#formally apologize for this

[fuedalreesespieces]

the martial arts of a kiss

or: if ranma and akane had kissed during the ice skating arc.

He wasn’t sure why he’d even asked. 

Akane stared at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place, and that was startling on its own. Usually he could identify her emotions with ease; she never made any effort to hide them. The only thing he recognized was embarrassment blooming in her cheeks, spreading an even, rosy blush over her fair skin. Her shoulders rose up like mountain slopes, and the blush grew down there, too, scattering over her collarbone and neck.  

If...if you don’t mind...then I don’t.  

A shallow wind blew through the dojo. He wished he hadn’t said anything – the sudden silence bulged between them like someone shoving an extra crayon in a too-filled box. They’d been bickering like usual earlier, but it had only taken a single moment of stupidity to dismantle the casual, if not heightened, mood. He supposed it was his fault for even bringing up kisses in the first place, for daring to goad Akane – Akane, who’d shouted back as though kissing were a feat she refused to fail at: go ahead and try it!  

She kneeled in front of him now, eyes pinned on her skirt. The air was stiffening, nearly uncomfortable, and he searched for something to say. He grappled for a moronic insult that would dissolve the ice between them, and though those were always in reach, this time he had nothing to say. He hated to feel speechless, but she did that to him - only sometimes, he insisted.  

Akane made the first move. Her voice was quiet. “I...I don’t mind.” She added, reaching up to tug on one of her side-bangs, only to remember they were gone. Her hand drifted delicately to the cusp of her knee, “...if you don’t mind.” 

The distance between them shrunk to nothing with those words. He could make out every detail on her face, the exact pattern of her blush and the petite scrunch of her mouth, like she’d eaten something sour. Her eyes were wide as pots, filled with a stew of emotions he wished he could pick out. “Close your eyes.” 

He blinked owlishly. “Me?”  

“Yes, you,” she huffed. “If you can’t do it, then I will!” 

“I can!” 

“I’ll be as old as my dad by the time you get the guts!” 

“Oh, you-” He grit his teeth and placed either hand on her cheeks, pulling her closer than ever before. It was a brazen, idiotic move. He was sure she’d conk him on the head for this display, but instead, her left hand came to gently drape over his. Her skin was the color of a tomato – he would have told her if his own face was much better. Their mutual touch seemed to steam, like red-hot coals pressed together under a grill.  

He’d hoped to see the kiss coming, at first. His previous (and only kiss) had felt like a swift, unexpected attack, and to close his eyes after that was to give up his semblance of control. But this was Akane – he trusted her. He would know her in the dark, and he would know her by her rugged palms skirting over his skin, and most importantly: he wanted this. He wanted to feel her kiss. Just admitting it in his head made him senseless, and part of him wanted to run, maybe lift some weights, anything to settle the erratic energy him from within, but Akane’s presence kept him in place. 

So he closed his eyes. Swathed in darkness, the touch of her lips against his felt like a thousand colors bursting under his eyelids. She was...warm, and her lips tasted like sweat from her training, and she was clumsy. He almost forgot, what with her confidence, that this could very well be her first kiss, because after their mouths met she seemed to forget where to place her hands. Ranma laughed against her lips.

Akane tilted her head and the kiss found its balance. His fingers trailed down her shoulders, tapping at her collarbone. Her hands played with the stray, unruly strands of his hair, and the touch of her made him ache. It was both the pain and exhilaration of a night run, the awe and excitement of watching firecrackers explode in front of you. He could combust any minute with how tentative she was being.  

She drew away from him, breathless. There was ire in her eyes, though her lips were hiding a questionable smile. “You’re terrible at this.” 

“Me?” he scowled, but there was no heat to it. “You’re the one who can’t kiss.” 

Furious, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and reeled him in. This kiss felt more like a crash, a loving punch on the mouth, and when she felt her breath run tight, he would pull her back in for a second, and a third. It didn’t calm him in the slightest. He remembered how as a child he would sometimes take lit matches and squeeze the fire dead with his fingers the way his father used to. The sensation of flame against his skin was momentary, a hiss of pain that tore through him, made his heart squeeze, then faded. This felt like that, except the cycle was never-ending. The heat of each kiss was exquisite, and he wanted the moment to go on forever, to feel the same excess of uncontrollable, delighted energy, like somehow all their fights were being channeled into one momentous, if bumbling, exchange.  

Ranma Saotome didn't bumble at anything. But this felt right, like the sort of kiss only they could share and no one else. Not a spectacle nor a sport.

“Ranma, Akane!” Kasumi’s light voice danced through the hall. Their lips might as well have ripped from each other. “Dinner’s ready!”  

Her shadow lingered outside the dojo screen. Akane came to her senses first and shouted, voice all throaty, “We’re coming!” 

“Y-yeah! Just practicing!” he added. Goddamn that stammer.

They watched as Kasumi’s shadow disappeared. Akane pinched him on the nose. “Hey!” 

“’Just practicing?’ What kind of excuse was that?” 

“What kind’a excuse? It ain't no excuse. You do need practice.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I’ll help ya out.” 

Her face turned red again. “You....” Her fingers clenched into a fist. “Big words from a guy who couldn’t even get the guts to kiss me first! You were shaking like a wet duck!” 

“What?” 

“But don’t worry, Ranma,” she assured, using her hands to lift his jaw close. In a poor imitation of his voice, she crooned, “I’ll help ya out.” 

He groaned, his face leaning on her shoulder, as Akane’s laughs echoed in the empty dojo.  

[chloesimaginationthings]

Pomni and Gummigoo reunite in TADC!

[rowarn]

everyone stop what you're doing i just had an idea of simon who likes to edge himself.....omg....

afab!reader, no prns, edging obvi, ruined orgasm, simon being selfish <3 not edited oof

when he's fucking you, hips pumping in a rhythm that basically melts your brain. he's got you pinned beneath him in a press, legs spread obscenely wide so your knees are against the bed. he's got you stuck there under his massive weight. you can't do anything but stare up at him with wide eyes as he fucks you.

he looks so good above you, muscles flexing with every movement and his dark eyes lidded with pleasure that he's getting from working his fat cock into your dripping little cunt.

"fuck, that's good," he groans, blunt nails biting into the tender skin under your thighs, "feels so fuckin' good 'round me, love."

you clench around him at the sound of his voice and the corner of his lips twitches up at the blatant, shameless reaction you have to him. he brings one hand up to his mouth, meeting your eyes in a heated stare as he licks the pad of his thumb, quickly bringing it down to press against your swollen clit -- twitchy and sensitive from neglect since he'd just settled for fucking you so far.

"you gettin' close?" he practically coos, making you whimper. the sound goes straight to his cock and god, he loves the sounds you make, "yeah, i know, pretty thing...i treat you real good, don't i?"

you're tightening up around him and he practically feels the breath punch out of his lungs. you're getting close; he's learned all your tells by now. the way your back arches and your mouth open as you whimper his name. you get wetter and wetter, gooey cunt making a nice little mess for him to fuck into. it makes lewd, squelching noises as he sinks balls deep with a slow roll of his hips.

"s-so close, simon!" you cry out, blindly reaching your hands down to press against his hips.

you always do that -- it's adorable. you actually think that'll stop him from sinking deep, deep inside. his cock knocks against your back well, the little pang of pain making your body twitch. usually, he bats your hands away just to be mean and watch you whine. you really think your trembling hands would be enough to stop the powerful movements of his hips.

he's close to his own end. his cock throbs the closer he gets with every deep thrust he gives you. both of you racing to your ends -- it would be so sweet to cum together, he thinks.

but he knows that's not going to happen.

it's his favorite thing to do. he just can't explain what it is he loves about it.

just when his orgasm starts to crest he pulls his cock free from the hot clutch of your cunt. he feels a little bad, he knows you had just fallen over the edge as he did -- leaving you nothing to cum around, little pussy clenching and cumming all empty and no pleasure from it. a sob tears free from your chest and the sound goes straight to his cock. you squirm under his weight as he watches his own cock twitch against your drooling cunt from his own denial, willing himself not to cum untouched at the sight of you cryin' for him. he closes his eyes and waits for his orgasm to wane before he looks at you again.

"simon..." you practically wail in despair, drawing his gaze up to your face. and fuck, you're so sweet for him.

your eyes are teary and he clicks his tongue, "sorry, love...that was mean of me, huh?"

you nod your head, pouting up at him. despite the ruined orgasm, you're still sensitive enough to twitch beneath him when he sinks his cock back into you with a swift grind of his hips.

"let me make it up to you, yeah?"

your sweet, trusting eyes makes his heart melt and he almost feels bad. almost.

because he knows for the rest of the night, he's going to be edging himself using your pretty little pussy until he finally decides he's ready to cum. and he's not going to care if you actually properly cum or not, because this is gonna be about him using you.

by the end of the night, his cocks so hard that it fucking hurts. he'd edged himself more times than he could count, the more he did the less time he got in between. he started simply dipping his length into you and pulling it right back out, eyes rolling at the sticky strings that connected the head to your clenching hole.

"please, simon...please, please, please..." you're breathlessly begging. he has no clue if you'd even properly cum the entire night, he had practically entered a trance and become a mindless beast thinking only with his cock. theres tears on your cheeks, dried and new and the sight is so lovely that he wants to take a picture and keep it on him at all times.

he finally takes mercy, however. your pretty little clit is so swollen and he just has to press his fingers against it. it's so sensitive that you almost immediately start cumming -- this time around his cock, he makes sure of it.

you pull him over the edge with you, letting him dump a nice, hot load into your pussy while you cum nice and hard around him.

when you sag into the bed and sniffle, cutely reaching out for a hug, he can't help but press a kiss against your forehead <3

[zhukzucraft]

congrats on the win!

[snartfulisms]

Scouts step towards tolerance

[theangelofbrahma]

[hyolks]

ed: yeah hohenheim was. weirdly into animatronics. my options were slim

[yueebby]

gojo satoru, who kisses you senselessly under the mistletoe (that he had put up) in your dark living room illuminated by the soft glow of the christmas tree while the two of you were supposed to be placing presents underneath the tree for megumi and tsumiki. of course, he is also wearing a santa costume that makes the entire situation quite comical. when you try to break the kiss to remind him of your present-placing mission, he only places a firm hand on your waist and kisses you even deeper. 

“satoru,” you place a hand on his chest and he grins widely.

“ah, ah. it’s santa.” he corrects you. “and santa wants his sugar tonight~”

the two of you fail to notice megumi’s equally surprised and horrified expression as he peeks his head in from the kitchen, the warm glass of milk in hand long forgotten.

[valgeristik]

This scene for Gale triggered for me in the funniest place possible

[bookgobloblin]

Mira has had enough

[averageludwig]

engiespy for the soul please

this req has been sitting in my inbox for a WHILE and i had no idea what to do with it but i realized this would be a perfect opportunity to draw spy without his stupid fcking mask :3 I hate that guy <3 not my thing BUT silly none the less

[empiireans]

happy 100 years of disney to the disney bros✨

[solcarow]

goddd orv . omniscient reader’s viewpoint . a story that bleeds the words i love you i love you i love you without ever using that phrase even once .. ….

[mechanical-moron]

I can't wait to see Elon's human form

[climbdraws]

YOU'RE THE WARRIORS X HAMILTON GUY???

I love these videos so much 😭

m-my legacy is being the warriors x hamilton guy......

[silkscream]

smut idea if you wanted options idk i live to serve (my liege) but stress fuck with peter bc uni is killing him and he’s on the streets every night and happy won’t get off his ass so when you crawl into his bed in just a t shirt and underwear he quite literally goes insane

18+ mdni!!!!!!!!!!!

god peter is so fucking pathetic. he barely has time to himself. barely has time to fucking breathe. yet, when he's alone -- when he knows that he'll at least be alone for the night -- he occupies his time by palming his cock at the thought of you. he thinks of your plump, pink mouth, how it circles his cock. how it sucks heart-shaped bruises on his neck and his broad chest.

and there's a night that he's free -- he means it loosely because he has to wake up the next morning to immediately volunteer. then, his schedule is packed with exam moderation, which he also volunteered for. he's busy as hell, and you'd gotten so used to it that you decided to occupy yourself without him. when you don't text back within five hours, he feels crushed.

but you don't leave him waiting for long. it's his night off, after all. you're excited to have him around in general. the two of you indulge in a marathon of your favorite tv show (you're mostly rewatching because peter had been too absent to watch the season with you, though you don't tell him this) and cooking dinner together. fulfilling his domestic fantasy, ravishing you in sweet kisses.

but peter also craves you in a way he can't say out loud. well, he can -- he's a big boy, he can tell his girlfriend that he wants to fuck her. but it's been a while, and the way you make your sleepytime tea and do your skincare routine discourages him from trying anything.

but then he watches you crawl into your bed with just a t-shirt -- his t-shirt -- and panties. he joins you, spooning you, though he's weary of the growing length that's probably prodding the back of your legs right now.

"want something, peter?" you tease.

he groans in frustration. he doesn't have the energy to play this game with you -- dancing around what he really wants. so he grasps you tightly, hands exploring your hips as he hovers over you. you're pliable underneath him, so soft and sweet.

peter wishes he had all the time in the world just so he could eat you out for hours. but he's been denying himself of you for weeks. he hasn't been able to be next to you in such a close capacity for weeks, either.

so he fucks you easily. there's no resistance -- you were wet by the time his bare cock was even prodding in between your folds. he still feels bad that he wasn't able to prep you (he really fucking wanted to eat you out), but you're still wet enough for him. the way you want him is enough.

peter has to pace himself, knowing that he might finish too quickly or hurt you in the process with his super strength. he drinks in your moans with his mouth, caressing your face with his calloused hands.

his hands have known blood and deep gashes. punches that would send his opponent across a parking lot. but now, his hands are gentle, just for you. he uses them to explore the softness of your body. he uses them to worship.

"love you, baby," he rasps weakly.

"love you, too," you coo. "cum inside me, please. wanna feel it."

and he does. he always does -- loves to listen to you and give you what you want. peter will cherish this moment until the next time he gets to be inside of you, even if the mission tomorrow is quick to finish. even if the mission tomorrow occupies him for days.

he'll come back crawling home to you. always.