#without me sobbing over this man

[kiiseru]

Closer

[fumifooms]

Onis, cannibalism and the above-divine power of human conscience in Touge Oni

"It can only be referred to as the curse or by its ancient name, kidou (Way of the oni). It is the greatest, mightiest and most abominable power of all humankind. The source of the ??? selfish prosperity accomplished through the relentless reaping of the harvest that is the people. It [is] a be[???] formless concept but it is the foundation on which civilizations and t[he ???] kami are built. What must be done, I do not know. It will not suffice to merely kill and be rid of it, it must be taken." -Sansei Shounin Kozumi

Hello! Short opener because I want to get straight into it- Have you read Touge Oni? If you haven’t, stop right the fuck here and go read it!!!!!!!! Go read it go go go!!!!!!!!! With that said, I’ve been having this thought since vol 5~6 but I just did a full reread before going into reading volume 7 and I am only more confident now. Because of the nature of this analysis, word choices are very important, there is no official english translation currently and although I also read the manga in french, there is a high quality english translation by Penny Theater, thank you! The pages shown here are theirs.

There are 2 sections here to cover: what are onis and what is the power that be: what gives onis credence at all, what gives the oni curse power, what gives gods power. Going into these two things points us towards an answer to perhaps our current biggest question in the story— what the hell is the oni curse?

About Onis

So, first I think we have to acknowledge the real life counterparts to the beings and beliefs Touge Oni references. In our real world, En-no-Ozuna, or En-no-Gyoja, is a half-historical half-legendary person that is credited for the creation of Shugendō, a religion. With this knowledge there’s a lot of fun links that can be made with the story, like how its religious practice involves hiking through mountain ranges (Touge Oni: oni of the [mountain] pass). Or how, Zenki (Zen’s alias) and Goki (future-Miyo’s alias in the first chapters) in legends are (mountain) onis that En-no-Gyoja rallied to his side, they pledged to renounce their evil and follow him. Shugendō means "the path of training and testing", which is also very reminiscent of themes the story has been pointing towards. "Let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate".

Ehem, all this to say, shugendō is a religion that’s very syncretic, which means it combines ideas a lot of different religions and schools of thought, including buddhism, taoism (remember that En-no-Ozuna in the story is referred to as an unaffiliated daoist monk), ainu beliefs and shintoism. For the purpose of this analysis, (including my lack of finding shugendō ressources about onis) that means it doesn’t narrow down what interpretations of onis may be relevant. In Touge Oni, many beliefs and religions similarly coexist pretty much seamlessly, and it even references several ancient texts on deities and whatnot, and the "canon" on the details of onis is pretty much unheard of from my research. I’m not a religious or Japan expert by any means but I know just enough to affirm that this sort of mix and mash is accurate to the era, beliefs coexist in ways that are sometimes not cut and clean. For this analysis I went diving into the wikipedia for onis and let me tell you that was an example of this, buddhism, shintoism, folktales, without mentioning non-japanese cultural equivalents subtypes and influences— there are so many variations of onis through time.

All this to say…! We can’t rely on historical depictions of onis to solve this, there’s no cheat code, we have to analyze through what Touge Oni gives us for the answers we seek. Even Touge Oni tells us how onis can refer to different things, oni not only being used for man-eating monsters but also for ‘eccentric people’, those who don’t fit in, those who people want to villify and dehumanize. Nevertheless, from the humble amount of research I did, I found a couple of real life examples that can give us something to work with:

— Akiko Baba classifies onis into five categories: 1: Folklore onis, associated with ancient ancestral spirits, especially earth spirits. 2: Onis associated with religions held by people living in mountainous areas, like the yamabushi (who follow shugendō!!! Yamabushi meaning, those who lie down in the mountain). (Baba-san please tell me your sources I need to find any sources on Shugendō-specific onis… Are you just talking about Zenki and Goki?!!) 3: Onis linked to buddhism, like evil demons (jakki) and devil figures from outside cultures like yakshas and rakshasas. 4: Human onis, bandits or violent people who became onis as divine punishment. 5: Onis from transformation stories, where someone transforms into an oni because of intense resentment or anger, especialy in nō theater.

You’ll notice here that many of these have interesting implications for Touge Oni onis, especially the human oni category! But also how Zen notably succumbs to his violent rage against Shounin has some similar implications to the transformation oni, and of course there’s the yamabushi oni, which as far as my research went mostly means onis who can be "tamed". Onis eating humans isn’t a constant, but it’s a very common (and often central) aspect of their presence as a myth.

— Lafcadio Hearn in his book Shokunjinki ("the man-eating oni") says that "those who have been greedy of their living are supposed to become gakis (starving spirits)" before falling into the Gakidō (the kingdom of starving spirits) after their death.

So here it’s greed that corrupts. This will be more topical in the conclusion section of my analysis, but for now let’s just piece all of this together and remember that there is half nature and half nurture to onis in most myths that are relevant to us here, half earned and half innate. In versions like in Touge Oni where onis were humans before being changed, they started out the same as anybody but through immoral actions or negative emotions have transformed into literal monsters, either as divine punishment or just the innate corrupting nature of their acts or feelings. Cannibalism is most definitely an immoral action haha, with or without the concept of sin, so this slots neatly into that. So that’s the earned half— But once you become an oni, something has been innately changed within your being, even if your actions were your own as a human— and like in Touge Oni, it’s not unheard of than an oni would want to reform themselves, but still quite uncommon for them to be able to or invited to, En-no-Ozuno’s act like in the legend to extend a helping hand to onis, offering to direct their life towards good, and for the onis to accept and join him… This is a big act of faith in these onis, these people, in that they haven’t been warped enough that they can’t enact any free will for good anymore.

Okay! Lastly for the only irl-historical section of this analysis… The onis in the oni village call themselves ayo-no-oni, or in its full name Ayo-no-Sato-no-Oni. It’s a one-eyed, man-eating oni that’s the oldest verifiable depiction of an oni in japanese literature (Izumo-no-Kuni Fudoki). Thank you Penny Theater! Fun fact, one of the irl origins for onis is thought to be miners and such, so the onis here being metal workers who have injured eyes from their work is a fun detail.

Okay, that’s all the obligatory context out of the way… Now, onto the mystery of the Touge Oni.

Cannibalism is the sole thing known to turn people into onis. Only humans become onis, and the only way to do so is eat human flesh. Like mister monk here, I think the oni curse being divine punishment in a strict sense is unlikely — and was disproven in the manga. But even then it doesn’t feel like the oni curse truly has morality attached to it, it seems like just a… Phenomenon. Uninterested in the circumstances around those it afflicts and impartial in how and who it develops and hounds.

And well… As we see soon enough, the kamis have no power over onis’ state. Like En-no-Ozuno points out it’s very unexpected, the extent to which kamis, especially ookamis and especially Hitokotonushi, should be unlimited, but it seems that this curse of the onis’ even has power over the kamis, is above them, something almost higher than gods in the hierarchy of the laws of the universe, maybe an innate energy or power of the world, like life.

Incidentally, there’s something that humans have and nothing else does, which could explain why the curse only affects humans, a power that becomes central to the story… Something like mantra.

Additional info would be that in Touge Oni, an oni’s horns have a huge focus on them. They’re often referred to as if they are what holds the curse, maybe are the origin of it, where the seed of the curse is planted, like if the horns fall from your head then the curse will just leave you as well. They’re the only visible trait of an oni in most cases, the first and most iconic one at least, and En-no-Ozuno has designed a way to "block" them from appearing through putting a hoop on blood vessels, to which Shounin points out that you can also block their "murderous urge" and "madness" in the same way, perhaps in a process akin to blocking chi flow, a concept that exists in some forms of medicine like acupuncture. The exact mental effects of being an oni are unknown, it’s implied that being an oni comes with side-effects of violent urges and a short temper, but we see with the village of onis that that’s not exactly… Relevant, or noticeable? A lot of this more fragile mental state could logically be attributed to what would push you to commit cannibalism in the first place, famine and horrible conditions that put you in a survival of the fittest mode, trauma and extreme circumstances. So in the end, the finer points of what it means to be an oni in-world are left vague. Different degrees of transformation exist, so to speak. Future-Zen in the capital chapter grows to an enormous size. The appearance of horns onto someone eating human flesh is immediate.

About mantra

From the very start, Touge Oni places a lot of emphasis on the power of language.

Even every chapter ends with records of the sacred treasures being made/shown, religious writings and information archiving. The story references older stories for its own era, and also it very much has a meta dimension to it (that it spells out at the camera with its diegetic fourth wall breaking and timetravel shenanigans-), Touge Oni is a story from the old past of our real world reaching us readers through a book.

The manga ends up talking about philosophy a LOT, and strives to teach a way to think of life where you become aware of the gigantic infinite cosmic scale of the universe and without forgetting or undermining the meaning in a life, the joy to be had in the small things and deciding your own fate. These two aspects of the story, the importance of communication and philosophy, make the entrance of the concept of "mantra" (呪) fitting, smoothens it with coherence and intuition both.

Mantras are thoughts, concepts, wants and will all wrapped into one word. Mantra is your conscience. Mantra is soul. Mantra is kidou.

Kamis see things like bonds between people, Sadera’s zenmiyo shipping goggles etc, and similarly Ookuninushi says that Miyo has a nice mantra after meeting her and it’s… Well, it’s vague, we’re unsure what to make of it, in meaning and measure. Most direct and substantiated theory imo is that she has nice willpower and life philosophy, like when she talks to Susanoo and he takes an immediate liking to her because of her words about life and joy and how to find happiness even in cosmic insignificance. But still! Vague as hell, in good part due to just how wide of a concept mantra is, even just hard to wrap your head around it and visualize it fully.

In the end it’s a pretty abstract concept, so there’s still much to finetune about how it acts and the philosophy around it. For example, Hitokotonushi says this about the nature of wishes and mantras.

The nature of wishes and the nature of mantra… Perhaps she means how Zen understanda how a want affects the whole of the world, that everything is give and take and that when taking balance doesn’t stay the same. Something gained somewhere is something lost elsewhere, like in the ukei, gaining ground and ressources are things enemy man-grass cannot have, and all these things that Miyo taught them and did for them are things for which they in turn attributed to her, it generated thoughts and emotions and worship and mantra, Miyo gave and they gave back.

Mantras can be seen as the power to grant wishes… Interesting indeed. In this way, mantra, like worship points in the ukei, could rather be seen as an unlimited ressource that humans generate. Then, maybe it’s more that Zen wishing for Miyo’s feelings to be changed would be suppressing her mantra, rather than taking, disrupting the flow of this mysterious, powerful energy… Like disrupting chi.

But let’s step back! Kamis are made of mantra, "humans brought them forth through mantras and gave them forth". And THIS is why when a kami has less worshippers and gets less worship, less reverence and thoughts from people, they become smaller and weaker, enough that now most kamis can’t step outside their shrines, enough that some become microscopic when completely forgotten— Wait why are kanjis making up atoms and the fabric of the universe?

Let’s remember that when Miyo got smaller than microscopic, smaller than atoms, the essence of matter and time was writing characters. The kanjis here move, they seem alive almost. There is something divine about human language, human thought, in its essence. Many times we see how important consciousness and thoughts and will are important within the world of Touge Oni, how the concept of them exists and lives as a force. This is a kami talking abotu what resides in a black hole- death and nothingness yet everything that is.

Who knows how much mantra truly has power over! Fascinating. But see, while having people’s indifference as a kami is bad, having their hate is worse. Like Hitokotonushi states, humans’ terror for kamis have turned into a plague over kamis. Hitokotonushi is an impossibly powerful kami that is by that virtue terrifying, and perhaps more importantly is a easy target for anger- with infinite power to grant wishes yet only grants wishes from people who successfully climb her mountain, even granting harmful wishes. The jealousy, the frustration, the injustice— there are so many reasons why Hitokotonushi would become a target for negative emotions, so many reasons she would have to flee to the moon to be far enough from humans, in fear of their sole mind’s will’s power.

So humans, their worship, mantra, people’s thoughts and feelings and conceptualization of a kami, are what gives kamis their status and power, and also what takes it away. Even more than simply taking what they have away, what they have given in the first place, mantra can curse.

Let’s remember the description of kidou by Shounin that I opened this analysis with. "It can only be referred to as the curse or by its ancient name, kidou (Way of the oni). It is the greatest, mightiest and most abominable power of all humankind. The source of the ??? selfish prosperity accomplished through the relentless reaping of the harvest that is the people. It [is] a be[???] formless concept but it is the foundation on which civilizations and t[he ???] kami are built. What must be done, I do not know. It will not suffice to merely kill and be rid of it, it must be taken."

Kidou is mantra. The foundation on which civilizations and kamis are built. The mightiest power of humankind. The reaping of the harvest that is the people like harvesting worship points from man-grass. Shounin wants to save Hitokotonushi from her current affliction, something that can only be done by countering human mantra somehow, something kamis and even sennins, who seem to operate through a lack of mantra rather than under it like kamis, cannot do. It will not suffice to be rid of it, it must be taken, it must be given to the kamis to be self-sufficient, it must be presented to the divine. The oni curse is mantra.

Shounin’s goal is saving Hitokotonushi by removing mantra. Although I think remove might be the wrong word— I theorized that removing mantra from humans could save Hitokotonushi either through directly removing the bind of human mantra upon kamis, or stopping the mantra from changing- deteriorating with time with less worship or turning to anger disrespect and terror, BUT his presentation to the divine consists in giving mantra to kamis- presenting it to them, hence my saying just earlier that this could instead be giving them the power of mantra, rather than just removing it from existence entirely. Instead of telling a fire it no longer needs fuel to keep going, you give it the power to feed itself wood and gasoline endlessly.

And just now I spoke of sennins in a way living without mantra- let’s get into that.

The final step to becoming a seinin is to walk through a town wracked by famine and misery without stopping or lifting a single finger. To offer no help and remain focused on the task to get through it above everything. It’s about leaving empathy behind and putting yourself above the situation, it’s about growing indifferent, as though the suffering of others even around you is inconsequential and doesn’t concern you.

To become a sennin is to leave the scale of thinking of humans, it’s to have learned as a human to think like kamis and see humans as small and meaningless within the cosmic design of the universe. Or rather, a type of transcending humanity that grows cynical, almost resentfully so, where emotions are worth less than nothing and cold logic reigns. But to what design, to what goal? The pursuit of spiritual ascendance is motivating and tempting enough for most, but we do see that some of what we see in Shounin are character flaws specific to him. The sennin mother was kind enough. Shounin talks like no one should care about anything if they are enlightened, but everything he does is ironically out of love for Hitokotonushi-sama.

This incoherence can probably be explained by the "reintegration" Shounin regularly does. We can look at the sacred treasure record of saiukou. "Regular disintegration and reintegration are necessary to keep personality-mantra coherence. Remember your heart." Something Shounin does to brute-force not fully leaving his feelings behind and remembering his goals? I hit the 30 pics per post limit so lemme just stitch the rest of the relevant sacred treasure record puzzle pieces together whike I’m here…

To ascend is to leave mantra behind. Somehow, to wield mantra is to be above-divine, it is incompatible with godhood or ascendance yet it influences and all is bound by it. It is a power that as a sennin you give up, a sacrifice instead of a granted wish, mantra is like the power to grant wishes and ascendance in true ascetism fashion is to, like Zen, refuse to use it and take.

Mantra, the human-exclusive level of thought and philosophy and communication and ability to visualize and build and want. The power of desires. The thing through which one can ascend or curse.

To become a divine being is to leave humanity behind, to leave humanity behind is to leave empathy and compassion and emotions behind. These things are however what makes us different from gods, what gives us powers over them, what makes life as insignificant man-grass worthy.

What is the oni curse?

Kidou, the curse of the oni, as per Shounin’s explanation what civilizations and kamis are built on, what he seeks to take to unchain kamis. Kidou is mantra.

Okay so… The curse of the oni is mantra, but how? What does that even mean?

Well, we’ve learned that most things are ruled by mantra, aka human will and imagination. Becoming a sennin has to do with transcending your own, mantras are what empower and disempower gods. The oni, too, in text, is said to be directly tied to the power of mantra, it is what shuts kamis’ mouths. But sennins, unlike kamis, are not created by human’s mantra, sennins do not rely on humans’ worship (mantra) for their powers and so their mouths aren’t shut, they are outside of mantras’ reach.

To remove an oni’s horns, their curse, by Hitokotonushi’s words is to rob them of their soul. To remove their oni curse is to remove the oni’s mantra. Which means the curse of the oni has tainted their mantra. The… mantra of the curse has tainted and fused with the person’s own mantra, the mantra involved in eating another human being has changed their own mantra innately forever until death. There’s a couple of different ways in which this could happen or for what reason, more precisely.

Human thoughts aka mantra, are what gives gods their forms, we are taught explicitly during the ukei that humans’ conceptualization of a kami dictates their appearance, wether they become a dragon or some other figure. Human mantra also has the power to curse gods- terror for a god becomes a plague that saps at their life and power.

A narrative then becomes clear, does it not? A koi that eats a koi remains a koi, a bear that eats human flesh does not become afflicted by an oni-like curse, the curse is human-bound. If it is the form-altering power of mantra that could curse onis into being, then… Human cannibalism is abhorred and demonized more than perhaps anything else, on a very innate and visceral level.

So by my favored theory, humans becoming monsters after doing cannibalism is that the intense judgement people who commit cannibalism face, this thought that immediately such an act makes them no longer human, takes form and manifests as a mantra that makes it true physically and spiritually— they not only become monsters but their very being is tainted, and since the stereotype of the average cannibal is a heartless emotionless bloodthirsty beast, that’s what onis are forced to become like on an intrinsic level. It is a more or less common myth worldwide, even just often a non-spiritual belief, that committing cannibalism saps at your humanity and turns you into something monstrous, like for example with the wendigo. Like we said earlier, onis are creatures of myth, and the biggest constant is that they are man-eating monsters. Mythical beings are somewhat like kamis, and since kamis can be of disaster or misfortune etc they can be believed in while still being negative in nature, so what’s to say committing an act that intrinsically changes so much about your spiritual state and your reputation in society, fitting the requirements for being an oni, turn you into one? A curse, placed on humans by humans, mantra, thought given form. It is no divine judge,ent, this is not Buddha’s doing, wether or not people can be "redempted" or wether they "deserve" it doesn’t matter, just the intense ostracization and dehumanization that the act inflicts upon you. Now anyone can see at a glance that you’ve committed such an heinous act, and the fear of onis continues on, as many are exiled ir isolated and encouraged to keep eating humans.

To commit cannibalism is to abandon your humanity. AbsoluteColor has an interesting theory centered on this. In their words, becoming an Oni might be something along the lines of transcendence, incomplete as it might be. In the Gabi trial, the aspiring sennin should shed his own emotions and go through a land devastated by war or famine without doing anything, and in a way the Oni who used other humans to feed himself had to shed his emotions, although they did so to gain something for themselves (food), making it a "stunted" transcendence...

My other theory is that since humans possess mantras, eating one breaks something/ fundamentally changes something in your being, either your spirit or body, because mantras are a power that can’t be consumed. So trying to consume it instead deflects it, channeling it in a way, and in this way becoming corrupted because something went wrong. But if it’s unrelated to the taboo as in theory 1 then it’d be weird that animals eating humans don’t become cursed- but the trouble could be that it’s a human eating mantra specifically, again that theme of a human’s special sentience being specially affected by things. Like, an animal doesn’t have the capacity to hold mantras so it slides off their back no trouble, but instead a human eating mantras is like trying to absorb or process it but it causes swelling past the bursting point. After all the process of becoming a god or something divine/above-human is a big topic, and we see how it changes someone and the strain that comes with it, the sacrifices, since by becoming a sennin you shed human emotions. In this reading human sentience itself is transcendant essentually, (and thus deeply affects the world,). Becoming a oni is to be chained by mantra, but the why exactly is up in the air, here it’s that eating another’s as a human, creature that generates mantra rather than being made of it like kamis and absorbing it within yourself messes you up, maybe because by digesting mantra you become made of mantra in some way, maybe the horns are pure mantra, part of them now. The other thing that makes this less likely is that the taboo theory offers some explanation as to why gods would be forbidden to speak about it despite knowing the details of it— it’s something so vile you cannot even speak of its origins, something sow oven into the laws of mantra and the universe that undoing it is unthinkable to even amatsus.

It could be a fusion of these. By consuming mantra you ascend to godhood in a way, and that is what allows one to become affected by mantra. Become bound by it. I’ve also entertained the idea that maybe it is their own mantra affecting their appearance, self-loathing and self-doubt and low self-esteem, your own consideration for your own humanity, after eating human flesh, that you no longer feel human or think you are monstrous. But it has low chances, because that can’t possibly be a phenomenon that always occurs impartially then, not everyone would think of themselves that way, especially with how out of it famine can make someone. This could be not unsimilar to this presentation of the divine deal, where you give the power of having mantra to a being only affected by mantra, onkt the other way around, where a being that generates mantra is now also commandeered by it, an essentialist tool of fate and the universe or something.

So,

to recap!

In my opinion either the oni mantra is strong because the taboo of it is strong, or because mantras are a tangible specially-corruptive thing when consumed.

Since the oni curse is mantra, removing it would have to be done through countering the mantra in some way, perhaps with a stronger positive one about how onis are humans like the rest of us or they can choose their own fate etc etc, or like what Shounin seeks to do to save Hitokotonushi from her curse, through removing mantra entirely.

The koi eats koi thing that the monk brought up is super interesting, any time a manga or japanese media touches on cannibalism it’s go-to example/case study to bring up, I regularly see it referenced even when I pick up a random manga. Asura by George Akiyama from 1970 is just one example. It seems koi eating koi is vey present in japanese consciousness… Which yeah is interesting— Kois are one popularized example but anytime we hear about animal species committing cannibalism we’re shocked by it, so it’s interesting how likely due to japanese exposure to kois it’s what sometimes haunts their stories. This sort of thing is visceral it feels like an innate wrong, so for talking about morality and nature and the innate status of things, yet the concept of higher sentience and how virtues are what makes humans special— it feels very emblematic and topical in many ways, and a very uniquely charged one.

I’m thinking that if they were to through with the Presentation of the Divine and the world became mantra-less Zen’s horns would fall. Which would be an interesting conflict because then Zen would have to consider "ok nice but is it worth trading for human sentience…", which ties back to the theme of wishes… Since human sentience is explicitly connected to mantras I feel like that supports the link I’m making here right, and how human emotions are something not below but rather above and inaccessible to the divine. Gods channel the power from their will through literal god powers that shape the world meanwhile humans can only channel their will through their actions, maybe it’s an inherent shift there that changes everything.

If onis have a strong mantra, and the kami, which are made of mantras, can’t undo the mantra of onis… Then perhaps, the same way that humans gave and take power of the kamis through mantras, humans are what made onis such a strong curse. Perhaps for the horns to fall, the devil’s mark as Ozuno said so fiercely once, the horns that are the mark of the oni, that give them their bloodlust and madness, then all it takes is for humans at large to stop fearing onis so— or rather, stop seeing cannibalism as an irredeemable act that strips your humanity from you forevermore. The power of thoughts is at the core of the story, and the intrigue with Shounin is baiting people to wonder, would it be so bad if that was taken away? Ozuno is tempted to go through with the Presentation to the supreme because it would cure his beloved, and if that were to cure Zen as well… Either from humans no longer being able to make mantras, or kamis becoming more powerful than the onis’ mantra, then that could be one more point of contention. I doubt Zen will be tempted, though, as someone who himself experienced it— survival at its rawest, mindless form. Hitokotonushi said it herself, that he understood the nature of wishes and thus mantras, with how he refused his second most important wish. Miyo herself is stated by people around her to have a fine mantra, a fine will and way to think, so I think that’s why our trio is the stuff of fate, the heroes of this tale. They have a bond so strong that the gods recognize it, and it’ll be because they’ll reach erudite knowledge on mantras and life without sacrificing their compassion or the perspective of a lowly human, baby!! Through shugendō, the path of training and testing, of trial and error and will to keep going!

Touge Oni is a lot about choice and willpower, carving your own path, the desires and ideologies and willpower and sentience of humans, how humans are both small vulnerable and insignificant on the scale of the cosmos and yet how such small beings can have so much impact and influence on the the world and their own fate— let us, then, be up and doing, with a heart for any fate. Miyo has changed the destiny the world thrusted upon her, herself bending time to change her own fate, Zen is determined to break his curse that’s stronger than gods and is already defying what should be dictating his life and behavior by acting upright and travelling with humans— humans are not divine but damn…… There’s something to us, isn’t there.

[raven--stag]

Withers is the dad that stepped up.

[chronosbled]

{ NOT BINX (@angelatelier) FEEDING ME YET ANOTHER FACE CLAIM AND CALLING ME OUT ON MY TASTES. THIS IS A CRIMINAL OFFENSE, SIR! }

[whatthefuckisasweep]

ryan and dave were rabble rousin’ .. . Teenage cousins…. the difference is dave has an off switch…. And ryan doesnt!!!!

[earthandsunandmoon]

The Tragically Hip performing "Grace, Too" and "Nautical Disaster" on Saturday Night Live, 1995

[atlxolotl]

Transcript and links to Reddit under the Read more:

I miss my husband so goddamn much

February 27th, 2025

I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest.

I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another.

They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left.

I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?

I hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise.

EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative.

Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month.

Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach.

EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened.

[UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago

March 2nd, 2025

Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression.

I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to.

We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years.

What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*.

I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted.

He was dating someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious.

We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed.

I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though.

I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me.

Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3

EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update.

EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not, reddit.

[FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night

March 5th, 2025

My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered.

A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore.

He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God.

He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal.

At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted.

I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine.

Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes.

[roys-our-boy]

I MADE IT TO LAW IN THE ANIME IM CRYING FINALLY IM GOING INSANE

[tonycries]

OL-F*CK-TORY ETHICS?!

Synopsis. Pheromone perfume? Should’ve thought about the olfactory ethics of driving him absolutely wiId with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pheromone perfume (they’re affected), they go FÉRAL, slight aphrodísiacs, creampíes, dúmbification, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, overstím, really néedy boys, GOJO’S POWERS, full neIsons, making Geto whímper, handcúffs (Geto), rough s, p sIapping, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Yes, I think I’m a comedian for that title.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BREAK HIM!

“P-please-” 

“Hm?”

“Please, doll…”

And it’s the first time in your life that you’ve heard Toji Fushiguro beg - the first ever time in his life that he has. Low, rasping over the deafening snap! of the poor headboard splitting in half, “Mercy- m’begging ya. Mercy.”

It’s hard to think that just a few hours ago, he was trying not to snicker with smugness - pheromone perfume. Really? As if anything in that shiny, half-off bottle could make him lose his composure. 

“Such a silly girl–” Toji had rolled his sage eyes down at you. Tutting at the way you were impatiently sprawled over his lap, waiting for his word. Leisurely, he’d leaned in– well whatever his lady wants. “Told ya already, this stuff isn’t gonna m-make me-”

Oh.

And that was hours ago. Hours. 

But here Toji was bullying his furiously sweat-slicked face into the heady crook of your neck - taking only one singular whiff before he flinches. Hips rutting mindlessly into yours with a smack! “O-oh, we’re not making it hngh! outta this alive, ma.”

It was the fourth time in the past few minutes that he’s babbling those very words into your perspired skin. The fourth time. 

He was broken.

Managing out only a few throaty whimpers when you’re shuffling onto your elbows, all you have to do is give one fluttering squeeze of your gummy walls before something hits your arched spine with a wet splat!

Multiple. Tears. 

“F-fuuuuck–” He’s hissing, sexy baritone thickened with clingy sobs. And the only thing sloppier than Toji’s unsteady tone, was his cock. Ruthless. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–”

“Need a lil’ h-help, baby?” You find yourself purring, head tilting ever-so-slightly over your shoulder to bare Toji with even more of your scented throat. Clouded wafts of it puffing over to his darkened features and making him gasp– “Because-”

In only a split-second, you’re not even sure what you were about to say - what happened other than Toji shoving you face-first into the cushy pillow in nanoseconds. 

Staggering strength leaving the bulging biceps on his big, beefy arms flex, and you keening away into your soft landing. Boneless legs stumbling onto the bed once he tilts his bodyweight onto yours and makes you stumble, “T-Tooji—!”

Oh, the sound of his name in your honeyed tone makes Toji’s hulking voice break out in shivers. 

“S-s’it turn you on ta see me like this?” Punctured with solid, pounding plaps! of his bloated tip against your springy cervix, such a staggering size that tenderized every sliver inside your heated cunt without even trying. His massive arms tremble, “To see me a-all pathetic and ngh- weak?”

Weak. 

But the way he was pinning you down onto the creaking bedcoils and slamming jagged bruises onto your mounds of flesh from behind was anything but.

“M-maybe?” Oh, he definitely was fucking you stupid - because you find yourself giggling. Globs of slippery drool overspilling from your slack maw and drenching the puffy pillow underneath you. So wet n’ utterly filthy that it makes your thighs squeeze, “You’re s-so cute, Toji.”

“Don’t- don’t you fuckin’–” Immediately leaving one spank on your puffed-up clit. Two. Three, just for good measure- shit, Toji really can’t help but bring those sappy, glazed-over fingerpads to his mouth and sucking. 

And the sugary sweet taste makes the man moan. 

“Fuck- fuck, did that p-perfume make her taste even sweeter or what?” 

Before you know it, Toji’s hard, Herculean front is sagging downwards into yours - hunching over, collapsing. He can barely keep his eyelids held open, let alone his glissading body. 

Sinking you ever-deeper into the plush mattress, you swear you could count each and every rock-hard ab pressing into you. The curvy massage of Toji’s pecs rendering your mouth to let off a soft mewl.

And he’s rough above you. Still fucking you in a way that makes your sturdy bed splinter. Dark tufts from Toji’s happy trail scratching the very tip-top of your papping ass with every merciless whack.

“Gonna tell ya a s-secret-” He spills in breathy puffs against your ear, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose against where your perfume was the most potent. Drinking you in. Gasping. “-b-better not tell ngh- anyone- got it, ma?”

And you almost get the urge to tilt your head back and confirm that this was really your Toji.

Because not only were his choked-up words making you dizzy, so was the way that he sounded right about not. Voice numerous octaves higher, cracking. 

You’d have half the mind to tease him about it if the entirety of your fuzzy head wasn’t completely overtaken by simply the thought of Toij Toji Toji-

“Oi- oi!” Three harshly repeated smacks to the side of your cheek wrench you from your little daydream, until you’re being manhandled with a few fingers around your throat to gaze up at the man himself. Growling, “N-no zonin’ out on me just yet- gotta tell ya h-how much it turns me on, too…”

Oh? Oh.

And as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Can’t slow down the prattling words spat into your mouth - all teeth and something lecherous. 

You’re squealing once one of his splayed-out palms rover to the bumpy outline of him fucking a tummy bulge into you. 

Skimming across until he could practically feel the rapid ba-dump–! ba-dump–! ba-dump–! being crashed into all your magical spots, “L-look at you taking it allll. Look how hard I am- feel how hngh- fucking hard–” 

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for you to know. For you to feel.

Another heavy gulp of the thick air surrounding you two - of that familiar candied smell - and he’s like an animal. Swollen cock stretching your goopy walls until they were wiiidely agape, throbbing a few solid centimeters wider in circumference. 

“How fucking big. Yeah? Hngh- t-takin’ it all like a big girl, aren’t ya?” 

Getting harder just from the perfume. From you. 

One hand desperately claws at his own bustling bulge, the other smearing over your overstuffed pussy.

“O-oh, god-” Your eyes sprint needily to the back of your head, head pushing into the soaked pillows. Toji’s ministrations were heavenly, rubbing quick, jerky heart all over your sugar-coated clit. Faster. “K-keep doing that n’ m’gonna c-cum.”

“M’only getting harder. Needier- fuck, I need you-” Swirling his fat thumb in circles right on time with his globular tip, “My big girl- w-with her ngh- big perfumes. Fuck-” You don’t think Toji even registers when he plants a delicate peck where your scent was the strongest. Moaning. Before pressing two more, three, four- “Don’t want- Need you to c-cum f’me. Need to feel that ngh- pretty pussy cum ‘round my big fuckin’ cock.”

You’re raking your nails down his toned forearms, “Close. C-close.”

“Fucking cum.”

And when you so, your silken soft walls are squeezing Toji’s veiny shaft so tight that it takes him everything in him to fuck you through each white-hot peak. Dragging you across your starry high and then some-

Wiping away a trickling spray of his own drool, Toji feels himself laugh - low and humorless. You’ve found his weakness.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. CEO

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. The perfect sweetheart.

But that was the complete opposite of the way that said Nanami Kento currently had you shoved face-down into his cool mahogany office desk, your delirious tears spilling over in rippling puddles over the expensive wood while he fucked you like he hated you.

“Fuck-” he’s spitting into your open maw, fingers loosening his overpriced tie. Your popped ears ring with a sharp riiiip–! once he tugs your tight satin skirt even higher, rough. “Fuck- not again, darling.”

Before you can even think of gurgling out any coherent syllables, his ragged palm comes striking down on the surface mere inches away from your face with a deafening SLAM!

Meaty thighs rippling with copious shivers from right behind you - Nanami was letting himself heave, he was letting his muscular body pin you down. Sliding the ladder-like ridges of his abs down your arched back.

“Shit. Shit shit shit- not again. M’not supposed ta-” Cutting himself off - gasping - and it’s a sheer miracle that he can even manage to wrench out those growling words at this point. Breath puncturing with a low ah! ah! ah! after every hit of his toned hips against your ass. “I don’t…don’t know why-”

Almost…feral.

You’re both letting your heads drop down at a drunken pace to catch the splat! of those first few ribbons of cum being slipped past your folds. 

Every bludgeoning inch of Nanami’s coral pink crownhead plugs your leaky hole full. He’s fucking in those dewdrops of seed to maze across your gummy walls, leaving sweltering hot geysers pooling on your cervix.

So hot. 

And in the corner of your eye, you’re catching him reel those powerful hips back until only the very tip of his swollen cock was softly pecking your entrance. “Can’t- can’t stop cumming- fuck!”

“Wh-what?” You’re not sure if you heard him right.

“Can’t stop, m’sorry–” He draws a slow five circles around your quivering hole with the very edge. A glossy white lip gloss that cakes over your pussy folds like icing. “Won’t stop cumming. Haaah- your cute cunt…s’drivin’ me mad.”

You feel Nanami’s round-ended thumb plug up the weeping orifice right in the middle of his cockhead, trying- failing to stop his trickling rivulets of creamy seed. Before letting out a pained huff and filling you once more to the very brim–

It was so much. Too much. And it just pained him to not be all sunken inside your hot, pretty pussy.

You whimper at the taut stretch, stumbling onto your unsteady elbows to peek at your husband. “I-is everything alright, Ken?”

Desperate.

You haven’t seen Nanami look this gone - eyes so hooded they were almost shuttered closed, mouth forever parted in awe, cheeks burning with a bright red blush - since the first time he ever fucked you.

So warm and dizzy. 

Your fluttery walls squeeze involuntarily around his puffed-up veins, as if you’re trying to memorize every jagged pattern. Heart racing once leans in with a vulgarly handsome snarl-

“Still here.” He gruffs out a throaty murmur into your rapidly beating pulse, teeth nipping dangerously over the drumming staccato as if to warn look what I can do, my love. And the expression plastered all over his face is nothing if not crazed, “Still there.”

Fuck, that same mantra over n’ over again.

“Wh-what do you mean, Ken?” It takes everything in you to voice out, even the leaking cum that Nanami scoops up dutifully doesn’t compare to just how much wetter your cunt gets at the hoarse baritone of his voice. He was so effortlessly sexy.

“It’s- it’s still there, darling.” And you’ve never heard your stoic husband sound so…ruined. Like he was on the verge of crying - or damn near breaking you in half. Or both.

And how could Nanami Kento have become the boss if he didn’t multitask?  

He was still pounding long, rummaging inches into you after every syllable spoken - hitting the bruised and battered target of your g-spot with a sickly sweet ba-dump! every single time. Not even slowing down to let himself catch his breath after his previous orgasm.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because even though Nanami’s molten eyes were stinging with tears from the utter sensitivity, even though he could feel his hefty balls flinch tenderly every time they thwacked against the front of your cunt - he still found something dark and deep inside of him begging for more more more. 

Body moving before he could even control.

In only nanoseconds, Nanami interlaces a clawed grip around your throat to haul you up like some glamorized doll. Eyes widening, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and gasps.

“Th-this-” And Nanami Kento never stutters, he never lets his statuesque facade crack with the beginnings of something that almost looks shy. Your stomach twists at the way his cerise lower lip wobbles adorably, “-what is this, my love?”

“Hmm–? Oh.” And then it finally hits you. “A n-new perfume?”

Although it looks like it wasn’t just a perfume. Fuck, you should’ve looked at the packaging a little closer. 

But Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a word. Does nothing but let his lungs drag in a generous heaval of your scent.

And it’s enough to send his needy cock crashing into the very bottom of your sloppy pussy. Your hands scramble for anything - and land on the golden name plate emblazoned with CEO NANAMI while he draws up a looong wet glide. Prying apart the papping mounds of your ass to rut into you impossibly deeper. 

Nanami’s vision clouds and he’s not sure if it’s from the force of the countless orgasms or simply you. His gorgeous wife. 

Wait- wife?

Before he knows it - before he can stop himself - he’s babbling away, “Marry me- marry me, my love.”

“But…” You’re reaching over to tangle your fingertips through his dishevelled strands of gold with a smile. Thumbing away that perspired furrow in his brow, “We’re already hah! married, Kento.”

Oh?

And Nanami Kento trusts you above him. Which is why he finds his eyes rovering down to steal a glance at your pretty ring finger and- oh. You were right. 

“Mhm— tha’s me, Kento. Your husband.” He’s breathing out, one hand tracing over the staggeringly large rock homed prettily on your wedding ring. 

And the other- the other was letting his fat fingerpads swipe down your buttery slit, topping itself with sweltering hot ounces of cum. Before promptly pushing past your wobbly lips, “Now suck ‘nless you want the whole office to hear about your ph-pheromone perfume.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - T-take it, dammit-

“You- you bitch.” Geto Suguru looked so pretty like this - amethyst eyes fighting to stay open in anger and need, curtaining inky hair splayed out like a halo underneath him. Each growling snarl of his only growing raspier by the minute, “Fucking knew this would h-happen, didn’t you?”

Did you just hear the oh-so-suave Geto Suguru stutter?

And it’s just about all you can do to keep yourself from snickering, hands planting precariously onto the delicious curve of his deltoids. The bulging flex of his toned muscles makes your mouth water, “Oh? I don’t know what you mean, Sugu—”

Geto’s rolling his eyes - but his hips were speaking a completely different language. Rolling up off of the sticky hold of the bedsheets to give your g-spot a good, lengthy skim of his ruby-red tip.

He’s tugging one shackled wrist, “S’that why ya have me in this, gorgeous?” 

Ah, and how could you forget your favorite part about tonight? 

Those fuzzy pink handcuffs that you’d goaded your dear boyfriend into wearing, all smug smiles and chuckles until you’d leaned down to give him an innocent peck. And then let him smell-

“Sh-shit. Look what you’ve done t’me.” He’s hissing into your loosened mouth, snatching your pouted lips into such a bruising, bruising kiss. Sharpened canines digging into your bottom lip, he practically gulps in the breaths of your special perfume. “You and th-this heavenly pussy and that- godforsaken pheromone perfume.”

You were making a fool out of him - all with a “special perfume” that he’d bought for you at your pleas. Idiot, he didn’t even read the box before gifting it to you.

Geto throws his head back with a drawling grunt when the only reply he gets is your pretty smile. “Fuck- fuck!”

Voice pitching up in volume higher and higher- and he was sure he looked crazed right about now. Hips rutting cleanly off of the mattress to spearhead you with so many copious inches. More. 

It was already hard enough keeping himself smooth n’ composed every time he usually sunk past your velvety walls - you drove him wild without even trying. But now? 

Now this stupid “perfume” of yours was here to do the very same thing, only tenfold because it was his beautiful girl wearing it.

Oh.

Geto thanks he can feel himself going wild.

The extra heavy-duty handcuffs sing out a metallic creak–! once he tugs particularly harshly, trembling fingertips aching to feel every inch of your glissading body. You were riding him at such a maddening tempo. Your hips hitting the very back of his generously curved balls, before gyrating your puffy clit down in a slooow grind up his toned abdomen — but he wanted more.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when Geto was like this.

“When- when I break out of these oh!” With every empty threat puffed out into the heady air, Geto finds his achingly hard cock weeping even more thick rivulets of pre. Lungs filling up with hypnotic volumes and volumes of that scent. He can feel himself fucking tearing up, “F-fuck you.”

He was so sexy like this. 

Trying oh-so-desperately to pretend that those collisions into your gooey depths didn’t have his toes curling, heavy lids falling shut to hide away just how fast Geto’s eyes were sliding to the very back of his head.

You’re arching a brow, “Oh? What was that?”

Lips sleazing backwards into a pussydrunken grin, you had the inkling that Geto didn’t even realize what he was babbling away at this point. He couldn’t even think. “I-I said fuck-” 

Mouth still moving. Soundless.

And all it takes is a mere touch of your sensory fingertips caressing his sweat-lathered temple to render Geto speechless.

“W-wait—” He breathes out, and he sounds hysterical right now. Venomous tone lilting countless octaves higher and wobbling as if he was about to break. His chest caves in with a low please–! once you’re streaking your digits through his silky hair, shivering as if being shocked with a thousand voltages. Pulling. “Not fair. Not fair not- fuck tha’s not fair t’me, gorgeous.”

You already knew that the pheromone perfume had some…aphrodisiacal effects. But it seemed that Geto was extra sensitive to it. Cute. 

“Yes, and?” Just for good measure - oh, you were thoroughly enjoying this - you’re trekking your stray fingertips to latch onto the gleaming curve of his throat. Bringing your scented neck even closer-

“Oh.” Geto’s snarky mouth now floods with a silvery plash of scorching hot saliva, fucked out of him after every resounding slam! of your hips down on his. You watch as his weightily lidded eyes glaze over with a film of something murky.

Continuing to wrench needily at his restraints. Desperately. It was like a second nature for Geto to touch you and right now he was ruined. You can’t help but ogle the rounded flex of his biceps-

“Gonna- fuck.” He whimpers - whimpers - out, nose crinkling. It made you much too drenched when he leans in mindlessly to rub the buttony tip of it against yours in a lazy kiss. Maw slacking every time you pumped his achily swollen cock across your most tender spots, the orifice of your hole massaging his reactive shaft so greedily. “M’close…”

Whispering, right now, as if it was the most dear confession. 

Because Geto Suguru never came before he’d made you reach your orgasm at least five times over.

But right now he was teetering right over the very high edge of it, so close. His thick, sculpted thighs push up from behind your motioning body to urge your bounces vulgarly faster, skin-to-skin. 

“C-close.” And it sounded almost pained if you didn’t feel the way it was accompanied by a hastily slipped spasm of Geto’s ballooned-up crownhead against your cervix. Too close. His beautiful head lolls backwards against the tear-streaked pillows, “M’gonna- m’gonna-”

Before snapping up furiously again when your merciless pace stops.

And all you can get out is a not-so-innocent, “Whoops.”

All you can get out - because it takes Geto exactly two split-seconds to snap! those useless pink handcuffs off of him and flip the two of you over to tower over you in all his glory. Speckles of frustrated sweat slithering between his bulging pecs and down onto your heaving body.

He’d let you have your fun, already.

Geto moves slow. Calculated. 

Leisurely meandering his face all over your thrumming throat, your tits, everywhere and anywhere that godforsaken pheromone perfume was calling to him. Taking in looong languid breaths of it - and each time he did, he’s fucking up into you like he didn’t even realize. 

Pounding you into the drenched silken sheets with all girthy inches of his circumference, branding it into your slippery womb like he didn’t want you to forget. 

You’re hit with the sudden remembrance that there was a reason you had to tie Geto up. 

And that is when you catch his gaze - wide, unfocused. Feral. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

So very fucked. 

“So.” Geto shatters your anticipatory realization with a throaty few syllables, hoarse like he wasn’t even ready for himself to speak at that point. Without a single warning, he spits - right in your mouth once. Then twice onto two slender fingers, before giving your cunt a stinging spank. “Ya gonna beg for mercy now or later, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.

God, if this was any other time then maybe Choso would’ve felt embarrassed about the way he was letting his clammy palms cling onto your waist like he never wanted you to let go. 

Because he didn’t. Would never. 

Huffing and puffing out clouded puffs of air into the sticky valley of your chest, he’s just so drunk on you. Can feel himself veering lazily into the pillow, drenching it with gumdrops of thick saliva. It takes everything in him to lift his head and puff in smoky breaths of your pheromones.  

And it makes him burn. So hot rutting up into you, skin-on-skin. 

Probing veins scouring your every nook and cranny, ruthless shaft the complete opposite of just how delicately he was boring down at you. Choso was nudging his ballooned-up cock past your puffy hole like he was making you melt around him.

Making you break - just as much as he was right now. 

And the only thing hotter is the way the slithering muscle of Choso’s pierced tongue lolls outwards to skim the buttery splotches of cum scattered across your tits from before. Shiny Prince Albert’s cooling you hardened nipples.

Eyes reeling to the very hidden backs of his hooded lids, he’s moaning at the salted caramel taste of himself. “S-so hot. So soft inside, m’ l-losing my mind.”

You’re just soaked skin-deep with him. 

And you’re blaming it all on that strange perfume - a pheromone perfume - that that assistant had dabbed on you at the store. You’d forgotten just how…sensitive curses can be to smells. 

How feral.

Finding your heart racing at the way he was narrating off every single thing, every single twitch inside you that slid across your gluey magical spots. “S’that so, Cho?”

Usually, Choso would nod away deliriously to your every word. Usually, he would prattle on sweet, sweet simperings of his very own.

But right now, you watch in slight awe as the pale skin of his pretty cheekbones scorch over with a brightly blossoming blush. The heat of it so feverishly hot that you can almost feel it, and Choso bucks his hips wildly into you with a low keen at the back of his throat.

“D-don’t call me that.” He’s straining out through a shiver. Lower lip fussed until it was a pouted cherry pink. You swear the moment Choso leans closer you see his long mahogany lashes glisten with tears. His big, beefy arms finding their way around your body, “S’gonna…gonna make me cum. Gonna- fuck!”

As if to prove his point, the perked hill of his fattened cockhead splits with glossy white swabs of pre. Buttering up your deepest insides and promising more. 

You’re tugging him in ever-closer, the look in your glassy eyes so loving that he feels his length pump greedy ounces more and swell. Growing girthier - pushing your glutinous walls further n’ further apart just from the way you’re staring at him. 

How he loved you.

You hum, “But I want you to, Cho. No need to be shy.”

Something in him breaks. And just the thought of it is enough to make the special grade in front of you drool.

Slick rivers of spittle streaming from between his jaw, unhinging when he inches in to gift your surprised tongue with a weighty splat! of webbed spit. He breathes out past the breathless bubble, “No no no no- D-don’t say things like that, baby– I’m not…myself, right now.”

Tasting him. All of him.

The sugary sweet coating lathers your tastebuds and makes you whine, your legs stumbling around Choso’s toned hips. You can feel every tense of his toned core, count all eight of his washboard abs, “S-s’this the ngh! pheromone perfume, baby–? Maybe I should wear it more hck! often-”

“No.”

No?

And Choso can bash himself for interrupting his lovely lady later - but right now, he was frenzied. 

Gulping voluminous lungfuls of that scent - of you. 

Deftly practiced fingers entrap your plummy clit and roll over not circles, not hearts- no, the letters of his name over n’ over. Branding the perked hood of your nub until you could feel your eyes burst with stars, Choso was ravenous. 

“S’because- because it’s you.” He gasps out thickly, smooth baritone unsteady under the weight of all those tears painting smudged eyeliner down his pretty cheeks. “Your scent, n-not that ngh- perfume.” You’re flinching at the looong drag of his scratchy tastebuds dragging over your scented throat. Or, well, previously scented throat. He was addicted to you. “You have me- have me in heat, lil’ human, n’ it’s making me…”

Wild.

If Choso was any lesser man then he would’ve dragged you halfway down the bedcoils and thrown your legs haphazardly over his shoulders. Folding you in half to pound you into the mattress until you were dumb.

But, luckily for your dripping cunt, Choso was that lesser man right now. 

He doesn’t think he feels alive - can’t even register his wheezing breaths once he’s manhandling you into the densest possible mating press. 

Strong biceps rippling, chest heaving-

His fuzzy brain only sparks with recognition when Choso’s heavy breeder balls clench once, twice, thrice at the way your drooling pussy was laminating his rounded curve with a slimy coating of slick. That’s when he can feel himself actually startle, actually see.

And fuck, was it a sight enough to make him cum if he wasn’t so entranced with that prettily awestruck look on your face. 

“Can’t even feel m-my legs, baby-” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, stray strands of coffee brown plastering all across his sweat-slicked forehead. And something in Choso’s voice was…dark. Dangerous. You were in trouble. “-can’t th-think of anything but ngh- breeding this pretty pussy right now.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant by a heat.

“Mhm– my clever girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? Rewarding your cutely spellbound mind with a hefty thud! thud! thud! right onto what feels like your lungs. He had all the time in the world to fuck you stupid, after all. “My mate.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sweetener

“H-heh- say that again, silly human.”

“A pheromone perfume.” You’re squirming impatiently, words sticking to the back of your throat in saccharine gasps. And even the tiniest of gyrations leave Sukuna’s ruby-topped heads kissin’ sultry circles around your weeping hole. 

Leave you wanting more.

Snickering, “A fucking- pheromone- what?” 

The monstrous king of curses displays you with a rugged sneer that makes your folds even more impossibly watery. Just for those stupid words stumbling from your mouth, you’re gifted with one - two - three solid spanks, elongated black nails curling into the stinging mounds of your ass. 

It’s all you can do to grapple on helplessly to the mountain of his toned shoulders, fingers clawing red train tracks that look more like kitten scratches on him. “K-Kuna–!”

“Don’t K-Kuna me, brat.” Raw need coats the scorching innards of your mouth when he only rolls his crimson eyes, burning hot. And out of all four of Sukuna’s beefy arms, it only takes one to latch onto the curve of your hips and hover you unstably over his doubly swollen cocks. Tutting, “What? You think some h-human perfume will control Ryomen Sukuna. I must’ve fucked ya dumb already.”

So mean.

But Sukuna always did have a soft spot for you.

And all is a single criss-cross of your wobbly arms, kiss-bitten lips puckering up into the beginnings of his only weakness – your pout. 

“Fine. Fine, spoiled girl.” It works.

Yet, you’re shivering at the thwack! thwack! thwack! of his doughy-tipped fingers swatting your plump clit. Pecs puffing out with pride and smugness when your eyes glaze over at them and you stare.

It happens all at once. In an instant. 

As soon as both of Sukuna’s round, throbbing cockheads crown the edges of your drooling pussy - he leans sultry inches closer and finally, finally smells it. That. 

That scented perfume you’d found in your king’s centuries-old treasury, untouched and just ripe for your picking. For Sukuna to get hit with a thorough blast of it off of your heated skin, simply taking one whiff to addle his honed senses.

Undoing years upon years of painstaking training to make your great king of curses halt, jagged canines baring you with a predatory snarl. “Th-think this can affect oh-”

Who was he against you? 

Your entire body vibrates when Sukuna’s chest rumbles with something carnal. Bursting from the very depths of his chest and making you shiver.

The thunderous noise has barely even stopped ringing in your ears before he’s latching on two massive hands to your waist and pulling you in. No care, no hesitation - nothing but drooling with the anticipation of being buried inside your slick-flooding pussy.

He needed it.

And he can feel his head fall headily backwards at the shuddering thud! of Sukuna’s two proud tips skimming the ends of your spongy cervix. Hooked fangs snatching onto the jut of his bottom lip at the bouncy recoil- 

Fuck, he didn’t want to separate from your gummy walls for even a split-second. Even if it was to let your hips bounce in lecherous swivels up n’ down up n’ down up n’ down.

“Sh-shit, you’re in so ngh- deep.” 

It’s a slow tempo, but you never got used to the stretch that was Sukuna’s staggering sizes. 

Both aching cocks were so unfairly long and hard that he didn’t even have to try to smear his puffy veins over your awaiting g-spot. You swear both lengths reached well over a foot, and just having him bottom out had you scrambling to caress the inflated tummy bulge he was fucking into you. 

Your jaw hangs open, a syrupy waterfall of saliva dribbling all over your chin. You’re not sure if Sukuna even registers the way he’s tenderly swiping away the overspilling excess with a fat thumb. 

“Kuna?” You have to stop yourself from almost flinching away, feeling oh-so-shy at the burning heart-eyes in his gaze. The way a fourth arm was patting the sinful cylindrical outline leading up from your puffy pussy. Reaching an arm to stroke his sweat-matted pink locks, “A-are you okay?”

The moment your fingers skim any part - any minute millimeter - of Sukuna’s body, he’s whimpering. Whimpering. 

And if that was the worst of it, then maybe he could have gathered up some semblance of his shattered dignity. 

But Sukuna isn’t simply making pretty noises - he’s cumming. 

One touch. And a thousand torrents of cum sugarcoating your claggy walls. 

So much of it. Too much of it - it sweeps through your gluey walls and forms a little puddle ‘round his bulky bases. Creamily filthy mixtures of seed and slick ringing Sukuna’s base, they hit your perked clit with a wet pap! each time you’re milking him through his peaks. 

“D-did you just-”

“Shut up.” He bites back, leaving you no time for the realization to sink in - before curling a vice-like hand around your throat and making you slam down your hips. “Shut up.”

Sudden, striking hits that bruise the curve of your ass just as much as it bruised your battered insides. You were so hot. So soft that it made him dizzy. Melty depths being contracted around thick lengths, the pace at which your greedy pussy was swallowing him up almost made the king want to whine-

“O-oh my god.”

It did make him whine.

With a creaking squeak! of cushion, Sukuna’s sculpted hips lurch off of the decadent royal mattress in repeated ruts. Animalistic.

“Shut up- I s-said ngh- s’not my fault.” He spits out, angry dewdrops of steamy pre being streaked out in twin ribbons into the back of your cunt. “Not my fault you just feel so- so ohhh- f-fuck you, brat. I-if the rest of ‘em found out…”

But Sukuna already knew he was weak for you. He knew.

Just not to this extent. 

Not till just a simple cloud of your scent made his vision swim, a fresh wave of drool slipping n’ sliding from between the traitorous slit of his mouth. Both of them.

“M-mhm–” You find yourself smiling - maybe from his reaction, maybe from the way you were being fucked so thoroughly right. The knobbled tops of your knees skid easily across Sukuna’s drenched lap when you straddle him even even tighter, “S’that why-”

He wanted you to shut up. He needed you to shut up or else he was going to fucking cum again. 

Which is why his second cursed mouth opens wiiiide to puff your cunt with steamily clouded pants. Before rolling out his tongue and dragging up the entirety of your bulging pussy. All overfilled with him.

“A-another word–” Sukuna’s seething through clenched teeth, but it’s no use. None. Not when the way you lean in to listen closer is enough to make the king blush, “-a-and I make you walk a- ngh! around the entire day with my cum all safe n’ sound inside..”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “U-use me?”

“Wh-what?”

And for the first time in hours, Ino manages to meet his hazy chestnut eyes with yours. Shivering. Half-lidded. “Use me.”

Fuck.

You thought your beloved boyfriend would regain his senses by the second round- no, perhaps the third time’s the charm.

Okay, maybe the fourth? The fifth?

But even after six looong rounds, your splintered bedframe was still trilling with shrill creaks; sagging uselessly on one end as strong, tannish arms stick ever-closer to your body like glue. Folding you into the meanest n’ tightest full nelson possible. 

Still scorching. Still needy after getting hit with just a waft of that pheromone your friends bought you as a joke. A joke. 

But this was anything but.

Ino can’t even bring himself to wipe away the wads upon wads of slippery drool leaking from his maw after every mushy thud of his globular cockhead against the very back of your goopy cervix. He can’t even think.

“Puh-please.” He’s hiccuping, soft tipped fingers clawing near the sweaty crown of your head to push you further down. Lapping a lazy stripe up your scented neck, “Just one more– ngh! Need you t-to use me to make yerself cum once more, sweetness.”

“M-more?”

And oh, your voice was warbling with such cute disbelief that it makes Ino groan. “Yes. Yes.”

Planting a few more vicious plunges of his strawberry pink tip into the target of your favorite sweet spots - Ino’s favorites, too. Especially once your puffy pussylips part with numerous geysers of slick, flooding translucent rings at his base. 

All without even looking up from your neck.

He can’t.

Ino’s entire body wracks with tremors when he even tries to pull away a mere inch. Two. All that he can manage before nuzzling back in with heavy repeated pants.

You’re only getting wetter - and that maddening little perfume one you? Only stronger. 

He swears - fuck, maybe he’s going crazy - that he can smell just how close you are, how your tummy’s tightening into wiry knots. 

“But- but are you sure, baby–?” Your fingers scratch at the tawny ends of his damp locks, a primal itch so heavenly that he almost purrs. “M’wondering if you even can-”

“I can-” He’s cutting you off, free fingers straying down to the slightly-softening base of Ino’s furious cock and squeezing. Rutting up into you with wild abandon, “I can. I can- promise, sweetness, I promise.”

“Taku–”

And throughout Ino’s hazy mind, your words ring out like a death sentence. Like a punishment. Causing him to snap open his eyes with a sharp intaking gasp, round-topped curves of his knees manhandling your thighs further n’ further open.

You whine at the burning smear, head throwing backwards in a way that makes his slow rovering over your neck break away-

And if Ino was upset before, then he’s simply devastated now.

Sounding like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “No. No no no no no- don’t run, pretty.” Like catnip. Like a moth drawn to your frame, he’s wrapping his jittery forearms around you until you could count every twitch of his sculptured forearms. Crushing you in close. “Look at yourself- smell yourself. Fuck, I need it. M’not asking, m’b-begging you to use me like a…toy.”

He almost wishes he could bring himself to lurch away from that haven of pheromones dabbed across your skin. 

Almost wishes he could do anything else but swivel a fat thumb across your weepy folds, bringing it allll the way up to his eager nose to steal a long sniff. 

Filthy. 

But it’s exactly what makes Ino’s swollen cock perk up with an animalistic flinch inside of you, probing into the target of your g-spot dead on. 

“Shit- shit— y-you just got so much bigger.” Your vision flashes blissful white when his length stiffens into even longer n’ sold inches, swabbing at your precious cunt with pressurized pounds. And whatever ounces of blood left in his melty mind? Oh, they’re sprinting all the way down Ino’s boiling veins to end up bloating his throbbing cock. 

Getting hard just by the smell of you.

“O-oh.” You’re being bounced on top of his toned pecs when they dip with a sudden hitched breath. “Yes. Yes yes yes, jus’ like that. Love everythin’ about this ngh- pussy, she’s started smelling sweeter e-even here, too. Fuck, you’re a goddess, pretty.”

Sounding as if he was in such heavenly agony - husky voice cracking a few octaves higher. His hold so vice-like on you that you can already feel yourself bruising. 

Sloppier. Needier.

Shit- Ino needed to see that dumbstruck look surely being fucked onto your face. He’s finding himself moving - body before mind - to face that reflective, floor-length mirror propped up at the end of your bed. 

He always knew that thing would come in handy.

You’re croaking out a moan at the wet texture of Ino’s mouth watering, sprinkling your heated skin with spatters of spit.

But who could blame him?

It was such a sultry sight - to watch your bloated lips be pried apart by his reddened circumference, spraying out saturated glazes of your sweet, sweet juices each and every time. 

“See? See?” Ino’s murked puffs tinge with something higher-pitched and wild. Pearly white edges of his teeth sink into your delicate lobe, and make your skin break out in goosebumps. “How fucked you have me. Think m’gonna hngh- die if I don’t fuh-fuck this pretty pussy. If I don’t make you cum-”

Shit, he doesn’t even want to imagine the thought.

Your kiss-bitten mouth slackens into a loose oh! “Wanna- I wanna cum, Taku—” Twisting your head ‘round to face him with a slight pout that makes his entire body jolt.

“Y-yeah?” So, so pretty with a dopey smile being spread all across his face, you’re leaning in to kiss the cratering dimple at the edge of his plump lips. “C’mon. Fuck back into me- ngh- use me ta make yerself cum.”

You’re heading his every word, thighs aching at the fatigued pain of bouncing your hips in a resounding pap! pap! pap! Grinding your treacly slit all the way back into his fattened balls, “L-like this?”

“Atta girl. Harder, now.” His brows furrow. “Harder.”

More more more.

Words petering out halfway into a snarl at this point, you glimpse at the glint of Ino’s sharp canines peeking through the mirror. “Fuck me. Fuck me, pretty.”

“Taku.”

And you’re not sure who wanted you to cum more - you, or your feverish boyfriend. 

But your spellbound self had some semblance of an answer when the sound of his name on your honeyed tongue makes Ino flinch as if hit with a zillion volts of electricity.makes him dart down a hand to grace your neglected clit with an oh-so-rude pinch.

Ino’s fuzzy brain wasn’t even working enough to remember those patterns you loved so much. To remember just how to make his body move.

All he knew was that he needed this.

Needed the way you’re arching your spine into the perfect curvature against his glissading front, head thrown back with a mewl of Taku—! once you finally tip over the edge.

He finds his mouth falling gape, “Y-you’re so fucking hot.” Eyes locked on the trembly image of you in the mirror, he fucks you through every white-hot peak of your high. Babbling away,”Did your dear Taku m-make you cum, sweetness? Does it feel good? 

Oh, the audacity of him to tip a few thick digits underneath your chin and force you to nod. 

Giggling, “Thought so-” And then it happens. Then, he leans in for a sweet, sweet kiss as he usually does - only to be wafted with a murky cloud of pheromone perfume. Again. You watch as Ino blushes a soft pink, “Hey, p-pretty…so…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Everyday is everyday.

Everyday means everyday - and it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even after so many countless rounds and rounds.

Never, for a Gojo Satoru that has to grit his pearly white teeth viciously to stop himself from using just an ounce too much of his strength on your pliable body and breaking you. 

Snarling canines peeking out just when he nestles your legs over two broad shoulders and bends down, down, down in half. 

“Hngh- please—” Your chin hits the heaving edges of your chest at the burn of the sheer stretch. Gojo’s muscular thighs sticking against your own and pressing into the inflated little pouch he’d made at your tummy. Filled to the brim with his sappy cum-

“Th-that’s all your fault, y’know–” He’s hissing, handsome jaw clenching desperately to stop those tremoring keens from invading his words. He fails. And Gojo can already tell by the smug smile curling your lips, “-all b-because of you and that fuck! damn perfume.”

Nevermind that he was the one that bought it for you in the first place - some niche, overpriced brand dropped straight into your lap. 

Nevermind the fact that he had come up with the idea. 

Oh, you should’ve known that this is what wearing pheromone perfume around the strongest would get you.

Because Gojo Satoru was breaking - shattering. 

Every pressurized thrust of his leaking out a new wave of overstimulated pre frosting up your slicked entrance. Accompanied hand-in-lecherous-hand with shockwaves of cursed energy that make your unbolted furniture drag magnetized centimeters all the way towards the creaking bed. 

“Sh-shit your p-powers—” you’re whining, eyes widening at the hazy sight of blue lightning flickering across Gojo’s sweat-lathered body. 

“My p-p-powers, huh, sweetheart?” He’s leaning in to whisper, eyes wide. Wild. Breath hitching so many octaves higher that it sends your spine arching with a goosebumped chill. All into his awaiting touch, “And whose- fault- is that—?”

You’re not sure if you’re a genius - or just plain idiotic. Because even feeling the withheld power being those very same soft palms holding your boneless thighs up, you find it in yourself to snark. “Yours.”

And Gojo almost stops. 

If that didn’t torture him just as much as that would torture you, that is. Instead, he’s slowing down to sleazy drags n’ grinds pressing gluey peck after peck on your cervix. 

Such sweet, sweet leisure - yet, his words were tense. He breathes out a shallow cloud of air, “Whose?” 

Gojo’s tone was dangerous. And his battering rams even more so.

“Y-y- ngh!” Saved by a particularly hard slam of all his copious inches digging into your glutinous g-spot, it leaves a bulky circular branding that stings deliciously with every targeted buck.

You can feel yourself slowly being fucked into stupidity with every swash of thickly viscous cum swirling around your insides. And you already know by the buzzing pressure around his cerulean eyes that he was taking unfair advantage of his Six Eyes to make sure his veiny cock reaches each and every single spot inside your pretty pussy.

Locking your dangling ankles with one hand behind his head - the noticeable flex of Gojo’s pale biceps makes you moan. 

Trapped. 

Oh- how pretty you were like this, he muses, eyeing the wobbly quiver of your needy lips. Both of them. And you were so loud, too - your saturated cunt so desperate to chat up at him with ringing squelches that carry over your adorable noises. 

Maybe he should let you hit him with a waft of that special pheromone perfume more often.

His round nostrils flare, hyper-sensitive senses greedily gulping out each ounce and waft you’re letting off. Every repeated pap! of Gojo’s hipbones follows one of his choked-out syllables, “I said- Whose?”

Someone sobs - and only a few sloppy seconds do you realize that it’s you. Words coming out helplessly garbled, “M-mine.”

At that very moment, a dimly-lit lamp across your heady bedroom shatters. 

Sharp shards of glasses bounce off the two of your fervently glissading bodies, limitless. 

But if that was taxing for the strongest - then he doesn’t show it. Not even a sign. Gojo only angles his hip a few degrees to the right to bounce into your spongy cervix even harsher. In rough, jagged strokes as if it was nothing.

In fact, by the filmy glaze overtaking his hooded eyes, you think that it might just be nothing. You think that he might not even have realized what was happening. 

Pressing a drunken trailway of kisses down the helpless curve of your calf, he grins. Toothy. Animalistic. “Atta girl.”

Pulpy soft tips of Gojo’s fingers slide sneakily down to your messy pussy, drivelling up slow slides up and down your teary entrance. Just until you were getting comfortable - just until you were letting your guard down. Silly girl. 

Before slipping past your tight ring of resistance and prying you open doubly. And oh, you should’ve expected that when Gojo gets the job done - he’s going above and beyond to make sure you remember it. 

That you’re his.

Pummeling right into the throbbing bullseye of your g-spot, the edges of his long digits hit that spot so hard that you find yourself bawling. Eyes snapping open- before promptly closing as you cum.

Your high is a shock - a white-hot mess of such euphoria. 

Tipping right over the edge - and it might’ve been a surprise to you, but Gojo saw it coming a mile away with those special eyes of his. Chuckling to himself at the velvety smooch of your sappy walls milking every inch of him.

“There we go- there we g-go, my girl.” He’s pumping you so thoroughly full that you feel your vision blur, the vibrating buzz of Gojo’s cursed energy being fed into you with each strike. “Cum- cum f’me. H-heh, all because- because of me-”

Your tits bump up into his plush pecs, sensitive nubs of your nipples brushing against his rosy pink ones. You’re reaching out a trembling hand to cup Gojo’s pretty face - one he leans into and kisses. “T-Toru—!”

Just about all you can manage out.

And your orgasm might not have been a surprise to him, but Gojo’s own absolutely was.

It happens in a split second - just after that nickname spills from the honeyed tip of your tongue. 

Gojo’s snowy lashes flutter upwards, sweat-slicked brows raising all the way to the edges of his silky fringe. Bubblegum lips parting into an oh! only falling further and further slack with every creamy ribbon shot upwards into you. 

It floods, it pours. And you can feel your flooded pussylips overspilling before he’s even halfway through his orgasm.

Oozing out glutinous wads of cum with every pump - Gojo had no rhythm now, he had no rhyme. Nothing but the carnal need to push every ounce of his fatly beading seed deeper n’ deeper into your pretty pussy, heated pink crownhead swirling out what feels like hearts at the very door to your womb.

You’re so full you could explode-

A hand rovers over that inflationary bulge - bigger now. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Was that really your loving boyfriend? He sounded so ruined right about now, hoarse. You couldn’t even blink your eyes up to make out the expression on his face because the lights had exploded. Possibly in every ward of Tokyo.

You feel it before you see it.

The familiar, shrill puff! of that pheromone perfume being sprayed on you- what? 

With a sharp gasp, you’re looking back n’ forth between the shiny sheen of liquid spritzed once more over your skin and Gojo’s ever-loving smile.

“Oh, whoops.” Soft snickers punctured with a loooong sniff of the air - of you. And Gojo’s eyes take on a predatory glint that makes your entire body wrack with shivers. “Better hope you’re on ngh- b-birth control, girl.”

“...”

A/N. Fun fact, the entirety of Sri Lanka had a six hour power cut while I was writing this because some monkey jumped onto a power line </33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kitteninabunker]

tennis!player reader is coach!toji’s favorite.

he lives for that tight little tennis skirt, catching the way it lifts whenever you run to hit the ball across the net to the other player, the soft cling of the sweat-damp fabric hugging your ass. and if we’re being honest? he doesn’t give a damn about the matches or what the other players are doing. he doesn’t care about who’s winning, the man won’t even keep track of his own team’s score. he’s only there to ogle at the sweet bounce of your tits while you play, shamelessly spreading his legs to palm his cock through his pants like some juvenile pervert as you dart across the court.

he’s been coaching for years, working with the regular surplus of mediocre athletes. but girls like you? fresh, soft, and stupidly sweet? they make his job fun again. he stares at you whenever skip over to him after practice, face flushed, hair damp, oversized tennis bag swinging on your shoulder like you didn’t just spend an hour being his personal wet dream. “did i do good today, coach?”

it’s always a bit refreshing to see a new, sexy girl like you on the team, anyways.

“you did real good out there, y/n.” he’d congratulate, and you—being clueless, oblivious and so damn cute—just gave him a polite smile and chirped out a “thank you!” not having the slightest idea about what you’re doing to him.

you would’ve never guessed it, how many times he’s stroked his fat cock with your sweaty panties wrapped around it, huffing and muttering your name in the dark of the locker room after he stole them from your bag. you don’t know how long he’s been imaging warm cunt milking him, your voice all breathy and wrecked as you bounce on his dick like you need it.

all of those dirty stares, all the times he fucked his fist thinking about your dumb little face—now it’s real. you’re finally in his lap, moaning and drooling as his thick length splits you open.

“make me cum, and no practice for a week, that sound good?” toji groans, his voice steady and dominant as ever while you struggle to even think straight, every slow, tingling stretch of his cock inside of you, every time his fat tip hits your cervix makes your brain short circuit. “mhm—yes—fuck, toji!” you whimper, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you keep bouncing. the sound of your plush ass smacking against his hips fills the room, wet and filthy.

"this tight pussy's gonna make 'er old man bust like a fuckin’ loser without shame, hm?" he teases, voice dripping with mockery as he slaps your ass, making you whine as it leaves a stinging red handprint. you sharply suck in a breath of air, clutching at his knees as you keep rolling your hips. every bounce forces his thick cock even deeper, his tip knocking at your cervix like it’s trying to break through. toji’s large, calloused and move to hold your hips, squeezing the fat as your plush skin spills between the gaps of his fingers. he drags you down harder, using you like a toy and your hips grind messily against him as his cock bullies your guts. “d-don’t cum inside!” you plead, even as your pussy clamps down around him, wet and twitching, clinging like it wants him to breed you. “don’t—“

toji just laughs, low, breathless, mean.

“yeah? sayin’ that while this greedy cunt’s suckin’ me in like it wants every drop?” he grits out, watching your body tremble as he grips his hips tighter. “dumb lil thing doesn’t even know what it wants, huh?”

you shake your head weakly, but you can’t answer, not with the way he’s fucking up into you now, the way his fat cock is bruising your insides, hitting that spot that makes you clench and cry out and fall apart all over again.

"shit, you’re really tryin’ to squeeze it outta me, aren’t you?” he growls, sweat beading along his brow. “gonna fill this pretty college pussy up, baby. gonna stuff you full.”

“toji—fuck—please, please don’t—” your words break off into a pathetic little sob, voice pitchy, desperate.

“aww, listen to you,” he coos mockingly, slapping your ass. “too dumb to think, too cockdrunk to stop me. you were beggin’ to get bred the second you climbed into my lap, weren’t you?”

your eyes roll back as he fucks up into you, rough and relentless, the slap of your soaked cunt against his thighs echoing filthy through the empty locker room.

“bet you’d look real pretty knocked up,” he pants, voice rough, right in your ear. “tummy all round with my kid, still wearin’ that tiny little skirt like a fuckin’ slut. showin’ off who you belong to.”

you’re twitching in his lap, body convulsing as another orgasm slams through you—and that’s all it takes.

“fuck, baby—here it comes—” he grits, slamming up hard, cock buried to the hilt as he cums inside you, thick and hot and endless. you can feel it paint your insides, leaking out around his cock in slow, lazy drips.

he stays there for a moment, buried deep, pulsing, and panting, before you slowly raise your hips, letting his limp cock slowly pull out with a wet, messy squelch. and then he grabs your ass, spreading you wide so he can watch. he reaches down, stroking his slick cock lazily as he watches his cum drip down your thighs “look at that,” he groans, thumbing your swollen folds open. “fuckin’ leaking all over me. i filled you so deep it’s spillin’ out.”

you whimper, twitching from overstimulation, and he just smirks.

“what a good little cumdump. ‘m gonna have to fuck it back in, yeah? make sure it sticks. can’t have my pretty toy wastin’ a single drop.”

“don’t worry, baby. coach’ll take real good care of you. just keep showin’ up in that cute lil’ skirt, lettin’ me breed this dumb pussy every time you ‘earn a break.’ fuck practice, you’re better off gettin’ knocked up for me.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Red. That was all Simon could see as he barreled through the barracks, ignoring the concerned onlookers as he slammed open door after door.

He was just washing up for the day, ready to head to his quarters when he’d heard whispers of you being admitted to medical. The words “banged up pretty good” were all he needed to hear before setting off in a panic to find you.

You were everything to him. Simon Riley was a man who swore he’d die alone and be happy doing so, until you came along. You, with your terrible jokes, your witty personality, your loyalty and determination and gods damn your fucking smile. He’d do anything to see you smile.

Love wasn’t something that came easy to Simon, but with you it did. Loving you was as easy as breathing, it was natural. He loved you from the moment he saw you, and would love you until the day he died.

The door to the infirmary flung open, and Simon strode in with purpose, his eyes scanning the entire room. When they landed on you, Simon felt his heart drop, his blood running cold.

“Who did this?” Was all he said, his cold gaze softening ever so slightly as he took in every cut and bruise that littered your beautiful skin. It took everything in him not to yell, to scream.

Your eyes dropped from his, your lips forming a thin line as the nurse beside you finished stitching the large cut that now adorned your shoulder.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, causing you and the nurse to jump slightly.

With a small smile aimed at you, the nurse gave a polite nod to Simon as she ran past, leaving the two of you alone in the now eerily silent room.

“Tell me.” Simon demanded, sinking to his knees in front of you. When you still refused to meet his gaze, he gently rested his index finger on your chin and tilted your head to look at him. His eyes were soft, gentle as he gazed into your own. “Tell me.”

The tenderness in which Simon looked at you had your lower lip wobbling, a soft sob slowly escaping your mouth as you replayed what had happened in your head. “Simon, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. You need to tell me what happened.” His finger gently began to graze your cheek, a tenderness that you’d grown used to over the years with him. A tenderness reserved only for you.

“The mission went south. There was a mole. We got ambushed.” Was all you said, as you struggled to regain your composure.

“Who.”

“Simon, please it’s really okay, I-.”

“Who.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as Simon ripped off his mask, his face now fully visible to you. Concern etched its way across his features as he held your gaze. You knew this was a battle you wouldn’t win.

“Coles. It was Coles.”

“He dead?” Simon asked, his face not showing any of his internal turmoil. If he wasn’t, Simon would make damn well sure he’d suffer for what had happened to you.

You shook your head as your bottom lip trembled once more. “No, but Simon-.”

Simon cut you off with a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin as he murmured, “Sleep in my quarters tonight, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting for your reply, he strode out of the infirmary, the red in his vision intensifying as he set out to find the mole. Nobody, nobody would harm a hair on his lovers head and get away with it.

Simon would do anything for you, die for you, kill for you. He’d do anything to make sure that beautiful smile of yours was permanently etched onto your lips.

For you, Simon Riley would watch the world burn.

[rafesangelita]

♡ when you’re so wet that rafe keeps slipping out..

warnings: making out, heavy petting, dry humping (not really, it’s pretty messy), finger sucking, cockwarming (?), unprotected sex, praise, teasing, rafe being super pussy drunk, belly bulge, size kink, biting, slight dacryphilia

“fuck, look at those hips..” rafe pulled away from your lips, a string of saliva still connecting you two as he dragged you up and down his lap, his large palms enveloping the soft globes of your ass. with shaky hands, you held onto his shoulders as you rocked on top of him, your panties drenched with your arousal. “need’ you, ray..” you whimpered, “please.” rafe pressed a trail of sloppy kisses across your collarbone, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut.

he navigated your body like it was the back of his hand, his skillful touch turning you into putty. rafe could feel your heat through his boxers, the soaked fabric making him groan as his hardened cock strained against the material. “i’ll give it you, baby, don’t worry,” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, ripping a yelp from your lips, “wet those fingers for me.” rafe could only imagine how slippery your cunt would feel swallowing him whole, your slick alone already making you glide easily on top of the layers separating you two from full penetration.

giggling softly, rafe watched as your hand disappeared underneath the waistband of your panties, his breath hitching once you held up your fingers, a pool of your sticky succulence glistening underneath the dim light. knowing that he was the one to make you like this made him twitch with need, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he brought your digits to his mouth. with a baited breath, you gasped softly when he took your juices on his tongue, the man in front of you moaning at the taste.

no matter how many times rafe found his head between your thighs, he could never get used to how intoxicating you were, all of his senses and primal instincts honing in on fucking you stupid. without wasting another second, rafe was quick to take himself out of his boxers, a hiss leaving his lips as his length smacked against your tummy. peeling back the lace material of your underwear, he slid them down your legs until he caught sight of the absolute mess between your thighs.

laying you down on your back, rafe brought your knees up to your chest, using one hand to press on your lower abdomen and the other to guide himself between your folds. he was so hard, he had to use his thumb to keep the tip of his cock down so he could enter your needy cunt. he marveled at the size difference, the head of his length stopping just below your belly button. “fuck, i’m gonna wreck you..” he trailed off, toying with your clit before slipping inside, filling you up inch by inch until you were crying out in both pleasure and pain.

with the hand that he had on your stomach, he guided your own over the budge in your tummy, your eyes widening slightly as he started thrusting into you at a steady pace. “you feel that? ‘feel the way my cock fills you up to the fucking brim?” your eyes rolled back at the same time you whined out a ‘f-fuck, yes!’ into your palm. your walls stretched deliciously around the the welcomed intrusion that was his length, your pussy clenching around him for all that he had. the sounds falling from your lips were nothing short of pornographic, the moans and choked sobs only pushing rafe closer to the edge.

he sped up until his skin was slapping against your own, your back arching off of the bed when he slipped out and stroked your clit with the underside of his cock. you shrieked at the sensation, your legs trembling in sensitivity. “too much..” you shook your head, bringing your legs down to wrap around his waist instead. rafe groaned, your slick dripping down his length as he tapped your glossy folds. “you’re so fucking wet, i’m slipping right out,” he grunted, “this is what i do to you, ‘pretty girl?” he leaned down, nipping the sensitive part of your neck.

he kept himself nestled inside of you for a few moments, letting you revel in being so utterly full. you gave him an approving hum, your nails digging into his skin as he bit you softly across your collarbone. starting up his thrusts again, he slipped out as soon as he picked up the pace, the action making him curse under his breath. your eyes watered in frustration, your bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth. rafe saw your tears, the sight shooting straight to his cock. he loved seeing how delirious he made you, his chest filling up with pride as you looked up at him with that fucked-out gaze.

soon after he continued, your high was hitting you in intense waves, the coil in the pit of your stomach snapping in two as rafe watched your eyebrows knit together, the added mess between your thighs only making his hips stutter with his own climax painting your walls. “rafe!” you screamed in his ear, his thumb slipping between your lips for you to bite down on while he twitched and convulsed inside of you. a shiver ran down his back as he caged you tightly between his arms, his seed spilling out of you as you both went through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

once you were okay, rafe pressed a kiss to your lips, stroking the side of your face before rolling over to your side. “what’s your ring size?” he sighed, pulling you against his chest. you laughed softly, slightly confused at the words that left his mouth. “why?” rafe’s chest was rising and falling as he glanced down at you, meeting your eyes. “are you kidding me? i need to lock this pussy down. like tonight.”

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ jealous boys — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, possessive tendencies, jealous boys, toxic, fingering, oral (male! receiving), oral (fem! receiving), good girl used, spit kink, mirror syx, this is so filthy lmao (especially sylus part)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne usually doesn't get angry when he's feeling the sudden dash of jealousy crush down on him— he gets calm, in fact, terrifyingly so.

not to mention that the moment he has you all to himself again he's fast on latching onto you with your back now hitting the wall with one of his hands by your head, the other already between your legs, skimming the flesh of your inner thigh with his cold knuckles, memorizing the place where your leg connects to your privates before you can react nor do something.

zayne doesn't say anything to you yet, instead his lips brush against yours once— soft and misleading before he bites down, hard, and before you knew it, your surprised gasp gave him permission for his tongue to fill your mouth like a sin made of salt and heat, in accessory to his fingers stroking your pussy so unbelievably dirty and cruel.

"you smiled at him, i saw it," he whispers against your lips, rubbing your folds as you make a blissful face, "what did he do to earn that?" zayne presses his fingers deeper between your legs as he watches you grind against them, jaw slacked in awe as you coat him with your slick.

"you know, i could fuck you right here," his voice drops, thick with restraint, "perhaps even in front of him, so he knows who you belong to," as his mouth descends again, this time trailing along your jaw, your neck and your collarbone as his sharp teeth tease the flesh with his fingers hooking into your doused panties.

"fuck, you're dripping baby, what are we gonna do about that, huh?" he hisses, his dangerous gaze on you practically glowing in the dark as he taunts your bare pussy like the way you've been making him jealous tonight.

"you like being fought over, don’t you?"

he licks the skin over your pulse before dipping a finger into your tight hole, slowly, menacing, your slick weeping out of your pussy with the slightest pressure, your hole parting for him ever so obediently— and zayne swears he saw the prettiest kind of stars behind your eyes when he slides another finger inside you, curling and owning your cunt, making your stomach turn weightless.

yet the kiss that follows next turned brutal with teeth and spit and groans as if he's feeding off you, imbedding all of his frustration into your frame as if your mouth was the only thing roping him to sanity.

"don't you ever do this again."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

before he even touches you, xavier's trembling— and without a doubt, you've said another man's name, and he's heard it, undoubtedly picked up on how you spelled it out.

so when he kisses you for the first time that night— it wasn't near anything sweet, beyond that was it unraveling, lips trembling and tongue somewhat clumsy and anxious, yet he remained deeply passionate, although wrecked, a moan building into every breath when he slants down one of his hands to squeeze your ass and part your thighs.

"who were you talking to? hm?" he whispers into your mouth before grinding down his groin against your clit, and then, again, more brokenness adds to his confused tone, "do you love me?" and when he says it, he lines himself up with your hole, and the feel of your pussy immediately squeezing and convulsing and claiming his dripping dick was enough to make him wince out your name.

his hips grind into yours harder and more despairing, "i need you," he sobs into your neck as you're feeling him rock himself thick and heavy inside your walls, "you can't leave me, you cannot."

his hands shake as they slide up your tits and at the same time, his mouth became frantic— tongue swallowing yours and teeth clacking, it's gotten so messy that spit began dripping down your chin when you moan his name into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair and then he breaks— kissing you like he's dying, pounding you down like he's attempting to carve himself into your bones.

"say you're mine, come on," he begs you, his voice decaying into something crushing, velvet and low, the kind of softness that only existed in darkened bedrooms and godless prayers, "even if it's a lie baby, just tonight, say it, please."

and when you do— he sloppily sobs into your mouth with his hips stuttering within a deep thrust, swiftly lifting your legs onto his shoulders and holding onto them with ease as he continues to buck into you, never gentle, only desperate.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

in all aspects, rafayel's jealousy was much quieter than you originally thought it would be— as well as colder in a way which made your skin crawl.

you see, he doesn't shout at you, no— he seethes, and when he touches you, it's never rushed, instead it's intentional, dangerous, like he's punishing you with refusing to give you pleasure.

he crushes you against the mirror like he's trying to make you witness your own undoing, the glass beginning to fog and blur as he fucks your thighs— and with that, you see the curve of your mouth as it falls open, the helpless arch of your spine and behind you, his very eyes— half-lidded, ravenous, like he's not just watching but branding the image into eternity.

your reflection became a witness, a confessional, every noise you were making and every beg for him had to enter his mind fully— those desperate, broken sounds— etched into silver and silence as rafayel wasn't giving you what you wanted this time, his mind circling endlessly in shameful memory as he fucks his erection into the plush of your thighs, never once actually pressing inside your warm cunt to feel inside.

his mouth hovers over your neck before he bites down on it, "you touched his arm," he whispers, but it's not sweet, no, not reminding you of the rafayel you called your boyfriend— it's venom in silk, low and coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around your throat while pretending to cradle it, "do you want me to break it?"

then his tongue slides against your neck— long, smooth, calculated as his kiss was equal to liquid sin, measured in chaos before his hands cup the plush of your ass to spread you and finally press into your soaked cunt, balls deep like he's sculpting you into the shape of his length.

yet the man doesn’t grunt, he hums instead, like he's tasting expensive wine and it's in the way his eyes half-close from listening to your moans dragging low from your throat— like the feeling of you milking him was intoxicating enough to unmake his jealousy.

“tell me what he has that I don't," he drawls, teeth grazing your shoulder, "and i'll take it from him," as he bites down hard enough for your flesh to almost bleed before kissing the pulsing spot, dragging his erection till you felt hot and bred in your stomach, his hips making sinful smack, smack, smacks as your body tenses by itself.

you spell out his name, but it somehow felt even dirtier when you moan in, messier than before when you cry it out as he fucks you with a ferocity that knocks the air from your lungs.

"good girl," he purrs, happy with you, "now let me hear you scream."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

mouth wide, tongue deep, with hands rough around sylus's length as he yanks your head deeper into his lap like he's afraid someone will tear your pretty, hot mouth away. fuck, how much he adored seeing you in such position, between his thighs, gurgling on his dick and watching him from under your doused lashes.

"mine," he snarls from above, fingers intertwined in your hair as he helps you bob your head up n down up n down, "all mine."

your mouth sealed around his cock felt like a wildfire to him— smoking hot, a destruction only you could imbed on him— and sometimes it scared him, how much power you held for him to become so riled up when seeing you with another person.

your tongue circles around his cockhead and doesn't ask for permission to go faster, your mouth claiming the moans you sought after instead— and it seizes sylus, truly it bruises him and fuck, if he sees you with this man again, he cannot promise himself to hold back.

thick and flushed, his cock twitches in your mouth and presses right against your throat, aching when you moan against his girth, spit bubbling from your lips and clinging onto his skin when he lifts his hips up to thrust into your wet warmth, gripping the couch underneath him for balance.

it's all so messy and wet, and you loved it— drooling all over his dick and taking the punishment like a good girl, gurgling and sucking and slurping it all up as sylus could barely catch his breath, heaving from the exhilarating desire you imposed on him.

the tension coiled on his body— tight, ravenous— a mounting pressure that climbed like a hymn chanted through gritted teeth, blistering toward something supernatural as you look up at him again, tear stricken eyes and wet mouth sucking him oh so well.

it’s not release that he needed, no, or not yet at least, but the unbearable promise of it, the kind of high that felt less like pleasure and more like divine punishment delivered through trembling flesh, and when you hum around him at last, sylus can almost forget his jealousy there.

for a moment he stops you as his hand silently wraps around your throat, thumb dragging down your swollen, bottom lip so he can spit into your mouth— messily, filthy and possessive, he needs this, okay?

because sylus still found himself agonizingly mad.

"did he make you blush like this?" he mocks you from above, slanting down and licking into your mouth, "did he get you this wet?" as he moves his foot between your legs to rub his shoe against your wet cunt, the scent of your arousal whirling up to touch his nostrils.

his other hand grabs your head, pulling you down again while simultaneously grinding his foot against your pussy— fuck, you're so soaked it's audible, so embarrassingly obscene he could very well applaud himself for this.

and he groans, a sound pulled from his chest like agony when you take him inside your mouth again.

"you drive me insane," he pants, leaning his head back, "you should be locked away, kept for my eyes only."

he doesn't stop moving you off his cock, not once, your lips moving and working, your tongue claiming him until your knees ached and your pussy came all over his shoe, your chin sticky with cum and saliva and filth, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he watches you fuck his cock with your throat.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

caleb spells out your name like it's a curse he never wanted to learn in the first place, and it kind of scared you a bit— teeth gritted and breathing harsh with his lips crashing into yours mid-sentence, bruising and unrelenting, his tongue pushing past yours like he's forcing himself inside— no space nor time for air, no room for a single thought, for denial.

his head moves between your thighs without restrain and now he feels you unravel in shivers and moans as the soft slap of his tongue on your pussy caught you off guard together with his palms cupping your breasts, his wet muscle lapping against your folds as they part for him obediently, licking between your cunt with sounds of slick noises echoing through the bedroom.

"you let him touch you? didn't you?" he rasps into your cunt, nosing your clit to take in your scent as he groans out filthily, his eyes lurching back into the hollow of his skull, not just in pleasure but in delirium— as if the taste of your pussy was something his body cannot withhold, "you think i didn't see it?"

he thrusts his tongue against you deeper, his cock hard and angry grinding into the mattress like he's punishing himself for letting anyone else near you, "i'll fucking ruin you for this," he growls, voice breaking, "with my fingers, my mouth, my cock— hell, over and over until you break,"

you moan when he lets you hear just how wet he's made you as he's slurping at you with insane hunger, his tongue ravishing your cunt and poking your hole over and over before dragging it up to lick between your folds again, collecting your slick on his lips an chin.

"is this for me? or for him?" tauntingly, Caleb never stopped playing with your pussy to hear a coherent answer form you, because you see, he already knows what you were about to say and he'll make you know as well, who you belong to.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[mrfoox]

Sooo... Not being able to sleep and crying for 3 hours didn't do me any good huh

[fear-is-truth]

SQUID GAME : HOW THEY EAT YOU OUT

➛ warnings. — oral sex (f!receiving) ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ MDNI 18+ ➛ jackie's note. — a bit rushed; my apologies ➛ ft. nam-gyu (124) ‧ thanos (230) ‧ dae-ho (388)

NAM-GYU eats you out like it’s a punishment. like you did something to piss him off, and this is the (glorious) consequence—laid out beneath him, thighs hooked over his shoulders, his mouth hot and unrelenting against you. he doesn’t ease you into it. no teasing, no soft kisses, just his tongue swiping up your slit in one broad, wet stroke before his lips latch onto your clit. sucks hard enough to make you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets. he smirks into you, barely giving you a second before diving back in, his fingers spreading you open wider so he can work his tongue deeper.

he’s messy with it, too. obscene, really. making sure you hear every wet, lewd sound as he devours you. when he pulls back for air, his mouth is slick, spit and arousal smeared all over his chin. “fuckin’ dripping,” he mutters, more to himself than you, “so easy.” his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you from squirming away. “stay still,” he orders, and when you don’t immediately obey, he presses a hand down on your lower stomach, pinning you in place. “didn’t say i was done, did i?”

and then he’s back on you, lapping at your clit, the cold metal of his ring grazing your skin as he presses two fingers inside, stretching you out without warning. the contrast—the warmth of his tongue, the ice of his ring—makes you shudder, a broken whimper slipping past your lips. he groans at that, greedy. fuck, he loves the way you sound. “knew you’d like that,” he taunts, fucking his fingers into you faster, mouth working in tandem.

his free hand moves, sliding up your body, and then he’s pressing those same cold fingers against your lips, smearing your own slick over them. “open,” nam-gyu orders. when you hesitate, he grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. his pupils are blown, his expression somewhere between cruel and wonder. “be good. taste yourself.” you part your lips, and he pushes two fingers inside, pressing down on your tongue. “good girl,” he drawls, before lowering his head again, tongue curling over your clit in quick, ruthless flicks. your moan is muffled around his fingers, eyes rolling back as heat pools low in your belly.

he can feel it inthe way your thighs tremble. he chuckles against you, low and mean. “gonna cum for me, baby?” he goads, curling his fingers for emphasis. “go on, then. make a mess.” and when you do, legs trembling, the moan breaking into a choked sob, nam-gyu doesn’t stop. just groans into you, drinking in every last drop, lips and chin wet with it. when he finally pulls away, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, grinning wolfishly down at you. “fuck… look what you made me do,” he muses, glancing down at the dark spot on his jeans. then he leans in, presses a languid, filthy kiss to your mouth, making sure you taste yourself on his tongue. “hope you’re gonna clean that up.”

CHOI SU-BONG eats you out like it’s his favourite pastime (apart from partying and taking drugs… or both) he’s got you spread out on the thin mattress, legs draped over his shoulders, knees shaking, and he’s barely even started. presses an open-mouthed kiss against the inside of your thigh, then another, dragging his tongue along your skin just to hear that little sigh escape your lips. “what, you nervous?” he taunts, looking up at you with that smug little smirk. “c’mon, señorita, i don’t bite—” his teeth scrape ever so lightly at the soft flesh. “—unless you want me to.”

and then he’s in, burying his face between your thighs like a man starved, tongue flicking against your clit before dragging down, teasing at your entrance, humming like he’s savouring the taste. and fuck, that little hum alone sends a jolt through you. he’s talking between licks, of course he is, lips slick and breath warm against your skin. “mhmm so good, fuck— could eat you for days.” then he moans, a low, satisfied sound as his tongue plunges deeper, and the vibrations make your whole body jerk. he’s insufferable, but he’s so good at it. alternates between deep, slow strokes of his tongue and quick flicks over your clit, gauging your every reaction. “that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “feels good, huh?”

you nod, or try to, but he’s already got a hand braced against your stomach, pressing you down, keeping you from arching up too much. su-bong looks up at you again, pupils blown open, mouth shining. “say it,” he drawls, before sucking your clit between his lips, tongue laving over it like he’s savouring something decadent. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and he groans against you, rutting his hips against the mattress. “fuck, you’re killing me,” he pants, but he’s grinning, breathless and wrecked. “gonna let me make you come, baby? bet you’ll look so pretty for me.”

he doesn’t stop talking, doesn’t stop licking, doesn’t stop anything until you’re shuddering beneath him, crying out as he works you through it, murmuring praises against your skin because he simply can’t help himself. and when you finally go limp, chest heaving, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. “damn,” he exhales, crawling up to kiss you, slow and filthy, making you taste yourself on his tongue. “wanna go again?”

KANG DAE-HO eats you out like he’s got something to prove—not in an arrogant show-off way, but in that eager, wide-eyed, desperate-to-make-you-feel-good way. his big hands are warm, gripping your thighs as he presses tender, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of them, he’s savouring you, like he could do this all night and still not get enough. and when he finally buries his face between your legs, he lets out this quiet, needy moan, his breath stuttering against your skin.

eyes flicking up to meet yours. he’s got that lovesick look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips wet. “is this okay?” when you nod, breathless, he smiles—sweet and a little bashful—and then he’s back at it, tongue flicking over your clit in careful, deliberate strokes, humming softly. he can’t stop making little noises, soft groans and breathy whimpers, like he’s the one getting worked up from this. his grip on your thighs tightens every time you let out a sound, and fuck, when your fingers tangle in his hair and tug—just a little—he practically whines against you, grinding himself into the mattress, he simply can’t help it.

“so good,” voice muffled as he presses his tongue inside, slow and deep. “so fuckin’ good, baby…” he pulls back just to glance up at you again, lips glossy, panting a little. “you—hah—you taste…” he trails off, shaking his head like words aren’t enough. and then he’s right back at it, sucking your clit into his mouth, moaning low in his throat when you buck up against him. thick fingers slide into you next, careful, coaxing, curling just right, and the sound he makes when you tighten around him— “please, wanna feel it—wanna taste you so bad—” he pants, pressing kisses to your thigh between kitten licks, fingers never stopping. and when you do—when you arch off the bed, thighs shaking—dae-ho just groans, holding you through it, whispering sweet praises between kisses, licking you through every aftershock. when he finally pulls away, cheeks flushed, he just grins boyishly up at you. “holy shit,” his voice thick with awe. “can we do that again?”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[qiyuearning]

IMAGINE . . . the lads LIs playing an otome game ?!

what would it be like if the love and deepspace love interests played an otome game in which YOU were the love interest instead? ⸺ heavily HEAVILY inspired by a thread on twt by @/Myaurxra_ on the same prompt!!

zayne who is strictly f2p. i cannot imagine this man spending money on the game. he occasionally plays during his breaks. he listens to the tender moments as background noise while he works. he has your affinity level at about 68 which is the culmination of many months checking in and mostly doing his dailies.

zayne who actually uses the ‘remind me’ feature to help him get some rest. nothing beats your sweet voice telling him he’s working too hard and that he needs to go to bed!!

zayne who seems like he’d be a very casual player who enjoys the sweet, soft cards. however, tomorrow’s catch-22 drops and he is a changed man!! <3

xavier who is somehow incredibly lucky without even trying?? he’s pulling your 5 star memories left and right, early pity. definitely posts his pulls on social media, which is the envy of everyone else.

xavier who enjoys the combat system the most. he clears abyssal chaos and the hunter contest with ease. it comes quite easy to him, the protocores, the substats, the playstyles.

xavier who only pays for the aurum pass, but that’s about it when it comes to his spending. he’s living off a hunter’s salary and can only offer so much to his virtual wife…

rafayel who is glint photobooth’s greatest enemy. he has all of your outfits and accessories unlocked. he didn’t buy those all for nothing. he’s spending hours on glint photobooth and snapshot, capturing your beauty just right. he’d post it on social media like the masterpiece you are <3

rafayel who actually takes the time to play the stories and read the lore. his assistant is calling him, but he couldn’t care less. he needs to know what happens next. he’s laying in bed, kicking around like a schoolgirl with a crush. he’s currently sobbing over your backstory and getting pissed off on your behalf when another character wrongs you.

rafayel who has your affinity level already maxed out. he’s flexing the ring on every outfit he dresses you up in. he’s cleared out all the story content there is to offer, besides the combat levels. he rarely plays the hunter contest, but he occasionally does abyssal chaos to read the stories and interactions.

sylus who is an absolute whale. we all know it. he is R3’ing all of your memories. lost a 50/50? doesn’t matter, his card is already out and ready to be used.

sylus who finds the game to be a rather endearing past time. you’re a welcome break in his busy day. luke and kieran will find him at his desk, looking rather amused as he pokes his phone for maybe the hundredth time tonight.

sylus who sends luke and kieran out to buy merch for him when he’s busy, sending them in his stead to fan events. he advises them to stop at nothing. online bid? he’s already won. limited edition merch item? he got it three weeks before it was even announced with his connections. on his desk, you’ll probably find a small acrylic stand of you by his computer.

caleb who actually has horrible luck. he has most of your standard 5 star memories maxed out, mostly due to losing so many 50/50s. at first he was like “psh. it’s just a game. i won’t have to spend any money.” but, then he lost the 50/50 on the anniversary banner and the flood gates opened. now, he’s willing to drop large amounts of money at a time if it means getting your precious memories.

caleb who takes full advantage of the ‘quality time’ feature. mostly to unlock your workout outfit, but he likes to have you cheering him on by the side while he completes his regimen.

caleb who gets oddly competitive during kitty cards? like he’s about to crash out the moment you cancel out one of his assist cards. his hands are gripping the phone, his palms are sweating, his breath is hitching, he’s grunting in frustration. someone looks over his shoulder to see what the hell is stressing him out so much… you just changed his teacup color from red to blue…