#core-melting hand

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Cruel and Unusual Punishments (the PSA episode).

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[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[admirableadmiranda]

You know what? I think people forget that Wen Qing is realistically probably in her early to mid twenties at the start of the sunshot campaign.

Like I see a lot of people make her Wei Wuxian’s age or just one to two years older, but she’s a seasoned doctor running a supervisory camp and she calls Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian brats and bosses Wen Ning around and suddenly this all makes a lot more sense to me if she’s actually twenty five at the time and they’re seventeen.

It certainly gives her the time to build up the reputation and skill set that she has in canon without begging the question of how she’s had the time to train as a cultivator and a doctor and deal with Wen Ruohan on top of it.

[jcs-singular-slut-strand]

Wen Zhuliu for the character ask meme

(And Jiang Cheng if you want, but that’s the obvious one haha)

Wen Zhuliu my mysteriously evil bbg

Favourite thing about them: We know almost nothing about him, which means I can make up whatever bullshit I want and then tell my friend about it as if it's canon. However, we do know that his name used to be Zhao Zhuliu and that he joined the Wen Sect because of some sort of debt he owed them. His loyalty to Wen Chao shows that he really does honour that debt, meaning he must be honourable and he must value debts and promises at least to a certain extent which is quite interesting. Its really frustrating, I know what I want to say but I just can't articulate it.

Least favourite thing about them: He's like kinda evil and melted Jiang Cheng's core (and potentially the cores of his parents), which was #notcool

Favourite line: Bae is not a talker, so I'm gonna go with the "ARRRHHHHHH" sound he makes when lunging for Wei Wuxian right before Jiang Cheng bursts through the ceiling and kills him

brOTP: I actually have no idea. Wen Chao thinks they're besties but that doesn't count because Wen Zhuliu doesn't think/feel the same 💔

OTP: Wen Zhuliu x Yu Yixuan, it's all mapped out in my head

nOTP: I've seen Wen Zhuliu x Jiang Cheng stuff on ao3 which was... yeah really weird

Random headcanon: Used to write letters to Yu Ziyuan although he would never send them. They were filled with random tidbits of information; stuff about his day, what he had for dinner, his opinions on the current political climate of the Wen clan. Idk

Unpopular opinion: I haven't seen any opinions on him, so I can't really answer this one lol

Song I associate with them: For some unknown reason. I always picture Wen Zhuliu's face whenever I hear the song "Romeo" by Basement Jaxx. Idk why 😭

Favourite picture of them: I like this one, personally. Bae has no idea what's going down

[xiyao-feels]

(sees a bad JC take)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[yinyangbuns]

what are the chances that if wwx had thrown wen chao to the turtle instead of leaping off with him that wen zhuliu would attempt to save him, and they’d both get eaten??? is this too fanciful????? hmmmm

[tojipie]

asshole toji who says he’s too big for condoms <3

“i swear it’s still in here,” you huff, leaning halfway off the bed to rummage through your nightstand for the box of rubbers you bought on a whim last month. 

warm, thick hands rub up and down your naked torso, sliding up to play with your breasts from where you sit straddling his lap. you can barely see in front of you with how strong the need in your core burns.

a quick search through another drawer blesses you with your prize, the blue box just out of view underneath a ball of old reciepts.

“here, quick,” you sigh, handing him the item before clambering off the bed to shuck the rest of your clothes off. it had been a long time since you'd hooked up with someone, embarrassing as that was. sex had been the one and only thing on your mind from the moment you’d met this man at the bar. 

the near-stranger shakes his head fondly, turning the box of rubbers over a couple times like some sort of alien artifact.

“i only wear XLs, sugar,” he laughs, tossing back the pathetic box of rubbers. the exasperation in his voice feels like a punch to the chest. like he simply can’t believe you’d ever assume he would fit into anything less than the largest size. 

you disregard the thought, attention snapping back to toji slyly palming himself against your bedframe. scar stretched wide around smiling lips.

“you gonna come over here?”

you’re humiliated at how fast you scurry back into his lap.

˚ ✧ ─────

you almost don’t believe him until he unravels the latex onto his length, seeing it fall about 3 inches short of the base. 

okay.. wow. so he was too big.

toji lazily toys with himself atop your sheets. long, hard, and flushed red from base to tip. 

he’s nearly bursting out of the thin material, stretching it so tight and so thin that the milky latex almost looks like it’s melting into his skin.

the older man shucks the rubber off with a chuckle that says “i told you so.” he pulls you closer to him by the small of your back, fist reaching down to pump his newly freed length.

“i’ll pull out, you think i won’t?” he promises, voice barely a whisper. you don’t have to take in the smirk gracing the corner of his mouth to know he’s lying.

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Call that a Cave Story.

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[cntloup]

Fem!Reader Simon finds out about your obsession with his hands

"what are you doing, love?" he asks, his voice laced in an amused tone as you trace your fingers along the various bulging veins that run across his hand and travel all the way up his muscular arm.

you place a soft kiss on the back of his palm, then a second one on his wrist, moving higher, planting open-mouthed kisses on the scars adorning his skin, your lips lingering on each one, your warm breath fanning against his skin.

and he shivers at your touch, your tenderness towards him... even after all this time, feeling the love and adoration that immerses your tender heart bleed through your lips onto his skin, the love that burns so brightly, seething more and more every day.

and he cherishes every bit of it, absorbing all your love and warmth that you show him in your own unique way, collecting every single piece and keeping it safe deep within his heart which he now feels flutter and melt at your tender touch.

"they're beautiful, si... your hands, all of you... so beautiful..." you whisper over his skin, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. and he closes his eyes, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he savors the moment.

you kiss his shoulder and tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet, yet flaming kiss, your kiss setting his heart and soul on fire, the roaring flames engulfing him as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you impossibly closer.

your body goes limp and you nearly melt in his arms, his embrace strong and firm, yet so gentle and comforting, so warm, electrifying as if he's touching you for the very first time.

you softly moan into his mouth as your lips dance so smoothly against one another and you wrap your arms around his neck and swaddle his waist as you settle on his lap.

"touch me please, si." you whine breathily against his lips, craving his touch so fiercely. he smiles into the kiss and his hands begin to roam across your back, leaving a trail of flames in their wake.

his hands travel to your front, softly caressing your beautiful skin and moving higher to your breasts. he cups them in his large hands, rough and calloused skin massaging the soft flesh, making you mewl and whimper as he slightly squeezes your boobs.

his fingers flick your perky nipples, causing a surge of thrill and arousal to run through your core. "fuck! i love it when you touch me like this!" you murmur with a content dazed smile, lost in a blissful fog as his rough hands stroke your body so good it makes you almost drool with delight. he only smirks and goes on kissing and touching you just how you like it.

[rreids]

WANT • S. REID X READER

smut (mdni, you will be blocked); needy spencer; praise; fem!reader; oral (f receiving); possessive wording; ~1.1k words

Spencer was, for lack of better word, whipped.

Morgan would say pussy-whipped, but Spencer wasn’t fond of that. Just because he liked you, would stop what he’s doing at the drop of a hat for you… it was for more than your body.

Even if it was beautiful.

He could remember every curve, every scar, every wrinkle, envision it clearly in his mind's eye. 

God, he missed you.

“Hey, boy genius,” Morgan calls, and he snaps back to attention. “Staring at your file won’t get it done,”

“I know,” Spencer grumbles, going to make more coffee. He sends you a text — miss you. — when he does. He’s not one for that, preferring calls and time together, and knows you’ll piece it together.

It’s an excruciating hour and a half that it takes to get the paperwork done and put in and to drive back to your shared apartment.

He relaxes even as he puts his key into the lock, door opening to the smell of your body wash.

His eyes find you first, dressed in one of his shirts, hair still wet.

“Oh.”

He lets it click shut behind him, eyes trailing up and down you shamelessly.

“Missed me?” You tease, and he nods. You wrap him in a hug, clingy as ever. He melts into you.

With you wrapping him in your arms, he has no choice but to stumble to the couch and let you sit him down and straddle him, lightly tracing the smile lines that won’t fade as he looks at you.

“Pretty boy,” you coo, and he smiles more. “What’s going on in your head?”

He makes a show of pretending to think and grab the thought before meeting your eyes. “Thinking about how gorgeous you are,”

You beam at him, and he wills the image to sear itself into his memory.

You’re so warm and soft above him, just supple skin and delicious smells that make his head spin with need, nothing on but his shirt and a pair of flimsy panties. He can feel everything, and it drives him insane, fingers twitching against your thighs. 

“Spence,” you whisper. “Words, baby,”

“You’re so soft,” he exhales quickly and you cock a brow, letting him trail his fingers to your inner thigh, where he draws circles.

He wants to pull your panties to the side so badly. But he knows to wait.

“Yeah? I moisturized today.” You give him a smile, sultry and enticing, and then you tug your (his) shirt off, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Feel. Soft, right?”

He obeys, trailing his fingertips so lightly it raises goosebumps. His mind feels like it’s full of cotton. “Yeah–yeah, soft,” he clears his throat, wanting to nibble hickeys into the skin. With effort, he tears his eyes away and to your face. “And so gorgeous. Like always.”

You hum, tap a finger against his temple. He leans into your hand, desperate for the touch. “Thank you, baby,”

He stares at you in silence, forcing back thoughts of what he wants. 

“Wanna prove how much you missed me?”

“Please,” his tone is almost reverent, and he should be ashamed how easily he folds for you; how he wants to be on or in you, always; how he wants and wants and wants, and how it’s never enough; how he’s happiest with your smell and touch overwhelming his senses.

“Show me.”

Spencer slips to the floor on his knees, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. He crawls his hands up slowly, lets them hook in the waistband of your panties and tug. He thumbs the wet spot before dropping them to the ground, and he knows his eyes are blown out when he stares at your beautiful pussy, glistening with your need for him.

He exhales shakily and shuffles closer, presses a kiss to your thigh before licking a stripe up your core. He groans at the taste, shutting his eyes when you whimper at the sensation — the sight of your chest heaving, eyes glazed over already, head thrown back as far as you could while keeping your gaze trained on him… it was too much.

Spencer circles your clit with his tongue before kissing it, letting your thighs squeeze around him with an eager moan.

He shifts a little lower, nose bumping into your clit as he dips his tongue into you. You shudder, whimper his name like he’s helping you see heaven, and he sighs, sloppily licking into you.

He normally has good technique but he’s already so drunk off your taste, ears buzzing and face burning hot, red with desire and loss of air.

Spencer only whines when you tug on his hair and yank him back, reveling in the way it stings.

“Breathe, Spence,”

He nods, head swimming. He wants — god, he wants you spread open on his fingers and tongue, quivering under the stimulation, sweating and sobbing from how good it feels; he wants you to help him get off, wants you to fuck him until he can barely breathe and it aches to be touched; he wants you to mark him and he wants to be called yours.

“‘m yours,”

“Hm?” It comes off airy and whiny as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

He takes a bit to answer, pulling back breathlessly. “Tell me I’m yours,”

“You’re mine,” you tell him, tugging his hair and shoving him back into you. He whimpers. Loudly. “You’re my good boy, you’ll do what I say, yeah?”

He nods vigorously, getting sloppier and sloppier, more whimpers and vibrations into you than coordinated movement. 

“Spence. My love,” you gasp, arching up into him. “Make me cum,”

Spencer nips your clit, just enough for you to shriek and melt under him after tensing. 

“Mine, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he’s incoherent, babbling. “So sweet and pretty, always ready for me, such a sweet girl… tastes as good as you look, as you talk,” Spencer locks eyes with you finally, and he swears he could cum from how dazed you are alone.

You wail as he finally tips you over the edge, and Spencer can’t stop. Not when you taste so good, and all he can smell is your arousal coating his chin and your thighs, when you’re shaking around him and all he wants is for you to do it again.

It takes you yanking him away from you for his mind to clear a little from the fog, breathing heavily and eyes trained on your pussy until you guide him to look at you.

“Enough, baby,” you coo, rubbing your slick off his chin. “Give me a breather,”

He whines.

“Pussy-whipped,” you coo, and he can only nod. “Just give me a second and you can have me again,”

Spencer licks his lips. “Thank you.”

fuck it we ball (not proofread which.. expect that. when it comes to my works). i need him so bad. gif is my own :)

[slvttyplum]

choso wasn't dumb, he was far from it, he was quite smart, meaning he knew what he was doing when he would lay on top of you and rub over your sides while giving you soft kisses on the back of your neck. he didn't ask if he could fuck you, he was more sneaky with it, making sure you were melting under his touch before sliding your panties down.

his kisses make you twitch and calm down, it felt so good to have him on top of you, that it didn't make you mad, instead it made you drip even more to know that he was trying to be sneaky with his words and touch. by his seventh kiss, your panties were already slipped off and down to your ankle as his hands ran in between your thigh to feel on your dripping core to see how bad you wanted him.

rubbing over your ass as he gives you a peck on the cheek, his weight pushing down on you as he continues to kiss on your sweet skin, his hands rubbing over your core, slowly pushing a finger in. he knew that how he buttered you up before he was slamming his dick inside of you while you whimpered for him to stop.

of course that's exactly what he did, one minute he was prepping you with one finger, testing out to see how wet you were, curving it up to hit your sweet spot to see how you reacted, then the next he was pushing himself into you while pressing down on your lower stomach so you could feel everything he was giving to you. he didn't want a second to pass by without your body feeling pleasure or you grabbing on his shoulders pleading for him to slow down.

you hated how easily you gave in when his arms were wrapped around you, and he was giving you tiny kisses while his hands explored your body, even though you knew what he was doing, his touch was still comforting and made you fall deep, that's why you let him fuck you the way he did.

“you don't have to do anything, just let me touch you.” sliding a pillow under your stomach so you could be comfortable even though he knew you were going to be twisted up in ten minutes, yet he still wanted to bring you comfort with the way he did things.

“mm, by putting your dick inside of me?” resting your head down as he adjusted himself and slid himself, slipping inside of you. those were the last words that came out of your mouth that made sense.

thrusting himself inside of you and not giving himself, nor you time to breathe, your hands balling into fists when you feel him push deeper inside of you, your back arching and tears already forming in the corner of your eyes and mindlessly blabbering. his hand firm on your ass and the other rubbing up and down the spines, your pleasure spiking when you feel tingles running quickly down you.

he always wanted to keep going when it came to you, lay on top of you and have you take in all the pleasure he was putting onto you while still showing you the affection he knew that you loved, his warm hands running over you as he moans into your ear how much he loves the way you feel.

Even though he was sneaky he still delivered pleasure down on you to the point you were crying from it, he knew what you wanted deep down, and he was going to keep going even if you didn't ask. choso didn't just climb on top of you and pull his pants down like some barbarian, he made sure to give you love and comfort.

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

[introloves]

higuruma apologizes when his nose bumps into your clit while he’s going down on you.

assumes it had been a reaction of displeasure with how eager he had been, trying to be mindful of the placement of it while he salivated at the mere thought of swiping his tongue up your weeping hole.

he felt bad for her. poor cunt going unattended, knowing it was something that should have happened the first time you had touched each other- noisily leaning down and huffing hot air against you.

it’s desperate and he should be ashamed of the way his mouth practically drools for the chance to make you cum, tongue sliding noisily against your folds. fingers reaching to grab at your thighs to pin them down, gentle and stoic demeanor lost.

eyes that usually held a sort of sadness and discontent for nearly everything now looked, mean. strands of thick, black hair pressed against his forehead, a blur with the way he shifted his head up and down.

the ridge of his nose slipping up and down your swollen, throbbing clit- the singular bump of it sending tingles down the very core of your being. thigh jumping up in attempt to clamp down against his head- stopped meanly with a strong hand.

he looks up at you- focused gaze instead of the wild frenzy while he had been leaned down into your soppy cunt. see's with lidded eyes the way your knees try to jump off the bed with a singular press of his nose to your swollen, licked clean clit and it takes seconds for him to reign in the impending orgasm when he realizes you like it.

you love the way the curved line of his nose digs in, heated air of his own breath pairing well with how hot you are- shoulders shaking when he tilts his mouth in further, tries to press more of his tongue inside of you.

you fear hiromi is trying to swallow you whole.

"oh- god!" you plead to no one in particular. try to keep yourself down while he keeps you right there- no longer trying to tilt his head to the side, no longer apologizing for the fact that his nose is too hooked, too big. higuruma leans into it, swiping side to side- making sure to smear the remnants of your arousal across his nose.

he should have pulled away and asked if you were okay, should have backed off and verbally inquired about why you were shaking this bad. but if hiromi was wrong, he'd atone for it tenfold.

pride simmering deep in his chest, cock throbbing with the chance that you were reacting so fervently thanks to him or more specifically his nose.

words dying in his throat, any thought slowly melted away- following you to that orgasm he knew was coming so, so soon.

closing his eyes to let you ride him- hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer despite desperate movements.

you were okay, he was here. hands holding you with a revered delicacy despite the frantic bumping of your clit to his nose, or the way his tongue fucked in and out of you over and over.

heated coil finally snapping in mere moments after the way he realized why you shook so hard.

and hiromi curses for letting you slip, unable to hold onto you with how frantic you twitched- sitting up to watch you tip your head back into the bed, pretty mouth popped open to scream a broken chant of his name.

leaning to curl over you, forearm splayed against your head while he himself panted. face dripping, nose shiny- reflecting the utter tenderness he had treated, revered you in.

waiting for you to come back to him, trying to keep his own lowly groaning down- drinking it all in.

"hiromi." you finally cried- pichy and high. shaky fingers reaching for the front of his pressed, white shirt. wet at the collar.

"yeah, i'm here baby." he responded, voice low- bringing himself in to kiss your waiting mouth. sighing when you licked at the line of his lips. greedy little thing.

hypocritical for the singular thought when hunger struck deep in his core the second he rose up off you and saw the line of your slick printed off the line of his nose- gleaming in the low bedroom light.

decadence personified.

[yourtamaki]

roronoa "i could eat a peach for hours” zoro

zoro eats pussy slow. there’s no rush when he kisses his way down your chest and stomach until he’s settled between your thighs, legs thrown over his shoulders. he’s got you worked up and squirming from nothing but a few light touches and you can hear the sharp grin in his voice when he says, “settle down. just wanna get a look at you.”

you can’t call what he does looking though. you could drown in the intensity of zoro’s stare. you think you might be, with how you start to pant the longer it goes on. and the whole while, he doesn’t say a word, breathing in the scent of you and just watching your cunt drool and clench around nothing, all for him.

you’re throbbing by the time he finally gets his mouth on you. he greets your pussy with a broad swipe of his tongue, one long lap that ends with a flick against your clit that has you arching off the bed to chase his mouth. it’s nowhere near enough and he knows it. he throws a burly arm around you and pins your hips down with infuriating ease.

“c’mon baby, don’t fight me,” he says when you try in vain to wiggle out of his hold, “you know i’ll take care of you.”

he plants a chaste kiss on your clit and the sweetness behind the small act melts all the fight out of you, “yeah.”

“say it.”

“you’ll take care of me.”

“that’s right,” he leans in to circle his tongue around your entrance, barely dipping inside before he pulls back again, “always.”

the gravity in that one word, the weight and promise of it, pulls you together, zoro’s hand finding yours and lacing your fingers as he licks his way into you.

you shake and tremble and cry through each orgasm, and zoro is there squeezing your hand for each one and groaning into pussy like the pleasure is his own. it might be. it’s the only way you can explain why he devours you until you’re delirious and sweat-soaked, tugging on his short strands to ask for a reprieve.

your silent plea is granted but even as he’s pulling away, he gets in a few last open mouth kisses to your clit that make you shiver with how sensitive you are. zoro takes it as something else and is by your side between one breath and the next, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his broad chest.

“cold?” he asks.

“no,” you say, melting into him as he runs his knuckles down your spine and back up again. you go to reach between his legs but he catches your wrist before you can, “why not?"

“don't worry about it.”

"i wanna make you feel good.”

he brings your hand up to his lips and the gentle kiss he presses to the centre of your palm is paired with a warm puff of laughter and a half-lidded stare that burns you right down to your core, "you have no fucking idea what you do to me."

[tojipie]

toji x crybaby reader <3

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, smut under the cut !

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toji is a flawed man. 

short-tempered, married to his money, slow to show affection. but the one thing he does excel at is comforting you.

he knows you’re a sensitive girl, knows just how easy it is for you to get teary-eyed and red in the face over comments that otherwise seem like nothing to the untrained ear. 

you have a kind heart is all, too giving to a world that only knows how to take. he tells you that every time you break down in his arms, thick hands rubbing circles into the small of your back.

his father would have slapped him across the face for crying. called him soft, whiney like a girl. put him to work for the rest of the day to shape him into a man.

he wasn’t his father though, and you weren’t a zenin.

you were soft in the best way, tender-hearted and too trusting. a daisy among weeds, swaying idly in the too-strong wind. nothing like a zenin, nothing like him. 

he hadn’t the faintest clue what to do the first time he’d seen you get upset, standing there in the kitchen like a fool while you babbled on the phone with his bank.

it was a fraudulent charge, small, maybe only 10 dollars. probably dropped his card while paying for gas again, not the end of the world. the customer service rep assured you that much.

it was the principal, you sobbed. you’d lost his card and hadn’t even noticed. why wasn’t he upset with you?

he doesn’t know why he didn’t just tell you it was okay. that he didn’t have it in him to ever be cross with you, be it a ten-dollar charge or a thousand-dollar charge. 

instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your body flush with his to press soft kisses to the crown of your head.

you were warm there, warm everywhere really. the thrum of your blood heating your skin from the inside out. toji liked that about you, how you offset the perpetual cold of his much larger hands. 

physical touch was something he knew well. toji wasn’t—still isn’t good with words, opting to stay silent and just hold you while you sniffled into the receiver. he got the message across, he always does.

his methods are unorthodox for that very reason. he doesn’t comfort you with his tone, he does it with his body. whether it be thick arms squeezing you until you get your breathing under control, large hands tracing shapes into your tummy until you stop spluttering, or toned legs splaying wide to let you crawl into his lap, resting on him until your bodies reach the same temperature.

toji fucks you on your good days, likes to tease you, get you squirming. the key difference is that he makes sweet love to you on your bad ones. holding you flush to his chest while he rocks into you under the safety of your shared blankets.

you feel like a furnace under him every time, heat radiating off your body and into the deeper parts of his soul. 

he gets mouthy once the feeling of you wrapped around him flicks that little switch in his brain. turning off the mental barrier between him and his inability to use his words. 

“sweet girl,” is what he calls you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“gotta stay close to me, gotta keep you safe, huh?”

and keep you safe he does, tucking your face into the curve of his neck so you don’t have to look anywhere but him. letting you moan, and pant, and sigh into his skin while he rocks against that special spot situated deep in your core.

he goes harder when you ask him to. not faster, but harder—he knows the difference, letting the resistance in his hips subside so he can sink to the hilt over and over. 

the juxtaposition makes his head spin. how do you manage to sound so sweet while asking for something like that? able to melt his heart even on the brink of orgasm.

you kiss him when he fills you up, letting him sink on top of you with a huff and a shy laugh. he listens as you open up about the good parts of your day, his soft hums of agreement spurring you on.

toji wishes he was taught to articulate himself better. he’s trying, he really is. though the “i love you” he says into your skin seems like his best shot at a start.