I mean yea but, he usually reins it it, accepts that this job is just that for you, a job. One that you’ve talked to him about leaving. And swearing? Not Shoto. Only when y’all are… you know.

“Shoto, babe, what’s up?” Standing directly behind him, you run your hand through his locks. He hums.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine," you whine.

You watch as he starts going through the fourth bag, pulling out a small box with the label “Rut suppressants. Take as needed. Maximum dosage: five per day."

This little fucker. You snatch it out of his hands immediately, sprinting from the scene into the back of your apartment.

“[Y/n]! [Y/n] stop!” You can hear him coming after you, the sound of his feet hitting the floorboards. “Give that to me now!”

You’re running frantically, heart pounding in your chest, hands getting sweaty around the evil cardboard box. You dash into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut. Fuck! Where should I hide it?

You look around, [e/c] eyes settling on the dresser. You race over to it, emptying the contents of the box into the first draw, beneath your bras and panties.

“[Y/n]!”

Shit, he’s close to the door. You slam the drawer shut and run-stumble into the ensuite. Leaning against the door, you lock it. Okay okay, think! Think! The door knob rattles.

“[Y/n]! Open this door right now or I swear—” The silver handle is shaking now.

The toilet! You open the lid and crush the box in your hands; it makes those crinkling noises before you toss it into the trash bin and flush the toilet. At that moment, the door bursts open.

Shoto’s chest is heaving. His eyes are unfocused, frenzied. He’s panting… with anger you decide as there’s no way that little sprint could of worked up the number 3 pro hero that much. He stalks towards you, grabbing your wrists and leaning down to meet your eyes.

“What did you do with it?” His tone shocks you. His voice is so low now… and hoarse. It throws you off. “With-with what?” You breath out. You’re pretty puffed. “Don’t play dumb. You didn’t actually flush ‘em down the toilet, did you?” His face is now inches from yours.

You remain defiant, eyes staring back into his. The heat radiating from his left tickles your skin. “Um… well yea, yea I did. They’re um, yea, they’re down the toilet.” He laughs. More like barks. His breath hits your face. All you can smell is his sweat interlaced with his fresh scent.

“You’re so bad at lying, you know that?” He smirks, straightening back up. His muscles pull taut as he runs pale fingers through that snowy, silky hair. You watch as he looks around the bathroom. “Where’d you really put ‘em?” He looks back down at you, scrutinising you beneath his gaze. Your ragged breathing now hitches. “I don’t—”

“Don’t deny it!” He shouts. You shrink back instinctively.

You’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always so controlled. Even when you’re in heat, he’s always got it together. Always able to draw back or change the pace when you need him to. That’s why you took the pills off him in the first place.

You’ve been getting suspicious for months now since the two of you got married that he’s been on rut suppressants. It just didn’t add up. After your first heat together, you had actually asked him about his ruts so you knew when you had to return the favour.

“I don’t really rut, babe.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, heterochromatic eyes averting from yours.

You laughed in response. “You don’t rut?” Your eyebrows raised. “Should I be concerned or…”

“No,” he said shyly, “it’s not like that.”

You waited for him to continue, watching as his eyes fluttered from object to object.

“I don’t get very intense ruts.”

Your brow was still quirked. “You don’t get ‘very intense ruts’? Like, you don’t get super aggressive and horny when you rut.”

His muscles relaxed upon hearing that. He looked back at you now. “Yea, it’s a minor annoyance. Nothing to worry about.”

You relaxed too, seeing that he was more comfortable now. “Trust me.” He took your hands in his larger ones. The temperature difference of both something you weren’t used to yet. “You don’t ever have to worry about control with me.” He gave you a sweet reassuring smile.

“Are you sure? I mean—”

“Trust me.” He squeezed your hands and leaned over, planting a small kiss on your lips. You grinned as he pulled back, trusting his word, however strange it seemed.

Had he lied to you? When you had announced to your friends that you and Shoto were (finally) getting married, they had warned you about that post-wedding baby fever. The endless marathon sex you two would be having once your cycles synced up. You had been waiting your entire relationship for that to happen and it hadn’t. So, once you two tied the knot wink, you had been hoping that the talk of pups would come up, but it just hadn’t. That’s when you had begun to think something was off. Even if he didn’t have “intense ruts”, he would still be feeling the urge to breed you, wouldn’t he? Or maybe he just didn’t—

“Where did you put my suppressants?” He stared you down, thin brows furrowed. “Babe…” His hands are trembling at his sides. Pupils dilated so only the rims of his irises are visible. It strikes fear and-and something else into you. Attraction? Excitement? Maybe you should try something else. Something else that’s gonna get you the result you want.

“Make me.”

At this, he frowns even more. “Make you what?”

“Make me tell you.” You take a step forward, feigning confidence, coming close to him again and tilting your head to the side, challenging him.

He scoffs. Those beautiful eyes, like solar eclipses, flickering away from you for a moment. “Make you…” He says quietly. He stares at you even more intensely now as he’s thinks it over.

It’s time to get cocky. “Yea, make me.” You stretch up towards him, arms wrapping around his neck. “I want you,” you move to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing his earlobe. “My sexy Alpha,” you run both of your hands through his hair now. He groans right back into your neck, large hands palming your lower back. “To make me submit to you.”

In an instant, you're over his shoulder, his palm smacking your right cheek. He’s carrying you out of the ensuite. You’ve done it now hehe.

As he crosses the threshold, you notice the door knob was coated in ice, hanging there, limp. Looks like you’ve gotta add fixing that to your to-do list tomorrow. He throws you like a stuffed toy onto your plush bed. His shirt’s already coming off, rippling contours all for your pleasure. Yea, make that a ‘to-do next week’.

Large hands already besides your head. Lean arms, meaty thighs, delicious toned frame caging you in. You’re forced to stare into those mismatched eyes. Not like you’d want to do anything else anyways.

Your breaths intermingle, just like your scents. He just stares at you, licking his soft, full lips. Afternoon light from the adjacent windows makes your figures glow. You love the way it streaks through his hair, and he loves the way it catches on your pretty pink lips. He thumbs your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth. You lower your chin, taking his thumb into your mouth. You circle your tongue over the top of his thumb before tasting the pad of it. It’s cold, like a popsicle you suck on in summer. You can think of another ‘popsicle’ you’d rather be sucking on right now.

“I… I-I don’t…” His brows are knitted together once more. Pupils wavering between dilated and contracted, showing off those blue and grey hues you love so much. You stop what you’re doing with your tongue, opting to place both of your hands on his cheeks. His thumb leaves your mouth but rests on your chin.

“I don’t know if… if this s-safe.” You can’t stop yourself from giggling a little. What a cutie. “Pookie, of course this is safe. I was made for you. You know that, right?” You smirk. You’re a feelin’ like a cocky little shit today btw if you didn’t get that. This man’s shyness inflating your big dick ego.

“Of course I do but…” He averts his gaze, looking at your ear instead. “But?” You continue. However, he doesn’t respond. He just moves his hand from your chin and tucks a strand of [h/c] hair behind your ear, which has suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

“You don’t wanna hurt me? You do wanna hurt me but don’t wanna admit it?” You tease. “No! No, of course I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes shift back to yours.

“Shoto.” You squeeze his cheeks gently. “I’m your omega. If you hurt me then you can just make it better.” You bring his face closer to yours. “You can make it better, can’t you?” You whisper.

He gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the motion. “Y-yea,” he replies, voice low, “I can.” That last part coming out with more confidence. “Good, then don’t make me dom you, Alpha. That’s kinda embarrassing for you.” You giggle whilst leaning up to him and finally, kiss him.

You both moan into it, feeling the relief washing through you two. But quickly, it’s not enough. It’s far from enough. He growls into your lips, changing his tilt. You follow his lead. You like that. His tongue grazes your bottom lip and you part immediately for him. The tangle that ensues is soul-gripping, bone-shaking, mind-blanking, breath-taking…

Your fingers are gripping his locks. His fingers are gripping the hem of your thin white tank top. Saliva, don’t know don’t care whose, if dripping from the corners of your mouth. His exhale is your inhale and vice versa. He catches your lower lip between his teeth. His sharp canines sending tingles throughout your entire being. There’s nothing that gets you slicked up like a lip bite from your Alpha.

He pulls away, you two panting. Not that the reprieve is sufficient or long-lived. Soon his lips are sucking and nipping your earlobe and that sensitive spot beneath your ear. You whimper out his name. “Shoto”, “Alpha”, “Daddy”, maybe “Babe” or “Honey”… yea, those, they’ll be the only words you know for the next week.

He nips at your mating mark, the beautiful white scar just above your left collarbone. He continues biting it, almost re-piercing the scar. You can’t help the moan-mumbles that tumble out of your mouth. Already, your wetness is soaking your blue lace panties and beginning to slide down your inner thighs. “Fuck,” Shoto breathes out into your other ear. You shudder at the word, one hand sliding down to his shoulder.

He continues at it, licking and sucking and kissing and biting at your neck. Soon, his fingers are tearing through your top. You mewl at the sensation of him ripping the torn, flimsy fabric off your body. His hands reach for your bare breasts, cupping them completely. Those long fingers begin pinching at the sensitive flesh. Your body responds instinctively, moaning, small hands grasping his wrists, breaths catching in your chest and throat. He fingers your nipples before bringing his mouth down to you, lips ghosting the hard peaks between his fingertips. He takes one into his mouth, eliciting a delicious whimper from you. His warm tongue circles your nipple as you did to his thumb, but just so much better.

You’ve barely gotten started and yet, you know never get enough of this. No matter how many times he’s done and will do this to you, and so much more, you’ll never be forever satiated. You just can’t be.

He moves to the other, keeping your now wet left breast covered by his cool palm. Fuck, that feels good. More moans spill from your mouth as he continues his ministrations. That slick is at your knees, probably. You can’t really tell cause it just feels like a wet, sticky mess down there at this point.

“Shoto,” you whine. He groans in response. “Hurryyyyy up,” you drag out that ‘y’ as you mewl. You shudder as he chuckles against your tender skin. Tender from his bites and sucking, of course. “You want me to go faster?” He pulls away from your breast, face coming back close to yours. You whine and nod your affirmation.

“But if I go faster,” he strokes your cheek softly with the back of his index finger, “you’ll miss out on all the fun.” His finger trails down to your chin, gripping it tightly but playfully with his other fingers.

Damn, you’re getting wetter by the second. He’s doesn’t usually tease you during your intimacy. Prefers that slow, soul-binding kinda love-making.

He just smirks at you before moving back to his painstakingly slow kisses and sucks on your breast. He only moves down to your ribs once he’s satisfied and you’ve probably soaked the bed sheets with how much he’s turning you on. It’s driving you insane. No. He drives you insane.

Shoto’s hands wrap around your ribs, feeling their rise and fall, and their ridges. “Beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing each rung. He keeps those eyes on you. All cocky. He knows what he’s doing to you and he likes how pathetic it makes you for him. And you can’t help but like it too.

After thoroughly kissing and touching every part of your torso, your arms, your everything really, he’s finally fingering your low waistband. You sigh relief and begin wriggling, trying to get those pants off as fast as possible, but your Alpha is still having none of it.

“Be patient,” he growls as he squeezes your clothed inner thigh, your flesh perking up between his fingers. “But Alpha—”

“I said,” he stares you down, this dark look in his eyes, “be patient.” You whine, “Yes Alpha.”

Hearing your compliance, he loosens his grip on your thigh and begins kissing your hip bones and skin just above the band. Fuck, he’s really killing you this time. I thought alphas were all, “Let’s bang. Now. Hard.” when they’re rutting but, I guess not. Maybe, Shoto didn’t completely lie to you by saying that his ruts were different to other alphas. Or maybe, he just wants to tease you for once.

You’re brought back to reality when you gasp reflexively to him biting into your inner thigh through your wet pants. Wet as in soaked and clinging to your hot skin.

“You’re not focusing on me.” Shoto’s voice is low, raspy. Fuck, you love it when he talks like that. Especially just after he’s woken up and you two have some fun together before getting up.

“And you’re not even focusing on me right now.” He bites even harder into your thigh, breaking through the fabric and pulling little red dots to the surface of your now swollen, marked flesh. “I,” you breath out, so it sounds like ‘hi’ and not ‘I’, “I thought you wanted me to be patient.”

“I want you to do both. Can you manage that? Or is that too much for my little girl?” He’s got a shit-eating grin across face. Since when was your husband such a tease, and such a good fucking one at that? It’s the years of pills, you decide.

“N-no, I can’t manage. Help me m-manage.” You imagine that you must look like some blubbering, whimpering mess right now, and you’re not even naked yet. And he’s not even naked yet. “Okay,” his grin widens.

Licking those glorious lips, those lips that you want on yours and not the ones on your face if you know what I mean, he pulls away from your thighs. He gets up from the bed, taking off his grey sweatpants and briefs. And fuck, you’re not ready for what meets you. For real. Swollen, hard, precum dripping down the shaft.

He smirks at you as he grabs his cock with his hand, moaning on impact. His other hand comes up to his face, finger pointing to the side of his mouth. At this point, your sitting up, thighs to calves, legs spread wide, dragging your wide eyes up and down his body.

“You’re drooling.”

I would say that you blushed at hearing this, but you’re already red as fuck in the face with how hot he’s been making you. You’re embarrassed and laugh it off, hand coming to wipe that spit from the side of your mouth. Yea, that was definitely yours and not his from earlier. That had already dried.

“W-well, how can I not when,” you take a deep breath in and look back up at him, “when my husband looks this good.”

“Have I got your attention now?” That rasp. That will be the end of you. Or the end of these bed sheets, whichever comes first. You nod feverishly. “Good girl.”

Ah fuck. He’s praising you. Fuck. That’s it. If that dick isn’t in you within the next three minutes, who knows what will happen next. You start shuffling over toward him when he stops you.

“No. You stay there. I want you to watch.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles, amused by your reaction as you realise what’s going on. Is this how this twisted fucker wants you to help you 'be patient' and 'focus'? By not letting you touch him? And by not touching you?

“I can’t. No. Babe. No please.” You’re shaking your head vigorously, already rising from the bed when his hands find your shoulders and push you back to sit down on the edge. “Watch.” His voice is commanding, absolute.

You’re forced to obey your alpha and sit there helplessly as he pumps his veiny cock with those veiny hands. The precum now all over his dick with even more leaking from the tip. His dick that should be in you right now. His eyes are trained on you, observing every stuttered breath you take in, every time you bite the side of your lip, how focused you are on how he’s pleasuring himself. That feels even better than his hands ever could. Fucking hell.

“Can I—” You start.

“No. Just watch.”

“Not you but my—”

“No. Watch.” His tone is stern. His voice strained.

Fuck. If your hands were bound then this would be so much easier, but no, you’re forced to hold back from touching yourself by your alpha’s command and your own self-discipline. You doubt that you’re even allowed to rock your hips right now.

You watch as his movements get faster and now he’s panting. His eyes half-lidded and tongue darting out across his lower lip every so often. You can see the sweat beading on his chest. You start whining, wanting to be the one touching him like that. What you wouldn’t give to just… just have him right now.

“Please,” you begin. Which becomes a slew of please daddy, please, please let me touch you, please, I’m sorry that I took your suppressants, I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry Alpha, I’m sorry that I wasn’t being patient or f-focusing on you, please Alpha, please let me touch you, please, please, please, please… You don’t stop. You can’t stop. All you can do is sit there, slick drenching the sheets below you even though you’re lower half is still clothed, and plead for your alpha to fuck you.

His pale hips jerk forward and you can tell he’s really close. Would he even let you swallow it? But he stops. He stops and comes over to you, collapsing onto you, arms around your shoulders and neck. “Shoto,” you squeak, but it’s muffled by his weight falling onto you. He huffs into your ear and you just rub his back.

“Tired already,” you jest, but he’s not in the mood to play with you anymore. “Enough. I can’t cuddle my wife?” He mumbles grumpily into your shoulder before taking the flesh between his teeth. You hum, “You can always cuddle your wife, but I’d like it more if you fucked me.” He chuckles low, right below your ear. You feel it vibrating through his throat and chest. “Yea, I bet you would.”

He holds you for a little longer before pulling back, peeling his sweaty body off yours.

“Alright, I’ll give you your reward,” he smiles lazily, even showing off one side of his pearly whites. You squeal with delight. “Finally!” “Oi, settle,” he says as positions you so that he’s between your legs, spread wide, slowly pulling both pants and panties off you. Oi? “So, you’ve been on patrol with Dynami—”

“Don’t mention him,” Shoto growls. He’s been doin’ a lotta that today and you like it. A lot. “Or anyone else right now. It’s just you and me.” You nod submissively. You really should stop riling him up sometimes. But you can’t help it. You’re a cheeky little shit after all.

The relief that engulfs you once those dreadful clothes are off brings out a sigh of pleasure from you. He doesn’t make you wait any longer. He’s already at the source of your heat, lapping up your slick like it’s the elixir of life. To him, it is. You whimper and mewl as his tongue makes its’ way between your folds. It feels so warm and wet, perfect against your swollen lips. You relish in the feeling of what he’s doing to you.

Shoto eats you out like he’s been starved. Greedily, hungrily, in a frenzy. Without a break for air, he keeps going. That tongue, those long digits curling inside of you, his lips, all making you shake and mew. The whimpers and words leaving your mouth are unholy and impure, some real nasty shit. Only he can get you like this. Only he can have you saying shit like, “Fuck me however you want, daddy.” Or, “Knot in me, alpha! Breed your little omega!”

Once he’s had his fill, he moves away from your core, grabbing your hips and flipping you over, onto your stomach. His fingers are back at your folds, playing with your clit and teasing your entrance, drawing more filthy moans from you. You feel him move on top of you, straddling you. He withdraws his fingers, replacing them with what you’ve been craving for this entire time.

You moan loudly as he fills you up, completely, inch-by-inch. He groans as you draw him in, tight walls clenching around his girth. He stays still for a few moments, allowing you to get comfortable, before he sets a brutal pace. You hands are by your shoulders, gripping the sheets as he fucks you.

Your body is shaking, contorting to his every rough thrust in and out. It’s got your mind absolutely filled with how only your mate can do this to you. You can’t even form a sentence. You mewl, over and over, to the sound of your skin slapping harshly together. Your mingled groans and moans, all that dirty shit dripping from your mouths fill the room. It’s humid. Sweat coating your bodies. Your hair is stuck to your forehead. Your favourite part — besides from how tight he’s gripping your hips, likely (and hopefully) leaving bruises on your soft skin — is how deep he gets. His tip reaches that perfect spot, making your toes curl and knees bend, before he draws back out, and he does it again and again.

“Sh huff sho moan shot huff to." He grunts out in response. “Sho huff sho huff I huff.” Fuck, you can’t even get the sentence out. That’s how brain fucked, how body fucked, this man’s got you. “What?” He growls. He’s breathing hard, you can hear it, and it makes you drip even more and he can feel it. “Use your words, baby. Moan What is it?”

The filthy sounds of him pounding you fills your ears. The squelching of your juices around his length. You can’t even remember what you were trying to say. Oh! That’s right! “I-I whimper Shoto whimper Sho fuck moan I’m moan I-I’m gonna,” your voice is quiet and breathy, but he still hears you clearly.

He can feel your thighs beginning to shake, the way your pussy tightens and then releases, and he knows what you mean. “I know,” he grunts again. You continue to moan, feeling your climax coming in hard n’ fast. You gotta know if— “Just hold on for me, alright. Just huff just hold on.” You whimper in response. Not cum yet? You don’t know if you can do that. “I’ll try—”

“You will wait for me.”

Your moans and mewls get louder as you get closer, as does his growls and grunts. Even if you can’t wait for him , it doesn’t really matter, you still benefit.

He picks up the pace. You never even realised he had this kinda stamina. But, you should of known. He is THE pro hero ‘Shoto’.

It feels impossibly more pleasurable. It’s like he’s surrounding you. Every thrust is godsent. You couldn’t escape the pleasure of this moment, even if you tried. Your orgasm is building and building, threatening to crash down on you any second now.

“Shoto!” You cry out. You’ve got tears in your eyes. Your shaking, trembling, convulsing as you climax. You squeeze around him hard, sending him over the edge with you. You’re sobbing and screaming at this point, as you feel his knot swell and plunge into you. Thick, white, hot ropes spilling into you. Filling you completely with his seed. Fuck.

You ride out the high together, him rocking into you and you rocking as much as you can manage back into him. Breathing out, he leans down, pulling you back and laying you two on your sides. You groan at the movement, still experiencing those last minute tremors of your orgasm. His legs intertwine with yours, arms wrapping around you. He strokes your head, drawing you close into him as you both calm down. You sniffle and he takes this opportunity wipe the tears from your eyes.

You giggle, “Thanks, honey.” The words dampened by your sudden emotional outburst. “Anything for you, love.” He kisses the side of your forehead and moves to grab the blankets and pull them over you two, up to your chin. You snuggle back into him, hands grasping his forearms, a mindless smile spreading across your face. “You’re not done with me yet, are you?”

He remains silent for a few seconds, before groaning into your hair. It still smells like fresh cut strawberries in the midst of all the scents filling the room. “Only if you tell me where you hid my suppressants.”

“Than I’m never telling you!” You squeal. There ain’t no way you’re gonna give up this side of your alpha just yet. “Hey, that’s not what you should be saying.” His voice is low, bordering on a growl. “Sorry for not following your script.” And now you’re the one wearing a shit-eating grin.

“You know,” he shifts, now leaning over you and narrowing his doe eyes at you, “if you insist on acting up, then maybe I will just have to fuck you through this rut of mine.” “I hope you do,” you smirk even wider. “’Course you do,” he grumbles, laying back down again, nose buried in your hair.

You two lay in silence until his knot goes down, and he can finally pull out. He turn you back onto your stomach and pulls the blankets back, drawing out slowly, making you moan. His cum gushes out, further eliciting moans from you.

You can feel it dripping down your the back of your thigh. Shoto watches, enjoying the sight. Though, before he’s realise it, he’s got his fingers inside of you, finger-fucking that cum back into you. You can’t help but start whimpering and moaning even louder as you feel him fingering you.

“Shoto…”

He draws his fingers back out, letting the cum drip out again. He’s tempted to slide them back into you so that no more escapes, but he refrains from doing so, knowing that you two need to talk a bit more about kids than just “Do you want kids? Yea, I want kids. Do you? Yea, sounds good.”

He clears his throat, “I hope you’re ready, baby.” He wraps his hand around your waist and turns you over, onto your back. Your eyes find each other. The sun’s setting, illuminating how wet and dewy and bruised your soft flesh is.

You breathe out, smiling happily, “I’m ready.”

[soap-ify]

some vampire!reader x vampire hunters!141 thoughts that are refusing to leave my mind. pardon me this is unedited and i'm sleepy as fuck. feminine terms used on reader.

cw — they basically kidnap you.

“i dinnae think there’s any more of those creatures left here!”

“shut your whining, johnny.”

ghost and soap had been bickering back and forth, serving nothing more than to worsen the headache blooming in price’s head. at least gaz was silent, observant as ever. price pretended to ignore the amused grin that adorned gaz’s lips very much clearly.

the appearances of vampires around the front of the woods had significantly started to lessen due to these vampire hunters who actually gave a fuck about their job, dedicated in clearing out the parts so the civilians could sleep peacefully at night.

though at the same time, it meant that finding a vampire was as hard as digging up some treasure. it was infuriating, in all honesty, especially for price. these mindless patrols were fucking up with his head, the lack of activity making him more irritated.

plus the rest three just seemed too immersed in some banter to even care. though eventually, a soft rustle from the bushes caused them all to fall quiet due to price’s hand gesturing to them to stop, observant pair of eyes carefully looking around.

“there’s something here.” commanding as ever, price took the initiative of stepping forward, his pistol clutched in his hands.

the four of them discreetly stepped through the bush, coming across you. you, who were standing there wide eyed, hands trembling in pure fear, taking a step back from the hunters in front of you.

weird. you were supposed to bare your fangs, to attack them and try to suck their blood for your life. but no, you were acting more like a poor trapped bunny, not a vampire.

“price.” ghost grumbled and stopped price by holding his shoulders, pulling him back slightly. this masked man was terrifying observant, eyes boring deep within your skin, as if unpeeling every layer of you to grasp the poor soul within, for the sake of his own amusement perhaps?

he could see you salivating, unable to hold in the drool that glistened pathetically under the moonlight, yet not making any moves whatsoever. “you thinkin’ what i’m thinkin’, simon?” gaz nudged ghost slightly, those dark eyes looking at you a bit more kindly, almost interested.

“look at the wee lass, captain.” soap could barely hold in a snicker, already putting his gun back into the holster. he couldn’t care less, in all honesty. what were you going to do, bite him?

price had oddly became the quietest, his stare making you try to shuffle away uneasily. though before you could even try to move a little, his hand shot out and grabbes you by the shoulder, dragging you over to him and the rest, ignoring your hisses.

“don’t think she’s like other of those bloodthirsty fuckers.” price huffed out curiously, his other hand forcing your mouth open, thumb running over your fangs. weak. what had you been feeding on to lack the power others like you possessed?

“how ‘bout we take her home, cap’n?” gaz mumbled and took out a pack of cigarette from his pocket, drawing one out.

“i agree with him.” ghost mumbled, taking a step forward, towering over you. a shadow eager to destroy. “we can study her like that, y’know.”

his words made you sweat coldly, throat tightening up, unable to utter a single form of protest while price dragged you almost effortlessly, making you walk alongside them until you reached a jeep parked beside one of the many trees.

“c’mon, hen.” soap eagerly opened the door, giving you a push inside. “ye’re comin’ with us.”

finally some activity for all four of them.

[dollyyss]

Main four + Butter and how they cuddle…?

Please don’t ever feel pressured to do these on spot <3!!!

Im just— Kyle is heavy on my brain rn. Hhhhggh.. I can’t stop thinking.. about.. him..

Also some of this may of gotten a bit.. nsfwish I apologize.

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝑲𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑺 𝑮𝑨𝑵𝑮 + 𝑩𝑼𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑼𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬

𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 ₊ ⊹

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥! 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝘼𝙐‧₊˚✩彡

𝙆𝙮𝙡𝙚, 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣, 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙮, 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨𐙚

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: nsfw

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐

-Please.. Kyle’s got you in the goddamn honeymoon hug. You’re both facing each other, his arms are wrapped around your middle and yours wrapped around his neck. His legs and yours intertwined.

-He’s such a lover boy I can’t. His nose occasionally will press against yours, the two of you giggling and talking about anything and everything in such a gentle tone. Sometimes a whisper.

-He’ll do this normally, he just wants you close so he can tell you how much he loves you, how warm you are. How much he never wants to get up and could stay like this for hours. Kyle especially does this when it comes to movies. But.. it’s because he’s sleepy. If you’re helping him watch Ike while his parents are out, at some point Ike is put to bed, and Kyle suggests that maybe you two could watch a movie, something to pass the time but he says this as he’s already dragging himself around half asleep so you know what he means. He wants sleep, you can watch the movie. The minute you say yes his tall form is rushing over to the couch, squishing you into it while you both lay down. His back faces the tv, head cradled in your neck while yours rests on his shoulder to turn a movie on. His legs tangle with yours and just like that.. Kyle Broflovski is knocked the fuck out.

- He’s also the type of mother fucker to pull you back in if you try to get up. “No baby, just stay here. Please.” He’s mumbling, pressing kisses to your neck, those kisses turn into soft licks and nipping. His hands roaming more then they were 5 minutes ago. “Ky c’mon I’ll lay down with you, you wanted to cuddle” your ears heat up, fingers gripping his shoulders. He chuckles quietly, his fingers finding their way to your draw string. “M’sorry, I’ll stop.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Kiss?”

-He won’t ever really cuddle in public, but once you’re either at his or yours and studies are out of the way? he’s all over you.

-I may be obsessed with Kyle. Guys. I may.. be obsessed. Did I mention obsessed? I’m obsessed. Come to our wedding ;)

Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

-I feel like Stan is a clingy cuddle type. And I mean, someone speaks to you? He���s latched and immediately pulling you into his lap to curl you up so he can rest his head on you, hands rubbing at your legs. Someone’s looking your way? Yup “give me your hand.” He’s gripping it and pulling you into him so he can lean against you, swaying softly while he hides his face on your shoulder or in your hair.

-He’s also the type to cuddle when he’s drunk. “hic hiiii~ you look, so good right now.. hic” he’ll find the comfiest spot to lay you, practically flopping on top of you and mumbling on and on about whatever goes through that dumb brain of his. He’ll pass out sooner or later but before he does make sure to give him a gentle lil kiss to his messy dyed blonde hair, catch him smiling like a dumb idiot with that dopey face, cheeks red and warm

-He tends to come cuddle when he’s had a shit day and his father is just being an actually fucking dick. He’ll sneak into your room, tripping over shit but trying to be as quiet as possible. When he finds your bed he takes his shoes off and slips into the sheets with you, his head popping up between your arms, his hands under your shirt. “Hm?” You wake suddenly not sure who was in the bed at the moment, though the voice was enough to tell you it was Stan. “Hey hey, shh, it’s just me babe” his hand squeezes your side softly. “Just wanted to get away from dad.” He mumbles before feeling you bring him closer to you. Suddenly, he very quickly realized. In that moment. You were his home.

-He’s not horribly crazy about cuddling, you really just have to catch him at the right time. Either you let him come to you or sometimes if you come to him, he’s already ready for you. It really just depends on his day.

Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉

-If there is ever a time where Kenny has his hands off of you for a long period of time. Something is wrong. So cuddling is a must in your relationship with him.

-Kenny will cuddle anywhere, and I mean anywhere. This could be at school, an outing with his friends, at a restaurant, outside. Literally everywhere. As long as his hands are on you in some type of way he’s content.

-I’m sorry but.. cuddling with Kenny will result in some sort of sexual activity. Unless he’s tired, or.. stoned. If he’s tired, he’s sprawled all over you drooling and getting the best sleep of his god damn life, his arm is sprawled over your chest, his head is half off your shoulder and one leg is hunched up just below your stomach. If he’s stoned he’s got your head on his chest, one arm around your shoulder while the other is behind his head. He’s spewing none sense but.. he’s making you laugh so it’s all that matters to him.

-….cockwarming. Cough.

- “c’mon please?! I promise I won’t do anything” there’s a pause between the two of you “Kenny? Fine but nothing more, I wanna lay down” he’s nodding his head intensely, impatiently waiting for you get under his covers, following you quickly as he watches your slip your pants and underwear off, pushing them to the side. He’s quick to do the same, his tongue out like a panting dog as he slips in, his teeth biting down onto your shoulder as you both let out a pleasurable moan. Kenny’s fingers trace up and down your arms, soothing you. He honest to god probably falls asleep like this, snuggled into your back and whimpering occasionally at any sudden movement. His hand rests at your waist, soft snores leaving his lips.

Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°

-“Do you want me to die?! Is that what you’re saying right now?! Wow, well fine, I’ll just keep warm with someone else” cartman crosses his arms, watching you cock his brow at him, “cuddle, you mean” he cocks his eyebrow back, “keep warm.” You let out a snicker “righttt, just admit it Cartman you wanna cuddle there’s nothing wrong with that”

-He doesn’t like to admit it but he loves your cuddles. We all know cartman is on the chubbier side so he’s actually really nice to cuddle with, he’s warm, soft, and actually just really relaxing to cuddle up to.

-He won’t really notice it but his hands tend to pull you closer, rubbing your legs, arms, occasionally running his fingers through your hair. Depends on how you lay, but typically you’re at his either of his sides, he tells you nonsense stories until you fall asleep and when you do. He’ll pull out his phone to take a few quick pictures of you, saving it in his folder he has specially for you. Yeah he can be a sweetheart, shut up.

-The only time he’ll ask for genuine cuddles is when he’s sick. He’s a man baby when he’s sick and you can’t change my mind. “Y/nnnnnnnnn” he’ll be so whiny, giving the stupid ass pout to make you do what he asks. You’re sure he’ll ask you for soup which you’d gladly make but when he asks for a cuddle you’re quite surprised. It doesn’t take you long to find your way under his sheets, sitting slightly up right so he can rest against you. Your fingers rummage through his hair, scratching at his scalp and massaging his temples. He really does appreciate it, and he’ll make it up to you. …at some point.

Butters ˚☆🐈*๑

-Like Stan he’s the clingy cuddling type. But not in like a jealous way just more, he just wants you around him so he’ll cuddle you to keep you there.

-if you two are ever out with friends or even doing something with his parents if he doesn’t have your touch he literally goes insane. He tries to find anyway to touch you, his foot touching your leg, his hand trying to find your hand, trying to move closer to you, literally anything to at least feel you.

-But when he has the chance to have his hands on you he’s a giggling mess. He likes to be the little spoon, he likes feeling you all squished up to his back, your hands around him so his hands can hold yours. He’ll curl up slightly as well, finding any sense of your warmth. If this mf could be in your skin. He would. He just wants you as close as you can get. If he ends up falling asleep, at some point he’s turned around, face squished between your arms that are hugging his head, your body latched around him and he could not be happier with the way he woke up.

-He likes to kiss when cuddling. His hand will be moving your hair out of the way while he presses kisses to your face. At times you hide it from him, shy at the way he just can’t stop pressing kisses to your face. “Aw jeez, don’t hide from me! It’s only a little kiss darlin” he uses his nose to brush against your hands, trying to push them apart because he wants to kiss your lips.

-like Kyle, once you’re cuddling. You’re trapped. He’s not letting you up for anything. Unless you really have to use the bathroom then if that’s the case he feels bad for keeping you locked in his arms. “Oh but please be quick okay! I still want cuddles!”

[candy69gurl]

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 5

Warnings- smut

wc- 2.3k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7

You awaken, free from pain and aches, but find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is bathed in a deep red hue, and a sense of unease washes over you. As you sit up, confusion clouds your thoughts. In the distance, you notice something immense—a Tower of Skulls—with Sukuna perched atop it.

Your heart quickens, and adrenaline surges through your veins. With determination, you rise and begin to advance towards the tower, driven by urgency.

"You fucker," you call out, your voice trembling with anger upon seeing him.

As you draw closer to the tower, you see Sukuna seated on a throne, his head propped on his hand. His gaze meets yours, a chilling smile playing on his lips.

"Don't look at me without my permission, brat. I hate it," he growls, his voice filled with  menace. "Bow down before me,"  he orders.

Disobeying him, you inquire, "Where am I?"

"In my domain," Sukuna says, his voice sending chills through your body. "Malevolent Shrine. So you better be obedient and do what I say."

"How did I end up here?" you demand, glaring at him.

"Because you attempted to end your own life, brat," he retorts, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I couldn't allow you to perish, not yet," he continues, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Not until you learn the consequences of your actions."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you gaze at him. Summoning your courage, you take a deep breath, your voice quivering with anger. "Come down here, asshole," you command firmly. "I refuse to serve you, now or ever," you declare, your eyes flashing with defiance.

Sukuna chuckles, a cruel sound resonating through the shrine."You think you are brave enough to insult me?" he says, his voice laced with amusement. "Moreover, you broke the deal that we made."

In a surge of fury, you snatch up a skull, your rage propelling your actions. With all your might, you hurl it towards Sukuna. Swiftly, he leaps from his perch, landing atop you with a mocking laugh.

"Ouch!" you cry out, the impact stealing your breath.

"You don't get to disobey me, vessel," Sukuna snarls, pinning you to the ground and pressing your face into the bloody puddle.

Within a few seconds, he lets go of your head, letting you breathe again. "Get off me!" you yell, struggling beneath him.

"You will listen to me, vessel," he says, his voice cold. "Or I will make sure you regret it," he adds, his eyes gleaming with malice.

You struggle, but he is too strong; your efforts are futile.

"As I was saying, this is my innate domain. In other words, you are not dead yet. You missed your vital spot, so I was able to take over your unconscious body and heal it," he says, looking down at you.

"You're heavy," you remark, trying to deflect.

Sukuna releases you, grasping your neck to force eye contact. "You broke our deal by not allowing me to take over your body whenever I want,"  he says, staring daggers at you.

You study him intently, noting his imposing presence: the pink spikes of his hair standing tall, tattoos and markings adorning his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso. He's wearing a white robe, the cloth flowing around him.

"Do you like what you see?" Sukuna asks, his voice mocking, "I look like a god, don't I?" he adds, a silly smirk playing on his lips.

"You're still an asshole," you retort, your voice shaking with anger.

"And I'm still the owner of your body, and do you know what happens to those who break the rules?"

You roll your eyes, your anger growing again.

Suddenly, Sukuna's hold on your neck tightens, cutting off your air supply. You fight against him, your chest burning for oxygen. Gasping desperately, your vision blurs.

Summoning your last reserves of strength, you manage to land a kick on his jaw, momentarily loosening his grip.

His eyes blaze with rage as he growls, "You insolent wretch," his voice seething with fury.

In a whirlwind of movement, you find yourself seated upon the throne, Sukuna's hands firmly gripping your waist, his eyes narrowed with unbridled anger.

"Remember, this is my domain," he growls.

Your heart races; panic is surging through you. "Release me," you demand, your voice trembling with fear.

Sukuna's smirk widens, malice glinting in his eyes. "Not so easily," he retorts, his tone chillingly indifferent.

You are now stuck with Sukuna, as he keeps you pinned against him, his hand tightly wrapping around your waist.

With a low growl, Sukuna's hands reach down to your pants. His fingers are brushing against your skin, your breath hitches, and your body is tense with anticipation. You try to push him away, your heart racing.

Sukuna smirks, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I've been waiting for this moment, Sama." His voice is low and seductive, sending chills down your spine. He chuckles darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your waist, before he pulls you closer, devouring your lips in a passionate yet rough kiss. His tongue dances with yours, dominating you completely as he takes control of your body, moving it according to his will.

"I know all your sweet spots," he whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath for a moment before he yanks your pants off you.

You gasp as he slides his finger over your clit. "I am also aware of your virginity and how quickly you get wet,"  he chuckles, striding his tongue against your neck. Your mind keeps on wondering how he knows all this.

He leans down, yanking off your top and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it, causing you to arch your back in pleasure.

Sukuna grins, pushing a finger inside of you gently, watching as you twitch and moan softly. "Oh, look how you are so wet for me." He coos against your ear, thrusting his finger deeper into you. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you firmly.

"Ah, I am hitting the right spot, am I not?" he asks, intentionally wanting to get a reply from you.

"N-no, not at all. Your nails.. They-," you lie.

"Quit lying, you like the sensation of my sharp nails gazing at your walls; I can read your mind; don't forget that you are in my domain,"  he thrusts another finger, making you whimper. He chuckles darkly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

"Trust me, I can see through your mind right now." He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. His hands then move to your nipple, twisting and pulling, causing you to whimper into his shoulder. "Hmm. Gotta ruin your tough personality," he whispers as he thrusts his fingers faster, making you writhe in his grip.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him, desperate for release. "Nah, uh, you need to beg for it,"  Sukuna smirks, his finger sliding out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

You try to think of something else, but your mind keeps on reminding your body about the pleasure it was feeling from his fingers.

He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Say it aloud; I want to hear it, though I already know what you want by reading this filthy mind of yours." He says, sliding his fingers back into you, twisting and pulling them, making you moan loudly.

"Please let me, Cum,"  you gasp, your eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Hmm? Already started begging? You are not as tough as I thought you would be. Guess, I am hitting your right spots," he mocks, bruising your sweet spot again and again.

Suddenly, his fingers leave you abruptly, making you whine in protest. You were so close, but he stopped. He laughs, still holding you firmly against him. "This is a punishment; I can't give you pleasure. Can I?"

He turns you so that he can see your face clearly, and your hands unconsciously wrap around his neck. "If you really want to cum so badly, then do it on cock," he said, his voice low and seductive, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"I don't need it from you," you lie, trying to sound tough but failing miserably as you can feel his laughter resonating in your ears.

"Oh, come on, I know you want it; your body is begging for it," he laughs, his lips trailing down your neck. "Your body is so slutty, you know that?" he asks, his hands roaming your back and your hips.

You shake his hold on you, trying to break free, but he grips you tighter. "Quit lying, I told you I can read your mind," Sukuna chuckles, his lips against your ear. "You really look good with that short hair," he whispers, his fingers tangling around your hair. "I apologise; if you truly care about your hair, it will grow back."

"Shut up, I hate you so much," you try to say.

"Kiss me then; let me fix us," he smirked.

You glare at him, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead, he pulls you closer, your lips brushing against his. His lips are soft against yours, and his tongue darts out to trace the line of your lips. You groan softly, your defenses crumbling. His lips press harder against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming it as his own. This time he kisses you thoroughly, his hands roaming your body and touching your every sensitive spot.

"Don't you want to feel the king of curses's cock inside you?" he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your breasts. You moan softly, feeling his hands on your breasts, causing you to shiver in pleasure.

"I-I don't need that," you stutter, your body betraying you as it moves against him.

"Don't lie; you know you do," Sukuna murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. "You are already imagining me fucking your little pussy, mhm." He chuckles darkly, his hands roaming your back, causing you to feel embarrassed.

"Stop reading my mind." Your hands travel to close his eyes. "I don't want your dirty cock inside me," you resist.

"Then why are you grinding against it? Why do you envision me fucking you?" he gently moves your hands from his face to his cock. "Can you feel it throbbing?"

You jolt at its thickness and say, "I-impossible."

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates against you. "Is it?" His hands slide down your body, pulling your pants off. "Don't worry, you are loose enough," he murmurs, guiding your hands against his hard shaft. "Are you telling me you don't want this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, your body betraying you as your hips rub against him. He chuckles evilly and says, "I want to hear you. Tell me you want this inside you."

You hesitate for a second, your eyes wide with confusion and desire. "I think, I do," you stutter, your hands gripping his robe tightly. Sukuna chuckles, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Is that so, little slut? Fine, let's see how you react," he says, his hands pulling your legs apart. His cock slides against your clit, causing you to gasp and moan.

"Please…" you whisper, your eyes pleading. "Please, what?" he asks, and he continues teasing your clit. "P-put it inside,"  your eyes pleading with him.

Sukuna's smirk never leaves, his eyes gleaming with victory as he positions himself at your entrance. He thrusts inside you, making you gasp and arch your back.

"Yes, that's it; take it," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. You moan loudly, your hands tugging on his robe. "Good vessel, take it all," he praises you, thrusting in and out of you.

You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. "Hmm, nice and tight," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Tight as I thought you would be." You whimper, your eyes wide with pleasure and pain.

Sukuna chuckles darkly, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Where is the fierce girl you used to be?" he mocks, his nails digging into your hips. You moan softly, your body writhing under his touch.

He kisses your neck and, with his fingers, your hair. "I'll make sure you never forget this," he growls, his hips thrusting faster. You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. His thrusts become faster and harder, and your body shudders under his touch. He bites your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Do you know, get it, who's the owner of this body?" he growls, his eyes gleaming with lust.

"Yeah," your voice quivering with every demonic thrust.

"You look so good, taking my cock, so submissive," he murmurs, thrusting harder. His words send shivers down your spine, his cock sliding in and out of you, making you whimper. "I can feel your walls trembling around me," he growls, his hands wrapping around your neck.

You whimper, your body shaking terribly, your toes curling.

"Cumming already?" he asks mockingly, his hips thrusting harder.

"A-ah, I-I," you gasp, your body betraying you. You arch your back, your body quivering as you reach your climax. Sukuna groans loudly, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

"This body, these breasts, this pussycat—every inch of your body belongs to me," his low growl echoing through your ears, his cock pulsing inside you. He thrusts deeper, his orgasm coming hard, filling you up. He gives you a peck, and your body is still quivering from the experience.

"Now you know who owns this body," he mocks, his hands running down your body. "Next time, don't dare to deny me." You nod weakly, your body still under the effect of the intense climax. He smirks, slowly pulling himself out of you, his cock sliding out of your body.

You pass out, slumping against him. Sukuna chuckles ominously, his eyes bright with triumph.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13

Dividers from @cafekitsune

[chrrychills]

hi ‼️‼️ can i request the sbg characs with a high achiever s/o?? hope you're doing alright, and you get out of the slump soon 💯💯💗 also, i absolutely LOVE LOVE your wirting stylee, and the headcanons are rlly accurate ‼️

if i only could, i'd make a deal with God .

main six « academic weapon s/o!

ashlyn banner:

•while she doesn't strive for academic excellence the way you do, she understands your thought process and supports you in how hard you work.

•she likes the concept of a study date— except you're the only one actually studying because she gives up about fifteen minutes in and ends up laying down somewhere while you study. she won't interrupt you though!

•while she doesn't show it outwardly, ashlyn's really proud of you. she knows how hard you work and loves watching it pay off.

•she's also the first to reassure you after you don't get the results you want. if you're upset about a test grade, she'll suggest grabbing some food and taking a nap to get your mind off of things.

•ashlyn's big on making sure you're taking care of yourself. if you get too caught up in studying for her liking, she'll force you to take a break to eat, drink, shower or just rest.

aiden clark:

•aiden is naturally smart so studying was never really a necessity for him, so he doesn't understand why you're bent over a desk for hours on end. i mean he gets it, but he doesn't get it. y'know?

•unlike ashlyn, he does not like the idea of study dates. if you invite him over to study, he won't even bring his school stuff. and if you try to get an ounce of studying in he'll pester you until you eventually give up and pay attention to him.

•you don't know it, but he does this because he wants to make sure you're taking breaks and not overworking yourself. also because he likes to annoy you, but it's mainly concern.

•like i said before, the little fucker is naturally gifted, so he'll usually end up with a low A or something along those lines. you always end up getting better scores than him, though. the studying really does pay off.

•he lowkey boasts about how smart you are as if it's his own achievement... but it's just because he's proud of you and likes to show you off. he'll stop if you tell him to. maybe.

ben clark:

•ben can't really get himself to lock in and study unless it's a topic that interests him, so needless to say he's impressed by how immersed you seem in the most boring of topics.

•instead of studying together, you guys will take a day or two of the week to just be together and enjoy the other's presence. sometimes you'll be studying and he'll be drawing, sometimes you two will be taking a nap or getting food. it just depends on how you feel that day.

•another one that's adamant that you take proper breaks. especially when midterms/finals roll around, ben gets worried that you won't give yourself a break and get burnt out.

•he makes sure that you understand how proud he is of you. he sees how hard you work to get to where you are, and he wants you to know that it's impressive. he's actually so whipped it's crazy.

•overall, ben's very attentive and he just wants the best for you.

tyler hernandez:

•another academic weapon. tyler's naturally smart, but the difference between him and aiden is that he actually studies. best believe you two are top of your class and you're constantly competing one-up each other on grades and test scores and whatnot.

•study dates are a must. they're not an everyday thing, but once or twice a week you two will spend hours cooped up in one of y'all's rooms with food, drinks and homework.

•we all know it's difficult for tyler to recognize when he's pushing himself to hard, and taking breaks is the bane of his existence. if you want him to take a break from homework/studying, it'll have to take a lot of convincing.

•on the flipside, he'll force you to drop everything and eat/drink/nap if he sees that you're overworking yourself. what a hypocrite.

•he's the first one to pull you out of a burnout or slump. he knows you're smart, and he knows you know it too. sometimes a bit of motivation is just what you need and he knows it.

taylor hernandez:

•while taylor is smarter than the average person, she's much more of a hands-on learner. there's a lot of times where she'll be tinkering with parts or welding some types of metal and you'll be doing homework at a desk a couple feet away. it's a way for you guys to stay close while still getting things done.

•when she gets bored, though, taylor isn't above pulling you away from your schoolwork to come hangout/cuddle with her.

•another one who is loudly proud of you and your accomplishments. taylor is and will forever be your #1 fan, and you're hers too.

•she trusts you to not push yourself or burn yourself out, but she'll step in if she has too. she doesn't want to see you crash and burn because you worked too hard.

•she rambles to tyler about how cool & smart you are, and he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he doesn't gaf.

lacey's notes:

thank you for requesting, i sorta combined it w another similar request bc i didn't wanna write 2 separate posts about basically the same thing...

#notedited

tdy's my birthday guys isn't that crazy i'm lowkey reaching unc status

title:

[tac-the-unseen]

How the slashers show affection

Minor editing for formatting and writing for additional characters. (That's something you won't see in my original AO3 book!)

Michael Myers:

Quality time

He shows up. If Michael really likes you he will show up for you. Got a place you want to go? He's there. Did you work really hard on something and want show him? OK. Just maybe dont expect a huge reaction out of him.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher:

Acts of service and physical touch!

Billy will go out of his way to try and help you do something. That or he'll just do it for you. Stu is a teddy bear. Always touching you or Billy.

Study date look a little like you and Billy doing the work and stu snuggled up to both of you.

Thomas Hewitt:

Acts of service

Thomas while busy will always find a way to help you. Something on a shelf you can't reach? Grabs it and hands it to you.

Bubba Sawyer:

Physical touch

Cuddle bug! Bubba is always down to cuddle. After all the chores are done of course. His brothers don't like slackers

Bo Sinclair:

Gift Giving

Will buy and or steal things off of victim's to give to you. ASK WHERE HE GOT THE CLOTHES FROM!! If he stutters either don't wear it or wash it a couple times.

Vincent Sinclair:

Gift Giving

He will draw/paint you and give it to you! He's very shy about no matter how long you've been together. Give him some praise and you might get some more.

Lester Sinclair:

Words of affirmation

Praise!!! He loves to give and get! Expect compliments all the time. You made dinner? " This is really really Good!" ( if you give some praise back he will be a big ol blushing mess )

Billy Lenz:

Physical touch

Did you expect anything else? Billy Lives to have his hands on you. If you don't find a hand on your ass, tits, or thighs, something is very wrong.

Brahms Heelshire:

Physical touch

Mother Fucker practically glued to your hip. Anytime you sit he's on your lap. Laying down? Already snuggled up. (Pro tip: you can get out of chores via cuddle compensation!)

Hannibal Lecter:

Acts of service

Don't want to do dishes? OK he'll do them! Don't want to get out of bed? He'll bring you your meals. Hannibal will do anything ( within reason) for you!

Will Graham:

Quality time

Will love spending time with you. More than anything in the world. You could just be sitting down, saying nothing, and he'd still appreciate it. Even if he can't vocalize it or put it into physical action, making time out of his schedule just to sit next to you is how he lets you know, he loves you.

The Lost boys:

David- Words of affirmation

David is a sweet talker through and through. If you seek verbal validation, He's your guy. He let you know when you're doing a good job, or if you look particularly nice this evening. He has no problem purring at you if he knows you like it.

Dwayne- Acts of service

Dwayne loves nothing more than helping you reach that tall shelf, or finding a book you'll like. And with that motorcycle, he has no problem being your personal chauffeur. He'll even read to you if you ask. Whatever you need, he's quick to dote on you.

Paul- Physical touch

No surprise here. Paul loves to grab and hold onto you at all hours. You can bet anytime you're standing still he's right behind you hugging you while rocking side to side. Sitting down? He's already pulled out the blanket to cuddle you.

Marko- Quality time

Marko might seem like a party, jump around kind of guy, but he actually sits pretty still when he's working on something. Whether it's a painting, sewing, or doodling he's almost like a statue (minus his hands of course). So when you're craving some kind of affection from him he'll let you lean on him while he's working, making light conversation. He cherishes these little moments with you.

Thanks for reading! <3

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 11

Prompt: Fire

Words: 1100~

TW: Unhappy Ending (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

Yep, this one's all angst. Feel free to yell at me about it. I'm almost sorry.

Enjoy!

Stepping into his room Ghost’s eyes immediately caught on a discrepancy in his usually well organized space. There was a battered black notebook open, pages-down, on his bed. Almost completely hidden under his pillow, which was also crumpled in the centre of his bed.

Ghost could piece together what happened. Johnny had come into his room to draw or just get some thoughts down in his journal, lost track of time, then scrambled to leave when one of the alarms he'd set reminded him that he had somewhere to be. 

Ghost had told Johnny that he was always welcome in his room, had given him a copy of his key and everything. Officer’s rooms were a bit more cushy than the bunks the Sergeants got and Ghost’s room was very deliberately in one of the quietest sections of the base. People tended to bug Johnny when he had down time, wanting his help or to hang out. Without Ghost there to act as a looming dissuading presence Johnny hardly gets a moment of quiet and it can wear on him, so Ghost was glad to see that Johnny was taking his offer seriously. 

He drops his pillow back into its place at the head of his bed, then picks up Johnny’s journal. He rummages through the blanket creases for the pen and opens the notebook to tuck it inside as he’s watched Johnny do innumerous times. 

Across the full two page spread are, from what Ghost can tell, messy calculations for various mixes of explosives. Price had banned Johnny from asking what the new demo buildings are made of or how they’re being built, evidently that has not stopped Johnny from making some very good guesses. He’s been making estimates just on how long it’s been taking, what construction he’s heard, the various supplies he’s spotted being toted to the blasting zones, and what he knows of the budget.

The clever little fucker.

He’s even sketched out some of Price’s favourite training floorplans, from memory, as Price only gives those specs to the actual builders. Ghost should probably give Price a heads up, but he won’t. Let Johnny have his fun. 

Ghost’s flipped to the next page and tucked the pen into the crease before he realizes that the pages aren’t blank. The left is filled by various upclose studies of a pair of dark eyes and the full length of the right is filled by a portrait. 

Ghost isn't scared of his reflection, the man he sees in the mirror is him. Is The Ghost. Empty haunted eyes, jagged scars cutting across pocked skin, the ugly sneer that lurks in the corners of his mouth. It's all familiar to him. 

This portrait isn’t of The Ghost.

There’s a fondness in the creases around the eyes, a tenderness held by the lips that are pulled up into a fragile smile, a softness given to the shadows cast gently over what should be harsh edges. There's a warmth to it that The Ghost has never had.

This is a portrait of Simon Riley.

Ghost reflexively drops the book when the heat sears his fingers, narrowly missing his bed by sheer brainless luck. He watches the pile of papers burn for one uncomprehending moment, then panic punches him in the lungs. Dropping the lighter he doesn’t remember pulling out, Ghost scrambles to pick up the notebook, forcing himself to not let go even when the fire creeps up to lick across his fingers. He crashes into his bathroom, throws it into the sink and yanks the faucet handles fully open. Drowning the fire and dousing the notebook. 

Turning off the tap, he stares down at Johnny’s journal. It’s soaked through with a few sad wisps of smoke still rising from its charred edges, slowly collapsing in on itself to match the curve of his sink’s basin. The only thought he can fully form is a strange gratitude that he’d long ago disabled his room’s smoke-detector to smoke his cigarettes in peace. If this had turned into a base wide fiasco he would've resurrected Roba, handed the man a shovel, and told him to do it right this time. 

“Si?” 

Ghost hadn’t thought that he could get more panicked, but Johnny’s confused voice from the doorway shot his heartbeat into a tempo that surely wasn’t medically advisable. 

“Johnny!” He whirls around to face him, subconsciously keeping in front of the sink to block it from view, “I can explain!”

“Explain wha’, Si. Why’s it smell like you're burning some’hing?” Johnny steps closer, looking at him with such warm concern.

Ghost desperately doesn’t want to lose him.

“I didn’t mean to-” He starts to explain, but Johnny had come close enough now to see what he’d been hiding.

“Is…” Soap sounds hesitantly confused, like he already knows, but can’t quite bring himself to accept it, “Is that my journal?” He looks up at Ghost, his eyes begging for Ghost to give him any other answer, “Simon?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” Ghost repeats frantically, “I just-”

“Wait,” Soap interrupts, holding up his hands in between them to stop Ghost’s approach. When had Ghost started walking towards him? “You burned my journal?” 

“Yes.” Ghost confesses, wishing it wasn't the truth, “but I didn’t mean-”

“Why would you do that?” Soap’s voice is rising to match Ghost’s agitated volume, but he still sounds more confused than angry. 

“I saw the picture you drew and then it was- It was on fire,” Ghost tries to explain, reaching forward and flinching back when Soap dodges away from his grip. “I hadn’t meant-”

“You burned my journal,” Soap’s words twist with incredulity, “because you didn’t like what I drew?” 

“No!” Ghost hastily corrects, because he would never, then has to take it back, because evidently he would, “Well, yes, but it was a picture of me-”

“And that gives you the right to burn my journal!?” Soap is starting to sound properly angry now, and Ghost has never had the best reactions to people yelling at him.

“Well maybe if you hadn't left it laying around on my bed. This wouldn’t have happened at all!”

“You said I could!”

“I said that you could come in! Not start treating my room like it’s your own personal pigsty!” 

“Oh, well I’m sorry.” Soap bites sarcastically, “Next time you forget something in my room, I’ll be sure to return the favour!” 

They’re both properly worked up now, heaving for breath on opposite sides of Ghost’s room, like they’re feral things barely holding back from tearing the other apart. 

“You know what.” Soap says, and Ghost knows by the clever glint in his eye that he’s not going to like what he says next, “Don’t worry about it. This is on me. I should have known better than to trust The Ghost with anything I’d want kept safe.”

He waits to see the devastation gore through Ghost's eyes, then gives a self-satisfied nod and turns on his heels to slam out the door.

Leaving Ghost there, with his guts pulled out and his heart beating hollow in his chest. The taste of regret on his tongue sharp with salt. 

Thank You For Reading!

The alternate ending that I considered for this one was Soap taking the blame and apologizing for what he calls 'overstepping Ghost's boundaries' by drawing his face when he knows how sensitive Ghost is about that, which makes Ghost feels extra bad.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Super fucking late. I know I said that this was gonna be just them drinking and screwing but it descended into some super emotionally intense shit so please don't read if you're a minor or if you hate that shit

Warning: 18+ This is dark. Some EXTREMELY heavy description of physical abuse towards women, extremely unhealthy reaction of OC in regards to this abuse, Smut, drinking, smoking, swearing

No-one rides a motorbike who doesn't slightly want to die. It's not just the past few years of dealing with the scum scraped fresh off of Cell Block 1's floor that has led Rust to believe that. He doesn't need to see the Iron Crusaders' (and his own) track marks to know that every fucker here has a death wish; it's that low, churning engine rumble that tells him. Excitement often boils down to terror and you can't not care when your Harley's doing 100 down along the coast; a hurricane cooking up in the grey-blue of the Gulf. You'll die just swerving slightly. It's exciting. Rust sees that same excitement, the one of licking syrup off of the jagged edge, in Cassandra's eyes. Hell, it's why she fucks with him, both figuratively and literally. As she taps her fingernails on the sticky bar top, Rust can see that restlessness froth up, in her eyes; the way that they glaze over while she studies him. Cassandra's gonna make him fucking pay for it.

'You owe me, at least, a double,' she says, resting her forearms on the bar as she makes a show of arching her back and rolling the cracks out of her shoulder. Rust looks at her, unimpressed by her languid stretching,

'Those shorts show enough, as it is. Ain't no reason to be doing all that shit.'

'Jealous?'

Rust reaches for the Camels in the inside pocket of his leather jacket,

'Of these motherfuckers? Ain't no-one here that could handle that goddamn attitude. And for the smell outside, ain't no-one here handlin' their liquor, either.'

That earns a huff of a laugh for Cassandra,

'Let the poor bastards have some fun. Most of 'em are probably just trying to take a load off and relax.'

Rust sighs out a flood of grey and eyes her from the side; a cool, appraising look which Cassandra doesn't miss.

'What?' she asks, her head jutting forward slightly and eyes already narrowed, as if already anticipating the bite of his words.

'These are the same men that fuckin' feel you up, back at the club. These beers and shit is just what loosens 'em up.'

'That's just all men,' Cassandra says dryly, not even attempting to muster any indignation at the fact. A girl already resigned to nicotine stained callouses palming her tits and ass. How much do you value your body over rent? Where do you draw the line between the meat that courses with capillaries and nerves and life, and the meat that jiggles when a biker spanks it? Is it worth defining it? Rust knows that, for Cassandra, it sure as hell isn't. Shit, it isn't for either of them, or anyone at that. Sentient meat with electrical impulses tricking us into thinking that it actually matters if we put a gun in our mouth or not, next Tuesday. Rust gives another grainy, derisive scoff,

'Fair enough.'

'Plus, they pay rent. As long as they have the money, they can do whatever they want,' Cassandra shrugs while scraping at some gunk, on the bar, with her thumbnail. Neither of them look at each other.

'I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna bullshit me anymore, Cass.'

'I ain't bullshitting you.'

Rust's gaze moves from the beer taps to an ashtray,

'You goddamn hate it, Cass. I hate it for you.'

'I never said I didn't. But I ain't about to turn down a lap dance cause I've got morals. Shit, Crash, you think I'm that much of a kid?'

Rust can see the way she finishes with a smile and licks the inside of his cheek to prevent his own faint smirk; as if it's some depressingly fucked up inside joke that the two share.

'I am pretty good at pretending that it turns me on, though. Ain't I?' Cassandra says, leaning her side against the bar top with glint in her eye that Rust thinks looks far too much like baiting.

'Keep talkin' like that and you're only gettin' a single.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a fucking admission to me.'

Rust knows why she does this shit; he's seen it enough in the smoky, post-sex haze of their trailer-floor bedroom. Their bodies sticky to the touch, Rust festering in a pit of self-loathing, that he now doesn't even attempt to claw out of, and Cassandra, toeing the line between humour and cruelty, in a desperate attempt to cover up how fucking exposed she is to him. It acts as a way to convince herself that she wouldn't let him hurt her. They both know she's lying. Beneath a nicotine-yellow ceiling and the monotony of the squeaking fan, it's easy to pretend that they are what they present to each other; neither one of them has it in themselves to strip the other bare.

Cassandra is silent for a moment, too long a moment, so Rust bites,

'What?'

'So, I can't call you Ru-'

'No.'

'Not even when we're fucking?'

'Especially not when we're fucking.'

'It ain't like I'm gonna slip up.'

Rust nods to the bartender, uneasy with the raw territory that the conversation is quickly accelerating towards,

'Two fingers of Jameson,' he says, before turning expectantly towards Cassandra.

'A Budweiser and a double of tequila; lime and all that shit.'

The bartender gives Cassandra a slight arch of his brow, clearly unimpressed in having to get out the shot glasses in a place where the liquor bottle usually just stays on the bar top; anyone its owner until they pass out or their wallet runs dry. He acquiesces, though, satiated by having a girl like Cassandra in his bar. Cassandra sees it in his eyes, too: the moment where aggravation turns to lust. She's seen it often, as well as its inversion. The two things men know best, she'd told Rust once, after some fucker bit her shoulder during a lap dance, unable to stop jutting his hard-on into her as he'd called her a 'fucking teasing little bitch', Sex and Rage. So well, they often mix 'em up. Cassandra knows better than anyone else how to tree that line; girls in her line of work usually do. Turn that anger into libido by grinding on them well enough, or try to get hit in a place where you can't see the bruise too much. Don't want the customers to acknowledge that their domination of this body is as fucking pathetic as the last guy who payed to fuck her up. Bruises that belong to different men just don't carry the same degradation. You're a fucking punchbag, nothing worth actually beating into submission. Rust knows that's part of the reason that Cassandra has never bothered to cover up the one's he'd leave after they fucked: someone had finally deemed her worthy to stick around after the time ran up to teach her a lesson.

Rust turns to the bartender, deciding whether, with the coke that he took before chasing after Cassandra still pulsating through his capillaries, he should ignore the slobbering slack-jaw looks he was giving her. He's so goddamn exhausted, after all. Hell, he's already violated more CID regulations than he can count by even starting this shit with her but, then again, he's been in this fucking purgatory of bikers, meth and lukewarm liquor for 3 more years than he should so who's doing semantics?

'That Motel 6 across the lot still runnin',?

The bartender nods,

'As long as there're hookers and junkies on God's green earth.'

Rust lights another cigarette before saying,

'Finish your beer, baby. Then we head.'

The bartender miscalculates, misinterpreting Rust's biker leather as some sort of male cammeradery, and juts forward to ask,

'Hey man, after you're done, you mind tellin' me which room you leave her in?' his hunger glazing his eyes like it would an animal's.

Rust doesn't even have time to break his nose before Cassandra semi-lunges herself across the bar, only restrained by Rust's forearm as he tells her,

'Easy. Easy.'

Time and breath wasted, though, with the way Cassandra writhes against his grip, arm pointing into the bartender's face as she sneers,

'I'd give you two seconds, motherfucker, before your dick gets soft and you start crying to your momma cause it won't go up again, you dumb fucking piece of shit. Ain't even fucking man enough to spot an actual hooker.'

The bartender's face twists, as the insults spew out, and his own vitriol starts to froth up,

'Oh, so you ain't even smart enough to get paid for it? This son of a bitch just fucks you for free, huh? Shi-it, your daddy must've fucked you up bad.'

Rust hauls Cassandra out of the bar, as the pair of them continue to shout whiskey-spit slathered insults at each other, the violence of the curses slithering up from wherever they had hidden it with pills, liquor or sex, for the time being. The moment the bloody meat of catharsis presents itself, they turn into rabid dogs; heat, insect bites and all.

After body slamming the bar door to open it, Rust has to restrain himself from shoving Cassandra off of his chest as she unevenly places her feet on the asphalt, the heel of her cowboy boot twisting and making her stumble to her knees. Rust, still too furious with her goddamn attitude and the bartender's comments, doesn't even turn around as he strides towards the Motel 6,

'Get the fuck up and walk, Cassandra.'

Cassandra pushing herself up, the gravel still embedded in the soft flesh of her palms,

'Oh, so now you're fucking mad at me?!'

'What did I goddamn tell you?'

'To not call you Rust.'

'Shut the fuck up with that, right now.'

'Then, what?'

Rust doesn't look at her. Hell, he even quickens his stride,

'That you're gonna get yourself fuckin' killed with that goddamn mouth. You know the shit an angry man is capable of better than anyone else and you're far too fuckin' smart to be having pissin' contests with a bunch of liquored up assholes.'

It's harsh. Shit, it's a punch to the gut, Rust knows, but he's gotten to the point where he cares about Cassandra way too fucking much to let her be this goddamn stupid when he's around. She knows that, ashamed of her own naivety in thinking that she could ever protect herself from a man who wanted to hurt her. Rust glances at her,

'I get that you're angry, Cass. Don't let it make you a dumbass.'

'Anger is the only goddamn thing that has ever kept me safe. Angry women are the only people who have ever kept me safe.'

Rust clenches his jaw but knows that she's right and finds a lingering sense of relief that she didn't include him, on that list.

Even more so when she has him on his back on their motel room mattress. Rust knows it's goddamn selfish and twisted to be grateful for Cassandra's hard-earned cynicism, won from the sharp edge of male entitlement, but it keeps her fucking safe from him. Ironically, when they fuck is the only time that she doesn't look at him with a tinge of that silent, gnawing desperation. No, not with the way that she's moving on top of him, now; tits pushed up in that white lace bra, strands of hair getting stuck on the slick bottom lip of her open mouth. After Cassandra had desperately scrambled to get out from underneath him, shoving his shoulders down as she'd promised,

'Please-I'm sorry-It'll feel good. Just let me.'

An inversion for both of them, as they slowly find their rhythm; the bed's awkward creaking a deep contrast with the pure fucking heat in their held stare. Rust doesn't know what to do with his shit but lie back and try not to come just from the way she looks at him. Ever since being undercover, sex has been another convoy of power and domination; violence with just the same amount of blood and spit. Sex has never been an essentially good thing for Rust, not until he met Claire. For a couple years it was, now it's just become an amalgamation of proving how much of a sick asshole he is to the rest of the Crusaders and a reminder of the lurid hubris that led to his daughter's death. To be forced back onto this mildew infested mattress, and have a girl as beautiful as Cassandra take care of him, makes Rust want to either vomit or cry. But he lets her, he knows she needs this shit. Let her feel in control for 5 goddamn minutes of her life, Rust thinks, as Cassandra deeply rolls her hips down as he lifts up. An in adverted moan escapes from both; skin starting to gloss over with exertion. They both attempt to inculcate some of that violence they both need so badly: Cassandra scrapes her nails down his chest and forearm, while Rust reaches that very forearm up to grab her throat, his other hand forming yet another bruise on her hip.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Cassandra whimpers out, as she stares down at Rust who reaches the hand that's on her thigh to grab his Camels; desperate for a goddamn anchor. As he lights one, he holds her there by the throat. Cassandra stares down at him, her body trembling with pleasure but her gaze steady.

They don't kiss.

[leonsleftbicep]

GUYS IM DOING IT

GUYS IM DRAWING THE FUCKERS

IM MAKING THE ART OF SOME GAYS THAT ARENT SLEEP TOKEN

okay well i am going to draw IV

BUT IM DRAWING ARCANE STUFF!!!

its currently just a few face studies to understand how to draw silco and viktor’s faces from different angles

THEN I’LL DRAW VANDER AND JAYCE AND THEN WE’LL SEE IF I GO CRAZY AND DRAW VI AND CATILYN(maybe) AND JINX MAYBE EKKO

OMG I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS FLOOD OF CREATIVITY!!!

[missmoonfrost]

A nudge from James - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

February 9 - heart - 487 words

Remus came in the door to their dorm. “James, I need that Potions book you borrowed.”

“It’s over there, by your stuff.”

Sirius and Remus both looked puzzledly at him. That pile of things was Sirius'. James knew that.

Sirius saw it just as Remus went to grab his book. On top of the pile was a bunch of parchments he was sure he had buried at the bottom of his trunk.

“No, wait!”

It was too late. Remus was already staring at the pages.

“You fucker!” Sirius threw a book after James who was already halfway out the door.

Sirius didn’t like to call himself talented. But the sketches were good enough that anyone could see who they portrayed. Remus. Remus in all kinds of cute poses. There was even one with the two of them kissing, the supposed to be him could pass for someone else, but that hardly made any difference as almost every page was scattered with silly hearts.

Still staring, Remus put one hand to his mouth, loosening his grip on his returned Potions book resulting in some handwritten parchments falling out and landing on the floor. Sirius caught a glimpse of his own name before Remus began hurriedly gathering the pages.

“Don’t read that!”

Of course not. He must be too creeped out to want anything to do with Sirius now.

“I’m sorry, Remus. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I know it’s weird. I…”

“Sirius, stop.”

“Because you’re too creeped out to listen to me?”

He gave a short burst of laughter. “I could listen to you all day. But I’d rather kiss you if that’s an option.”

“I… What?”

“You know what, do read this. I don't know how James found it, but after I've seen your drawings it's only fair.”

He held out one of the earlier dropped pages.

There is one star in the sky that outshines the moon, and its name is Sirius.

Sirius felt his jaw dropp. It all continued in the same style. Poetry. About him.

When he looked up Remus' cheeks were bright pink and his eyes intently studying Sirius' response. Sirius did not wait for another invitation. With a gasp, he threw himself around the neck of Remus and kissed him right on the mouth. Strong arms grabbed him and drew him closer. Remus kissed him back with an eagerness and a passion that made the world stop spinning.

Half an hour later when James cautiously opened the door, Sirius hit him in the head with a pillow. “You did that on purpose!”

Seeing Sirius and Remus with their arms around each other, his face relaxed.

“You think?” James rolled his eyes. “I was tired of seeing you two dance around each other.”

Sirius looked at Remus who huffed at James with pretended irritation and then smiled lovingly right back at him. Yeah, maybe they had needed a little nudge.

[sweetdreamlandstuff]

Let me see

NSFW / Minors don't interact / 18+

Pairing: Kamo Choso x female reader

Summary: Art student Choso losing his mind over you, the beautiful model in his art class

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving)

Words: ~1.900

Notes: Just a sweet little gift for all my Choso fuckers out there lol Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

This is far from the first time for him. Choso’s eyes have glided along countless body shapes, sizes and curves. He’s used to it; to the nudity, the slow peeling off of clothes, in a non-sexual, professional way. 

But since you’ve taken off your clothes his usual professionalism seems to have left his body. You’re not like the other models. At least not for him. You’re different.

You’re stirring something inside of him, as you fix your gaze on one point of the room, body bare, face open and curious. You’re beautiful. Objectively. But for him, for Choso, you’re more. Your whole aura makes him feel like he’s on edge.

His pencil drags along his canvas, drawing along with the other students in the art class. It's quiet, except for the scraping of pencils, and faint comments of the teacher, who’s wandering aimlessly through the room. He wonders if the others can hear his heart racing in his chest. 

He works on the shadows, as he desperately wishes it were his fingers dipping into the shadows of your body instead. Your skin seems so soft, so touchable, your pose so calm, your expression collected. You’re truly ethereal.  

Choso tries to concentrate, working on his study, sketching and blurring until he is somehow satisfied - although he knows no painting will ever do your beauty justice.

He hopes no one notices how greedily his eyes drag along your silhouette, how desperately he wishes that instead of his pencil dragging along the canvas, it would be his fingers dragging along your curves. 

When his gaze rests too long on you he nervously shifts his attention back to the canvas in front of him, blocking the view of you. He tries to ignore the way his blood runs hot through his veins with every sight of you. His heart nervously tugs in his chest every time he takes you in. He feels weak at how he’s fallen prey to you, his body acting on his own. 

Others wouldn’t even notice what is going through him, Choso’s expression is as neutral and stoic as ever. When he excuses himself to go to the toilet, no one would ever suspect it's because of you. Because you almost make it hard for him to breathe or because his dick strains so hard against the confinement of his pants. 

Choso on the other hand can’t comprehend how the others can’t notice. The reflection of his black eyes stares back at him deliriously, knuckles turning white as his hands grab the sink tightly. His breathing is erratic and shallow, his blood running hotly through his veins. 

He ignores the throbbing of his cock, trying to deepen his breath as he focuses his thoughts on everything - everything other than you. He loses track of time, of how long it takes for him to pull himself together. 

When he enters the classroom again he’s taken aback. Seems like he has allowed himself too much time. The class had ended. One of his classmates rushes past him, shooting him a polite smile before Choso is all alone with you.

You’re clad in a kimono now, the delicate fabric slightly swaying across your ankles as you turn around.

The line of your gazes connected, just for a moment before Choso quickly averts his. Your gaze hit him hard and sweet, making his heart tug nervously in his chest as if he hasn’t just spent minutes trying to calm himself down. 

He inhales sharply through his nose, returning to his seat. His unfinished painting stares back at him, causing him discontent. 

“I can pose for you for another 10 minutes.”

His eyes snap up, peering past his canvas, resting on yours. A soft, almost shy smile plays around your lips. Your voice has a soothing tone, alluring. 

“No. No, you don’t have to,” he stammers, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. You’re so affectionate, so attentive.

“I can also do another pose,” you propose. 

Choso knows that he shouldn’t say yes. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate, wouldn’t be able to paint like he usually does - without emotion, only caring about his study. But he’s so powerless, succumbing to your enchantment. 

“Alright, I’ll be quick.”

He has to swallow hard as you lose your kimono, folding it away before you strike your pose. Like earlier right in front of him, sitting on the chair, one leg over the other, staring to the right. 

You slightly tilt your head, “Like this?”

It’s an honor to paint you from every angle. Nonetheless, he takes long strides over to you. The sudden lack of proximity has his palms dampening, pulse racing, as his eyes trail across your features.  

And it’s no different for you. He practically looms over you, taking up your entire line of sight. It’s a little bit unexpected. You gulp, his blown-out pupils take your words away.

He gestures for you to move further to the right on the chair, positioning yourself more diagonally. When he orders a further correction you don’t seem to get what he’s saying, too caught up with processing the closeness you find yourself to him. 

“Can I?”

You nod. His fingertips trace along your bare skin, causing shivers to rise. The touch doesn’t seem to leave him cold either, you can feel it; the slight, but noticeable trembling of his hands.

Choso positions you how he desires; his hands circling your wrist, putting it close to your waist, the other hanging loosely on your side. His fingertips glide along your jawline before he slightly angles your face towards him. You have no other choice but to look at him. 

The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. You swallow against the dryness of your mouth. 

You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s doing, it just seems like he just wants to press his hands onto you, with no end goal, no plan. You shudder at the brush of his fingertips against your skin.

Both of you forgot all about the painting, the only thing that is important now is his hot hands on you. His palms glide along your sides before they rest on your thighs. His figure encompasses you fully now, you bask in his warmth, his scent. 

You think he must hear it, the way your heart beats against your ribcage and your shallow, fast breathing. 

But his gaze is laced with uncertainty, an almost pleading, questioning look in his dark eyes. Apparently, he has no idea that he has you in the palm of his hand, quite literally. 

Choso hesitates once his hands smooth over your thighs. 

His voice is barely above a whisper, so low you hardly understand him. “Let me see.”

A little gasp drops past your lips and you’re not sure how a complete stranger has such a command over you. 

You open your legs for him, slowly, deliberately. 

He sinks down to his knees, practically facing your slick pussy. You can feel his breath against your skin.

For one hour you stood naked in front of a dozen of people. Yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this exposed. 

You’re about to close your legs again, but his hands dig into your soft flesh, halting your movement.

“Please, can I?” His voice almost breaks, dripping with need.

You’re not sure what exactly he asks for, but you comply willingly. You nod eagerly, as he peers up at you, his gaze hazed over with lust.

The meeting of his lips on your skin draws a strained gasp from you. He worships you, pressing feathery kisses onto your thighs, first paying attention to one thigh and then to the other. Slowly he works his way to your core. Your hands grip the edge of your seat, your heart beating so violently against your chest it may spring out of it.

Your skin burns where he touched you, the anticipation of having him where you need him the most nearly breaking you apart. The air hits your slick vulva, making apparent how feverishly you desire him. 

You slightly arch your back in an instinctual search for more. He complies eagerly, and as you feel his tongue lazily tracing along your pussylips you let out a low, relieved sigh. He groans at your taste, his hands grabbing at the meat of your thighs. 

He works awfully slow, licking slow stripes up your slit, carefully veering around your clit. You slightly rut into his face, making him hum against your core, the low vibrations of it making you gasp. Your thighs were already becoming slick with your arousal.

His hands tighten around your thighs, holding himself back, restraining himself from giving you his all. Choso has you squirming with anticipation. 

“Please,” you hum, snaking a hand down to tug on his black hair. 

And again, he complies. He licks at your clit, lazily, almost teasingly. A breathless moan drops from your parted lips. The sound travels straight to his cock, throbbing desperately in his taut pants. 

You gasp in surprise as he moves, letting your legs rest on his broad shoulders, holding your waist to stop you from falling off the edge of the chair. 

He buries his face between your thighs greedily. All his teasing patience has subsided. His tongue laps at your folds and lips, with an almost brutal pace. Your hands tug harder at his hair once his lips seal around your clit, sucking hard. 

You whine desperately, your eyes almost rolling back to your skull. Finally, you have what you’ve longed for. 

He works like that, his tongue draws circles around your clit, sucking, lapping at your drenched folds, coaxing you into bliss. It almost sounds obscene, so wet, the way his face meets your messy, dripping pussy. He makes you feel so good, so unbelievably good.

Your eyes were half-lidded, your head was thrown back, until you felt him retreating. You perk up. His warm breath fans over your wet pussy, your soft pants and moans filling up the quiet room.

“Choso.” 

You look at him dumbfounded, brain clouded with lust. “What?” 

“My name. It’s Choso. You should know who makes you feel this good,” he murmurs sheepishly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he looks at you tenderly through his half-lidded eyes.

You let out a surprised laugh, which bleeds into a high-pitched whine as he buries his face between your legs once more. 

You moan his name, letting it roll off your leaden tongue tentatively, causing him to groan desperately against you. 

You meet his eyes, as he circles your entrance. He moves impossibly closer, fucking you with his tongue. His face becomes blurred as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. 

He flips his tongue on your puffy clit, before he sucks hard, having you call out his name as you tip over the edge.

You cum, hard. The whole tension that has been building up before discharges at this moment. 

Your thighs squish around his messy face as he guides you through your high with his skilled mouth. 

His name drops from your parted lips, again and again, like a prayer. He holds you steady with his large hands, as your whole body trembles. 

When he lets go of you, his face is drenched. The look of reverence in his eyes as he peers up at you makes your chest swell with affection. 

You let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Choso.”

©sweetdreamlandstuff

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

See My Scars - Ghost x Hawk Scene

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

A/N: Short scene from later in Simon + Wren's story. Takes place in Russia after the 141 finds out Graves has been smuggling weapons for Makarov. Graves takes Wren hostage and tortures her, Simon comes to her rescue, and Wren kills Graves. Simon and Wren have a heart-to-heart one night following, and suddenly they're confessing. Then they're kissing. Here's what happens next...

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Injuries/Scars, Military Themes (Call of Duty), Mentioned Torture (past, by Graves), Implied Abuse (past, by Graves), Mentions of Simon’s Past, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied NSFW

It was all a blur when he laid her down, large hands surprisingly gentle with her small, bruised frame. She saw him pause… hesitation? She draws her knees up to her chest and waits patiently, her own nerves beginning to get the better of her. 

Shit, this was a mistake, I - 

Her breath stops when she meets his gaze. He peers down at her, eyes dark and intense, a great strength suppressed between his taught shoulders. “Y’sure you want to do this, Wren?”

His voice is deep, gravelly. She’d be lying if it didn’t turn her on, but she knows the weight of what they’re about to do - she knows they can’t go back.

Maybe I don’t want to go back, a voice screams inside of her, threatening to burst out her chest as she nods slowly, replacing all the things she wishes she could say with a single, ‘yes.’

He hums in acknowledgement and crawls toward her, hands gingerly beginning to explore. He rubs at her sides, her shoulders, and commits each freckle and blemish on her face to memory. His finger draws a line up her jaw and comes to rest on her cheek, right underneath the gash Graves had just given her. She flinches at the contact, despite how gentle it is, as his finger ghosts over dried blood and traces the shape of the gash all the way from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her eye.

His gaze is cold, unwavering as he studies it. She feels him tense up ever so slightly, and for a moment she’s worried he’s gotten cold feet, but he growls lowly and shifts his deep brown eyes to meet hers.

“Fucker had it coming. If you hadn’t killed him, I would’ve.”

“Simon,” she sighs, bringing her hand up to rest over his on her cheek, tiny fingers drawing in comparison to his. He grunts and shakes his head. She’s still reeling over the loss of him - of Phillip - and he knows that. But that wouldn’t make him forgive what Graves did to her.

“I would’ve.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning her head into his hand. His eyes soften, though they keep their dark, almost hungry hue. Then he kisses the bridge of her nose, right where the scar began, and dips his head to her neck, softly mouthing at the exposed skin.

His lips on hers earlier that night had been one thing, but his lips on her body now… a heat she’d long forgotten about rose slowly in her core, her breathing hastening as his hands tug at the bottom of her shirt. Simon moves slowly, carefully, because he knows how fragile she is right now.

He wasn’t prepared for the mess of bruises that adorn her chest and ribs, deep purple tones splotched over skin that was far too perfect to be hurt.

His breath hitches when he sees them - all of them - staining the skin of his woman. He tenses again, repressing his anger. Wren recoils out of nervousness, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and Simon panics, quickly extending his hand out to her. He doesn’t know how to handle this, how to treat her… and he’s scared.

“Graves did this to you?” Simon utters, frozen in place, a deep hatred slowly bubbling up and conflicting with his fear of scaring Wren off.

“Not all of it,” she replies, voice low and somber. “But, most, yeah.”

“Did he… touch you?” He tries with every fiber of his being to keep his voice restrained, but Simon had never been too good at dealing with anger. He could repress it, sure, but that was what always drove so many people away - he was cold, aloof, unapproachable. And when his feelings were now so strong, so overwhelming, all his instincts tell him to run away, to isolate and compartmentalize.

But he knows, maybe painfully so, that deep down he doesn’t want that. He wants her. So he stays, and he waits with tense shoulders and a clenched fist.

“No. Wouldn’t let him.” Her voice trails off as she tries desperately to read his gaze, cursing each blemish that greeted Simon so prominently. Simon breathes a noticeable sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes softening. If she looks hard enough, she swears she can see the wetness of tears in the very corners of his eyes, mixing with the remainder of the eyeblack he just couldn’t wash off at this point. She sighs. “I know they’re not pretty. If you don’t-”

“Wren.”

Her eyes snap up to watch him wordlessly undress, his huge hands lingering on the hem of his shirt before slowly pulling it over his head. He stops about halfway through, his hand shaking as he holds the fabric just over his ribs and holds her gaze silently - watching, waiting, debating.

Then he hesitantly pulls the fabric completely up to reveal a long, dark gash across his right rib cage that had never quite healed right. The skin was patched with ridges and divots, dark red marks adorning the mottled skin.

“Hung,” he explains. “Mexican cartel. Corrupted an old captain of mine. I won’t burden you with the details.”

“Si…”

“All these burns,” he nods to each red splotch, so numerous and concentrated that there was hardly any untouched skin there, “Field burns. Or cigarette burns… from my father. This,” he opens up his right hand to reveal a long slit with what looked like scars from stitches, “was from digging out. When I was buried alive with ‘em. Used his jawbone and it fucked up my hand.”

She tries hard to hold back tears - Simon never spoke much about his past. She knew things, of course, but not when he was this vulnerable. But he holds her gaze, and it's intense.

“And everything else? Wren, I have been beaten and shot and stabbed and fucked - if you think I’m going to be bothered by some marks, then I’m a goddamn hypocrite and you’re out of your fucking mind.”

She quirks her lips up into a sad smile, reaching her hand out and beginning to trace each mark on his chest. “Si… ‘M sorry all that happened. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t need to say anything, Little Bird,” he grunts, leaning back down and catching her lips once more. “Just have me.”

And she did.