#but if I can be allowed to draw with broad strokes for a second

[francesderwent]

WAIT OK SORRY IT'S SUPER LATE BUT you're losing me?

I will accept this late message because I love you, and because “You’re Losing Me” is exactly the song that my original text post complaining about Swifties missing the point was about haha 

the Swiftie lyric: “I wouldn’t marry me either a pathological people pleaser” and also to a lesser extent “I’m getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes”

the lyric we should be paying attention to: “who only wanted you to see her” and “lose something babe, risk something. choose something babe I’ve got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me”

ugh the reaction to this song drives me up a wall. to pull out “I wouldn’t marry me either a pathological people-pleaser” WITHOUT finishing the line?? are you nuts??? because the end of the line gives us so much context!!! he’s not losing her because she wanted to make the whole place shimmer and he wanted to hide and found her people-pleasing ways annoying, no! he’s losing her because all she wanted, the only person at the end of the day that she wanted to please, was him. but actually the song keeps going, it tells us even more as Taylor does what she always does: gives very clear instructions of exactly what he needs to do to dig them out of this hole. and it’s not pay more attention to her, it’s choose her. she said in “Cruel Summer”, we say that we’ll just screw it up in these trying times, we’re not trying—and he’s STILL not. he won’t risk. but he can’t keep going on in this same way, floating in limbo forever. and so she has nothing to place her faith in, her faith that was always so strong. 

basically what it comes down to is this. the popular reception of this song I’ve seen is so focused on the one pathological people-pleaser line that it’s somehow spun an interpretation of the song as about falling out of love when you’re convinced you’re unlovable. it’s just a shade off from the “what a shame she’s fucked in the head” of “champagne problems”; the blame is turned inward, except for very brief moments where it looks out at him to spit specific accusations “I know my pain is such an imposition”, “don’t you ignore me I’m the best thing at this party” etc.  and I think that’s absolutely bullshit. “You’re Losing Me” is definitely not about pulling away and sabotaging the relationship, and it’s not even about someone doing a bunch of little hurtful things in the relationship. it’s about the relationship dying because one person won’t make a choice about what the relationship is and what it means. it’s Taylor giving the final word on the feminine experience of being taken for granted and strung along. it’s about waiting for someone to commit to you, and they never do. it’s about when you wanted to give everything, but your partner will only ever give a little, so you have to stop giving. to me, this is just clear. and I think the only reason that it hasn’t been taken note of is because the culture wants to go on believing that taking the “step” of living together while always keeping the back door open is somehow “good for the relationship”. but it isn’t. it’s not the familiar violence of being left, “this thing was a masterpiece til you tore it all up”, but it is just as destructive. it just kills you slowly. 

[pandoraslxna]

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: cockwarming, voyeurism

⋆｡° ✮ adult Neteyam and Ao’nung art was made by the amazing @cinetrix 🩵

⋆｡° ✮ Translations: tawtute = human, sky person

"Comfortable?" Neteyam asks, half teasing and half honest concern.

He strokes his hands up your thighs, resting them on your hips, squeezing slightly.

"That’s a word for it", you huff, panting lightly behind your mask. There’s tension in your words, but not pain. Definitely not pain. This is something else.

Every shift Neteyam makes draws a quiet, soft moan from your lips, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from making too much noise. Calming yourself with deep, even breaths, you allow your eyes to drift elsewhere.

You try to ignore the people around you equally the same way you try to put your whole focus on them, everything to blend out the feeling of being split apart by Neteyams thick cock.

He sits heavy in your lower abdomen, and you feel hot and full. He’s stretching your gummy walls as far as they can go to adjust to his ridiculous size.

Never before have you cursed the na‘vi’s clothing as much as you did in this moment. They’re skimpy, short and thin, the loincloths easy to pull aside and rearrange so nobody saw the way Neteyam lowered you onto his throbbing length and then kept you there, unmoving for hours on end.

In front of you, the metkayina were dancing around the fireplace, loud music was played while others ate and drank the night away, celebrating for whatever reason. You couldn’t remember, couldn’t focus enough to remember.

After a while, Neteyam jerks you out of your reverie by placing his chin onto your shoulder and whispering lowly, "Look who’s watching."

You follow his line of sight, to the opposite end of the gathering. Through the flames of the fire, your eyes met half lidded, ocean blue ones.

Ao’nung has a scowl on his face as he stares right back at you, and it sends a physical shiver down your spine. Subconsciously, you clench around the cock resting inside of you, squirming in his lap, which in return makes Neteyam grunt. He seems rather amused by the fact that Ao’nung’s watching, not at all possessive like he usually was when it came to his favorite little human, so he makes it a show to drag his tongue over your pulse point in a long, broad stroke, leaving a wet trail on your skin behind.

Still, Ao’nung watches. He shifts in his seat in what looked like a change of position, as if his own loincloth was growing significantly tighter by the second.

"I need water", you swallow dryly, cheeks burning up in red hot embarrassment.

"Oh, do you?" Neteyam grins, and you know by the mischievous tone in his voice that you probably shouldn’t have bought this up. "Then get it."

It’s right there, on the flat wooden surface that almost looks like a small table, just out of your reach.

"I– I can’t", you whisper. "The people, they’re going to… they will see."

"No they won’t. Most of them are drunk anyways, nobody‘s paying attention to us", Neteyam chuckles. "And the only one who is, already looks like he knows what’s going on."

You suck a breath in through your teeth as you ready yourself to move, glancing around to find everyone too busy in their own little conversations to even look at the foreign demon sitting in Neteyams lap.

It’s a tortuously slow drag as you pull up, snatching the drink right in front of you and quickly sinking back down. Neteyam groans, hands going tight on your hips, while you bite back a whimper.

It takes you several minutes to collect your breathing this time, while Neteyam forces his hands to loosen so your hips won’t be bruised later.

Before you can even lift up your mask to take a sip of water, your eyes fall on the now empty seat across the fire.

"Enjoyed the show?", Neteyam suddenly chirps, grinning wide and sharp toothed, just as you register the tall figure standing only mere inches next to the two of you.

You had to crane your neck all the way up to even look at his face, where the scowl had turned into a sly grin.

"We need to talk", he says, and even though his eyes are entirely fixed on yours, you’re sure he’s talking to Neteyam. That must be the case, because said omatikaya then chuckles, "Why don’t you take a seat? Sit with us."

Ao’nungs grin turns into something more dangerous, and his next words make your breath hitch in your throat as he sits down on the log to your left, his hand coming to rest on your upper thigh.

"Actually, I was hoping your tawtute could take a seat... and sit with me."

[nouearth]

a summer phase.

jason carver x male reader.

summary: jason keeps telling himself that it's just a phase, yet it's become a weekly routine to spend the evening with you.

wc: 1.5k. warnings: explicit smut, kinda angst, handjob (r!giving, jason!giving), lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, closeted!jason, hurt!reader, internalized homophobia.

a/n: hi, hi! just a short little fic because i wanted to write jason, and i swear, we need more smut with him, haha. this kinda turned out sadder than i thought, but i do plan on making a second part to include a jealous!jason when reader is takling to eddie! i haven't been active as much and i apologize, but i hope everyone is doing great!

A gentle breeze blew in from the open window and the wind chimes gently sang from the floor below, joining two spirits that had been sharing warm pants with one another, evoking moans from another. The golden evening had settled in the background and silhouetted the writhing bodies into dark shadows. Droplets of sweat had caught onto the glimpse of fading sun, allowing Jason to memorize the detail of your body before dusk conquered his room.

The muscles that tensed when he squeezed harder around your cock, the squirms that caused the creaking of his bed when he fondled your balls, the gulps that failed to bury moans when he leaned in and kissed at your throat; you followed Jason’s lead into dusk, mirroring his actions to his own cock as he worshipped you and your presence until you were his prayer, his promise, to the kingdom of heaven.

“I’m close…” You panted into the open-mouthed kiss, legs tangled into his as both of your bodies reflected off of each other, sitting straight. Your thighs had sat sticky on his muscular pair and you can feel him tense when your rhythm quickens, your fist tightening to press the pulsing veins into his sprouted cock.

“Me too…” Jason sputtered, leaning his forehead against yours and placed a tightening hold on the back of your neck to hold you close. He held the languidness of your gaze past the heaviness of his own lids, and a terrible guilt he crept up on him because he was terribly enraptured by the effect he had on you, by the effect you had on him. He’d seen you in this state so often, even the darkness couldn’t have hidden the explosion of stars in your eyes.

It was wrong.

He pulled you forward to explore the inside of your mouth, stroking your cock at a pace you couldn’t have possibly kept up with. His tongue mined for a taste of you. Moans unfurled when the fruity cereal that you both had shared earlier spread onto his wet flesh and Jason kept exploring, kissing, moaning, tasting, until he captured the sound of your rapture and swallowed it in heavy pride, pushing down the thoughts that had been condemning him for his sins.

Your hips buckled, releasing your fist around Jason’s cock, and you came undone in several thick ropes. “Fuck—“ Your chest rose and your stomach sank as Jason’s strokes aided every second of the unimaginable pleasure, drawing you out until you were empty before him. The cum splattered onto his broad chest, dripped heavily down his toned stomach, and he reused the warm seed that gathered on his fist to lube his own cock and fuck into his fist after.

“Open your mouth—“ He rose onto his knees, breath hitching and chest rising, while there was enough light in the room for you to carefully maneuver yourself under Jason’s legs. You leaned back onto your elbows, legs sprawled, and pushed your tongue out once you tilted your head back. Droplets of your own cum dripped from his lubed erection and onto your face from the quick, yet clumsy rhythm of his strokes, but you didn’t feel stained until he neared his cock closer to your face. The strong muscles in his thighs kept him balanced on the bed and your pants began to quicken again, joining him in anticipation of his arrival to a delirious state of mind, and welcoming him with an open mouth once he comes. “Baby, I’m going to—“

Before he could finish his warning, your cheek was hit with a heavy splat, then your forehead, then on your hair, and then the centre of your face. “Fuck, Jason—“ For a basketball player, his aim was horrible, and you couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as you kept your head tilted back, providing him a canvas for him to paint white on. You took all of the remaining thick cum in pride, replacing his hand with yours to stroke him through the shower Jason had continue to cover your face and body with.

The cum sat thick and heavy on your skin, and you basked yourself in the weight of it, sighing when you flattened yourself on the bed. Jason joined you seconds after grabbing a spare towel off his chair, groaning by your side when his sheets pressed uncomfortably wet onto his back. Doting wipes pressed to your face, then your body as he cleansed you with a gentleness that could soothe you to sleep. Though, you were only kept awake because of Jason. His lips attached to yours quickly after, and you kissed back languidly, tracing the curl of his smile with sweet chaste. He pulled away sighing and shared one last gaze that rendered every meaning of ‘beautiful’ useless until you perfectly defined it with the reserve of your smile.

There was a silence after. It thickened the sudden tension in the air, and even though the night had blinded you, you could see the parting of Jason’s lips when you turned your head to face him when he joined you by your side. The dim light from the window had highlighted the contemplative look on his face, and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. 

You already knew what he was about to tell you. The regret in the tremor of his voice was profound, even with the slightest croak, and you immediately turned your head the other way when you felt your eyes sting.

“I-uh… I’ll get going now.” It was a routine at this point. You and him did stuff, and he apologetically shooed you out before anyone could see him with someone like you. Even if his parents wouldn’t be home for another month, the act of liking another man ignited a guilt that boiled his feelings alive. Whether they would die off or come back stronger, he’d do his best to bury them deep enough to convince him that it was a phase.

It was wrong. And it was a phase.

All a phase.

You cleared your throat to soften the swelling feeling in your chest and rolled off his bed to change back into your clothes. Coughs and ruffles of clothes covered the sound of your sniffles. He watched you in silence, guilt-ridden as your back turned towards him, and he clutched at the bed sheet to ground him from succumbing to further transgression. The frail of your back looked cold enough to reflect ice into his own hands if he was to touch you. Even when your shirt draped over it, he’d imagine the goosebumps on your body to prick him like icicles, and—so bad, he wanted to hug you even if it meant that he’d be pricked by a hundred million ice spikes. 

“I’ll drive you home…“ He surrendered, stepping out of the bed, and into his briefs and shorts.

“I can walk.” You scanned the floor for the other half of your socks, finding them near the corner of the room.

“It’s dark out, (M/N).” Jason pulled his t-shirt on and neared close, reasoning. “Besides, you live twenty minutes away—walking distance.” 

It was a desperate attempt to spend more time with you, even though it was his own guilt and pride that pushed you away. During school, it was Jason that ignored your very existence. Surrounded by adoring classmates and friends with a reputation to uphold, it was easy to. A selfish part of you wished he struggled to contain his feelings when you were within his vicinity. Instead, when your gaze met his, he looked past you as if he’d never seen the light of your eyes, as if he didn’t worship the warm sheen that resided in them nights prior. 

“It’s fine.” You layered your backpack over your shoulder, gaze casted downwards as you kicked your shoes on despite Jason’s attempt to steal a glimpse of your face. “People are going to see us.”

“I doubt anyone’s going to be out at this time now—“ You wished he would’ve said that he didn’t care about being caught. He followed you downstairs, the blades of icicles growing sharper with every step you took. “Slow down!”

“I’ll see you in class.” Your chest swelled again knowing that he’d rather choose not to, but you assured of that matter with a smile. His hand naturally reached out to take your hand, another attempt to stall you for a little while longer.

“Please? Let’s talk—“ Overcome by despair, he held your hand tight, letting the roughness of his palm linger on your own despite every second counting against his morals. Jason squeezed, intertwining his fingers into yours to lock you in place. “I-I think we can—“

But your fingers yanked back at the hook of his fingers, and you reluctantly pulled your arm back to your side. Silence fell, and the sound of Jason’s gulp swayed you back around before trudging out of his home and closing the door shut behind you.

“(M/N)!”

The warmth from your hand remained on Jason’s hand as he watched you march into the night, flexing his fingers at every lingering spark, yet you continued to be the despair of him.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[m-ayo-o]

don't be sorry

18+ explicit sex college / university Ichigo (21) wc 710

Ichigo obviously loves when you're hugging him and touching him, as you always have- he never wants that to change. But recently there have been some complications.

He's noticing things he probably shouldn't; the arch in your back when you tiptoe to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, the way your small hands touch him so delicately. He savours the way your plush boobs meld to his body, hating himself for imagining how you'd feel in his hands.

Fuck… her waist… Ichigo hugs you back reluctantly, not wanting to get any more turned on as you greet him in your dorm corridor, wearing that cute little skirt.

"Ichigooo!!" You smile and squeeze him tight. "Mm… good morning, y/n," he mumbles, really struggling to fight off his growing erection, already regretting his decision to walk with you to campus today.

You can't help but notice, looking down and chuckling softly, thinking the situation is rather amusing.

Ichigo's cheeks flush pink as he looks down at you with a serious expression, furrowing his eyebrows. He sighs and scans the hallway. There's no one else there, just you two.

"Y/n…" Ichigo starts, bringing one hand to your waist, glaring at your lips, your big eyes, your chest.

He's bites his lip, leaning lower, sighing heavily through his nose. His hand is hot on your skin between your skirt and cropped t-shirt.

"What is it, Ichigo?" You murmur, feeling nervous as you notice a restless glint behind his usually warm, amber irises. You can feel a feverish energy between you, drawing you ever closer.

He looks down, the tent in his shorts is nearly touching you from where he stands, leaning over you. His eyes flick up to yours again, giving you a deep, longing stare.

You can't stop yourselves- your lips crash together as you naively try to hold your ground for a split second, only for the redhead to slam you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

The kiss is hot and fast, his tongue pushing in aggressively as his hands work up your body.

"Ichi- nnn-" you whimper as his fingers find your nipples, rubbing and pinching, "Ichigo-"

"Fuck, y/n…" he pulls away and groans, his dilated pupils staring into yours intently, his lips all wet.

"C-can we...?" your hand fumbles for your key, opening the door, unexpectedly re-entering your flat.

Ichigo slams it closed and takes you up against the cool wood, your thong and skirt nudged out of the way by his swollen tip, pushing in to his base greedily while moaning confessions in your ear, "y/n, been- driving me fucking crazy-" he holds you up, thrusting hard.

"'m sorry," you mumble back, clinging onto him, not quite realising how careless you've been with Ichigo recently.

"You're sorry?" He gives you an incredulous look, allowing all of the images of you to play through his mind again. It's always the same, going to touch himself while imagining your voice, your smile, your hands, your lips.

You have nothing to be sorry about.

"I just- I can't control myself..." he bows his head down in embarrassment, "you're my friend, I- I can't-" he whines out, balls deep in his friend, pushing harder and faster, his moans spilling into the crook of your neck.

"I-Ichigo, it's ok- I, I wan' you too, so bad-" you murmur, feeling his thrusts get sloppy as the deep, achy feeling builds inside you.

He looks up at you, tears pricked in the corner of his eyes.

Oh, what have you done to this man?

"It's ok...? For me- haah, to want you..." his eyes dart to your parted lips, "all the time?" he growls into your mouth, fucking you dumb until you're both cumming hard, making a mess of each other.

"Ichigo..." you pull him close as he sobs into your shoulder, holding you up effortlessly while his body shakes.

You reassure him that you've wanted him too, that you feel the same. You stroke his hair and kiss him until he believes you. He finds it so comforting to know that you need him.

He finally lets you go, you both get cleaned up and he walks you to campus, as promised, his hand in yours.

[masterlist]

likes, comments + reblogs appreciated!

[arokel]

To the Victor

Rating: G Pairing: Don/Bobby, Bobby/OMC Tags: Pre-relationship, pining, jealous don, awkward flirting Notes: inspired by @savvylittlecoxswain 's fantastic Poughkeepsie headcanon !

ao3

“Is your scowly friend back there a republican, by any chance?”

It takes Bobby a second to parse the words. He’s not used to the way Frank speaks - polished, refined, but underneath all that education and money there’s still a trace of the East Coast drawl that usually sets Bobby’s blood boiling to hear. But they aren’t out on the water, and Frank isn’t his opponent, and a few times now Bobby has gotten so lost in that cognitive dissonance and all the fascinating contradictions making up Frank’s voice that he’s completely missed the substance.

He cranes his neck to look behind him, mind catching on the most useful part of the sentence: scowly. And Roger is staring wide-eyed at a bust of Agrippa tucked into a bookshelf, which means…

“Who, Don? Don’t think so, but I doubt it’d matter anyway. New Deal’s done a lot for all of us boys.”

Frank’s grin, wide and toothy and as perfectly politic as the rest of him, warms with a sincere relief that seems to light Bobby up from the inside. This is the reason people win elections, he thinks. You just have to be handsome and charming enough and people turn to butter. Even Bobby, strong-willed as he is, feels a little weak in the knees.

“That’s wonderful news. I’m sure my father will be glad to hear it too,” Frank says, with a tone as casual as if he hasn’t just promised to personally relay Bobby’s gratitude to the President of the United States. “Must be another reason this Don fellow dislikes me, then, if it’s not politics.”

Bobby blinks, pulled back to reality by the mention of Don. “Oh - no, Don likes most people. He’s just a bit stone-faced. Killer smile when you can coax it out of him, though.”

It’s not a smile like Frank’s, broad and easy and inviting. It’s something much sweeter, something that brings an answering smile to Bobby’s lips just thinking about it - shy, private, and so brilliant it almost glows. Bobby would vote for Frank Roosevelt; he would go to the ends of the earth for Don Hume.

“Maybe he’s jealous,” Frank says.

“Of what?”

Frank’s grin turns sly, and only then does Bobby realize, with a cold thrill even in the face of that warm smile, that he’s been caught out. His only saving grace is that Frank seems pleased to know it.

“Could be plenty of things,” he says, drawing out the words with an obvious relish. “Putting myself in his shoes… he’s your stroke, right? So you come here, you meet some moneyed easterner, and you spend your night talking tactics with him - well, if I fancied myself the underdog I’d be glaring daggers at me too.”

“He’s not glaring daggers,” Bobby says, bristling. Don would be well within his rights to be pissed at Bobby over all that, if indeed he is pissed; Frank doesn’t need to make it sound petty.

Frank, with a politician’s ease, shrugs it off. “Maybe he thinks he’s a better rower. Maybe he thinks he’s more handsome.”

The second is accompanied by an exaggerated wink, and Bobby grudgingly allows himself to be charmed. Frank can’t help the arrogance, to a degree; that’s just what being raised an easterner with money gets you.

He laughs along. “For a politician’s son, you’re not very discreet.”

“You should have seen your face when you brought up his smile. Biggest cow-eyes I ever saw. Didn’t think there was much need for subtlety after that, though I don’t have high hopes of it getting me anywhere,” Frank says, shaking his head ruefully. “Go un-ruffle your stroke’s feathers. I’ll still be here if it turns out he really does just think he’s a better rower.”

Once again Bobby finds himself struggling to process the words, but this time it has nothing to do with Frank’s accent.

“Thanks,” he says vaguely, eyes already seeking out Don, who is much closer to ‘glaring daggers’ than Bobby took him to be after all. “He is a better rower, by the way.”

Frank ducks his head in a gracious admission of defeat. “I don’t doubt it.”

Don’s face does brighten at Bobby’s approach, though you’d have to know him fairly well to notice the shift. Bobby, who has spent a good number of months cataloging Don’s every expression and could probably call himself the foremost expert in reading Don Hume’s moods, sees it right away. He slides in along the ornately-patterned wall beside Don, kicking his feet out nonchalantly and knocking their elbows together, and watches another cloud dissipate.

Bobby shoots him an exaggerated frown. “Why the thunderclouds?”

“Just feel out of place, I guess,” Don says, with an unconvincing shrug. “All this wealth, when we’re putting paper in our shoes. And the president’s son welcoming us in and talking with us like we’re all the same.”

“Frank’s nice when you give him a chance.”

Although now, outside the radius of that smile, Bobby can admit that some of Frank’s charm is dependent on whether he’s actively turning it on you.

Don hums in clear skepticism. At a loss, Bobby tries for the most plausible of Frank’s harebrained, flirtatious theories. “Don’t worry, you’re a better rower than he is.”

“I know I am,” Don says, with a rare touch of arrogance. It looks good on him. Then he frowns again. “You know that just from talking strategy with him?”

So, it’s not that. Nor is it Frank’s initial conjecture - not that Bobby ever thought it was; Don is too steady for that kind of pettiness. And there’s no world in which it’s the final one.

“I’m a good cox,” Bobby says simply. “And you’re the best.”

Don snorts.

Bobby doubles down. “Scoff all you want, but two months from now you’ll have an Olympic medal and he won’t.”

“Then why is he smirking?”

Bobby knows the answer to that. What he doesn’t know is how Frank’s self-effacing grin, which reminds Bobby so strongly of a losing candidate on election night, could make Don think anything other than the truth: that when it comes to Bobby, Don has already won.

[becca-e-barnes]

I got a massage bar at the start of the week and honestly, I didn't expect it to fill my head with thoughts of using it on a really submissive dad's best friend Bucky 🙈

Because I imagine he doesn't really relax very often. His life gets busy, things are overwhelming sometimes and he rarely takes the chance to let himself decompress. There would be some small self-care wins though and the day he does his first face mask with you probably stands out in his head as one of his favourite days ever.

But I love to imagine him fresh out of the shower with his hair still slightly damp while his body is dry. He's laid on his front on the bed, wearing just his underwear, scrolling on his phone and you know it's been a long week for him.

He seems content now though, not that you can really see his face. The gentle arch of his back is so inviting, your brain reminding you of how it feels to trail kisses down his spine while he lies like this.

He's been so tense all week, you hardly know where to start. Breaking off a little piece of the massage bar and letting the fragment soften in your hands gives you some time to decide a course of action. Do you begin with those broad, tense shoulders and work from there down or do you want to start on the small of his back and work your way towards his neck?

As the solid butters melt with your body heat, filling the room with the scent of patchouli and vanilla, you decide to work from his shoulders down. You know you've made the right decision when you hear his content sigh at the gentle kisses you litter across the bare skin of the back of his neck.

"What are you doing?" The hint of a smile on his face carries in his voice while you settle on top of him.

"Nothing. Relax." The shea and cocoa butters in the bar have melted into a much slicker consistency, allowing your hands to glide over the broad expanse of his strong shoulders with very little resistance. You touch him gently to begin with, spreading the oils over the top half of his back before pressing heavier to work them into his skin.

His shoulders are as tense as you expected them to be but it doesn't take much to relax them. Your fingertips sink in to the soft flesh where his neck curves into his shoulders, rubbing in small, concentrated circles.

"That's nice." He hums, sounding truly relaxed. There's no rush with this. It can take as long as he likes. You've got all night to appreciate the man in front of you and you could happily spend every second just touching him.

It's fun to play around with the pressure of your touch. With one palm planted on each side of his spine, your firm, languid strokes up the length of his back drag soft gasps from his parted lips. Your fingertips moving in gentle circles however, draw a contented hum from his throat. The kind of hum that makes you want to cradle his head to your chest. He thrives off affection like no one else and it only makes you want to give him every ounce you can muster.

The most delightful sounds he makes come when your fingernails dig in while you trail the length of his back. He's always enjoyed the soothing feeling of a gentle back scratch but with each scratch, you notice how he subtly grinds against the mattress with a quiet moan.

He's forgotten all about his bad week at work, that much is clear.

"Baby, please." It's barely more than a whisper but you couldn't have missed it. He's done with the back rub and that's more than fine. You take take the spot on the bed beside him while he turns to lie on his back, noticeably hard beneath the underwear that you quickly discard.

Precum leaks from his tip and he appreciates that your hands are still slick more than you could ever know. One firm pump of your hand, rolling your palm over the tip is enough to make him gasp. He's neglected his own need for far too long.

"F-fuck." He groans, beginning to thrust in time with your hand movements, fucking himself into your fist. It's erratic and needy and the light blush to his cheeks gives away that he's embarrassed about his lack of self-restraint. Not embarrassed enough to stop though.

"God, you're pathetic." You tease, lost in the way the degradation makes him tense up. He gets off on this and so do you. "I bet you couldn't last if you were inside me right now."

His breath catches in his throat because he knows you're right. Hell, he's struggling to last right now. There's no expectation for him to last forever this time around though. You know he'll be able to offer you a whole lot more once he gets this out of his system.

"N-no. I couldn't. I couldn't last." He's so beautiful and he doesn't even know it. You notice that he's even more beautiful with streams of his cum rolling down over your fingers, desperate sobs tumbling from his lips and his over pleasured groans hanging in the humid bedroom air.

Afterwards, the man seems boneless. He's content, melting into the bed and once you've had a chance to clean up, he pulls you in for the softest kisses.

[bluetalenyx]

The air outside is cool against his warm cheeks and Satoru draws in a deep breath and holds it for one heartbeat, two, three, before letting it out in a puff of vapour that curls into the starless night sky like the smoke from Shoko's cigarette.

Faint music drifts out onto the balcony, and the overpowering smell of roses clings to him like a second skin.

From this high up, everything down below is nothing but a blur of bright colours and indistinguishable shapes. Broad strokes of existence without any meaning.

"What are you still doing here, Gojo? I thought you would have left by now."

The familiar sound of her voice has the corners of his lips lifting up into a smile. He had hoped she would follow him out here when he'd left.

Weddings are nothing but a waste of his time, more so when he's forced to attend to maintain political relationships he has no interest in maintaining, but they do at least give him the chance to see Utahime dressed up.

She looks as beautiful as she always does, but Satoru does not tell her this.

Instead, he pouts and says, "Yaga said I couldn't bail."

Utahime arches an eyebrow, disbelief clear as day on her face.

Satoru allows himself the chance to truly look at her like he's wanted to throughout the night. Her cheeks are flushed a light pink, and strands of her hair have come loose from the bun she had tied it in.

She smiles, and he falls in love with her all over again.

The memory of an arm, not his own, wrapped around her waist sparks something ugly and twisted inside of him.

She's drunk, he knows this. There's no other reason why she'd be out on the balcony with him rather than inside with her date for the wedding.

"When have you ever listened to him?" Utahime asks, amusement colouring her words. She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, eyes him with curiosity. "Come on, what's the real reason why you're still here?"

It would be so, so easy to say: I care about you. A lot, actually. That's why I stayed. That's why I'm still here.

And, maybe, if they were different people, if they led different lives, he could tell her this.

He could tell her everything.

But, in this life, they are special grade jujutsu sorceror Gojo Satoru and semi-grade one jujutsu sorcerer Iori Utahime.

In this life, he can not tell her that he loves her.

[redgoldsparks]

June Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

A First Time For Everything by Dan Santat 

A beautifully illustrated memoir of a shy, Asian American thirteen year old's first trip to Europe, in 1989. Dan is a painfully self-conscious kid, bullied at school despite his best efforts to slip invisibly through the school halls. But on a three week summer trips with a dozen other kids his age, some from his school and some from other states, he begins to find himself. This story is framed through a series of "firsts"- first time traveling without his parents, first time tasting Fanta, first cigarette, first alcoholic drink, first time navigating a city alone, first kiss, first time sharing his art with someone. The main narrative of the trip is woven through with flashbacks to particularly emotional past moments- asking a girl out, being romantically rejected, rejecting someone else, helping a girl out who had gotten her period unexpectedly. It captures the wretchedness of junior high, and the way traveling can teach people both about the world and themselves.

Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning by Cathy Park Hong

An impactful series of essays that circles around the meaning of "Asian American" sometimes in very broad strokes, sometimes narrowing to the author's specific experience as a bilingual Korean American writer who grew up in the Los Angeles area in the 80s and 90s. I really appreciated the mix of memoir and history, research and cultural critique. Topics range from therapy, the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, racism in academia, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, stand up comedy, the 1992 LA riots, the way childhood is not allowed equally to white and POC kids, the film Moonrise Kingdom and the 1965 Civil Rights movement, shame, deconstructing the English language in poetry, the 2012 documentary Wildness about a trans bar scene in LA, intense female friendships in art school, the poet Theresa Hak Kyung Cha's life and death, activist Yuri Kochiyama, and what debt, if any, an Asian American writer and thinker owes to America. This is a book I can see myself re-reading in a couple years, and getting more from it on a second read; it's rich with quotes and references to other writers, artists and thinkers who have informed Hong's thoughts. Definitely recommend.

In Limbo by Deb JJ Lee 

I'm not going to give this book a star rating, because it deals with some extremely heavy topics I have no experience with (multiple suicide attempts, physical abuse of a child by a parent). This memoir covers four years of the main character's life, all of high school. Korean American Jung Jin, who goes by Deborah or Deb at school, made most of her friends in orchestra in junior high. But in high school she falls out of love with violin and quits music to focus more time and energy into drawing. She floats through school, feeling disconnected from peers and family, especially her mother, who swings from supportive to volatile. Another main theme is friendship- a solid, long-term friendship which Deb neglects, and a shorter, intense friendship that consumes Deb's emotional world until it falls apart. This is a story of quiet survival, of incremental steps towards healing, balance, and self actualization. Like life, it is somewhat loose in structure, but the illustrations are stunning.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings read by Angel Pean

Set in a world similar to but one step sideways from our current world, this story follows Jo, a creative, biracial, bisexual woman trapped by the restrictions of her society. In this US, women are under constant suspicion of witchcraft, a crime that can still be punish by public burnings. Women who aren't married by 30 are especially suspected, and have to check in with a counselor bi-weekly, and risk losing their jobs, freedom, and ability to have their own bank accounts or own property. Jo is 28, and while she is causally dating, she has no interest in marriage. She has a hard time believing that love can even exist under the pressures placed on women. It doesn't help that her mother disappeared when Jo was 14, and during the investigation, she was questioned by witch hunters. It's been 7 years and Jo's father decides it's finally time to declare Jo's mom officially dead. This ends up opening up a clause in her will that requests Jo travel to a island in the middle of one of the Great Lakes on a very specific day in autumn and collect a certain fruit that only grows there... This book is so skillfully written, for the first half I was left wondering if magic really did or did not exist; it could just be the excuse that men used to oppress women, queer people, and people of color. But then the book takes a really Kelly Link or Octavia Butler-like twist in the middle and gets weirder and wilder. Highly recommend, especially the audiobook.

How A Mountain Was Made: Stories by Greg Sarris 

A collection of short stories by long time Chairman of the Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria, Greg Sarris; a writer I've been hearing about for years and am finally sitting down to read! These stories are all set around the Sonoma Mountain and Cotati, very close to where I grew up, and I loved being able to picture the foggy mornings, the many oaks, the quail, poppies, lupine, hawks, coyotes, and creeks in these stories. The book has a frame narrative of two crow sisters, Question Woman and Answer Woman, who introduce each story and also appear as characters in one. The stories are interwoven, nearly all set in the village by Copeland Creek where Coyote lives as headman with his wife Frog, his cousin Chicken Hawk, and his many neighbors. The stories use a lot of the kind of repetitive language that lends itself to memorization; I honestly didn't feel like sitting down and reading the book cover to cover wasn't the best way to experience them. It might have been better to flip the book open to a random story and read whichever one caught my eye, especially to read it out loud, either to myself or to a young listener. Maybe I'll get an opportunity to read it that way sometime to a nibling.

The Two Doctors Gorski by Isaac Fellman read by Helen Laser

Annae is a PhD student, a brilliant researcher, and a survivor of academic abuse. She is forced to leave the US when her former mentor claims her research and ruins her name (after sleeping with her). They work in a small field, advanced magic so complex it feels almost more like science, so Annae transfers to a university in the UK to complete her degree. There she finds herself in a cohort of entirely male graduate students under a famous but cruel teacher. Her main defense mechanism and invasive habit is reading minds, a kind of compulsive act that lets her see how her peers view her, and themselves. Unsurprisingly, these insights bring her no peace; Annae tries to rebuild her research, but urge to fall into the same traps as her role models is strong. This is a novella, only about 4 hours as an audiobook, and fairly open ended but I'm still thinking about it.

The Wolf at the Door by Charlie Adhara read by Erik Bloomquist 

In this contemporary murder mystery/romance novel, werewolves exist and have always lived in small numbers around the world. A few years before this story starts werewolves outed themselves to the US government in order to better liaison with law enforcement to address werewolf-human crimes, but the general public still does not know werewolves exist. Cooper Dayton survived a werewolf attack, and is subsequently transferred from his former job at the FBI into the BSI, the Bureau of Special Investigation. When two bodies turn up in the woods in rural Maine, Agent Dayton is chosen for a trial program, and he is paired up with an agent from The Trust, the werewolf government. Dayton is attracted to his new partner, Agent Park, immediately- but when it turns out Park's family is active in the area of the murder, Dayton realizes he can't rule out the possibility that his co-worker might be actively covering for the criminal. This book starts an enjoyable paranormal romance series complete with plenty of spice but also very solid procedural mysteries. I was glad to be able to guess some parts of, but not all of, the mystery as it unfolded and I also thought the romance novel beats hit well!

The Wolf at Bay by Charlie Adhara read by Erik Bloomquist 

At the start of this second installment in my new favorite paranormal romance/murder mystery series, Agent Cooper Dayton and Agent Oliver Park of the Bureau of Special Investigations have been sleeping together for 4 months but still have not defined their relationship. Some of their miscommunications stem from cultural misunderstandings, but more of it comes from them both being too gun shy to be the first one to say "I love you." Meanwhile, Cooper takes Oliver to meet his family in the small town of coastal Maryland where he grew up- introducing Oliver only as his partner at work, because Cooper's family don't know he is gay and also don't know werewolves exist. Then a 25 year old skeleton is uncovered on the Dayton family property, and Cooper and Oliver have to set aside their other issues to solve the cold case, which might implicate one or both of Cooper's parents. A very enjoyable second book which manages to avoid a lot of the things that often bug me in romance novels and develops the relationship in satisfying ways.

The Mermaid, The Witch and The Sea by Megan Tokuda-Hall 

Evelyn, the closeted lesbian teen daughter of nobles in an oppressive and strict empire, sets to sea aboard the Dove on a six month voyage to meet the husband her parents have chosen for her. On the Dove she meets Florian, a sailor her own age she who she befriends despite his lack of education and rough manners. But what Evelyn doesn't know is that Florian is also Flora, an orphan who joined the crew out of desperation and killed a man in cold blood to earn her place. And also- the ship is crewed by pirates, who plan to take all of the passengers as slaves. They have also committed a crime against the very sea itself: the capture of a mermaid with intent to sell it's blood, which men drink to forget. This is a dangerous and violent world, but the connection between Evelyn, Florian/Flora and the mermaid might be enough to save them all, with the help of some cleverness, bravery, magic, and love. This book had some tonal shifts that I struggled with, but I deeply appreciated the multifaceted queer rep.

Thrown to The Wolves by Charlie Adhara read by Erik Bloomquist 

The third book in the werewolf/detective romance series I've been wolfing down on audiobook. In this installment, Cooper Dayton, human BSI agent, is still heaving from the wounds of his previous case when Oliver Park, werewolf BSI agent, learns that his grandfather and head of the pack he abandoned several years ago died. Oliver asks Cooper to come with him to the funeral, and Cooper agrees, having no idea what he's getting into. The couple narrowly avoids a deadly car-crash on the way up to the family mansion in Canada, where Cooper learns that even though Oliver's family is fine with him being gay they are not really fine with him dating a human. Several of Oliver's relatives very explicitly try to scare Cooper off, then he's shot with a tranquilizer in what may or may not be an accident, then it turns out that Oliver's grandfather might not have died of natural causes. Amongst all this chaos, will Cooper decide the wolf world is just too much and that he needs to back away from it? Or will be just dive in even deeper? Even though I could easily guess the answer, I am still very hooked and will definitely read more!

Seraphina by Rachel Hartman 

Seraphina is the assistant composer to the royal family of Goredd, which means she lives in the castle and spends her days auditioning new musicians, leading rehearsals, performing at state functions and giving the vivacious, whip smart, slightly spoiled princess her weekly harpsichord lessons. In two weeks, the most important dragon general will be visiting the capital city to celebrate the 40 year anniversary of the peace treaty between humans and dragons which he negotiated with the current human queen. But then one of the members of the royal family is killed, and some people start pointing the finger at dragons; tensions begin to rise in the city as anti-dragon mobs attack a young dragon traveling the city in his human form. Amidst this tension, Seraphina is even more desperate to keep her longest and darkest secret: that she is half dragon, and carries hidden scales, maternal dragon memories, and a mental link with other powerful beings. This was such an original take on a dragon fantasy, with a rich and complex world, characters that I immediately cared for and rooted for. I'm definitely going to keep reading this series!

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by Charlie Adhara read by Erik Bloomquist 

Human boyfriend Cooper Dayton and his werewolf boyfriend Oliver Park are trying to buy a house together; but their aesthetic sense of what makes an inviting home is vastly different, and neither of them are communicating their needs well to the other. How convenient that their next case for The Trust, the werewolf government, involves them going undercover to a couple's retreat where they will investigate a missing person report while also doing bonding exercises and couple's therapy. Will Cooper finally acknowledge that he was PTSD? Will Park admit their massive family wealth disparity could be a source of tension between them? Will they manage to figure out the link between a threatening park ranger, a local lumber mill owner who wants to buy the land the wolf retreat is built on, not one but two missing employees, the mysterious research of a wolf scientist (who may have experimented on his own children), a wolf pack leader showing up at the retreat unexpectedly? This installment continues the development of the central relationship while also fleshing out the lore and intricacies of the wolf world.

[yukidragon]

Is there any picture of Alice’s family? It would be cool to see them or doodle an idea what they look like :0

Sadly, I haven't been able to draw for a while now due to health reasons, and it might be a while longer before I can again. (Don't worry, it's nothing serious.) A friend of mine offered to draw the oldest three King girls for me though, which is super sweet of her.

I have made picrews of some of the family members to serve as a general idea to work from when I do eventually draw them. It's what I did before drawing Alice's concept sheet too. I find picrews to a good place to consider character appearance in broad strokes.

I'll share some of those picrews with you all if you're curious about my current general ideas. Remember, their designs (and some of their names) aren't completely set in stone yet, as I still need to draw them when I can. This just helps me better get a picture in my mind of what they look like.

As a heads up, each individual picrew can be pretty limited in its options. Sometimes skin tone, eye color, hair type, etc. just won't match with the look I'm going for. These are just the picrews that come closest to what I have in mind right now.

First up is Mama King, who I'm considering naming Lycoris or Lily.

Picrew

Soft, sweet, cuddly, short of stature but big of heart, Mama King absolutely loves her family more than anything else in the world. There's nothing she won't do to protect them and what they love.

Mama King is not only a great mother, but she's also fantastic at growing plants and has won many awards over the years. This is what led to a pretty good business online selling flowers that have been made into charming jewelry and other forms of art by her creative and loving spouse.

The family home has a decent sized plot of land to allow Mama to grow as many plants as she likes. Her gardens are truly a sight to behold, and her one of a kind flowers are to die for.

As you might have guessed, Alice has gotten a few features from her mom, such as her height, curly hair, and her wonderfully soft and cuddly hugs. The coloration, however, was something she inherited from her Papa.

Picrew

I'm still trying to decide on Papa King's name, but I've got a pretty solid idea of what he looks like. Tall, slender, and pale, this proud papa stands out in a crowd, though sometimes under some shade with sunscreen and shades on if it's someplace out in the sunlight. Sadly, being albino means you're more prone to sunburns, and his eyes are more sensitive than most. The picrew can't really give what I have in mind justice, but their eyes are a mixture of pale blue and red due to the lack of pigment.

Papa King is a sensitive soul who loves creating stylish trinkets and jewelry. He struggles with conflict, so their wife is his knight in shining armor much of the time, and that's one of the reasons why they fell in love with her. He also loves their wonderful children, as well as all the cats and dogs the family own. Though quite the homebody, his life is very full with such a busy house and their creative projects, as well as running the business he owns with their wife.

The oldest child of the King family probably doesn't really need an introduction. I mean, I drew Alice and mentioned her on this tumblr plenty of times before. Still, it feels sad to leave her out, so here's a picrew of her and Jack holding hands and dressed for a date.

Picrew

Why yes I'm shameless about my OTP. Welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy the sweet vanilla and spice.

Eventually I'll make a post with the picrews that I used to help me make Alice's concept sheet, but that's for another time. Now onto the next child in this big, happy family.

Picrew

The second oldest was named Barbara Anne, but you'd be forgiven for not knowing that, as everyone calls her Barbie, with her siblings sometimes just calling her Bar. (Alice was the one who first started using that particular nickname when they were very little and it just stuck around.)

Barbie is practically the opposite of her sweet and doting parents. She's a prickly, snarky, and sarcastic misanthrope who prefers animals and 2D characters to humans. Her personality and large stature are usually enough to ward people off. She's taken after her dad with her height and her mom with having a larger frame. Though she's a nerdy otaku, if she hits you, it's going to hurt.

Barbie isn't shy to let people know to back off and leave her alone, quick to deliver barbs and tease others mercilessly if they don't buzz off. Still, like any true tsundere, get past her prickly exterior and there's a softer side that's full of genuine love and affection waiting underneath. The only people she cares about currently are her family and the few friends she made online... and eventually a suitor who is going to need to be a good boy and heel at her command if he wants a chance of making puppies with her.

The most striking thing about Barbie is her eyes. She has central heterochromia, which means both of her eyes are a mixture of brown and blue, not unlike how Papa King's are a mixture of red and blue. She practically lives in t-shirts and sweatpants, which often are themed around anime and games she likes, or offensive snark. Her hair is always a mess, and she keeps it cropped short most of the time so that she doesn't have to bother with it.

Barbie is good with computers and isn't above a little hacking or trolling. Though she's moved out of the King house, she's doing just fine in her own apartment, making money by scamming crypto scammers and the like, among other more legitimate and actually legal jobs.

Don't tell anyone about her secret double life as a streamer with a cutesy anime waifu virtual avatar. She'll make your life hell if you do.

Picrew

Next up is Coraline. I already made a post talking about her and showing off a few of her picrews, so I'll just lightly touch on what I have in mind for her design. She's average height (making her a little taller than big sis Alice), with brown eyes, looks very sickly, and while most of her very curly hair is brown, it lacks some pigment in places. She still lives at home due to her health, and every morning Mama braids her hair up nice and neat, only for it to eventually come increasingly undone and messy by the end of the day. She favors comfortable clothes like sweaters and sweatpants.

The most signature piece of Coraline's look is her pendant. I've actually mentioned the pendant before in a previous post... or at least Alice's version of the pendant and the fact that each King child got one when they were born.

Mama King proposed to Papa with a bouquet of blue roses that she grew specially for them . Blue roses are said to be an impossible flower naturally, very rare, and growing them was her way of showing that she loved him enough to do the impossible for them. Papa preserved each one of the flowers in resin and whenever they're expecting a child, he crafts one into a custom necklace for the child, which is engraved with the baby's name and the date of their birth after they're born.

As an aside, if one of the kids ever wanted to change their name for whatever reason, Papa would be more than happy to alter the inscription to their new name.

The rest of the kids are vague as of the moment, but I know there are at least 4 more of them. They'll be fleshed out eventually over time, along with the pets and any other details about this happy family.

I hope you liked what I've got to share with you so far about the King family, and thanks for showing interest in them. I'm always happy to know that people enjoy my OCs. 💖

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[swiftscion]

✢⁎. pride of isaach - hero drabble (541 words)

A memory:

Defeat stains the coliseum. Along its floors, over its walls--the rippling tide of red sees no end. Iron mixes with silver, and wood and bodily pus to create a stench so foul it can only be compared to death. It's metal and rotting bone. Disgusting. Arenas aren't pretty; the only decor for bloodsports is the blood itself. And the bodies it belongs to aren't quite dead, but without adequate healing, they may as well be. Their lives hang on only by a thread.

Larcei's scissor-blade had been stopped by the voice of an overseer, mere moments from snipping away another human life.

That would be the sixth. Death will not find her here, not while she has so much to lose, and even more to gain. Until the famed technique of her home is known across the continent, until she can be recognized as Ayra's rightful kin, until even the stars in the sky can be chained down and brought back to her, she will continue. Forge onward, and find gold and glory in equal measure. Glory, which will serve as the foundation for the future. Gold, which will be marched upon to meet her destiny. Each acts as a vital step for uncovering her legacy, and finally--finally--embracing the shadow she clings to.

It's all for her. Every battle is for real, every swipe of the sword intent on severing a neck.

The warrior files away, his legs barely carrying him to his barracks. Larcei is allowed to recuperate. Her breath draws in haggard splits, heaving as it struggles beneath the strain on her body. She piles on so much, outmaneuvering and outclashing her opponents. Every stellar swing of Astra takes a minute's worth of breathing to catch up to, once the battle is all said and done. It's like capturing a wildfire inside a bottle, and only letting the smoke rise after the flames have burned.

She thinks she might buckle. The ichor dripping down her neck is the only cool sensation she feels in a world of heat.

But the seventh enters: a general armed with a sterling blade. It is half her height, and nearly twice her width--capable of easily cleaving her in two. But it's slow. Its broad strokes leave open windows to vault over. "Nothin' I can't handle," she tells herself, holding out her mother's Brave Sword to match. Defiance has returned to her, its wellspring of strength helping her forget all that screams at her to stop. Her legs, her arms--her heart beating three times a second. They all fall silent to the beast awakening within. It's at its strongest with its back against the wall.

"You hear that?! You're NOTHING!!"

A flash of white, and she surges forth. Larcei is the first off her feet--naturally--and will be the one to set the pace for the fight. She hopes, for the general's sake, that he can keep up. Because a comet comes full circle in its orbit; miss her, and she'll be sure to remind you of who she is.

And where she's from. This is the pride of Isaach, the will of Od--the star in the sky that burns brightest. Come too close, and even a suit of armor will melt like candlewax.

[owlespresso]

murai yakumo. first time.

started reading blue period back in may. the art is so unique and expressive and i found i could really connect with its messages about art. anyways! i really like the goblin fellow. it's a reader-insert, but it's in third person. she/her pronouns. i've been experimenting with not using second person lately. idk how i feel about it. warnings: spice below the cut, not beta read

The humidity is unusually high for early summer. Times like these make her glad she brought an air conditioning unit from home, her bedroom and studio kept a manageable temperature whilst the kitchen and living room swelter.

Yakumo shows up at one in the afternoon, an hour before he said he would. One of those enormous tarps he’d shouted about using is hefted over his shoulder, two full bags from the convenience store down the street nestled in the crook of his elbow. He lets the tarp flop on the floor of her bedroom, so close to the coffee table that the glasses on top of it wiggle threateningly.

“We’re doing acrylic, right?” he scrunches his nose as he looks at her stained, plastic box of half-used paints, digging through it with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Not my kinda thing, y’know.” His voice is muffled into the fabric of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, carelessly dropping it to the side. The muscles of his abdomen ripple with the movement, vivid strokes of his tattoo alighting his broad shoulders. She eyes the feathers with unabashed curiosity, taking in the rich scarlet, the variation of thickness in the lines.

“Same here, but this is just for fun, sooo…” she trails off, pressing a cold can of coffee to his cheek. Her other hand perches on his shoulder, squeezing the tight muscle that rests there. 

“Art is supposed to be fun all the time,” he reminds her, shoving his shoulder into her hand. He leans into the touch like a particularly affectionate cat. The grin on his face is megawatt and unmistakably smug, eyes creased up with a knowing smile. “Unless you wanna get down to somethin’ else?”

“Egh,” she wrinkles her nose and pulls away, making an exaggeratedly disgusted face. “Nope! Not at all!” She plops down next to him, wipes the fresh sweat off her brow. “You said you’d teach me acrylic, and you’re not weaseling it out it.”

Yakumo barks out a laugh, giving her a waggish smile. He leans back on his hands, palms up against the hardwood floor as he regards her, lax and sly. He’s inordinately comfortable in her room, gaze unashamedly darting away from her to look over the walls and furniture. What kinds of conclusions is he drawing? Do her stuffed animals and frilly knick knacks make him think any different of her?

“You just don’t like acrylic ‘cause it dries so fast,” he says pointedly, pulling a leg up to his chest. His chin rests atop of his knee, eyelids dipping low. 

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re gonna teach me!” she points out a second time, scrutinizing the brushes she’d laid across an old, green towel. The paint has been chipped off the wooden handles, the mark of age and use. 

“What!? I didn’t agree to that…” he grumbles, griping about “giving lessons for free”, indignant and petulant. He helps her, anyways, runs through the basics of a medium he doesn’t really like just to make her happy. 

They paint for around twenty minutes before Yakumi complains of an empty stomach. He spills open the bags he brought with him, allowing the wrapped snacks and sandwiches and pastries he’d brought fall out onto the tarp. 

“You bought all this?” “Nah. Painted a mural on the brick outside for the old lady who runs the place. She owed me one,” he explains with a dismissive wave of his hand, cracking open a package and sinking his teeth into the plush bun of an egg sandwich. True to word, he’s utterly voracious, easily scarfing down that and another, before turning to the entire section of desserts aimlessly strewn on the ground. They’re all packaged, and that’s the only reason she lets him get away with doing it.

“Well, I’m gonna send some emails while you do that,” she hums, hopping back onto the bed. She tucks her back into the pillows piled against the headboard, lowering the brightness of her laptop’s screen with a wince. The case its in is lovingly decorated with an assemblage of stickers she’d purchased over a few weeks.

“Emails?” he scoffs, around five minutes later. By the time she peers over her laptop to look at him, he’s launched himself atop the mattress, body soaring through the air in an arc. He looks like he’s a plank of wood being thrown into a lake. The bed bounces at the impact, prompting her to let loose an alarmed squawk. Her shorts ride up on her upper thighs, threatening to dip into the v-line of her hips.  “Who’re you sendin’ emails to?”

“None of your business,” she sticks her tongue out at him. She nudges him in the arm with her knee. This is the first time she’d had a boy in her bed, she realizes, cheeks growing hot. “Just gimme a minute.”

“Whaaat,” he drawls. He swings an arm over her leg, jostling it is as he tries to pry her attention away from her computer. “You were the one who invited me over here, and now you’re tellin’ me to wait so you can send an email? I expected better hospitality, not gunna lie.”

“Yeah. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “If I could, I wouldn’t be doing it either.”

To his credit, he quiets, remains still and patient whilst she continues to type. The arm he’d fanangled around her knee remains in place, his head tilted to the side enough for her to feel his breath fan across her skin. Unbidden, a hot, molten feeling starts to throb in between her legs. She peeks over her screen, taking in the youthful sculpt of his face, the sweep of his dark bangs. His eyes are shut, lashes settled against his pale cheek. Pursing her lips together, she  returns to the task at hand, yet… 

The sound of his voice reverberates in her ears, the offer he’d made (likely in jest) when he first arrived circling to the forefront of her focus. She feels like a doe on shaking legs, all of the sudden, faced with both desire and the newfound ability to obtain it. Does he think she’s pretty? Is he even really interested in having sex with her? Or had he said it as an offhand joke?

“Yakumo,” she begins, and he stirs against her leg. He grunts lowly in acknowledgement. “You remember… what you said earlier? About doing ‘something else’?”

“Yeah… why? You givin’ it some thought?”

“Were you serious about it?”

“‘Course. Everything I say is serious.” “What? Don’t look at me like that—okay, whatever, but I was serious when I said it.”

“Oh, wow.”

“You’re a little too cool about this. You should be going ‘kya, Yakumo-kun, please fuck me~ I didn’t know how badly I wanted you until now—’”

“Do you want to fuck or not?”

“...Yeah.”

“Then why do you look so… glum about it?”

“‘S nothin’ to do with you. I just don’t want you to feel forced or anything.” he says with a sigh. He turns his face, pressing his nose up against her outer thigh. “You’ve never done this kinda thing before, right? I don’t wanna ruin it for you.”

“I’m pretty sure that counts as having to do with me,” she helpfully informs him. She folds her laptop shut, doing away with the makeshift barrier between them. He looks remarkably unimpressed, lips pressed into a flat line. “But yes,” she says, before he can start pouting about her nonanswer. “I would still be interested. If you are, that is.”

And just like that, his lips curl into a wild smile, the expression completely at home on his face. His arm unwinds from around her legs and he sits up, turning to loom over her with a raised brow. His hand presses up against the plush comforter, his face swooping close to her own. His gaze is more vehement than she’s ever seen it, keen and hyper focused as he looks over over, attention settling on the bow of her lips.

“I’m not the kinda guy who changed his mind once I make a decision,” he says, soft and low, an unspoken vow in those hushed words, like he’s imparting upon her a precious secret. It feels like they’re remarkably away from the rest of the world, sequestered away in the warm, pastel den that is her bedroom. He looms over her, curled in between her legs, rooted firm in her space like a gargoyle sculpted into a cathedral’s side. 

His lips are chapped yet gentle where they meet her own, but his hand presses a little tight to her cheek. She quivers and sighs and shuts her eyes tight, feeling like a bow-legged fawn, unsteady and nonplussed but eager to graze on the new feelings before her. They’ve barely been kissing for a few seconds before his tongue rasps over her mouth, trying to reel her in and drink her deep.

He pulls back before she can open her mouth for him, one of those sharp canines grating over the rosy plump of her bottom lip. 

“Ouch,” she mumbles at the sting, no bite behind it. “Aren’t you supposed to French kiss and be all romantic and gentle before you start getting rough?”

“Life’s not like those corny fanfictions you read,” he chortles, amused as he pushes his face into the column of her neck. She for once is grateful that he isn’t looking at her face. Her complexion blooms florid, cheeks painted apple red. She curses, sensitive at the sparking sensation that sprouts wherever he kisses. “Don’t think about it too hard. Just lay back ‘n let me do all the work, m‘kay?”

She contemplates him for a moment, her nerve threatening to falter in these last, final moments of uncertainty. Her head tilts to the side instinctually, giving him more room. The first scrape of his fangs against her unmarred flash makes her gasp and jolt, body going stiff, goosebumps spreading along her arms and up her legs. He seals his lips against her, sharp teeth sucking devilishly at the pale skin. Her hands fly to grip his upper arms, eyes going wide as ambrosial, molten pleasure throbs in her lower stomach. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, tilts her head in an aborted nod. Yakumo, who emanates confidence and carries himself with the brash alacrity of someone who has done this before. She settles against her pink, fleecy comforter. She feels like a bird settling into its nest, allowing all her weight to fall into the pile of pillows at her back.

“Atta girl,” Yakumo mumbles, and his big hands all but tear her tanktop away from her. Their disrobing is a whirlwind of motion, his big hands pulling her tank top over her head and sliding her shorts and panties all the way down her legs. He doesn’t stop to admire her after she’s bare and in front of him, diverting from just about every fanfiction she’s ever read but also granting her a moment to collect her wits and scrounge for any courage left within her. He stands on her mattress and sloughs his pants and boxers, grunting as his cock pops up to stand stiff against his stomach.

Only then does his ashen blue gaze finally return to her prone form. He drops to his knees, plummeting all his weight onto the mattress at once. She squawks as the bed bounces and creaks in protest, instinctively curling her legs to her chest lest he land on them. 

“Nah, nah, nah,” Yakumo huffs, big hands curling around her ankles to encourage them backwards. His hands are warm, palms unexpectedly rough. He tugs lightly, coaxing but not forcing. Some of the stubborn, clinging trepidation that’s kept ahold of her is assuaged at the gentility he treats her with. “C’mere, baby, it’s alright.” He coos, expression curled into a mocking facsimile of pity. 

“Ugh, you don’t have to talk to me like that,” she grunts, ignores the way her cunt throbs at the manhandling. 

“I think you like it, though,” Yakumo hums, curled over her. He paws at her breast, idly admiring her chest before placing a chaste kiss over her nipple. The touch, however light, makes her stiffen regardless. 

He spends, in her humble opinion, too much time there. Long fingers squeeze and knead her left breast, pinching her nipple between her thumb and forefinger before lifting, the jolt of pleasure-pain making her squeal and arch her back. He pushes and pulls the plump mound of flesh, humming with delight when he finds something new to make her squirm and squeal. A part of her wants to be indignant about how delighted he seems to tease her, but it’s hard to protest or whine about she’s at the mercy of his nimble fingers. 

Her hands fly onto his shoulders, fingers curling, head too devoid of thought to worry about the red lines she’s scratching onto his pale skin. Knowing him, he’ll wear them with pride tomorrow, brag about them to those classmates he spends so much time with.

But this moment is for them and them alone, bodies curled and caged around each other like threads twined into rope. 

“Haah, you’re so cute,” he purrs, voice low and raspy. His hips rut up against her like he’s an animal in heat, thick heat of his cock rubbing up against her inner thigh. He’s agonizingly, tantalizingly close to her wetting cunt. Her walls flutter around nothing, anticipation mounting in her lower tummy as she finds the words to encourage him. “You got no idea how hard it’s been… keeping my hands off you when you wear those slutty little shorts—”

“They’re not slutty,” she protests, but her cunt squeezes at the crude insult regardless.

“Nah,” he refutes with casual ease. “They’re pretty slutty,” The hand that’d been tormenting her chest glides down her side, giving her hip a fond squeeze before wandering to the crux of her inner thighs. Her spine goes ramrod straight, eyes blowing wide as he slips his fingers over her cunt. He toys idly with her folds, fingers caressing and prodding and teasing. The pad of his thumb rolls over her clit in little circles, coaxing breathy moans and low keens from her lips. Her thighs squeeze around his hand. He tsks, shoving her her right leg apart with his free hand, holding her open for him.

“Sorry—AH!” her voice pitches into a high squeal as he gathers her dewey wetness on his fingers. She swallows and gasps and whines, legs kicking pathetically against the comforter. He grins a sharp-toothed grin, devious and knowing as he slips a finger inside of her, rubbing circles up and down her silken walls. 

The hesitance he’d shown merely a few minutes ago is completely gone, replaced by a fervent, manic eagerness as he fingers her. His pupils, blown wide, force his stormy blues into thin, vibrant rings. The wet squelching and slicking sounds fill the room alongside her gasps and whines. Her hands scramble atop the blanket, grabbing fistfuls of the heavy fabric to squeeze. The muscles of her thighs twitch as he adds a third finger, her eyes shutting and her head lolling backwards. 

Those nimble digits roll ribboning circle patterns up and down the warm walls of her cunt, just barely grazing that sweet, spongy spot that makes her throw her head back and sob. Her thighs try to snap shut, but he holds them fast, expression wrinkling with a sneer.

“Real sensitive, ain’tcha?” he says. She licks the sweat from her upper lip, eyes glazed as she attempts to cobble together a sensible reply. She’s sensitive? Wouldn’t any girl being touched like this react in the same way? She wants to say as much, but the current of pleasure rolls over her body and tosses her amongst its tides. She shifts again, whimpering as the burgeoning ecstasy slowly crescendos into its peak. “Stop squirmin’ so much.” he grumbles under his breath.

He slaps at her inner thigh with his open palm, prompting her to yelp. She goes shock still, the stinging sensation coalescing with that sanguine pleasure, throwing her straight over the edge of her imminent bliss. She cums messy all over his hand, juices spilling over his fingers and palm, dripping onto the blanket below. 

“Oh? You liked that?” Yakumo hums, fingering her through the orgasm, prolonging it into shaking, stuttering ripples. Throttled by the white hot feeling

“We shoulda used a towel,” Yakumo grumbles, making no move to climb out of the bed. “You got any condoms?”

“On the pill,” she mumbles, lifting a trembling hand to cover her eyes. She still feels like she’s shaking, like she can’t pull the air into her lungs fast enough, a skittering stumbling mess of sensation she’s never encountered before. 

“Oi,” Yakumo’s hand curls around her wrist. She inhales sharply, but he doesn’t try and tug it anywhere. He rubs circles on the underside with his thumb, a soothing gesture, she realizes after a moment of dazed befuddlement. “Are you alright? C’mon, talk to me.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, lips curling into a small smile. “Are you gonna, uh—”

“Fuck you? Yeah, if that’s what you want,” he says, touch slipping away from her warmed skin. The mattress creaks as he repositions, knees digging into the surface on either side of her. She gasps as the head of his cock catches on her clit, hot and wet and thicker than she’d anticipated. She can take it, she’s sure, driving back any and all doubt—no, any and all thought for the sake of remaining lax and open. 

Still, the gravity of what he’s about to do to her sinks in. Her first time, she recalls distantly, her first time handed off on a whim, all because the handsome boy on top of her made a joke.

But, she wants this. She wants to be so relentlessly full of him, replete with his cum, sated by his fingers and cock. The idea of separating from him and facing the cold, empty air of the room almost frightens her more. 

“God, yes,” she hiccups, eyes shutting tight. Her toes curl, feet pressing hard into the mattress as he eases inside, silken skin dragging along her walls. It’s entirely thicker than any one of his fingers had been, stretching her open and filling her full and heavy. She can feel every inch of him, every ridging vein, with mind-numbing clarity. Her pants and heavy breaths spill into soft whines at the stretch, the awkward ache making her body shift and flex and writhe. Her pulse throbs in her ears, a sudden onslaught of panic breaching the haze he’d blanketed her in.

“Shit,” Yakumo curses quietly, breaking through her mind’s incessant buzzing. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight, babe—it’s okay, you’re alright,” he hushes her, resting a hand over her little fist, still balled in the comforter beneath her. His lips dance a small trail up and down her neck, over her collarbones. He stokes that burgeoning flame within her, distracts her from the irrational worry that her mind attempts to crowd her with. 

His other hand rests over her lower stomach, thumb rolling circles onto her slicked skin, an attempt to assuage her pain that makes her bite her lip, nerves dipping and soothing. Her eyes flutter shut as his pelvis meets her hips, slotting them together in a way that is cogent and concrete, undeniable and unignorable. Where had they been, all of thirty minutes ago? Still playing with their paints and markers?

She can’t quite find the answer, and the question itself disappears entirely once he pulls his hips back and slots them forward. That blessed, molten pleasure pours through her, avulses all thought from her nagging mind. He fucks her nice and slow, each stroke pushing places inside her that she’s never reached, unscoured planes of her body made to shake and quiver with each roll of his hips, each touch of his fingers. If she shuts her eyes she can pretend his sighs are wedding vows, her cries a prothalamion heralding the union between them. 

Opening her eyes, she glances up to his face. He looks just as dazed and wrecked as she feels, cheeks stained scarlet, lips parting around moans and sighs as he ruts into the welcoming grip of her pussy. Her little body shuddered, fingers breaking away from the sheets to curl around his own, gripping him tight as he bowed down, hooking sharp teeth into her collarbone. 

“Fuck,” he moans, voice breaking, choking. “Just like that, just like that—” he keeps talking, rasping out half-thought through praises between noises until his cock hits a spot that makes them both groan. He presses in just right, forces squeals and whimpers and other pitiful noises from her kiss-drunk lips. 

She gives mindless little “ah, ah, ah”s, lost to the ravenous rhythm he sets. Her spine arches, her hips roll, and she boils over the lid as his fingers dive between their bodies, clumsily toying with her clit.  Her body feels as though its aflame, swollen cunt holding him tight every time he pulls free, welcoming him back with a loving squeeze with each brutal reentry. 

He trades his honed technique for desperate roughness. He bullies her over into another orgasm with the rough pads of his fingers, spreading her dewey slick over the overwrought bunch of nerves.

A shudder rolls down his spine as she squeezes and milks him, each sanguine roll of his hips drawing him closer and closer to his own peak. She can feel it in the twitching of his thighs, in the way he veers off his rhythm and fucks into her, full weight behind every thrust. He’s chasing his own pleasure, now, using her. She swallows, flushes and clenches around him at the thought. He comes with a gasp, shoved over the edge

She watches, hazy and idly transfixed. He paints a beautiful picture, dark lashes set against his flushed cheeks, lips glistening as they part. He trembles with a low growl of her name, the gravel in his voice making her shiver. For a single moment, only the sound of their breaths filling the silence that lingers between them. A syrupy feeling settles over her mind and body, eyes slipping shut as she sinks into what she assumes is the afterglow.

His forearms tense, thighs shaking as he pulls out. A gross schlicking sound parts the balmy air, the loss of him rendering her as empty as she’s ever felt. Without him there to warm her, the space between her legs starts to cool, causing her to wrinkle her nose. The mess they’ve made has not escaped her. Their bodies are caked with sweat. Yakumo collapses onto his side, pressing tight to the comforters in an effort to cling to that tender warmth.

He says something, but she doesn't quite catch it. The rumble of his voice has gone raspy with extensive use. She tilts her head to look at him, eyelids dipped low and cheeks still hot.

“What?”

“Hah!” he bursts out in erumpent laughter at the sight of her face, the noise so abrupt and jarring that it completely knocks her from the afterglow. She blinks at him, perhaps stupidly, completely unaware to what he finds so hilarious. 

“What!?” she demands. She gives him an affronted frown.

“I fucked you stupid,” he chortles. Heat rushes to her cheeks and her eyes go wide, completely scandalized despite the lewdity of everything they’d just done. 

“Fucked stupid?” she echoes with a brusque scoff. Surely not. She makes a face as she tries to turn onto her side, shifting away from the wet mess they’ve made. In a few minutes, she’ll get up and lug the comforters to the washing machine. “No… I just… didn’t hear you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yakumo snorts dismissively. “But it was good, right?” He rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, his smug grin dissolving into contemplative neutrality. She’s sure she looks a mess, covered in sweat and bruises and their mixed essence, but she feels just fine—great, even. There’s a strange kind of giddiness that accompanies the halcyon fatigue of the afterglow, a feeling she can only chock up to delighted disbelief that she’d done this in the first place, despite all of her reservations and her self-doubt. 

“Yeah,” she echoes quietly, contentedly. “It was really good. Thank you, Yakumo.”

“Good. S’ no problem,” Yakumo says with a small hmph, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he closes them, seemingly content to idle atop her comforter. Unfortunate, for him, because she’s dead set on getting them off the bed and into the wash as soon as possible. But for now, while she finally regains the confidence to stand on her wobbly legs, she thinks she’ll let him rest.

[anemia-rp]

Through his half closed glossy eyes, Xuan gazes down at Teru for a moment with a smile. "You are not flawed, my love. You are perfection embodied in my eyes." Another soft kiss planted on his neck, Xuan's lips now brushing slowly onto the warm skin as he goes down onto the incubus's collarbone, towards his chest, leaving more kisses here and there. "Mmm... At least I can rest assured that you won't break my delicate heart. No no no, I am more than certain that my love will take good care of it!~" The beautiful young mob pulls back once more, staring down at Teru and the new love bites he's left onto his caramel tinted skin, the bright purplish red of their hue contrasting with the dark black lines of the younger's tattoos. As if impressed by his own work, Xuan then starts tracing the outline of the tattoo covering Teru's chest with his delicate fingers. "I think you are just as beautiful if not more so than me." The smile turns into a delighted grin playing at Xuan's pretty pink lips.

"I don't know how much of a magician I am, since I'm pretty sure the stiffness of your pretty 'wand' isn't the result of a spell, but that of your undying love for me.~" Xuan strokes him a few more times before finally making up his mind that tonight he's feeling like trying something new he hasn't tried before. "Mmm... In fact, I'd even say you're not just hard, but rightfully as hard as a rock, baby!~" Not breaking their eye contact, Xuan then reaches for the nightstand drawer, rummaging in it for the lube bottle, before finally finding and retrieving it successfully. "You're going to make your Master feel so good tonight! You should be proud of you, angel!~ You're a very verrry good boy!~" More praise words pour out just like the lube pours now onto Xuan's hand, coating his palm with its sticky viscosity. The raven haired then starts applying it onto Teru's manhood, making sure he doesn't leave an inch of his cock unlubbed, before doing pretty much the same to his own behind. Once done, Xuan then uses his hands propped onto Teru's abdomen for more stability and positions himself above the incubus's erection. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, Xuan then starts sitting down on him, allowing Teru to enter him little by little, stretching him out and filling him up. "F-Fuck..." He moans softly, his voice shaky, as he tries adjusting to that new feeling and Teru's size.

"Perfection meets perfection then. 'Cause you're just as fucking perfect as me." The pure affection he feels for the other glints in his eyes, just like his desire. The reassuring words and the sweet kisses being spread on his upper body will make it easy to him to ease into all this and offer Xuan a new pleasure. He can imagine how beautiful he must look like with the other's marks on his skin, but for now it's only for Xuan's eyes to admire it. Admire /him/. His chest lifts and lowers visibly when he receives not only touches but gets worshipped. "Master." His long fingers glide through the other's wonderful hair. "All that makes me wanna give you everything I can even more." He sighs infatuatedly, wrapping one of the raven strands around his index finger. "And yeah. Fuck yeah, you're right. Must be the magic of love then." Biting his lower lip and having his eyes rolling back he smirks dreamily, enjoying all this lovely talk as much as the dirtier nuances. "Hell yeah. My dick's all yours, do with it whatever you wanna do." Being praised he closes his eyes and nods, whined cutely. The noise however becomes a little shaky when Xuan starts massaging him down there. He's sensitive a lot to those touches from his beloved, and he enjoys it a lot to be spoiled like this. Being ready to provide Xuan one of the biggest pleasures. Watching him out of halfway closed eyes, the long lashes drawing some light shadows onto his broad cheek bones. He doesn't want to miss one second of the sight being about to present itself right above his lap now. He doesn't have the smallest dick in the world, that's for sure so it won't become too easy to take him, but they will make it work. And once he feels how his tip breaks Xuan's muscle and soon glides in this wonderful heat, being sucked in by it, he moans breathily, fully bewildered about this special sensation they share for the first time. And his arousal increases even more when he can tell that Xuan enjoys it, too. He grabs the sheets tightly with both hands, trying hard not to cum too soon. He wants to grant Xuan quite some time to have his fun.

@phoenix-of-jade

[duskamethyst]

Head empty, just toji praising you by saying “that’s my girl,” 🧎‍♀️

i woke up to this message one morning and it made my coochie tingle so you know i had to write it for ya.

warnings: praising kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, soft dom toji putting you in a full nelson

once toji set his mind on something, best believe he will do it. 

“oh, you’re not gonna cum for me just once tonight, princess.”

but you kind of wish he was kidding because now your body is already spent from being the subject of his notions. 

yet, he hasn't even put his cock in. 

it feels like hours of having toji’s head between your thighs with your legs folded to your chest and draped over his broad shoulders. you don’t even know how many times he has made you cum from his tongue and fingers alone. he just kept on coaxing orgasms after orgasms as if addicted to the way you keen and writhe underneath him.

by the time he finally draws away from you, a smug smile is already seated on his face. he is evidently complacent as he lets you see the mess you made on a part of his face; a sheen of spit and your own arousal smeared on his lips and chin.

“you can give me more, right?” he whispers softly as he strokes the swollen bud.

“t-too much already–” that’s what you say and think, but your overstimulated body is quick to respond to his touch. you never knew you could be so greedy.

“are you sure?” his voice entwines with mischief, eyes fleeting over to your trembling legs. “you want me to leave you like this? is that what you want?”

you can only hope he can read the desperation in your eyes, but you know better. toji loves putting you on edge just so he can make you say the things he wants to hear.

“i hope your fingers can make you cum again.” he taunts, knowing well that touching yourself won’t make you feel satisfied the way only he can.

“no– p-please put it in–” you sob, face flushing with shame as much as arousal. 

a playful smirk tugs on his lips as he pretends to ponder over your request for a moment. “hmm, why should i?” 

“‘cause– i need you– need to feel full– need you s-so much–” 

“mm, my needy girl.” he chuckles and pulls away from you to sit by your side, his back leaning against the headboard, legs stretched while his cock fully erected and leaking precum. “why don’t you show me how much you need me?”

you crawl towards him with remnant energy you’ve gathered and prop yourself on your knees with each leg on his sides. you wrap your fingers around his throbbing cock to align with your entrance before lowering your hips to impale yourself on his cock. 

“fuuuck– take it all, baby.” toji hisses from behind you as he watches his dick seamlessly disappear into your wet cunt.

you moan in pleasure from the stretch, finally feeling full from simply being filled to the brim. his own body is flushed with primal heat when you clamp down on him, much more when you start to grind your hips salaciously. 

“that’s it. good girl.” his voice drops an octave as he speaks while his half lidded eyes are glued on the rippling flesh of your ass as you hump on his fat cock desperately like a bitch in heat. 

toji can feel you clench around him harder from the praise, forcing profanities to elicit from his throat. “fuck. you like that, don’t you? you like being my good girl?”

“y-yes–! ‘m your good girl–” you whimper, the sound pitchy and pathetic than you meant it to be.

“god. as much as i love seeing your cute ass,” he leans closer to maneuver both of his inner elbows under and over your inner knees before pulling you back to fall down on top of his burly chest. “i’d be fucking stupid not to fuck you back.” 

now you are forced into a compromising position and you can’t move. your pussy is exposed to cold air as your legs are forced to be wide open and folded up to your chest while his larger frame effortlessly carries your weight.

“this is much better, isn’t it?” his husky voice sweeps into your ear, sending tingling sensations down to your core. “gonna make you feel every inch of my fat cock.”

without wasting even a second, toji bucks his hips and plunges his dick deep inside you. a wanton moan passes your lips, the deep stroke of his thick cock making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl.

“then i’m gonna breed this tight pussy.” he growls in your ear, holding you close to his body as he fucks into you relentlessly. 

“f-feels good–!” your breathing turns into quick puffs of air, tongue lolling out from your gaping mouth. 

his thrusts are deep and unforgiving. you can feel the tip pounding against your cervix as he ravages your poor little cunt like a feral beast. 

“mhm. that’s what– hah– you get for being such a good girl.” he says between grunts and his own senses are going mad from having his dick squeezed between your walls.

having you so sensitive makes it quicker for the pressure to tighten in your lower stomach, though it feels more intense than what you’re familiar with and the way it’s threatening to snap is far more alarming than it usually was. 

“yeah, shit– just like that.” he pumps into you harder, evoking lewd squelches from your sopping cunt.

“t-toji– ‘m gonna–” you whine and babble, your clouded mind makes it so hard to form any complete and coherent sentences anymore. 

but toji understands you because he can feel it inside too; your walls sucking and trying to keep him within while you clearly seem like you can’t take it anymore. 

“i got you, baby. cum for me.” warmth oozes from his voice and it’s weirdly affectionate despite how his hips are still sporadically rutting into you. 

as soon as his finger reaches to rub your pulsing clit, your whole body tenses and your vision blurs white. you cry into the night as a wash of pleasure crashes throughout your being; it has a rush you’ve never tasted before but it leaves you utterly gratified. 

his cock twitches at the sight of you squirting in front of him, the translucent liquid spurting all over the place as your pussy flutters around him.

“god, that’s it. that’s my girl.” he purrs into your ear, praising you and attempts to calm you down while he helps you ride out your high. 

the next minutes pass as a blur as you let your body be used until his hips stutter and you hear him growl as he cums deep inside you.

toji finally lets go of your legs and you wince when the ache on your lower body becomes prominent. he rolls you next to him, pressing your warm and sweaty bodies together and he grazes your skin with his thumb gently.  

“you did so well for me.” he mumbles from behind you, his deep voice resounds in your ear as you relax against his bare chest before allowing darkness to consume you. 

“my good girl.”

[wornoutmouse]

Look I wrote this for my friend but i popped the hell off with this one so if you don’t mind reading a name inbetween a few dialogue points pls read

You ran hurriedly through the halls of the school as the third bell finally rang. You had overslept and had barely made it onto the bus. Skidding to a stop, you slow down when you get to the door, catching your breath before entering. Just as you annoyingly expected, eyes dart towards you as soon as you entered, effectively catching the teacher’s attention.

 “This is the second time you are late young lady, one more time and I will have no choice but to write you up.” You smile awkwardly, “Sorry Miss, it won’t happen again.”  Ms. Bustier clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she watched her student walk to her seat, head hanging low. You sit down in your chair with a soft sigh as Ms. Bustier spoke about today’s lesson.

For the most part, you pay attention to the lesson being taught, that is until your attention is being interrupted by a pencil poking your side. From your peripheral vision, you see fluffy blond hair swaying gently to get your attention. You mutter under your breath, swiping the pencil with your hand, “Quit it Adrien I’m already in trouble.” The boy huffs but the playful aura still hung around making your skin buzz with excitement.

 Shifting in your seat, you squint your eyes at the smartboard, writing down notes every so often. Looking down once again, you notice a small piece of paper folded, You look at Adrien who boredly watched your teacher speak. Opening the paper you roll your eyes at the note inside. 

A - Late again are you Miss Mia? One more time and I might have to wake you up myself

Nibbling the tip of your pencil you write a note back, crumpling the paper before tossing it at Adrien’s head with a smirk.

You- Well maybe I wouldn’t have been so tired if you hadn’t interrupted my study time with your modeling rants

The paper is tossed back at your head, catching in your curly hair, making Adrien snort.

A- Well I can think of other ways to keep you up at night...

You cough loudly at the message, eyes darting at Adrien’s laid-back figure. You scribble down a quick snarky reply with shaking hands. You go to pass the paper but the sound of a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn to your left and are forced to look up, gulping when you notice your teacher’s signature white blazer. She holds her hand out and you reluctantly place the ball of paper in her hand.

“While I will not embarrass you by reading out your hidden messages, I will embarrass you by writing you up for detention.” Sputtering, you point an accusing finger at the smug boy behind you, “He started it first I was just..” You are hushed by a firm hand on your shoulder, “Well if that’s the case, both you and Adrien can join each other at study hall.” Adrien groans behind you and you throw a glare his way, one that he responds with a teasing wink. The sound of the bell ringing grimly reminds you of the dreadful time awaiting you in study hall after school.

 When you get thereAdrien is already there and waves you over to him. You narrow your eyes at him but sit next to him anyway. “Aww don’t look at me like that Mi, it’s not my fault you aren’t stealthy enough to pass a simple note in class.” You roll your eyes, “Well if you weren’t tossing notes like a child, we wouldn’t be here either.” Adrien laughs loudly earning a sharp look from the detention monitor. 

He mutters a silent apology as you busy yourself with a notepad and pencil. The study hall is silent and boring and 11 minutes feel like 11 hours as the clock ticks by. Adrien watches your small scribbles turn into different shapes and sizes. Before long, he notices you drawing a rather familiar face. “Whatcha drawing?” You shrug, watching your pencil make the shape of cat-like ears.

You continue drawing, briefly recognizing Adrien’s body heat as he watches over your shoulder. “You like Chat Noir huh?” Your precise pencil strokes outline the lean frame of one of Paris’s heros. While it is undoubtedly Chart Noir in a heroic setting, the way his eyes slant a little more than his mask allows and the way one of his hands rested on his chest did give way to a more seductive undertone. 

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot not gonna lie.” Adrien hums, the feeling of his short breaths blowing against your shoulder makes you shiver. “Really? Well, he can’t be hotter than I can he?” Adrien fluffs his hair pompously as he stretches his body lazily. “I don’t know maybe a little.” Adrien sticks his tongue out at you.

Your monitor stands up and walks towards the door before turning around, “Listen you two, I am going to get lunch, and I better see you two here when I come back or you’ll get worse than detention.” The teacher fixes you both with a long look before leaving. “They are a little stiff in the ass.” You chuckle resting your head on your palm. Adrien slouches in his chair to play on his phone, giving you the perfect opportunity to observe him. Your friend is attractive, that is something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago, hiding your crush away deep in your mind. 

“You like to stare at me when you think?” His tenor voice startles you out of thought and you realize you now have his full attention. Your face is warm and for once you are glad you couldn’t visibly blush. 

“Hey, Adrien? What did you mean by that last message you passed me in class?” You tried to pass the question off as casual but you could feel your heart racing as the room filled with daunting silence. “What do you think I meant?” 

Suddenly Adrien felt too close and the room felt smaller. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes were slanted just like Chat Noirs on your drawing. “You tell me.” You said boldly. Adrien pondered for a while, green eyes observing your features, going from your eyes, down your nose before finally resting on your plump lips. “Well, I think it meant exactly what it said.” Adrien placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm. “So tell me why you like Cat Noir?” You stare at nothing, unable to compute the absurd request that came seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?” Adrian’s hand doesn’t stop moving on your thigh, heating your skin through your jeans. “Come on Mi, humor me for a moment.” You hum softly in an attempt at calming your heart rate. “Well, I like how he seems to enjoy what he does,  saving people...” As you speak Adrien takes the time to scoot closer to you paying a sparing glance at the door your teacher left out of a moment ago. “What would you do if you met him?” His hands got closer to your inner thigh fiddling with your belt loops.

The urge to clench your legs together was immediate as the fire within you grew stronger. “I would thank him for his service and-” Adrien shushes you with the sound of your belt clinking a loose. “Let me rephrase, what do you want him to do to you?” Before you had comprehended your predicament, Adrien’s hand had found itself inside your pants.

You were sitting rigidly in your chair, lips parted in a silent exhale. Slender fingers focused themselves on your swelling bud, pressing soft circles on it in an effort to coax it out of its hood. Noting your tensed posture, Adrien tries to distract you. He’ll admit even to himself that this was a bold move on his part and he was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off at this point. “I can stop if you want me to?” You feel his fingers stop their ministrations and you quickly grab his wrist. “No!”

His concerned demeanor is quickly wiped away by a broad smirk as his fingers resumed their task. “Okay then.” He places a kiss on your shoulder through your shirt making you shiver. “You didn’t answer my question.” You nod and try to speak in a stable manner. “I would want him to- oh god!” Adrien’s fingers began to work overtime as they went down to your lips, now wet with your arousal. “I would want him to touch me there! Please.” 

Lips latched lazily on your skin, sucking hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough for marks to be left behind. “Where is’ there’ Mia? Use your words.” Your back arched in your chair when you felt his slick index finger playfully dip inside of you before returning to your clit.  “Adrien~” Your soft moans were audible now, and every small whimper made his cock ache at the thought of being the cause of your sweet noises. Adrien mockingly hummed, “Oh I see now.”

“You want him to fuck that pretty pussy of yours don’t you?”  You make a strange noise that is a mix of surprise and a moan. You’d never think words like those could leave Adrien’s mouth. “Y-Yes!”  Adrien nodded moving to use both hands now, it was an awkward position but it was worth it seeing you fall apart by his hands. “I bet you think of him at night, kissing you slowly, while his hands roam your body.”  Adrien sinks his teeth in your shoulder blade making you jerk as a particularly hard burst of pleasure racks your body. “You look so damn sexy like this kitty cat.’

You lean forward, holding yourself up by your desk as Adrien’s fingers move faster on your clit. “I can feel how fast your heart is beating, you gonna cum?” The teasing tone in his voice ignited the smallest ounce of competitiveness within you. You grit your teeth and shake your head, “Don’t get so full of yourself Agreste.” Your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of a finger finally entering you. Adrien looked at you with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a fan when you got competitive, especially when you were obviously bluffing.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as your orgasm got closer. Adrien focused on the way your walls quivered around his finger. Your choked-back moans cut the air as he pumps his finger faster. Your wetness was dripping onto your underwear and around his palm making squelching noises. “Are you sure you aren’t going to cum?” Adrien whispered close to your ear taking glee when a tremor passed down your spine. Your orgasm was too damn close for him to stop so you decide to swallow your pride just this once. “F-faster, Adrien, I’m close.” Those were indeed the wrong words to say. Adrien slowed his finger down to slow pumps while his thumb pressed harshly on your clit. He laughed as he could practically feel it throbbing, “I thought you said you weren’t going to cum?” You try to grind down on his hand, bucking slightly as his rough palm stimulated your sensitive lips. “Don’t be an ass ah-fuck!”

You grip the edge of your desk as you finally cum on his hand. Your eyelids flutter and Adrien marvels that the feeling of your cunt that was squeezing him so tightly he could neither tell if it was pulling him in or pushing him out. 

You grunt as he removes his finger, when you look over at him, he is preoccupied with pulling his cock out while licking his fingers clean of your cum. Adrien whimpered around his fingers as his other hand jerked his cock sharply “Ah, you taste better than I thought.” Your eyes travel down his chest to meet his junior. It was thick and surprisingly long. You couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the angry red it was at the tip. But the vein traveling up the side made your mouth water.

His hips bucked to meet his hand desperately. Curses left his soft lips as he tossed his head back in pleasure. A deep warmth flooded your gut from the vibrant imagery of him fucking you with it. “Mia-ah shit.” You raise your head up to meet his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at how the green of his eyes was almost completely drowned by his pupils. “It’s not fair if I helped you get you off, but you won’t help me.” You scootch forward a little bit, swallowing your saliva, “What do you want me to do?” Adrien spread his legs with his hands holding the sides of his chair, “Come on Mi, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’ve already gone dumb?” 

A hand comes on your shoulder and gently coaxes you down to your knees. You feel small as Adrien peers down at you,  gaze disrupted as his cock begins twitching in front of you. Nervousness enters your head as you quickly come to the realization of how large his dick actually was. “What, are you afraid Mia? Or do I need to get you into the mood?”  Adrien sits up straighter, “Claws out.”  Your tilt your head curious as he combs his fingers through his hair, revealing...cat ears? The sight of a green glow slithering around his body was almost as unnerving as the sight of his outfit changing right before you. 

In little as no time flat, Paris’s neighborhood hero sat in front of you in all his leather glory. His eyes seemed even greener than before, and his personality seemed to change right before you. “Adrien you’re Chat Noir!?” The blond shrugs nonchalantly, gripping his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Mi I am all for the formalities, but I am so close to fucking your brains out right now, that I think it would be in your best interest to start sucking.” While still being conscious of your hairstyle, Adrien...Noir, pulls your head closer to his groin.

You resist the urge to scrunch your face at the feeling of precum being smeared on your mouth and chin. This resistance only makes Noir chuckle, “Stick your tongue out for me.”  As if it was routine, you do as he says and moan softly from the feeling of his tip tapping your warm muscle. “So fucking perfect for me.”  The praise makes you clench and gives you the courage to open your mouth wider. You suck on his member making him release a pleased growl. His hand laid limply on the back of your head as you take the lead.

The salty taste while slightly unpleasant, wholly addictive. Feeling your growing comfort, Adrien begins thrusting to meet your mouth. The tip of his cock goes all the way to the back of your throat making you choke before dragging back but the sounds of you struggling doesn’t dissuade him. The feeling of your tongue grazing over his vein just before your throat constricted around him drove him wild. Your tiny whimpers made his balls vibrate as he moved faster.

You place your hands on his thighs in order to stable yourself as his thrusts got more brutal. Slob collected around your mouth before dripping down your chin and finally collected by his balls every time they hit your jaw. “Fuck I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum!” Adrien’s voice pitched higher as his claws scratched into the wooden chair of his seat. His head tossed back violently as his thrusts became sloppy, legs shaking. Loud sobs left his mouth as you bright him closer to the edge each thrust is accentuated by filthy words. “Your mouth is so. fucking. Tight. Fuck Mia!”

You felt cum shoot down your throat as Adrien holds your head painfully against this crotch. He weakly thrusts into your mouth a few more times before realizing you. Gasping for air, you wipe your mouth of saliva and look up at Adrien as he catches his breath.  Rough hands grip your chin making you look up at him. “You looked wrecked Mi.” Adrien laughs as he wipes cum off the corner of your mouth.  You stand up wobbly and albeit a bit light-headed, Adrien stands with you and kisses your lips, enjoying the taste of himself in your mouth.

“We are going to finish this later.” Before your brain could even prompt you to ask, the bell rings signaling that detention was over. Adrien deactivates his miraculous before grabbing his backpack and leaving detention hall.

[littlepadika]

🎀 pink (Din)

🧼 laundry detergent (fake dating)

🍄cottage core (innocent kink)

with some fluff and smut included maybe?? 🥺👉👈💘

Hi @ppslutt I don't think we've interacted so hello! Thank you for this request! Omg i am both soft and amused by this idea. Hope you like this... Din is such a cheeky bb but at the same time a feral fucking machine hehe

500 follower celebration (closed now)

Warnings: Asshole ex boyfriend, protective mando, innocent reader, unprotected piv smut, fingering, 18+

source: @reilink

"Can I sit here?"

Din startled. He had been glaring holes into the metal table at the cantina for so long he almost forgot there were other people around. He was in between bounties. Waiting for Karga to come up with something worth his time.

He nodded at the seat across from him which you fell into. He would usually say no, preferring to be left alone, but you were hardly a threat. Young and apparently unarmed. You looked stressed. Eyes darting all over the room. Were you in trouble?

"Thank you." You tapped your fingertips on the table. "My ex is here and I don't want him to see me alone."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No." You stare down at your lap. "I just don't want to talk to him."

That made sense, but Din couldn't understand why you were talking to him specifically. Most people feared Mandalorians. He expected you to want to hire him or ask him to kill your ex. You glanced over your shoulder. Din followed your gaze, identifying the man in question, an arrogant looking human with his arm around a girl with her back to you both.

"I'll leave you alone in a minute." You turned your attention back to him. "What's your name, sir?"

"Mando." He grunted. You replied with your name. Din's ears perked up when he heard it. The sound of it echoing in his mind. He had never heard such a name before. "Have you ever seen a Mandalorian before?" Din couldn't help but ask.

"Is that what you are?" You felt embarrassed at his amused tone. "Am I supposed to bow or something?"

Din chuckled, which came out as a crackle through the voice coder. "No. But people tend to stay away from me because- because we're killers."

"Oh." You swallowed a gasp. It never occurred to you to be afraid. "I didn't know. I've never been off world."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You snapped your head up to see your ex standing over you, an angry look on his face. "I thought you didn't like going out."

"I-I can go where I please!" You jut your chin out.

"Fucking bitch. You're just spying on me, aren't you?" Your ex spat. Din clenched his fist, not liking the way this bastard was speaking to you. He could easily break this man's arm and hardly break a sweat.

"I'm not!" You cried shrilly. "I didn't know you'd even be here."

"What are you doing with him?" Your ex turned to Mando with a sneer. "Tryin to make me jealous?"

"Obviously it worked." You glared. "Now go away."

"No hang on- you're gonna come with me and we're gonna talk."

"I think it's time for you to go." Din rested his hand on his holster, his voice impossibly low. You shivered in your seat.

"Whatever." The man gave up, backing up a little. "Good luck with this one, Mando. She's a prude."

You looked down in shame feeling angry tears sting your eyes. It was hard to believe you once loved this asshole. Din felt his temper flare in his chest. Your ex finally left, looking over his shoulder a few times to watch you and Din.

"I'm sorry." You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I'll leave you alone now."

"I don't mind." Din said, surprising himself. He hated seeing you so upset. He thought about going up to that bastard and putting a hole in his chest, but that wouldn't make you feel better. "Can I get you something?"

"I don't know." You looked up at the bar trying to read the menu overhead.

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?" Din joked, hoping to see you smile. It worked. You let out a small giggle into your hand that made Din's heart constrict strangely. He ordered you a Tatooine Sunset.

"You don't want one?"

"No. Thank you." Din hesitated before adding "I don't remove my helmet."

"Ever?" Your eyes widened.

"Not in front of people."

"Oh." You took a small sip. "It's really yummy. Thank you."

Din noticed the prick from earlier still watching you both. "Come over here, ad'ika." He tapped the seat next to him.

"Why?" You asked, looking up from your cup.

"Because that nurf herder is watching us."

"Oh." You frowned, moving to sit next to Mando.

"Lean into me."

"Like this?" You asked again, tilting your head onto his cold beskar paldron.

"Yes. Good." Din nodded, enjoying the look of anger that passed over that bastard's face. "Sit closer."

"I-I am." You blushed, moving until your legs were pressed against him. He wasn't super comfortable with all the metal.

"On my lap, ad'ika." Din patted his thigh. He was being bold but something about your instant trust in him made him want to hold you closer. Feel your soft body on his. You go bright red as you stand and then perch on his knee. His gloved hand covered your lower back.

"Look at him." Din instructed, smirking behind his helmet.

"Oh he's so mad." You giggled. "This is fun, mando."

"It is, ad'ika." Din couldn't' help but agree.

"Wh-what does adeeka mean?" Your tongue got caught on the syllables.

"It means 'little one'."

"I'm-i'm not a child." You frowned, ducking your head. A weak objection as you were sitting in his lap right now.

"It's not just for children." Din placed another arm around your legs, pulling them more securely onto his lap. He regretted that he was in full armor because he could not feel you but that was also probably a good thing or else he'd be hard. You smelled divine.

"Mando he's still staring." You whispered against his cowl which was surprisingly soft.

"Shall we make him even more uncomfortable?"

"Mhm." You nodded, kissing Mando on his cool beskar helmet, where his cheek would be. "How's that?"

"You can do better than that." Din encouraged, enjoying the little game.

"Oh yeah!" You grinned, feeling your competitive spirit rising. "How about this?" You lowered your head, leaning against his neck, kissing him through the cowl. You could feel his warm neck and strong pulse against your lilps. He swallowed hard, his hand tightening over your thigh.

"We should walk out now. Really make him jealous." Din suggested, mostly to stop you from giving him a full on erection.

"Oh yeah." You hopped off his lap, taking his large leather clad hand in yours. "Come on."

Once outside in the warm sun you laughed at your antics. You had never had so much fun. You used to fear your ex. He was mean and cruel. You felt safe now that you had Mando. You tried not to worry what would happen when Mando was gone. Din watched you hungrily, beaming up at him, your face lit up in the daylight. He subtly turned off his tracking view in his visor so he could just see you without any distractions on his screen.

"Thank you Mando."

"You're welcome." He let go of your hand making your face fall. "What's wrong?"

"I want to keep playing."

"What do you propose?" Din felt his cock twitch behind his flight suit.

"I think he would be really jealous if I had marks on my neck." You suggested boldly. Din shook his head in disbelief.

"You are not a prude, you know that? I'm sorry he said that to you."

"I was only a prude with him. He was ugly." You grimaced but recovered. "You're beautiful, Mando, and I want- I want you. Not just to make him jealous but I want you."

"Oh Ad'ika..." Din chuckled. "We can do both."

This led to Din taking you in the alleyway behind the cantina. First he knelt down between your legs and fingered you until you were dripping into his hand. He wanted to watch your little cunt squeeze and flutter. Your little mewls grew louder and louder until you came with a cry. Din loved how innocent you were. You didn't even know how to be quiet. You didn't hide your pleasure. He hoped your shitty ex was listening. Hearing your sounds that he never got to draw from you.

Next he stood lifting you up with ease onto his hips. You were already delirious from your first orgasm you shot up to the stars when he entered you. You tightened your legs around his waist, holding onto his broad shoulders. All thoughts of being seen or herd left your mind. You were overwhelmed, Mando pushing into every corner of your senses along with your pussy.

"Fuck..." Din grunted, feeling your hot walls suck him to the hilt. It had been so long he realized how sensitive he was. And you were so tight. He held your ass up, pulling it to grind into him with every stroke.

"Oh Mando!" Your head fell back against the wall. "This-it's so good."

"Mmm you feel amazing, ad'ika. So fucking perfect." Din watched your face slacken with the pleasure he was giving you, your plush lips teasing him. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to put his lips over every inch of you. Your eyes were drooping, staring right into his visor.

"Stay with me, little one. Look- look at us." He fucked harder, leaning back slightly despite the ache in his lower back, watching the point where your flesh met. Your little swollen clit was sitting right on top of his dick, smashing against his pelvis with every stroke.

"Oh-Maker-I'm gonna cum again." You cried, scrabbling against his shoulders for better leverage. You wanted to fuck him back. Din readjusted his grip allowing one hand to be free to circle your clit.

"Who's making you cum?"

"You! You, Mando!" You cried feeling your stomach go incredibly tight then spasming with your orgasm.

"You think anyone else could make you feel this?" Din sped up also nearing his own climax. His voice was rough and torn up, cracking and stressing the voicecoder.

"No-no one else!" You answered eagerly, wanting to please him. "I don't want anyone else."

"Good girl. Fuck- you want to be mine?" He felt his cock twitching. He was seconds away from cumming inside of you. This was the last chance to pull out.

"I want to-be yours- please." You nodded vigorously, looking up at him so he could see you meant it. You dug your heels into his lower back. His grunts became short and quick with each thrust then he came abruptly, crashing his forehead against yours. You gasped feeling the spot where you were joined grow incredibly wet.

"Stars..." Din hissed feeling his pleasure prickle down his spine into his cock. "You mean it, ad'ika?"

"Yes. Show me the stars, Mando."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @ajeff855 @what-iwish-you-knew @kirsteng42 @fan-of-encouragement @sleep-tight1 @pascalisfairyy @ceniington, @prettypedros 🧁, @pascal-rascal424 @axshadows @prideandpascal @frenchyjuju @pedrosmustache @blackmarketmummy @Idreamofboobear @pretty-brown-eyess @persephones-garden @javierpinme @mylittlesenaar @bellaorisa @elinedjarin @beskarboobs @beskar-candy @dindjarinneedsahug @anaaaispunk @headinthestarz

Din Taglist: @a-skov @pasckles

[sugar-petals]

♡ physical affection; levi

↳ NOTE. characterizing boyfriend levi, my passion project lmao! with some sexy moments included 👀

WORDS. ⇢ 7k

tags / warnings. ⚠️ smut, fluff, soft sub!levi x female reader, hurt/comfort hc, angst, shower sex, blowjobs + handjobs + boobjobs (yep. spoiling the captain), face-sitting, protected sex, soap kink, season 3-4 setting, no manga spoilers

Ready for a surprise? It’s not really about what kind of skinship he’s extremely selective about and what not. This is only something people would perceive about him at first glance. Instead, it comes down to how emotionally sheltered he feels. Because of his experiences, that predicates everything else. Which is why Levi’s sexuality is as complex as it is.

But also, in its sudden perfect expression once a person gives him a different perspective: That’s the time when he is touchier. The more in private, the better. The lights down low, with only a candle or two shining from another room. Broad daylight brings the harsh truths and the shaking ground. Nighttime is when Levi feels more intimate and open to caress, down his back and arms, the shoulders, the side of his neck. Done with extreme gentleness, and all of your deep respect.

If you offer him an environment of trust, Levi is open to almost anything and would even magically doze off in your arms for a little while. Breathing softly, resting for the first time in weeks, the brows becoming less tense the deeper he sleeps. You asking if you can stroke his hair (carefully, not messing it up or anything) is something he can’t say no to. The closet romantic in him will fulfill you any reasonable wish as soon as you’d ask anyway.

We know how receptive the captain is to a request, and how much there can be a soft spot for somebody in his heart. If you’re forward enough to just ask, Levi sets himself that goal and opens up. He is diligent with it just as you’d expect. That especially includes the things he says are „absolute horseshit nonsense“ and „disgusting, useless activities“ when reacting to newly formed couples kissing in the survey corps at the other end of the room. Is he a hypocrite and a hater? Actually— not at all.

Levi is a raised rather than born skeptic. Between courage and care, he is always gonna be torn. Both didn’t work in his favor at some point. But at the end of the day, he fears recklessness more than being cautious. Looking at these couples, he knows that they could lose each other the very next day. Or hell, the next hour. Not everybody has 200 titan kills. 

Not everybody is a physically indestructible Ackerman destined and designed to escape death and outlive others whether they want it or not. And showing themselves this vulnerable out in the open is even more dangerous considering all the political intrigues, chaos, attacks, and espionage going on.

When he’s scoffing at skinship in the survey corps, it’s not his intent to ruin the couples and their little happiness in the present moment (nothing he sees as more tragically precious), or say only he can have a relationship because he’s strong enough to make it survive. If anything, Levi is the prime example of how all his connections were doomed exactly because of his status pulling in all the danger. He very well and painfully knows.

What I mean is: He sees the brutality of consequences that can create more misery than if two people would just go about their business. Levi already dreads that the same might happen to him. But after all, the behavior of others is easier to rectify than his own undeniable feelings for you. Which he cannot control in any way, which is why he reacts to others instead. Looking at other people holding hands, he’s also afraid how dabbling in love is a distraction from threats that can even backfire on uninvolved others if someone is suddenly in harm’s way.

Levi does associate physical touch with something that takes an otherwise observing mind off when it shouldn’t be. To him, it creates something so valuable that can become an unintended burden through all kinds of circumstances, he’s seen it all, it’s terrible he had to. And the reason why he has such a torn relationship with it. You really have to know your stuff to build a resilient little bubble where Levi is not constantly hypervigilant and either past- or future-focused.

Which is pretty damn hardwired into him. It’s almost impossible to bring on that kind of atmosphere spontaneously. It has to be ritualized. His intelligence comes with the downside of overthinking and having problems with spontaneous romance, it’s good to direct his thought into something that’s always done in a specific, structured way. You sit down with tea, put the candles on, Levi finishes cleaning his weapons, makes everything combat-ready and usable in seconds, and you carefully lay down on his impeccably made bed together.

Which he never uses, Levi sleeps in chairs. Or on the ground, so he can feel any titan steps in the distance with his whole body, using the cleanest possible mat or towel as a mattress and nothing else. The bed he basically just makes to have it neat, and for you, and to have a spot to lay together. 

But yeah. He will never remove his harness. Not even when you’re sleeping with each other. He’s not once gonna risk having to put it on in a hurry. The only time you will be skin to skin with him is for not even five minutes under the shower. It’s when his cleanliness beats his anxiety around being always ready, which is why that’s a time to fully cherish.

And then, he really has no qualms about you wrapping your hands around his soap-covered torso in the shower anyway. It’s the only time his inner default germaphobe is not vehemently screaming inside his already heavy heart. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is about his demons only, confronted with the immense relief you give him. If the latter wins over his mind’s struggle, Levi might draw out the shower time sometimes.

The other voice that tells him ‚don’t make it end so soon’ is now finally convincing him. He will dial down the water stream so he can hear what’s going on outside better to compensate, to know if there’s any ruckus or approaching hazards. Levi has instructed a fast runner among the cadets to bang on the front door under any critical circumstances immediately in the first place.

Levi says he wants to save water, too. He won’t admit it, but he also turns the showerhead to a medium pressure to hear your calm, almost-quiet moans — the barracks have terribly thin walls — better when you’re sucking him off. Slowly, smoothly, not too much spit. Folded towel under your knees because Levi insists, and he is right. The showers in the survey corps have uncomfortable floor tiles. 

He makes sure you won’t get soap in your mouth as well, I don’t have to tell you that he is very circumspect. Levi isn’t usually feeling overly heated in moments like this, but he gets hard and releases fast. You swear his cum tastes like afternoon tea with milk but you won’t tell him that. And who doesn’t like tea and Levi’s homemade milk, no complaints alright.

What’s still a shame is that Levi, always being in such a constant hurry and alertness, puts too much stress on his body for him to become horny all the way. In fact, he often forgets it. He feels numb, and can’t fully take in the sensations. Levi has not been able to feel a lot of genuine pleasure in his life. 

A racing mind is an absolute sex killer, and his adrenaline spikes are so high in combat that most normal things don’t do anything for him. Which is why he brews his tea extra strong. But seriously: It’s a concerning thing. And it tells you to take your time. With his whole body, doing the things he loves the most. And what else could that be? It’s straightforward: Keepin’ it clean.

You make sure that Levi feels extra comfortable by thoroughly massaging his loins and thighs with a sponge during foreplay. Yes, you’re gently working him up. All in circles and light brushing motions. Lots of soap. Suave and bubbly, like silk on his skin. It’s handmade, with oat milk, lavender, and honey. For your honey. You regularly gift a new one to him to try out scents and have supply. You can guess how much Levi appreciates it, to the moon and back in fact. The present box is neatly stored on his office table where he can always see it.

Sending out its balmy fragrance throughout the day, making the room smell amazingly aromatic to him. His nose will never grow tired or accustomed to it. Levi puts the soapbox in a drawer within literal split seconds when someone who isn’t you enters the room. „Tsk, announce yourself when you knock…“ That could even be the newest recruit who doesn’t know anything at all about the place and people. But this is just a you and him thing.

Levi doesn’t want nosy questions from the squad even though nobody would probably even notice the soap laying there in its case, much less ask him about it or the fresh scent in the air because duh, it’s Levi’s office. But it feels absolutely personal for him — so he reacts sensitively about it. This man would probably protect your lavender soap with his blades if he had to. 

The captain is very secretive about your relationship in general. Who on earth would go as far as buy him a new scented bar of joy bi-weekly? At this point, he would crawl on hot coals, needles, lava, ice shards, desert sand, and a mile-long straight of legos (laid out by a maniacally laughing Zeke personally) for you.

Although you wouldn’t allow any of it. Nothing should ever hurt those kitty paws, I mean captain hands and captain feet. You’d put Zeke on blast on your own, luring him with a banana to confuse his senses and then, whack, homerun the monkey into the ocean with Levi’s bristle broom. Problem solved. Anyway.

 Levi wouldn’t hurt himself willingly that way either, the ice shards don’t stand a chance. He has sworn to protect his own life out of self-respect, to honor those passed by living on bravely toward the goal they worked for and being the one always coming home to you. You can rely on him.

So enough about gleaming hot coals and Zeke’s evil legos, back to the point — you already get what I mean. Levi might seem totally grumpy on the outside, but for sure is a devoted man, a caliber as always. He takes all of your presents to heart and is unbelieving as to why he’d be deserving of so much. You prove a point using the gifts as regularly as possible on his body. Where he can feel every bit of your fondness of him. And remember it with muscle memory. Oh shit, this soap does smell so good. As anything on him, who are we kidding.

Dousing Levi with all your attention is the best thing ever. He feels great relaxing with you, and his face softens up. He’s looking at you with a tiny smile in response to you whispering sweet things to him, all while you’re using the sponge on his legs, the chest, and ever-tense back that can definitely use some alleviation. „Thank you for cleaning me“ has got to be the best thing ever to hear from Levi Ackerman. It means the entire world to him. Captain, your mommy kink is showing. His arousal increasing is a natural side effect in no time.

Recently, you’ve been slipping his cock between your breasts as well, and it’s been slowing him down a lot after an eventful mission. While at the same time making him more in the moment, he really enjoys you gradually lathering him up like that. The feeling of skin on skin is amazing. It might be something that… often crosses his mind when he trains during the day, but he can blend it out for the important things. Until you do it all over again, and he ruminates about how much you turn him on until the sun rises.

You also never do a blowjob hands-free. Why would you, anyway? His body is amazingly buff and compact, you want to hold onto those gorgeous lil’ hips and his own hands that need a fair share of holding after carrying the world. You feel him twitching on your tongue when you run either hand over his ass and abs, making sure to trace across all his most erogenous spots there. What’s more: Levi feels really protected and soothed when he feels your palms on him under the streaming water, he can’t explain it.

That's why you like doing shower handjobs just as much. I don’t have to tell you that Levi really delights in them as well and his poker face regularly cracks a bit. His eyes fixate on you, you can tell the connection and involvement. He thinks your fingertips are heavenly, a welcome change to his rugged days. 

He loves how softly they tease and stimulate him with the smallest movements and subtle presses. Yes, Levi doesn’t like rough action, those are vulnerable moments. He has enough brutality elsewhere, violently jerking him off and insulting him would be entirely inappropriate and even scare him.

He’d probably brush your wrists off right away, it’d be so uncomfortable in the silence of the evening. A tender chain of kisses on the nose tip, chin, collar bone, and especially forehead gets him going a lot more. The more chaste and doting the kiss, the more he melts on the inside. 

His anxiety baseline goes down, and he feels like he can let you in. However you guide him and however you choose to indulge him with your lips, Levi is on board, quietly enjoying. Since it’s something that he’s still feeling so new to, leaving you the active role comes naturally.

Stroking him with a deep pace, carefully brushing your lips against his to give him goosebumps — Levi definitely grows into that. In those moments, he really feels taken care of, in safe hands, hands that will stay with him. He’s gonna be surprised just how good something like this feels many times. And be overwhelmed by pleasure to the point where it almost frightens him, he didn’t have that a lot until now.

The satisfaction of a spotless table simply does not compare. Just so you know: He will either be dead silent or mumble under his breath nonstop. That he is okay with you touching him below the belt and even take him in your mouth tells you how much Levi trusts you, how much he knows you love him, and how meticulously he’s already scrubbed and shaved himself beforehand. Yes, the sheer preparation. He puts a lot of work into his body. He couldn’t stand you becoming dirty.

That’s also why the shower is the place oral goes down. And even there, he uses like ten cleaning products to double rinse the stall and himself before and after. Mind you. He sees you eating healthy, brushing your teeth well. Your lips are very beautiful and a masterpiece of nature to him. So it’s not you who he thinks is dirty. Levi is pretty damn paranoid about his own skin and hygiene. If only he would think about himself the way he thinks of your body.

He feels like he has to earn it, be acceptable, and prepare himself endlessly to enjoy touch. Even then, he thinks he must be ugly and revolting. You have to respect him fussing about it rather than forcing him to cut down on his routines. You don’t criticize his perfectionism and see the motivation behind it. So instead, you reassure Levi your own way.

The more he sees you having fun and enjoying his body, the more accepted, confident, and clean he feels. Most people would like to see their partner play up the enthusiasm obviously (unless you have a ‚hiding his amazement’ emo boy kink, which is exactly why you like Levi don’t cha), but it’s particularly meaningful to Levi. Guess why he looks up to Armin’s mentality, and Hange is one of the few people who truly vibe with Levi.

She’s easily amused, dedicated, swooning, excited, and constantly eager. Levi does appreciate a bit of zeal in someone. If you’re a little ardent about touching him, it’ll give his esteem a boost he’s long needed, oh god. Nobody has the guts to praise this guy like that, even if he’s so extremely good-looking. Don’t let him off the hook there. Give him feedback, you’ll be surprised how much it resonates.

It’s already apparent to yourself how keen you are being touchy with him, hell, you’re so in love. Still, it’s a good idea to give him an idea how stoked you are. He doesn’t like it fast and brutally raw without a second thought, but passionate is a whole other debate. A simple „Levi, stay like this, let me do it“ or „Levi, you smell so good“ works wonders. Say what you think and his ease will set in. And I don’t have to tell you that you won’t look like sex is a chore anyway. With Levi, that’s an honor and a pleasure.

That he puts his faith in you and gives you his time is already a massive deal and goes against everything we know of him, what he’s used to, and how his avoidant personality works, being so ridden with losses. And it’s all because of how much you desire and approach him. That’s what it comes down to. 

Even if he’d suffer decades from yearning, he’d not go out of his way to kickstart something, never ever. He’d feel like he’d cause you so much trouble. You wanting him so badly and treating his body like a treasure on the other hand changes his mind.

It proves him wrong all the way. There is still time to enjoy love, the chance is now. Anything else would plague Levi with solitude and self-pity all over again. And the feeling of missing you around in his rooms. Two teacups on the table until he grows old and grey are his ideal of a good life, after all. He will open himself to your emotional and physical presence, realizing how touch-starved he is, and how much it improves his life to have someone to kiss and lay down next to at night.

The even breath at the back of his neck gives him a sense of finally someone sticking around with him side by side, even if he’s gone during the day. It feels good and right to be wanted by you, and nuzzling his face into your cotton dress. Your commitment gives him the little smiles and the silver lining he’s been searching for. He can’t label that feeling, but it’s joy of life and humankind, more than just a willingness for it. He would stay forever pained and bitter if he wouldn’t invite it in now, and you won’t waste that chance with being silent.

You’re attracted to everything about him, tell him, make him aware. The voice, the hair, the mannerisms, his height, his abilities, his mind, his care for others, the posture, how soft his cheeks are, the list is endless. Levi won’t miss how much he’s your type at some point. Which gives him a lot of ease, comfort. You show him that his inferiority complex was an entire smokescreen in his mind. 

He fucking deserves to be called handsome. And by the way — you can lust over him as much as you want when he’s made that time window for your couple stuff. It’s good if you make it as obvious as possible for him. Which is hard to hide anyway. You’ve been masturbating over Levi just sitting there sternly writing something. And he’s like why, and you’re like, it’s you! Look at you!

Levi does want you to touch his skin all over but it’s always sore. And he remains insecure on many days. So he only has particular comfortable spots in the first place. Since hardly anybody dares to touch him, and even if he pats someone’s shoulder nobody would ever be courageous enough to reciprocate, you would feel a bit like a lab scientist. Silently theorizing over him at first even if you really don’t have to. Other people say they’d rather run towards a titan than expose themselves to Levi’s moods, swords, and barking tone after trying to caress him in any way.

News flash, Levi has had such terrible moods since forever because there’s no affection coming to him from anywhere just because people decided he might not need it. And no, he won’t yell at you for touching. He finds it very sweet of you instead. Touching Levi always creates an occasion that will float around in his head for the entire day, that’s guaranteed. He sees how someone goes out of their way and cares for his well-being. He might not like it like standing in the middle of the whole corps, but anywhere else is fair game, at home anyway.

The pressure of dealing with threats he can manage to a degree, and he has lord how many coping strategies. The lack of love he cannot. Big difference that everybody seems to confuse. On top of how he has to be unrelenting in his position because battlefield and the Yeagers being a pain. Most people — except maybe Armin — see that as a closedness to touching altogether. 

The whole world seemingly can't intuit Levi’s craving of gentleness behind the arguably pretty convincing armor, but still. It seems like only a few souls ever think about the Levi that sits down on his bed in the evening completely depleted. You have to make it clear to yourself and him that it’s obviously a one-dimensional way of looking at Levi Ackerman and not good for him.

Which has covertly shaped how he interacts with others in return like a vicious spiral, which is why he blames solely himself for his depravation. And, how severe and untouchable the circumstances made his character. Yes, Levi despises himself for being inaccessible and unable to change it on top, added to how it happened to him over the years. 

Which he had pretty much zero influence on being basically at the gunpoint of life. It’s what you hate seeing the most and comfort him about with brewing tea. It definitely comes back tenfold, Levi won’t take it for granted when you brush out his hair and speak soothingly to him in the evening. „I don’t care, those are all reasons why you’re the apple of my eye“ seems to be what makes Levi’s heart a little mushy in particular.

He is very preoccupied with blame at the start of your relationship. Levi is torn apart by daily guilt and a constantly looming perception of failure to show an opening to his heart. He also crumbles under how the majority of people don’t take him seriously, overreact, or fear he snaps back into soldier mode — he doesn’t — when he does show affection. 

That you gaze behind his reputation and touch him without prejudice is the most important thing to him. You can ignore his mad and gloomy expression, Paradis has carved it into his face for half an eternity (the other half is for you and him when this is over). It doesn’t mean he’s angry on the inside about you. The causes for his madness are way elsewhere, knowing his early story it goes without saying. What made Levi callous and broken-hearted are things very opposite to you.

Those who only see and enjoy his fighting personality probably want him as their poster boy, people who are reflected enough to bother with the idea of a private, cuddling Levi are the only truly caring ones. Because private Levi needs that physical and emotional connection the most. Patting his cadets on their heads is only a little, albeit meaningful moment. The teacup is still half-empty regardless if you wanna think of it in those terms.

Because he can only do so much in terms of initiative — which already shocks people to the point of paralysis, which ruins the moment since he assumes it’s not appreciated then — and it’s only one-sided. Giving isn’t fully making him happy even if it’s his only option given how most people perceive him. 

The teacup only fills to the brim if Levi can let go for like half an hour getting some good ole kitty on your lap treatment. He silently lays there and enjoys your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He looks genuinely peaceful that way. His hand palms gently at your thigh and knee, and rests there all tranquil while he ruminates about his day and how lucky he is to have you.

The whole ‚theorzing rather than going for it‘ thing stems from you listening to those people a bit too much at the beginning. Instead of asking Levi directly about touch, and to be fair: Not a single human being has done that yet, you try to figure him out at a distance. Which is also a good thing though. 

You learn about many Levi habits others would overlook, misinterpret, or don’t think have any meaning. The more you learn about him, the more understanding you become, the more protective you will be, the less he will avoid intimacy. Because Levi really doesn’t want to shy away, but often his body has too much memory in it to be instantly receptive. So it rather starts with the mind, then.

The irony is. Levi rejecting bonds with others as not to have them weigh heavy on his mind when fighting will only make it worse. You make a statement to him that if he fully immerses himself in what you have, he can fight better and actually be without those godforsaken regrets he’s always talking about. That’s why when you’re having sex, you make him look in your eyes and kiss their lids, and wrap your legs around him very firmly because Levi has to know he’s deeply yours. 

Hugs, the same thing. You squeeze the last curse out of him every time and tell him to hold you tight as well. You do have to tell him twice. Just because Levi is the strongest man in history, doesn’t mean he embraces very roughly. In fact, Levi is not used to this at all. Even more irony. Paradis’ ever-swearing, most badass titan killer with the physical excellence of a hundred acrobats can’t execute the simple act of putting his arms around you in a normal, casual way.

The why is the harder thing to talk about. Last time he got proper, truly loving hugs was way over 20 years ago. From Kuchel, during a time where he was too young to remember these things long-term. Let that sink in. It confuses him when he does it and even more so when others do. Kissing Historia’s hand even as a light official gesture was already completely unusual for him and a first time. 

Levi doesn’t go beyond what he sees others doing in that regard. No extra miles, just imitating. Now think of him with something as big a deal as embracing his lover for minutes. He lets his arms just hang there and you gotta make him learn how to intertwine fingers or how to press his palms on your back. You’re the one holding him tight there, while Levi’s mind and stare go blank, he’s even more speechless and perplexed after confronting his uncle back then.

I’m not kidding. You have to ask Levi to be forthcoming with those things as well, it simply does not occur to him, and he’s unsure about everything there is to it. What a loveless world this guy is in. If it already frustrates you to see him struggle, imagine how deprived he must be. One of his inner blocks is, Levi has major jealousy of guys who are what he thinks a better hugging height. It’s obviously the other way around to anybody who’d be in love with Levi. 

Of course he has the best hugging height by far. What’s not to like? He’s ideal. But in his perspective, imagine all these people above him wrapping around each other in moments of enthusiasm, shoulder-level on shoulder-level, or only with slight differences. And when it comes to him, it feels awkward because they feel strange bending down only for him and Armin.

And that’s probably the issue. Because it’s much better not to bend and try and intertwine, but just have Levi bury his face into your winter coat without a hassle. You don’t have to be perfectly chest to chest to make it work. Besides… romantic hugs are always a bit different. And, you invite Levi to do exactly that with you. Since Levi’s pet peeve is politeness, you’ll also have to show him the difference between mere courtesy and love, he hasn’t fully learned it either. 

But just so you know. Levi is not a naive baby or raging bull in a china shop once he has given his love to someone. He observes well, adapts well. When it’s heartfelt, when it’s the right moment, it comes out almost by surprise, he’s feeling it and he will respond to you. With serenity and intent.

If there’s someone who can be unpretentious with physicality, that’s him. He just has to transfer that to romantic gestures and Levi will be the perfect lover after some time. He’ll end up like, „Eh, so what. We do this hugging thing!“ — Hilarious. Levi, knowing his battle tactics, does have a sort of innate courage to approach bodies: This time, it’s about someone he wants to give pleasure and gratitude to, though. Which will feel very different. 

And you’re a lady he’s all whipped for, that changes everything. He might sort of try to lean at the wall next to you, to murmur about you kissing him after eating cake so he’s full of crumbs „and now I have to dust it all off again, hmph“, but he is not prepared for another kiss and you tickling him pinned against the wall (he’s not ticklish, but you still love it, and Levi has a thing for you being all over him despite his stoic face).

So yeah, Levi will be super grumpy and do the „Oi oi!“ thing, but also turn around so you won’t see the blush. Man, is he embarrassed. He will try to waddle away awkwardly to do paperwork, but no chance if you tug him back by the sleeve, dust off his shirt from crumbs, and squeeze his cheeks into a perfect Levi snoot. I’m telling you, he has a nice pouty face. 

He might assume that you’re out of your mind because nobody has done that with him yet, but once you tell him that you just wanna look at him because every day might be the last, he sees the point of your antics. Merely saying you kiss him just because won’t make sense to the captain, it’s gotta have a purpose for the future.  

So, you will tell him to always remember what your soothing lips do on him before he draws the blade tomorrow, and that he has plenty of filthy crumbs to come home to. „I think that’s right by what we’ve seen today“ is what he’ll admit, and carries you off to the bed to get grinding because all that stuff made him kinda turned on. Or rather, you grind, Levi on the other hand gets flustered. He complains about you being a tease at length since he’s having a huge she-pinned-me-to-the-wall boner. 

You sit on his face to take it even further and as his favorite treat, end of discussion, your goddess is here mister. Geez, you’ll make him a hot mess. That dick won’t go soft anytime soon. You’ll talk to him about when his face is already ruined with cake crumbs, he has nothing to lose, gotta clean up anyway. The grumbling noise from below tells you that the argument is a good one. For good measure, you palm at his trousers to see his legs react and his voice suddenly hitch. Ah, it’s a wonderful day.

Levi knows a thing or two about holding his breath correctly, but what he likes the most is that he feels perfectly sandwiched between thigh Rose and thigh Maria. Yeah, he does consider them his personal comfort walls and hopes they’ll always be there. Congruently, Levi wraps his arms around them, in fact it’s locking rather than wrapping, and you’re like I see wow he’s serious. 

On goes his tongue lapping away between your labia pretty much incessantly. The arousal is so intense, you have to breathe in yourself. Oh shit, Levi is gonna try to finish you off, shots fired. Not fast, but insisting. He does not bother with you panting pretty damn hard whatsoever. He’s calling people like that, but Levi might be the real brat all along.

Fair enough, he currently doesn’t hear anything, which he also loves the idea of. All day, people everywhere are talking nonsense, and now he gets to enjoy perfect silence. His ears are small, they’re easy to cover with thighs. He just goes on and on and gets you past lord how many brinks with a heated buildup. 

There are a lot of evil things Mister Zeke has said and committed, but by far the most offending thing he has yet insinuated is that Levi is not popular with the ladies. Blasphemy, treason, outrage, éclat, trickery, criminal offense, international slander, the most grueling case of fake news since the horse left the building, and no, Jean is not meant. With those oral skills, any lady interested in him would get a permanently bleeding nose and something else permanently wet as you can personally attest to.

If Paradis would even remotely know what he can do in bed (and they would if Connie told them, he lives next door), even more people would run down his house than they already do to get a piece of him. Jesus Christ, the Ackerstamina. But I mean. People are probably suspecting it. 

How can you not move like a god in bed if you can bend yourself into any Pythagorean shape mid-air. Him being a fighter also gives him experience with managing energy when you have sex, I’m not kidding. Levi can even handle you thrusting right back on his tongue, and even your jokes about how he’s getting the cream to his tea now.

Levi is already kind of dripping in juice. His fingers are sweaty, this time it’s something on his face and hands he prefers though. He won’t wipe it off just yet. So you take on the task to put a condom on him — kind of expensive, mysteriously imported, gotta make every one count my friend — and have Levi take you from behind to soil the bedsheets completely at this point. 

Levi lets all the leaking happen, of course he notices, and yet he’s too focused on you gripping his cock hard all the way. So much for walls. Levi has to surrender to the thought of you squeezing him in any way you fancy at this point. That doesn’t just include the face, that much he learned. His cock is gonna fall off, you tighten up so much and make him squirm, Levi’s all blissed out.

He can’t handle your ass either. He just stares like the Founding Titan invented a brand new method to hypnotize the Ackermans or something. Although. Why’d you need to come up with something, though? People they love completely enthrall them already. 

If we know something by now, it's that every Ackerman gets completely fucked in the head out of the blue and sent to another dimension when they’re with the love of their life, no hypnotizing device needed. Levi is clasping his teeth for his dear life back there. People asking him if he’s gone mad he’d answer ‚maybe‘, but if you asked him if this made him lose it he would admit it.

Since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, you ask him to place them at your waist. „Properly, now slide in, Levi.“ — He takes his time for the first few thrusts, grunts, but gets the hang of it, in fact he’s a pro in the making. All that vertical maneuvering can turn into horizontal maneuvering very quickly. Levi feels so strange and so good at the same time, it’s overwhelming. How can something he thought would be so dirty be this amazing? 

And since this position allows him to penetrate you even deeper, Levi gets the full experience of being inside of you times two. The wet noise already turns him on, his body feels so warmed up, and he feels really shocked he’s doing this. Although his face won’t show, it’ll be concentrated as before. On the inside, Levi is losing it.

He can’t get enough of your body and how you tell him what to do, Levi will be driving it home in no time. You’re gonna have your jaw dropped by how lusty he can get yourself, but also love how he’s really breaking a sweat just because of your hard grip. Who would have thought. 14-meter class titans got nothing on you. Levi’s entire neck and chest is glazed over. You call him out on it, all you’re gonna get is a little ‚tch, that’s your fault, woman‘. I mean of course it is. He’s literally at your mercy. I told you he’s hilarious.

Little did you know that Levi will straight-up ignore his sweatiness and just continue, one heartbeat at a time, to really fill you out and make you feel good. Can you imagine. Levi dedicating like 20 minutes to make sweet love to you doggystyle. 

He has a good feeling for keeping you just on the verge of cumming. He even reaches around to press two fingers into your clit after five minutes of figuring out his angles. You didn’t expect this at all. It’s as if Levi can read your mind going „but his hands are gonna get really messy, why?“ — he just goes on rubbing and says, deadpan: „Miss, do I look like I care.“

Some dirty things in the world are just there to annoy him. They’re not existing to make his life easier. And toilet humor-related things: We know Levi’s stance on that. Wet pussy on the other hand: Surprise. He thinks of it very differently. Levi is pretty caught off guard by the fact that you loving and adoring him is the reason you’re leaking so much. 

It sinks in (um, literally) that you’re all drippy because you really want him inside. Not to mention that he constantly realizes just how attracted to him you are. Your desire for him, that’s Ackerman kryptonite. Levi doesn’t miss your eyes, nope. That motherfucker is a damn good face reader.

And— How warmed up your body feels in his hands, how you’re breathing. How you’re telling him exactly how to tilt to hit the good spots. How you’re sucking in air when he does just that. How you sound, grip the pillow, the sheets. Your goosebumps all over your legs. How your lips part. How you wait for every thrust. The way you tell him how good it is. Your pulse. Your own sweaty back, letting his hands on your waist slip and slide a little with the rhythm. 

How he’s struggling not to moan his soul out and chokes back. How you’re softly moving to glide off, he’s gonna lose his mind. How much you’re enjoying him and how cute you tell him he is. Whatever you’d ask of him, he’s so ready to fulfill it. You having the absolute hots for Levi is probably gonna preoccupy him for the whole night while you’re sleeping and he sits in the chair.

He’s been shooting grumpy cat level eye daggers with extra Ackerpoison at the corps couples for walking around showing any signs of this. Making all those lovey-dovey faces or going to the back of the barn together. Levi has chased them with his favored broom to whoop-diddly-doop those horndog soldiers back on track, swirling his weapon of choice around to send a sweeping cloud of dust after them.

Whereas now… he has to deal with the fact that he really loves all that horny stuff. Cognitive dissonance 101 is striking him out of nowhere. I mean he’d not fuck in the barn, that one is truly disgustingly shittily bastardly filthy or however he’d word it, but you get the gist. He caught feelings and caught pleasure — and that’s such a good thing.

His problem is, Levi wouldn’t know how to fawn right back at you. Except saying „good job“ like he’d praise a cadet, but he decides that’s not something to say during sex. He’s very right about that indeed. So instead: He will always reply to you accordingly and with Levi-typical honesty. 

If you say you love how he kisses your neck from behind, he will tell you he’s enjoying it as well because damn he loves that spot indeed (titans can tell you a story about it… Levi has such a neck fixation, that fucker). And: Letting actions speak the loudest with him. He’s a practical guy. Levi’s hands can to the most complicated reverse grips and all that crazy human Beyblade shit. Getting you off at his fingertips is gonna be his easiest exercise ever once he gets into it.

He doesn’t even do it to show off at this point. Levi is just that kind of a sex machine and eager to please, not to mention god, is he obedient and a giver in disguise. If Levi were offered the most luxurious, expensive tea available versus your breasts to suck on for a week given he’s free of titan duty… that cup is gonna turn cold. He loves the skinship and he loves giving you a fuckton of orgasms, as many as you like and as many he has time for.

Self-explanatory, this is something he will not feel one bit of regret about. Hours touching you is the farthest from wasting time to Levi. The less he holds back with his love, the more secure things become. He doesn’t feel the misery he thought he’d run into, nor does it feel like a reckless act that’s only something feeble. 

The new soap every other week on his table alone reminds him you’re here to stay and like his every quirk, and make this a private thing rather than something to parade around. You never lied saying „Levi, you’re mine.“ He does wrap his head around the fact that all of this is happening with time.

Levi finds your relationship meaningful because it gives him feelings and exactly that emotional harbor he never had before, and he gifts you the reverence of your lifetime since Levi doesn’t half-ass anything. You reassured and guided him so much, he looks up to that, it breaks down his prejudice against loving more and more. That’s how you’ll feel intimate in all kinds of ways for very intense hours he can spare to make the most out of it. 

From the light touch at his arm to making out until the candles burn down. And if you tell Levi to sell the deal and dedicate his heart, how can he not take that as a serious order. He has to be guarded to put his guard down, and that’s what you can offer him, and he will create something lasting out of it. Promise is promise to him, we all know.

RELATED:  sub!levi hc (tea shop au) | life after war (levi’s happy end)

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