#tw; body worship

[terrence-silver]

Could we please have Terry body worshiping or just worshiping Beloved in general. Thanks :)

---

Nyotaimori. (女体盛)

He observed the practice in Japan back in the 80's and beforehand too, as far back as the 70's, in Korea; From Onsens to corporate company afterparties behind closed doors he frequented in high end Tokyo afterhours before the turn of the millennia. The act of being on display and the nude form being used as an artistic canvas for serving food presented on sanitized leaves on sufficiently flat areas of the physique while the subject lay perfectly still, not interacting with any of the patrons under the strictest traditional decorum. It translated to body sushi. Nantaimori (男体盛り) its male equivalent. Terry hums in contentment at the etymology as he observes the fish rolls and seaweed covering your nipples, forming an immaculate pattern. A handful of supple fruit, berries and black grapes in the crevice where your tights touched, forming a v-shape. Bamboo leaves and rose petals covering your legs riddled with circles of lined up fresh fruit, a colorful mosaic of Julienned Daikon raddish and thinly cut stripes of salted Anago eel and yellow melons. A fragrant, tiny, softly cooked, partially caramelized peach in your mouth, balanced carefully between two lips, serving as a makeshift, edible gag in a room filled with lit candles and a red tinted hue. A single red cherry adorning your bellybutton like a shimmering ruby. He never allowed any of his chefs to arrange this. His waiting staff. No catering service under the sun he could pay for in The Valley and beyond. They never laid a hand on you. Never saw you like this. He did this, all of it, personally. Laying you down. Undressing you. Decorating you. Washing you beforehand, not missing a single nook or cranny on your skin.

Doing so for himself. By himself. For his eyes only. For his taste buds.

Terry was both the artist and the consumer tonight.

Chopsticks long since forgotten and entirely discarded, Terry deliberately chooses to proceed ahead with a silver fork at his own leisure as he's seated in front of his very own spread on a table that is both the place of dining and your bed and he eats, savoring the Shizoake and the spiced rice served on your thigh, a single tiny round ceramic dish of soy sauce to dip his rounds into on your knee. Was there ever a better plate? -"In 2005, China outlawed this. Can you believe it?"- Custom demands that he don't speak to you but he supposes he can't resist, even though he knows you can't and shouldn't respond, the peach in your mouth standing as hindrance. He has to chuckle into his own chin, amused at the anecdote he was about to regale. -"It never ceases to amaze me how some people just don't know how to live."- He proceeds, shaking his head with a smile, the tip of the fork carefully impaling itself on a handful of Sashimi, making contact with your skin enough to pinch as he places the bite into his mouth, chewing. Content. Watching your body still. He washes the residual food down with a quick shot of Whisky. -"Not like us."- He adds tenderly, looking at you even though your gaze was firmly pinned to the ceiling from the position you were laying down in, your head resting on other end of the table, feet facing his torso. Each toe adorned with a ring of pineapples. You could hear him. Oh, you could hear him, even though you couldn't exactly see. -"We're so good together. So perfect."- He coos, leaning down, until his mouth was brushing against your smallest finger alongside his tongue, devouring the fruit crowning your toe, leaving the slickness of his saliva behind.

Kissing the aftermath.

You were delicious.

The most delectably delicious morsel Terry Silver's ever tried.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

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

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

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

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

“May I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hey…”

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

“Don’t touch me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… thank you…”

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

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

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

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

“Need something?”

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

“I… don’t need anything.”

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

“Ah, it still hurts?”

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

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

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

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

And he would give you anything…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was just perfect.

For now…

(More?)

————————

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

[greengoblinswifey]

Temple— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— they always say “your body is a temple” and boy is nicholas’ body a temple you love to climb and worship.

warnings— PURE SMUT. fingering, hand job, oral(m receiving), unprotected sex, mirror play, spit kink, praise kink, degrading kink, body worship, ass slapping, choking, creampie, daddy kink, breeding kink, cum eating, rough sex, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— ovulating and wrote this based on these pictures because he looks so good, ugh, i NEED him. (not prof read)

You were wandering the aisles of your favorite boutique, surrounded by the chatter of other shoppers. Just as you picked up a cute dress, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, expecting a simple text, but what you saw made your breath hitch and your pussy throb.

Nicholas had sent you a picture of himself shirtless, standing in his bathroom with the light cascading down his chiseled abs, his hair slightly damp and tousled and then one with the hat you gifted him on. He looked incredible, his physique had transformed since you first started dating for his new roles, becoming more defined and muscular, and it left you utterly speechless.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip as heat pooled in your core. God, he looks good. You remembered when you first met him, he was charming and sweet, and you loved him just as he was then. But this new version of him? It ignited something deep within you. It was as if every sculpted muscle was begging for your attention, and all you could think about was how much you needed him inside you, pounding you.

The dress you were holding suddenly felt heavier as you clutched it tighter, trying to maintain your composure in the middle of the store. Your thighs clenched instinctively, and you could feel the flush creeping up your cheeks. How was it possible for someone to look that good? You found yourself blushing, desperately trying to focus on the price tags in front of you, but your mind was racing with thoughts of him.

You quickly typed back, your fingers trembling as you tried to keep it casual. “Wow, what are you trying to do to me?” You hit send, your heart racing with anticipation. He was always playful, but this felt different, this felt more personal, more intimate.

As you made your way to the cash register, you could still see him in your mind, his body the definition of perfection. You swiped his card without a second thought, the thrill of using his money adding to your excitement. If only he were here right now. You imagined him behind you, his hands resting on your hips, whispering sweet nothings as you paid.

Your thoughts swirled with desire, longing to feel his warmth against your skin, to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. His body was a temple, you thought, it was a holy site you craved to explore.

With a final glance at the dress in your hands, you decided to head home, your mind set on what would happen once you got there. You needed him, and you could already envision the fire igniting between you two as soon as you walked through the door.

As you rushed through the front door, adrenaline surged through you. You barely took the time to drop your shopping bags before you heard the unmistakable sound of the shower turning off.

You quietly made your way down the hallway, the steam still lingering in the air, and as you approached the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of him stepping out, droplets of water glistening on his perfectly chiseled body. Nicholas looked like a god, one you craved to worship, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light, every curve and contour accentuated.

You leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized, your breath catching in your throat. This was everything you’d imagined and more. He dried himself off with a towel, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you relished the view, every single inch of him was a work of art.

But you were done watching. The heat radiating from your core was too strong to ignore, and all rational thoughts slipped away. Without a second thought, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving yourself bare and vulnerable in the dim light.

The chill of the air contrasted sharply with the heat building inside you, but it only fueled your desire further. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart pounding, and when he finally turned to face you, his eyes widened in surprise and hunger.

“Nicholas,” you breathed, your voice thick with need. You stepped closer, the space between you two disappearing as the urgency of the moment enveloped you.

“Hey baby— oh shit.”

His towel dropped to the floor, forgotten, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, raw, exposed, and yearning for each other.

“Oh god, I need you so bad,” you whined, your body pressed against his as you desperately kissed him all over his chest and tipped to meet his cheeks and lips.

Nicholas pulled you close, laughter in his eyes as he felt your warmth enveloping him. “What’s gotten into you, pretty baby?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you felt the heat radiating off his body. “Look at you,” you replied, your voice breathless. “Walking around here looking like this, sending me pictures of you shirtless… God, what do you expect?”

With a mischievous smile, you moved behind him, admiring his tall, muscular frame in the mirror. You couldn’t help but caress his abs, fingers tracing the defined lines, marveling at the way his body felt under your touch. He threw his head back in pleasure, a low groan escaping his lips as your hands explored him.

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter giving way to something more primal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body responded to your every caress. His thick, long cock was painfully hard now , and you could sense the need in him building, mirroring your own.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him gently as you both stared into the mirror. The sight was mesmerizing, his face contorting with pleasure, the way he fell apart under your touch, completely lost in the moment.

As you continued, you watched him unravel, utterly captivated by how hot he was, how perfectly he fit into your desires.

“Look at yourself daddy, I’m making you feel so good, you look so fucking sexy,” you panted, speeding up your movements.

You bit your lip as you felt him jump and throb in your hands, everything he did made you feral. Then, with a shudder and a low moan, you felt the warmth spill onto your hand, a testament to the electric connection between you two.

“Open your eyes,” you demanded. They fluttered open and he watched in the mirror as you sucked his cum from off your fingers before lifting them up to his lips making him taste what was left of himself. He hummed in content, the sound going straight to your pussy but you would deal with that problem soon.

“No,” you said, determination lacing your voice as you looked up at him. “I need to give you more. I want to show you just how much I appreciate you.”

Slowly, you sank to your knees, eyes locked onto his as you let your tongue glide over his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. You trailed your tongue down to his abs, worshipping every ridge and contour. “You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “So sexy, Daddy.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the effect you had on him, his body responding to your every move. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his cock again, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Look at how big you are,” you praised, your voice dripping with admiration. “So perfect in my hands.” You leaned closer, giving him a teasing lick, savoring the taste of him, and your eyes rolled back in pleasure at how good he tasted. “Mm, you taste amazing daddy.”

With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him fill you completely. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of worshipping him. “You taste so good,” you whispered between breaths, and Nicholas groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “You’re fucking incredible.”

You continued, letting his praises wash over you, and as you felt him hold your head down and cum down your throat, it was like fireworks exploded around you. You savored the moment, knowing you had brought him to this point of ecstasy.

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling bold. With your fingers, you gathered the rest of his release from his hard cock and brought it to your mouth. You took it in, savoring the taste, and smeared it and your saliva over his chiseled abs. You couldn’t resist the urge to lick it all off, your body shuddering with each stroke of your tongue.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, y’know that?” he said, watching you with a mix of awe and desire. “I appreciate that, baby. But now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

He positioned you in front of him, hoisting one of your feet up onto the counter, giving him a better angle. “Open your mouth,” he commanded softly, and you complied eagerly, watching as he spat into your waiting mouth. You swallowed it happily, feeling the rush of satisfaction.

Nicholas trailed his finger down your body, stopping at your soaking wet pussy. As he slipped a finger inside you, you gasped, your body arching toward him instinctively. “Look at yourself in the mirror,” he instructed, his voice thick with lust. “Look how beautiful you are.”

You glanced up, eyes locking with your reflection. The sight of you, flushed and breathless, sent a thrill through you. Nicholas’ finger worked expertly inside you, curling just right, and the pleasure began to build. “That’s it, baby. You’re so beautiful when you come apart like this,” he praised, his gaze never leaving your face as he watched you surrender to the waves of ecstasy. “Let me see you feel good.”

With each movement of his fingers, the pleasure surged higher, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. “Daddy,” your moans filling the room as you finally reached your release, trembling under his touch.

“That’s it, I’ve got you baby, daddy’s got you,” he cooed, rubbing your clit fast as your body jolted and slowly came down from your high.

Nicholas trailed kisses down your neck and across your shoulders, his lips warm against your skin. “Look in the mirror, baby,” he murmured, his breath hot against you. You obeyed, your heart racing as you met your own gaze, feeling every kiss ignite your desire.

With a sudden, playful movement, he bent you over the counter, a sharp smack landing on your ass. “You look so sexy like this,” he teased, watching you wiggle your backside against him. You grinned back at him, biting your lip. “You look like a Greek god,” you shot back, and he smirked, pride flashing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, holding your neck gently but firmly, bringing you back against his chest. You arched into him, feeling his hard cock tease against you as he slipped inside, filling you completely.

He began to pound into you roughly, his grip on your neck ensuring you were locked onto his gaze in the mirror. “Keep those eyes on me,” he commanded, and when you felt the urge to close them, he shook you slightly. “Look at yourself!”

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you gasped, feeling the pleasure building inside you.

“Tell me more,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how fucking hot I am.”

You nodded, breathless, “You’re so hot, so beautiful. I love your body, daddy. I love how you look as you pound into me.”

“Such a dirty slut,” he teased, reveling in the sight of you enjoying every second. He rubbed your clit, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Look at yourself being fucked.”

With a loud moan, you surrendered to the man behind, your release washing over you as you cried out his name like it was the only word you knew.

Nicholas smirked, a glint in his eye. “I’m not done with you yet,” he declared, hoisting you up effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs. He turned you sideways, positioning you perfectly so you could watch him slam into you.

“Worship me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly making you throb.

You felt a surge of excitement course through you, and you nodded, biting your lip as you gazed into his eyes. “You’re everything, Nicholas. So strong, so perfect,” you whispered, your heart racing at the power he held over you, “you’re so fucking beautiful, your body is a work of art.”

With each thrust, he drove deeper, filling you completely. “That’s it, baby. You know how to treat me right,” he growled, his tone playful yet commanding. “Show me how much you want me.”

You leaned forward, kissing him passionately, your hands roaming over his chiseled chest and arms. “I need you,” you breathed between kisses. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough daddy.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “I want to see you cum again.”

You gasped as he hit that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. “Daddy!” you cried out, feeling yourself on the edge once more. “I’m so close!”

“Then let go for me,” he urged, his eyes locked on yours, watching as the ecstasy took over. “Worship your man, baby.”

With one final thrust, you felt the familiar rush of pleasure envelop you as you climaxed, a wave of satisfaction washing over you. “Nicholas!” you cried, and he groaned in response, losing himself in the moment as he held you close, his body trembling with the intensity of it all but still not releasing.

He didn’t let you go. Instead, he laid your body down on the counter just a little, your legs wrapped tightly around him as he pounded into you once more. The world flipped upside down as you caught your reflection in the mirror, his tall frame hovering above you. The sight of him, muscles glistening and face twisted in pleasure, made your head spin.

“Who’s your daddy?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, his hand firm around your neck, exerting just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

“You,” you gasped, barely able to catch your breath. “You look like a god, so so h-handsome.”

The feeling of being so close to him made you dizzy, and his relentless thrusts only intensified the sensation. “I’m gonna fill you up and breed you like a bitch,” he growled, and your body responded to his words, craving more.

“Please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper as you gasped for air, but the urgency in your tone said everything. “I want it. I want you. I want your cum inside me!”

He smirked, the heat of his breath against your skin sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Since you think I’m so perfect, we’re gonna make the most perfect little babies,” he teased, pounding harder, deeper. You could feel the tension building as he brought you closer to the edge once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, each pulse of his hot cum sending waves of ecstasy coursing through both of you. You felt him tremble against you as he held your neck tightly, ensuring you were looking at yourselves in the mirror.

As the high faded, exhaustion washed over you. He scooped you up into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder like a baby, ironic, considering what just happened. He brought a towel to clean you up, laying you gently on the bed, his lips trailing soft kisses across your skin.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmured, pride evident in his voice. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you. You’re so perfect, princess.”

You cuddled into him, tracing circles on his pecs as you kissed his chest, savoring the warmth and safety of his embrace. In that moment, everything felt right, the world outside forgotten as you enjoyed the afterglow of what you had just shared.

[go6jo]

childhood friend karasu who throughout the years you've witnessed jump from one relationship to another despite the obvious feelings that are left unaddressed between the two of you. there is this tangible tension, one that grows substantial with time, with each relationship you watch him get into. and you're somewhat aware of your feelings towards each other yet neither of you own up to it.

you will often show up to his front door on a short notice, to hang out on the occasions that you were coincidentally driving past his house after work. more often than not, however, he'll open the door with his shirt slung over his shoulder, and if you took a peak inside you'd notice some girl, one that looks nothing like you, whose features couldn't be more distinct from your own, sprawled on the couch of his living room, her hair a mess, lipstick smeared all over her lips down to her chest, smudges of red disappearing under the collar of her shirt that's riding dangerously up her stomach. more often than not, too, he'll smirk at the way you look away from the scene in front of you, trying to act unfazed, how you try, to no avail, to conceal the frustration that shows in the furrow of your brows. jealousy, it reads on your face - it's written all over it, even a blind man could see it. "wanna join?" but you've already started walking away and tabito thinks he knows the answer, anyways. (you've never been one for sharing, not ever since you were a child and as he watches you leave there’s a certain tenderness that settles in his chest, that softens the smirk on his face into a subtle smile, one of affection upon realising that, when it comes to him, you never really stopped behaving like the little girl he knew and grew up with, the little girl who had always wanted him all to herself.)

you watch as girls grind up against him at the club everytime go out together. he’s grown handsome, you reckon, (more handsome now at 20 than 14 year old you would ever thought he’d turn out to be.), drawing some attention, girls naturally flocking to him - something you’re still not used to. him being the object of other people’s affection. you having to share. your eyes meet across the room - you stare at him in silent revulsion, as an affront when he lets them cling onto him, smirking at you over the girl's shoulder as she starts kissing up his neck, feeling him up, her manicured nails grazing down his chest. what are you gonna do about it, he mouths at you in defiance. like clockwork, you pretend that you didn't take notice of his disappearance, that you didn't feel a knot in your stomach as you watched some girl drag him into the bathroom with her and when it's time to leave, you pretend you don't notice that the buttons at the top of his shirt are undone - that he's breathless and his pupils are blown wide. you get in his car and he drives you both home - to his place - then you get inside and you both pretend like there is nothing to be said. you slip out of your heels and you curse him quietly when he walks past you into the living room. "you're an asshole, tabito" but there isn't any malice to it, it's meek in a way. sad and hopeless. he just scoffs in fake amusement, discarding of his shirt and throwing it in the couch. all of his witty qualities, any energy he might've had to retort with a cheeky remark began to fade as soon as he had walked through the front door. he always found it harder to play pretend in the silence of his home, away from all the buzz, where the feelings you've both been negleting for way too long begin to weigh heavy in the athmosphere. there's a certain bitterness hanging in the air as he adjusts himself on the couch to settle for the night, as you walk into his room and lock the door behind you. neither of you have the energy to argue anymore. you used to fight on nights like these, “does it bother you that much?”, he'd ask once the dust begins to settle with his forehead touching yours, holding your chin so you couldn’t avert your gaze away from him. “could be you, you know?”. he tells you as he kisses your cheek, left then right, on each corner of your mouth, dangerously close to your lips then holds your head against his chest. he could be so sweet, so convincing. you used to fight but that was before, when you still thought it was worth a shot, that this was worth fighting for - whatever this was. "just say the word and i’m yours, baby.”

liar. he’s pretending to care when he squeezes your hand a little tighter in his as soon as he begins to feel you grow restless as you struggle to engage in conversation with his friends, too afraid to intrude yet too scared of looking bored as they talk football tactics (you had just wanted to spend some time with him after a whole week of being too busy to hang out). faking the kindness in his smile, too, as he tries his best to put you at ease. they like, you know, he tells you once you leave, eita’s told me you should give him a call if you’re ever done being friends with me. he’s only feigning sympathy when he offers to rub your feet after a long day, when he kneads your calves as your legs rest over his on the couch. he’s pretending to be attentive when he rubs up and down your arms as you stand in line together to keep you cosy on a particular chilly day, lwhen he tells cashier your coffee order that he has memorized by heart, when he brings your hands up to his lips and blows some warmth into them, sharing some of his heat after your coffees run cold in your grasp, definitely only acting suave when he presses his lips ever so softly against the skin of your forehead to check your temperature when, on the following day, you tell him you might be getting sick.

so you refused to yield. you've loved him for as long as you can remember yet still you never wavered in your decision to refuse to surrender to him. he's all you've ever known, for the longest time you watched him jump from one relationship to another thinking that someday when he grew older, more mature, he'd stop playing these games with you. so you waited, you waited until you realised that maybe you'd never see the end of it, that maybe he just enjoyed being chased, enjoyed how suscetible you were to his provocations, thrived on your silent jealosy — he must have thought it was flattering. he's always loved to pick on those weaker than him, to feel like he has the upper hand while picking on their weaknesses and yours just so happens to be him. you don't think he ever means it when he says he'd be yours, that he'll drop his current girlfriend if you ask him to, if only you tell him you want him. to admit such a thing, however, you think, would be to akin to handing him the gun with which you he’ll make you meet your demise. it is a scary thing to have someone hold that power over you, the power to destroy you if they so desire. so you won't surrender, it hurts enough already as it is.

but he has needs, he tells you, (teases you), and if you won’t indulge him he will have someone else tend to them. and karasu does try to enjoy their company to a certain extent - pretends to make love to you through them. pretends it's your tongue he's sucking on, your whines, your scent, your touch. and even though he purposefully chooses girls that look nothing like you, he manages to get into it so long as he keeps his eyes shut. his relationships never go past the three month mark, though. Karasu does just enough to keep the entertained, kisses them nice and slow so they feel cared for, feels and gropes them over their clothes while whispering all kinds of dirty things into their ears, all the things he will do to them (all the things he’d like to do to you) and for a while those empty promises are enough to keep them around. he knows what women want and knows how to keep them on their toes. it never goes past that, though. it never lasts much longer once he begins rejecting their every advance because as soon as they start kissing down his chest, their fingers sneaking past the waistband of his underwear, he is grabbing their wrists while glancing down at them with a dangerous look on his face. it’s not long before they start whining at him, telling him he’s no fun and leave through the front door, never to be seen again. then he’s left to think of you. it was fun for a while, to introduce you to all of these different girls and watch you act friendly with them only for you to let your frustrations out on him as soon as the two of you were alone. it sort of amused him, really. for quite some time, your jealousy had been enough for Tabito, it'd been enough reassurance of the feelings you still harboured for him after all these years. it was proof that you desired him and maybe if your desire was strong enough, maybe you wouldn’t notice that he’s not that special after all. that there is nothing exceptional about him, not a secret quirk or any hidden talent or passion besides football - not much to give, not much to love. he had relied on all these girls who blindly craved him so hopefully you, too, would find him worthy of love, your love. but it's been too long now and you’re both adults and he's tired of playing this game of cat and mouse and you might probably think he's the worst person alive by now so it's no use trying to convince you of his feelings for you either. and how could he blame you for it, really? for not trusting him when all he has done for the past years is deceive you.

then he goes off to paris and he begins to take his relationships more seriously, as a way to actively work towards getting over you. he’s sparking all kind of dating rumours when he’s seen leaving practice with a french model under his arm. you haven’t heard of him for over a year and you see the pictures all over social media. on the first picture of the sequence you can tell he’s just left practice because his skin is covered in a wet sheen of sweat. he's smiling and his jersey is clinging to his torso almost a bit too provocatively (you're sure he'd bask in the praise of the people on the comment section complimenting his physique) and you can’t help but notice the way the sleeves are a little too tight around his arms, he has put on some muscle since the last time you saw him - he looks so handsome and hes a lot stronger and you miss him so much. you smile fondly at your screen but your smile begins to falter as you scroll through the pictures and theres an image of a blonde handing him a bottle of water while he noses at her cheek affectionately, in gratitude you think, another picture capturing a more intimate moment where he’s holding her head to his chest as he drinks from the bottle and you don't think you've ever seen him be this genuinely gentle towards anyone before, anyone but you. there is an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, you feel sick — it’s the first time you’re truly scared of losing him. you call him almost instantly - instinctively. you don’t know what to say if he picks up, you don’t even know if you want him to pick up, you don't even know why you’re calling him but you feel nauseous and your vision is blurry from all the tears that are threating to spill and its taking him way too long to pick up. you have half a mind to hang up when you hear his voice on the other end and you start sobbing, unable to form any cohesive sentences, apologizing to him instead, over and over again.

“hi, bab-“ it should've felt comforting to know that even after all this time his voice is still gentle when talking to you, that he'll never stop calling you baby - that you're still his baby.

“sorry.” you say in between hiccups “im sorry. please, tabito. im so sorry. dont do this, please.”

he wants to say he has no idea what you're talking about, that he's happy now, happy with her that he never once wondered how you'd react once the news reached you on the other side of the globe. he pretends he can't feel his heart aching in his chest at your crying fit because he'd dreamed of a moment like this - where you'd call him crying, begging for him. you'd always been so tough that he thought it'd be somewhat sweet to watch you finally break - he didn't foresee this though. feeling this gutted, this miserable at the weak sound of your voice, hating himself this much. he never thought things would reach such dimensions, could never imagine the depths of your feelings for him, that you'd hurt so much for him. its breaks his heart. he aches for you yet he finds you ache for him just as much.

"hey." he hushes. “i won’t, baby. i won’t, okay?”

his words seem to soothe you and he lets you cry for a little longer until your sobs gradually begin to fade on the other side of the line until it's mostly quiet. he runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what to tell you, of what to do.

“you have got to give me something here, pretty.” he can feel you grow agitated again as he listens to your quivering breath. “i need to know what you want.”

it's silent again until you begin to sob quietly, trying to get the words out. “i need you, please. don’t do this.”

“you’re hurting me, tabito.”

you sound so small, childish almost and he loathes it. he loves you and he doesn't want to see you hurt anymore, not for him. he loves you so much, so much, but he’d been so worried you’d see through him, that you'd deem him insignificant - so focused on making you love him. all this time he forgot about making you feel loved in return, cared for.

"your address still the same?" he wants to hold you, he thinks. to kiss your face while whispering sweet nothings onto your ear, again, again and again until you believe it when he tells you he loves you. he hears a sound of confirmation coming from you and he adjusts himself on the couch, a arm folding behind his neck for support, waiting for your breaths to even out and he tells you he’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. he stays and he completely forgets about the blonde sleeping in his bed next door.

a few days go by and you feel stupid for thinking that maybe he’d come to visit you, that he'd come to kiss away your tears and tell you that he wants to be with you, he’ll stay in japan just to be with you (you'd innocently dreamed of it. that his love for you would make him stay, your councious mind tells you that you'd never overcome that guilt, though. you'd never want to stall him, to ruin the bright future he has ahead of him. so instead, you choose to dream of a love that's enough to bind you two together despite however many miles might stand between the two of you.) you watch him on television and he shines on the field and you engrave that same image into the back of your mind because you think that’s the last you’ll ever see of him. but one day, two weeks after the call, when you’ve come to terms with the fact that maybe he’s not coming, he shows up at your doorstep and all you can do is drop your head onto his chest — surrendering, to him, in the sweetest submission. something so docile, so earnest it has his chest aching in adoration. there are no ulterior motives to your touches as you run your hands down the expanse of his arms only to finally link your fingers with his when you reach his hands. no other reason besides the fact that you want to touch him, feel him. he’s here and that’s enough. he’d been gone for so long that, for now, you won’t demand anything more of him except for his touch. it feels innocent again, mellow like when you were kids — uncomplicated. it feels overly sweet when you look up at him with honeyed eyes and hold his face in the palms of your hands getting on the tip of your toes to place a lingering kiss in the corner of his mouth, both of you with your eyes softly closed. then you move with uncertainty to brush your lips against his. it’s only then that he reacts, that he snaps out oh his reverie and grabs your face in his hands to put some distance between you. just enough so that he can look you in the eye, just enough to gain back his composure.

“no.” he locks eyes with you, holding you firmly in place. he kisses the furrow of your brows in a soothing manner, in reassurance at the look of betrayal on your face. “say it, baby.”

he looks down to traces a finger over the collar of your night dress and there a certain eagerness to his words, to the way he leans his forehead against yours and his chest is heaving in antecipation. he wanted to kiss you, too. and it fills you with courage.

“just make me your girlfriend, tabito,” you sigh “please.”

and it feels good to surrender. to be held in his arms as he kisses you slow, longingly. i have very little to offer you. the hands that roam your body and slide up your thighs under the fabric of your dress want to say. it’s enough, the hands that hold him closer to you whisper. you’re enough.

“you say it, now.” you pull away from him, breathless. “say it’s only ever been me.”

“yeah, baby. yeah.” he closes his eyes as he chuckles lovingly at the determination in your eyes and holds your head to his chest, close to his heart. (still not quite close enough.) “you’re my girl. you’ve always been my girl.”

[labyrinth-walls-tiny-worm]

[logan-the-artist]

perpetual profane

[lucky-punk-lemonade]

Faith and Similar Revelations

| Stiles doesn’t know about religion, but he knows where his faith is. [Established relationship; college relationship, implied smut MDNI 18+, acts of worship/body worship, religious subject matter] Stiles Stilinski (College!Stiles) Very much Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, but IB other Hozier songs obviously

Disclaimer!! This is not meant to offend religious people or to disparage religion. All religions, your opinions, and your beliefs are valid here.

This work belongs to me, lucky-punk-lemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

Stiles worships your body. Not in a blatant way, though. He’ll zone out and hyper-focus on your stomach while he presses messy, open-mouthed kisses to your navel. His eyelids get heavy in that love-drunk way as he kisses your thighs and up your rib cage, up toward your chest. Even when you’re arching off the bed, writhing in pleasure, messy and babbling, he’s brushing your hair up so he can see your pretty face. He’s studied so many religions alongside the supernatural, enjoying the perspective on them but not the insight gained through understanding. This helps him understand. The way your muscles contracted and your eyebrows furrowed. It was reverent, the way he cut the focus on his own pleasure so he could watch you shine. In a mortal way, you grabbed needily at the sheets and cursed, but in a way he never thought he’d witness in a college dorm; you smiled warmly with your eyes closed as he pulled your hips to his again and held your head up so he could keep admiring you, nothing short of praying to you.

He was so in over his head, he was so inexperienced, but you gave him a righteous grace in the way you moaned his name like he was doing something right, something good. Something worthy of that divine way your fingers played with his hair and your mouth kissed at his neck. And you let him. What he understood from his research, what always tied into the supernatural, was the humanity given to what people glorified. Compassion and beauty were human traits given to these beings. With every sign that you were human was more proof you were ethereal. He kissed you gratefully, content with never knowing if you were capable of bleeding like he bled. And it’s not like Stiles didn’t think you were human, but it was so far out of his mind when his fingers messily traced your lips, and you kissed him. Like a real person, but magnifying what it meant. It might’ve been delusion that took over when he’d murmur praises. How you were so sweet and right and merciful and…

You came in with that special kind of sanctitude. You were somehow human, somehow supernatural, and he understood how this had changed his mind. Regardless of religion, you’d made him better- happier-  and he was going to be deserving. Devout. It felt like a privilege when you’d kiss him, and his breathing would get shallow like he’d break down crying from how much love and devotion he felt from it. It felt like you’d bless him in that sweet way, and you’d praise him for simple actions as your eyes fluttered. When you said his name, it was gratifying. It was a novelty, the way you clung to him even minutes after you'd stopped shaking from his veneration, whining, and fawning.

You’d go half-limp because you knew he’d hold you up. And there he was holding you, saying, “C’mon, sweetheart. Gotta stay up f’me, let me see you.” In the only tone worthy of how pretty you looked, lolling your head with that exhausted grin. He’d use that time to focus on his hands firmly cupping your waist. Flesh and blood that he could hold and feel. He’d continue his ramblings, kneading at your hips distractedly as his eyes roamed indebtedly. He’d desperately repeat phrases like "Thank you, sweetheart” and “I love you, you’re so good to me” until the pieces got stuck in his teeth, all while you were slowly deflating to a comfortable position by his side. As luck would have it, you succumb to the same constraints he did. He’d listen when you’d breathe because when it fanned across his shoulder, he was reminded of what prevalent religions’ human’s first damning choice. How it was a choice, and then it was trust, and how he’d thank Eve for damning us all. Because if she had not, you might not have had the self-determination to choose him. While he didn’t know if religion was morally justified, he understood why so many people could put faith in the idea and how it created what we needed. A monster and a savior. Humans were never this simple, never good or bad. You had redefined the standard. You were the standard. Good and bad were mortal words, just like the traits of compassion and beauty. He would never figure out religion or the greater cause or why things came to be and how they’d end up, but he thanked Eve again for making the choice so, in some way, you had favored him. And you’d tell him he thinks too much when his mind is tired, and he’d tell you about his philosophy. But your hands were still in his hair, and he had found a light to fill his life with. The devoted looks didn’t stop when you started talking about your schedule and plans, and he saw no less divinity in your voice as it complained about classes and reminded him he had found this in a girl whose notes he had to borrow for a class he couldn’t stand.

[crisiscutie]

Sephiroth/Pregnant!Darling NSFW headcanons

Here's the NSFW and last component of the pregnant/domestic headcanons trilogy. First part here. Second here. Companion fic here.

Content Warnings: NSFW, Pregnancy kink, Milk/lactation kink, Body worship, Body change, Mentions of (but no actual) rough sex. Hints of Dark Sephiroth here and there.

Your first pregnancy happened because Sephiroth didn’t pull out like he normally does. His dark instincts overtook him. What began as a light, romantic melody soon morphed into a passionate, fast-paced rhythm.

Your body was incredibly sore afterwards, but it was the best sex you two ever had.

Sephiroth was fascinated by the changes your body went through during the pregnancies. He took mental note of even the slightest changes during them as well. He is marveled at how the seeds he planted has made your body blossom.

Your breasts became fuller and heavier, your hips were gently curved and inviting, and your belly became rounded and smooth like a dome. He takes joy in knowing that every part of you belongs to him.

When you began lactating, you could sense the intense, almost animalistic hunger whenever he gazed at your large, sensitive breasts.

You've asked him to milk you one time, and he readily obliged.

He gently tugged your large, sensitive nipples, invigorated by the milk coming out of them, while you stroke his thick cock.

Nursing handjobs occur occasionally. You absolutely love it when his glossy, pouty lips suckled the sweet milk out of your tits. It's a heavenly sensation when relief and pleasure sets in.

It's already hard enough for him to hold back during normal sex (barring the first time he impregnated you), but it takes ALL of his willpower to not go ballistic and fuck you into the bed during your pregnancies. His fear of hurting you and the little ones inside you is something that haunts him deep inside.

You remind him of his inner strength and reassure him he won't ever hurt you, given how far he has come. What happened with Genesis and your first time with him is behind you both; You tell him to focus on the present and create a future he's proud of.

Sephiroth has you lead the sex sessions as you know what is best for yourself and your unborn child. He is always making sure you feel secure and relaxed.

He is weak for cowgirl-style sex. He'd rest his hand on your belly and the other on your hip as he watches you descend on his cock. He still needs some dosage of pampering during your pregnancy!

There was one time he was dangerously close to fucking you silly, though. He came home, sweat dripping from his body after his usual training routine. The sight of you stepping out of the shower was the perfect ending to his day.

Maybe it was observing the water dripping off your nipples or the light that illuminated your pregnant belly that stirred something in him. Then, his predatory senses were aroused as you swiftly grabbed a small towel to (futilely) cover your curvaceous figure as you innocently greeted him.

With every ounce of strength he had, Sephiroth resisted the dark urges to pin you to the floor and make you his in that moment.

He was hands off during your second pregnancy, initially. While your beauty was still mesmerizing to him, the risk of hurting you is far too high. Pregnancy with triplets made you far too vulnerable to any whims.

His growing anxiety will cause him to slip into his distant and unapproachable moods more frequently. He needs his space, but you'll be ready to support when he reaches out. You’d affirm to him it's ok to be physically intimate.

While penetrative sex was off the table, tittyfucking and thighjobs are pretty common until you are too far along.

Sephiroth most definitely steals some bottles of your breast milk for himself.

With four wild kids in the house, you and Sephiroth struggled to find the desire and opportunity for physical intimacy in the next year and two. The few moments of alone time for you two are rare as well.

When the moods strike, however, you and Sephiroth typically wait until it's dead of night or the kids are out of the house before getting intimate.

One night, the sounds of your soft cries somehow awakened the triplet boys. They were so worried about you; they tore your door down, ready to throw down with whoever harmed their cherished mother...

...Thank goodness you and Sephiroth were covered by his vast, dark wing in that moment.

You could hear the faint chirping of crickets as you sat with your boys later that night, explaining the birds and the bees to them. Sephiroth was far too irked to assist, so you had to take one for the team.

At least your firstborn was still asleep. Even the loudest noises never seemed to wake her when she slept.

You and Sephiroth wrapped up the night by the fireplace, discussing the strongest materials for door construction.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Of all the things his partners could have chosen to fawn over, it had to be one of Billy’s biggest insecurities.

It had to be his stomach.

He’s learned to relax a little. To eat full meals and let himself have snacks without feeling guilty for consuming them. It’s still hard, but he’s trying to fight that little voice in the back of his head with common sense.

If he’s hungry, he should eat. A packet of crackers between meals isn’t going to kill him.

Steve said once that if he’s eating as much as he’s supposed to and he gains a little weight, that it was weight he was supposed to gain.

Now, he’s not chubby by any means, but he’s… getting there. The cut of his jawline isn’t as pronounced and his abs are gone. His ass has never looked better, he supposes, but that doesn’t seem to faze either of it partners.

Because they’re into weird shit, apparently.

That much could always be assumed of Eddie, but Steve? Steve was the surprise.

He’s the one who’s always checking to see whether or not Billy has eaten, always touching and kissing and never using the word stomach because apparently tummy sounds better to him.

It’s all very endearing. Makes Billy feel a little less shitty about himself.

Until Steve says some choice words during sex.

He has Billy pinned to the mattress, rolling his hips steadily, and spreading Billy’s legs as wide as they’ll get.

Eddie’s off somewhere, probably watching He-Man in the next room with his stiffy tucked into the waistband of his boxers because he can hear everything. Waiting patiently until he’s ready to come claim his sloppy seconds.

The blond’s skin is flushed from head to toe, and his breaths have been reduced to little pants and sighs that leave him in time with Steve’s thrusts.

He’s anticipating Eddie coming in any minute. Shuffling in beside Steve and filling Billy up even more — they’ve done it before, and he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head ever since.

Just thinking about watching his partners make out hot and heavy while they rail him has an ache settling into his core. Like he needs it.

Steve snaps his hips harder, eyes focused down at Billy through his lashes.

It’s perfect. Billy’s eyes well with tears, and just as his back begins to come away from the bed, Steve reaches out. Splays a hand against Billy’s stomach and presses, and his eyes may as well roll back into his skull.

“Taking such good care of yourself,” he sighs.

And Billy, nearly at his peak, furrows his brows. Confused. His body is still overcome with tremors not a second later. He groans and arches his back, painfully aware of how Steve’s hand stays put.

Steve buries himself deep after another few thrusts and comes hard. Has to stabilize himself with his hands on the mattress at Billy’s sides while he comes down from the high. For a moment, they breathe the same breath. Bask in the heat radiating from one another.

Then, Steve leans down. Kisses just below Billy’s ribs, and smooths his thumb back and forth over his skin right under his navel where he’s softest.

Now, he’s not really one for I love you’s but Billy’s pretty sure he’s damn close to saying it right now.

“Dirty talk took a weird turn,” he breathes.

Allows his body to relax against the mattress once again as he sweeps a hand through his sweat-slick hair. Steve hums amusedly against his skin, and Billy can feel the outline of his smile.

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Couldn’t help myself.”

He continues to lavish Billy’s stomach with attention. Wordless praise stamped into his flesh in the form of gentle, loving kisses and rubs.

It feels especially nice in the afterglow.

Maybe Billy’s into weird shit too.

Maybe this shit was never that weird in the first place.

“Aw, is Billy getting some tummy lovin’?” Eddie lilts.

He appears suddenly, jumping on the bed and causing the blond’s muscles to tense up from the surprise of it.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums.

A warm, damp washcloth smooths over his abdomen, courtesy of Eddie. He wipes up the evidence of Billy’s pleasure and leans down to press his lips to his forehead after.

“Good.” Eddie tosses the cloth aside, landing softly in the nest of dirty laundry that he’s conveniently left on the floor, and smooths his hands down Billy’s ribs from above. “Soft tummies need extra love.”

Billy’s face heats up. Especially when he feels Steve’s cock give a kick where it’s still buried inside him.

“You guys are so weird,” he huffs.

“We just love you, sweetheart,” Steve coos. Interlocks his fingers with Eddie’s over Billy’s sides. “And we love your tum—“

“If you say that word one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Steve snickers. Begins kissing around Billy’s navel softly, and it’s glaringly obvious that he’s starting to fill out again. Billy can fucking feel it.

Above him, Eddie sits up. Slides off the mattress gingerly and begins unfastening his belt as he rounds the bed.

“He’s right, you know,” he lilts.

Takes hold of one of Billy’s legs, just below his knee, and spreads him wider. The stretch has a groan leaving the blond’s lips.

Steve stands up straight, chewing his lip eagerly as he watches Eddie pull his cock out.

The two make eye contact briefly. Then they’re tilting into a kiss. The sight has Billy feeling a warm pool of electricity in his belly, especially when Eddie peaks at him out of the corner of his eye.

Like he can’t go a few seconds without looking at him.

A thumb gently swipes back and forth over Billy’s thigh, where he’s still being held, and he can’t help that his skin suddenly feels like it’s blistering with heat.

Maybe it’s not so bad that they picked a strange part of him to fawn over. It can’t be if it gets him in situations like this.

He just has to get used to his tummy being appreciated first.

[leslutdepointedulac]

Body Worship

Kinktober ~ Day 14: Body Worship

Now, Armand finds himself staring blankly into the roaring fire, contemplating whether or not he should go up and check on his love. After going back and forth with himself, he decides that a quick look in can’t hurt. It’s more to comfort himself than anything else, he just needs to know that Louis is here and that despite his mental state, he’s safe.

Armand rises from his seat and makes his way up the stairs and along to Louis’ room. As expected, the door is shut tight, still not even a hint of sound coming from inside. He fully anticipates going in to find the same thing he always does in this scenario: Louis curled up in his bed, the covers pulled over him as he lies silent, motionless, with his back to the door so that only his hair can be seen.

A deep sigh leaves Armand’s body as he hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked onto the door before he finally lifts his hand to gently knock on the door.

“Louis, it’s Armand.” He calls softly, despite knowing he likely won’t get a response. “I’ve just come to see that you’re alright, you haven’t come out to feed again tonight.”

As expected, he’s greeted only with complete silence. A thudding noise resounds in his ears as his heart beats heavily in his chest. He’s not sure why, this isn’t a situation that’s new to him, this has been done many, many times before. Maybe it’s the awful thought that something’s happened to Louis, that he’s done something incredibly stupid and Armand won’t be able to help him this time. He scares himself at the prospect of finding the extremely large and very heavy curtains pulled back, and the remnants of his lover in the bed.

Admittedly, this isn’t the first time Armand has conjured up such a horrific thought. The idea that this time, it would be him having to call Lestat to inform him through barely concealed tears what their love has done. Receiving that call was painful enough, he’s not sure what he’d do if it were the other way around.

After waiting for a few more moments while he collects himself, Armand finally works up the courage to open the door (which is never locked) and take a step into the room. He takes his time in letting himself in, wanting to give Louis the chance to hear him come in, as well as stalling for his own benefit.

As usual, Armand looks to the bed and feels a sense of panic spike in him when he realises Louis isn’t in his bed like he normally is. His gaze travels over the room until he startles himself with the sight of Louis standing directly opposite the door, in front of the full length mirror which sits in the corner, facing his reflection. Armand wonders how he hadn’t seen him upon entering the room, but concludes that his focus was on the bed alone, where he expected Louis to be, his eyes entirely passing over any other part of the room.

Something twists in Armand’s chest; it’s one thing to see Louis curled up sorrowfully in his bed, but there’s something about this that feels different. Maybe it’s because, despite being able to drag himself out of bed, he still seems just as depressed. Normally he won’t move at all on nights like this, and that should give Armand hope that perhaps tonight he isn’t at his worst.

[Little Comforts A03]

@vampirefest

[zennotixs]

Date night idea: I trace over your entire self and meticulously commit every piece of you to memory as I ramble about how beautiful you are. After that I cut you up to see how pretty you’d look in red.

[sunnysideprincess]

I wrote this as a part of another wip, but it didn't end up in the final draft coz I don't like how it flows, so I'm posting it here 🫴💫✨

His body is a map. Gruesome and distorted. Years of scars and pain and battles fought engraved onto his skin. A starbust on his chest. A needle on the back of his neck. There is one single strike of a blade. Swirls of universe across his right hand and face. He is a grotesque walking reminder of everything wrong with the universe. But he is also a lesson in survival.

Steve's body is a blank slate in that regard. A walking mirage of perfection. Age flutters soft kisses on his face. Tasteful wrinkles and strands of silver. His body unmarked, untouched by the hideous beast that has become his life. The wars and the grief caused hundred times over. Nothing shows. Nothing blossoms across his skin. Not the pain. Not the love. Not the yearning inside his chest.

Tony's body is a work of art. A story of never ending struggle and hope. Steve worships him in the quiet of their room. Praises his marks with softly whispered prayer. Pulls him into his embrace and pours his heart, molten and gold all over his skin—promises and poetry, plea and awe all meshes together to paint the map into his colors.

Outside, their world may keep destroying itself. Inside, Steve keeps his body warm. Gracing him with burning touches that were never not wanted.

It's their love. Their craft. Their time earned after every snarling hurt thrown their way.

And Steve hopes they get to keep this.

Forever and after.

[goldkirk]

.

[linkspussy]

Thinking abt (chubby) Zelda looking in the mirror one morning like.. : ( have I gained too much weight Link?.. and Link just AGRESSIVELY going full body worship. Like kissing her tummy and thighs and just signing that she's perfect over and over again. He loves her soft, sturdy form beyond words and he'll fist fight anyone who makes her think she's anything but beautiful

[soulaanadelrey]

Having CNC thoughts again

[extra-v1rgin]

Content warning for Internalized fatphobia on Suma’s end

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Despite both Hinatsuru’s and Makio’s attempts Suma won’t come out from her curled up shell. Her loud sobbing has stopped but the woman continues to sniffle and hiccup.

“Where is Tengen?” Makio hisses. When Suma fliches at the harsh language Makio softens and rubs her shoulders.

Hinatasuru sighs. “He’s still cleaning up dinner.”

As if on cue Tengen slides the door open. He frowns deeply at the sight of his wife crying under the covers. Without words exchanged he crawls onto the futon. A hand reaches out to wrap around Suma’s ankle. Impulsively she kicks but Uzui is far too strong and easily drags her into his arms. “What’s wrong my sweet girl?” He presses a few kisses onto her wet cheeks. Quickly he waves the other two women over. All at once they’re surrounding her, petting her hair and murmuring soft words of encouragement.

Finally Suma begins to speak. “I-I’m so, so-“ She can’t do anything besides stutter out the same few words over and over. Everyone waits patiently for her to finish speaking.

“I’m so fat!” As soon as she gets the words out Suma bursts out into tears once more.

Everyone else freezes. Makio nearly smiles but holds in the moment. “And? You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She manages to pry Suma’s hands away from her face. It’s puffy and red but as beautiful as ever.

“I’m fat and u-ugly, and- and none of my dresses fit me right.” The woman quickly tries to flee but Tengen holds her in his lap.

“You’re so beautiful baby.” Hinatsuru takes the lead and curls up against Suma’s backside. She runs her hands over her wife’s waist, poking her fingers into soft love-handles. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

They have to spend another few minutes coaxing her out once again. Eventually Suma relaxes into Tengen’s hold. Carefully he lies backwards, cradling the woman against his chest.

Makio leans in and starts to undo the sashes and buttons keeping Suma’s dress on. Surprisingly her wife offers no complaint. She sits patiently, watching the action through tear lined lashes.

“I love your cheeks,” Makio starts. She kisses there first. “And your cute little nose. I love your hair and your neck and-“ With each statement Makio presses a kiss to the named area. As she talks she continues to undress Suma. She passes the dress to Hinatsuru, who dutifully peels it off completely.

Makio stops at the woman’s tits. She immediately latches onto them. With her mouth occupied Hinatsuru takes over the compliments.

“You’ve got such a cute tummy. So comfortable.” She sighs and curls her head onto the spot. As Hinatsuru’s fingertips skim over the curves and rolls she feels Suma twitch, holding in a puff of laughter.

Her hand crosses down to Suma’s hips. The woman plays with the waistband of her wife’s underwear. “I love your thighs, when they’re so tight around my head.” Hinatsuru drags the panties off completely to reveal her prize. “And of course I love this.” She doesn’t tease, only scooping up wetness before her finger dives inside Suma’s cunt.

“G-guys I’m-“ Suma wiggles slightly before the soft touches get her to sink into Uzui. The man runs his fingers up and down her hips and waist.

“You look good like this.” Tengen’s voice is deep in her ear. His teeth tug at her earlobe. As soon as she moans loudly the woman is rewarded with a kiss.

Distracted by her husband Suma is surprised when another finger slips into her. The stimulation is almost too much until Makio unlatches for her tits. With her force directed at other areas Suma can appreciate Hinatsuru’s work. The two fingers scissor and spin but don’t quite stretch her in the right way. She has to slap Uzui away to explain.

With his face out of the way she can get a full view of her wives. Hinatsuru lies between her legs, head rested it on her thighs. Her deep purple eyes are soft as they stare right at her core.

Makio’s eyes are closed. Her faced is buried between Suma’s breasts as her tongue traces space between the two. Her wife’s hands dip into her love-handles. The gentle squeezing is almost ticklish. Tengen’s heavy breathing on her cheek even more so. She can’t help the giggle the bursts from her lips.

In unison everyone coos. The attention is overwhelming and Suma pulls Tengen in for another kiss. His white hair makes a wonderful curtain.

“F-faster,” She pants in between kisses. Hinatsuru is still stuck at two fingers. She twists and spreads them but keeps the pleasure at a steady plateau.

Torturously the woman refuses. “I’m just appreciating you baby. Don’t you like it?”

“Hmn- I, I do.” Suma wants to continue but Tengen sweeps her into another kiss.

“No begging baby, just let us take care of you.” His hands rise to squeeze her chest firmly. It startles a small yelp out of the woman. Afterwards he cradles her breasts in his hands, alleviating their heavy weight.

All the rubbing and soothing and warmth turns more comforting than erotic. Suma can still feel her orgasm buried deep down in her gut but it’s a faint root. The feelings of Hinatsuru’s fingers and Makio’s lips make her core throb every few seconds but they set her mind at ease.

She doesn’t want to sleep but the conditions are too perfect. With a strangled groan she tries to keep her eyes open, though it’s a loosing battle.

“You should rest.” Makio has nuzzled her way under Suma’s arm. While she speaks her wet breath fans over the woman’s neck. “We’ll still be here when you wake up. That’s when the real fun will happen anyways.” Her sultry words end with a quick bite. It’s not deep enough to startle Suma into full wakefulness but she jolts and whines. A sluggish hand raises to pat her wive’s cheek angrily.

“Don’t start that now.” Hinatauru is a bit muffled between her legs but the sternness still shows through. Suma nods weakly and lets her hand fall back onto the soft futon. Reminded of its comfort the woman decides to heed her spouse’s advice and let her eyes shut.