#or maybe not even smut

[rafyki]

Finished reread SoN and my immediate reaction is that I need to write some future percico smut

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[kouibin]

me when im looking for a fic but all im getting is pure smut

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[nomazee]

close to your heart and that bed of yours too

you've been having the same weird dream about dan heng, over and over, and it just so happens that he's had the same dream, too.

dan heng x gn reader — 2.4k — super suggestive content but definitely nothing serious or graphic, some guilt abt attraction, dreams, romantic fantasies but not weird ones, kissing and closeness and physical touch, literal sleeping together

notes: forgive me and my debaucherous writing... this is nowhere near smut but it's definitely suggestive they get touchy and feely but it's very emotions-focused...oh my god what did i write this is so

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

It’s probably not possible to get cabin fever on a constantly-running space train, but that’s the only reasonable explanation for the weird, weird recurring dream you’ve been having about Dan Heng. It’s not— not that weird, not weird enough that you feel like a complete deviant, but enough for you to realize that it’s a complete reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires, and that scares you more than anything. 

The dream— it goes like this: 

You wake up—not in real life, but in the dream world, which freaked you out the first time because you didn't realize you were dreaming at all so you thought everything was entirely real—and it’s usually because of the noise of your door sliding open. The instinct to look and see who it is doesn’t hit you. You lay there, gaze fixed distantly on the steel surface of your ceiling until the feeling of your bedsheets moving next to you pushes you to full awareness. 

You still don’t move your gaze until you feel a body—warm, breathing, real real real?—lift up your blankets and slide underneath them, pressing next to you, curling into your side as if seeking out your life source. Your breath catches in your throat every single time as you turn to see that it’s Dan Heng, still dressed in his work clothes because he doesn’t understand the concept of pajamas, and his arm reaches around you and curls around your shoulder and he rests his head on your collarbone, gently, and you can feel his breath fan against the fabric of your shirt and your skin. 

Dan Heng says your name with reverence, with something like desire, and it makes your stomach clench and he turns his body into you more. He tucks his leg between yours—not moving, just sitting there, a reminder of him, his warmth—and he’s so, so warm, it amazes you that he’s like a furnace, and that he’s so unbothered by laying so close to you under all of your blankets. 

And he says your name again, each and every time, and it spurs something in you and you bring your arms around him each and every time, and pull him close, and feel the way he shudders, like a cold breeze wracking his body, like he’s never been this close to anyone before, and it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t—and that thought alone spirals into the realization that Dan Heng would never do this—

And then you wake up. Each time. 

The first time it happened, you didn't realize it was a dream, and you were so overwhelmed with thought after thought and feeling after feeling and sensation after sensation. When you finally woke up, it felt like you were grieving a loss. You felt too cold, and too empty, and curled into yourself and laid in your bed for an hour taking in shaky breaths until you finally got over yourself. 

You couldn't face Dan Heng for that entire day. Which was fine, because he spent his whole day in his room shuffling through the archives, so he was easy to dodge. But then you dreamt of him again. And again, and again, and then it just became a part of your nighttime routine to dream of your own friend so intimately and then wake up and pretend like nothing matters and nothing changed. Pretend like you didn't feel anything, and pretend like these dreams didn't flood you with guilt about your sick sick feelings and your sick sick fantasies. 

You tried to rationalize it, make yourself feel less awful. The dreams never went past him laying beside you, for the most part, and you preferred it that way. If they got any more intimate than they already were, you would’ve thrown yourself off the Express the next morning. 

Regardless, the Dan Heng in your dream and the Dan Heng that you saw every morning were different people, because the Dan Heng you saw every morning would never get so close to you. Would never lay in your bed and breathe on your neck like that. 

Never. That distinction is the only thing that convinces you to let yourself dream. You indulge, and it’s sickening, but you let your dreams happen over and over, and each time you hold Dan Heng tighter and tighter and tighter, and let him breathe against your neck, and feel the rush of his blood circulating through his body. 

One night, in one iteration of this dream, Dan Heng kisses you. It feels so real that it makes you nauseous. His lips were warm and damp and clumsy against the corner of your mouth, and he let out anxious breaths until you tangled your hands in his hair and tugged him closer and kissed him back. 

You woke up sick, running to your bathroom to puke in the sink as your hands shook in guilt. Somehow, you could still talk to Dan Heng normally that day, stomach twisting only the slightest bit whenever your gaze lingered on him for too long. 

Welt might have noticed how weird you were acting. There was a nagging furrow in his brow and he caught your gaze more than once and each time, you felt waves of humiliation crash into you, flooding you in heat and guilt and vertigo. He looked like he wanted to pry in that odd, awkward, old-man-paternal way of his, but you just shook your head and looked away and begged, hoped, wished upon a star that you would have a normal dream tonight.

The night— it goes like this: 

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, leftover remnants of guilt swimming in your lungs and nightly congestion forcing you to take shallow breaths through your mouth. Thoughts run through your mind and slam into your skull at rapid speed. Has Dan Heng noticed how weird you’ve been acting? He hasn’t treated you any differently, but maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention, because you’re so busy replaying that dream over and over and over, obsessive, wondering if you should just let go of the rope you’re suspended on and slam into the water and drown in your wants and your needs. 

So you close your eyes, and you let yourself drift off and wake back up in your dream. You’re on your side now, instead of on your back, and the door is on the far wall behind you. You still hear it slide open, as it always does in this dream, and the footsteps get closer until you hear the shuffling of someone kneeling behind you. And then there’s nothing. 

Your blankets don’t get lifted up. There’s no warm body tucking itself next to you. But there’s— a voice, Dan Heng’s voice, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear the pitch of his voice, the vibrations of sound. 

“Are you awake?”

Your brow furrows, and you clench and unclench your fists twice before parting your dry, trembling lips. He’s never spoken in a dream before, not like this. He’s only ever said your name. Your fingers twitch with the instinct to pinch yourself. 

“Yes,” you respond, hoping that the confusion isn’t clear in the timbre of your voice. “What’s— is something wrong?” 

“No,” he says immediately. Clothes rustle as he adjusts himself. You’re scared to turn around and face him. You don’t know what you’d see. “You…” and he pauses, thinking of his words. Dan Heng would rather take a full minute to think about what to say, what words to pick, instead of stumbling over syllables, and it’s so unlike your own habits and as you think of this, your fingers twitch again. This time with the desire to hold his hand, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this dream, but everything feels too real now and you don’t know where you are. 

Finally, he finds his words. You’re patient with him. “I can’t sleep alone,” he whispers, as if embarrassed to admit it, “not tonight. I trust you.” 

God. He can’t say that. He shouldn’t say that, because your head is spinning and you’re going to throw up. Your hand finds the strength to pick itself up and pinch the skin of your forearm. You’re not dreaming. 

“Yeah,” you cough out, sniffling afterwards to cover up your budding anxiety as you finally sit up and turn to face him. “Yeah, you can, um. Sleep here.” 

When he finally enters your field of vision, he looks the same as he always does—both in your dreams and in real life. It makes you sick. The guilt that you feel now comes more from the fact that he’s still in his typical outfit instead of pajamas. 

“Dan Heng,” you start as you shuffle back on your bed to make space for him. He follows your motion, kneeling on the edge of your mattress before adjusting the sheets around you to tuck himself underneath and lay down. “We need to get you pajamas. I don’t know how you sleep like that.” 

“I don’t sleep,” he admits, “not usually. I don’t need a lot of sleep.” 

“You do. You might not think so, but you probably do. I wish I had a spare set of pajamas, but— they’re all, um, in the wash right now.” 

“It’s okay. Your blankets are nice.” 

Words tingle against your gums, syllables of confessions lighting up in your mouth. You want to tell him that a dream-version of him has slept under a copy of these blankets multiple times before, that you’ve dreamed for weeks about him curled into you and sleeping, and saying your name, and kissing the corner of your mouth. Right now, you’re just laid side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but you can feel how warm he is and his hand is so close to yours and you just want to hold it. You want him to say your name and look at you and hold your hand. 

“Good,” you say instead of everything else that you could say, because you have a sense of self control at times. 

Then Dan Heng says your name, rolling onto his side to face you, hands tucked underneath the side of his face in a stupidly endearing sleeping position. You follow suit, because your self control isn’t that strong. He doesn’t say anything else. Just your name, once. With reverence and desire. Maybe you’re dreaming it, but you pinch your knuckles again and yet you’re still in the same room with the same man in front of you. 

One of your arms is bent between you two, hand resting on the pillow that separates you two. Dan Heng’s own hand—warm, and breathing, and real— comes up to rest on top of yours, and you cannot believe any of this is happening. You want to pinch yourself again but his hand is curling around yours and he’s inching forward and you hope that your deer-in-headlights expression doesn’t scare him off. 

“Dan Heng,” you whisper, voice cracking with an embarrassing desperation. It’s a warning for him, before he does whatever he’s about to do. But he says your name, again, and his face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath fan against your face, and your entire body is warmed and your hand flips over to hold his, fingers slipping between his and tightening around it. 

“Have you had these odd dreams these last few nights,” he asks, a leading tone in his voice, “because I have. About you,” and he’s too honest, and you have to swallow your saliva before it turns into sweat and blood, and you feel his hand squeeze back around yours. His is shaking, and you find some kind of comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one. 

“Yeah,” you answer, because you can’t get more than one syllable out at a time tonight. Could anyone blame you? Would Dan Heng blame you for that, afterwards, even though his face is so close and his hand is so warm and it’s tight around you, and he’s shuffling around again, constantly fidgeting, and he takes his other arm and slides it around you, hand between your shoulder blades. He hooks a leg between yours, tugging you closer and closer and closer. You’re blinking at him, heart caught in your throat and eyes landing on his lips so that maybe he’ll finally take the hint. 

He does. He does, and as cliche as it is, it’s better than your dream. He kisses you, desperate, and right before your eyes flutter shut you catch the contemplative furrow in his brow. His mouth is—warm, damp, but you feel the crack in the skin in the center of his bottom lip. It scrapes against you and you can’t help the shaky sigh you release at the feeling, and the hand on your back curls into the fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Your eyes are closed, tight, scared that if you open them, you’ll just wake up back in your room, alone and cold again with your empty steel ceiling. Dan Heng’s mouth is moving against yours with a practiced proficiency that you’re almost jealous of. You let your tongue trace the edges of his teeth, carnal in your desires, before you bite down on his lip hard enough to leave a temporary dent. He shudders, hand trembling against yours and lips pulling back from yours as he tucks his head into your neck and lets out shaky breaths lines with addictive sounds. You’re going crazy. He’s driving you crazy. 

The hard, carved metal parts of his clothes dig into you. Your hand goes around him to rest on the back of his head, threading through his hair as his breathing slows against you. “We can go shopping somewhere tomorrow,” you tell him, already thinking of how you’d convince Pom-Pom to land at some shopping district of some planet. “You need pajamas.” 

“There’s no need for me to have that,” he says, stubborn and set in his ways, even with something as mundane as sleep clothes. “My normal clothes are fine.” 

“Not if you’ll be sleeping in my bed.” 

And that makes him succumb to your whims, much too easy for your own good, and you laugh when he lets out a weary sigh at your reciprocal stubbornness. Your fingers keep combing through his hair, soft and meaningful, until he falls asleep. You think you'll get him a blue plaid pajama set. He'd look nice in it.

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai slowly moving you in without you knowing ~

"Osamu, can I borrow a comb or something? I can't seem to find my hairbrush..."

You call out as you rummage through your duffle bag you brought to spend the weekend at his place. you do this as much as you can, it's lovely to spend time with the one you love... And also because he loses all sanity and rationality if he goes a few days without seeing you. You've been there before, and it's a nightmare for both you and anyone interacting with him. Poor baby!

He perks up, staring at you from across the room, chin resting on his palm and his eyes half-lidded. He's thinking about the day he hid that from you, along with a few other garments. He calls back, sounding scattered.

"Mm? Oh, you can borrow anything you want! Mine's behind the bathroom mirror."

"Okay!"

You open the mirror, and the shelf has not only your hairbrush, but one of your hair clips too. You tilt your head, calling back out.

"Nevermind! Found some of my stuff. Guess I left them here last time, heh."

He jumps at your new finding, quietly cursing himself for not hiding that before you came over. Dazai sighs deeply and immediately hops off the stool, beelining it to you. He clears his throat, playing dumb like the demon he is.

"Well, I think you should still use mine. Please, yours looks all old and yucky. If you keep using it all of your hair will fall out and you'll be bald and hate yourself for the rest of your life and nobody will want you! Except for me, of course~"

"... Um, I don't think so?"

"Well I do! Now, come on, let's get these silky locks in check."

He spins you around and immediately starts combing out your hair, humming a little tune to himself as he does so. He makes a mental note to hide the shirt and pajama shorts he kept last weekend too, that's for when he's alone at night. He also needs to make sure you willingly start leaving things, otherwise you'll freak if you're missing half your stuff. He's so gentle with you and having the time of his life, lightly dusting his fingers against the nape of your neck. He stifles a giggle behind that little smirk plastered on his face when you squirm a bit. He'll make sure you do it plenty of more times before you leave later. Maybe you'll finally beg like he's been wanting you to!

"There. All done."

He presses a soft kiss at the top of your head and you flash him a sweet smile. He could honestly pass out right there. And if he fell down, he'd be at your feet, and then he could be at your knees. Oh! And then you'd fuss over him and never leave his sight. And then... So so so cute...

You get a thoughtful look on your face, and turn to face him fully, popping his delusional little bubble.

"... Come to think of it, I feel like I always lose stuff at your place. You'll gather it for me if you find it, Osamu?"

At the mention of his name, he feels his entire body heat up. He blinks twice and tilts his head innocently. God, you look breathtaking when you're confused. He'll have to take a photo sometime for his album. You love posing for those, and he loves looking at you.

"Sure, but why don't you just... Leave things here from now on? You're here alllll the time, might as well just keep stuff here for safe keeping. I'll be the noble keeper of your things!"

You raise a brow, huffing into a laugh.

"Yeah? Is that what you want to be?"

His voice then becomes softer, needier, and dead serious. He stares right into your beautiful eyes, drowning himself in them. He mutters.

"For you, I'll be anything you want me to be. Afterall, I'm nothing more than a boy made of clay~"

You blush at that. Really hard. Amazing! he thinks. He reaches for your soft face that feels hot to the touch, cupping it inbetween his bandaged hands as he delicately rubs circles on your temples with the pad of his thumb. You wish you could look anywhere else right now because you're falling apart under him and he knows it.

"When you move in, you can do anything you want with the place. Especially with me."

"... Shouldn't we talk more about this another time?"

"Mmm no, not really."

He replies, his Hazelnut eyes go a little darker as he looks down at you.

"Hm, I think we should, cause you're too fast for me. You're like a Hare." You giggle as you say that, eyes twinkling.

"I like bunnies. I like you..."

He mumbles, going straight for your lips before you can say anything else.

Needless to say, you didn't get very far into the discussion after that. He wouldn't let that happen. And that's okay! He can adapt! He thinks he IS being a little pushy and a little too fast for your taste. He's sooo sorry, he'll take it slower next time. In between the sloppy kisses and the very indecent ways he uses his hands to toy with you, he desperately whispers in your ear one last time before he devours you fully.

"... We're staying together forever and ever, yeah?"

"Mmphhhmm..."

[konigsblog]

mdni - tw: dubcon (?), tickle play

tickle play with simon because it's all i can think about

his large, warm hands attacking your sides sent you into a fit of giggles. you were giggling and laughing uncontrollably, until your ribs were hurting and tears were forming at your waterline. simon's thick, slick cock slid into you, but you didn't catch it — too busy giggling to notice how he was rocking his big cock into your sore pussy.

you didn't even register the pain. simon had a smile plastered across his face, from ear to ear. his large, rough hands ran up your body to your armpits, tickling you while you pleaded for him to stop through loud laughter. a low grunt emitted from him, going unnoticed. he furrowed his eyebrows, your walls continuing to pulse and tighten around his girth, squeezing him oh so tightly...

simon's fat balls slapped against your ass, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic the longer he drew out his orgasm. you wiped a tear from your eye, crying of laughter. pretty cheeks tearstained, leaving you flushed and hot and a mess beneath simon who was taking advantage of your vulnerability and dumbness...

and still, you didn't pay attention to the way your thighs and cunny became more and more sticky with his white, milky cum smeared across your skin. his heavy, tight balls slapping against your pretty ass as he rutted into you. he pinched your hardened and sensitive nipple with two fingers, moving his fingers to begin ticking underneath your armpits. your bodies became sweaty the more simon teased and fucked you, thrusting into you one last time before he came all inside your wet pussy.

you breathed heavily, dizzy and lightheaded. you only realised how simon had been fucking you when you felt him pull away, the heavy and hot weight of his dick easing away from your sopping wet cunt, his fingers replacing his cock. they pumped into you, and your jaw became slack from pleasure and surprise. you coated his fingers in sweet slick the more he pushed them into your hole, muttering about how stupid you were to let your guard down around him. he'd rub that spot, his thumb grazing against your sensitive clit, taunting you ‘til you came all over his abdomen.

and you're just so, so confused and tired to process how and what he was doing to you. :(

[kianely]

okok hear me out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

being needy and riding re6 leon’s thigh and he starts sweetly mocking you for being so pent up and vocal even though he hasn’t even really touched you at all

i’m not usually this horny but :( next time i’ll send some fluff into your askbox

Omg anon I’m hearing you out, you got me thinking about this…just imagine how much muscle his thighs have 😵‍💫 I wrote a little gender neutral drabble on this under the cut I hope that’s okay

Thank you for sending an ask I love interaction AHH

“That’s it,” his murmurs fan against the sensitive skin of your ear, and they turn your brain into mush with each syllable that emits from his lips. “You’re so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a noise complaint.”

Your pajama pants are discarded somewhere on the floor of your shared living room as you rut against him. Leon has been so busy that you couldn’t help but pounce on him when he got some free time, scrambling over to him as soon as he sat down on the couch.

The scent of his cologne and pheromones fills your senses, a combination that makes you press your face against the crook of his neck in an attempt to get more.

And you’re so noisy—grunts and whimpers spilling from you with each roll of your hips against his thigh. The rough fabric of his denim jeans against the flimsier and thinner fabric of your underwear (which are pretty wet with your arousal, dampening up Leon's pants as well) has you rolling your eyes back.

“Don’t even need to lift a damn finger. Love me so much I bet you could come untouched.”

Surely he wouldn’t be that mean, right? Though…you could definitely come untouched. Hell, you gushed at the mere sound of his raspy morning voice; you got all excited whenever you got a peek of his happy trail.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” God, his voice is gravelly. His hand slides up to rest against the arch of your back. “You’re soaking my pants just from dry humping me like a damn dog.”

“Leon—“ you want to protest against those words, you feel a little bit embarrassed (and very turned on) and in turn, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. He cuts you off with a low rumble of laughter, catching onto your embarrassment and pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Bet you’d grind against my leg if I put you on your knees, hm? Poor baby can’t even go a day without being all over me.” He brings his hand to your jaw, cradles it, and brings you in for a kiss. It drowns out the loudness of your drunken sounding noises. His stubble brushes against your chin, and he gently pats his fingers against your cheek.

“You can be my sweet lap dog and keep me warm all day. What do you think?”

[rotthepoet]

Content: Hogwarts College Au, All characters above 18+, Fingering, Spanking, Enzo being kinda a bitch, Anal, Overstimulation, Pussy slapping, Masc and Fem anatomy, no pronouns used other than You.

Still having mean Lorenzo Berkshire brainrot but this time its horny

Asshole boyfriend Lorenzo 100% uses overstim as a punishment and i stand by that. He wants you shaking and crying and whining for forgiveness(when really its he who should be apologizing) while he wrecks you

He spanks you hard, and fast. Doesnt bother keeping count, hes just going at it now. Once your ass is a pretty shade of red, he’s slipping those fingers right over your hole. He doesnt even bother working you up, just plunging his middle finger deep inside you. Just thrusting a few times before adding his ring finger. Hes coo’ing at you for your cutie moans and whining.

Oh and he’d just love slowly stroking you, just watching your dick weep with pre. He collects it on his fingers and forces them into your mouth while his other fingers brush against your prostate.

And god hes so mean to your clit too. Like pinching and slapping it until youre squirming and crying.

Either way, you arent getting dick until hes fully bored of toying with you. Half an hour into it and he forgets why he was mad in the first place. Hard to remember when you whine his name so sweetly.

[delphi-shield]

helping hand // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2,600 read on ao3 mdni - 18+ hiii, you've all been so kind. unfortunately i am simply Too Awkward to properly express that, but i genuinely do appreciate all your kind words. please accept this smut as a token of my appreciation. i am definitely not luring you in with leon fics so that i can start posting the seven jill fics i'm working on haha what who would do that.

Leon helps you use a new toy. That's it, that's the smut. afab reader, use of dildo w/ knot & cumtube, size kink, use of good girl

You're not really sure what you expect Leon to do, per se - but in a moment of unfettered horniness, you had texted him. Told him how badly you needed him. He just hadn't known, maybe, what exactly you wanted from him. Not until you sent the picture, sloppily marked with a red line to show him exactly how far you had managed to take your newest toy - and how badly you wanted to take the whole thing.

You wedged your thumb between your teeth, biting at the nail. You stared at your last text message from Leon.

On my way ;)

That stupid fucking smiley face. You shouldn't be this nervous. You had requested his help. The ball was entirely in your court. You could pull the plug on this at any moment. Christ, it wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before. He had knotted you into a pretzel more times than you could count, bent you over nearly every surface in your apartment, kicked your feet apart, and slid home like he was made for it.

But you've never really had this kind of experience with him before.

Sure, whatever. He had used your vibrator on you before. That wasn't an unwelcome guest. He had even mentioned more toys, left it up to you to decide when you wanted to introduce them to the bedroom. But this? This was different.

It was fucking huge, for starters.

The dildo sat there, intimidating on its own. You nudge the prominent head with a finger, trace the ridges down to the knot at the base. That's the part that's giving you trouble. That's the part you need help with. The cumtube should help, in theory. It’s already filled in anticipation of Leon’s arrival, the syringe lying off to the side while the toy sits in the middle of a towel you had spread out. You may as well get a spotlight, unfurl a banner that reads ‘HELP ME FUCK MYSELF’. Maybe some confetti poppers. Thoughts for next time. You should make a note of it.

Leon knocks like a cop, meaty part of his fist slamming against the door one, two, three times in a way that never fails to make you jump. You're already on edge, after all. Your pacing stops. You wipe your thumb off onto your shorts (tiny, barely more than glorified underwear - not like it matters. They'll be discarded soon anyway.) and wrench the door open. Leon grins down at you. His eyes skitter across the room, searching for the toy no doubt. You snort. As if you'd have it just sitting out on the kitchen table.

He greets you with a kiss to the top of your head, peeling off his coat and dropping it over the back of your couch. He slips out of his shoes - and you realize then and there that he looks like he's thrown on whatever was in reach at the time. His shirt is crumpled, socks mismatched - maybe he's more excited about this than you had expected. The thought sparks a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "when do I get to meet the little guy?"

"Little?" You tease, a grin twitching the corners of your lips into a smile.

He raises his hands, palms out. “My mistake.”

You snort, waving for him to follow you. As if he needs the encouragement. His hands settle onto your shoulders, thumbs gently pressing and massaging. You nudge the door open with your foot, sweeping your hand out in an exaggerated motion. 

Leon lets out a low whistle. "Okay. Not so little."

Your nerves rise up again, getting the best of you for a moment. You pick at your finger, lingering by the door while he steps in, crouching down to observe the set up you've laid out for him.

"We don't have to," you offer him an out, shrugging like it's fine, like you won't be disappointed - like the idea won't be burning a hole in the back of your mind for the rest of your goddamn life every time you get even a little horny.

"No," he says quickly. He picks up the syringe, testing it curiously. A bead of lube dribbles from the head of the toy, drops to darken the towel below. "I think we do."

"But, like, we actually don't--"

Leon stands, turns back to you. His hands rest on your shoulders again, his head ducking to look you in the eye. He's not smiling - but damn, with that gleam in his eye, he doesn't have to.

"You want to. That's good enough for me."

Kissing him is the most natural thing in the world. A ‘thank you’, an ‘I love you’, all wrapped up into a press of your lips to his. He licks into your mouth, hands sliding down your arms slowly. He nudges your bedroom door shut only to press you against it, knee rising between your legs and pressing. You groan, rocking your hips against him, letting the friction ignite in the pit of your stomach. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, exploring skin that you've spent hours mapping out and committing to memory. He hisses a breath between his teeth, and you giggle when he mutters about your freezing little fingers, yet refuses to pull away. A hand trails to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before his hand rests atop yours, stilling you.

"Nice try," he teases. "You're not getting out of this that easy. You asked me here for a reason."

No amount of huffing or pouting dissuades him. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He's shucking your shirt off of you, flinging it to some corner of the room. His hands grip your sides, kneading soft flesh between his fingers. For a moment, you wonder if he remembers that reason himself. He spins you around, off the door, and nudges you towards the center of the room, towards the little station you had set up. His fingers linger against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps where they once were.

"Why don't you show me how you usually do this and we'll go from there."

You clear your throat, your eyes skittering off to the side. You hook a thumb under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down past the point of your hip. Leon’s gaze is hot on your skin, eyes narrowing the slightest bit when he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“I kind of started before you got here,” you admit. You gesture sheepishly to a smaller toy lying discarded to the side. Leon’s shoulders straighten, the hiss of a breath sucked through his teeth. He lets out a slow, whispered ‘okay’.

It takes a few awkward, fumbling moments to get into place. You kneel over your target and Leon stands back with his hands on his hips, watching. You laugh, tell him it isn’t a spectator sport, and the awkward tension bleeds out of the room when he chuckles. He drops to one knee behind you, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of your head.

His hands settle firmly onto your hips, guiding you down onto the toy. Your head leans back against his chest, lube-slick hand curled around the base to keep it steady. The head slips into you, the slide greeting you with a rush of warmth flooding your belly. His lips press below your ear, murmuring strings of praises. His hands slide from your hips to caress your breasts, calloused thumbs circling your nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger and plucking. You keen, your back arching, pressing into his hands, and your hips roll. More of the toy presses into you - enough to give you pause, enough to drive the breath from your lungs in the form of a whimper.

The stretch and the burn isn't unpleasant. It fuels the fire in your belly, spreading to your limbs - but you know that this is the easy part. This part, you’ve done on your own. You take a moment, balanced on your knees, to enjoy the stretch, the fullness.

Before you get too comfortable, Leon's hands grasp your hips again and urge you upwards, the ridges of the toy dragging against your soaked walls. A groan stays locked behind your lips, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. He presses you back down, sets a steady pace for you that you wouldn't have picked for yourself. His hands brace you, his arms looped around you firm, until your hips move without his guidance.

He raises his fingers to your lips and you open obediently, pressing your tongue to the seam of his digits. You lap and suck at his skin. His forehead lowers, pressing into your neck to release a hot groan against your skin.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your jaw hard - harder than he meant to. His fingers squeeze, pursing your lips for him to kiss. He’s ravenous, spit-slick fingers leaving a warm, sticky feeling against your skin, teeth tugging your bottom lip to his mouth for him to suckle. You aren’t sure which is more obscene - the sloppy, wet noises of your pussy or the starved way he kisses you.

"I am so hard right now," Leon whispers against your lips. A shock of arousal jolts your hips down. You groan, fumbling blindly behind you, hand slapping against his chest and sliding lower. He catches your wrist and chides, “Nuh-uh. Focus.”

“No fair,” you whine.

Leon drags the backs of his fingers down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach, and between your folds. The fingers you had sucked so dutifully moments before circle your clit in quick, harsh movements that pin your shoulders back.

“You want to talk about fair?” He growls in your ear. The knot catching against your hole, presses against you in a way that makes you whine and pull up. Leon leans against your back, urging you down again. “Calling me over just to help you fuck yourself? You think that’s fair?” You aren’t even sure what you’re saying anymore, babbling, hiding your face in your arm, body moving, chasing his fingers, chasing the press and the fill of the toy in your cunt.

“Almost there,” Leon huffs, his breathing nearly as labored as yours in a way that makes your heart

rate fucking spike and your vision blur. “Doin’ so good. Gotta get you nice and fucked open for me later, huh?”

You whimper and whine each time you come back down to meet the knot, the pressure against your pussy too much to push past, but god you want this, you want this whole thing so badly. Leon’s fingers stall on your clit, pressing against you firmly. He leans away, the heat of his chest disappearing and leaving you cold and empty.

“Leon -” you start to protest, your words melting into a moan. An ungodly squelch pushes lube through the toy, splurting deep in your pussy and coating your already soaked walls. You move, rising up and mewling at the contrast of the cool lube. The glide down grows easier, quicker, more desperate. The knot kisses your entrance against and again, lube and slick dribbling down the length of the toy and pooling at the base.

The press doesn’t burn any longer. It’s a pressure that makes your mouth drop open and your head roll back, your eyes squeezed shut. Leon is all over you, his fingers rubbing fervently at your clit, building a fuzzy, static-y pleasure that contrast perfectly with the deep, satiating fullness. He presses open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he can reach, his tongue licking and teeth nipping.

You sink down again and then it’s in. The breath drives from lungs, your whole body frozen a moment. It returns to you in a ragged moan. You slump against Leon, picking your hips up experimentally and pressing back down. The knot stretches you wide again.

“Good girl,” Leon coos, his eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, mouth parted. He lets you enjoy yourself a moment longer, lets you clumsily rock your hips against the base of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

His arm loops around your waist, easing you off the toy in a slide that makes you moan, makes your insides quiver and your eyes squeeze shut. A rush of lube gushes down the toy, darkening the towel. You don’t have the time to be embarrassed by the noise your body makes; he positions you quickly, your back resting against his chest, spread open for him with your legs draped over his knees. He grabs your toy, slick with lube and with you, and glides the head between your lips. Your legs twitch, but he holds them open. Blessedly, he doesn’t tease for long. He guides the toy into you and marvels at the way it slides so easily, at the noises you make for him, the part of your lips, the stagger of your breathing.

His hand grips the base of the toy, fucking you with it at his own pace, the grind and the push so perfect you can’t catch your breath. His hand flattens across your stomach to stop your squirming, but when it proves worthless he chuckles, mutters something about how needy you are, and goes back to playing with your clit.

You clamp down on the toy, your walls too slicked, too wet to offer any real resistance to the way Leon thrusts it into you. The stutter of your hips becomes desperate, the noises leaving you pitched high, and a final pass of Leon’s fingers against your clit makes you snap, the pleasure flooding through you in a wave that pulls you under, leaves you gasping for air. His mouth latches onto your neck, holding the toy still for you to grind onto as you work your way through your release.

It feels like an hour has passed when your head finally clears. The stiff feeling settling in your knees and in your hips is something for your to worry about later. Leon strokes your hair from your face, his arms curled around your waist now, letting you take your time as you recover.

“You still hard?” You ask, turning your head to kiss him.

“You have no idea,” Leon laughs, low and throaty. He kisses you soft, resisting the urging to tilt your head back and take this another direction.

He doesn’t let you relax too long, working the toy out of you gently. The emptiness has you curling into his side, you skin sticky with lube, sweat, your own release - god knows what, at this point. You can’t be certain that you really care, that floaty feeling still washing through your veins.

As much as you want to linger there on the floor, Leon scoops you up and deposits you on the bed. You reach a hand out for him, urging him to join you, but he only holds up a finger to tell you to wait.

“Gotta get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding any other fun toys from me.”

“The dresser, second drawer on the right.”

He shakes his head, taking it for a joke. He shoots you a smirk as he opens the drawer. His face falters, surprise flickering over his features, a light oh leaving his lips.

“Well,” he says, his hands settling onto his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ve got all night, huh?”

[microtyalm13]

everything about Gavriil feels suffocating.

how his presence alone can be almost overwhelming, how his massive body cages you everytime without a chance to escape. you wouldn't dare to try anyway, knowing that you don't even have a say against a creature of his caliber. he will find you. in your dreams, in your nightmares. in your room.

how he will be intense and vague about everything just for the sake of it; to confuse you further, to see the conflict of emotions in your eyes merge with arousal. eventually your hesitance turns into acceptance, a desperate need to feel his hands all over you. and he will be oh so grateful to fulfill that desire.

how his thick tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, reaching almost the back of your throat, relishing in the muffled little sounds you make. your drool mixed with his saliva drips down your chin, and your hazy eyes look up at him when he finally pulls away, giving you a second to breathe.

how his hips are slamming into you relentlessly, your wetness and lack of resistance allowing him to move almost effortlessly. forced to hold onto him for dear life instead of pushing away. all of your morals and principles are being tossed out of the window every single time he comes to you. he has you where he wants you, and will not stop until he feels like you can't take it anymore.

and how in the morning he vanishes away, leaving you guessing: was it just another wet dream? but the cold stickiness between your legs tells you more than you need to know.

[tokensonsaturn]

Do anime fanfic writers only know how to write smut? Like I’m looking for some fluff or fuck it some angst and all I see is smut

[luvrxbunny]

i really really really love the idea of a guy who basically can’t separate his positive emotions from his dick

so like if you’re nice to him? he’s hard

if you’re soft with him? he’s hard

you buy him a present? he’s hard.

you remember an anniversary? you remember his favorite song, movie, or show? he’s hard.

or if you’re doing simple tasks that he thinks are cute like you’re watching your feet while you walk, or biting your lip while you read, or fixing your glasses, tucking your hair behind your ear, or leaning away, scared out of your mind to avoid a flying bug.

he’s so fucking hard.

and even better he doesn’t want you to know. so he’s constantly excusing himself to take care of the issue.

or he can’t get away for some reason and you’re being too adorable so he ends up cumming, untouched in his pants. he can’t hold in his moans and that’s how you find out.

or one day he’s had enough and just takes himself out and starts jerking off with you right there. not explaining anything because he’s too desperate to stop so you just watch him frantically pump his cock until he cums.

[eustassslut]

thinking about first mate! Killer who insists on fucking you before Kid does, just so he can check you’re worthy enough for his beloved captain. he’d be so degrading and mean to you, calling you filthy names and making you prove yourself as worthy to please Kid properly.

[hannahkay-411]

It is a whole new kind of humiliating when you start a fic and realize two sentences in you’ve already read it 😭

[ninyard]

hello I would like the kevallison smut ?? Please

The promised kevallison headcanons (aka how the two of them figure out what the other person is into + how they might go about doing it)

When they start hooking up it’s all pretty standard stuff. Allison gets him off after a game. Kevin eats her out if there’s ten minutes free in between classes and an empty dorm room. They’re a booty call before, during or after a night out, or a no-strings-attached way to get some frustration off their chest. Their friends-with-benefits situation is more often than not just a quick fuck when they’re bored. But it's kind of just… that? It's just fucking. It's a handful of different positions, in a handful of different places, but nothing more than fucking, finishing, and leaving. They don’t feel a need to bring it any further though, in some ways hesitant that the other will catch feelings if it gets too intimate. But from the get-go their agreement is clear - if either starts to get attached, or jealous, or even thinks that it might be worth pursuing, they stop. It doesn’t happen, of course, but in the beginning they really try to err on the side of caution until they know that for certain.

There’s one of two ways that their casual hook ups becomes more... interesting every now and again: one) accidentally. two) intentionally.

If it is accidental, I think they stumble upon the other’s kinks by the Grace of God. It's a quick fuck that turns into something more because one of them picks up on how the other's demeanor changes and they realise oh. oh. That did something for them. The moment when it happens is so intoxicating and sexually charged; So intense at the realisation of how turned on the other person is, that they’re just waiting for someone in the dorm room over, or outside the bathroom at a party, or in the almost-empty parking lot to ask did anyone hear Allison and Kevin fucking last night? For either of them, single and used to quick fucks with strangers that don't mean anything nor have the longevity for experimenting with, getting to dip into their fantasies is unparalleled pleasure.

If it’s accidental, it’s a pleasant surprise for them both, and Kevin and Allison have that in common - they are both incredibly, heavily turned on by their fuck-buddies feeling satisfied. It happens, where sometimes Kevin just wants to be blown without returning the gesture, or where Allison wants to come without having to put in the effort it takes to give back. More often than not, though, whether it be with each other or with other people, they're most satisfied when the other person is satisfied, too. So when the topic of kinks and turn ons is broached, or accidentally revealed, it doesn't matter that it's Kevin, or that it's Allison. When they've been fucking for long enough that they find themselves discovering these things, they're comfortable enough with each other to not feel embarrassed about what happens when they have sex. If it makes her wet, and it keeps him hard, then it doesn't matter. They don't talk about their sex lives outside of when or where it happens - a kink or two isn't going to change that.

For Kevin, sweet submissive baby boy who just lives to be praised - oh, when Allison finds out, it opens this door for changing their dynamics that she hadn't even realised existed. Kevin gets so turned on that he practically melts, and Allison eats it up like it's the hottest thing she's ever laid eyes on.

They've found themselves standing up against a wall in a bathroom at a party somewhere, too many suggestive looks across the room leading to a desperately desired handjob or two, and Kevin is fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He struggles with it for a second, before pulling the black leather out from it's square frame and Allison offhandedly says good job with a laugh as she trails kisses up his neck and her fingers down his stomach. She feels his reaction to her words before she notices how his eyes glaze over with the thoughts in his head; how he stills at her words, how he's yearning through his sigh when she follows with a knowing whisper of oh, you want me to tell you how good you're being?

Him in her hand, the long acrylic nails of her free hand dragging lines down his neck, Allison feels how needy he is and softly purrs in his ear to tell her how much he wants it. It's not lost on him how she plays with him like putty between her tender fingers, but still he looks into her eyes with his eyebrows knitted into each other, too close to argue; The please that escapes his lips trapped in between a gasp and a moan is rebutted with her sultry say it again. I want to hear that pretty voice beg. It takes the stalling of the rhythm in her working hand before he finds the ability to whimper out his desperate please, please, please. She's using her free hand to hold his face still, their eyes locked together, while he can barely keep himself in one piece. Her thumb is soft over his lips, brushing over little gasps and short breaths, holding him while she whispers a question and he falls apart in her hands.

If Kevin loves to be topped by strong women, Allison loves to hear a man moan. And she’s never heard him like this before, his lips drawn apart just inches from hers, one hand steadying himself against the wall and the other tugging and pawing at the skin of the small of her back. She doesn't let him look away as she guides him to climax with her soft words of gentle praise. How pretty he looks when he's trying his hardest to be quiet, how well he's doing at keeping himself composed.

Allsion doesn't care that she's accidentally unlocked this submissive side of Kevin; firstly, he's hot as hell when he's this desperate, and it's not as if she's going to be leaving that bathroom and calling him a good boy on the court, because that's not how this works. She's fucked him angry and she's fucked him needy - the passion of fulfilled fantasy only working on a different level to anything else.

(When he's caught his breath and started to clean himself up, she washes her hands and admires her work; his rosy cheeks burning up as she watches him in the mirror. She pushes herself up onto the vanity, and when he can finally bare to look at her again, she says I'm proud of you with a playful smile. Kevin covers his face to laugh in semi-embarrassment, his head shaking as he finds himself in between her legs. They don't talk about it too much before he returns the favour.)

Then there's, Allison, sweet Allison, who's interests work in harmony like a perfect composed song. We knows she loves to hear the men she sleeps with, but there's two things that really get her going that more often than not go hand in hand - rough sex, and loud sex. Living in dorms, it's hard to indulge, especially the second, but usually she'll just pull him close, with his lips to her ear or hers to his. Allison gets off on hearing the person she's fucking, and Kevin is not an exception to that.

They've somehow had a stroke of luck - an empty house in Columbia and some time to kill. Kevin is on the edge of the bed, and Allison is facing Kevin while sitting on his lap, her knees resting on either side of him, in a skirt that is already so short that it's barely even there. They're making out, and Kevin isn't really thinking, but he slaps her ass - something he'd done once or twice before, but never that hard, never that loud. Allison sits back, hands on his shoulders with her mouth open wide. She doesn't get the chance to finish her questioning what are you doing? Before his mischievous smile curls around, what, this? as he laughs and does it again. When she stands up off of him in a half-protest, shaking her finger at how close he was getting to really getting her going, he follows her up. He stands in front of her with feigned apologies for his boldness. She leans into his kiss, with arms wrapped tight around her waist, but instead of pouting his lips, he picks her up and throws her back onto the bed while she scream-laughs.

Body over body, on top of her then, a hand finds it's way in between strands of shiny blonde. A hand that she takes into hers, guiding his fist to grasp a handful of her hair. When he doesn't hold it hard enough she tugs it gently, keeping his fist closed with her hand around it. Looking down at her, he purses his lips with an oh that pauses his other hand while it pushes up her skirt to touch her over her panties. Reading him while waiting for the laugh that never comes is agonisingly long, as she braces herself for the mortifying conversation that he was not going to be entertaining it. Instead he waits for her hand to trail away before pulling her head, hard, back into the bed. And when she shuts her eyes and parts her lips in pleasure, he is quick to bring his hand up to her chin, tilting her head back. The two smallest of his fingers fingers tuck themselves neatly behind her ear, the other two tight between her jawline and her cheekbone. The ball of his thumb is resting on her chin. She doesn't stop him when his thumb trails down from her cupid's bow and into her mouth. She doesn't stop him when he takes it out hold it around her throat, either. Kevin is careful to scatter wet bruises down her chest where they won't be seen. When he's standing back to take off his pants and she’s lifting her top over her head, he asks, you want it hard? and she responds do you even fucking have to ask?

Her skirt is up over her hips and her thong down her thighs. He’s on his knees with her legs over his thighs, maybe he’s pinning her hands down above her head with one big hand over her little wrists. Headboard banging, unrestrained volume, handprints on ass cheeks and scratches across spines. Allison gets sex-drunk when he manhandles her. It’s sloppy, it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s so hot that it’s on fire. It’s eye-rolling, being in a daze afterwards type of fucking. It’s mascara running down cheeks, how the fuck am I supposed to look anyone in the eye after having that done to me type of fucking. It’s needing to have a shower immediately afterwards type of sweaty, messy fucking.

(It’s probably one of the only times they almost/kind of get caught. Not because of the noise, or the sex itself but because of the aftermath. Andrew and Neil clock INSTANTLY the missing and changed details when they regroup - how Kevin’s hair is freshly washed, how Allison has taken her heavy makeup off leaving only a fresh coat of mascara and some lipgloss remaining. How they can barely look at each other in case it reminds them of what has just happened. Their puffy lips, their general daze. Yeah, they fly a little too close to the sun that time - not enough time afterwards to recuperate from an absolutely dirty, filthy, fucking.)

If it's an intentional thing, a discussion about what they're into, and they know before getting into it/it's a conscious choice/it's intentional/some sort of discussion/WHATEVER? There's a few ways I could potentially see it possibly coming up.

A game of Never Have I Ever or some other drinking game with the group and the discussions of kinks come up; Kevin drinks when somebody mentions a praise kink, or being dominated. Allison drinks when somebody mentions liking it rough. Their looks to each other are quick but knowing, Kevin's raised eyebrows when Allison drinks to say she doesn't mind being degraded, the flick of her eyes when he drinks to say he doesn't mind begging for it.

They don't hang around after hooking up, usually. Clean up, get dressed, and leave. That's the routine. But they're talking afterwards for a little while, and the subject of fantasies comes up, and while shes fixing her makeup and tying up her hair she asks him what's the one thing he'd go crazy for. he considers it for a little bit but then gets embarrassed because it's a way harder thing to talk about when you're not actively turned on or drunk. They offer each other tiny pieces as they joke about it, starting tame before they eventually just say it out straight. (she calls him princess when she's leaving and he calls her a slut before she shuts the door.)

They ask each other outright. Kinda similar to accidentally figuring it out but they ask each other for it instead of the other person just doing something and stumbling upon it. Maybe Kevin asks her to tell him how good he feels and she asks why, are you into that? and they like. talk through it . Do you like it when I ask you this? Can I call you this? Do you like it when I tell you you're doing such a good job? Talking through sex can be so hot and even hearing the questions out loud sets the imagination off on a fucking marathon. Maybe Allison asks can you choke me? and he asks her how she likes it before agreeing. Do you like it when I hold you like this? Do you want me to spit in your mouth? Do you want to shut the fuck up and listen to what you do to me? It's a much more thorough discussion than them simply going oh, i think the other person has [blank] kink, so i'm just gonna go ahead and do that. It's a request, instead. Both of them knowing what they want and knowing how to ask for it? Yeaaaahhhh