#How to Lose Weight in Your Face

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[canisalbus]

cursed no tattoo machete (I'm sorry for doing this to him)

.

[youandthemountains]

it probably is insane how much I wish I could express the thing about spones. the vibes about spones. Like there's the joking fun fandom vibes and I love them, I love to play with them, of course of course. but the THING. the CORE to me. i wish i could capture it and share it.

[seventh-district]

.

[mars-ipan]

still insane to me how ppl pretend fatphobia is about health only to continue to be fatphobic when someone gains weight or even just looks somewhat fatter as a result of improving health

[acourtofquestions]

“He'd deceived her, had lied to her. This man who she'd believed held no secrets between them. She didn't know why it made her want to shred everything within sight.”

— cause um… as you just said Miss Manon YOU CARE (& it’s even giving Chaolaena vibes in the I CARE way)… so like all I’m saying is you love him duh?

[serpentine-sweetheart]

one of the biggest critiques I have of the kink community is they always have to put one body type that they find less attractive down. like... it doesn't have to be skinny bitches or fat bitches. maybe you can just appreciate someone's body and have a preference while being compassionate towards the other. you don't have to find someone attractive, just don't be a dick. shit.

[patron-saint-of-emesis]

todays concepts to grapple with are “accept Done over Perfect” and also “change is an inevitable constant”, both are very good sentiments that will better my life when i accept them, but it also means not restarting my crochet project and to stop staring at my face so hard in the mirror, and ima be real both of those r suck

[adulthumanproblem]

God just people going "I don't want to sin/be tempted" when asked if they want chocolate...

My classmate made a New Year's resolution of not eating ANY sugar, not even fruits. He was the most annoying and miserable man for weeks, until he obviously stopped

It's really terrifying and sad how prevalent eating disorders are and how accepted as well

dude not to be a bitch but starting my new job and spending every day surrounded by normies is really giving me a good long look at how fucked up the rhetorical landscape surrounding food and fatness is. the other week i overheard a guy confidently saying that the body doesn't actually require sugar and that if it wasn't for our dastardly perfidious taste buds we'd never crave it(???). just now my manager showed me this video of some dude scaremongering about pringles by saying that their ratio of sugar/salt/fat is CALCULATED to TRICK THE BRAIN into WANTING MORE. bitch you mean they made an effort to make their commercially produced snacks taste good? somebody phone the fucking fire department

[edensrose]

𐔌 𖹭 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 ˖ ࣪✧

ᡴꪫ. part 2 & oral, curse gave him accidental aphrodisiacs oh nooo 𖹭 f. reader ˖ ࣪ꮽ˳

˖ ࣪ 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. ۫ ۶ৎ the reception for part one was pretty good so I made this a lil longer. eat up ૮𐔌ᡘ ´ ˘ `๑꒱ა !

satoru gojo still won't let you suck him off.

you're on plan f after yet another failed attempt of tending to his morning wood. or maybe it's plan g if you include your attempt at sixty-nining? maybe plan h for thinking handcuffs could hold him? your pussy's still aching after that one. you're starting to lose hope.

but who thought help would come in the form of overworking and curses. two banes in your relationship with the strongest sorcerer — ended up being the ace up your sleeve.

the front door shuts. you brace yourself for warm arms and hearty kisses all down you neck. instead - slump. a sudden weight nearly bucks your knees and you push back to stabilise.

"satoru?" your eyes flutter wide and you spin to the boneless mess that is your boyfriend. blindfold pushed further into tousled hair. no grin, only a low pout. his face warm, bright pink. blue eyes like murky oceans as his forehead slumps into yours.

you don't quite notice the tremble on his lips, or the hitch of his breath when you press closer.

"baby . . . "

"oh toru, you look exhausted."

your tender hands become his sanctuary. his face buries into them while you stroke your thumbs along his cheekbones. dinner would have to wait, your boyfriend needs a shower and sleep.

he's panting, he must be beyond fatigued.

it's what he adored about you; how you took care of him. he — a behemoth next to you, and yet you so dutifully ushered him into the bathroom, helped him into comfortable clothes and laid him on his side of the bed.

"I'll be right back, yeah?" your hand strokes through his hair to lay a kiss on his forehead, before you're off. so blind to the way his fingers thread along your shirt's hem as you part. almost pleading, needing.

satoru groans and tucks his face into the pillow. he feels every breath, every twitch. it's far too warm in these four walls for winter. he just showered but his skin feels clammy. the air in his lungs shallows.

your pillow - your scent. that expensive floral perfume he insisted on buying for you. it does more harm than good. he barely even realised that he'd slowly, sloppily shifted it between his legs. one small roll of his hips devastated him. his head falls into the sheets. another groan. this is torture. how is he already so hard? how is he already throbbing into the fluff —

"toru?" that soft voice will be the death of him. he shakily casts a glance. tries to mouth an apology and fumble your pillow away, but you're over him in seconds. "are you okay? what's going on?"

so understanding. so caring. his throat bobs as he melts into your weight on his back and the thumb on his cheekbone.

"really weird curse today," another throat clear. "so tired. fuck, I didn't realise it even hit me. just feel s'hot, baby. so hot." as if he wasn't sorry for it in the first place, his hips stutter on your pillow again.

it clicks. how glad you are he isn't facing you. the grin you muster is both parts evil and mischievous. as if you cherry-picked the curse on his latest mission. perhaps the universe really is on your side.

"so hot, toru? let me help . . ."

his eyes snap open wide. he knew the second he felt your sneaky palm cupped over his bulge, he just signed his soul off.

and right now? he's too weak to fight you on it.

head tossed back. white strands strung over his sweat-glistened forehead. the pink dust painted into a hot, red blush over his face. every second breath warrants a gulp. wrists tied - frankly loosely - to the headboard. it didn't matter. satoru gojo didn't have his strength in this moment.

"shit - sweetheart - hah." your tongue traces on the lithe bump just below his cockhead. your lips join the mix in a slow suckle. coating his dick in gloss with every tentative movement of your mouth.

you giggle as his hips buck. nimble fingers squeeze around his dick's base you can just barely wrap your hand around. "yeah? you were depriving yourself of this all along, you know."

you smooch a sweet kiss to his tip. slow, sensual, before you start sucking down. from the angle you witness his pretty blue eyes flutter rapidly and nearly roll back. muscles tense as he tugs on his binds. how easy it would be to snap them. if every inch of his body didn't feel on fire. if every little lick and suck didn't have him spilling like a fountain.

"don't . . . 'ont, baby." he struggle through a taut jaw. your lips swiftly trace back down, along that one, throbbing vein on his underside. before your tongue presses flat and strokes a long stripe back to the tip. your hand follows the motion in a jerk. he whines.

"fuck. wait. don't - I — "

velvet wraps around his angry, hot tip once more. this time you take him deeper. push the plush head to the corner of your cheek then withdraw — then back again, this time down your throat.

satoru's eyes widen. pupils blown out. his mouth hangs agape as he focuses his remainder strength on not fucking his dick down your throat. his hands clench. his chest stutters. balls tighten as a release quickly builds, tight in his gut. every bob of your head is a sinful image. with your lips stretched round his girth while you gaze at him through sultry lashes.

fuck, he can't do this. he shouldn't - "babbyyyy," he whines, breathless, pitched. "gotta stop - fuck - gonna cum. please."

pop! you part with a pant while your hand mindlessly keeps a fluid stroke. "why?" airy, near-cruelly, sweetly. "why won't you let me? why are you stopping me?"

"want you t'feel good - wanna make. . . wanna make you feel good too -"

"I do feel good, satoru."

his breath hitches. you give him a glossy smile and trace kisses in a tender circle over his cockhead. together with a squeeze and a thumb stroking vertically onto that prominent vein, you croon.

"feel so good when I'm making you feel good. promise you're not selfish. please? I just wanna show you how much I love you."

another kiss. he's teary with need. it's the aphrodisiac. that damn curse. making him weak, making him vulnerable. but maybe . . . it's worth it, if it's for you,

maybe feeling good isn't such a sin, if it's you.

"okay," he gulps. throat tight. lips trembled. "okay, sweetheart. I'll — mngh!"

it's quite possible all six eyes rolled back. his hips jerk at the sudden warmth engulfing his dick. you took him back down your throat with ease. hand messily pumping on whatever you couldn't fit as you dutifully got to work. head bobbing, cheeks hallowing. how could you possibly be patient?

for months he denied you. half the year, even. deprived you of taste. of the satisfaction to make him feel good. his retribution will come in the back of your throat. his plush, throbbing tip hits it repeatedly and he squirms from the overwhelm.

"baby - fuck-!" snap. one bind falls from his wrist. instead of pushing you away this time, his fingers delve to your scalp and hold. tightly. hips fall into rhythm. he fucks your throat in a way you could only dream of for months. till your eyes are rolling back with his.

spit and slick drip to his thighs. down your chin. a mess you're proud of. you'll pull back to suck near-suffocation on his tip then dive back down when a familiar throb alerts you.

"gonna - g-gonna - shit - babbyyyyy," a small arch finds his back. his hips sloppily, pitifully try to match your pace. his balls throb again. tighten. his tip pulses. he aches in heat, in pleasure. jaw taut and head flung back as you take him higher - and higher — until finally,

"fuck, yes yes yes like that fuuckk."

he bursts. thick ropes of cum cream the back of your throat and your eyes flutter in a sinful display. whites clear with your irises rolled back, but you're still so eagerly gulping him down. every drop. you're sure as hell not wasting after finally getting a taste.

satoru limps. boneless. for once in his life he cannot see anything at all. only white, hot pleasure as his body reels from the intense, blissful tides. every muscle gives out. his hand flops over your head. his hips so needily grind up a few more times. he's lost. shattered.

and you still have the nerve to slowly part with the sweetest kiss to his tip. with a smile so angelic. like you hadn't just crawled from the depths of hell.

his gaze slowly eases to you; your tongue is awaiting. poked from your glossy lips with a glob of his cum trickled. his mouth parts at the sight. eyes crease and squeeze as he tries to catch his breath.

"finally." you croon, gulping down the final wad as you lean over and brush your lips to his. "see baby? see how good I feel when you're feelin' good?"

the wet patch on your panties flushed to his throbbing cock hitches his breath. he deeply groans. nods his head and weakly cranes into you.

"I get it now baby, I get it."

white lashes flutter. he looks at you as though you hung the sun, moon and stars. his lips pull into a tired pout.

"now can you get over my face? need my sweet pussy too."

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

  ꘓ  𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @downpourz @unadulteratedtranquility @meosq @k0z3me @le0na2 ۪ ୧

[nanamisgirly]

your dilf doesn't need 'perfect'　ྀི　

“w-wait—” you were panting, legs wrapped around his hips where dilf!nanami straddled you on the countertop. you pull back just as his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you don't remember how exactly you ended up there, how things turned from soft touches over dinner to a heavy make out session—tongue sliding between your lips, big hands pressing you against his chest. 

it's been months of holding back for both of you—resuming your relation to slow touches, soft kisses, and ‘no pressure sweetheart’ every time things started getting heavy. since you weren't experienced and kind of…scared, dilf!nanami suggested waiting til you're ready. and you've been grateful for it, even when you returned home some night aching and soaked from just making out with him.

and maybe all the courage you gathered to tug him in by his tie tonight and kiss him like you were desperate for it, had drained from your veins the moment you felt one of his hand sliding up your thigh and the other slipping under your shirt—hot, rough, calloused.

“did i go too far?” he asked, one hand still under your shirt, fingers hovering just under the band of your bra, not moving an inch. “it's okay. you don't need to explain. we can stop, sweetheart.” his lips were swollen—covered with spit. his eyes glassy and you could feel the weight of his cock pressing against your shorts.

“no—! no… i want to,” you blurted out too quickly, voice overlapping his, desperate not to be misunderstood. but even as you said it, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes, so you turn your head, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you continue, 

“it's just…” you exhaled, shame blooming fast in your chest. “i'm not confident about. . y'know.” you gesture vaguely toward your boobs. “they look nice in a bra and—uh…you've probably seen better. i know they look big in a bra, but they don't, well…stay up. they're soft, and…” your voice tightens. “i just…i've read things. about guys saying they were disappointed. or didn't want to even see them during the act, unless they were covered—” you laugh nervously, voice cracking. “it's so embarrassing. i-i didn't want you to see them and think—think they're…ugly.”

the silence that followed felt unbearable.

it only makes your anxiety grow and you feel so dumb for talking about it, maybe you should just have stopped and that's it…because nanami didn't move an inch since your little monologue, his honey eyes still trying to catch your gaze. 

your stomach drops. you start to shift trying to get off the counter, anything to escape mortification. “look, i'm sorry,” you say, heart pounding, eyes glassy. “i-i shouldn't have brought it up, i—umh—it's ok. i just thought that'd be nice to tell you before hand and huh…fuck i ruined everything didn't i?”

that's when you feel his hands coming to your hips, pinning you in place on the countertop. you gasp as he presses his cock against your core harder than ever—twitching with need.

when you looked up, his eyes had darkened. his brows were furrowed, jaw tight, emotion bleeding into every sharp line of his face. “that,” he said flatly, “is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.”

your breath hitched.

“i'm not a boy with a warped idea of what women are supposed to look like.” he leaned in, cupping your jaw to be sure your eyes stay locked onto his. “i'm a grown man. you think i'm painfully hard, grinding against you, shaking, because i'm waiting for something ‘perfect’? sweetheart, i'm here, aching because it's you. all of you that i want.”

his voice was low, frayed. barely holding together. “let me very clear, sweetheart, i'm going to lose my mind when i see them, i will drop to my knees and thank the gods for putting someone as sweet as you.”

your lips part, trying to breathe through the whirl of embarrassment and affection and…arousal.

“ken—”

“does this—” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding your trembling fingers down to the thick, pulsing shape of his cock straining in his slacks, “feel like someone who's going to be disappointed?”

you whimpered, your smaller fingers squeezing his boner. 

“f-fuck…” he shuddered. “if you want to stop,” he breathed, forehead falling to your shoulder. “i'll stop. if you want to wait, we'll wait. another month. another year. i don't care. anything you want, for you to be comfortable.”

but his voice cracked at the end—like he was hanging by a thread. you felt it too, his body coiled tight, like a beast barely leashed.

“you're too nice, ken.” you say teary-eyed, half laughing, half melting.

“well, k-keep squeezing me like that and i'm afraid i won't be nice any longer.” he groaned, lip brushing your neck.

your thighs wrapped tighter around him. “you can take it off,”

his head snapped up. “you sure?” his gaze held yours as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again, and when you nodded, “arms up, sweets,” he said softly, and you obeyed.

when he tosses delicately your shirt to the side, skilled fingers quickly find your bra and unclip it, oh very so slowly.

when your bra hit the floor, everything held still. like the world paused long enough for nanami to lose his mind quietly. his eyes dragged up, heavy-lidded and wrecked. one big hand came up—trembling—cupping your breast with a war raging in his mind : should i worship or ruin them?

“sweets,” he breathed, thumbing over one of your nipple, “they're perfect. so fucking perfect i feel like i'm hallucinating.”

[widevibratobitch]

i need to dye my hair i need to cut my hair i need to bleach my eyebrows again i need to shave them off completely i need to DO something i need CHANGE or ill go insane

[bunnigumi]

─ A LITTLE BIT HARDER NOW!

WHEN HE PULLS BACK theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that.

cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink

Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.

You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.

He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addicting—watching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.

"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.

A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.

"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don't—!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.

"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.

Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.

"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrased—hot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."

You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.

It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.

When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to say—always. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.

"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.

He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.

Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.

When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.

When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.

"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aah—!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.

The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."

He really should start doing this more often.

[classyrbf]

dad bod!toji who’s still the big, muscular man he is but you can tell he’s gotten older and his metabolism has slowed down a little bit. He’s gotten chubbier in his arms, thighs, tummy. Not to mention, he’s started to gray and grow stubble on his face, the perfect salt and pepper mix. Toji says he hates it, always moaning and groaning about needing to hit the gym but you…? You fucking love it. It takes everything in you not to ravish his right then and there, wanting to pounce on him every second of the day. You’re always kissing up on him, grabbing on him, dragging him to the laundry room while the kids watching tv so you could have a quickie. And he’s so confused on where all this extra energy and affection has sprouted from, but he loves it. You’re always so eager for him, fucking your self on his cock, him waking up to you kissing his neck and stroking his dick, dropping to your knees and giving him head without his asking. He wonders what he’s done to deserve all of it.

He’s standing in the mirror one late night with his shirt off, examining just how chubby he’s gotten. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure, thinking how gorgeous you are and how you shouldn’t settle for him. “I’m losing myself,” he grumbles. “What’s going on, baby?” You walk in the room, a smile immediately on your face when you see his shirt is off, definitely a sight to see. “I need to head to the gym is what’s going on.” He flexes his muscles in the mirror. You giggle and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist. “I think you look so handsome with a little weight on you,” you whisper in his ear. “Does something to me.” You nibble on his ear before trailing kisses along his jaw, and that’s when Toji realizes why you’ve been so affectionate with him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

Just mere minutes later, you’re riding him like your life depends on it, slamming your hips down on his, creating a sticky mess between you two. “S-shit,” he pants, “slow down, mama—fuck!” His bruising grips on your hips only tighten the faster you ride him. Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, clenching around his throbbing cock. “I can’t…you get so me so hot and bothered, baby.” You grin, running your hands down his chest.

He swears he could cum right then and there, with the way you were riding him and that look in your eye, he was ready to give you another kid. And now you were kissing his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. “You’re so perfect, Toji,” you mewl. “Fuck me.” His eyes roll back before fluttering shut. “Keep going, yes, yes, just like that, mama. You’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he groans. You keep that same rhythm, squeezing your pussy around him, milking him. He suddenly wraps his arms around you, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Ah, fuck!” You cry out, your cum dripping down his shaft. His thrusts grow sloppier and harder and next thing you know he’s filling you up, pushing his cum deeper inside of you with slow thrusts. Laughter erupts from your chest as you catch your breath, kissing him slowly and passionately.

“Mmm, goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you to his chest. “Now I finally know why you’re so goddamn horny all the time,” he chuckles. You blink up at him with a small smirk. “Can you blame me?” You trace patterns on his skin. He can see the look in your eye, that hungry stare you’re giving him, wanting more. “What are you thinking about, hm?” He caresses your cheek. “Oh nothing…just how badly I wanna give you some head right now, but I’ll wait.”

[holeforzenin]

༯ Choso losing his mind in your pussy for the first time<3

“M’sorry– so so sorry baby, can’t help it!” he continuously muttered, shaking his head side to side apologetically. His adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously gulped, guilt stirring deep inside of him for being so hard on you as he plunged his cock deeper into your warm pussy with absolutely no restraint.

It’s like his hips just had a mind of it’s own the literal second his weeping lip sunk past your ring of tightness, because that’s when he went crazy. Feeling your tight, gummy walls clinging around his erection had his soul levitating. His muscular body weight is crushing you from above as he leans into you deeper. Desperate to feel your body, your warm skin, your tight, comforting pussy. Everything. Your sweet cunt was gripping his cock like a vice and it drove him out of his mind.

“It’s too good! so wa-warm ngh– and tight” he whimpered embarrassingly, he never meant to lose himself like this, but how can you blame him? :( Poor guy, this was the first time he got his pretty dick wet and couldn’t remain stable. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to spill inside of you right away. “It’s okay Cho— just slllow down a little” A loud moan escaped your lips and God, you could’ve sworn you felt his entire cock twitching against your velvet walls because of it.

“Can’t stop, can’t stoppp!... Fuckkk God am I in heaven??” He whined, Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his dark, raven strands as his jittery cock spreads open your tight hole, your folds now slicked and messy— glistering with your creamy cum. You can feel his prominent veins rubbing up against your walls, throbbing in lewd little heartbeat thumps. “You’re a fucking angel I swear, God wish I could stay like this forever” he babbled mindlessly, his mushroom tip bullying your cervix with deep, deep strokes, eliciting needy moans of ecstasy from your lips, harmonizing with his.

Without even considering whether your body could take it or not, he indecisively maneuvered both of your legs to rest on each side of his shoulders before pressing his chest flush against your pretty bouncing tits. His feverish eyes gazed into yours with desperation. It’s like his body was there but his soul was in another dimension. Choso was soo fucked out by your sweet pussy. The position had you seeing fucking stars, Choso was so huge and muscular so having him crushing you like this made you even hornier, you discovered a kink that you never thought you had. Sultry sounds escaped his pretty mouth as he felt your nails taking against his toned back.

His brows scrunching together at the way you were sucking every inch of him in. he quickened his pace, and you gasped astonishingly in surprise once you felt Choso’s warm tongue tenderly sucking the skin near your ankle, planting delicate, caring kisses on it. Before leaning in to kiss you, your lips immediately parted, inviting his salivated tongue in as it met yours in a tangling, disgusting kiss of exchanging spit. His cock throbbed inside of you, his movements becoming more and more sloppy as he breathed heavily against your mouth. You raked your fingers through his damp strands as his bare, hard chest smushed your tits against you.

He quickly pulled away, a panicked look plastered on his face as his nails violently dug into the skin of your thighs, “Baby, baby m’gonna– gonna cum!” He practically cried out, you gently moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your touch as you caressed it. “It’s okay, it’s okay cho. Go on—“.

Not even a mere second had passed and you were blessed with the breathtaking sight of his pretty eyes rolling back, “pussy is so fucking heavenly fuckkkk” he groaned passionately, his thighs trembling as he released his aching, cum-filled balls into your warm core. The feeling of his warm sperm flooding your cunt made you moaned in relief because oh, you loved that feeling so much. His cum quickly spilled out, cascading down your asshole and the already damped sheets below the two of you.

You suddenly felt the air get punched out of your body when you felt Choso’s hardened and aroused cock speeding up in your overstimulated cunt. “I— m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry—“ his voice hoased with desire as tears spilled from his eyes as he cried out shamelessly.

[barnesonly]

Imagine telling bestie!Bucky you’ve always had to fake it in bed with men… You know he’d fuck you till you see stars

STOP. you are a genius honestly. the bestfriend energy turning into fucking?? i’m so damn bad for this…. And bucky would be also so confident about himself in bed like UGH i just know HE knows how good he is… squeezing my thighs at the thought.

You’re walking side by side, milkshakes in hand, the way you always do after a long week. your hands occasionally brushing. It’s easy — it always is with him. Talking about everything and nothing — something stupid. First dates. Red flags. Sex that was just… meh.

And then, casually, like it’s no big deal, you say it.

“I’ve faked it, like, every time.”

He slows mid-step. “Wait. Every time?”

You shrug like it’s nothing. “I mean, yeah. Guys always think they’re doing a good job if you moan a little and say their name once or twice.”

Bucky blinks at you, stunned. “That’s…” He shakes his head, lips twitching. “That’s criminal. I think I need a moment.”

You laugh. “Relax, Barnes. It’s not like they were terrible. It just wasn’t… memorable. Or about me, really.”

He’s still looking at you — only now, there’s something behind his eyes. Heat. Focus.

“You’re tellin’ me not one guy’s made you come?”

“Not from sex, no.”

He stops walking. You take another sip of your milkshake, trying not to smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say lightly.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he mutters, jaw tight, voice low.

“Oh, you’re looking.”

He licks his lips, eyes dragging down your face, your throat, the shape of your mouth around the straw. “You shouldn’t tell me shit like that, doll.”

You raise a brow. “Why not?”

“Because now I can’t stop thinking about what I’d do different.”

There’s a beat of silence — thick, electric. You swallow, hard.

“…You think you could do it right?” you ask, teasing, testing.

He steps closer, leans in. You feel the heat of him, the weight of that look — the one that makes your knees go soft.

“I know I could.”

———

You’d said it was a bad idea.

That crossing that line would ruin everything.

But now you’re ruined in a completely different way — your body spread beneath him, flushed and trembling, every nerve frayed raw from the way he touches you like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s waited years.

He kisses you like he owns your mouth. Fucks you like he wants to prove every man before him was a waste of time.

“Look at me,” he growls against your throat. “I wanna see it.”

Your eyes flutter open just as your body clenches around him again. You moan his name, your voice cracked, your legs shaking.

He watches, entranced — every twitch, every gasp, the way you fall apart under him, for him.

“God, Bucky—” you gasp, and he leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“You feel that?” he pants, dragging his cock deep again, slow and deliberate.

You nod helplessly, mouth open on a cry as he fucks into you again — rougher now, steady, each thrust angled perfectly to grind against that devastating spot inside you. His name tumbles out of you over and over, no space left in your brain for anything else.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—don’t stop—”

“I’m not stoppin’, baby,” he growls, gripping your hips tighter. “Not ‘til you give it to me again.”

He lifts your legs over his shoulders without warning, folding you in half, and the new angle knocks the air from your lungs. You sob, reaching for him, your hands trembling as they claw at his back.

“That’s it,” he hisses, watching you unravel. “You gonna come for me again? Let me feel it?”

Your whole body’s on fire, skin flushed and slick with sweat, muscles clenching around him so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t come first — but he holds on, jaw clenched, arms straining as he pounds into you like he means it.

You break with a cry — raw and shaking beneath him, thighs quivering, your release crashing through you like lightning. And Bucky loses it.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight—god, you’re perfect,” he gasps, driving into you harder, chasing his high as your body pulses around him. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He buries himself to the hilt one last time and groans, deep and wrecked, as he spills inside you, his entire body going tense, then trembling against yours. His mouth is on your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach, pressing kisses between desperate breaths.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

You nod, dazed. “I… I saw stars.”