#i really tried to trim the fat but there was only so much i could take

[thegainingdesk]

Borrowed

“Fuck!” I barked as hot coffee spilled down my front. This always seemed to happen when I wore a nice shirt, always when I had to meet clients, always on a fucking Tuesday. God I hated Tuesdays.

Fifteen minutes of frantic dabbing with wet paper towels later I sat slumped in my chair. Not only had I not managed to shift the coffee stain, but now I'd also made my shirt wet enough that my thick body hair was plainly visible through it.

“Maybe someone has a jumper?” Owen asked.

Sandra shook her head sadly. “We asked around,” she said. “The weather's been so lovely, not sure the last time anyone brought a jumper in. There's a couple in lost and found but…” She trailed off and lifted up two jumpers - one lurid pink with three kittens covered in glitter, the other a red Christmas jumper implying Santa was about to do unspeakable things to a reindeer.

“Not really the thing for a client meeting,” Owen said, making a small sucking noise through his teeth.

“Someone else is going to have to do it,” I said. “It's in ten minutes, there's no way my shirt will be dry in time.”

“I always keep a spare shirt or two in the stationery cupboard,” Graham said, appearing round the corner eating a donut. “It'll be a bit big for you though!” he added, slapping the firm ball gut that took up his torso.

I bit my lip. On one hand, I'd look absolutely ridiculous, my lanky frame swallowed up by a shirt intended for a man surely a hundred pounds or more heavier than me. On the other hand, I'd look more presentable than I currently did. And besides, it would be kind of hot to have real, tangible evidence of just how much bigger Graham was than me - okay, so forty-five year old obese dads aren't exactly everyone's fantasies, I can admit that, but for me, Graham was my dream man.

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

A minute later I was stood in our stationery cupboard holding up a piece of fabric I could use as a light blanket. The tag said 2XL and I thought about how Stewart filled his shirts - gut straining gently at the seams, the hem riding up by the end of most days to reveal a wedge of hairy fat. There were some trousers as well, neatly folded beneath the shirt. I held the pair up to my waist and boggled at how much wider they were. I imagined filling up clothes so big and felt myself grow hard.

I peeled off my own wet, stained, size small shirt and hung it on the door handle to dry a little. I slipped my arms in Graham's shirt and buttoned up the front. The shirt swallowed me. The hem hung down below my crotch, the shoulder seam lined up somewhere along my upper arm, so that the cuff hung down past my thumb, the whole thing billowed around me. I pinched the fabric and held it out in front of me - it seemed like there was a foot of space left in every direction.

My cock throbbed. I checked the door was locked, then checked the time. I had a few minutes, and Sandra was already on delaying duty. I bunched the shirt up, unbuttoned my fly and pulled my aching cock out. I stroked rapidly, keen to finish in a timely fashion. I tried to imagine myself filling the shirt. How much bigger would I be? Would I be shaped like Graham, with a firm gut, or would I be softer, flabbier, wider? My left hand raked over my trim stomach and my breath hitched as I moved it away, out to where I'd held the shirt just a moment ago. I bit my lip to stop myself yelling out as I shot cum across the floor of the cupboard, and as it dribbled over my fist.

Hit by post-wank clarity, I immediately felt like an idiot. How did I think I was going to clean this up? I frantically grabbed my wet shirt and did my best to wipe up the thick cum on my right hand and cock, struggling a bit to get it out of my pubes and stopping it getting on my trousers or Graham’s shirt. Then I knelt down and wiped up the mess on the floor.

A knock on the door. “Just coming now!” I choked.

“The clients are here,” came Graham's voice through the door. “That shirt alright?”

I looked down at myself. I looked fucking ridiculous, like a child wearing his dad's suit for a play. “Yeah Graham, cheers. It's perfect.”

I wadded up my coffee and cum covered shirt and threw it into a corner that I hoped no-one would look in over the day. I tucked the excess fabric into the waistband and rolled up the sleeves, hoping the overall effect was “loose and casual” rather than “four sizes too big”.

-

I panted softly as I squelched my way into the office. When I woke up, the weather was blissful - bright sunshine, a little warm maybe, but with a light breeze to make it bearable, the sky clear apart from a couple of distant picturesque fluffy clouds completing the picture. Of course, once I was halfway to work, the heavens abruptly opened, necessitating me to run from my tube stop through torrential rain to my office.

My body wasn't exactly built for running these days. That day with Graham's shirt had flicked a switch somewhere deep in my brain, and since then my appetite and waistline had expanded in rapid conjunction. Now my soaking shirt clung to a round, soft gut, plump tits and wide love handles, and my damp trousers made my wide, plush thighs and fat pad uncomfortable.

I was met with noises of sympathy from my much more weather-prepared co-workers as I dripped across the floor, but couldn't fail to notice the whispers and pointing as soon as I passed. My weight gain wasn't exactly fresh office gossip at this point, but I'm sure it being highlighted by clinging wet clothes didn't exactly help matters. I sighed as I sat at my desk, the cold clothes against my skin making me shiver.

A shadow fell over me and I saw Graham stood meekly above me. “I've got some spare clothes,” he said quietly, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “I'm not sure if you, you know, if they'll fit or anything, but you're welcome to them if you like.”

I saw his eyes flick to my swollen gut and my heart jumped as I realised that Graham - Graham! The office fat guy! - wasn't sure who was bigger out of the two of us. I shuffled my legs slightly to adjust my hardening cock, but knew that my overhang would largely keep my arousal hidden.

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks Graham, that would be great,” I thanked him. “I've actually borrowed your shirt before, you know,” I told him. “You wanting to keep it a secret all of a sudden?”

Graham grew more flustered. “It's not that,” he said. “I'm happy for people to borrow it whenever, you know. I figure it's best if there's a spare shirt around and at least if it fits the fattest- I mean, that is, if it fits me it… well.” He cleared his throat and looked around again. He lowered his voice further “I wasn't sure if you'd be happy to, you know, have people know you were borrowing my clothes. You know since…” He gestured feebly towards me and I felt my heart pump harder.

“That's fine Graham,” I said. “Thank you again.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone,” he said, not moving yet. “I get it, you know, the uh,” he shifted his feet nervously, “weight thing. I was probably about your age when I started to put on a bit, back when Vanessa had the twins and well… anyway. I just wanted to say that I know how it feels, and if you ever wanted to talk to someone who understands…”

“Thanks Graham,” I said. “For the shirt and the offer.” I stood up so that we were almost belly to belly. “I best go get changed.” Graham grinned and gave a small wave as he walked away.

I looked at the shirt on the hanger in front of me. Was I really the same size as Graham now? I'd certainly fantasized about the idea often enough, and the shirt in front of me looked… well, it looked normal. I thought back to that day a couple of years before when I was shocked at the size of Graham's clothes; now they looked the exact same as all the others I had hanging in my wardrobe at home.

I pulled off my damp clothes and put on the shirt. It fit perfectly - the collar wasn't too tight, the shoulder seams hit the right place, it tucked perfectly into my waistline. A little snug, perhaps, around my gut, but then most clothes did these days. The buttons were definitely straining more than they did around Graham's belly, weren't they? He'd have surely bought the next size up by now if this was how his shirts fit everyday.

I sucked in as I bent down to pick up the trousers, keen not to stress the buttons anymore and stood back up with a loud grunt. Advanced acrobatics like “bending over” and “standing back up” were getting a little strenuous these days. I looked in the waistband and froze. It was a 42 inch waist. I'd gotten rid of my last pair of 42s months ago, and in the meantime my 44s were starting to pinch painfully when I was particularly bloated. I looked back at my soaked trousers and imagined drying in them. These would have to do - maybe just for the morning until my clothes dried.

I had to suck in as I struggled to button the trousers, and immediately felt the familiar vice grip of too small clothes as I let my gut hang out fully. The fabric confined my legs and hips, making my torso explode out of the top like bread dough, and I could imagine the angry red marks I'd see once I took them off. The legs felt like skinny-fit jeans, all the way down to my calves. Surely Graham couldn't wear these? I didn't think I'd be able to sit down all day.

“Those forty-twos aren't too big, are they?” Graham asked when I gingerly came out the stationery cupboard, feeling like an overstuffed sausage casing come to life. “I only really use them if I'm feeling a bit bloated,” he explained.

I shook my head and gave a strained smile. “They'll stay up with a belt,” I said. I saw Graham's eyes flick down to the full-to-bursting fabric with no belt in sight.

He gave a thin smile. “Well then,” he said. “Glad I could help. You know where they are if you ever need them again.”

I was back in my own trousers by lunch, after promising Graham to buy him a new pair since I'd ripped the seat on his.

-

I licked the sugar and jam off my fingers as I walked up to Graham.

“Hey man,” I said, before stifling a belch. “I don't suppose I could borrow that spare shirt you keep?” I gestured down at my shirt, where jam from my donuts sat next to grease from that morning's sausage roll on the shelf of my gut. “Breakfast got a bit messy this morning.”

Graham’s eyes widened a touch and I could see him perform a series of mental calculations. “I've lost a little weight since the last time you borrowed a shirt,” he said after a moment. “I'm down to just plain old extra large these days.”

“It looked like the same shirt when I got some staples the other day,” I told him. “Maybe you just forgot to swap it out.”

He smiled weakly. “Ah, yeah, that's right,” he conceded. “Must not have brought in one of my new ones yet.” His eyes flicked down to the farthest extent of my gut, where its swell strained the buttons of my 4XL. “So you umm, I mean that is, if you think, but well.” He desperately reached for a polite way to tell me I was too fat for even the clothes that were too big for him. He lowered his voice. “Weren't you saying a while ago you shop at one of those plus-size shops these days? I never really went to those, even when I was, well, before I lost some weight.”

I grinned and shrugged. “Worth giving it a go, right buddy?” I slapped the top of my belly. “Us big guys are used to squeezing into places.”

He grimaced at the suggestion our sizes were comparable and gestured towards the cupboard where he kept his spare shirts. “Help yourself,” he mumbled.

I unbuttoned my own shirt and dropped it in a heap on the floor. I picked up Graham's from its hanger and held it out in front of me - did I really used to fit in clothes this small? I grunted as I bent down to pick up the trousers and held that out in front of my waist too - god they were narrow. My own hips were a good half foot wider, even while holding them like this. I'd have liked to have tried them on too, but they were a non-starter, I knew. A shame that I couldn't go all the way with my little game, but oh well.

I put the shirt on, even the shoulders a little too narrow to slip my arms into comfortably, and slowly started buttoning, my fat fingers slow and clumsy. The neck was a complete no go, fat oozing over the collar when I attempted. The buttons over my tits were snug, but broadly doable. The top of my gut - starting to become a real problem. At the very diameter of my soft ball gut the two sides were inches apart. Determined to make a show of myself in front of the office before I left in a few weeks, I sucked in as far as I could and tugged on the shirt hard. After a few moments of struggling, huffing and puffing all the buttons were precariously lodged into their respective holes.

I let my gut out slowly, so as not to tear any seams or send the buttons scattering. Even at the largest I dare let my gut hang out, I was still sucking in a little.

Every inch of fabric was filled with me, inflated to its limit. I could almost hear the cloth creaking. The buttons had huge ovals of hairy, dimpled skin showing between them. The bottom of the shirt hung around my heavy love handles like bread loaves and several inches of my gut hung clearly out the bottom. The waistband of my trousers were hidden beneath cascading fat, and my soft arse hung out at the top.

I grinned as I walked out the cupboard. “Cheers for the shirt Graham,” I called across the office. Disgusted and embarrassed faces turned towards me as they took in the sight of my morbidly obese body forced and squeezed into clothes meant for the merely clinically obese. I began walking towards Graham as I spoke, giving everyone a good view. “I don't think it's really going to work,” I said as I gestured towards my body. “I swear we used to be the same size?” I shrugged. “Ah well, I can cope with a couple of stains for today.”

Graham blushed bright red as I approached him, the only person forced to engage with the spectacle unfolding in front of everyone. “Oh well,” he said, staring resolutely at his computer screen.

A flash of a thought began to nucleate into an idea. Did I dare? I think I did. I made a show of wrinkling my nose a little and then- “ACHOO” - a not quite believable fake sneeze as I let my gut expand to its fullest extent. Two buttons pinged off the and I heard a small rip to my side.

“Oh god!” I feigned humiliation. “I'm so sorry Graham, your shirt! I'll buy you a new one!”

Graham paled. “That's fine,” he insisted. “Didn't fit anymore anyway, destined for the charity shop.”

“No, no,” I replied. I stroked my hand around my gut, feeling the contrast between strained fabric and exposed skin at the fresh tear in the shirt's side. “It's my fault and this spare shirt’s helped me out no end of times.” I pretended to ponder for a moment. “I swear it used to fit…”

My cock was rock hard beneath my gut as I returned to the stationery cupboard to put my own shirt on.

[sjw-publishings]

Lit Gud Streamin

With much encouragement from @dumb-and-jocked

>First Time Streamin’ bro?

The house husband blushed at the first comment coming to respond to him.

Carson Green was anxious…he’d heard of streaming but never tried it until some pestering from his Gaymer group as of late.

The stay at home husband wanted to help with the finances, hence why he even considered it in the first place. Sure it was nice being a homemaker, and definitely had a flair in cooking, but he wanted to do something different.

“Y…Yeah, it’s my first time.”

>LOL K

He was relatively unsure of this, but he had known and spoken to several of the guys a week ago, and though he could have sworn they talked about a different topic entirely, he recalled about many of them bragging about ‘raking in the dough’ for gaming.

True enough, many of them are not only being paid handsomely in royalties for streaming, but they have a surprisingly large fanbase!

Admittedly, he was sort of shocked…and sort of jealousy that many of them are quite popular online, almost like they reached stardom within a week or less.

But regardless, his group also promised that they will help out with ‘assimilating’ him into the platform and moderate his stream. So surely he would reach a certain level of success with their guidance.

Though he’s still unsure how exactly will do they so.

“W…What games will we be playing?”

>Dis the game dude

>Ur in it, brought in da Boiz to watch the stream.

With that, the number count rose exponentially, from single digits, to doubles.

The house husband blushed, twiddling his thumbs at being watched by wide audience. Is it like a reality show game? Or is it something different entirely?

Granted, there weren’t any instructions or briefings given about it. Maybe it is a more on the spot, spontaneous kind of thing?

“D…Do I need to do anything in particular?”

>Just be yourself , LOL

>You gotta impress us Noob.

He…kind of doesn’t like being called a noob, but he is new to streaming after all. So he ought to listen to them, no matter how they are like.

>Dude, ur Tagline?

Tagline…?

Oh yeah! All the cool streamers he watched had one.

Wait? Since when did he watch…well he is a gamer after all, so it’s only natural that he DID watch streams, at least some of em by proxy. He is rather connected to the other guys.

“Ummm…ok LOL, what kind of tagline. Do you all have any suggestions, dudes?”

>Just Lit Gud man.

>Yeah RAT

He thought maybe it’s tough love or something…though it really feels extremely rude. Almost draining even, like yeah it was exhausting trying to keep up with his group’s gaming shenanigans, but even in their streamin’ advice?

C’mon Man!

Plus he’s just got married not a while ago! They could’ve at least be NICE to him since he’s now tied down! Like don’t get me wrong, he loves his husbro, but when all is said and done, he does miss the glory days of being with the rest of the guys.

“Look, I-D-K if Lit Gud Noobs is such a nice tagline?”

Desperate for a win here. Yeah, he may be getting quite aggro. But it’s justified! Bro.

“And who you callin’ Rat, RATZ!”

His mouth slurred at that remark, a very sleazy…immature slur as he quickly covered his mouth in that regard.

Though admittedly, he kinda liked that.

After all, if he was the rat, then these noobs are his goons. And while he usually isn’t the dominant one in his relationships, admittedly he kinda liked roleplaying as one of the typical bros, even if he wasn’t THAT asian compared to them.

>RAT BOD

>You lift Bro?

“My body…its not that well off-“

>Get lit or get Shyt on

He’s gotta get LIT.

Watching as his weight sizzle away down, melting away the bubbling tummy fat into a faint trail of a six pack, straining loosely on the shirt being his college grad pectorals.

Gotta show off after all. Specially during the bachelor’s party!

His diet consisted of pizza, soda and chips. And so ducking what? Body trim as DUCK, that’s how he lived and how his rats loved it. Some people said it was his GENE-tics or some shit that he had this bod, but you know what he says to em’?

Get lit or get Shyt on!

But even so, da shyt? Why did these bastards gotta treat him like that? Weren’t they all buds or somethin’?

“You RATZ are always so rude.”

>We rude? KAPPA

>Haha Noob!

With every interaction and vocabulary pollution, hunching lazily towards the screen, eyes entranced by the masses of comments.

LIGHTING and EMPHASIZIN’ random words, like an obnoxious mixture tainting his patience. Persistent name calling and being on the receiving end of the relationship kinda pisses him off.

>LOL K, How’s the stream?

But admittedly, a growing part of him is really getting pumped, while irritated, a small part of him liked broadcasting to these gamers.

If only they had some MAN-NERS, sheesh!

“How the streamin’ goin? Dude IDK, just a Jerkin’ stream today, nothin but insults.”

> Git Gud

> Just Git Gud

> Noob

Chat, filled with your run of the mill, cloned responses. Your typical mocks and insults, passive threading onto aggressive, a fine balance of being slightly very aggro but chill, producing RUDE DUCKIN’ INSULTS.

Each one after another, a shytposting blend that makes the stupid obnoxiousness rise higher and higher. Calves toning out from jumping upwards in sports as his body shrunk downward, making sure he sees eye to eye with dem BOIZ.

One liner aggressiveness alongside swarms of memes and complete nonsense. Idiotic behaviour, fitting a ‘RatChat’. Blending in with the other dudes, speakin’ their language, participating campus exercises and roughing around with the other bros!

Like a game, course, they are gamers after all. They know the COMBO, dissecting their streamer bud like it’s nothin’! Insults kicking right from the beginning!

He wanted to beat them at their own game!

Be hetter-BETTER! Calson Greo wanted to be a PRO.

“Alright RATZ, What’ll make me less of a noob and g-”

>Git Gud Noob

“GIT GUD?”

His voice slurred, eyebrows raised as he slumped back in his gaming chair. Like a simple command burning into his skull.

He just gotta GIT GUD! No instructions needed, except you gotta be IN DA LOOP. At TOP! As his buttocks clenched at the refusal of being BOT! Cheeks meant for exercise and gamin’.

He had to GIT GUD! And that’s being on top of his game always!

>You gotta be LIT Fam

“LIT?”

A delicious fuming rage erupted from his screen, as a multitude of laughing frogs and emojis filled his entire chat.

Igniting a fire within, his skin tanning till its just RIGHT. Made for a BOI who spends time gamin’ both online and in sports. Just like every other of his classmates back on campus.

>Stop being such a QUEER

“QUEER? Da SHYT?”

SHYT, these men tryin’ to get under his skin. Really making him all pent and rock solid. NO HOMO!

Wait WUT?

DUDE! LIEK…man he’s really even sounding immature in his thoughts? Wasn’t he some sort of QUEER? DA FK? He was g…a…guy, A GUY! YEAH! He was a guy like em!

“Thought you all stand for GUY RIGHTS?”

HE ALWAYS TOPS! Yeah so maybe he had a PHAG, but it was clear they are ‘sabotaging’ his GAY STREAM and tryin’ makin’ it the way it ought to be!

Full of SHYT-talkin’, assholes are dragging him down to THEIR level. A more rodent, nastier bunch instead of friendly GHEYS! But alright! If these idiots want to game, then they gonna-

>Look PHAG, if you want to WIN you gotta stop sucking

“SUK DEEZ NUTS!”

GOTTEM

An obnoxious Tenor bursted out from the man, retaliating like an immature douchebag as he finally sunk to their level. Height stooping at an average 5ft 9, GPA scores barely scrapping by the median. A fellow backslider like the crowd.

And HE was going to let these DOUCHEBOIS get it HARD!

>Just Chillax Gay Boi

“I AM CHILLAX!”

He sneered, as his voice rose into a stupidly obnoxious loud tenor, allowing that youthful tone engulf him in an asian tan like his peers, makin’ sure he is part of the Hivemind that is Snitch culture.

“No Sweats allowed…Just CHILLAX man…”

Feeling his mind sinking into the mass rebellious conformity that is his gamin’ community, his voice cooled slightly, gifted the flexibility to yell when he WANTS to BOIIII!

His buttoned down fused, as the simple white tee clung over his frame with slackened glee, bluntly accentuating his pectorals, as a typical print was plastered over like another typical meshed up shirt that the zoomers would wear.

He was NO SWEAT, Trousers shortening up to his thighs, lightening up into a more mesh, flexible material. Hanging loose L-sized on his waist are his flaming red basketball shorts, stickin’ out like a sore thumb whenever the dude stands up or goes for a bathroom breaks.

>Yo streamer, you a player?

“Am I a play-yer?”

The young man slurred, smirking as he acknowledged that remark, teasing those thirsty PHAGS and RATZ like he always does.

ResidentSnorer and various funny frogs spammed the chat box like no other, skyrocketing his view count to the thousands.

The young Boi loved every minute of it. He was getting the fame, boi.

“Course I am, ain’t easy being this good…”

>u dating someone?

“DAY-TING?”

Slippers took a hit in their quality, soft material becoming a pair of stretchable basketball shoes. Made for the kind of guy who keeps his options open.

Both in da basketball court, and in da bed. And yeah, it was technically his home. Well, he and his GAY fiancé’s. But it’s mostly a BRO thing! Roommates with benefits!

“Boiz, I have a fiancé , but..”

>Sounds Sus

>you gay or what?

His eyes widened, SHYT, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Not that he minded the older man…except when he was being GHEY-but weren’t they a couple…of MEN.

But aren’t they together? Da SHYT! He was a playah! BUT what about that time when they cuddled-BRUH that’s GHEY! BUT WHAT ABOUT-YOU GHEY BROSKI? BRO? B-

“BUTT-FK! I mean…I MEAN my BOI-FRIEND!”

>MEGAFAG

Fiddling the ring, the band stretched beyond the size of his palm, turning into pure eleastic as it slid down his right wrist, loosely fitting like its part of some showoffy trend.

As the chat continues to spam various emotes, including a distinct rainbow head, don’t these douchebags know he’s single and ready to mingle? Why are they thinkin’ he’s gonna be bangin’ it with some dude?

“Who you noobs calling GAY? It’s just ONE night!”

> QUEER ALERT!

> GAY GAY GAY

One hand palming below, the other one flippin the stream. Colson Groh’s darkened hair flicked down the side, his new asian ethnicity fully taking hold without remorse, blending in with the group of bullies pickin’ on him and his-FAG!

“One night of PRANKIN FAGS!”

Picking on em hard, he wasn’t one of em, but man is it HOT setting them STRAIGHT! The twenty two year college dude smirked, as PHAGS couldn’t resist starin’ at his clean-shaven slack-jaw and risen cheekbones till they get completely RAT PRANKED.

GGEZ

>Ayyy LIT

>Lets go BOI

>AFKin’ RAT!

“Bet you all can’t get ladies to your doorstep.”

>Check GayPay

GayPay my arse, StraightCoin’s the deal bro.

Though speakin’ of ladies. Hot damn…is he THAT dry? Cause he’s having that fantasy every straight, gamin’ charged college guy’s has.

Surrounded by hot ladies.

Then again, he’s always THIRSTIN’. Course, a guy like him can get a bunch of women in a flash. But he totally can jerk like a maiden-less douchebag like a bunch of the idiots watchin’ him.

Makes him relatable to his RATZ, yeah? Sides, nothin’ wrong with a lil jerkin’ on cam, nothing GHEY bout it!

>Yo RAT, check out your numbers

>BRO past 7k

>NO CAP

LIT_GUD: +7k subs

“Nggh!”

Rapidly vibrating his 7 inch joystick, brows raised as they thinned out. The last bit of hesitation melting away, making way for youthful gamin’ bravado as a seedy wide grin beamed in the stream.

“How to LIT GUD getting chicks?”

>PRO-DUCTION BRO!

>GIT LIT STREAM!

>YEEEEAAAAH BOI!

Comments flooding all over his stream, a mass mindset and mentality calling all to pump. PUMP! Pumping his POG-O STICK to the MAX! The Go-To-Game for men of his kind.

The HIGH score, as his eyes narrowed in utmost dumb simplicity, tilting his head upward to the ceiling as he grinned wildly as he thought bout’ that simple fantasy!

All da LADIES comin’ at him. YAAA BOIII!

“JUST LIT GUD BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Colton Goh no scoped all over his boxers, slumping back as drops of youthful rebellion spluttered all over, mucking it with obnoxious bully testosterone like he always does.

Feels so LIT! Being able to climax whenever the heck he wants, why abstain when he can just LIT GUD MAN! All those goody two shoe brethren back at campus grounds are really missin’ out.

But of course, he’ll scoop the remaining wads of mayo to his jerk off bottle later. He may be a backslider, but he gotta be up in his production game, beat his last record and all that shiz.

Speakin’ of which.

“E….Z….”

7k’s still just rookie numbers for a guy like him, but considering he got it all in a bunch of hours, he’s as good as the pros like the rest of em’!

“Yo…and that’s how you dudes get the ladies, man.”

>AYYYOOOO

>MY STREAMER!

>YA BOIIIIII

“Boiz, if you see any gays going all homo on ya. You gotta give em the LIT GUD!”

Normally he would collab with his streaming buds, but he really oughta help his Bromies out by teachin em.

Especially ratting out GHEYS until they turn into a couple of rats like he is. And what better way than to create his own Streamin’ channel? All he got to do was be himself bro.

Brings in the subs, and sides, hot chicks dig him, and fags thirstin’ over him get weeded out until they are a bunch of rats like he and his gamer crew.

‘[TOP] Gay Dude Joined the stream’

Speaking of fags…

“Ayy, a new fag joined the stream, sweet.”

Not sure how did ‘Gay Dude’ squirmed into his ‘TOP’ friends list, but he must’ve added him during that stupid RNG game he tried last night while he drank Heteroade with the bois.

But honestly, heh, he doesn’t give a Rats arse bout em’. After all, he needed someone to dunk on to celebrate his 7k Subs, so why not make sure the fag gets the whole RatChat streamin’ experience?

Heh, this will be hot.

“Give em a couple of Lit Guds in the chat, noobs.”

[mychlapci]

Lockdown getting it into his helm that the reason Prowl can’t seem to carry to term is because he’s too skinny. He could be right or not, but he’s convinced that getting some more mesh on those struts can only help!!! Prowl’s a little resistant at first. I don’t think he naturally has much of an appetite, tbh. And he’s maybe a little scared that Lockdown won’t find him as attractive afterwards. Little does he fucking know. He finally agrees to try it under the stipulation that if Lockdown wants him eating more then he’ll be the one providing the food. Not a problem.

Prowl eats whatever Lockdown puts in front of him, when it’s put in front of him, but he’s stoic about it. Doesn’t really seem to enjoy it much. Until Lockdown gets him tied to a berth or a chair, hand-feeding him until his stomach is tight and bulging while he torments Prowl’s spike and node with a vibrator. Just giving him a little buzz for every obedient suck or swallow, tenderly filling his mouth every time it opens. Even when his skinny little partner tries to whine that he’s full. Prowl only gets to overload if he manages to finish every bite, but Lockdown will rub his sore tummy and stroke his slowly growing curves afterwards whether he succeeds or not.

Eventually it progresses from Prowl being tied down with a vibrator taped to his ‘clitties,’ as Lockdown likes to call them (filthy mouth on that mech, I just know it), to him warming Lovkdown’s spike at the table. Not allowed to rock back onto that fat, deliciously modded spike unless he’s a good bot and eats what his mech has provided. Prowl can’t help but moan when Lockdown teases him, pulling a bite away from his mouth to make him chase it. He feels too full to swallow another bite, but he does it anyway just to feel Lockdown roll his hips and tell him how gorgeous he is. He didn’t used to like this so much, but the feeling off fullness and the body worship after have changed his mind completely. He looks pregnant after some of his feedings, even though he isn’t. Belly round and taut with fuel and cum. Cradling and rubbing at it, desperately charged up as he asks so sweetly for and overload.

And it genuinely drives Lockdown crazy—probably gets to /all/ of the ‘cons—when his increasingly chubby belly begins to jiggle as he moves. They can’t stop staring at his fat aft and thick thighs as they sway almost seductively. His trim, muscular ninjabot frame is gone, leaving what looks like a fertility goddess in its wake. Prowl’s newly soft body is a point of pride for Lockdown, since ‘con culture finds having a skinny carrier shameful. Failure to provide for a mate is a major no-no. But clearly Lockdown has been putting in the work lately, because his twig of a mate has been putting on the pounds. Just look at that fat, juicy aft jiggle! It shakes when Lockdown slaps it, and it makes Prowl gasp and arch his back every time. Pussy clenching on whatever toy the bounty hunter has insisted he wear that day.

Soon Lockdown isn’t just increasing the amount of fuel Prowl takes in, he’s modifying his diet altogether. Adding in certain nutrients that are supposed to be good for fertility, vitamins and minerals to help Prowl’s changing frame get the memo. An aid for lactation here. An aphrodisiac there. Prowl knows, of course, but it the thought of it makes him so wet. He agreed to let Lockdown control his fueling, after all, and none of the results have hurt or hindered him… just made him unbearably horny.

Prowl’s tits have been growing and swelling the whole time, getting more sensitive with each specially tailored meal until they begin to leak while he’s sitting on Lockdown’s spike at the table. The bounty hunter smirks triumphantly as the wet milk begins to drip down Prowl’s chassis, silencing the bot’s whines and pleas with another mouthful of aphrodisiac oil. Lockdown tells him that he’s turning into “such a sweet, pretty little Mama for Daddy,” but that he’s missing the most important part of that equation: the baby.

His chubby little autobot mate can only whine and cry in pleasure when Lockdown takes him on the table, filling him up to the brim with load after load of cum. Swelling that belly as Prowl arches his back and tries to take him deeper. Sucking his tits dry to ensure they produce even more the next time. Desperate to get an overload after his feeding got him so charged up. Rarely used spike dripping where the head is peeking out of its sheathe. Lockdown strokes at Prowl’s clitties, teasing him about the size of his spike even though it’s a fairly standard size for Prowl’s model. The cutesy nickname always makes Prowl’s pussy gush.

Lockdown finally gets his fat little baby mama pregnant and starts calling him Mommy in public, much to Prowl’s secret pleasure. Kept stuffed full of fuel and spike when and wherever Lockdown can manage it, he continues to gain weight through the whole carriage until the baby arrives. And Lockdown couldn’t be more smug about being right, making Prowl say it over and over as he strokes his little wifey’s node until he overloads. It’s only a matter of time before Prowl begs to get pregnant again.

hmmm you know, i bet that if Prowl had left with Lockdown to become a full-fledged bounty hunter and bed-warmer, it’d quickly turn out that since Lockdown works with so many ‘Cons, using his skinny little twink to bait and seduce ‘em just won’t work… He’s gonna have to make a mommy out of him. 

I love that it’s a given on this blog that tfa Prowl is miscarriages georg. He’s too skinny to carry!! Lockdown decides to fatten him up. mhmmm Prowl getting more and more chubby the more Lockdown feeds him… plush valve squeezing his spike, fat titties bouncing, he would never think to refuse a spoonful of energon, even if he’s already full. When he’s got the thighs that can support a big, swollen belly, Lockdown decides it’s time to make his little autobot a mommy. He needs him fatter, bigger, sexier. 

Of course, I don't think Prowl loses any of his fighting skills. If Lockdown drags him along to a deal and he’s only there to be ogled, distracting all the sleazy ’Cons while Lockdown talks them into paying a higher price for the bounty, and one of them thinks they can cop a feel at the cute autobot’s jiggly thighs, they’ll be gasping on the ground under his feet in under a second. 

Prowl’s first baby is born healthy and very fat. Lockdown can’t wait to put another one into him. 

[athleticbelly]

You were once an athlete. Not the best one in your school, but your physique definitely portrayed you as one. Lean muscle, strong legs, and endurance to match. You ate a lot to keep up with that physical activity.

Then you went to college. Classes took priority and your diet never changed. Not by much. Some of the healthier meals were replaced with hot pockets and ramen. You tried to work out, but your physical activity diminished when your friend group grew. You spent so much time socializing and enjoying the company of friends that it was only a matter of time until that waistline stopped being so trim. Pants a little tighter, shirts lifting up a bit more, underwear cutting in a little to uncomfortably. It was only when you hit your second year that you realized you had been gaining weight.

Once it started to warm up for spring and you started putting on your tank top you noticed how difficult it was to bring below your navel. That soft mound of flesh that is starting to hide your feet is in the way. A prod here, a grab there, and you realize you have really put on some weight. Yes the panic sets in and you started to think on ways to lose it, but you had an appearance to maintain with your friends. So you bailed on spring break to try and workout. That's when you met me.

Of course I was also trying to lose weight and build an athletic figure, but you showed up and blew me away. I was a little chubby with a small potbelly and thicker thighs, but you definitely had me outclassed by 30+ pounds. Your belly hung over your belt buckle. Your developing second chin was almost prominent. You breathed so heavily that I felt mine leave me because you took my breath away. And I had to have you.

So I introduced myself. We talked and parted ways to other corners of the gym. Eventually, over a few weeks, we got closer and talked more. You lost some weight and so did I. We were both honestly very motivational to each other. You could fit in some of your early college outfits and I could fit into some of my old uniforms.

But I missed how big you were. We started dating and you were so easily molded. We built up such a rapport and you trusted me so much that you didn't realize I was upping your portions. Now, with you going to the gym you did pack on more muscle, but there was equal parts fat to go with it. Your abs forever being hidden by a layer of chub. Your biceps large, but ultimately soft. And that round face stayed round. It was only when one night you brought up that you couldn't seem to lose weight that I decided to lay down the bombshell statement;

"I love you at any size, and I wouldn't mind more of you to love~"

And that's when I had you. You were cautious at first. We talked about it and explained further how I love how fat you were and how you are now, but I did admit I would prefer if you were more fat than fit. And we came to an agreement. If you didn't enjoy being fat in a year's time then I have to help you lose weight. So, I helped you enjoy it!

I baked and cooked all of your meals. Made shakes with whey protein, bananas, and peanut butter to quicken your gains with some added buttermilk to speeden things up. And the amount of fat, sweaty sex that showed my appreciation for the art form that is your body. You grew so fast over the course of half a year. 95+ pounds later and you couldn't see your feet! Your belly rested halfway on your too thick thighs, and not to mention how difficult it was to get you in a chair. You started to long for my cooking and even begged at times for me to feed you. Unfortunately for my own figure I got overzealous and didn't realize you could only handle so much food and drink. So I had to have some of my own. And it made a lot of my outfits too tight. Button up shirts had to always be unbuttoned and I had to resort to stretchy waistbands for all of my pants.

And then the year mark came. You could barely move you were so obese. You forgot about the deal, but I didn't. I reminded you and now here you are. Wondering if you enjoy the state you are in. A nearly immobile monolith of fat.

So how does it feel~? Being a former athlete and now a product of a nurturing partner~

[kokusfluffyhair]

Tahomaru Modern AU Headcanons

Someone on here (you know who you are) got me into Dororo 4 years too late and now I'm obsessed. Let's see if this reaches anyone from the probably dead fandom of this underappreciated anime.

I really got captivated by Tahomaru. I probably see too much of myself in him. I can't stop imagining him in the modern world now.

(In this Modern AU, Tahomaru and Hyakkimaru grew up together as brothers and there was no contract with the demons.)

Tahomaru is a minor, so I will only write SFW headcanons.

+ He's gone through a lot of different style stages, from preppy (to look like the good boy to impress his mother) to sporty (trying to seem more athletic to impress his father) and found himself switching up between emo and luxury streetwear.

+ He really likes Italian designers like Gucci and Versace. (His parents are rich, so why not) Yes, he thinks he looks cool in those flashy, overly-printed items.

+ He either wears those clunky trainers with 'BALENCIAGA' written on them or DocMartens.

+ He is probably damaging his hair with the amount of product he uses in it. That hair's gotta be SPIKY.

+ The reason why he's so into his style is because it helps him to hide from his low self-esteem.

+ He compares himself to Hyakkimaru a lot, especially when it comes to their appearances. Tahomaru is bulkier/bigger-boned than his older brother and has a rougher-looking face. Hyakkimaru always got more attention from girls, which Tahomaru blames on his appearance.

+ He complains that he's fat (even though he's not) but he loves fried food and won't give it up.

+ He tries to make up for what he's lacking by being loud and overly-extroverted. But it seems to backfire.

+ He once tried to trim and groom his eyebrows, thinking it would make him more attractive, but he ended up trimming them too much. His mother giggled at him. His father got angry and insulted him.

+ He tries to spend as little time at home with his family as possible.

+ He has trouble making friends and often ends up pushing others away by being a brat.

+ He's gone through the phase of picking up skateboarding.

+ He's gone through the phase of trying to learn the guitar but smashed it out of frustration because it was too difficult for him.

+ He's also gone through the online gamer phase, but it was short-lived after he got into fights with too many people on the internet.

+ He tends to get into trouble. He doesn't shoplift or anything like that, but he would skateboard where he's not supposed to, loiter where he's not supposed to, do something stupid like knock over a bin on the street when he's angry.

+ He does okay in school. He doesn't fail anything but he doesn't get great marks. (Neither does Hyakkimaru, though he does better than his younger brother does.)

+ He once tried going to therapy, ended up doing some extreme trauma-dumping on the therapist that led him to burst into tears, and then refused to go back out of his own personal feeling of shame.

+ He acts tough, almost like some wannabe gangster, but he is really sensitive, hurt, and broken inside.

+ He does all he can to avoid having to face and deal with his own shit.

+ He likes to draw, and he's pretty good at it. He has to hide it from his father, who thinks art isn't manly enough of a hobby. His mother isn't very encouraging either because no matter how brilliant he is, whatever Hyakkimaru does is better.

+ The first time he had a crush, he spent hours writing a love letter in beautiful, calligraphy-like handwriting. He was brutally rejected.

+ Now whenever he tries to confess to someone, he does it through these cocky, lame pick-up lines that get him laughed at, and also rejected.

+ The worst time was when a girl agreed to go out with him just so she could get closer to Hyakkimaru.

+ Whenever Mutsu tries to give him tips on talking to girls, he doesn't listen.

(I wish I could write something more positive for him 😭)

[cherokeegal1975]

Free Audiobook on Youtube with a private feedback comment included.

I know this is a repost, but bear with me. There is a reason for it. I'm making sure you know what this comment is about. These next paragraphs between the quotes are not my words. They were written to me in a kind of letter attached to the first chapter of my book. Noonibean was doing me a solid just because she wanted to. She quit after the fifth chapter. Still grateful years later anyway.

This is purely a copy paste, I changed nothing:

"Please forgive me; I started off using Microsoft track changes, but it was taking me FOREVER and I was also afraid all the notes and splices might confuse you. So I went ahead and just gave everything a facelift and kept it in black. Next time, I will write my changes in a different color.

Okay, so first of all, I really think you have something great here, and I’m not just blowing smoke. I love the world you have built, and I am already very intrigued by the storyline. You captured Johnny’s relationship with Little Girl beautifully, and the same goes for Goldie. You can tell they all care about each other deeply. Is it weird that Johnny kind of reminds me of Aladdin? Lol, I think it’s the desert vibe and the growing up with thieves thing.

I love that you started the story with a strong action hook, but since you backtrack from there, I’m wondering if you can find a clear and concise way to transition into the past. Even if it’s a sentence or two about his mind going back into the past as he runs. (He doesn’t actually reach the rocks/resting place in this chapter, right? I just assumed he was running this whole time.)

You paint the pictures and scenes wonderfully, and I can imagine all of it as I read – just be careful not to add too much where explanation isn’t necessary. I noticed you have a tendency to over-explain certain things about the characters or the situation. We don’t always need to know the “why.” Try to keep it clean and concise so as not to slow down the narrative. This first chapter is extremely tough too, because it is practically all narrative and there is very little dialogue. Just because you know certain things about the characters doesn’t mean your audience needs to know them. Let them figure a few things out for themselves. Remember to give your readers the credit they deserve. They are smarter than you think, and not everything has to be explained to them, especially when you “show” rather than “tell.” All the rest is just fluff. For example, because you’re a good writer, I already assumed LG could see well in the dark, and I knew how much Johnny cared about her.

Basically, I went in and corrected some grammar, and trimmed the “fat” to make everything read tighter without affecting the real meat of the story. For example, instead of three paragraphs about Johnny’s sand ship, we really only need one-and-a-half. The narrative I cut out can easily be peppered in throughout the rest of the book if absolutely necessary, so let me know if there was something I took out that was crucial. I don’t think I did, though.

Regarding the action scenes, remember that tight, short sentences convey the sense of urgency best. Longer sentences slow the action down, so I shortened the cliff jumping scene as well as the fight scene. Another thing I did was re-arrange sentences to make them flow more naturally, and remove “filler” adjectives along with invisible words like “that” and “of.”

I tried to deepen Johnny’s point of view. For example, since we are in his POV, you wouldn’t need to say: “He knew there was a way to drive down from up there.” You would simply put: “There was a way to drive down from up there.” Since we are in his mind, he already knows it. Know what I mean?

Lastly, words like “was” and “to be” tend to make a story read more passively, so I like to use them sparingly. If I can think of a different way to word the sentence without using those passive words, I will do that instead. Example of a passive sentence (which we don’t want): “He was tired and hungry.” Same thing, but active instead: “Wariness overcame him, and his stomach growled with hunger pangs.”

Also, is it Prince Richard or King Richard? I was hella confused, lol. It’s king in the beginning, and then Prince after that. I would choose one and stick with it or explain why he is now being called Prince.

I really hope some of this made sense. I tend to ramble. Let me know what you think about the edits I made. I am really looking forward to reading more!"

This is a comment from a lovely lady that goes by Noonibean on DeviantART. I am respecting her privacy by not posting her real name. I did follow her advice in my manuscript and on my posts for this book on DeviantART (I'm CherokeeGal1975 there too), but the fixes do not appear in the actual novel because I'm doing a hands off policy until I can get some more help from a professional editor. But I thought I'd share this since she did have some very positive things to say about my book.

I can't fix the audiobook, that will have to come much later. I think I'd rather hire someone to be my reader once I have all the work done I need to do. Not sure when that will be, but I set it as a life goal...or to put it another way, it's on my bucket list.

I'd love to read what you think as well.

P.S. - Noonibean did the cover art for my Kindle version of Unexpected Cargo. I would've used it for my paperback version of it, but for some reason Amazon wouldn't let me. So I just keep that cover art as a treasured file.

[philosophicalparadox]

Let's have fun with feelings!

Originally I was going to submit this for the 12 days of Casca event, but it just didn't seem to fit most of the prompts, and its really angsty, so eh 🤷

EDIT: it's been updated with what will probably be the final version of this scene, and the official title of the fic. I finally had enough chapters compiled to come up with a fitting title. :) I've also trimmed it down via line break so it's not wall-o-text on my poor followers feed. It's a few character-thought paragraphs longer though I must say.

Anyway, have a scene/chapter from the WIP I keep changing the name of - now officially called Never Sleep Alone. I've tossed around with a title for this for a while but that one's sticking for now. Sums up the theme pretty well. :p

Slightly NSFW; nothing too overtly sexy but there's a hurt/comfort-sex vibe and implications thereof.

Pairing: Griffith x Casca - Almost. :) Underpinnings of Griffith x Guts. Griffith is Confused with a capital C.

Context: this is a Griffith-stops-Guts-from-leaving fic, and this scene happens when Casca seeks Griffith out after events on the hill, before he can get into trouble with Charlotte...or anyone else, in theory. Buuuuut.....well. That's not quite how Griffith works, unfortunately.

NOTE: Braies are the medieval equivalent of underwear.

Enjoy!

Casca knew where he was headed; she didnt have to think as her feet studiously brought her before the Noble-quarters Griffith was staying in whilst in Wyndam on behalf of the king while his own manor received it's reconstruction. It was in a high-brow neighborhood of course, a light reddish tint to the White wash on Griffith's dwelling making it distinct from the other town-homes on either side of it.

Casca moved without much thought or consideration as she went through the motions of inviting herself inside. It had been a long, confusing, emotional evening, and if she was this strung out, she knew Griffith was at least twice as bad.

The housekeep were polite and understanding, though they seemed at once quite unsettled, though she could only guess at why. One of them, a swarthy, sun kissed old woman, did remark briefly that they had heard him "moving things about" upstairs, and that when he had let himself in earlier, he seemed very pensive and hadn't said a word to anyone. Casca wasn't sure she knew what they meant by "moving things around", but she wasn't sure of a lot of things right now, except that Griffith, despite successfully disarming Guts - and nearly taking his leg in the process - had to be hurting right now. In fact, she quite confidently knew he was struggling right now. How he was dealing with it, like so many things tonight, she was not sure of; but she recognised when her instincts were trying to tell her something, and right now they were telling her to go to him, before he did something he would regret.

If there was one thing she knew about Griffith better than anyone, it was his tendency to act out or become some flavor of weird and reclusive when he felt down. Often that manifested as shutting himself in his tent for two days, barely eating a thing; sometimes it meant he would take a long walk by himself or ride away to some unknown place for a few hours. Other times she would come upon him dressed down to his braies, shivering himself into sensibility by letting the cold numb him. She tried not to disturb him too much when he was like this, unless she thought he was hurting himself too badly; and she would have let him alone tonight. But she had a feeling, deep in her gut, that he would end up doing exactly that if she didn't keep an eye on him.

"Griffith?" She called, rapping her knuckles on his bedroom door. "It's Casca. I just...wanted to see how you're doing. Make sure you're okay." She struggled with the words in her mouth as though they were chewed fat, sticky and awkward. A few moments passed, and in the time there was not a sound to be heard from the other side of the door. She went to tap the wood again with the back of her hand, but stopped when he finally responded.

"Come here." He called back quietly, his voice surprisingly even, though he sounded a little raspy. Casca paused, her intuition finding some issue with the invitation. It wasn't the stunning formality she was used to, and though that made her happy on some level, that he would drop the ruse to invite her in, it also heightened her concern. She shook the nerves away and opened the door - to find a sight she'd of better assumed to be the work of a determined house theif than the man before her.

Papers were strewn about everywhere, his desk where they had presumably been settled was wildly ajar, it's fresh-scuffed surface betraying the violence with which it was put into that position, with drawers shuddered open and edges chipped and notched. A simple, long dagger stood glinting from its splintered top, and suddenly the notches and scratches in its leading edge made a cold kind of sense. Even the curtain on his bed was ripped from its stays and had clearly been mutilated by the very same blade. 'Moving things about indeed' she surmised - but the idea was far from amusing. Instead a heavy dread settled into her gut like a stone, recognizing the handiwork of rage and pain that she would have never presumed her commander capable in this disaster of a room; she hated herself for it, but she'd of been lying if she said it didn't intimidate her, on a subconscious level. She'd never seen Griffith lose his temper, not ever, so seeing such a wanton display - accentuated by the dagger, plunged so deep into the wood he'd of had to throw his whole weight atop it - definitely scared her.

"Don't." Griffith broke the stiff, heavy silence with a small plea. "Don't be frightened of me." He looked up at her from where he stood, braced against the window ledge with his hands, his body awkwardly slumpy and clearly tired - it wasn't until then that Casca noticed that, in spite of how level he sounded, he was just as much of a wreck as the room. Young bruises and a few scrapes of blood coloured his knuckles, vivid against his milky skin. He had on his neck the faintest flush of pink and a thin veneer of sweat, and his breathing was more ragged than it sounded. But it was his eyes that truly gave him away - fading signs of bloodshot eyes and a wavering, barely-focused view told her stories of tears that had since dried and retreated from view.

And she understood, in that moment, how deeply she had underestimated his attachment - and maybe affection - to Guts.

Her thoughts were swirling. 'I knew something happened between them. Guts was so determined - and, like it or not, he was always going to win that fight. He was always going to win - you don't have the strength to best him anymore, and you both knew that; hell, if I knew that, then so did you, right? But he didn't win - why? Was it the look in your eyes when he was making the final blow? Did you show him the depth of your feelings? On accident? On purpose? Why?' Casca didn't know. But she understood - and that is what he needed right now.

Someone to understand. Someone who wouldn't judge him for the sin of being in love with the wrong person. Someone who could embrace him in spite of it. Just like before, just like that time in the river after...that, had happened.

Or, at least that's what she thought he needed.

Casca didn't have time to offer words or gesture. "Oof! What? - " she was caught off guard when Griffith suddenly threw himself at her, gathering her tightly in his arms - so tight she could barely breathe. Initially she was frightened - but his embrace was too gentle to hurt her, however hard he was squeezing, and he wasn't making any moves to lay her open or some such.

On one hand, she was pleasantly surprised; but her gut, which had been very talkative this evening, told her something was very wrong here. Griffith never initiated things like this, not with her - not with anyone that she knew of, not even Guts. A slow, semi-painful squeeze forced the air from her lungs completely and distracted her from her thoughts for a moment; but it was over as quick as it started, and he let go of her just enough to lean back and look at her face, searching for something Casca didn't know how to identify. He was always so clandestine. Not for the first time, she wondered how much of that was innate and how much he did it on purpose.

"Please," Griffith pleaded, a vague, distant, and if Casca were guessing right, jaded look in his pale eyes. "Don't be frightened of me. I am far more dangerous to myself right now than you." Casca's heart dropped at the confession, still too breathless to form a response, or even think of one. Her breath then stopped completely, heart flying unceremoniously into her throat, when Griffith's hand trailed feather-light upon her cheek, his eyes taking a darker, more subdued hue. His long, pale lashes glinted in the lamp light, and Casca felt her whole upper body flush with what was no doubt a ruddy blush.

"I want you." He breathed, bringing their faces so close she could have counted the lashes on his half-closed eyes. His hand then rested, open palmed but still so light, so gentle, upon her warming cheek. "I want you to be brave, Casca. Can you do that?" He whispered, leaning toward her other ear. She felt their cheeks brush just barely and couldn't resist a gasp as her lungs gave out from their neglect. "Can you be brave for me?" His voice held an undeniably seductive lilt this time, and Casca abruptly realised the darkish look she hadn't then recognised to be one she'd seen easily a thousand times - just not on his face. Never on his face.

"I don't...understand?" She defended weakly, her breath suddenly returning to her in heavy gasps, pulling away from him on reflex. But his arms held her fast in place, and at once pulled her closer; he then buried his face in her shoulder and neck, breathing deeply. Casca was horribly confused, and habitually a little bit scared, but her reflex to push him away left when she felt him tremble. It was slight, and if she hadn't of been looking for something like that to offer explanation to the situation, she'd of probably missed it. But it was there, a tiny, barely perceptible shaking in his shoulders that shuddered through him to his nose and jaw where he pressed them to her skin.

She didn't fight him when they started moving, a cautious curiosity feeding strange ideas in her mind as he led her to the exposed edge of his bed. When the corner pressed into the back of her thigh, suddenly she felt sparks. Was this happening? She seen him draw back and pause for a moment, before bringing up his hand to guide her face to his, silently asking permission, she presumed. She did not deny him, and met his soft, warm and surprisingly dry mouth with a mixture of elatement and apprehension.

She knew then that he didn't mean her harm, and once that was established, it was like nothing else mattered. Her mind went peacefully blank, offering him whatever it was he was asking from her - she would be his anything if it meant he went back to normal. If it meant she could be helpful. If it made her more than a sticky thorn in his side. She knew - she could sense his annoyance with her at times, could sense the shift in his disposition when he was trying to shield his emotions from her. But this... this was new. This was different. This was Griffith, in his purest, rawest form. And she wasn't going to give him any reason why he shouldn't show her more of this side of him, a side he so desperately needed to share with somebody.

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

He reached down to twine his hands with hers, kissing her neck gently, cautiously. She had no idea where this was meant to be going, but she did not resist. It wasn't worth it to resist - though if it was fear forcing that feeling upon her, it didnt make itself known. She was both calm and restless. She was elated, but also felt defeated, somehow. Like he had just won a fight she had not realised they were having.

The speed at which the kiss escalated surprised but did not disappoint her - she had always wondered why it was men blathered on about the 'taste' of a person, but she kinda understood it now; as did she understand why the previously gross notion of having someone else's tongue in her mouth was such a celebrated win among the rookies. He seemed to have a degree of skill in this endeavor, winding and twining his tongue in hers, though she dare not think how he may have acquired such experience. Their soft tongues tasted and tested each other curiously, and Casca wondered for a moment if all men tasted like this or if it was unique to him. She'd of liked to prefer the latter.

Upon meeting, Casca suddenly felt his possible intention pressing into the hollow of her hip, and a flutter of anxiety struck her like a dull sword in the chest - but it was very swiftly overwhelmed by the excitement growing from below, which roared from a dull possibility into a very different sense of reality, of proximity, as her body seemed to instinctively know what that was and what she wanted it to do to her.

She did not get much longer to ponder though before a much firmer hand than had previously touched her found the crook of her thigh below her butt, and lifted her the short distance onto the bed. It was a jarring experience, enough to break their kiss momentarily, and in nearly the same motion, he gently leaned onto her, using the hand that had been cradling her face and neck to push her back by the waist until she lied down. Before she could mutter an utterance, their lips - and tongues - resumed their business as if there had been no interruption. His hands, freed of the need to prevent her escaping, apparently, now wandered to all but her most sensitive places, tracing gentle, sensual shapes up her sides, tracing dashed lines up and down her outer thigh. It was exhilarating.

He then quite abruptly used both hands on her buttox to move her upward, higher on the bed - bringing his own hips along with, and meeting her own with a small sigh that escaped somehow between them.

She could not resist a soft moan when he moved from her lips finally to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the corner of her jaw as he simultaneously held her arms down gently beside her head, pulling back so he could push his sex into hers, pressing just until the pressure seemed it might tear through their clothes. She reacted with a tremble, sliding her legs up his flanks before entwining them around him, pulling him closer, tighter, asking for something she had, to his knowledge, never known.

He stopped, then. Froze, to be more precise - a stiff statue of his formerly passionate self. Casca looked up at him, bitterly confused, but became concerned instead when she seen the ghost of pain on his face. It wasn't physical pain, though - no, he was still pressing into her, still stiff as wood - no, this was another pain entirely, and Casca honestly understood none of it.

"You don't want this." He said morosely, with a bizzare form of authority. He turned his face away from her then, trying to hide his expression, which nonetheless betrayed the key to this sudden interruption - shame. "You don't want me to treat you like this." He half-whipsered, jaw going tight and arms stiffened from restraint.

Casca was a little dazed. "Wh- yes, I do. I would have stopped you otherwise."

"No, you wouldn't, and we both know it." He said starkly. Those words struck something in her then, sending her heart racing with - what was that? Fear? No. Panic? Why? Because she was losing her chance? Because he was now backing away from her, moving across the room with hanging head to sit as unceremoniously as she'd ever seen him sit onto the chair beside his desk? Because he was rejecting her, again? Because she wasn't good enough, again? Why then? Why offer her a taste if he was just going to rip it away like that? For what? His pride?

"Griffith, I -"

Casca desperately wanted to cry, to scream, to be angry and hurt - and she was. But the words Griffith next spoke offered respite, first in the form of feeling doubly offended, making her anger overshadow her pain for a moment: "You don't want me to treat you like a whore." He said firmly, folding in on himself.

... and then in the form of feeling a wave of regret pass over her for it, for he uttered softly, a moment later, "...I would know."

His bruised and bloody knuckles tightened around his shirt on his upper arms, a familiar coping behavior that Casca immediately recognised - and understood precisely what he meant. And it shattered any resolve she might've had to be angry at him for rejecting her.

"You should go." He interrupted. It was not phrased as a suggestion. "I...need to be alone, for a while."

Casca felt lost. One minute, they were breaths away from taking their clothes off, then she wanted to throttle him, and now he wanted her to leave?

And yet she couldn't argue with his logic, as per usual. After all, what would they have been? A single night tryst made in the throes of a passion that wasn't made for her? A union made from the desperate trappings of greif and longing? For another man, no less. She was hurt - oh, was she hurting. But she couldn't find the will to argue. He was right - maybe it was better this way. He was always right.

But she had never before wanted so, so desperately for him to be wrong.

"Thank you, Casca." Griffith said suddenly. "For checking in on me. Believe it or not, I needed that. All of that." Casca fought off a wince. He gave her a small and tired but surprisingly genuine smile, though his usually clandestine eyes now poorly hid a vicious bitterness that Casca knew was not directed at herself - he would have hid it from her otherwise, or at least tried harder. He was funny like that. In spite of everything, his smile was like a soothing balm upon her temperament, and she managed to collect herself even for just a moment. "If you...need, anything else," she fought the tremble in her voice with all her might, forcing it into her shaking hands instead. "You know where to find me." Casca didn't have the strength to look at him when she said that, turning on her heel and walking out the door without a second glance. And yet, she could almost sense the frown behind her. Almost.

She only made it a few steps before her delicate resolve came undone in rivulets, deep breaths trying to disguise sobs as she prepared to go down the stairs. But the wave of emotions would not be held back this time, and so she resolved to escape as quickly as possible, before she was noticed.

Unbeknownst to her, a young and now very confused housemaiden watched her descend.

Feel free to ask questions or comment with suggestions if you have them. I won't be able to put this whole fic up on Ao3 for a minute yet since all the scenes are out of order still, with bridges yet unwritten, so here's a taste for you. :)

[thereaderarchive]

ch.40: Island

• for @drarrymicrofic prompt: Island | words: 913 | Rated: E | all chapters / prev / next

The island was private, with silky soft white sand, still-like-a-pool turquoise water, and nobody around in miles. Unless you counted the house elves, but they never saw them. The food was ready when they needed it, the beds always perfectly made, and the voice in Harry's conscience that sounds like Hermione ready to make him feel just a bit guilty about all of it.

But then Draco walks to him, rivulets of water falling down his body. That spectacular fit body, bloody Auror training. Harry tried not to drool, thank you very much, and then tried not to squirm under his shirt.

"Potter, you asked for this holiday. Get in the water."

It's not that Harry didn't want to cool himself, he was feeling quite hot, to be honest, and not all because Draco looked good enough to eat. But because...

He settled in the chair, minding that the book covered his middle. Harry isn't a fat man, he knows it. In fact, it's hard for him to gain weight (maybe as a consequence of his childhood), but he has cultivated a small paunch (clearly a consequence of his job). Nothing major, but enough present for Draco to squeeze. Harry tried to return the gesture the first time, tried being the key word... bloody Auror training.

"Reading."

"Potter, I rented an island so I could have you in the water. Come with me."

"I-" The chime of bells that announced lunch saved him. "Food is ready!" Draco frowned behind him, Harry could feel piercing eyes.

Harry enjoyed the food. Taking notes on the menu at their table, ready to ask questions on their last day. He wanted to try some of the recipes at home. He would need to import the flowers... maybe he could change them for some local ones?

"Why don't you want to get in the water?"

"What?"

"You are sweating buckets under your shirt. You aren't reading, I've seen you on the same page for days and- Did I do something wrong?" Draco stopped, Adam's apple bobbing worryingly. "Did I pressure you into this holiday? Is it too soon?"

"What? No! It's not you!"

"Right," Draco scoffed, but it wasn't him, really. It was Harry, who was not at all like the girls in tiny swimsuits from the main island, the ones that would grin at Draco, swaying wide hips, showing tight trimmed waists.

"I don't- I don't look as good as you."

"What?"

"I don't! Alright? Nor do I look like that girl who tried to dance with you a few nights ago. I- I know I should hit the gym or something but I have to eat for my job, I have to taste what I make."

"Are you daft? You're gorgeous- have you seen yourself?" Draco was wide-eyed, flapping his arms.

"No, don't do that- I-" he patted his stomach. "I know what I look like."

"You are daft, been saying it since we were eleven." Draco stood, throwing the napkin over the chair before grabbing Harry, and flinging him over his shoulder.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelped.

He apparated them both straight to the bedroom, the white gauze of the curtains floating with the soft breeze, and Draco disappeared all their clothes before dropping in between Harry's legs. He kissed him softly, yet eagerly. Forehead, eyelids, cheeks and nose and lips. Neck, throat, shoulders. Every mole, every mark, every scar. He reached his navel, kissing and biting the soft flesh there.

"Stop!"

"I like all about you," Draco whispered. "I like this," he said kissing his navel. "I like every part." It was all in the glint in Draco's eyes. Harry could see inexplicable adoration there, in the puffiness of his lips after kissing Harry all over, in the blotchy pink of his face after being under the sun for a few days, in the soft freckles blooming over the bridge of his nose. Draco placed open-mouth kisses over Harry's jaw. "Fuck me, Potter. Let me show you how much I want you. How much I only want you," he whispered hotly in Harry's ear.

"I saw you looking at them," Harry said later, thrusting deep, Draco's legs over his shoulders.

"You can wear a bikini if you want, I wouldn't mind you on a thong," Draco said, clenching just to make Harry waver his rhythm.

"I'm not wearing a thong," Harry gasped, lightheaded, so close.

"I can picture it already. Red... uh, no, green! Like your eyes. Maybe with a snake design- shit, there, right there!"

"I'm not wearing a Slytherin thong, you dirty bastard."Harry closed his hand around Draco's cock, feeling it slide with each thrust, and any conversation of ridiculous swimwear was forgotten between moans.

Their sweat was cooling on their skin when Draco spoke again.

"Burgundy red, gold details. I'll find one."

"What are you talking about," Harry asked, his brain mushy.

"The thong. The one you'll wear for me."

"I will not."

"Under those boring black robes you wear to every Ministry gala, no one will know."

"Shut up."

Draco pressed a hand on Harry's middle, cuddling and kissing Harry's stomach."I like all of this. You know I mean it, right?"

"Yeah... yeah. I was- god, you are so-" Harry waved at Draco's body, all of it. Then saw him smirking with his eyes closed, loving the attention, and preening. What a prat.

"Too pale," Draco mumbled moments later. "I prefer you... warm, strong, soft, caring- all of this. All of you."

[shih-coulda-had-it]

27. From the 200 lemon dialogue sorahiko. And sakumo

27. "Hey. Hey. Hey, guess what? Hey? Hey! Hey, guess what! … I love you.” | pre-OT3 shimurastorino, w/ focus on sorahiko/sakumo | wc: ~860

a/n: tw vaguely described Sex Quirk (Pollen-adjacent) but explicitly described situation (>:3c), with consent given prior to the event

//

Looking down at Sorahiko’s arched spine, all tensed muscles and flushed with warmth, Sakumo has the feverish thought that his wife really had the right idea, asking Sorahiko if he would consent to being their secondary all-purpose emergency contact.

Not that they really expected to be blindsided by a Sex Quirk, but he supposes every infamous tall tale has a grain of truth to it. 

“Come on,” says Sorahiko, a thinly-veiled plea disguised as a demand.

“I’m trying to start slow,” Sakumo chides. He tries to hide his fond smile, in case Sorahiko twists around in disbelief, and distracts himself by rubbing the other man’s back, going a little harder on the shoulders than the lower back. A shiver shakes the exhale leaving Sorahiko’s lungs as he goes from his hands to his elbows and even lowers his head.

He stays on his knees. His hips are lifted higher, enticingly. The weak orange light from the nightstand’s lamp just barely touches the slick rim that Sakumo had fingered open minutes ago.

“Just--just go,” he says. “I can take it.”

Sakumo sighs, but ultimately obliges: his left hand cups Sorahiko’s rear, groping at the muscle and fat, teasing the give of the hole with his thumb, and his right hand guides his cock. It’s slippery with lubricant, and blood-hot in Sakumo’s own hand despite the condom. He grits his teeth to hold back a groan.

“Sakumo, Sakumo, come on--please--”

“Slowly,” Sakumo says, shuddering when the tip finally pushes past the lackluster resistance, when he sees, feels, the shaft of his cock being enveloped by heat. “Oh, you feel good. You feel incredible, Sorahiko.”

Sorahiko makes a noise in the back of his throat, rough and helpless, and he tightens at the praise. In a blind attempt to get Sorahiko to repeat that moan, Sakumo grasps for handholds, finds purchase at the trim waist, and thrusts forward. He doesn’t linger long enough for Sorahiko to adjust; he pulls halfway out and fucks back in again, and again, finally satiating that vicious-edged appetite the Quirk had honed.

The exact noise doesn’t make a reappearance, but Sakumo can hear the similarities in the ragged groans that escape Sorahiko’s stranglehold on his vocal cords.

He regrets that Nana and Recovery Girl chose this weekend to have their girls’ trip in Kantonica. If Nana were here--well, if Nana were here, Sakumo would’ve turned to her for relief, not Sorahiko--if she could only just stumble home unexpectedly, and aid Sakumo in wrecking Sorahiko’s sensibilities…!

“So,” Sorahiko manages, “do you--feel any better y-yet?”

Sakumo refuses to even pause (though he flounders internally, because, what? Had Sorahiko not been picking up on all the flirtations and affirmations of his inclusion in their family? Didn’t Nana make enough throuple jokes?), instead letting out a guttural snarl, driving into Sorahiko harder. Boldly, he bends, presses his chest against Sorahiko’s back and holds them together with one arm.

With the other, he splays his hand against a trembling stomach and slides it down, following the treasure trail to Sorahiko’s own hard and leaking cock. 

Sorahiko muffles his cry into the bed. He moves jerkily into the greedy fist, unable to time it with the relentless rocking of Sakumo’s hips. His knees slip open degree by degree.

“Yes,” says Sakumo belatedly, breathless with the effort to stave off his climax until Sorahiko comes first. “Yes, I feel so much better, you’re so good, Sorahiko--”

Another bitten-off cry. A not insignificant burst of air that brushes Sakumo’s legs, and the sudden feeling of something wet and hot smearing onto his hand, but most present of all: Sorahiko’s walls bearing down on Sakumo, convulsive clenching that triggers Sakumo into coming.

The bloodrush dissipates, leaving Sakumo with a faint ringing in his ears. The both of them are gasping in the immediate aftermath, not yet settled into the afterglow, which Sakumo is determined to get. There’s no way he’s just going to let Sorahiko stagger off into the bathroom to ‘clear his head’ or whatever excuse he comes up with in misguided panic.

He noses at the sweat-damp silver hairs fluffing up at the back of Sorahiko’s head. “Hey,” Sakumo breathes, then repositions his mouth closer to the burning pink shell of an ear. “Hey. Hey, guess what?”

“Mngh,” Sorahiko grunts. His legs are still spasming, minute twitches that match the hiccupped gasps for air. Clumsily, his hand fumbles the shove at Sakumo’s right forearm.

“Hey? Hey!”

“Stop touching my dick,” he says in a rasp, squirming.

Sakumo is reluctant to move, but magnanimously wipes his hand on the folded towel they (Sorahiko) laid on the bed to protect it from stains, then hugs Sorahiko tighter. He says, insistent, “Guess what!”

“What?”

He swallows past the apprehension in his throat, but if Sakumo doesn’t say it now, if he tries to wait for that ‘opportune’ time, as Nana likes to wax eloquent about, then he’ll be waiting forever. He wants so badly for Sorahiko to stay in their bed, and their home, and their life. He needs to take the first step, so Nana has the confidence to add her voice.

Carefully, Sakumo confesses in a firm, steady voice, “... I love you.”

[mareastrorum]

⭐!! Talk about something in chapter nine!

Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

Director’s Cut ask game.

Oh man, how to choose.

To recap for anyone who hasn’t read chapter 8 of The Fool and the Soldier (a Molly Lives AU) in a while, the Mighty Nein have arrived at Darktow and decided to take advantage of Avantika’s claim that they would be there for at least another day. Thus, Nott and Jester don’t steal her journal in the night. Fjord will be distracting Avantika during the day while everyone else hunts for a way to expose her cult to the Plank King and hopefully get them out of this Uk’otoa mess.

Chapter 9 has been a lot of work because it’s a huge deviation from Fjord’s arc. We, the C2 audience, know that Vandran was a Revelry pirate and Avantika was his bosun, but she tried to kill Vandran when he began to waver. Vandran fled, sold one of the orbs on the mainland, and kept the other orb, which was then lost when the Tide’s Breath was sabotaged by Sabian. However, Fjord doesn’t know any of that now, Darktow is full of people who could know the people involved, recognize Fjord’s accent, or have misinformation. The deviation isn’t really significant in terms of how these events impact the main storyline, but it is significant because Fjord is in a completely different headspace for any of that to come to light. It will have rippling effects on his development throughout the rest of the fic.

The primary challenge has been pacing, almost as difficult as Chapter 1 was (which had a gradual acceleration to the climax with lots of calculated breaks in tension to avoid fatigue). This is a climactic moment for Fjord’s arc in a larger story, so I have had to rewrite and trim several scenes. The fic’s total word count as of the time that chapter 8 was posted was about 480,000. It’s now at about 525,000, and Chapter 9 is only 5,000 words longer. Thankfully, most of what had been cut was useable in a later chapter, hence the very strange reallocation of word count.

All that said, I am very pleased to say that Chapter 9 has improved a lot in all that time. It flows much better and focuses on what it needs to.

For funsies, here is an abridged section of a scene:

Card games weren’t interesting. There were only so many suits, hands, plays. The worst relied heavily on counting cards, leaving the result solely to skill and practice. Others relied on gimmicks like moving quickly or calling out their ploy first. Dull exercises for dull people, who weren’t all that uncommon in Darktow. But the players—that was the appeal that Sabian couldn’t ignore. Not half an hour ago, the skinniest goliath Sabian had ever seen joined the game. He’d spoken like a dullard, slow and vapid, but had a fat purse, so Sabian and the rest let him join with a silent accord to clean him out. They weren’t cruel about it, not in Darktow, where even the dumbest mark could lead to opportunity—so they resolved to bankrupt him properly, maybe even get some debt out of it. Favors were often viable currency in port anyway. Then the fucker took out two of the other players, leaving only Sabian, a fisherman, and the goliath, with a veritable wall of coin next to him. “You can’t con an honest man,” one of the sailors said in a huff as she retreated to the bar. Could the goliath have been an honest man? Maybe. He was a shit player, but he could read their bluffs and calls like he could see into their minds, and Sabian was beginning to suspect sorcery of some kind. It was a coin toss whether the goliath had a decent hand—he didn’t even seem to know when to draw—but he always knew when someone else thought they had a good hand. Knowing precisely when to call or fold had pissed off the rest enough that they craved the victory of beating his read more than staying in the black, which led to a ridiculous parade of bluffs and resulted in the current circumstance. Sabian had even gotten roped into it for a short while, given the challenge, but hells if he was going to lose to this moron. No, this game required the good, old-fashioned way of winning: palming cards when the goliath was distracted. That seemed to confuse him enough. After all, seeing an opponent go from thinking his hand was shit to decent and vice versa without drawing anything from the deck would undermine anyone’s confidence if the integrity of the other players wasn’t in question. “You can’t con an honest man,” my ass.

Hmmm. I wonder who that goliath could be…

[bi-ftm-on-main]

anxiety disorder? i hardly know her

Ok so I had bought this suction dildo ages ago but never really used it stuck to a surface, just for handheld stuff, cos theres not a lot of suctionable surfaces in my house and i have to wait for everyone to leave and its a whole thing. anyway.

I tried it out the other day in the shower at like hip height and just like folded over and leaned into it which worked better than any other position I've tried, effort and logistics wise, and was vibing like that for a while. my initial thoughts are as follows:

i had to use so much more lube than expected. like i knew dryness was a thing that happens when on T but i was quite surprised, i was adding (a tiny bit) more every couple of minutes id say

i really couldve gotten a bigger toy actually. its 7 inches atm but with my fat ass it kept falling out and it was kinda annoying

it was fine, pleasure wise. like not particularly mind blowing but still alright. like 7/10. definitely scratched an itch tho ya know

i really gotta be trimming my pubes more cos that shits not helping anyone

my boobs were in my face and i didnt appreciate it

and yeah i kept at it for a while just to see if i could cum from it alone, which i havent been able to do yet even when using it handheld. but like isn't that a thing, that most people cant cum from penetration alone? im fairly sure.

i have been trying to use the toy more tho cos one thing that im worried about for when i do eventually have sex is squirting.

on rare occasions i will squirt when i use showerhead to -- oh yeah thats another thing. i unironically refer to masturbating as 'beating my meat'. it started in high school and im sorry but it kinda seems like its here to stay. well up until the day i have to say it in conversation then ill dissolve and escape down a storm drain --

anyway, i was going at it and it was building but not really enough so i just was like ugh fine whatever and unstick it off the wall and started using it handheld + clit stuff -- t dick stuff? I personally dont have heaps of bottom dysphoria but i havent decided -- just so i could cum. it had been a while and my sex playlist was running out of hozier songs. yes im putting that information on the internet, sue me.

but like i was going at it two handed and it was working a treat and even after i came i kept going -- i was pushing myself because i wanted to see if i would squirt because i want to be prepared for this stuff -- and omg. bro omggggg.

measuring the time by songs id say that i came for, at minimum, three whole minutes.

like cos i was pushing myself so i just kept going with the two hand method and it just kept going and i kept going and it kept going and i had to change to one hand cos my fingers were tingling and it kept going. man.

i only stopped cos de selby part 2 was starting to wrap up -- no one look at me -- and i just layed there for a while longer just with my hands tingling and feeling light as air.

it made me think of that one twitter thread i think of that straight girl who got fucked by a lesbian and was all happy to go to work the next day even though she fucking hates her job. that was me bro.

i put my clothes back on and headed right back to the computer ive been sitting at for two days straight finishing assignments with a new lease on life. i was giddy mate. giddy. ugh

um yeah. moral of the story, i didnt squirt even after having my guts be pounded for like half an hour. thank you for cumming to my ted talk.

[hydrospanners]

somewhere we’ve not been before. After weeks of casual encounters and stolen moments, Doc and Rea finally go on a proper date. Or a date, anyway. Proper isn't really their style. SWTOR. F!Jedi Knight x Doc. Fluff with a dash of sin, only a little explicit. 4400 words. AO3. Also recommend listening to It’s Strange by Louis the Child if you are the sort to listen to music while reading. Shoutout to @meonlyred for beta services here.

He watches her from the door, leaning against the frame in that signature pose of his. Rea thinks there’s a smile hiding under that stupid mustache, but she doesn’t get a chance to look for it before she has to move.

  It’s a memory she’s fighting. A ghost with a lightsaber that hums in her mind as it passes through the place her head had just been. She sees the flash of red in her memory as she drops to one knee, rolling away from its reach. She remembers how the Sith stood behind her, how he raised his hand and she felt the rising crest of his power just a little too late.

  But this time she knows it’s coming. This time she turns, glances over her shoulder just in time to glimpse the lightning that sparks between his fingers. This time, she moves before it strikes her and she isn’t paralyzed by the electricity when he reaches for the detonator. This time, she twists, slides under the Sith’s guard in the blink of an eye. This time, she buries a saber in his spinal column before he can so much as move.

  She imagines the blink of shock, the way his jaw would slip open in surprise, how the power pulsing in his hand would fizzle. She imagines how it would feel to drive her other saber through his heart, to watch the light leave his eyes. How it would feel to watch the dark storm of him fizzle out into nothing. Into quiet.

  Rea trades her sabers for a towel and dabs at her sweat-slicked face. What’s done is done. Dwelling on it won’t bring back the dead.

  “You look awfully nice,” she says over the new scar on her shoulder.

  “Nice?” Doc huffs from the doorframe. “I think you mean ‘devastatingly handsome.’”

  Rea turns, raking her eyes over the lean lines of his body. With the way his suit is tailored, she’d say ‘devastatingly handsome’ is a serious undersell. He looks starsdamned delicious, the pearly gleam of his skin all the more striking against the wine-red fabric and crosh hide trim. The sleek silhouette is modern and elegant and he wears it naturally as anything, completely at home in the luxury of it.

  He couldn’t look more out of place on her ship if he tried. “Too handsome for the Renegade,” she agrees. “Hot date tonight?”

  He is definitely smiling under that stupid moustache. “Well, that depends,” he says.

  “Depends on what?” It’s not like he needs her permission to practice his charm on someone else. They don’t have that kind of a thing.

  “On how fast you can clean up, Gorgeous.”

# # #

Turns out Junior was right about her clothes. There’s nothing in Rea’s wardrobe but beat up combat suits, battered armor, and frayed leatheris jackets, all in shades of black and brown and grey. Makes him wish he’d gone for the little blue number instead of the shimmery silver one. Stars know she looks good in everything (and especially good in nothing) but she needs a little color in her life.

  “You know this is weird, right?” She shouts from the ‘fresher, where she’s cleaning and dressing faster than he’d imagined a person could. It’s a testament to Doc’s will that he’s firmly planted on her bed, even knowing she’s standing there in nothing but her underwear--and maybe not even that--with her skin glowing and fresh from the sonic. Warm and supple, soft as velvet...

  “It’s thoughtful,” he shouts back. “And charming.”

  “This dress is tailored, Doc. How do you even know my measurements?”

  “Hours of careful study.” Her laughter echoes against the close, metallic walls of the ‘fresher. “Not to rush you, Beautiful, but I did make a reservation. Had to bribe a guy and everything.”

  “Bribe?” Her head peeks out of the doorframe, blue eyes narrowed at him. “With whose credits?”

  For someone who burns through money like a fire through hyperdrive fuel, his Jedi can be pretty stingy. She won’t hesitate to lavish the droids in expensive upgrades or shower Red in those stealth field generators she’s always breaking, but when it comes to the little pleasures in life, Rea’s tighter than the Hutt cartel.

  “Why don’t you let ol’ Doc worry about that? Just for tonight.”

  Her gaze turns even sharper. “You holding out on me, Kimble?”

  She likes to remind him, now and again, that she knows his full name and isn’t afraid to use it. As if he could forget.

  “I would never. Now scoot, Gorgeous. We’ve got fifteen minutes before fashionably late is just late.”

# # #

She doesn’t miss how the waiter’s eyes linger on her date’s mouth. How they follow every stretch and quirk of Doc’s lips, how they caress the sharp line of his shoulders and revel in the elegant movement of his hands. From the shit-eating grin he shoots her as the kid stammers through the wine list, Rea guesses Doc hasn’t missed it either.

  Well. Two can play at that game.

  “I’m not much of a wine girl,” she laments, settling her elbows on the table and folding her arms beneath her breasts as she flutters her eyelashes up at their waiter. His wide eyes dutifully follow the plunging neckline of her gown to the swell of her cleavage, ghosting over the curve of her biceps too as he takes a gulp of air. “But I love to experiment with new things, and you seem like a man with experience. Do you have anything I might like?”

  His cheeks burn to an even darker scarlet and he tugs at the high collar of his uniform, trying desperately to redirect his gaze from her breasts to her eyes. It doesn’t seem to be working.

  “I, um--You, uh, might--Well--” Whatever tenuous grasp the kid had on his feelings evaporates as she leans forward, staring up at him like he’s the most interesting man in the world. His desire rushes out of him in waves, swallowing up everyone in his orbit. Rea can feel it taking root in her, spreading through her like warm honey in her veins. It makes it hard to keep her eyes on this adorable Zeltron kid instead of the man she really wants, but she always has loved a challenge.

  Rea crosses her legs to the side of the table, making sure the waiter gets a good view, and hums a sound of encouragement.

  “Why don’t you just surprise us?” Doc’s voice cuts through the haze, startling the kid out of his lusty stupor. Not that looking Doc’s way is any kind of improvement on the waiter’s predicament. From the look on his face, he’s as captivated by her date’s lazy grin as Rea is.

  She prefers it that way, she decides. A challenge is no fun if it’s too easy to win.

  The waiter stumbles through some kind of assent and leaves their table on unsteady legs. Rea watches him leave with keen eyes, digging deep with her own senses, beneath the attraction and the awe and the nerves, searching for any hint that their aggressive interest is making him actually uncomfortable. She doesn’t find anything but a hopeful, horny kid who can’t believe his own luck.

  When she turns back to Doc, he’s grinning at her with the most obvious delight. It’s the kind of look that would make a lesser woman go weak at the knees. The kind that leaves her fighting the urge to grab him by the lapels and devour him whole, right here in the middle of this swanky mobster restaurant.

  Instead, she gives him a knowing smile and shakes her head, toying with the rim of her water glass. “He’s a little young,” she tells him, just to be sure they’re on the same page. The kid is a year or two past twenty if she’s any judge, which is fine, but there’s something in his wide-eyed awe that leaves her feeling queasy. Like he wouldn’t be able to say no, even if he really wanted to.

  Nothing sexy about that.

  “Seems like he could use some confidence,” Doc agrees, his dark eyes boring into her. “I think we can probably help with that.”

  “Some of us more than others,” she grins, tossing her artfully tousled hair.

  “Wanna bet on that?”

  “You have to ask?”

# # #

The waiter leaves his number with the check. Doc knew which way this was gonna go by the third drink--the kid was so captivated by Rea’s neckline a Miraluka would’ve seen it--but that doesn’t make giving up his hard-earned credits any easier. Especially looking as good as he does tonight.

  He’d really thought he was getting somewhere with that thing about the kid’s smile, too.

  “Don’t take it too hard,” Rea consoles him, her grin only a little smug. “This dress of yours did most of the work.”

  The shimmering fabric of it shifts against her thighs as she stands, outlining every mouth-watering swell and curve of her. Doc indulges himself in a long, thorough look before conceding. “You may have had an unfair advantage.”

  It isn’t exactly comforting, knowing how little effort it took for her to win. Would it really have been so hard for the kid to give his holonet ID to both of the absurdly attractive people trying to seduce him? It’s what Doc would’ve done.

  Rea pats his arm, laughing. “You can wear it next time.”

  Despite the bruises on his ego, Doc finds himself grinning. “Next time,” he agrees. He isn’t sure she meant that as promise of another date (she didn’t and he knows it) but he decides it doesn’t matter. There’s this place on Coruscant he’s dying to show her, and forgiveness is more his style than permission anyway.

# # #

Doc can’t wait to see her face when he hands her the bottle.

  It’s almost too easy, lifting the keycard from the salesgirl’s pocket. Falling all over him like she is, running her hands over every part of him above the belt, pressing her whole body against his. Finding creative ways to display her extremely ample cleavage.

  She’s a pretty enough girl, another Zeltron like most of the Cartel’s front line, all wide eyes, perfect curls, and symmetry. Not as young as she wants him to think, with her fluttering lashes and manufactured blushes, but she has the sort of perfect, dewy skin to pull it off. And a voluptuous, exaggerated figure to distract anyone who isn’t convinced. Too exaggerated to be achieved without surgical assistance.

  But Doc isn’t buying what she’s selling. Not tonight.

  “I wonder if you accommodate private tastings?” He asks the girl in a whisper, rounding out the Huttese in his best Imperial drawl. “My Master has very particular taste, and I like to be quite—“ he pauses significantly, looking deep into her violet eyes “—thorough in my work. I like to focus and take my time. To really explore every note and flavor.”

  “Good wine is best when savored,” the salesgirl agrees, running her hand up the lapel of his suit. “I’m sure I can arrange something for you, Mr. Quinn.”

  “Doctor, actually. And thank you.”

  “A doctor? I do love a man who’s good with his hands.” She flutters her eyelashes at him again, and Doc’s surprised to find himself not at all enticed by the blush she wears so well. She plucks at his jacket playfully before she turns, throwing a sultry look over her shoulder as she crooks her finger at him. “Right this way, Doctor Quinn.”

  The cellar is empty, which makes the whole thing much easier. The salesgirl doesn’t ask for explanations when he drapes a towel over her eyes, tying it securely at the back of her head. She doesn’t try to stop him when he slips the very expensive bottle of champagne from her hands.

  She doesn’t notice he’s gone until the door hisses shut behind him.

  He locks her in with her own keycard. He doubts there’s any kind of emergency release or intercom inside the cellar—Hutts aren’t known for their concerns about employee safety—but Doc doesn’t wait to find out. After deactivating the security tag in the label, he ruffles his hair and undoes his shirt just enough to suggest he’d received some quality customer service. No one tries to stop him as he saunters out of the shop, one bottle of champagne and three juicy secrets richer.

# # #

It’s cold on the casino’s roof, the air thick and sharp, and the violent neon lights cast everything in a harsh, sickly glow. Everything except him, of course. It’s a testament to his beauty that even a Nar Shaddaa night looks good on him.

  “A bet’s a bet, Gorgeous.” Doc twists the cork from the champagne bottle with one practiced move. He swirls the bottle under his nose and gives a contented sigh. “Shame to drink this without proper glasses, though.”

  “Fizzy wine is fizzy wine,” she says. Rea’s always been more of a liquor girl.

  Doc just shakes his head. “Can’t believe I’m wasting this on someone who thinks ‘fizzy wine is fizzy wine’.” He sips at the bottle twice before passing it off.

  She’d refuse, let him have it to himself, except he went to all the trouble of stealing it. (It was considerably less trouble than she’d expected when she bet he couldn’t.)

  “Well?” He looks at her expectantly.

  “Sure is fizzy,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She passes the bottle back with a hearty burp. It’ll take more than a fancy dress to take the Corellia out of her.

  “Can’t figure out if I hate or love how you make every stupid thing you do seem so damn sexy.”

  “Right back at you, Handsome.” She shoots a particularly wounded look at that fucking mustache.

  He laughs, then sips again from the champagne, savoring the dry bitterness of it. “So you ready to pay up now?”

  “Deal’s a deal,” she says. “And we Corellians always pay our debts.”

  Doc snorts, because he’s known her long enough to know better by now. “How’s the shoulder?” He asks, glancing sideways at the shiny, still-pink scar.

  “You really want to waste a question finding out?”

  He grins. “Stingy, aren’t you?”

  “When it matters.”

  “Fine.” Doc turns his attention back to the neon cityscape around them. It’s loud and bright and smells like shit, but he seems to relish it as much as she does. “You keep saying how you weren’t always a Jedi, but you never say what you did before. Time to fess up, Beautiful.”

  “I was a smuggler,” Rea admits easily, the old aches so faint she hardly even feels them. “Well, a kid who played smuggler really. My aunt and her crew did the real work. I mostly watched the door, but they let me feel like it was important.”

  Doc raises a brow. “Hard to imagine you just watching a door. Even as a kid.”

  “Yeah.” Rea smiles. “I wasn’t a very good smuggler.”

  “That why you took a vow of celibacy?”

  “Nah. The Jedi thing was Rhese’s idea.” She glances at him. “And that’s two. Better choose your third question wisely.”

  Doc grins at her, his eyes sweeping slow and hungry from her head to her toes. She thinks again how entirely unfair it is that neon looks so damn good playing across his pearly skin. Even the fucking mustache looks good in the Nar Shaddaa lights. She buries her hands beneath her thighs and wonders how he expects her to behave when he’s sitting so close, looking like that? She wonders whether he made time in all his plans for the thing she’s been dying to do since she first laid eyes on him in that suit.

  “All right, Gorgeous. Last question.” His voice drops to that low timber she likes best, warm and smooth and rich as honey. “What’re you wearing under that dress?”

  It’s like he can read her starsdamned mind. Rea grins madly, too thrilled to be sultry, and leans forward just so, letting the thin strap of her gown slip from her shoulder. “Be easier to show than tell,” she purrs.

  Behaving is overrated anyway.

# # #

One of the perks of luxury speeders is the spacious, plush seating. It’s probably the most comfortable place they’ve ever fucked, and definitely the best-smelling. It also has the perk of being their transportation for the night, so Rea can’t run off on him as soon as she’s got what she came for.

  “You know the city pretty well for a delicate Core flower,” she says, once their breathing evens out. He’s learning that she doesn’t care much for silence, his Jedi.

  “Lived here for a bit after med school. Did your dossiers not tell you?”

  “You’re really holding onto that, aren’t you?”

  “What can I say? I like for things to happen organically. Anything you wanna know, Ol’ Doc will tell you. No need to root around in my extranet history.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groans. “It’s just standard procedure. I do the same thing to anyone who sets foot on my ship. I did the same thing to my own fucking brother. Of course I checked up on you! I barely knew you, and you’re clearly too charming to be trusted.”

  “Ouch, Gorgeous.”

  She rolls on her side to look him in the eyes, every warm, naked inch of her pressed firmly against every warm, naked inch of him. She doesn’t share his respect for their circumstances and is very serious when she says, “I’m in the middle of some fate-of-the-whole-Republic shit right now, Kimble. If you’re waiting on me to apologize for vetting you, you’ll be waiting a long fucking time.”

  “Noted,” he says, running a hand over the curve of her hip. She’s still damp with sweat and damn near glowing in the cabin lights. He trails his fingers down her thigh as he drinks her in. Doc is a man who knows his priorities, and tonight, this is his only concern. He’s not about to risk another conversation about all that weight she’s carrying around on her masterfully sculpted shoulders. Not tonight. “Now let’s go back to the part about my irresistible charm.”

  “Irresistible?” Rea laughs. “I never said anything about irresistible.”

  Doc slides his hand around to the inside of her thigh, stroking his way up the expanse of warm, velvety skin. “You’ll be saying it soon, Beautiful.”

  Priorities.

# # #

When she pictures Doc’s life before her, before Balmorra and the war, she pictures lots of clean lines and open spaces. Neutral colors, organic wood. Sullust leather and polished stone. Plenty of sumptuous throws and a few exotic trinkets with exotic stories to match. She pictured luxury and comfort. Warmth. Indulgence. Charm.

  His place on Nar Shaddaa is nothing like Rea pictured.

  “I can’t even imagine you here,” she admits, looking around his old bolthole, slack-jawed and shocked. It’s a cramped little place, dated and dirty, thick with the kind of grime that can only be cleansed by fire. Exactly the sort of place she would choose for herself, the sort of place she grew up in. The sort of place she always pictured him being repulsed by.

  But it is undeniably his space. What can be cleaned is clean, and what few belongings he dared to leave here, unattended, are neat and well-ordered. A place for everything and everything in its place, just like on the Renegade.

  Doc leans against the doorframe in that way again, arms crossed and bemused. “I guess there’s more to ol’ Doc than your dossiers can tell you, Gorgeous.”

  She feels a roiling in her belly, a little spark of fear, shying away from the unknown. And somewhere in the back of her mind, Rea hears the old familiar refrain, in a voice that sounds more hers than Ranna’s with every passing day. Everyone will betray you if you give them the chance. The words are hardly more than a whisper, and when the pleasant rush of good food and good sex and shameless, uninhibited fun threatens to drown it out entirely, she decides to let it.

  Whatever he’s hiding, whatever depths Teeseven’s intel didn’t manage to reach, Rea finds she’s willing to gamble on him. Archiban Frodrick Kimble may be a lying sneak, but he’s her lying sneak.

  “I can’t have you hiding things from me, Kimble,” she frowns, shooting for serious and missing the mark by lightyears. She leans back against the cheap, blocky sofa, drumming her fingers against the rough upholstery. “You’ve forced my hand. For the safety of the galaxy, I’m gonna have to investigate you. Thoroughly.”

  Doc raises his hands in an open-palmed gesture of surrender that somehow doesn’t look quite as supplicating as it should with the way he’s smirking. “You can investigate me for as long and as often as you want, Gorgeous.”

  “In that case, Doctor, drop your pants.”

# # #

He rolls his wrist, turning another of her bones to jelly and Rea can’t believe she went this long without knowing he could do this.

  “Don’t tell me they teach this in medical school.”

  “Well, I was in medical school when I learned it,” Doc says, and she can hear his smile even if she can’t see it right now. “Met this Falleen at a benefit. They could do things with their hands that you wouldn’t believe.”

  Rea sighs as his palm kneads at the tightly coiled muscle in her shoulder, the oil on her skin warming under his touch. “Falleen are so sexy.”

  “You say that about everyone.”

  “Just stating facts, Archiban. I can’t help facts.”

  He laughs, and she wishes she could see the way it makes his face glow, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. She can’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed, so weightless and warm. So… content.

  His thumbs dig into the muscles along her spine, and Rea damn near purrs.

  With the things he’s doing to her body, she doesn’t think she can be blamed when she asks for a happy ending.

  # # #

  “In a walker?”

  Rea takes another swig from the bottle.

  “In a prison cell?”

  She drinks again.

  “At a funeral?”

  “Does it count if I wasn’t attending the funeral? I was just spying on it from the room next door.”

  Doc lifts his brow. “It counts, but I have questions.”

  She shrugs. “I’m a good multi-tasker.”

  “What about in zero g?”

  Rea just smiles, raising the bottle to him before tipping it back and draining the rest of the whiskey. He watches the movement of her throat as she swallows. Lets his eyes linger on her lips, wrapped around the mouth of the bottle.

  Damn.

  “How does that even work?” He asks, ignoring how the words get a little stuck in his throat.

  “I could show you.” She gives him one of his favorite grins, all wickedness and light. “But it would probably just make you sick. Some things you really do need the Force to appreciate.”

  “You been with a lot of other Jedi, then?” He isn’t exactly an expert, but Doc’s met enough of her coworkers to know the Order’s reputation for celibacy is pretty well-earned. Rea is exceptional in that way. In a lot of ways.

  “A few. Mostly when I was younger. Been with a couple of Sith too.” She shrugs. “It’s like I said. Everyone is sexy. It really can’t be helped.”

  Doc finds it hard to argue with that, even if he’s been too preoccupied with sharp blue eyes and sculpted muscles to look anywhere else lately. He wonders if she’s had the same problem, but he isn’t sure if he really wants the answer. He can’t decide what answer he wants to hear.

  A beam of light passes overhead before he can settle on anything, and Rea is suddenly climbing over him, tearing the out the belly of the control panel with her bare hands. His mouth goes a little dry as he watches her ripping at the wires, ignoring the sparks as she snaps and ties and rearranges. So clever and deft and sure.

  The engine hums to life just as the doors swish open. Someone shouts in gutteral Huttese—“There they are!”—and Ejesh’s guards start to pour into the darkened garage, all of them gleaming in garish gold armor and pointing their blaster rifles right at the speeder they’re apparently stealing.

  Rea’s fingers wrap around the throttle, her expression pure focus, eyes alight with exhilaration, and Doc is too captivated with the sight to even notice the world falling away around them. They explode out of the garage and into open air, flipping nose to tail before gliding easily into traffic.

  She is magnificent in that moment, hair whipping wildly in the wind, skin damn near glowing in the neon lights, laughing over the hum of the engine and the distant echo of blaster fire. Doc finds himself laughing with her, his heart hammering erratically as they speed into the night. As she turns that heart-stopping smile on him.

  “Where to, Handsome?”

  # # #

She lingers over him, foreheads pressed together, her hands fisted in the sheets by his head. He is panting beneath her, caressing her hips and waist and thighs, stroking her lightly where they are still joined. Bringing her down slowly, drawing out her pleasure as much as he can.

  This is the fourth time she’s had him today, and she can’t help thinking how different it is.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, breathless.

  “Yeah,” Rea agrees. Smiles. “Fuck.”

  She’s still quivering as she rises off of him, collapsing boneless against the sheets. His hands follow her, fingertips brushing featherlight along her clavicle, along the delicate underside of her arm. The touch is electric to her still-sensitive skin, stoking the heat inside her.

  “You, uh—“ Archiban says, still gasping for breath between words. “You need—Can I—More?”

  “No.” She brings his hand to her lips, kissing the back of it. Her body is still reaching, still warm and slick and incandescent. She could. She could rise and rise and rise again. He would lift her up as many times as she liked, even if he couldn’t join her at the peak.

  But Rea finds she doesn’t want to tumble over that edge if he isn’t falling with her. Not tonight. Not after the extraordinary thing that just happened between them. Something slow, something savoring and deliberate. Electrifying. Intense.

  Beautiful.

  Rea can’t remember the last time she felt the stars burning inside her.

  She lets herself relax into the comfort of her bed, into the warm body tucked around her, and the cool scratchy sheets beneath her. Sheets he hates, but apparently not enough to keep him away. “Hell of a date you planned, Kimble.”

  She tilts her head to find him grinning down at her, looking smug despite the flush to his cheeks. “I know.”

  “You sure can show a Jedi a good time.”

  “I’d say that I tried, but we both know it just comes naturally.”

  “But only four times,” she adds, grinning back and nudging him with her hip.

  He rolls his eyes. “If you want mo--”

  “I got everything I wanted,” she is quick to cut him off, her tone a touch more serious than she planned. “It was good, Archiban. Extraordinary. Better than I have the words to describe.”

  He bypasses the perfect opening to tease her about her limited vocabulary and brings their joined hands to his lips instead, pressing delicate little kisses to her knuckles as he holds her gaze. It’s the kind of tenderness she ordinarily finds suffocating but--Well, she’s not a droid, is she? And it’s been so long since anyone handled her with gentleness.

  Rea swallows down a sudden surge of emotion, turning her head so he can’t bore into her with those dark eyes. “So why’d you bring me back here of all places? I figured you booked some kinda fantasy suite, some place with chocolates on the pillows and vibrating beds.”

  Archiban laughs. “That’s a great idea for when you take me on a date,” he says, sounding very certain of that happening, “but tonight was for you, Gorgeous. And you aren’t gonna enjoy yourself if you’re checking under the bed for mines.”

  And she realizes for the first time that she is relaxed. That every muscle in her body feels like warm molasses and she hasn’t glanced at the door once. Hasn’t itched for her lightsaber or jumped at an out-of-place noise. That somewhere along the way, she stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Fuck,” she says, waiting wide-eyed for a spike of panic. For the walls to start closing in, for the heat between their bodies to turn unbearable. For the tension to creep up her spine and the escape routes to start mapping themselves in her mind.

  But it doesn’t happen. Instead Rea lays there, half-curled around him and half-sprawled on top of him, their hearts beating in time, and feels nothing but comfort and pleasure and happiness. Honest to stars happiness.

  Archiban Kimble, she is finding, is much more dangerous than she ever guessed. And the thing about Rea?

  She can’t help chasing danger.

[passionatelyfanfic]

Hi can I request a reaction to you telling them "Meet me in the bedroom."

Thank you for this request anon x

This took me so long to do, it was so hard thinking of different scenarios or reasons for someone to follow you into the bedroom. I am sorry if it is bad, I tried lol

BTS Reaction To You Telling Them, "Meet Me In The Bedroom/ Studio"

Seokjin/ Jin

This man cooked for you all the time, but for some reason, when you sat and watched him busy in the kitchen from the living room, as you spoke with friends, watching your doting husband slaving away (you wouldn't call it that, he insisted on it, he loved all the praise you gave him after), it just made you so thankful to have someone like him in your life. All your friends always said, how lucky you were to have such a handsome man who also happened to be an excellent cook. You were such a lucky woman. He loved teasing you, saying that maybe you had a food fetish, because he would always catch you looking at him. You would tease back and say that he was your fetish.

Your friends had left and he was now relaxing in the living room as you washed the few dirty dishes that were left in the sink. Once you were done, you made your way to the living room. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you began to massage him. He placed his hand on top of yours, as he kissed your wrist and then laid his head slightly back.

"Thank you for today Jinnie."

"Hmm, you are welcome princess, was the food okay?"

"Oh, you know it is always lovely, didn't you hear the girls, they couldn't stop complimenting you baby."

"You know, at the end of the day there is only one person that I want to compliment me."

"Who is that?" You smiled.

He leaned his head back, pouting and looking at you. You bent down and kissed his lips, letting go of his shoulders, him letting out a little sigh at the loss of contact from you.

You placed your hands on his knees, moving them apart, kneeling between his legs. "Do you want me to compliment you?"

"Baby, you know I would like that very much."

Lifting his t-shirt to expose his belly button, you place a soft kiss there and then on his crotch. "Why don't you follow me to the bedroom?"

Getting up from the couch and then lifting you up, "How about I take you there?"

Yoongi/ Agust D/ Suga

All you really wanted was his touch, but of course for the past couple of days, he was busy in his studio, well the room you guys converted into one, so he could work from home as well. For these past few days, the only thing you have been getting from him is a kiss to say goodnight, good morning and when you took him some coffee or something to eat. Your period was going to start soon and honestly you just needed him. You decided to take a warm shower, shave your legs, trim yourself down there. You let your hair down from the bun it was in. You put on one of his favourite scents and applied lotion to your body so you were nice and soft. Deciding what to wear was easy, he loved you naked. You put on a satin robe that hit the floor. Loosely tying it, you made your way to his studio. Slowly turning the door handle, letting yourself in.

His head still in his screen, "Jagi, I didn't need anything, I just made myself some coffee. Thank you."

"Yoongi."

"Yeah," as he turned himself around on his chair. "Oh."

Putting his hand out for you, you take a step forward.

He smiles, as he grabs your robe belt and unties it, allowing your robe to open for him. He does not touch you, instead biting his lip as he looks your body up and down, admiring your perky nipples, the little lump that forms your tummy, the 'fat' that you always complain about, the tiny stretch marks along your hips and thighs that he likes to kiss and your pretty pussy, he notices that you've trimmed your hair, he's basically checking you out.

You place your hand in his hair, slightly pulling his head back, he lets out a soft groan.

"Kitten, come-"

Stepping back a little, "Fuck no Yoongi! You have barely touched me this week, save that, switch it off. I want you to fuck me properly." Walking towards the door, you look back saying, "Meet me in the bedroom... Now!"

Grinning from ear to ear he is already stumbling off his chair, following you.

Hoseok/ Jhope/ Hobi

You love watching him dance, watching him dance is truly something else. No wonder he is one of the best in the industry. When dancing, he truly turns into the dance teacher, mistakes are not an excuse, but only a chance to do better in his eyes. You watch the trainees as they watch your husband, taking in everything he does and says, trying their best to keep up with him and stay on beat. He looks so glorious, there is this certain aura that he exudes when he takes control, here, on stage and in the bedroom, this sexiness, the need to please him and do whatever he asks of you. If it was just you and him in here, there would be no reason for you to hold back your urge of tackling him right now.

"Great guys! Let's take five." Him already making his way towards you. "Hey you," he smiles.

"Hey handsome, you thirsty?" You hand him a bottle of water. Even watching him drink water from the bottle is turning you on. Sweat trickling from his forehead, you take a cool towel and dab it away.

"Ahh thank you angel, I am almost done, I promise." As he gently gives your butt a little smack. No one really noticing as they are all still trying to catch their breath.

"Hmmm," You hum in response.

"You think I should give them a break and finish up early?"

"I mean that would be nice, they look exhausted right now, I watched and I think so far they are doing pretty good you know? You really are an amazing teacher Hobi."

Blushing, "Ahh thank you Jagi," kissing you on the cheek.

"Baby you should really stop that, all this affection plus you looking like this, you know what it does to me."

"What does it do to you Mrs. Jung?" He whispers as you get closer to him.

You slide your hand over his crotch, "Why don't you meet me in your studio now and I'll show you, Mr. Jung?" Giving him an innocent kiss to the lips and squeezing his crotch. You then make your way to the door, waving, "Bye guys, I think you all did wonderfully today!"

He claps his hands, "Alright guys, let's wrap it up for today, I'll see you all tomorrow same time as today." Following behind you.

Namjoon/ RM

It didn't take much for you two to be all over each other. Anything, it didn't have to be sexual at first. You two could be playing a game, the next moment, either you or he would be on top of the next, staring longingly into each others eyes, wanting to devour the other. Today was no different. You were laying on the floor with a cushion propped under your head, him on the couch, his head against the arm rest. The both of you were reading your favourite books. You looked up at him, only to find that he was already staring at you, with a smile on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing big head, read your book and stop checking me out."

"Oh, my gosh Joon, I was not checking you out, I could feel your eyeballs on me."

"Eye... Balls." Giggling at his own stupid joke.

"You're hanging around your hyung too much."

"Hmm." Sounding almost content.

Then it started, the both of you giving each other glances, and grinning. The both of you losing interest in the books. He tosses his book to the side as he sits up on the couch.

"Y/N, why don't you come sit on my lap and kiss me?"

You don't answer, you look over to him and begin to get up from the floor. He thinks you are coming over to him, but instead start to make your way out of the living room.

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" Worry in his voice as he gets up from the couch.

You turn around, with a soft smile and give him your hand. "No. Follow me to the bedroom."

Ignoring your hand, he instead grabs you by the waist and picks you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist, what sounds like a sigh of relief, he kisses your neck and then makes his way to the bedroom, you still in his arms.

Jimin

He was away on a trip for work. Today he was going to be returning back home. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through his hair tonight, he was growing it out for you because you were curious about how he would look. You can confirm that this new hairstyle does things to you, sexual things. You two had been sexting each other throughout, both of you excited for his return. Obviously with him and you, things are always flirty; this is what attracted you to one another, you two have this attraction and connection that neither of you have felt with anyone else. Even after 5 years together, things always seem to feel like the very first meeting or the very first touch.

BabyBoy: What are you doing now?

MyQueen: Why are you so curious?

BabyBoy: You know what I'm going to do to you if you don't tell me baby.

MyQueen: Oh? No... I don't actually?

BabyBoy: Should I remind you? I'm 20 minutes away.

MyQueen: I think it involves, rings, fingers and maybe a tongue? I'm so wet right now, maybe I should just use that toy I bought online the other day, what do you think?

BabyBoy: You know me so well. Baby, don't you dare touch yourself. Show me how wet you are.

MyQueen: No, why don't you hurry over so you can see for yourself.

BabyBoy: Baby, don't you dare touch yourself!!!

MyQueen: Maybe you should hurry. I love you.

BabyBoy: I'm going to make you moan tonight. Be there in 5. I love you.

Taehyung/ V

You two have been recently trying for a baby. The both of you have wanted kids forever, but you both wanted to be responsible enough before you brought another little life into the world. He was busy sitting on the floor, Yeontan, running around him and the little toddler, the little toddler was Hyungsik's daughter. He and his wife had asked you two to look after her while they went shopping for her birthday presents. She was beautiful. Having her around even just for a short time confirmed that a child was really what the both of you wanted.

You two were laying on the couch watching one of Rachel McAdams' movies. You were laying against his chest as he played with your hair.

"What are you thinking about?"

Looking up at him, "Hmm? What?"

"I can see you've lost interest in the movie, what's on your mind sweetheart?"

"I'm just thinking about that little pumpkin that was here earlier."

"She was lovely wasn't she?"

"Oh, she was perfect Tae, seeing you with her. It made me so emotional. You're going to be the perfect father."

He leans down to give you a light kiss, "You really think so?"

"Of course."

Placing his hand on your belly and then rubbing it, "There's one thing I'm going to miss though."

"What's that?" Looking up at him again.

"Calling you mommy."

"How? But you can still call me that?"

"I don't mean like that, I mean when we do it." He emphasizes the do.

You get up giggling and smacking him on shoulder, "You're such a pervert, here we were having a moment and that's on your mind."

"Ouch... Babe, that hurts." He pouts acting as if you've hurt him.

"Do you want to call mommy now? Hmm baby?" You stand up, giving him your hand, "Come with me to the bedroom."

He springs up, his pout turning into a boxy grin, he grabs a hold of your hand, pulling you into the direction of the bedroom. "Let's go mommy," breaking into a loud laugh as you stick your tongue out at him.

Jungkook

He is completely oblivious to anything that is happening right now. You have been watching him playing his video games for the past three hours. You wondering how does he manage to stare at a screen for so damn long, making some of the most funniest facial expressions when he is about go in for a kill, or when he is about to be killed. Cursing under his breath when he doesn't see the zombie guy on the right of the screen. The two of you were suppose to go out and get dinner, but the way he is carrying on, you might have to order in. Not that you are complaining, you are not the type that always wants to go out to expensive places, he just insists on it because he feels bad when he is away on business.

You need to ask him whether he still wants to go out or whether you should just order something. But to get this man's attention is another story.

"Kook?... Kookie."

You decide to go and stand in front of him. You are wearing a pair of leggings, that make your ass look really good and a thin strappy top, not something that would be considered overly sexy but something you know he loves you in. Instead of standing in front of him though, you pretend to look for something near the tv. Bending so that your butt is next to the tv. The game instantly goes silent. Realising this, you begin to make sounds as you look around, him been able to see your ass, in every angle.

"Oh, Jungkook, don't mind me, I'm just looking for my phone, I want to order something for us to eat."

He doesn't answer, but you hear the shift in the couch, he is making his way to you. He places his hands on your waist as you stand up against him, turning you around. "Aren't we going out for dinner baby?"

"Hmm." You place your hand on his cheek and he leans into it, "How about we order something to eat instead and you follow me to the bedroom?"

He leans forward, pressing the tv switch off, and then places a kiss on your forehead, "Deal, let's go now." Him lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder, his hand placed securely on your butt as the two of you giggle as he makes his way to your bedroom.

[elysianslove]

Those dick analysis are so good!!!! Idk why i just keep reading them Abufbsudjwjdj my i please ask for the setter ones? If its not trouble, of course!

honestly they’re so much more fun than i thought they’d be??? i wanted to do it cause,,, horny thoughts, but then it ended up actually being enjoyable hbsjdd but im so so happy you like them!!! and yes yes of course <3 

just to clarify as i always do, this is hella unrealistic and just for fun!! 

other versions: haikyuu captains dick analysis, haikyuu aces dick analysis, haikyuu middle blockers dick analysis, jjk dick analysis. 

setters done in the captains version: oikawa tōru

HAIKYUU SETTERS DICK ANALYSIS

kageyama tobio 

listen, i know he has a skinny penis. something about him just screams skinny penis, but it’s so so so pretty. also it’s not like unsatisfying skinny cause it still has a little girth to it but it’s not painful girth you know? he’s like 6.8 inches? idk that seems right i guess? pale shaft that has a little flush of color to it, and a pink pink pink tip, but it’s like such a pretty, pretty tip, kind of mouthwatering tbh. curves to the right absolutely it does.  also he is so sensitive, like everywhere. literally just hover your fingers lightly along his dick and you’ll have him twitching and all. he’s not clean shaven because he never really understood the purpose, like the hair’s there for a reason for sure?? it must be?? but if you ask him he’ll be like “ok.” 

kozume kenma

i can’t decide if kenma would have a little dick or not, so i’m gonna settle for he’s a 5.6 inches. thing is kenma knows!!! how!!! to use it!!! like in a way that he’s kind of winging it, but he’s very perceptive so he just goes with what he sees you like the most. also teases so so much before, so that when he fucks you it feels really good!! shaft is a light tan with a golden tip, and very veiny too?? also kenma’s actually clean shaven— he probably waxes pls, just cause it’s so much more convenient and shaving always itches :( idk i feel like he might forget to take care of himself so he does it just so he doesn’t have to worry about it yk 

akaashi keiji 

god. god. god. such a pretty dick, like you could just stare at it all day. dick pics need to be framed in gold. he’s probably 6.8 inches like kags, with the prettiest pink tip like it’s so flushed but it’s not red and it’s not a pale pink either like just a deep deep pink, and a pale shaft, really prominent veins when he’s hard. his balls are pretty too pls :( and he’s clean shaven, for sureee. akaashi would do the most to make sure you’re satisfied and happy. when it’s hard it curves against his stomach like inward but only a little, maybe at the head yk? is really into foreplay and prepping you for him so by the time he fucks you his dick is drooling for you, and it’s the most gorgeous sight ever seeing it twitch and leak ugh <3 

miya atsumu 

big dick and KNOWS it. flaunts it. is the type to wave it in your face while in the shower with you just cause. a golden tan to the shaft, darker tip with a slight pink/red flush to it, hella veins, hella girth, hella length. he’s a good 7.1 inches i’m not gonna lie. (osamu’s bigger by .3 inches and rubs it in atsumu’s face all the fucking time btw). he. he is not clean shaven. will make you trim it for him if you really want it clean. (but only to piss you off, he will do it anyways <3). also his dick print is. gorgeous. in sweats? immaculate. gym shorts? beautiful. those red plaid pajama pants that give everyone a fat ass? dick print is stunning. IN TIGHT ASS BRIEFS AND ITS LEAKING A LITTLE? im crying. 

sugawara kōshi 

omg it’s !!!! he’s so good with it. so good. loves to tap it against all your sensitive spots like your clit after being abused by his mouth and fingers? or your hole after he stretches you? 6.5 inches, sort of proportionate in terms of length and girth, but idk. suga seems like he has a fat dick for some reason? like it’s not shocking girth, but it’s definitely a stretch. idk i can just picture his bulge in jeans or tight pants to be very prominent i guess? or like. idk i can just tell he’s hiding a fat dick in his shorts does that make sense. also a very pretty tip, a pale-ish pink with a shaft that kind of starts off very pink and then pales towards the base. clean shaven!!!!!! obviously. 

semi eita

such a nice dick you’d wanna just cockwarm it. but with your mouth. yk. or anything else really. it just feels so satisfying inside of you!! i can’t decide on a length (these are all hella unrealistic anyways) but maybe 6.9 inches. he just seems like he has a long dick!!! more length than girth you know? you know. purple-ish head and pale shaft, sticks up straight with no curves, and not a lotta veins!! there is one or two that are obvious, but it’s delicate yk. also i have the feeling semi likes it messy so he’s obsessed with deepthroating you and pulling out and having his dick covered in a mess of cum and bubbling spit. i will not be taking criticisms thank you <3 

koganegawa kanji 

oh my god he so has a big dick and literally has zero clue. no concept of size whatsoever. first time you see it and you gasp and he’s like uh oh what’s wrong like he’s not fucking packing as shit??? 6.9 inches with so much fucking girth. not so much that you have to spend forever prepping yourself, but like, it’s definitely a long time. first time you had sex he put it in too soon and you were like pls i beg you and your stupid big dick— fat, fat tan head, a lighter shaft with a golden tint to it. head flushes pink when he’s hard and leaking!!! he’s so messy with the hair down there cause he thought it was cooler but when he learned it wasn’t he was so quick to shave it all off yk :) 

ukai keishin 

couldn’t skip him!!! big dick big dick big dick. he has a big dick. look at him and tell me he doesn’t. it has a tan shaft, very similar to his overall skin tone, and a pinker tip, which darkens considerably when he’s hard. curves to the right and is so veiny!!! so fat, shaft is fat, head is fat, just so fat. he’s a good 7.4 inches, because why not you know, and always hits it from the back to have his balls slap against you. i— he’s not clean shaven what are you expecting. he’s not gonna shave. will actually make you choke on his dick and bury your face in his lap unashamed. (no but to be honest he would trim it for you, at the very least, not to worry <3) 

i tried not to miss out on any setters too!! i looked through the schools and if i did miss any, it just means i don’t know them well enough to write for them, i’m sorry!!! but i hope you guys enjoyed !!! im sorry if it’s a messy or something im writing this with an oncoming migraine </3 

luv u all mwah <3 

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. 😏

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

[kingkatsuki]

Jo baby do you like Iida at all bc I'm so fucking horny for big huge beefy dilf Iida that's still a virgin bc he doesn't get dates and his stupidly big fat cawk gets so sensitive when you grind on him and bite his neck chebdhebxhebdhb

I ain’t ever lewded Iida in my life but let’s give it a go for you~

Even pushing forty, Ingenium is still very much the poised, professional Pro-Hero. Dutifully looking after the city and it’s citizens he has sworn to protect. Iida’s spent so much of his life thinking about others he’s had little to no time to think about himself.

Iida hadn’t even thought about stress relief until his mid-twenties, pushing those horny urges to the side as he built up the mentality to ignore them until one evening he brushed against his hard, thick cock in the shower and ended up fucking his fist frantically as he shot hot spurts of cum across the cool tile. Almost feeling like a weight had been lifted as he felt his stress slowly begin to seep from his tense muscles. Soon those self-care shower sessions became a part of his weekly routine.

It had been enough, and it helped but Iida, beginning to round out as grey hairs littered the stubble on his chin, needed more.

Watching his brother and his friends settle down and marry the loves of their lives has a subtle ache forming in his chest as he imagines just what it would feel like to have someone looking after him for once.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried before, taking many potential partners out on dates to try and form those bonds early into his career— but it’s not always easy when you live the life of a top hero.

Nothing was easy that is, until you came along. What a sweet, young thing wanted to do with him he would never know. He felt so rough around the edges compared to your soft curves. Standing in a sea full of people you only had eyes for him, and there was no way he could control the throbbing between his thighs as he listened to you gush about him. Deku, Dynamight, even Red Riot were some of the most devoured heroes, it wasn’t often he would get praise from his fans when they were in the same room together— not to mention the fact that you were gorgeous to boot.

His hands respectfully on your hips as you ground yourself on one of his thick, meaty thighs. His inhibitions all but gone as he walked you back to your place, ever the gentleman as he waited by the door to wave you off. Not expecting you to invite him inside, a gasp leaving his lips as you straddled him on your couch. Feeling the sheer heat radiating against him from between your thighs as you began to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against his neck. His hands respectfully on your hips until your smaller ones moved to push his wrists downwards so he was groping your ass. Actions becoming bolder as he massaged the plush cheeks, using it as leverage as he began to grind your body against his cock. A sinful whine leaving his lips as he felt his balls tighten, this felt so much better than his fist and you weren’t even touching him, not really—

Iida’s mind instantly straying to how it would feel to have your smaller hands wrapped around his cock, or your mouth— the sensation becoming too overwhelming as he felt himself succumb to the pleasure.

“Feels so good, you feel so good Ingenium.” Hearing his Hero name leaving your lips with such praise had him moaning. Hips rutting off the couch as he ground himself against you, creaming his pants as you continued rolling your hips above him.

He’d expected you to be as embarrassed as he was, a 40-year-old Virgin pro-hero who just came in his pants untouched because of you. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to drop down onto your knees between his thick thighs and pull down his pants and boxers with one tug. Revealing his semi-hard cock glistening with the creamy essence of his release. The moisture clinging to the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock and darkening his boxers, the sight alone making you moan as you leaned forward to swipe your tongue along his twitching cock. Collecting his cum on your tongue as you leaned back to show him, an innocent glint in your eyes as you closed your mouth to swallow. Already feeling himself growing back to full mast from the sight as he found himself wanting more, needing more. You were like a drug and he was completely addicted—

He spent his entire life being good, focusing on saving people. Helping people— He wants someone to take care of, he wants to break someone.

He wants to break you.