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I wanna eat him

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fahdurhood

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my take, on the apple art trend....heehee

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Unlike Suguru, Satoru never accidentally makes the room cold — he commits to it. Blasts the air conditioner like he’s recreating the arctic in your bedroom. He’s the kind of menace who sets it to 16°C, lies under three blankets in a hoodie, and waits. Because he knows exactly what’ll happen next.

You, shivering and fuming, stomp over to where he’s comfortably cocooned in the middle of the bed. Your arms are crossed, and your nose is scrunched in annoyance.

“Satoru. Why is it freezing?”

He grins, that wide, smug grin that spells nothing but trouble. Without hesitation, he throws open his blanket like a stage curtain. “Come on in, Princess. Your one and only personal heater is open for business.” He’s so whimsical you can’t help but chuckle, you wish he always stays the same.

You huff, rolling your eyes — but your fingers are already numb, and you know the second you crawl in, you’ll be warm. So you give in. Happily so. And the moment you settle beside him, he wraps around you like a human octopus. One leg hooks around your thigh, his arms pull you flush to his chest, and the blanket is immediately tucked over your heads like a fort. God, you love him.

“That’s it,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck, lips brushing your skin. “I’ve got you now. You’re trapped. No more complaints. Just Daddy and his Princess.”

You mutter something about how he’s the reason you’re cold in the first place, but he just chuckles, already smoothing his hands up and down your back. “You think I don’t know that? I wanted you to come cuddle me. I missed my Wifey sama”

Then come the kisses — loud, dramatic, all over your face. Forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, even your chin. He presses his warm palms to your cheeks and hums softly, like you’re his favorite bedtime song.

“You’re so warm now… see? Science works. Cold room plus Toru cuddles equals happy Baby.”

Eventually, your limbs relax, and your body sinks into his. You stop shivering, and all the irritation melts into sleepy comfort. Satoru softens too, rubbing slow circles over your hips and tracing gentle shapes on your spine.

“You always end up here,” he murmurs. “No matter what happens. You always crawl back into my arms.”

You think he might be falling asleep, but just as you’re about to close your eyes, he shifts slightly and mumbles against your temple:

“I’d freeze the whole damn apartment if it meant I got to hold you like this every night.”

And just like that, the chill fades — because wrapped in his warmth, tangled in love and devotion and kisses, you realize: there’s no cozier place in the world than Satoru Gojo’s arms.

Taglist: @strychnynegirl @womenlover4eva @aftercareandtoenailclippins @bakugoushotwife @graarabs @cherlouu @satorupied @jinjen @bbatzvil

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How I think lads men are in bed

this is my personal opinion, fandoms are fun spaces and I'll treat it as such, this is so unserious.

Sylus - gentle, vanilla (yeah I really think this man is into softer sex), soft dom, loves to give to his partner than receiving. I can also see him being into getting pegged

Rafayel - Rough. Not rough in the sense that he wants to hurt his partner, but he's passionate, very passionate. He's a dom leaning switch who likes to edge his partner A LOT

Xavier - Total Dom in my opinion, I don't really think he leaves scope for his partner to take control but he's definitely a pleasure dom, amazing for those who have praise-degradation kink

Zayne - Also a pleasure dom but I don't think he's as stringent as Xavier. He must be good with his fingers. I don't think he can sub, however, he will let you take the lead and still be in control.

Caleb - This man lmao, I won't call him a dom or a sub, he is just anything you want him to be because he's that down bad for his partner. You want to take the lead? He'll gladly oblige. You want him to lead and put you in a headlock as he fucks you? He's more than happy. You wanna peg him? He's spreading those cheeks

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭’𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫

-> yandere tyrant xavier x fem!reader (based on the current xavier’s myth) || genre: dark romance, dub-con, yandere, nsfw

warnings: possessive behavior, non-consensual impregnation (babytrapping), overstimulation, dub-con language and dynamics, isolation, size kink, creampie, petnames (princess, chosen one), mind games, manipulative comfort, lingerie mention (Divider credit: @/uzmacchiato)

word count: ~2,000

The wind outside howled against the stone walls of the high tower, but within the heavy velvet curtains and golden glow of the firelight, the world was quiet. Still. Too still. When the revanants urged you to slay the said Tyrant, you weren’t sure what exactly awaited you.

You sat by the hearth, dressed in soft lavender silk — a chemise too delicate to be anything but chosen by someone else, someone with power. The fire crackled beside you, but it did little to thaw the chill in your chest. You could still hear the songs and hymns sung in your praise while your heart fluttered, confusion and haze thickened in your mind like fog. You shiver.

The cold wasn’t from the weather. It was from being so far away. From home. From Philos. From everything that once made you feel free. And then if you add the blurry memories that stab you from time to time… it’s demented torture. It’s hell.

“You look beautiful like that,” came a voice behind you — low, silken, threaded with that slow, measured cadence that never failed to make your stomach twist. Xavier…

You didn’t turn to look. You didn’t need to. Sometimes you evade the harshness of his eyes, sometimes you want to match it like crest and troughs of the ocean waves.

Xavier moved like a shadow draped in royalty. Clad in black and crimson robes trimmed with gold, his dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and that gaze — gods, that gaze — burned with the kind of hunger that no tyrant should ever be allowed to possess.

“You’re quiet tonight, Princess,” he said, voice purring in your ear now as he moved to stand behind your chair. His hand slid across your bare shoulder, fingers tracing the strap of the silk. “Is the silence finally sinking in? Or are you still trying to run your mind galloping like a feeble mare?” Feeble… tsk.

You stiffened. “Help me go back.”

A pause. Then a snort, slow and indulgent. Xavier was usually a serious and stern man, but your presence made things light-hearted almost. He doesn’t want you to go back to Philos. That’s the last thing he wants.

“My Chosen One…” His lips brushed the crown of your head. “There is nothing left to go back to. Philos is ashes. And you? You’re somehow sent to me..” again. Again. Why would he let this chance go. Centuries of delirious and violent yearning had rotten his brain, and heart.

You stood abruptly, heart pounding. “I never chose this. I don’t even know who I am… I just have fragments of Philos in my memory—“

His smile was patient. And somehow twisted.

“No,” he murmured. “But fate did. And I simply obeyed its will.” Oh you… gifted to me with flesh and blood and life not waxing and waning like the moon.

With a snap of his fingers, the lanterns in the chamber dimmed. His evol, no doubt — his control reached every inch of the fortress. He circled you like a predator playing with his food, his metallic gloved hands tracing the marble pillars as he walked.

“You’ve been here for three weeks now,” he said thoughtfully. “Three weeks of warm soup, silk sheets, and me keeping my hands to myself. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?”

You swallowed, fists clenched.

“And yet,” Xavier continued, his gaze dragging over your body with unrepentant lust, “you still pretend like you don’t feel the bond that ties us together. Like you don’t ache when I look at you.”

“I don’t want you,” you snapped.

He was in front of you in an instant.

“That’s not what your body says when you cry my name in your sleep,” he whispered.

You slapped him. So he has been watching you sleep… deliriously… the hell. Yes, you do moan and sometimes scream his name. You see a different version than this cruel Tyrant. You see your lightseeker….

The sound echoed, sharp and defiant. Your breath came in fast bursts as the silence pressed down between you.

Xavier’s expression didn’t twist with rage. It softened. Darkened. The kind of expression only a man with absolute power could afford to wear.

“So we’ve reached that point, then,” he murmured. “You’re trying to punish me. Break me. Deny me.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, and even though you hated the warmth that flooded your core, you couldn’t stop the tiny gasp that left your lips. “I guess I deserve it, most of it. I made you feel abandoned at a time you don’t even remember.”

“Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll stop waiting for you to admit it.”

He swept you into his arms like you weighed nothing, ignoring your yelp, and laid you down on the massive four-poster bed, draped in red and black sheets. The same bed you hadn’t dared to sleep in yet.

Tonight, that changed.

“Xavier—” you began, but he covered your mouth with his own — a slow, possessive kiss that stole your breath and made your thighs clench. His tongue moved with cruel precision, coaxing your body to respond even as your mind screamed no.

“You can pretend all you want,” he growled, breaking the kiss. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. Heard the soft little moans you make at night.”

He pulled your silk chemise down, revealing your bare chest to the cool air and his greedy gaze.

“And I’ve waited long enough.”

You pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge. Meek and fragile. Almost pathetic. Almost like you wanted & yearned for it.

“You’re going to take this, Princess,” he whispered, “and you’re going to learn exactly what it means to be mine.”

He shed his robe slowly, deliberately — his broad chest and taut muscles bathed in firelight. His belt came next, and you turned your head, heat creeping up your neck in spite of yourself.

“Look at me.”

You didn’t.

He grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide, the silk riding up to your hips. You whimpered, both from the shock of exposure and the sheer power of his grip. It was sure to bruise at your thighs purple.

“Don’t make me bind you to the bed,” he warned, voice far too gentle to sound like an actual threat.

He slid his fingers between your folds, and you hated the way your hips lifted into the touch. A smug grin plastered over his face. “See? Pathetic and needy but you wouldn’t admit it would you?”

“Already wet,” he purred. “See? Your body knows who it belongs to. Wish your stupid mind could accept soon.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the sob building in your throat. He was too much — too big, too close, too certain. And too good.

And then he was inside you. Before you could blink, you could resist, or you could mentally prepare yourself to actually accept him. All your thoughts are numbed down.

He didn’t give you time to adjust — just slow, stretching pressure that had your back arching off the bed, mouth open in a wordless cry. He bottomed out with a groan, his grip bruising on your hips. Thick cock with veins eager with centuries of contained lust. You would be his broken doll tonight.

“Shh, Princess,” he whispered against your throat. “Let me fill you up. Let me make you a mother.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Somehow mingled with anticipation, too. You couldn’t even understand what you wanted at this point.

“No—Xavier, you can’t—”

“Oh, I can,” he said, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. “And I will.” His weight made the force of his thrusts delicious and delectable, thick cock scraping against your velvety walls. Over and over and over and over—

Each thrust was a claim — brutal, deep, consuming. He fucked you like you were a vessel for his legacy, like your body existed only to carry his heir. Like all the torture he went through needed an outlet. Like he finally can show you how crazy you’ve made him.

“You’ll be round with my child by the next few months,” he growled, his breath ragged as he fucked you harder. “No more Philos. No more running. Just you. Mine. Forever.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. But so did slick.

Your body betrayed you — hips rising, walls clenching, every overstimulated nerve lighting up. He felt it. Smirked.

“That’s it, Chosen One,” he murmured. “Come for me. Let me breed you properly.”

You tried to resist, but your climax hit like a storm — your back bowed, a broken sob ripped from your throat as your body spasmed around him. And he didn’t stop.

He kept going.

Over and over.

You lost count after the second orgasm. He flipped you on your stomach, lifted your hips, and drove back into you like a man possessed. Your legs trembled. Your vision blurred. m

“Take it,” he growled, voice low and animal. “Be good for your Tyrant. Isn’t that what I am? Your Tyrant Xavier who will annihilate everything on sight if it dares to take you away from me again.”

And when he finally tipped off the edge — with a deep groan and his seed spilling hot and thick inside you, he stayed buried there, holding your shaking body against his chest.

“You’ll carry our future,” he whispered against your ear. “You were born to. You came back to me for it. You’re my second chance.”

You sobbed once, exhausted, broken. But even then, he didn’t let you go.

He wrapped you in his arms and covered you both in the heavy crimson duvet. His hand rested low on your belly, possessive and warm.

“You’ll see, Princess,” he murmured as you drifted into sleep. “In time… you’ll thank me for this. All in due time.”

And even though you don’t understand Xavier’s feelings, even though you wonder what made him this way. When your memories would come back, maybe you’d be happy that your sparring partner is still by your side…

Taglist (Comment on the Taglist post on my Pinned for tagging): @kithyyy @dramaticalsachan @sheismaryy @freeprincesslove @litnerdwrites @whmnx @strawberrydragon24 @eve-rockin-blog @bakugoushotwife @santaluna @insidious-innocence @angstyfrog @lucreied

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Stsg

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rafayel shows you his tentacles and what they can do ♡

the bath was already full when you stepped inside—hot, slow-rippling, and rich with the scent of sea salt, moon orchids, and something deeper. something magical.

rafayel was already in the water, sunk low with his arms spread along the stone edges like he ruled this entire private onsen—and maybe he did. the marble shimmered with hints of opal and mother-of-pearl. floating candles hovered just above the water’s surface. it was the kind of place you’d expect to find a deity.

and he looked the part. loose, water-damp purple curls framing his smugly gorgeous face, magenta eyes shining like twin moons. his bare chest glistened in the steam, defined and glowing faintly with lines of luminescence trailing down, disappearing under the surface. you couldn't see what was below.

but you felt it.

something brushed your ankle.

you yelped, nearly slipping as you stepped into the water, and rafayel just grinned—sharp, boyish, amused. “careful, darling,” he purred. “wouldn’t want to fall too fast.”

“i already fell,” you mumbled, heart pounding as another soft, slick sensation circled your thigh under the water. “and you didn’t tell me you could do this.”

“do what?” he said innocently, as a translucent blue-black tendril slithered from the water and curled around your wrist, gentle but firm. “show you what i’m really capable of?”

you stared at it, breath catching. “that’s… you?”

rafayel’s grin widened. “all me.”

you swallowed. you were so not prepared for this.

you were also so, so intrigued.

you’d barely gotten comfortable in the deep water when the teasing started. a tentacle curled loosely around your waist, tugging you into rafayel’s lap with zero resistance. another coiled around your thigh again, but higher this time—slick and warm and deliberate.

he kissed you like he had all the time in the world. slow. wet. worshipful.

meanwhile, the tendril between your legs dipped a little lower. you gasped into his mouth.

“sensitive?” he teased, voice velvet-sweet. “i haven’t even started yet.”

“i didn’t say stop,” you shot back, breathless.

rafayel’s eyes sparkled. “oh, little pearl. you really shouldn’t have said that.”

the tentacle didn’t just plunge in. no, that’s not how rafayel’s ocean works.

it started by brushing against your folds—soft, slick, and impossibly warm—like the tide just gently licking the shore. you shivered, hips instinctively parting as it traced a slow, deliberate line down your slit, circling your clit with a pulsing rhythm that sent jolts straight to your core.

your breath hitched.

the wet tip pressed firmly at your entrance, not pushing… just holding, testing. you whimpered, nerves firing in delicious confusion, every inch of your body trembling with anticipation.

it pulsed again, a teasing heartbeat, as if savoring the taste of you, coaxing you to open wider.

your fingers dug into the bath’s edge, voice shaky, “rafayel…”

no answer, just the tentacle pressing harder—slowly, inch by inch—stretching you, filling you with a slick, heavy pressure that made your hips jerk involuntarily. it was neither cruel nor gentle, just… inevitable.

you swallowed a moan, a mix of discomfort and longing swirling in your chest as your body surrendered to the slow invasion.

and then it was inside, the full length of that thick, veined limb coiling inside your wet heat, holding you captive to the ocean’s dark pulse.

now you’re getting split open by two thick tentacles that pulse like they have hearts of their own—moving in perfect, punishing rhythm as you writhe in the steaming bath, every inch of your body wet, sensitive, and trembling.

they weren’t slim like you’d imagined. not really.

the one inside your pussy was as thick as three fingers at the tip and only grew from there. smooth at first, then textured—veiny and ridged, dragging along every fluttering nerve with each withdrawal, then slamming back in deep, filling you to the point of dizzy.

and he was watching. rafayel, your sea-god lover, was sitting pretty against the edge of the enormous sunken bath, not even touching you.

just smirking. like the image of you—eyes rolled back, drool slipping past your swollen lips, water sloshing around your hips as tentacles ruined you—was all he needed.

“look at you,” he purred, voice low and hot in your ear. “barely forming words. don’t even know what to beg for anymore, do you?”

you whimpered, choking on a sob as a third tendril slithered up from behind and curled under your ass, lifting your hips just a little more to give the others better access. you were floating, grinding, babbling now.

“s-so full, raf… nghh—fuck—m’gonna—!”

he grabbed your chin, forcing your watery gaze to his as your orgasm rolled over you. “you asked for this, little pearl. don’t you dare tap out on me now.”

the tendril on your clit was relentless.

it circled in maddening, wet spirals—alternating suction and swirl until your thighs were twitching and locking around it. your second orgasm hit quicker and sharp, high-pitched, your cunt spasming around the two still-pistoning tentacles inside you.

but instead of stopping… more joined.

one wrapped tight around your midriff, slick and pulsing, holding you in place while your body convulsed.

another coiled between your tits, pressing them together like a worship altar, wetly suckling at your nipples.

and one—fuck—one tapped against your bottom lip, nudging its way into your open mouth with teasing little bobs, fucking your throat light and shallow like it knew you’d choke on anything deeper. which you did. eagerly.

rafayel moaned softly, stroking your cheek like you weren’t stuffed with five limbs of his divine self. “so fucking perfect for me. look at you. gushing, gagging, glowing.”

the bathwater was soaked in your slick now, cloudy with cum and magic and arousal. you’d lost count of how many times you’d come.

when he finally pulled the ones inside you out, it was with obscene wet noises—shluck, squelch, squirt—as your stretched, fluttering pussy leaked a thick mess into the water. your inner thighs ached. your lips were numb.

you slumped forward against his chest, arms barely able to cling to him.

you were empty.

you were ruined.

and just when you were drifting off into floaty post-orgasm bliss…

you felt it.

something hot. solid. pressing against your hip.

you blinked, head lolling up, meeting his eyes.

“…you’re hard?”

rafayel gave you a sheepish, unbearably smug grin. “unfortunately,” he drawled, guiding your hand down under the water to feel the very real, very heavy cock still untouched between his thighs, “the tentacles don’t… sync. with this.”

you stared. slack-jawed. spit drying on your cheek.

“you’ve been—this whole time—?”

“mmhm.” he kissed your temple. “so. you gonna help me out?”

a/n: first time wearing for rafayel and ofc it’s tentacle porn

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Missing an artist you've never met nor ever will is a weird feeling </3

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Mr and Mrs. Qi

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𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 | Catch22!LADS

warnings: Tomorrow's Catch 22 alternate universe, allusions to darker themes (torture, kidnapping, stalking, mass terrorism, murder), the first of hopefully many (which will have darker themes, be warned), yandere!!

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── hermit (xavier)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── galen (zayne)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── tamino (rafayel)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── tartarus (sylus)

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── perses (caleb)

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V in suit with his smoking pipe….. A depressed man ;_;

Just a quick art study on rendering clothes!! I’d imagine this is a C&R suit Jumin gifted him or something!!

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Something I found on Twitter that really puts things in perspective as a creator.

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so women are supposed to grin and bear the books, the comics, the movies, the plays, the tv shows, the stories, the sci-fi, the translated ancient poems, the fucking millennia of men writing about their self inserts torturing women and it being declared as High Art by other men, we’re supposed to read it in our free time, study it in classrooms, include their styles in our own writing, accept their cultural influence as natural, watch it in the cinema, write about it, talk about it, accept it, aspire it, but men can’t tolerate three seconds of female wish fulfilment of a woman snapping the wrist of a creep without feeling personally kicked in the balls.

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quick meme redraw

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18+, SMUT

"You don't know, I've waited more than a lifetime for this.."

Rafayel spoke breathlessly, being apart from your lips felt agonizing even for seconds as if they were the oxygen he needed, his thumb traced your swollen bottom lip, coaxing him to go at it again but it wasn't enough to soften down the burden of lust that come of his yearning for you.

There was no exaggeration in Rafayel's voice or his words but seeing you giggle, taking it as a part of his mere poetic nature makes him smile.

Even as his eyes clouded with lust for the tempting invitation that you submit to your now husband—parting your legs with your dress bundled up in your fists, Rafayel still feels his hands shake when he uses them to caress your thighs, clad with lace stockings, wrapping you like a gift.

"You don't have to think so much, you can take me as you please, husband.." The man closes his eyes shut momentarily, letting the echo of his new title sink in. Husband, not a groom anymore. He nuzzles his face in the scorching warmth of your inner thighs, inhaling his wife's scent for all it's worth, you chew on your bottom lip, each action of his agonizing for your cunt that soaked your cute lacy panties transparent.

Your husband moans at the sight, his index and middle finger dipping in to take a feel, he had never seen you so sodden. "All this from only making out, my wife..?" Tease. He feels his chest swell with pride, pressing your thighs apart with a bruising grip, his teeth sinked into the cloth, pulling it apart to the side to have you at display, but Rafayel was never a patient man.

His hands, the same ones that skillfully painted each stroke of his masterpieces, tugged onto the flimsy fabric of your underwear, ripping it apart and out loud you gasp. "Rafa-" "I'll buy you as many as you want, I have my whole life for that."

And how could you say no when he was so passionate?

Your scent dizzied his senses, the tip of his tongue lazily lapped at your folds while his hazy eyes with burning pink bored into yours, he then pressed it flat, diving deeper—a hum buzzing through your core and your jaw fell slack at the sensation.

Throughout the night he touched you, it felt like he was remembering something he hadn't lived yet, waiting for centuries to have his hands on your divine body, to be one with you. The silks of your wedding dress and pieces of his suit littered carelessly on the floor.

Your trembling limbs are entangled together throughout the night, each rough thrust of his felt like atonement for being away for too long and he destroys you so tenderly, his face nuzzled on your cheek, his sturdy arm having your leg lifted up so he could stroke deeper, your bodies slick with sweat and your mixed cum gave Rafayel enough freedom to not be gentle, to claim his wife completely.

As you make love, you both fall into delirious fever, your body exhausted, sore but blissful regardless. Rafayel feels his abdomen tighten as he feels your cloying walls clamp down his sensitive cock. You look into each others eyes in a crazed desperation, his moans soaring with yours.

"I wanna cum inside you again...please, my wife.." He whimpers, his hips moving at an unsparing pace, making you cry out in ecstasy. Your husband kisses your tears away, holding your body so tight that it felt like a punishment to let go. Your consent being an eager nod as your eyes rolled back, too fucked out to speak coherently.

His orgasm felt almost violent with his vigorous thrusts, your breaths uneven while he took that opportunity to kiss your body down. Your husband sat on his haunches, taking your hand to his the finger with the rock on, you turned around watching him mischievously, softly shaking your ass to jest. Rafayel raised his brow in amusement, landing a playful smack before putting his entire weight on top of you, blowing a raspberry on your shoulder and you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"This time it's forever.." You softly spoke, turning around to tread your fingers in his dark purple locks, your voice carrying promise.

"Forever"