Just a big amalgamation of sin

Mack, 22, she/they, lots of anime, some unrelated stuff, I'm a mess and my blog shall reflect that

[crackinwise]

A funny way they could have revealed canon Chreon would've been if Umber Eyes asked "Leon S. Kennedy-Redfield?"

And Leon's like "The fuck? Is he telling everyone I hyphenated?! Get his ass down here, now!"

Umber Eyes says with a small voice into the comm, "Alpha, it worked. It's him; he's fine."

[lunarpogu]

sometimes after alcatraz, before chris’ deployment to louisiana, they got back together just a bit longer.

ik they got real freaky on the bed. competitive too🤷

[turnbackthependulum]

Cw/tw blood

Oh. My. 🙏🏻

[leonsgfpost]

this & older leon s. kennedy ۶ৎ

he could solve all my problems

[effervescent-fool]

really into the idea of whitaker being established rabbots third (whether they're married or just committed) but less in the "rabbot deliberately adopting him into their relationship" way but more in a "whitaker inserts himself into their lives so gently and gradually that they dont even realize what's happened until they wake up in bed one morning with him curled up between them and realize they were the ones who got courted"

[omega-rick-grimes]

Love when hucklerabbot is just:

Robby: "bro I am a horrible, evil, perverted old man"

Abbot: ?

Robby: I've been fucking one of the med students.

Abbot: awww, without me bro?

[margaglitterdeath]

✨YES✨😃

[kanakori]

a couple backshots from ur boss never hurt anybody

[manicorcishdreamgirl]

A hill i will die standing on is that picky eaters deserve respect and accommodation and to eat food they enjoy too. Sensory issues, disliked flavors, allergies, intolerances, cultural differences, religious restrictions, moral or political choices, they all deserve to be given consideration if you know you're gonna be cooking for them and to not be excluded from the fundamental right to food & access to the many important social bonding acitivities centered around food

[mikkeneko]

Lotta people in the notes going "well I'll respect picky eaters if they have a Real Actual Good Reason like allergies/autism/religious exemptions/allergies again but only if they're life threatening, but not if they're just being fussy little princesses for no good reason"

This is the same framework btw as "people need to be more tolerant of harmless weirdness, with or without an autism diagnosis." You don't know what's behind a person's food aversions; sometimes even that person doesn't know what's really behind their food aversions. Refusing to respect a person's food preferences unless it comes with an Official Medical Label attached is a setup for constantly intruding on the boundaries of people with arfid, allergies, religious restrictions etc. until someone gets hurt, and then claiming "well I didn't know! I thought they were just being picky for no reason!"

[alarajrogers]

Also, I think "absolutely hates this, finds it disgusting and repulsive" is a good reason for not eating a food.

[hansoeii]

I reblogged the destiel phan is real meme and now people are asking me who dan and phil are. I thought you could only join this website if you had a problematic parasocial relationship with them when you were 14

[gerardwaysbob]

[strang3lov3]

Problem Child

You cum untouched in Joel's bed.

Tags - smut, cumming untouched, humiliation, girthy yet unspecified age gap, dad’s best friend!joel, masturbation, finger fucking. if this looks like romangerri there's a reason for that. A/N - about probably a year ago I had plans to start a dbf!joel x slime!puppy reader series and never did. Here’s a little of what that kinda would have looked like. Maybe we’ll add onto this and flesh it out some more at some point.  

Joel feels you there before he sees you. A shift in the air, or something. He wasn’t really sleeping soundly to begin with.  

“Jesus Christ.” Joel jerks awake and jumps at the sight of you standing at the edge of his bed, looking down at his sleeping form. He’s lying on his side with his blanket tucked under his bicep, wearing a thin gray t-shirt and boxers. “The hell are you doin’ here,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep. He’s not in the mood for you, for…this. He knows what it is. Parental intuition and all that, or he’s just especially attuned to pick up on your bullshit. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Joel turns toward the clock, and squints to read the glowing red numbers - 12:37 in the morning. He rolls his eyes, then adjusts deeper into the mattress. “So go back to bed.” 

“Can I sleep with you?”

“No,” Joel clips. “Told you I’m not doin’ that again.” 

Joel’s blanket rustles as he flips over, hoping that you’ll leave him alone this time. He shuts his eyes and curses to himself, waiting to hear your footsteps as you walk away. But you never do. You remain at his side, lingering, waiting for him to cave to you. 

Joel is just a man, after all. And he knows this himself, as his jaw tightens and his body tenses. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Joel. I just wanna sleep in your bed tonight.” 

“Why?”

“I’m having nightmares.” 

Joel inhales and exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he resigns, dragging a hand down his face. He lifts up his blanket then, and you’re quick to shuffle around the edge of his bed, then slide into the sheets next to him. Joel’s bed is warm, and it smells just like him - Irish Spring soap, sweat, detergent. You fucking love it. You always did.  

Before you can wriggle your way into his arms, Joel flips back over to where he originally lay, although maybe a few inches closer to his nightstand. Maybe he’ll even wedge a pillow between your bodies, he doesn’t know. But what Joel does know is that you’ll remain at arm’s length, and that’s all you’re going to get from him. “You face the wall and y’don’t move,” Joel gruffs. “Now close your eyes and go the fuck to sleep.” 

“But wait–”

“What?” Joel snaps, sharp voice cutting through the dark.

“I…need a goodnight kiss, Joel.” 

“You are too fuckin’ old for this crap,” Joel mutters, moving his body anyway. “C’mere - if I kiss you will you go to sleep?” He leans over you and holds you by your shoulder, squeezing you hard. He’s like that when he’s agitated, rough with his hands. It’s why his truck door doesn’t close right and why there’s chips in the wood in his furniture. It just spills out of him. 

“Yes.” 

Joel looks at you and sighs, exasperated. “You are too fuckin’ old for this crap,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your skin warm under his whiskered lips. “Givin’ me a fuckin’ headache. Now go to bed. M’serious, kid. No funny business this time.” Joel reaches for the bottle ibuprofen he keeps on his nightstand and untwists the cap, dumping a small handful of pills into his calloused palm. He takes them without counting them, and washes them down with a mouthful from his room temperature, two day old glass of water.

You. 

You are a fucking issue.

Joel’s not an idiot. He knows you’ve always had eyes for him. Always. When you were younger and developing into yourself, you had also developed a crush on him. And it wasn’t a big deal, at least it shouldn’t have been. He knows how young girls work. You couldn’t get along with your father and Joel was there to…mediate, maybe. He didn't know what he was doing. Give you both space from each other, maybe. Your wires became crossed or whatever, some weird Freudian bullshit that Joel had figured would go away with time, but it never really did. 

He had never engaged with it before. Joel doesn’t know what all happened, just that you and he were at odds, so tense in this very bedroom not so long ago. You were on his last fucking nerve and he just - he fucking snapped. He made the stupid mistake of telling you to masturbate out all of your fucking bullshit and what had happened?

“Maybe I will,” you taunted, tossing yourself onto his mattress, playing at your own game. Joel stood there seething and pissed off as you unzipped your jeans and shoved your hand beneath the fabric, toying with your soaked folds. “Maybe I’ll do it right here, Joel. With you.” 

“Then shit or get off the fuckin’ pot. Dealt with plenty worse than an attention seekin’ brat fingering herself. Go. Figure yourself out.” 

He knew better. Joel fucking knew better than to test you like that. And he sat and watched as you fucked yourself, equal parts disturbed and aroused as you moaned his name, and moaned louder as he told you how ridiculous and fucking disgusting you were.

Joel sat at the end of his bed in the morning, waiting for you to wake up. And when you did, he apologized. His voice was quiet. Joel told you that what happened was wrong and most importantly, it wasn’t happening again. “Okay, Joel,” you’d said, and later made a joke in front of everyone about masturbating in his bed. He dragged you by the bicep into the bathroom to scold you, bruising your flesh as he shook you by the shoulders. 

You always were a problem child. 

You know what you’re here for, even if you’re not honest about it. You’ll get your goodnight kiss and then some before going the fuck to sleep. 

Same as before, you slip your hand into your sweatpants, fingers dipping between your wet, sensitive lips. You gasp quietly, palm over your mouth as you rock your hips and watch Joel sleep. God, you’re fucked up. He’s fucking right, about you being an attention whore or whatever. And why wouldn’t you be, when cumming felt so much better in Joel’s presence? 

You spread your legs, pressing your fingers against your drooling hole to collect your arousal, and drag it through your folds. You circle your clit a couple of times, then slide two fingers into your wet cunt, curling them quick enough to make sound. Wet, sticky noises that rouse Joel from his rest, not that he was really sleeping. 

Joel flips over and pulls the blanket off of your body, scoffing at the sight of your hand rapidly moving under your sweatpants. “So that’s what this is,” he spits. “I knew you were full of shit.” 

“Yeah,” you whimper, fucking your fingers harder. “Yeah, I was.” Your breaths quicken, heart pounding as Joel glares at you. His chest is rising and falling with the deep, measured breaths, and he looks so angry like he could fucking hurt you. You wonder if he ever would. If that’s what it’d take to finally get through your thick fucking skull. 

“What would your old man say, huh? I think - get your fuckin’ hand out of - he’d be ashamed of you,” Joel hisses, pulling your hand away from yourself. He pins them both on the pillows by your head, then crawls over your body, his fingers squeezing your wrists hard enough to grind the bones inside together. “Because you’re fuckin’ sick,” he spits, his voice like venom. 

“Touch me,” you whisper, vibrating beneath Joel’s body. He’s close enough you could fucking taste him, and what would happen if you did? 

“No - I’m not enablin’ this shit, goddammit. I changed your fuckin’ diapers for christ’s sake. You listen to me - listen. You have a fucking problem, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah - yes,” you whimper, every one of Joel’s words going straight to your core. He’s got his knee between your thighs as he speaks, and you rock yourself against him there, desperate for the friction. 

“Knock it off.” Joel pulls his knee away, pressing it under your thigh, keeping you spread wide and untouched. “Fuckin’ animal. I don’t want any part of your shit,” he seethes, breath hot against your ear. Joel ignores your squirming and your moaning as he speaks, growling quiet insults. 

It feels good to feel bad. It feels good to be under Joel like this, untouched as he degrades you, shames you, humiliates you. Every one of of his words sets every one of your nerves on fire, and goes right to the place you need Joel the most, where he promises he will never fucking touch you. As he speaks, you writhe in pleasure, all of it created within yourself. 

“You always were a fuckin’ problem child, huh?”

You moan loudly, arching your back into Joel as you cum from his stinging words alone. You feel it deep in your guts, rolling down your thighs and up your torso, tingling in your fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m - fuck - I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean - oh my god.” 

Joel’s in over his head with you. He watches you cum like that, completely untouched and completely desperate for him. Sick fucking puppy. He doesn’t know what to do with you. 

if you enjoyed, please reblog ♡ i really really appreciate it.

[bemyluvr]

All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 - erectile dysfunction

pairing: jackson!joel x reader 

summary: joel overhears you on a shitty date and swoops in, taking you back to your place. he attempts to show you that older men do it best—until he can’t get it up. a couple days later and and a rash decision to raid his pill cabinet, joel knocks on your door with a belly full of blue pills, he finally gets to make it up to you

cw: 18+ MDNI, big ol’ age gap (not specified), oldman!joel, brief bad date, soft!joel, erectile dysfunction, reader has never been eaten out before, oral sex (f!receiving), viagra usage, guided touching, dry humping, couch sex, cowgirl position, belly bulge, raw sex, p n v, multiple orgasms, creampie

wc: 4.4k

a/n: game joel, show joel who cares! he’s old and yummy. this one goes out to the real old man fuckers.

Your dating life wasn’t anything special, the guys your age never took it seriously, most of them believed commitment wasn’t a necessity, the world so unsure and grim it was simply easier this way.

Of course you were understanding, the small pool of young men in Jackson were still figuring themselves out, and as were you—but they always ended up being too spontaneous and careless with their lives, and when one showed interest in you? They quickly wore your patients thin, showing no interest in truly getting to know you, taking you out as an excuse to get in your pants.

You began to give up on having any sense of hope, realizing there’s probably not going to be any chance of a budding romance happening for you any time soon, hoping maybe someone new will walk into Jackson and sweep you off your feet.

But you decided to give it one last shot in the dark, going on a last-minute date with a guy you’ve seen around town, not knowing much about him besides the fact he was a patrolman, and that piqued your interest.

Maybe this time he’d finally be something different, a dangerous job is bound to make him grow up quickly right? But you quickly realized he was just like the rest of them as you sat in a torn-up booth at The Tipsy Bison, sipping your fruity drink.

He talked and talked,only about himself of course, as you began to zone out, bored out of your mind and beginning to twirling your straw between your fingers, sitting there trying your hardest not to fall asleep.

After a rather crude joke slipped from his mouth, he finally got your attention as you looked up at him in disgust, standing up from the leather seat.

You attempted to not make a large scene as you politely excused yourself to the restroom, locking yourself inside until your date got the message, and went home.

Peaking around the corner, you were met with your table finally empty, sighing in relief as you walked over to the bar, ordering another drink. You quickly brought it back to the booth, sitting back down, this time all alone.

That was until you saw two large boots stepping towards you in your peripheral vision, his rough yet gentle voice causing you to look up in his direction.

“Rough night?” He questions, his eyebrow raising slightly as he stands above you, with a drink in hand.

He’s a lot older than you expected, his salt and pepper hair reflects against the warm hues of the dim lighting, his deep brown eyes are adorned with faint lines of crows feet, he’s gruff—and you can’t stop staring.

“You could say that.” You respond, the words quickly falling off your lips.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asks, placing his hand against the worn wooden frame of the booth.

“Go right ahead sir.”

“Don’t call me that, names Joel.” He says, shaking his head as he extends a hand out to you.

You stare at his hand, eyes tracing each faint scar against his knuckles, your gaze fluttering back into his eyes, feeling as if you recognize him from around town.

He was good looking and quite reserved, always keeping to himself and his family. You were surprised he was talking to you, not being able to recall if you’ve ever heard the man even utter a sound, let alone talk like this, especially to a woman like you.

You felt like the night was still young, and the drink you're currently nursing gave you the courage to welcome him into your bubble, taking his hand in yours, feeling the callouses on his palm as it encapsulates your own in a surprisingly soft grip.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Joel.”

The conversation quickly picked up, the two of you talking late into the night, the usually lively bar turned quiet, as the two of you were in a deep conversation, the only patrons left in the building. The sound of rags on tables replaced the roaring music letting you know the bar was getting ready to close for the evening.

You learned about Joel, he was old, much older than you, and it showed in the way he confidentially carried the conversation. He carefully listened to you, asking questions about yourself. With him, he showed you exactly who he was, and it gave you butterflies in your stomach, an unusual feeling as of late, and it was clear he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

He offered to walk you home, the true classic southern way, and you knew exactly what you got yourself into as you walked slowly down your drive way, grabbing him by the collar on his jacket and crashing your lips into his, fumbling with the keys to your house as he kissed down your neck.

Falling into the unlocked house he takes control, gripping your cheeks with his hands, feeling his calloused fingertips fit snug against the soft skin of your face as he places his lips back on yours.

You try to relax into the kiss, but it was clumsy, feeling his teeth clack against yours as you giggled, deepening the kiss. His lips tasted like mint and whisky—it was so him, you thought, feeling yourself growing addicted to the taste.

He was much different than anything you’ve ever experienced, he was slower and more intentional. Everything around you paused, the uncertain world feeling much safer with his lips on yours.

His hand falls down from your face, gently tugging your jacket off of your body. You help him take it off, shrugging your shoulders as you hear it slouch onto the wooden flooring. Bringing your hand up to his hair, you rake your nails against the nape of his neck, your touch causing him to shiver against your mouth.

Joel runs his hands up your back, feeling your warm skin through your dress as his hand falls to the small of your waist, expertly squeezing the curve of your hip, feeling yourself arch into his touch.

“Bedroom. Where’s. it. At?” Joel asks in between kisses, as it would be painful to take his mouth of yours.

You just hum, feeling his tongue swipe over your bottom lip, opening your mouth to allow him inside as you begin to move, walking backwards in the direction you hoped your room was in, feeling around for the open door frame.

He pushed you up against the wall, your head thudding as it hit the cold surface, but you don’t seem to mind, your skin feeling hot to the touch as Joel works you up.

You shy away from his mouth, peppering kisses down the side of his jaw, going lower to the soft spot behind his ear, placing your teeth against his flesh, causing him to grunt.

“You’re trouble honey.”

Humming in response, you continue to lick down his skin, as your mouth travels deeper, attaching your lips to his neck. You plant kisses along the stubbly skin, licking his adam’s apple as he swallows heavily, the sound filling up the room. You're close enough that you can feel his heartbeat thudding inside his throat.

You rake your palms down his chest, your finger tips ghosting the hem of his flannel as you wiggle your hands underneath, running them along his bare hairy chest.

“Want you so bad.” You admit, feeling his soft stomach clench against your digits.

“Take it, you got me.”

You smirk, brining your hands down to his belt, popping it open with a clank as you put your hand down against his crotch, but to your surprise—he isn’t hard.

Joel looks down at your hand, placing a hand over yours and squeezes, but to no avail, he can’t seem to get the blood to rush down to his cock.

“Feels so good, just-shit! Don’t know why this is happenin’ right now.” He cursed, furring his eyebrows as you look up at him.

You feel bad.

Terrible even.

You finally get the chance to get laid by a nice man but it’s ruined, feeling your stomach sink.

You know he must feel worse than you do as you stand there in silence, feeling him take your hand down to palm at his limp cock.

Of course you aren’t offended, you know how badly he wants you, and this is an unfortunate part of life, getting older has its challenges, especially for a man of his age.

Desperately, you begin to racket off ideas in your mind, maybe if you keep going he can get hard or maybe you could suck him off while he’s soft, as you begin to babble, “hey it’s okay, do you think maybe-”

“Haven’t done this in awhile honey, it’s been years.” Joel blurts out, cutting you off, “fuck darlin’ ‘m so sorry, lemme make it up to ya, can still make you feel good.”

“That sounds great, I'm not mad, promise.”

You watch as he lets go of your hand and slowly takes a step back, rubbing his hand over his face, his fingers scratching over his beard.

You attempt to keep the momentum going, distracting him from his unfortunate situation as you slip the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts as you let it flow off your shoulders and down onto your waist.

Choosing to go without a bra tonight, your nipples instantly pebble at the exposure, as you bring your hand up to yourself, gently massaging the flesh.

“Still want you to touch me Joel,” you whisper, your voice breathless as you pinch your nipple with your fingers. Sighing, you throw your head back, feeling your hair tickle between your shoulder blades.

He watches you hungrily, the light coming back into his eyes as he eagerly swipes his tongue over his lips.

You continue to strip your dress off, shimming it around your hips until it drops to the floor, leaving you in your lace panties.

“If I was younger, hell-the things I want to do to ya right now.”

Your actions cause Joel to finally step forward, a guttural noise coming from the back of his throat as he places a warm hand back onto your body, gently tracing your arm up towards your neck.

You lean into his touch, your lips mumbling so close to him he can barely hear you audibly whisper, “show me.”

Joel grabs you by the neck bringing you into another kiss, this time it’s filled with want. The desperate need to show you how you make him feel. Even if he can’t fuck you properly tonight, he needs to prove to you something, that he can pleasure you better than anyone else could.

His hands snake behind your back, guiding your body over towards the bed, placing his knees roughly against yours, causing you to fall back against the mattress, the comforter fluffing around your frame as Joel crawls on top of you.

He latches his mouth around your nipple, his beard tickling the skin as he swirls his tongue around the bud, feeling you arch into his touch. He pinches the neglected one in his hand, massaging the flesh as he continues his way down your frame. Leaving sloppy loud kisses down the skin, a faint trail of spit pooling on your belly.

You feel your breath pick up, the breathtaking view of Joel worshiping your body turning you on more than you thought was humanly possible.

“Can I taste you?” Joel asks, his voice shaking with want as he peers up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips swollen.

“Do you want to? No one's ever asked.” You admit, trying to hold his gaze, but you feel ashamed, staring up into the popcorn ceiling.

“You messin’ with me?”

The look in your reddened face is his answer as he scoffs, “course I want to honey, you deserve to feel good.”

“Okay.” You whisper, pulling your eyes back down to him.

Joel takes one more look at you, searching for any sign of regret, when he sees none, just your wide eye gaze staring back at him, a sheepish smile plastered on your face—he continues, kissing the skin above the waistband of your panties, and begins to pull them down slowly, his hands skimming your thighs.

You eagerly help, wiggling your panties off to your feet, kicking them off and onto the floor. By the time the air hits your freshly uncovered cunt, the feeling of shame creeps through you, feeling self conscious that he’s looking at you so closely, you suddenly slam your legs shut, clasping your knees together tightly.

Joel notices the hesitation, bringing a hand up to your knee, “nuh-uh pretty, lemme me see ya.”

You reluctantly pry your legs apart, staring a hole into the ceiling as your stomach drops, expecting him to pull away from you, but his words prove you wrong.

“There she is-shit, so perfect honey.” He growls, staring deeply into your cunt, like it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He takes your ankle in his hand, rubbing small circles into the skin as you listen to his praises, relaxing deeper into his touch.

His lips hover inches away from where you need him the most, and you squirm, feeling antsy as you can feel his warm breath against your core, with each exhale from his nose, it tickling the delicate skin.

“Please, need you.”

Joel doesn’t budge and it begins to drive you crazy, wiggling around in his grasp as the wetness from your cunt runs down and coats your thighs.

Joel groans, watching the glistening liquid leak from you as he takes his tongue and rakes it up your inner thigh. You cry out as he cleans you up, throwing your head back onto the pillows, his tongue so close to your cunt it drives you crazy, as Joel savors your taste on his tongue.

“Look at me darlin’ gotta see ya.”

Your eyes flutter open as you stare down at him, your cheeks are flushed, the light from the hallway flickering onto your features. He can see the rise and fall of your chest, with each breath from your opened mouth, swollen, red and bruised, all from his own doing.

Joel couldn’t believe his luck, not remembering the last time he’s had a woman laid out like this, the world he’s been used to for years has been all about survival but now, he finally gets to relax, the mental picture of you burning into the back of mind with hopes to never forget it.

“So pretty, don’t know what that little boy at the bar was thinkin’.”

Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond, attaching his mouth up to your cunt, licking a fat stripe all the way up to your clit, his tongue flat and certain, keeping even pressure against your pussy.

You cry out, arching your back as you grip the sheets, the action stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

He laps up your wetness, the squelching filling the room as he moans into your cunt, the vibrations of his lips causing your clit to pulsate.

He lifts his head for a moment, quickly licking you off his lips hungrily as he adjusts your legs, bringing them around his shoulders.

His hands gripped each side of you, holding the fat of your hips snug against his fingers as he rocked your hips back and forth on his face, your juices coating his beard.

Joel forces you deeper into his face, gently riding him as his tongue circles your clit, feeling your orgasm approach but he doesn’t hold back, slipping two fingers into your cunt, the wetness swallowing them whole.

“Gonna cum, please,right there-fuck.” You cry, cursing loudly as he flicks his fingers into your g-spot.

Joel is just as loud as you are, grunting and groaning into your cunt, drunk off the taste of your essence, each noise vibrating deliciously against your clit.

His fingers speed up, and you feel like you can’t breathe, throwing your head back and your orgasm crashes through you like a wave, drowning out the world as Joel continues eating you out, riding out your orgasm.

He makes you cum multiple times that night, feeling like you deserve it. By the time he’s done you're exhausted, hair sticking to your forehead and cunt swollen, he pulls your exhausted body into the sheets, kissing your forehead mumbling about how he will make it up to you—but you feel like he already has, as you begin to drift off to sleep, not bothering to walk him out the door.

The days go by in a blur, wondering when you will finally hear back from him but you don’t complain, after all you had just met the man, and he doesn’t owe you anything. You wonder if maybe he got in over his head about his manhood, and you really hope that’s not the case, wishing to see him soon.

Laying with your knees tucked under yourself, you're halfway finished with the newest book you’re reading, and that’s when you hear it. Three loud knocks pound heavily against your front door, the sound of each vibration shaking the framed photos on the wall.

You quickly sit up from the couch, your heart in your throat as you stare at the reflection of the person standing on the doorstep, their shadow reflecting through the open blinds.

Opening the door slightly, you finally see him, Joel’s finally back at your door, wrapped in a thick winter jacket, his warm breath fogging through the cold late night air. He’s the only person outside, and you're thankful you left your front porch light on.

“Hey, I know it’s real late, but I've been thinking,” he pauses, stepping forward. “thinkin’ about you.”

You open the door the rest of the way, shivering at the cold air that bushes through the new opening, “come in.”

You felt underdressed, your nipples hardening through your thin nightgown as you led Joel to the living room, offering to take his jacket, and showing him a place to sit. You can feel his eyes on your thighs as you step, the flimsy material riding up as you walk to the kitchen.

Grabbing two glasses and a half-empty bottle of whisky, you quickly join him on the worn brown couch, the leather peeled and cracked crinkles around you as you sit down, your bare knee hitting his clothed one as you begin to fill the jars.

“Fear I gave off the wrong impression the other day, when, you know.” Joel gestures to himself, reaching for the glass.

You feel sympathy for him, hoping he’s not beating himself up over all this. “I didn’t see it that way, not at all.”

“You didn’t?” He prys, his expression shocked.

“Wasn’t on purpose right? Things like that always happen when you least expect it.”

“And about that night,” don’t want ya to think I was usin’ you. Wanna take ya out, treat you right.”

You blush at his advertness, feeling good that someone actually likes you, and they truly want to spend time with you, feeling themselves shift closer to him.

“Watching you at the bar...with that boy, darlin’ I couldn’t believe it. Somethin’ as pretty as you deserves it all, even when I don’t got it.”

“I think you still have it Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Respectful, handsome.” You say, beginning to list things off, raking your hand into the silver hair around his ear. “Can hold a damn good conversation. Can make a girl cum using your mouth.” Your hand pauses, hearing his breath hitch. “Yeah, I’d say you really got it.” You whisper, your face painfully close to his.

“Shit, can’t say things like that when you're touching me ‘n wearin’ that tiny gown.” He says, his eyes raking in your form, the nightgown so sheer, he can see the swell of your breasts and the outline of your nipples.

Joel moves his head into your hand, kissing your fingertips as he brings his hand to yours, lowering it down to the front of him. Feeling the scratchy denim on your palm as pushes his hips up into your hand and to your delighted suprise—you can feel the swell of his hard cock against your hand.

You gasp, feeling him use your hand to rub him through his jeans.

“Wasn’t planning on this tonight, but I took somethin’ just in case. Wanted to be ready for ya.” Joel sighs, his voice like honey in your ears, each word filled with the desperate need for you and you mewl, pushing closer to his body, feeling the warmth radiate off his skin.

He releases your hand, sitting up slightly to grab you by the hip, placing you into his lap. Your panties are thin enough that you can feel him through them, his dick twitching at the weight of your body on top of him.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say shyly, adjusting your hips, feeling your knees dig into the leather couch.

Joel brings his face up to your neck, his lips ghosting the soft flesh, as his voice drops into a whisper. “You're right, I didn’t. But shit, the way you felt around my tongue, knew you’d feel like heaven ‘round my cock.”

His dirty admission makes you wither, feeling like puddy in his lap as you push your cunt onto him, accidentally grinding your hips into his. You feel his zipper smush against your cunt, the cold metal touching you through the thin fabric. Joel groans, bucking his hips into yours as his hands fly down to grip each side of your waist, pushing you down harder onto him.

“Fuck, do that again honey.” He grunts out, and you listen, cautiously rolling your hips again, a breathless moan slipping from your open lips.

“Just like that, keep goin’, feels so good.” Joel moans, his voice strained as he tries to hold back himself from bucking into you again, wanting to feel you chase him.

You look into his eyes and nod, beginning to rapidly repeat the motion, feeling the wetness of your cunt seep into your panties, making the glide of your pussy slippery, the squelching mixes with your moans, filling the living room.

Joel presses his lips into yours, quickly swallowing the moans that fall from your lips, as he places a hand to the back of your neck, holding you in place, your body tight against his hips.

The pleasure quickly builds up in your core, each rough press of your hips rubs your clit and you begin to rut messily against him, desperately needing to cum.

Joel brings the hand from your hip up to your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material, groaning as your back arches in his touch.

“I’m gonna cum.” You cry, ripping your lips from his.

Joel pushes his face into your chest, breathing you in with each quick rise and fall of your chest. “Doin’ so good honey, cum for me.”

Your body begins to heat up, his words combine with the pleasure causing your orgasm to slam through you, gasping for air as your hips stutter against his, your movements stilling.

You fall into his neck, panting heavily as you recover from your orgasm. You feel him kiss your shoulder, and his hand rubbing softly against your back.

Pulling your head up you look down into his lap, seeing the boner that remains tucked inside of his soaked jeans.

“Joel, you didn’t get to cum, ‘n I want to feel you.”

“Yeah? Want me inside?” He questions, looking deep into your eyes.

“Please,” you plead, wanting him so bad you feel crazy.

You lean back against his thighs, giving him space as he brings his hand down to his waistband, unbuttoning himself and quickly releasing his hard cock.

When he pulls his cock out, the head springs up to his soft belly, the tip red and angry, dripping globs of precum—and it's big, much bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, feeling your mouth begin to water.

You waste no time, pulling your soaked panties to the side as you lift your hips up, letting him guide his cock to your folds.

“Shit, so wet.” He hisses, rubbing his cock in between your folds, coating his tip with your juices.

You wait impatiently as he teases you, the head occasionally hitting your sensitive clit, releasing a strangled whine from the back of your throat.

Joel finally pushes himself inside of you, the both of you moaning loudly as he watches where you two connect, the tip of his cock is engulfed easily by your slick folds as you begin to sink down.

Placing your hand firmly on his thigh, you slowly begin to rock against him, feeling the way his tip rubs inside of you and you need more, pressing your hips farther down to take him fully.

You hiss as he stretches your cunt, the burn between your legs causing your thighs to shake as your ass becomes flush against him.

“Fuck, look at you taking it.” Joel grunts, pressing his hand to your belly, feeling you full with his member.

You begin to set the pace, your ass clapping roughly against him as you come down hard on his cock, feeling it repeatedly hit your g-spot as you get lost in the feeling.

“Joel ‘m close.” You cry, your orgasm sneaking up on you fast, and you can tell he’s close, feeling his cock twitching inside of you.

“Yeah? Shit, want to feel it honey. Take it, it’s yours.”

Rolling your hips into him, his pubes rub against your clit and your second orgasm overcomes you, your body becoming limp against him as he bucks his hips roughly into you, coming right behind you.

You're so exhausted, having no other choice than to take him, feeling his cum shoot up deep inside of your folds, coating your insides.

You’ve been waiting on this all week, to finally feel Joel’s cock inside of you as you clench at the thought. You’re finally full of him, your cunt squeezing him for all he’s got, milking him dry.

The two of you sit there panting, both coming down from your highs, as your skin starts to stick together.

“How many more of those pills do you have?” You ask bluntly, the words fallling from your sleepy fucked out body.

Joel chuckles in your hair, giving you the answer you hoped for.

“Got a full bottle at home darlin’.”

.⋆♱kinktober taglist: @martuxduckling @joelmillerswifey @kotterisanna @xodilfluvr @pedrofan @tomtohee @arxia-8 @millers-girl555 @tendertulip @mxxny-lupin @myst3rydoll @njdluvr @iluvdilfsmorethanu @newsfl6sh @ashleyfilm

if you'd like be added, please lmk!!

[cherrygourds]

A Hashira's Duty (Sanemi x Reader)

He knew it was wrong, it was so wrong, but hearing you make desperate noises like that, what else was he supposed to do?

A shaking hand slipped into his pants, and Sanemi gave up on denying himself any longer.

Or in other words, Sanemi accidentally hears you masturbating in your room after getting lost in an inn and he can't help himself.

Sanemi cursed whatever holy being gave him ears that could hear. 

An almost unnoticeable noise echoed down the hallway he definitely wasn’t supposed to be in

No, scratch that, he cursed whatever holy being gave you a mouth that could make such noises. 

It wasn’t like Master Ubuyashiki to send Sanemi on group missions with normal demon slayers– he was a Hashira for Christ’s sake, but Sanemi was also a man and unfortunately he was a man with working eyes and ears and a terrible sense of direction.

Another quiet, muffled noise nearly sent him bursting through the nearest window to escape this hell.

You were an above-average slayer. Maybe not Hashira-levels of skills right now, but with some polish, you could certainly do some major damage in battle.

While it was your skills that originally caught Sanemi’s attention, it was your looks that kept it. He felt dirty, glancing at your plump thighs whenever your skirt flew up in combat, ripping his eyes away from your torn shirt after a particularly fierce demon attack, and right now, he wanted to jam his fingers in his ears until he went deaf. Your noises of obvious sensual activity both sent him to the moon and caused his reality to slam back down to Earth.

He didn’t mean to come to this isolated side of the inn, honestly. He was in the midst of turning every which way trying to find his own room when your featherlight moan glued his feet to the ground.

Wherever the hell he wound up in this maze of an inn, it was way too fucking close to you.

Against his better judgement, Sanemi crept closer. 

Chivalry be damned, the throbbing bulge in his pants might kill him before he has the chance to do it himself.

He knew it was wrong, it was so wrong, but hearing you make desperate noises like that, what else was he supposed to do?

A shaking hand slipped into his pants, and Sanemi gave up on denying himself any longer.

You always thought the Wind Hashira was cute, despite his violent personality.

Maybe it was his rugged scars, or his ripped abs, or his piercing glare– no, no, you couldn’t lie to yourself. It was that damn smile.

Hearing horror stories about his temper, you did everything in your power to stay out of Sanemi’s way in battle. He came barreling through with fatal precision, confidence never wavering, and you certainly didn’t want to be the dumbass demon slayer that got in the way of his sword and disrupted his flow. So, like a loyal demon slayer, you protected the Hashira from a distance and let him do his thing.

A particularly harsh blow sent you flying across the battlefield. Taking no time to examine your surroundings, a sword swiped in your peripheral vision before you took the lead and cut off the incoming demon’s head instead.

You turned to thank whoever was about to defend you, and unexpectedly came face to face with the grumpy Wind Hashira. Prepared for the worst after almost stumbling into him, you could only dumbfoundedly stare when Sanemi smirked at you instead.

“Nice hit,” he said, voice somewhat gravely from yelling commands.

Thankfully, the onslaught of demons continued and you didn’t have to sit there and blush like an idiot while trying to come up with a response.

That was mere hours ago, but the fingers stroking your clit twitched when you remembered just how gorgeous Sanemi looked in that moment.

You bit your lip hard enough to bleed, desperately trying to stop your soft noises from spilling out, but you damn near screamed when the smell of ohagi entered your nose.

From the few times you had been close to the Wind Hashira, the unmistakable scent of ohagi always clung to his figure. You thought it was adorable that a tough guy like him liked a dessert enough to smell like it on a regular basis, but smelling that scent now was almost mortifying.

Almost.

Most normal people would stop masturbating if they thought their crush was just around the corner and could hear them at any time, but for you, it was tantalizingly intriguing. So, against your better judgement, your fingers only picked up speed.

Damned if he heard you, damned if he didn’t.

Sanemi pumped his dick, praying to every god he could remember that someday it would be your hand down there instead of his.

The image of your lips wrapped around his thick cock nearly sent him spiraling, your messy noises that he swore got louder reminded him of the reality of the situation.

Sanemi wasn’t a very vocal person during these… private moments, especially when it was just him tending to himself, but hearing you had him biting back more grunts than he cared to admit. 

The scent of ohagi never faded, but it also never came closer, you realized. Was the Wind Hashira secretly a pervert? Did he enjoy listening to you get yourself off? Well, if you were going to have an audience, you might as well give him a show.

Sweat beaded on Sanemi’s forehead. Jerking off quietly was no easy task, nor was trying to keep his voice silent, but he nearly crumpled to the ground when he heard a new noise.

The noise couldn’t have been much louder than your previous senseless moans, but hearing his name– his given name– desperately spill from your lips did irreparable damage to the current circumstances.

You were playing a dangerous game and you knew it, but if you were already taking it this far, then surely calling out his name, a silent invitation, while you desperately chased release couldn’t be that much worse. 

Two fingers plunged into your entrance while your thumb prodded your clit, Sanemi’s name flowed out of your throat like a mantra.

The Wind Hashira was probably gripping his erect cock hard enough to do damage if he wasn’t careful, but the way his name sounded on your voice was almost too much for him to handle. 

His hand picked up speed, he no longer cared if his ministrations made noise, his dick was begging for a release he was all too eager to chase

Images of that genuine smirk teased your vision, egging on your body to crave Sanemi’s touch. Sure, you could get yourself off just fine, but what if it was his fingers plunging into you? His digits hitting your clit over and over again? The man was stunning already, but Sanemi between your thighs sounded like it would be downright beautiful.

Your name escaped his lips this time. In a different world, living a different life, and under different circumstances, Sanemi would burst through that door and fuck you stupid, but unfortunately in this world, in this life, and in these circumstances, he was a Hashira.

You felt your legs twitch to rush to the door and drag Sanemi inside when you heard him moan your name. Surely he knew what you both were up to by now.

A Hashira, whose fame and glory went unrecognised outside of the Demon Slayer Corps, had a sworn duty to protect the defenseless above all else. Inviting a relationship, or any sort of strong attachment, really, was bound to cause a conflict of interest.

All Sanemi was interested in right now was pounding into your pussy like there was no tomorrow. His cock ached as a familiar feeling spread up his shaft.

Goosebumps fluttered across your skin, waves of near release rolled over your entire being. What gives? Was there truly such a man that preferred to get himself off instead of another? You couldn’t be any more obvious that you knew he was there and how badly you wanted him.

Sanemi cursed. God, why couldn’t you be a Hashira too? At least then he could flee to your mansion every night and bury himself in your warm folds. At least then Sanemi wouldn’t be forced to desperately pump his dick at the mere sound of you masterbating. To be rendered to such a state was despicable, but fuck, he needed this.

His movements became irregular, hands stuttering as approaching pleasure tingled across his body.

Sweat coated your every limb. Maybe you were being too forward? No, that couldn’t be it. Hell, here you two were getting off at the sound of each other masturbating. Maybe he’d be up for a round two after this?

Your concerns were interrupted by your own voice, volume now uncontrollably loud, as you finally felt your orgasm take over. Sanemi’s name left your lips at a dangerous volume.

Sanemi couldn’t take it anymore when he heard you cry out his name loud enough to grab the attention of a few other inn guests. 

His own sticky release covered the inside of his pants, your name sounding out at an equally dangerous level.

He knew that you knew he was there and you knew that he knew that you just came to the sound of him jerking off. What a mess.

Rising on shaky legs, you clambered to the door of your room. Protocol, hierarchy, or whatever the fuck be damned, you wanted Sanemi. You needed Sanemi.

Instead of the Wind Hashira, however, an empty hallway greeted your vision.

Your soft pants sounded through the lonely space, trying to steady your breathing. The smell of ohagi was still present but not as prevalent as it was just a few seconds ago.

Insurmountable disappointment colored your features, but you weren’t going to chase down a man that didn’t want to be sought after. 

Regrettably, you closed the door to your room, reentering the space by your lonesome self.

Sanemi rushed to catch his breath, just barely making it around the nearest corner before your door flew open. He knew he’d regret this, he already was, but he was a Hashira, and a Hashira had a sworn duty to uphold.

For the second time this night, Sanemi cursed whatever holy being gave him ears that could hear, eyes that could see, and demons that would make it so his duties always came before his own interests.

Hope you all enjoyed :)

(Note: This is cross-posted from my ao3 @/CherryGourds)

[leonsgfpost]

KINKTOBER 2025

day three: Just the tip.

Synopsis: Your boyfriend has a little problem, he doesn't keep his promises!

tags: Leon (RE2) x Fem!User, established relationship, Leon being a horny guy, 'just the tip', light dubcon, some cum play, unprotected sex, creampie and more!

The plan was simple. Leon, you, and a rented tape to watch on your boyfriend's old player. Nothing complicated.

But for Leon, it's beyond complicated. Because ever since you started your relationship, he can't keep his hands to himself. It's like they have a life of their own, always traveling from your waist to your butt, or from your butt to your back. But he always had his hands on you.

And now, as you lay on his chest, your attention glued to the movie, Leon could barely concentrate as he felt the third consecutive throb in his dick that night. He felt like a complete loser, getting hard from inhaling your perfume or feeling the heat of your body. He was going crazy.

He started subtly, caressing your butt like he usually did. Then his lips started leaving small kisses on your cheeks, trying to get your attention.

"Leon, the movie." You groaned distractedly, too focused on how the girl in the movie was running away from her masked stalker. A crappy movie, according to Leon.

"I'm not doing anything, hone." he stated, feigning innocence. His hands kneaded the tender cheeks of your ass, pulling you closer to him. His breathing became heavier, leaving slower kisses on your skin. As if he wanted to devour you.

You sighed, knowing what he was like. But you let him keep going, because it was always entertaining to watch him try to get his way. And after a few minutes, he buckled first.

"Princess." he murmured, his lips on your cheek. You let out a small hum, paying no attention. His fingers began to slide under the waistband of your shorts.

"Just a little? Come on, please." He said pleadingly, inhaling deeply through your hair. He'd never do anything to upset you, but he really wants to put it in. You two started fucking a few weeks ago, and he can't stop.

"But I'm watching the movie." You groaned lazily, but pressed yourself closer to him anyway, feeling the outline of his hard cock through his sleep pants. It was practically dripping inside his boxers.

"I'll do all the work, I promise... Just the tip." he suggested, desperate for your approval so he could get his hands on you. You looked at him for a few seconds before nodding, repeating his words. "Just the tip." you murmured, letting him settle you onto the couch, face up. The small screen illuminated Leon's apartment, along with the snacks left on the coffee table.

Your shorts and already wet panties were quickly slid aside by Leon's hands, his eyes fixed on your legs parting to reveal your pussy. His pussy, how he liked to think.

"Look at you, how delicious." He whispered to himself, leaning in to kiss your neck and ease his pants down, just enough for his proud cock to jump against his abdomen. He cupped it in his hand to guide it toward your slick heat, moaning at the sensation.

He guided his tip against your clit, rubbing it gently just to hear you sigh. His lips traced your jaw, beginning to rub his dripping tip against your lips, dampened by your arousal.

"Ah, holy shit—" He groaned, spreading your legs wider with his hands to accommodate his cock at your entrance. Biting his lower lip as he pushed his thick tip past the first tight ring of your pussy, trying hard not to shove himself all the way in.

Your back arched slightly, causing his clouded gaze to rise to your flushed face and relaxed body, letting him use you just to watch a few more minutes of the damn movie.

"Baby, look at me... Here." He moaned in protest, gently grabbing your jaw to turn your face. When your gazes met, his hips began to move just enough to fuck you with just his tip.

Making sure your gaze was on him and nothing else, he moved his hands to lift your shirt over your breasts, automatically rubbing his thumbs against your hard nipples.

"You're so tight, fuck—ah." He groaned softly, still a little shy to try to say all the dirty things he thinks. His hands caressed your tits and moved down to your waist, bucking his hips a little faster.His tip thrust in and out, making both of you gasp. But he was dying to push all the way in, until your eyes rolled back. He was so lost in thought that he pushed a little more of his hard dick inside.

"You only said the tip—" You whined, clinging to his arms with a frown and pink cheeks. Ah, he loved that brat-like expression you wore.

"Y-You're right, sorry—princess." he apologized, not regretting it one bit.

He only gave you reason to let out those small moans and squeeze him harder, almost sucking his hard member completely in. His gaze was fixed on how half of his cock was now entering your tight hole, soaking in your arousal.

God, he wanted to fuck you silly so, so badly.

His thumb began to circle your clit, alternating between staring at your pretty, hot face and where his length was almost completely disappearing inside you.

But he kept his promise, just the tip. Just for now.

As his balls began to clench, demanding release, his thumb began to rub you faster. Your moans echoed in his ears, making his head spin as his hips began to pound into you, pushing his cock deeper and deeper.

"You'll...let me do it, won't you?" He asked sweetly, his breaths heavy. "I'll cum inside you, you'll like it, princess—" He promised, panting, pumping you as you came around him and sucked his dick in. He just took the opportunity; you wouldn't be mad at him, right?

Now his cock was filling you completely, thrusting frantically into you a few times before cumming deeply. His tip slammed all the way in, releasing a huge load just for you and your greedy pussy.

"Fuck, baby—ah,ah." He groaned shakily, covering you with his body and giving the last few thrusts.

"I love you, I'm so—" He babbled, his brain melting and mouth hanging open, his quivering dick still dripping.

When he pulled out, his cum oozed from your sensitive hole onto his couch, and the mere sight sent another surge of excitement through his half-hard cock. Again.

His fingers scooped some up, only to spread it all over your swollen pussy, staining you with his essence. He was a total freak.

"O-One more? And I'll leave you alone, please. I promise, hone—" He promised, still rubbing your sticky core and giving you those puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, it was like that. A puppy waiting for its favorite treat.

Third day done, woah! You can find more on my profile ᡣ𐭩

❀˖° kinktober materialist

Likes and comments are welcome ⋆𐙚 ̊.

(💌) bye, bye!

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

Buddy daddies was perfect. I love both the canon platonic marriage thing theyve got going on, and the potential for them to fall in love while raising miri! And miri just being happy the whole time... her dads always protected her, even through a literal falling out with the mafia... i just know that girl has some insane dad-lore moments when she grows up too

[nydascienceguy]

idc if he’s in his 50’s, that’s my man.

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bloody (Kishibe x Reader)

MDNI, SMUT, 18+ ONLY

Kishibe comes over to hook up at a less than opportune time. Too bad he's a total freak and doesn't care about getting a little messy.

wc: 4k ao3 Masterlist

you can buy me a Ko.fi here, if you like!

Warnings: BLOOD, PERIOD SEX, MENSTRUATION, cunnilingus, absolutely foul dirty talk, kissing, fingering, anal, getting really mystic when you're fucking (if you get it you get it), nipple play, a lot of discussion about consent. NASTY, SWEATY, DIRTY SMUT

“You think I’m put off by a little blood?” Kishibe clicks his tongue.

“It’s…weird? I don’t know?” You shifted under his gaze, your face heating up.

“We’re a bit past weird, don’t you think?” He inched closer, you leaned back trying to keep the space, “I’m covered in blood every day.”

“Not mine! And not…this, it’s different.” You whine again

“Exactly, I’ve had so much blood in my mouth and it's never been yours.” He was even closer now, pushing you against the back of the couch, hands not touching you, but lips and nose brushing along your neck making you shiver, “You think I can’t get my hands dirty?”

“Kishi—“

“Don’t you love to swallow my cum? My spit?” Finally his hands find your hips, sliding back to your ass and squeezing, “Or when I slide my tongue around your pretty asshole?”

You let out a small shaky moan, you couldn’t believe how nasty he was being. And he was usually filthy. 

“It’ll help the pain go away. It’s good for you.” He kisses right against the heartbeat in your neck making your eyes flutter.

“So you’re just tired of hearing me complain, huh?” You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, you were folding already.

“Mmhm” he teased, “wanna give you something else to whine about.”

His hands circled your aching hips, the pressure and heat of them already alleviating the dull pain.

“Kishi—“ your lip caught between your teeth, the trepidation inching further over your desire to give in.

“Come on, baby. Let me.” He asks again, moving his hands up your side, bringing your body right against his.

You moan again, every nerve in your body reaching out for him. He had dropped his coat at the door, his tie was folded on the kitchen counter, his shirt was already wrinkled when he had put it on this morning, but now it was half undone and completely disheveled. His body was warm, you could see the flush of desire creeping along his shoulder and neck under the collar.

“You’re so sensitive like this.” He whispered, maybe just to himself, he cupped one of your heavy, sore breasts,“I bet you taste so good. Let me.”

You pushed your chest into his hand, feeling your head fall back in ecstasy already. 

You hadn’t even asked him over tonight, he just showed up and found you crumpled on the couch under a sea of blankets whining about how much your body hurt. 

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, already taking off his coat and making his way to your liquor cabinet.

“I got hit by the menstruation devil.” You huffed, keeping your eyes on the flickering tv.

He chuckled, the bastard actually laughed, “oh you poor thing.” 

“What are you even doing here?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Suddenly I need an invitation?” he poured himself a glass from the wide, amber colored bottle, “What was it you said last night? ‘Cum inside. Cum inside Kishibe, please, cum inside.’”

He pitched his voice up to mock your whimpery fucked out tone and crossed over to the couch, taking a seat beside your blanketed form. His dark eyes scanned over the impression of your body nested in the covers. 

“There isn’t much I can do for you tonight, Kishi. If you’re just going to hang out here and drink the booze I paid for, then just pour yourself one to go.” You rolled your eyes, not sure what hurt worse your head or your lower stomach. 

“I like you better when you’re playing hostess.” He picked up your legs and dropped them in his lap. 

You groaned but turned over to lay on your back, the slight rise in your legs actually alleviating the pain in your uterus. You peek at him over the blanket covering your body, watching him sip on the drink he made with your liquor. He looked like he had a rough day, thank god his coat wasn’t in sight or you would be thinking about all the dust and debris and god knows what else that could be sinking into your couch cushions. He looked back over to you, surveying your flushed face, your knit together brows. A rare tenderness came over him. 

“You really feel shitty, huh?” He runs his hand up your leg, under the leg of your soft sweatpants. 

You nodded, “let's have an organ leak out of your body and see how you feel.” 

The asshole smiled again, “oh come on, Sugar. I’m trying to help.” 

You rolled your eyes as his hand smoothed further up your leg. If your body wasn’t so sensitive right now you would be kicking him out, but his hand on you felt so…sweet. Warm with the perfect amount of pressure, you wanted it higher, you wanted it pressing so deliciously on your aching, contracting womb. You thought back times where his hand had pressed right where you need him, right on your lower belly, pressing against himself deep inside of you, making your eyes roll back, making you squirt onto his pelvis as he fucked deeper into you. Fuck, the blankets were feeling too hot now. 

Reason took over, “No, you’re here to help yourself. I can’t fuck you right now, Kishibe.” 

“We don’t have to fuck. Just let me eat you out, it’ll help.” Your jaw fell open, you studied his face for any sign that he would break into laughter or swat at your thigh for even thinking he was being serious. 

But you found nothing, except for the burning glint in his eye full of hunger. 

“No!” You tried to pull your legs away, sitting up, but he caught your ankle as it left his lap and firmly, not painfully, kept it against his leg. 

“What? You love when I eat you out.” he gave a wicked smile, moving his thumb over the ball of your ankle. 

“But its…gross…I’m all bloody and I haven’t showered and---”

His throat gave a small groan, “I’m already sold, baby, you don’t have to convince me.”

“Kishibe---”

“You think I’m put off by a little blood?” He clicked his tongue. 

This was how he had brought you onto your back on the couch, him between your legs, hot, wet kisses moving over your neck. You couldn’t help it, you were anxious and put off by the idea, but you were so sensitive, so reactive, your body craved the release of being pleasured by him. And the idea that he would be disgusted, or that he was doing this begrudgingly was gone from your mind the moment you felt how hard he had become against your thigh. His blunt nails scratched from your hip to your knee, you shuddered and arched up for him. This allowed him space to move his arm under your waist and hold you closer to him, he loved you like this. Soft and pliant, reactive and aching for him.

“You know baby, If you hate it so much, I can make it go away for a little while. Few months at least.” He kissed up your jaw to the corner of your mouth. 

“As if,” you giggled, “No one wants a dad old enough to be their grandfather, it's far too confusing for a child. Especially when mommy’s not even close. What would the parent’s at the pick-up line say?”  

“You’re so considerate.” He teased, taking your mouth. 

He was an excellent kisser, had been since you first got together, well, likely before that, but you didn’t care to think about that much. His tongue was smart, mapping out your mouth, or retaining the memory of the layout. His kisses were overwhelming, they took your breath away, they brought you to that state of breathlessness where all you want to do is kiss him more, kiss him harder, explore him more, be taken over by him. He slid his hand up your body and under your t-shirt, taking one of your breasts in his palm, squeezing it firmly, making you gasp out. 

“Owww, Kishi be careful.” You whine, bottom lip between your teeth. 

He tuts, eyes looking over your desperate face, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You’re just…so sensitive…I can’t help myself when you make those pretty sounds for me.”

He squeezed again, just as hard, making you keen back. 

“My poor girl, it hurts, huh?” His voice is so thick, so coated in the dripping hunger to taste you at your most vulnerable. 

You nodded, giving him your softest doe eyes, hoping he would lighten up. Instead, he ducks his head down under your shirt and takes your peaked nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it, listening to you huff out pathetic whimpers of pleasure, before taking it between his teeth. You cry out, hands on his shoulders trying to push him off of you. He doesn't budge, you knew he wouldn’t, but your reflexes tried anyway. His arm around your waist kept you firmly in place against his mouth, which he opened to lap gently over the peak he had just abused. He didn’t care about your whimpers and protests, his mind had been completely overtaken by the desire. Every part of your body was calling to him, he could feel the heat coming from your core, the waves of humid pleasure laced with the untasted  

“Has anyone had you like this?” The smoke of his voice danced over the wet spots on your neck, making goosebumps appear despite the heat surrounding you both. 

You shook your head, he thought he would lose it in his pants right then and there. Your mussed hair, your sloppy, spit covered lips parted in a gasp. His hips rolled against the couch, the friction so delicious against his burning erection. 

“Saved it for me, huh?” He moved down your body on the couch. 

“Already forgetting you walked in here and practically begged me?” Your cheeks burning made it harder to be smug, but you tried your best. 

His fingers found the waistband of your sweatpants, rolling them down and off your legs, leaving you in a less than sexy pair of underpants. 

“Kishibe, wait.” You gripped his shoulder, “It’ll get on the couch.”

He swiped up the drool collecting on his lower lip, his black eyes frenzied. 

“Bed? Or I can put a towel down?” He huffs out, his breath heavy. 

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…” the embarrassment was getting the best of you, you started to sit up, until he pushed you back down. 

Looking over your body, only in a t-shirt and thin panties, he wouldn't let himself be denied. He was too close to his carnal desires. He wanted this for so long, not just with you, the idea had fascinated both his mind and his groin for as long as he could remember, the sensitivity, the taste, the primal call to him to devour his partner. And that was you now, so kind, so generous to him. You hadn’t denied him any whim of his, anything he had asked of you, you had catered to, you were so good to him. And he wanted this, your hesitancy stemmed from your own shame, not from lack of trust in him, so he was more than willing to push you beyond your limits. He stood from the couch, moving his arms under your knees and back to lift you into an easy bridal carry. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fighting to ignore the pain in your lower back, it felt nice to be carried by him, he was so strong and sturdy, he made you feel so cared for and tended to. Why shouldn’t you trust him to help you know? 

He carried you to your bed, dropping you somewhat unceremoniously into the mattress, moving to the en suite to retrieve a towel. He chose a light colored one, wanting to see the work as he made it, like a beautiful canvas waiting to be painted by his tongue and fingers. He spread it out flat under you, pulling you so that your hips were over the terrycloth. Your long, shapely legs exposed to him, knees bent, trying to keep them spread for him despite the nervousness flooding through your veins. Kishibe traced the back of his fingers from your ankle to your knee, his other hand opening his shirt and discarding it to the floor. His knees joined the garment at the edge of your bed, he pulled you closer to him on the towel. 

You sucked in a tight breath, this was far from the first time that he had eaten you out, in his own words it was his favorite meal, the one thing he craved at the end of long, tireless days of work. But usually you would both be in bed, you on your back with him laying between your legs, or him on his back with you sat on his face, riding that perfect nose under you soaked the pillowcase under him. Having him on his knees before you was new. He had never been so openly hungry for you, he had never begged you for something the way he had today. If you could even call that begging, it was about as close as Kishibe ever came. Being on his knees between your legs, looking right at your covered, dripping core waiting for you to tell him to begin. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get a chance like this again. 

You carded your fingers through his hair, watching his eyes flick up to yours. 

“You want to taste, baby?” You coo down to him. 

His eyebrows raised, amused, “mhm.”

“You walk in here, demanding to taste me, and you think you’ll just get what you want?”

He was growing tired of you trying to play dom, one hand pushed you down onto the bed, his long fingers splayed over your stomach, holding you down firmly. His other hand is pulling your sticky panties away from you. 

“I can have you however I want.” He groaned, the smell of your iron laced arousal hitting him, “You don’t deny me what's mine.” 

Your back arched against his hand, which held you so firmly in place. He tucked your soiled panties into his back pocket, a momento to honor his achievement. He parted your labia with his forefinger and thumb, taking in the sight of your messy folds. Soft gossamer strings of arousal parting and snapping as he opens you further. Your clit was twitching and swollen, soon he would kiss her better, make her feel cared for and tended to, but his eyes fell further to the woven white string peeking out from your hole. He wrapped it around his index finger and pulled, relishing in the small puff of air you exhale as he does. He tosses the tampon aside into the small trash can by your desk, not caring whether or not it makes it inside, too occupied with the sight before him. 

You were trembling on the bed, not wanting to look at him between your legs, you were past the point of no return. He released the hand on your stomach, using his thumbs to spread you open, watching your hole clench around nothing, small dribbles of blood and arousal slipping from you, down your vulva. He moved one thumb over your clitoris, circling it softly, looking up to see your chest rising and falling under your flimsy t-shirt, nipple poking through the thin fabric. 

“You’ve never let anyone taste you like this. See you so weak.” he marveled at how reactive you were, the slightest touch across your outer labia pushing more desperate fluid from your hole, the circles on your clit making you writhe on the bed, “She’s begging for me, baby. And you didn’t want me to help her. So unfair.” 

“Kishibe please.” you pant. 

“Oh now you want me to, after trying to make me beg for it, now you need my help.” He mocks, blowing a bit of cool air onto you that makes you clench even more. 

He slides his fingers up your slit, watching as the blood stains his fingertips, using the wetness to make his circles on your clit even smoother. 

“Please, Kishi, please, I’m sorry. Please help me feel better.” You whimpered, already feeling the anticipatory tears filling your eyes. 

Finally, finally he closes his eyes and leans forward running his long, flat tongue over your vulva, stimulating every part if only for a moment. You keen back on the bed, hands flying to his hair. You can’t believe he really did it, that you allowed him to, and how fucking incredible it felt. He was drunk, he had to be, the way his head became light, swimming and fuzzy. He laps again, tasting more of your bloody leaking cunt. He can’t help himself. He dives in further, tasting the rich iron, the sweet-salty wetness he was so familiar with, he had worn it in his mustache for days after your encounters, letting the smell waft in with his breath, not wanting to be parted from you. Sure, that probably made him a massive pervert, but he was a massive pervert. He had your panties in his back pocket and your blood in his mouth, lips closed over your pulsing begging clit. If this was the life that being a total freak allotted him, then great. 

His tongue pushed into your hole, your tight, swollen muscles quivered around it. He wanted more, he wanted to taste more of you, he didn’t want any of it to go to waste. Kishibe licked at the space between your holes, catching the stray blood that had tried to escape him. He couldn’t hear you moaning on the bed, he couldn't see the way your jaw was hung open permanently in a pathetic silent scream, he didn’t care. He needed more. He pushed two of his fingers inside of you, not caring to make it slow. He carried on, watching as your lubricant moved from a clear pink to a full dark red around him. He scissored his fingers open, watching the thin spread of cum and blood hold itself together until they couldn't anymore and it popped like a bubble. 

“Fuck, fuck baby you’re filthy.” He was mesmerized. 

“It's so good, Kishibe, please don’t stop. Fuck, please.” You panted above him, your voice finally breaking through the whirr of noise that filled his frenzied ears. 

He pumped his fingers harder, watching the blood trickle down the back of his hand, catching and coloring the wrinkles and divots, it was beautiful. It was creating its over vascular network over his own skin, your blood mapping out his own, separated by a thin layer of skin. He pulled his fingers from you, much to your dismay, and studied the way your blood had given him color, made his tan skin red. He watched as it dripped from him onto the towel, which had taken on quite a bit of your blood and cum. It was a splotchy mess, he wiped his fingers across the mess, leaving a streak behind. He mourned the loss of the crimson nectar he coveted so much, but the sight was just too much to be without. 

You pulled at his hair and his shoulder, once again he didn’t even budge. 

“Kishibe, please. Please, please, make me cum, please.” you begged, you needed him so bad, you needed his tongue, his fingers, his endurance, him. 

He was nothing if not thorough, so without further pressure he dove back in. Now completely consumed by the fever burning through him. He slurped and kissed, sucked and lapped at your bloody cunt. He hadn’t even touched himself yet, but a mess of his own was seeping through the fabric of his pants. He could feel the cooling precum against his thigh, against the shaft of his pulsing, aching cock, growing sticky against his skin, staining his work pants. He felt like he was eating you whole. Hell, you felt like he was eating you whole. You felt like when this was done you wouldn’t remain, nothing would be left of you. You would be taken in completely by him. And you wouldn’t mind it, you felt so connected to him, like an extension of him. His tongue inside of you felt so natural, it made you complete. It made you whole. His fingers inside of you, prodding at your most sensitive, swollen sex, made you see stars--no, you saw the cosmos. The whole galaxy had aligned perfectly to bring the bundle of stardust that now inhabited your body together with the stardust that now inhabited him. You didn’t believe in God, you had seen and experienced too much to believe in something so divine. But this had converted you into believing that something, something beyond human that was working to keep his mouth and body fused to yours in delicious stasis until the end of time. 

Your pontification had brought you to the point of releasing erratic spurts of squirt adding to the mess building underneath you, only the parts that weren’t caught by Kishibe’s desperate mouth. He was in the same cosmically induced haze that you were imagining the plants that would be formed by your one day decaying bodies, the animals that would feast on your botanical bodies and decay there themselves. He tasted the whole of time in your oozing, bloody cunt. He pumped his fingers faster, bringing them to his mouth and back into you over and over again. 

He couldn’t stop, not even when your thighs clamped over his ears. Not when your hips bucked up, his free hand shot forward, keeping you pinned to the bed, only able to writhe against his grip and take it. 

You cried out his first name in pleasure shaking the apartment walls, surely alerting your neighbors. Fat tears slipped from your eyes, you dug your nails into the forearm attached to the hand that held you down. He moaned against you, slurping down everything you gave him. Keeping his tongue and fingers moving through your climax, taking you back down piece by piece. You panted, the combined oversensitivity making you tremble and shake, trying desperately to push his head away. It wasn’t until you pulled him off by his hair did you find solace. But not for long, once his head wasn’t buried in between your legs, you could take in the effects of his work visually. The dark red blood on his lips, collecting in the corners of his mouth, dripping down his jaw and neck, speckling through the pinpricks of his stubble. Panting, blood wet mouth, dark eyes lidded and hungry. You sat up, with a shaking core, to marvel at the beautiful sight of him sullied before you. His skilled, exhausted tongue swiped at his lower lip, trying to catch as much as he could reach. Finally his eyes opened all the way, looking over the mess under your hips, the visible tremor in your stomach, the rise and fall of your chest. He rose from the edge of the bed, moving off his knees, and crawling to cover your body with his. Your eyes and his both scrambled to capture and memorize every inch of each other. He lens down to kiss you, but you cower away. 

“Kiss me.” His brow crinkles and his eyes narrow. 

“Kishibe…” Your brow crinkles right back, he grabs your face in his bloody hand, squeezing your cheeks and pressing your pouted lips to his. 

You cringed at the slimy feeling against your lips, the metallic taste coating his tongue and now filling your mouth. He kissed you hard, with the same intensity and passion he had used lower on you just moments ago. Eventually the shock of the cloying taste wore off and the decadence of the kiss took over, the sparkly feeling of being fated with him returned. Finally he released your mouth, giving you another quick kiss before moving off of you. 

“Cigarette?” You sat up on shaky hands. 

“Think I would get rid of the taste I worked so hard for?” Kishibe chuckled and rolled his eyes. 

You admired him for a moment, his strong body, stretching and moving. He finally leant over the bed and moved your legs off the towel. 

“I’m keeping this.” 

“You’re such a freak.” You roll onto your side, moving carefully to get off the bed before Kishibe stops you. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up, don’t move.” The look in his eyes was soft, and rare. 

He did clean you up, and when you got up to use the bathroom, he joined you to clean himself up. And once you were both clean he finally shed his pants and joined you in bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.  

“Don’t you want to…?” You questioned, running your hand down his torso toward his neglected cock. 

“What you haven’t had enough yet?” he kissed the side of your head. 

You smiled flirtatiously, rolling over to kiss him, “Never.”

I hope you enjoyed my wonderful friends!!!!! And i hope you don't think less of me for this lol. I hope this can get you through your period, like writing it helped me get through mine! May we all be blessed with our very own bloody munch. -- Doodle. XX