ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

baby, baby - ft. kinich

synopsis - mornings with ur boyfriend and his annoying lizard

includes - 0.4k wc, short and sweet, gross disgusting fluff, sfw

a/n - first fic, I really really hate this, no one talk to me I'm going to hide in a hole gulp

the natlan sun creeps through the curtains of you and your boyfriend's small, shared cottage, causing your eyes to slowly flutter open. your mouth feels dry as you wipe the dried drool on the corner of your lip, grumbling as you roll over, reaching for your boyfriend. yet, you only feel the slightly wrinkled silk of your sheets.

suddenly the bed feels colder at the loss of whatever contact you had fallen asleep with. kinich's your shirt draped over your body paired with sweatpants does nothing to quell the shiver on your skin. sure, you were used to kinich waking up first, but archons, did you hate it.

you sigh, sitting up before standing, your legs feeling like jello as you wobble to the living space. you enter to the sight of kinich wearing your pink "kiss the cook" apron, the one in which mualani got you as a gag gift for your birthday.

he swats ajaw away from the knob of the stove, the latter trying to turn it just to burn the pancakes kinich was working oh so hard to prepare for you before you woke up. but alas, it was futile.

you were awake.

and you were giggling.

his eyes widen as he turns his head back, just to see the smile that he loves so much. the one that constantly reminds him just how much he cares about you unlike any other.

"kinichhh!" you coo, rushing up to him and pulling his cheek. "you look so adorable!" you smile, showering his left cheek with as many kisses as possible.

he huffs, "it was supposed to be a surprise," kinich sighs as he glares at ajaw. ajaw simply shimmies away before disappearing, the effect of a few tiny pixels springing out from his departure. kinich sighs, seeing your stupid lovesick grin before moving the pancakes to a plate.

he spreads butter, syrup, and your preferred fruit onto the pancake, putting two small dollops of whipped cream on it soon after before using his fork to feed you a bite.

archons, the flavors just melt on your tongue. he's always been a great cook, but the way he cooks pancakes.. making the middle light and fluffy with a light crisp on the edge before perfectly topping it with precision, care, and love..

"yummy.." you sing, your arms wrapping around his neck. the morning ends with you two sat at the dining table, sharing a breakfast as you discuss your plans for the day with each other.

me and my roomie!

your roommate is obsessed with you! but you're hiding your own dirty little secret.

includes: nsfw! scara, tartaglia and bonus character separately, weird roommate behavior, use of their real names, weird reader behavior, tartaglia's is pretty long, fingering, begging, somno(?), pillow humping, missed tags. the bonus isn't as long as the other ones!

a/n: this was so much fun to write ! suzu helped me decide who to write for so the bonus at the end is dedicated to @hitomisuzuya !!

scaramouche!

"hey, i can't find one of my shirts can I go check your room for it?"

you give him a thumbs up as he makes his way to your door. now, he wasn't entirely lying, he was actually missing a couple of shirts! but, he knows you do all your laundry over the weekend, so your basket should be overflowing with dirty clothes by now. he does a quick check of the hall once more before shutting the door to your room. he's beelining straight for your pile of laundry. he starts rummaging through the trash like a raccoon but finally finds what he's searching for.

the cute panties you wear! the pair he'd stolen a week prior had lost your scent a while ago and it was starting to drive him crazy. he raises the newly acquired pair to his nose and he's twitching in his pants. but this isn't the place for that! it would be kinda hard to explain what was going on if you saw him bent over your laundry with a raging hard-on. so he quickly throws the old pair in and covers it up with the rest of your clothes. he shoves the new pair deep in his pocket before walking back to the living room, loosely announcing he didn't find it and heading for the kitchen.

the house is quiet when scara comes back. too quiet. his last class had been canceled, but you were free the entire day. so where were you? the house is usually filled with sounds of you doing something to keep yourself occupied.

it's the sounds that catch him first. they're..moans? they sound hushed, but they're definitely coming from his room. he peers through the crack in the door and the sight is truly one to behold.

there you are, small fingers tugging at your nipples as you roll your hips against the pillow, his pillow. that shirt he went to "search for" in your room? bunched up between your pretty lips as you try to stifle your whines. he's drinking up the scene, trying to etch this beautiful moment into his mind as hard as possible before clearing his throat.

his arms are folded and he's leaning against the doorpost. the corner of his lips twitch up as your eyes meet his. you're like a deer caught in headlights and his smile only gets bigger as you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out.

"well, i see where my shirt went."

"open," he commands as his hand grips your jaw. the heavy drop of saliva hits your lolled-out tongue before you swallow. he hums as he's sliding his leaking cock back into your warmth. eye rolling back into your head, you're gripping onto the sheets tightly as he starts ramming into you.

"you slut, fuck, riding my pillow like that, hm?"

the only response he gets is the soft cry of his name. every whine, every cry, and every moan just fuels him further as his hips connect with yours. his hands are pressing your knees to your chest so he can have the best view of your cunt.

"the minute my head hit the pillow, i would've known. you know why?"

you weakly motion toward his bedside table. specifically the drawer where he keeps his... mementos of you. it should've set him off how quickly you knew what he was talking about, but all you could feel was the way he twitched against your most sensitive spots. you're even going through his stuff now? it's just so fun to think about. how you'd peek over your shoulder at the door to make sure he wasn't coming; how your eyes widened when you spotted the contents of the drawer. did you run away right then? or did you press your thighs together because you finally know what he really is.

but you've done such a good job so far of keeping it quiet! so good. that he's going to breed you as a reward for how nasty you are! you're drooling so much at the thought! your hands are dragging one of his towards your throat as you beg him to fill you up.

"kuni, please-, wanna feel you so bad. wanna feel all of you!"

and it's those words that send him over the edge, spilling deep into you as he groans deep into your skin. that action sends you over, as you cum around his still sheathed cock. both of you are panting and burnt out, but he still finds the energy to trap you in a heavy kiss. you whine into his lips in pure contentment.

tartaglia!

ajax is the best roommate! he's funny, caring, and knows how to take care of the house really well. hell, he's paying for all the groceries and at some point he even started paying your portion of the rent!

to top it all off, hes so so sweet! he's planning movie nights, finding games for you two to play and helping you out in the kitchen as you make dinner. his big arms wrap around you as you doze off against his body while you favorite sitcom is playing in the background.

it's too bad it's all just a front though, because in all reality he's waiting for the perfect time to pin you down and fuck you so hard like he's been dreaming of all these months! he can't count how many times he's pressed his ear to the thin wall that divides your room as he pumps his cock to the sound of your voice as you talk to your friend over the phone. the actual conversation is none of his concern; just the way you speak, the way your voice drips out is tugging his orgasm out of him at full speed.

or the way you tempt him without even knowing it. those shorts you wear around the house that just barely cover the curve of your ass? he has to physically restrain himself from pressing you onto his crotch. with your nipples poking through the lightly colored tank top on your body. he's practically gawking at you shamelessly until you turn your attention back to him and he's giving you that almost genuine smile one more time.

he's scrolling through all the pictures he'd taken of you sleeping when the knock at the door whips him out of his trance. the sound had scared him so hard he squeezed his eyes shut! of course it was you. who else would be at his door at this hour? he refuses to answer as you call out his name through the wood. the door slowly opens anyways. he's asleep, you think to yourself as you pad across the floor towards the bed.

it's not new for you to crawl between his sheets like this. on the nights when you're feeling not the best, he always opens his arms (and blankets) to you! so it should be no different now that he's 'asleep'. he can feel your back press against his chest as you try your best not to wake him. he pretends to groan and does his own shifting around until his nose is nestled in your neck and one of his hands is around your waist while the other is laid on your hip.

everything is still for a bit. he savors the warmth emitting from your body and the scent of the shampoo you use overcomes his senses. until you start shifting around. you're probably just trying to get comfortable, but it's been going on for minutes and he's starting to get a little riled up. it seems almost calculated as you push back against him. he's not sure what to make of the sigh that leaves you.

your hand lightly clasps his and you guide it downwards. this can't be real. his body is so stiff right now, but he doesn't want to move in case you stop! with just a little bit of struggling, you managed to get his hand into your underwear. your hand finds the top of his as you move his fingers slightly further down. you're soaking wet, using the pads of his fingers to brush against your clit a few times.

your fingers are moving down softly once again as you push them into your hole. your breath hitches and you feel so good, so soft around his fingers. you're moving them in and out now, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. but you can only get them in so far before your own fingers are getting in the way.

this is short-lived as tartaglia harshly curls his fingers into you. you're gasping out an airy "ajax!" as he draws you farther into his body with his other arm.

"if you wanted my help, you could've just asked, cutie."

the way his voice is low in your ear makes you clamp around his digits as he finger fucks you. his lips are on your neck now, dutifully marking you up as you squirm against his body. he's grinding into you from the back as he finds that spot that has you arching and moaning out even louder. he's prodding at that spot now and your body starts to shake. the sensation of feeling you cum all over his hand has him spiraling and cumming into his own shorts. you're starting to relax against his chest once more, but he's turning you onto your front with his hard cock pressing against your ass. you gasp at how hard he is, and he takes the opportunity to slip the fingers the fingers that were in you into your mouth. he smiles as you start to suck on them. he's going to have so much fun with you tonight.

BONUS: aventurine!

another nightmare has him sitting up in his bed. he's reaching over to grab his water bottle because of how dry his throat is, but it's empty. he groans as he throws the covers off of him. his eyes widen as he hits the bottom of the staircase. there you are, fingers rubbing messy circles on your clit as your legs are spread across the back of the living room couch. you purr his name, his real name out so beautifully as your eyes are squeezed shut, lost in your chase for pleasure.

"enjoying yourself, doll?"

the voice has you shooting up from the chair. there aventurine stood, one hand on his hip, bottle in the other as he smiled slyly at you. his messy hair signified that he'd just woken up, but he still looked as beautiful as ever. he raises his hands up.

"don't let me stop your fun! keep going."

is all he says as he starts to make his way towards the kitchen. you meekly call out his name and he stops in his tracks, craning his head to the side to peer at you once more.

"help, please?"

his mouth may have been dry, but yours definitely wasn't. you're slobbering all over his length, the nasty sounds coming from you causing him to moan. as much as he loves the warmth of your mouth, he'd much rather experience your cunt. so he's pulling you off of him and signaling you to straddle him.

the stretch is ungodly as you slide fully down onto him. you're bending over to catch his lips in a wet kiss as his hands find the fat of your hips. you're rolling them now, nails raking over the exposed expanse of his chest as he fucks up into you slowly.

he's always hated his nightmares with a fiery passion, but he's willing to let this one go just for tonight.

I really like the way Giyuu thinks he can make friends with Sanemi is by just hiding red bean mochis in his sleeve and giving it to him whenever. I can just imagine Sanemi having a bad day and it gets 10 times worse when Giyuu comes around because he might think he's making fun of him

Pretty relatable tho I get it Giyuu I get it

Mountain Clash

Injured Kinich x reader

Summary: Kinich comes backs to you with blood pouring down from his temple, you tend to him (notes at the end).

————————————————————————

You sit on the ledge of the mountain, rubbing your eyes in slight exhaustion as the sun begins to rise. Just as you expected, Kinich is already up, practically swinging through the trenches and jumping from mountain to mountain. Agility and precision, those were always some of his best attributes. You were always amazed at how Kinich was able to pull his movements off. The grappling hook wasn’t your thing, but you enjoyed watching him use it.

He moved gracefully, showcasing just how much of a second nature to him it was. Not a care in the world crossed his mind at these times you presumed. As he disappears into the distance, you sigh and stand to your feet, stretching your limbs.

You usually stayed in your own home, yet you ended up tending to a nearby Saurian who had injured its leg. Once the aid was completed, night had fallen. Kinich was a close friend of yours, and deemed it dangerous for you to walk home in the dark. Before you knew it, you were sleeping next to him, with a complaining Ajaw beside you two. He must be with Kinich now you presumed, since your sleep wasn’t disturbed by any hurtful comments.

You were a bit uneasy about sleeping so high up, but Kinich gave you reassurance by explaining you had nothing to worry about. “The mountain is stable, you won’t fall off.” He reassured you.

No one would bother you two while you slept. Knowing Kinich’s reputation as a “cold hearted killer,” anyone with ill intentions would be too afraid to attack him. You knew nothing of that side of him. Of course he was cold in his personality, but you’re wise enough to know the lengths he would go for those he cared for, including you.

“Are you cold?” He would ask once seeing you either curl up or toss in turn in the middle of the night.

The sound of his voice accompanied by a set of drowsiness was soothing to you. You enjoyed whenever he checked up on you in the middle of the night as a result.

Although if you lied about how you actually felt, he’d catch on quickly.

“I’m alright.” You’d say.

Despite the Natlan heat during the day, the temperatures had a tendency to drop during the night. So without even asking, he got up and grabbed a thin blanket he kept for cold nights. He draped it over you gently. The thought of the event still makes you feel warm inside.

“You’re still here?” A voice sounded behind you, snapping you out of your trance as you tidied up. You drop your head in a deep sigh as you recognized the tone. “Begone!” Ajaw shouted as he got in your line of sight.

You ignore him, rummaging around in your bag for something as he spewed insults at you. At this point you were used to it.

“You freeloader! You really expect The Almighty Dragonlord—“ He stopped mid sentence as you held up something to him.

“Will this get you off my back?” You questioned with a sly smirk. In your hand was a pastry, one you knew Ajaw adored more than anything. His pixel hands snatched it from you without a word, only making a slight “hmph” noise in satisfaction as he flew away. You would’ve gave it to him last night, but saved it for when you knew Ajaw would come at you alone.

During the whole encounter, you had failed to notice that Kinich had returned. A smile enveloped your lips as you watched him diving into the more narrow trenches littered with sharp mountain pieces. A daredevil you thought.

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull your eyes away from the stunt. Kinich isn’t the show off type, so you knew this had to be apart of some sort of training. Yet with his jumps being so close to each sharp edge of the mountain, it placed fear in you. Those standalone pieces looked unstable to be landing on. He had to know that. Of course he knew that.

Deciding to turn your head away from your friend’s dangerous actions, you went back to tidying the area. Silent Ajaw hovered in the distance. You didn’t notice Kinich’s return until you heard a pair of boots land on the terrain near you.

“What the hell happened to you?!” Ajaw suddenly shouted from where he stood.

First confusion racked your mind, replaced then by a steady income of shock as you turned your head.

“What happened to you?!” You shouted, immediately walking over to Kinich who looked like he was attacked at the temple.

On the left side of his head was a heavy showcase of dark red blood which had soaked his head scarf. He looked out of it, yet still kept that expressionless composure. The only way you could truly tell something was off, besides the blood, was the way he seemed to have trouble standing upright.

“Did you fall?” You questioned as you grabbed him by his arm to support him. You sat him down on the spot he slept in quickly, while Ajaw begun his taunts, again.

“Did you fall on your head AGAIN you idiot?!” He laughed as you took a towel to Kinich’s temple. You pressed it against his skull, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. His body tensed in pain at the brief action, you worried whether or not he gave himself a concussion.

You held onto him by his shoulder as he winced, making sure he didn’t fall forward as you questioned him. “What happened to you?”

Your voice was filled with worry. He didn’t respond at first, taking an uncomfortable amount of time to register your words. Your worry increased tremendously as it seemed as though he tried to gather his thoughts first.

“I hit the mountain dodging a stray Yumkasaur.” He explained briefly as you gently removed the towel. He was still bleeding, and falling forward.

“Lie down.” You said as you moved your hand from his shoulder, placing one on his back, the other on the back of his head. Gently you laid him down on the soft surface, keeping the soaked towel pressed firmly yet lightly against his wound.

Ajaw continued to mock the dazed man, and you considered taping his mouth (which lacked a filter) shut.

You found another towel and pressed it over the original. You considered leaving to call for a doctor, but decided against the idea out of fear of leaving him alone. So with a worried face and heavy sigh, you continued to perform first aid to the best of your abilities.

The night had descended, and Kinich began to stir in his slumber. He can hear a conversation nearby, accompanied by the scent of seasoned meat. When he opened his eyes, he could feel the pain in his head. It was still present, yet it had decreased tremendously.

Turning his weak form in the direction of the noise of Ajaw, he spotted you two near an open fire. You were cooking…with Ajaw yelling at you. Kinich heard something along the lines of “that idiot” and “kicked the bucket,” words you yourself did not take kindly to.

“I don’t know how he puts up with you.” You muttered under your breath, Ajaw scoffed.

“He doesn’t have a choice!” Ajaw laughed.

“How do I know you didn’t set this up?!” You questioned in a rage. “Every chance you get you try to get him killed!”

“If only he would complete the job himself then—“

Ajaw went silent at the sound of noise, you turned in the direction he gazed upon. Kinich was sitting up, one hand on his knee as he watched the two of you bicker. The moment Ajaw’s mind had clicked that Kinich was up, he let out a frustrated groan. He had hoped that Kinich wouldn’t have woken up at all.

Springing into action, you ditched the spoon in your hand and moved over to him, delivering questions full of worry as you cupped his face.

“Are you ok? Why are you sitting up you should be lying down? Are you in pain—are you hungry?”

He had his gaze fixed on you, analyzing your face and its features. You were so close to him, closer than ever before as you examined him. Every question you asked was going through one ear and out the other. Kinich had a habit of getting lost while staring at you, yet it was always from a few feet away, never so close.

The color of your eyes, he always knew them, yet they were so prominent from this close proximity it caused him to flush. Your hair type, the color, it was mesmerizing. The way you looked at him, whether it was with a warm hearted smile or concern in your eyes, it made him feel protective over you.

“It’s healing.” You speak to him as you lift the bandage to take a look. “Are you dizzy? You should eat something.”

Kinich is silent as you turned towards the food you had prepared, taking a bowl to scoop the heavenly aroma into.

When he got a closer look, he realized you had made a stew from resources in the area.

“I tried with what I had.” You revealed, handing the plate to him.

“Thanks.” He spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with this.”

You smile at his kind words, watching as he mixed the soup in the bowl.

“We should visit a doctor in the morning.” You said as he began blowing cool air onto the steaming dish.

“I’m alright.” He reassured you nonchalantly before taking his first taste.

Your face twisted in utter confusion. You’re one hundred percent certain he almost crushed his head, yet he says he’s alright. “You bashed your head into the side of the mountain, I’m sure you’re concussed.”

The food was absolute heaven to him as he continued eating, mumbling words in between.

“I’ve fallen plenty times, you don’t need to worry.” He spoke calmly, only catching your finger in the corner of his eye before you poked his injury.

He drew his head back immediately with an audible groan from the pain.

“I’m taking you to a doctor.” You speak, no room for argument.

He’d never admit it to you directly, but he found your stubbornness for him cute.

————————————————————————

Tumblr, thank you for the love on my last Kinich fanfic, and for over 300 followers <3. I really appreciate it!

Anyway, high school is actually killing me and I get little to no free time. I was trying to get this out earlier but I’m still kinda late (I’m so sorry). Anyway…this is what I’ve been working on since before 5.0 dropped. Apologies for any incorrect info! I’m still catching up!

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time. 

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers. 

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason. 

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less. 

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone. 

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there. 

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?” 

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring. 

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles. 

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self. 

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.” 

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair. 

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face. 

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.” 

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again. 

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion. 

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.” 

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands. 

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool. 

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses. 

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef. 

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table. 

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does. 

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready. 

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off. 

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.” 

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for. 

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage. 

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?” 

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.” 

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy. 

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy. 

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are. 

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together. 

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it. 

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...” 

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached. 

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him. 

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say? 

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess? 

No way—that can’t be it, right? 

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor. 

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.” 

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox. 

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.” 

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend. 

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his. 

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.” 

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Satoru's Psyche|Teaser

"Now…would you say that human nature led me to this? Or am I a product of the cards I've been dealt?"

🗂️Patient File: Patient Gojo has been admitted to a specialized psychiatric hospital following a compulsive massacre and assault on the city of Shibuya|Causes/triggers that led to the patient’s mental decline and subsequent carnage in Shibuya are currently speculative; however, they are suspected to be linked to a prolonged period of confinement within a cube-like structure. Information regarding the mechanics of this structure and the patient’s history remain undisclosed to the ward and the public.  🩺Job Description: You are the only nurse in Tokyo—specifically assigned by an unknown secret society related to the patient—who is able to manage and care for patient Gojo. His violent and erratic behavior has left multitudes of staff members in shambles and disarray as he quickly disposed of them one after another. But for reasons unknown—a complete mystery to yourself as well—you have somehow managed to cross Gojo's barriers and earn his approval to be his one and only caretaker. Your duties include: daily routine patient care, observation and monitoring, therapy, adherence to protocol, and thorough documentation to be directly reported to the Director at the end of every shift. Be wary: Patient Gojo exhibits characteristics consistent with an extensive history of manipulation, obsessive behavior, and charismatic engagement. The patient's ability to charm and manipulate requires that staff be particularly cautious about their own psychological well-being. Exercise heightened emotional regulation and remain professional at all times to ensure that personal feelings do not affect judgment or quality of patient care. 📋Length of Admission (w.c): 10 unpredictable intervals 💊Intake Chart (tags): Patient is prone to: sporadic fits of violence; manipulation; flirtatious conduct, verbiage, and assault; over-obsessive tendencies; fluctuating attachment styles, narcissistic dialogue, and an insatiable compulsive urge to [REDACTED]. 🏥Orientation: August 14, 2024

doctor's angel's note: - Check the acknowledgment box (like) - Forward your copy (reblog) to accept this position. - Sign below (comment) to subscribe to the patient's weekly updates (tag list). S/O: @blkkizzat for the teaser inspo|Check out their teaser of the juicy, delectable Yakuza!Toji x Reader story that I cannot wait to get my hands on, The Nursery

nsfw gamer!perv!mean!neighbor!scara x fem reader. fingering, oral(m recieving), scara is obsessed w readers lips and eyes(you'll see), unprotected sex, idk what else but have fun kekw I'm literally writing part two of this cus I have an ideaaaaa

your back is pressed hard against the wall. the yelling from the front the side of the weak drywall is from your neighbor, scaramouche. it was normal, from what you’ve heard, he’s always playing games. and he rages. hard. the way he yells out comms to his teammates and curses them right after for fucking up is a common occurrence on your apartment floor.

to be honest, you hadn’t even seen him for the longest time. just the way his mocking, sexy tone spits at an opponent when he takes them down. you would bang on the wall a little, and he would quiet down for just a little while before yelling out again.

that was until about a month ago. it was late. you were slightly buzzed, but not enough to take you out of your senses when you crossed paths with the purple-haired man. you're fumbling with your keys, dropping them as he passes you by with a snort. you retort, telling him to stop laughing! nothing was funny, you were really struggling here! he raises his arms in mock innocence. he never said it was! stop assuming things you don’t know.

you pout. it's cute, he thinks. so when you do manage to pick your keys up after much struggle, he hums to catch your attention. he motions for you to follow him, and you do. you don't even know why, but who wouldn't follow such a pretty man if they were in your shoes?

"just sit here. maybe when your eyes and brain start working together again, you'll be able to get back into your own home."

the noise you make in retaliation has jolts of electricity traveling to his ears. it was light, high pitched. almost a whimper. he shakes his head and makes his way towards the kitchen. when he returns with a glass of water, you're passed out. scaramouche rolls his eyes and hooks his arm underneath your legs so he can lay you down. he's watching you closely, the rise and fall of your chest, the soft breaths escaping from your parted lips. those lips...but he decides to hold off on what the devil on his shoulder is telling him to do.

when he wakes up, there's a thank you note on the spot you were asleep in the night before. the cup he placed for you is empty. he picks the glass up, pressing his lips onto the mark your lipstick left on it.

after that, you became a literal thorn in his side. you always seemed to catch him whenever he was coming back from whatever he was doing. you're texting him to shut up while he's on the game, or sitting in his living room with him while he watches the stupid show you put on, just like this time.

but someone calls you. unknown number? ah! it was probably for the delivery you had. so you excuse yourself and step out of his home. five minutes pass. then ten. it's weird. not that he cares, but shouldn't you be back by now! so he goes to look. your door is cracked open just the slightest bit, so he lets himself in. it's not new, he's always showing up unannounced anyway. he's padding his way to your room and he sees you with a.. pc?

yeah! your pc! you explain to him that you've been waiting for it to come so you can start building it.

"you want to build a pc?"

he doesn't actually mean to laugh. but it's almost absurd. even he almost broke his in a fit of rage while trying to get it working. what makes you think you can do it all in one sitting? but you rebound quick. telling him to fuck off so you can get to work. he picks a nice spot on your bed, facing the desk and floorspace you choose to work with while he lays back. when you glance up, the way he's looking down at you has you writhing. like a predator studying its prey before it pounces.

maybe he was right. this wasn't easy at all! why would you even subject yourself to this? he's stifling another laugh when you groan out in frustration once again. you're practically whining his name out as you're asking for help and he chooses to ignore the twitch in his pants as he drags himself towards you. rather than joining you, he's placing himself on the desk chair and bringing what you've done up to the desk. he looks around a bit, going between the manual and the semi-built contraption before asking you to hand something over. even though you didn't get as far as you wanted, he hates that he has to admit you did a hell of a good starting job.

"you're not gonna take it apart?"

he shakes his head as he looks down to answer you. or, he was going to. but the way you're perched up on your knees, big eyes staring up at him has his voice catch in his throat. he turns back to continue working, but a thought crosses his mind.

"pass me that screwdriver over there."

it's far, so you place your hand against the cold floor and stretch over. he almost moans at the unadulterated view of your ass, tiny shorts riding up as you reach out. you hand it to him and he can't even remember what he needed it for! but he shoves it in anyway so he doesn't look like a complete idiot.

after what feels like forever, the monitor runs without an issue! the breath of relief followed by a long drawn-out thank you is all that he hears. you're still on the floor, so you lean your head against the side of your chair. but the way he purrs your name out has you craning your head up to meet his gaze.

he's looking at you with that look again, and you can't find the strength to push any words out. his lips curl up before he speaks.

"now now, you can't let me go without giving me a proper thank you, hm?"

those pretty lips of yours are wrapped tight around his cock. the grip he has on your hair is so tight, almost bruising as you drag yourself up and down his length. he doesn't hide the way he groans, eyes trained on you as yours are squeezed shut, trying so hard to take all of him.

"fuck, always knew-ah. always knew this mouth would feel so fuckin' good."

his words are practically yanking the arousal out of you as you whimper against him. he hisses at the vibration, shoving himself deeper into your throat as you tighten the grip you have on his thigh.

"look at me.."

and you're just so fucking gorgeous. your cheeks are red, lips swollen around him. your tear-filled eyes threatening to spill as he fucks into your mouth now. his eyes never leave yours. they cant. it's that cute face of yours that sends him over the edge, hips still bucking up as he tries to ride the high out for as long as possible. when he finally frees your mouth, your labored breaths bring his attention right back to you. you were the one supposed to be "thanking" him, but he couldn't leave such a pretty thing like this.

which is why you're laid up between his legs, cunt getting abused by his slender fingers while his other hand tugs at your nipples. his palm is pressed flat against your swollen clit as he pumps those two fingers in and out at a delicious pace. he's curling his fingers at all the right spots, the heel of his palm pushing down at just the right moment that has your body spasming under him. tsk. he didn't even get to fuck with you a little before you came. but it's good to know how sensitive you are to him.

he shifts out from behind you so you can lie fully down. in a second he's on top, lips harshly catching yours in a rough kiss. the way his tip pokes at your entrance has you gasping into his mouth. he quickly slides his tongue into your mouth before pushing into you.

the way he fingered you is nothing compared to the stretch of his cock. he's much thicker than you anticipated, and when he finally bottoms out, the warmth of his breath and the closeness of his body have your eyes falling shut. you can feel everything. every vein, every twitch. the way his breath hitches when you unconsciously squeeze down on him. but that won't do. not at all. his hand finds your jaw in a strong grip.

"look at me when i fuck you."

so you open your eyes. his eyes are hooded, gaze heavy as he pulls out of you slowly. but the force of the thrust has you arching off the bed. he keeps it like that, hitting you fast and hard so that the only thing you can cry out is a mess of begging him not to stop. his free hand finds your hip to raise you up slightly and that change of angles has you seeing stars. your fingers are bunching the sheets as his name falls from your lips over and over as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

your breath becomes more jagged, your hand moving to grip the wrist that was still holding your face. you're whining about how close you are. his grip tightens and raises your head up slightly to give you one instruction. cum.

and you do. it's heavy on your body, broken sobs and moans leaving you as your eyes roll back. the warmth around his cock mixed with that expression is sending him spiraling too, releasing straight into you. the last thing you remember is his lips on the side of your face before you drift off into a much-needed slumber.

part 2 here!

『 First Time 』

☼ synopsis: You're the serpent hashira's first.

☼ character: Obanai Iguro

☼ wc: 2.9k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, no dynamics, virginity loss, experienced reader, handjob, mutual masturbation, oral (reader giving), cum eating, fingering, creampie, slight overstimulation

☼ Kinktober masterlist

Being with Obanai was an experience itself, every time you made it over one wall around his heart, you found yourself facing another one. It's not that you minded it, you would climb and tear down thousands of walls over and over again if it means having him in your life. The first time he dared to kiss you was the first time you stayed the night at his place, the room pitch black and any source of light long erased before he took his bandages off. He felt so stupid for behaving like this but he didn't want to risk losing you, he just couldn't. His cold hands were holding yours so you wouldn't cup his cheeks when his slightly chapped lips gently locked with yours. It felt as if a ghost was kissing you, a touch barely there. “Nai… I won't break,” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away ever so slightly. The shuddered breath against your lips broke your heart, his nerves clear on display because he knew you could be able to feel the scars if he moved in any closer.

Little did he know when morning came and the smallest specks of sunlight illuminated his face you could see what he was hiding behind the bandages that were now shifted and you found yourself staring. Uneasy at the feeling of being watched he woke up, the blood in his veins freezing when he felt the morning air hit his bare skin and saw your eyes on his face. His first thought was to cuss you out, to shut you out of his life but these thoughts evaporated when your soft thumb gently caressed the long scar on his right cheek, your face coming closer to his. “You don't need to hide from me… you're beautiful, Obanai Iguro,” you whispered and the next thing he knew were that your lips were back on his. How could you say such things? Didn't you see how disfigured his face was? But his racing mind had no choice against the love you showed him, tender lips locking with his, your hands cupping his cheeks and once you pulled away you looked at him as if he put the sun and all the stars in the sky just for you. His heart skipped a beat when he realized just how much you feel for him and that you accept him the way he is.

The relationship moved slow and steady and you never once pressured him into anything he's not fully comfortable with, always asking consent before holding his hand or kissing him and most importantly, you let him initiate new things so he wouldn't get uncomfortable. The first time his tongue danced across your lips took you by surprise, but you gladly let him enter, swirling your tongue around his as the kiss grew more intimate and his grip on you became more desperate. He wanted to be closer, bodies next to each other and touching wasn't enough. Every pore of his body was screaming for you, yearning for your love and gentle touch but he pulled away - not allowing himself to have you, not yet at least. Your body felt like it was on fire, yet you didn't stop him from retreating since you knew that giving his body to you entirely takes so much of him and he's simply not ready for it yet.

When he allowed you to touch him for the first time it was once again pitch black, the darkness giving him some security because you wouldn't be able to see him completely. Your hand slowly traveled down his lean body until you reached the hem of his pants, the bulge you grinded against while making out moments before so prominent beneath the fabric. Despite his well controlled breathing he struggled to do so this moment and you hesitated to reach into his pants - did you change your mind? Did you realize he's not good enough for you? His mind was racing once again and you leaned your head onto his shoulder

“Nai…Breathe,” you reminded him, feeling that he was holding his breath for a while now and only when he exhaled shakingly, you caressed his abs again.

“We don't have to-” you began but he bucked his hips towards your hand. “I need you to,” he whispered, fearing that any other volume would tear this moment apart and he hated to admit how his body was screaming for your touch.

You nodded silently and breathed in his scent before kissing his neck gently, your hand slowly disappearing into his pants and a little strangled “ngh” escaped his lips when he felt your hand stroke over his hard length for the first time. Unsure what he even imagined it to feel like, it exceeded his imagination, the feeling his own hand gave him couldn't be compared to yours. Smiling against his skin you smeared his pre cum over his tip before pumping his shaft with a little pressure at a slow pace. Obanai’s slender hands clutched onto the sheets at the feeling, jaw tensing up as he tried to hold any noises back but you could hear him pant hard - cock twitching after mere seconds of your touch and you retreated your hand.

“Nai… could you take them off?” You whispered into his ear, not wanting to stain his pants from making him release within their confides but he shook his head “it's enough,” he mumbled back, not wanting to get you dirty with his cum, you deserved better.

You wanted to protest, to give him the sweet release he craved and also earned but you respected his boundaries and simply cuddled up to him, the wetness between your legs not important. Patience was the key and when he's ready to bring you pleasure he would let you know, until then you would just touch yourself silently in the bathroom so he won't notice and feel bad about it - he knew though but he never brought it up, unsure how or if he could pleasure you properly.

Giving him handjobs became more and more frequent and sometimes he finished it himself, not allowing you to please him to completion just yet. One day you had a small idea and gave him a little smile instead of letting your hand wander down his body like so many times before

“Can you touch yourself for me? This time without anything on?” You asked curious, wanting to see his reaction and he surprisingly nodded, slowly undressing you but he couldn't hold your gaze when he opened his pants so you reached for his hands, gently kissing them.

“Wait. Let me just-” you hummed and turned to stand behind him, back to back as you took your top off as well, skin touching skin now and you could feel the goosebumps erupt on his skin from feeling you this close.

“We can stay like this and just touch ourselves, yes?” You suggested, always making sure he was okay and the next thing you felt was how he lifted his hips ever so slightly to take his pants off, now sitting bare behind you which made you follow suit.

Obanai was the first to initiate it, his slender hand wrapping around his pale cock and slowly stroking it up and down just like you always did for him. The previous make out session left you drenched, almost grinding yourself to completion on his bulge but you didn't want to tease yourself further, eager fingers dipping to your core to gather some slick before rubbing your fingers over your clit. The sweetest noises escaped your mouth when you could feel your lover leaning against you for support, the slick noises of your fingers curling inside your velvet walls almost driving him insane with lust until the knot in his abdomen snapped, releasing over his hand with a strangled moan, letting you follow suit as you came around your own fingers, your other hand rubbing your clit in fast circles as you moaned his name. Hearing his name moaned like this let the blood freeze within his veins, but it would be his new favorite noise of yours, letting him hear just how desperate you are for him as well.

“Can I turn around?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper as he gave you a noise of approval in return, feeling your arms wrap around his upper body only a second later and you slowly reached for his right hand, kissing his shoulder.

“You're so beautiful Obanai… so perfect,” you hummed into his ear as you brought the cum covered hand closer but he locked up, not letting it close to you.

“Let me taste you… I promise it won't harm me,” you reassured him and he gave in, not wanting to deny you anything but his head fell back against your shoulder when you took two of his fingers into your mouth, your tongue working over them as if it would be his cock. Once they were all clean you pulled away with a lewd pop, hiding your face in his neck right after when you saw the blush on his cheeks, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Maybe next time he would allow you to fulfill that fantasy of his.

These little moments went on until he was comfortable enough to face you while you gave him a handjob, eventually allowing you to wrap your soft lips around him and he swore that if a heaven existed, he made it there in these moments. His hips were bucking aimlessly as you bobbed your head up and down his length at a fast pace, one of his hands clutched over his mouth to keep the noises at bay while the other held onto the sheets for dear life. The twitching of his cock let you know that he was close and every time you could feel the anxiety rise up so you looked up into his eyes as you soothingly ran your hands over his thighs, nose nudged against his pubic bone and it did the trick for him. Seeing you so cockdrunk from giving him pleasure let the butterflies in his stomach go wild and he released down your throat as the softest groans escaped his lips. He didn't mean to buck his hips further in your face but it felt so good when you swallowed around him, he just couldn't get enough when his mind started to wonder how tight and warm your cunt would feel around him. A twitch of his cock made you pull away, your saliva slowly running down from his tip to the base.

“Do you want me to go on?” You asked slightly surprised since he wasn't so eager for more after he came, far too sensitive and growing reserved again which you respected. He nodded in response, trembling hands pulling you onto his lap by your hips, staying there to hold you tight and you got what he wanted, smiling down at him.

“You sure about that?” You asked just to confirm your suspicions and earned another nod, followed by a soft but firm “yes”

Gently you took one of his hands and guided it towards your mound and let go again. Obanai stared up at your eyes, looking a little lost and unsure how to proceed and if it would be any other time it would have made you giggle but you didn't want to ruin his newfound confidence in physical intimacy.

“You saw how I touched myself… Can you do it for me? It will make it more pleasurable to take you after,” you explained, parting your legs a little further to make it easier for him to reach your dripping wet cunt.

He gulped but nodded, the image of how you rubbed your clit before two of your beautiful fingers dipped into your core was burned into his mind and he recreated your movements as if it's second nature. The way he massaged your clit in circular motions made you gasp, grinding your hips against his hand to get more friction but he got the hint, giving you exactly what you needed. Obanai might be inexperienced but he observed your reactions to everything, taking mental notes on what made you moan louder as he slowly pushed two slender fingers into your heat, moaning in sync with you.

Your velvet walls were so tight around his fingers already, making him wonder how he would fit inside of you. A spongy spot within your core took his attention when the pads of his fingers pushed against it, letting your moans raise in pitch and taking him off guard out of fear he hurt you but the way you clenched around his fingers let him know otherwise.

“God you're so good at this… I'm so close,” you mumbled mindlessly between moans and it fueled Obanai's need to get you to come undone from just his fingers as he repeatedly curled his fingers against your sweet spot. The moment he brought his thumb down to play with your clit, it was over for you, your walls spasming around his skilled fingers and his name falling off your lips like a prayer. He almost came untouched by the angelic sounds you made, making him love his name as he watched your orgasm take over your body only to slide his fingers out of your tight cunt when you’d calmed down.

With a curious expression he brought his hand closer to his face, your slick almost dripping from his fingers as he pushed them past his own lips to taste you, just like you tasted his seed. His pupils blew wide and he groaned when your arousal melted against his tongue like silk, never having tasted anything so divine and he knew that he wanted more, growing hungry for your sweet release but you snapped him out of these thoughts, seemingly reading his mind.

“Another time, Nai… do you want to-?” You asked quietly, hoping he didn't change his mind because you needed to feel him inside of you. Once more he nodded, confirming that he wanted more as you positioned yourself above his achingly hard cock before holding his shaft to line him up. He took a deep breath when his tip touched your folds for the first time and despite wanting to hold back on his noises, a desperate “ngh” escaped his scarred mouth when you lowered yourself onto his dick. You placed his hands on your hips so he could take control, unsure how slow you needed to be but he pushed you down in just one thrust, fearing he would die if he couldn't be inside of you entirely. The harshness of this thrust knocked the air out of your lungs and you fell forward into his arms.

“Hmm just like that," you encouraged him when he began to thrust erratically, the slight curve of his cock letting him hit just the right spots inside of you and the strength his thrusts held pushed you to the edge once again.

Obanai had to flip you over, needing to rut into you as if it's the last thing he would do. Desperate for your moans, struck by the love you held for him, he came unexpectedly, the tight heat of your velvet walls far too much for his virgin cock to handle. His eyes were screwed shut as breathless moans fell from his mouth, making him look ethereal above you, the dim light illuminating him just right.

It didn't matter to you that he came early, not having expected for him to last long during his first time but it clearly bothered Obanai who brought his hand between your bodies that were glistening with sweat so he could rub your clit once more. “I need to feel you around me,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck, overstimulating himself by staying inside of your pussy but it was all worth it when the knot in your abdomen snapped a second time, your back arching so beautifully against him as your cunt fluttered around him, milking him of everything he had to give. Your orgasm was enough to trigger another one of his, only able to pant and whimper into your neck as he fell apart, eventually just resting his weight on top of you.

Gently your arms slithered around his slim frame, enjoying to have him this close for once before it got too much for him, having to excuse himself from your embrace, still needing to get used to being held for an extended period of time but you didn't mind, simply kissing his shoulder before getting up, his seed slowly running down your thighs in the process and the view sent a shiver down his spine at the thought of having released inside of you. He didn't mean to taint you with his cum but he knew that you would have wanted it that way so he gave it to you.

“Are you coming? I drew a bath,” you called out from the bathroom, hoping you could soak your sore body in the hot water with your lover together. He sure was inexperienced but his will to be enough for you sure made up for it.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

Basically how my hypersexuality got me

basically . . .

Childe has been slain