hii cutie

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ basically i post alot of random stuff multi fandom 🇲🇽🇬🇹

[jiimeniita]

[zzankapilled]

sum. after defending you in front of others, you show him how much it means to you when you get back to his room

ᐟᐟ☆ cw. pre-established relationship, bulge worship, scent kink, humping, kissing, mild cumplay, mild overstim, everyone is 20+, mdni

ᐟᐟ☆ wc. 4.1k

ᐟᐟ☆ an. maybe this kind of sucks but I’m bored of working on it and ready to move on 🙏🙏

The door shuts behind you with a dull click.

Finally.

No more chatter, no more pretenses.

The staff is placed by the wall before he immediately begins toeing off his shoes.

The room is barely large enough for the bed, desk, and battered dresser shoved into the corner. On it is a simple wooden incense holder filled with powdered ashes as testament to the faint redolent fragrance mixed with the usual dustiness that hangs in the air.

Your mind is still on what happened out there.

It's no secret that you're average.

Maybe it sticks out even more in a HQ full of child prodigies—being new to the whole cleaning thing does that for you.

And somehow, you have always been his partner.

The chasm in your skill is more than noticeable but everyone in HQ knows better than to mention it—except these people weren't from HQ.

All they saw was a prodigy and the average person weighing him down from reaching the heights he's supposed to reach.

The conversation had started pleasantly enough—the Cleaners from the neighboring branch had been older, more established, the sort of people whose names carried weight.

The sort who looked at Zanka and saw potential.

One of them had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"You're even better than the reports said."

Another had nodded.

"Your handling of that Trash Beast was impressive."

"You've got talent."

"Discipline."

"Instinct."

The praise kept coming as you'd mostly stood to the side smiling politely while pretending not to notice how naturally the conversation excluded you.

"You've got a real future ahead of you," they finally told him.

The words should've ended there, but instead another Cleaner briefly glanced your way, then back to him.

"You ever considered switching partners?"

You remember feeling your stomach drop.

Not because the thought had never occurred, but because it had.

Plenty of times.

The Cleaner continued casually like they were simply discussing equipment.

"No offense."

Which always meant offense.

"You're operating at a level where partner compatibility starts mattering."

Another nodded in agreement.

"Someone closer to your level could probably push you further."

"You'd improve faster."

"You've already outgrown most people your age."

You'd already been preparing yourself for whatever annoyed response Zanka would give.

Maybe he'd tell them to mind their own business.

Maybe he'd ignore them entirely.

Maybe—most likely—he'd call you useless himself just so nobody else could.

Instead he stared at them, expression flat and utterly unreadable.

"I don't want another partner."

The Cleaner blinked.

"What?"

"I don't want another partner."

There was a laugh. "C'mon."

"I'm serious."

The laughter faded as the older Cleaners exchanged looks.

Someone leaned forward. "You really think she's the best match available?"

You remember wanting the floor to open beneath you, wanting them to stop—wanting him to stop, because every second this conversation continued felt worse.

Zanka didn't even hesitate.

"Yeah."

"So you're telling me there's nobody better?"

"There probably is."

The response came instantly and for one second you thought he'd finally agree with them.

Until he continued.

"…I don't care."

The Cleaner stared.

"So you're choosing to limit yourself?"

Zanka's expression hardened, just slightly.

The warning signs you knew better than anyone.

"I'm choosing my partner."

You don't really remember what happened after, just those last four words that seem to be playing in your mind on loop.

Even now, standing in the small room hours later, your chest swells at the memory.

Because Zanka—who hates when birds are too loud or people are "too happy"—explicitly chose you.

Behind him, he hears you humming faintly—never a good sign.

He tugs one sleeve off.

"I'm staying here tonight," comes your announcement.

He closes his eyes briefly.

Of course.

"…Do whatever you want."

His eye twitches when you actually gasp out loud.

"Was that permission?"

"No."

"But you didn't say no."

"I should've."

You hum smugly as you begin to undo the buttons at your collar, trying to remember which pair of your pajamas you'd left in his closet. "Well it's too late now anyways."

After that, the conversation simply... runs out.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet broken only by the rustle of clothes and the occasional sound of someone moving around.

It feels strange.

Most nights you would've still been arguing.

Or you'd be bothering him.

Or he'd be threatening to throw you out.

Instead, the edge seems to have worn off somewhere between the long car ride back and the moment you'd announced you were staying.

The mattress dips as Zanka sits on the edge of the bed, the shirtless frame of his torso on display.

A moment later he hears you moving around behind him, changing into something more comfortable.

You're quieter.

Not upset.

Tired, yes, but not just that either.

Softer, maybe.

The version of you that surfaces when you forget to be difficult.

Right now you're shimmying out of your pants, the fabric whispering down your legs to pool at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but panties and an old oversized shirt he recognizes as his once—now stolen and repurposed for sleeping.

His gaze snags on the curve of your hips before he forces himself to look away, heat coiling low in his belly.

"Want the right side?"

A pause, then a small hum.

"Mm."

Like you'd expected him to know

Maybe you had.

The right side had become yours somehow several trips ago. He can't even remember when, only that you always end up there.

The mattress shifts again, then there's a sudden weight against his side.

Zanka freezes.

You'd wandered over and leaned into him without a word, pressing your shoulder lightly against his arm.

Seeking warmth, comfort, something that he never expected anyone would come to him for.

For once you aren't trying to get a reaction out of him.

You simply stay there, quiet, the top of your head nearly brushing his shoulder.

He chooses not to say anything about how you still haven't changed into proper pajamas, just casually cuddling into him while you're in your underwear.

Like he isn't painfully aware of the silky skin of your thighs peeking out from under the hem of the shirt or that those panties ride your ass just right, leaving little to his imagination.

Instead, he stares intently at the opposite wall, his breath held tight in his chest.

"You cold?" he asks stiffly.

You hum no and he suddenly feels a light tickle along his side before it escalates into a gentle prod.

"Look," you chide. "You removed the sutures too early and now its gonna scar."

"It's gonna scar because you suture like you only have one working hand."

He half expects you to bicker back, half expects you to just make another non-verbal noise.

Instead you snort softly. The sound puffs against his shoulder.

"Maybe I did it on purpose."

His brow furrows. "What?"

You poke the spot again. "Maybe I wanted it to scar."

"That's stupid."

A pause.

Then you casually say, "I think you look hotter with scars."

For a single, disastrous second, his brain completely forgets what to do with that information.

Ordinarily, he'd have a response for this—you flirted with him often enough.

Not constantly or enough that anyone else would've noticed a pattern, but enough.

Enough that every now and then you'd lean over his shoulder and call him pretty just to annoy him.

Enough that you'd tell him some stranger had been staring at him.

Enough that you'd grin and ask whether he practiced looking intimidating in a mirror.

Usually he could deal with it—roll his eyes, call you ridiculous and tell you to shut up while pretending the comments bounced off.

Except that the problem was that he'd never disliked it as much as he should have—which was, of course, its own irritation.

But tonight feels different.

Maybe because it feels less like you making fun of him, and more—if not entirely—sincere.

And that makes something unpleasantly warm flip low in his stomach.

His shoulders lock, heat crawling up the back of his neck.

Fortunately you're still leaning against him and can't see his face.

Unfortunately he can feel the warmth threatening to reach his ears.

Zanka clears his throat. "You need better hobbies."

Smooth.

Very smooth.

You grin, and he can hear that too. "I mean it."

"That makes it worse."

"Why?"

"Because now I know you've put actual thought into this."

A quiet laugh escapes you. "I have."

"Obviously." His response comes a little too quickly.

You laugh again, and somehow that makes the warmth worse. He immediately decides he sort of hates this conversation.

A few more quiet, comfortable moments pass.

Then you're shifting, sliding off the bed until your knees hit the floorboards beside him.

You rest your cheek against the soft fabric of his pants, your eyes drifting nearly closed as warmth spreads through you, making everything slightly blurry.

Through the contact, you feel the muscle in his thigh tense as he straightens his posture.

"You were nice today," you murmur.

Above you, the expected sigh comes. You smile against his leg, nuzzling closer.

Your lips travel upward, moving toward the apex of his thighs where he's already begun to swell against the dark fabric. Your fingers glide up to hook into his waistband, pausing as your eyes seek his in silent question.

You've never seen each other completely naked or had sex, but there have been nights when your lips might meet in the dark when things got too close.

Sometimes the kissing would escalate into intense make-out sessions, grinding against each other until you were both breathless.

Like those times, even now this feels natural—the way he gnaws his cheek, trying to show restraint as he gives a curt nod, then quickly adds, "Just the pants."

Your smile catches on your lower teeth as you help him hastily slide his sweats down, tugging them over the tent he's pitched in his boxers.

As the sweats clear his ankles, he quickly folds them and keeps them on the bed.

Your palms are already running up his thighs, admiring the contours of muscle underneath smooth skin as you shamelessly press your face between his legs.

You feel him physically cringe and ignore it, lost in your own heaven.

His smell curls into your nostrils, clouding the edges of your thoughts.

Something shifts in the rhythm of his breathing—or perhaps it's the subtle tightening of his fingers in the sheets. Either way, you notice it.

The familiar ache sparks behind your ribs, dragging downward until you're squeezing your thighs together, slick warmth gathering between them.

Feverish heat spreads through you, blurring everything but the single, urgent thought of needing him.

Your lips trace the hard curve beneath the fabric, following it upward until you press your mouth directly against the evidence of his arousal.

A sharp hiss escapes him as his hips buck against your face.

He grows harder, his length straining so clearly against the fabric that you can almost map its shape with your eyes alone.

You hum, placing a lazy kiss against his shaft, smirking when it twitches in response.

Suddenly his fingers thread through your hair as he swallows, trying to regain control of his breathing.

You glance up, catching his expression—eyes half-lidded, brow furrowed slightly, color high on his cheekbones. A few ashen strands from his usually immaculate mullet have come loose, hanging across his face.

"What—"

The word collapses midway when you drag the flat of your tongue along the shape of his cock in one long stroke from base to just short of tip.

His grip tightens in your hair, his hips jerking again.

Better yet, that familiar addictive smell begins to thicken—his usual scent but with something deeper, more masculine layered beneath.

Your thighs clench again as the ache between them worsens.

"Fuck—"

The word slips out before he can stop it and he swallows immediately afterward, jaw tightening.

Then something shifts subtly, but noticeable enough that you hesitate.

The warmth that had been lingering between you falters slightly as his expression closes off, conflict and something else briefly surfacing in those deep blue eyes before disappearing behind the familiar mask.

You pull back just enough to study him.

"Something wrong?"

For a moment he doesn't answer.

His teeth catch briefly on his lower lip.

"You don't have to do this."

You blink. "What?"

"It seriously wasn't a big deal. They were just bein'—"

He gestures vaguely, as if the rest of the sentence isn't worth finishing.

Your brows knit together as genuine confusion overtakes you for a moment.

Then it clicks and the realization settles in.

You stare at him.

And then, despite yourself, your expression softens into something bright and faintly amused.

"...You think I'm doing this because—what? I feel obligated to?"

His lips part—whether to defend himself or deny it, you're not entirely sure.

You don't give him the chance either way.

"Because you weren't an asshole for once in your life?"

The words come accompanied by a dramatic roll of your eyes.

It was more than that. Much more than that.

The memory of him sitting across from those esteemed Cleaners, listening to them casually dissect your worth as a partner before shutting the entire conversation down without hesitation, still sits warm in your chest.

But you downplay it anyway, partly because he looks uncomfortable and mostly because watching him squirm is funny.

For half a second he's completely speechless.

The moment your smile widens, his eyes narrow.

"You're an idiot."

You grin, his scowl deepens.

"I'm doing this for me, not you."

For a brief moment he simply stares at you, the confidence in your answer seeming to throw him more than any teasing ever could.

Then he looks away first.

"Of course," he grouses.

The irritation in his voice would be more convincing if you didn't catch the faint flush along the tips of his ears.

"Or maybe… you just want me to prove how badly I want this?" you whisper, lowering your head again.

You stick out your tongue, pressing the tip right against the wet patch at the front of his boxers and swirling it around until you can taste the faint saltiness of his arousal.

He pulses against your mouth, fresh pre-cum soaking through the fabric as he curses low in his throat.

"Fuck—" he hisses through his teeth. "You're terrible."

"Why?" Glee bubbles in your voice as you watch him strain and tense, tracing patterns on his shaft until the your tongue is dry from friction and the fabric is damp.

You seal your lips around the swollen head as best you can through the cotton, sucking gently.

The sight above you is exquisite—his toned chest flexing and shimmering with a light sheen of sweat that catches the dim light.

And his face, expression contorted as if in pain as you lavish attention on his bulge.

"Mm, gonna cum already?" you tease. "Right in your boxers?"

His jaw clenches tighter as you caress him with your tongue while he glares daggers at you.

Because both of you know the answer—he's already pulsing so hard you can feel it against your tongue, clearly fighting to hold back his rapidly approaching climax.

Not that you're faring much better. It's only when his eyes drift between your thighs, narrowing slightly, that you realize you've been pressing your heel into your crotch to alleviate some of the ache.

And by the time you realize, it's too late. His eyes are sharpening, lips curving in a sharp smirk.

Shit.

"Well now," he laughs breathlessly. "At least that's better than getting off on your own foot."

"What?! I was not—"

"It's okay, I'll help you out." He bends over, hands hooking under your arms before you can protest. "…Since I'm bein' so generous today," he adds in your ear.

Then with one harsh tug that borders on painful, he exerts enough force to maneuver you on top of him, guiding you to clumsily straddle him.

You gasp softly as his hardness presses against your panties, now soaked with arousal.

He doesn't waste time on teasing—just grabs you with fingers digging into your hips to hold you in place as he ruts up against your panty-clad pussy.

You let out something like a breathy whimper that harmonizes with his low groan as the friction sends sparks flying through your throbbing clit.

Your eyes catch on his abs tensing and given how modestly he usually dresses, just seeing this much skin is driving you past the point of dignity or coherence.

Your fingers glide up to tease at the waistband of his boxers and the words fall from your lips so automatically you wonder who's speaking. "Take 'em off."

You're not thinking clearly.

Neither is he, because he only hesitates for a second before his fingers hook around the elastic to tug it down and free his cock.

The flushed head springs out, several veins mapping his normally smooth shaft from how rigidly hard he is.

Under normal circumstances, you'd take a moment to admire it. But right now you're so worked up that all you can do is whimper at the sight as fresh heat floods through you.

"C-Can I?" he asks breathlessly, already holding you by the hips and pressing his length against the soaked fabric of your panties.

You're not entirely sure what he's asking, but you nod eagerly anyway.

He exhales sharply as he holds you in place, grinding his drooling tip against the outline of your folds where the thin fabric clings to them. His pre-cum seeps through, adding to the growing mess.

"Shit." His hands slide down to the sides of your thighs, pushing them together. Intuitively understanding what he wants, you squeeze your thighs around his cock, cushioning his length between plush flesh. "Yea, perfect, j-just like that—"

Wanting to hear more of those sounds from him, you piston your hips slightly, just enough to create a crude rhythm of jerking him off.

Between your sensitive thighs and pressed against your clothed pussy, you're acutely aware of how warm his cock is.

Warm, twitching, dripping like it's alive.

And once again, in another decision that feels automatic, your fingers slide down as if with a mind of their own, hooking into the gusset of your panties.

This is probably a bad idea. You briefly think about condoms before the notion slips away.

Not that you'd use them even if you had them right now—what you truly want is to feel his cock directly against your skin.

You lift your hips slightly and tug the gusset of your panties to the side, exposing your folds.

They're swollen, glistening with arousal that beads at your entrance, practically begging for attention.

His cock jerks at the sight, another bead of pre-cum welling up at his slit.

"You—" His voice cracks, but he pushes through. "You sure 'bout this—"

You press down, letting his cock glide through your slippery folds, and both of you moan. "Well—ah!—maybe you don't need to put it in."

Your breath catches as you settle completely, peeking down to where his cock is nestled between your lips, only the ruddy tip peeking out from between them.

"This... this feels good."

He gives a curt nod, wasting no time before shifting his pelvis to slowly piston his length back and forth through your wet folds.

You sigh, breath hitching when he reaches forward, thumbing one of your folds open to expose the swollen nub of your clit before brushing against it.

Then he grabs his cock, angling it so the satiny glans rubs directly against your clit.

The sensation is even better than you imagined—warm, sticky, impossibly slick as he drags the head across that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Both of you stare intently at where you grind against each other, mutual sparks flying from the point of clumsy friction as you try to get off on one another.

Until he abruptly shifts, chasing his own pleasure at an angle that deliberately takes pressure off your clit.

Mindlessly, you try to press harder, to shift in response and align yourself so your clit rubs better against him, to chase that perfect friction—

"No. Stay," he mutters, not even bothering to look at you as he keeps you firmly in the position you're in, grinding his cock against you.

Right into the dip of where your hole steadily leaks, and just short of your clit, leaving you to squirm with frustration.

"I think my partner needs—mmh—to learn a thing or two about patience," he rasps between shaky breaths before clicking his tongue at your insistent squirming. "Unless you can't," he continues suddenly. "…And maybe they're right about getting an upgra—"

Your hand clamps firmly over his mouth, muffling his provocations as you scowl.

"Shut up," you snap, before realizing, "Wait—"

Leaning forward, you opt to shut him up with your lips crashing against his.

He doesn't even pretend—his lips part immediately to let your tongue slide in, claiming his mouth.

You lick the bed of his smooth tongue before it tangles with yours.

It's hot and wet and messy. Teeth clicking, saliva mixing and threatening to leak from where it gathers at the corner of your lips.

You shift, pushing down on him and finally letting your clit catch perfectly at the ridged edge of his tip.

Like this, you hump him desperately, and to your delight, he ruts up into you just as enthusiastically, matching your neediness instead of pushing you away or trying to shift angles.

He moans into your mouth and you swallow it greedily, feeling the pulse build in your clit with each desperate thrust.

All pretenses, all egos—shattered to pieces.

For once he's not posturing, not pretending he isn't as consumed by you as you are by him.

One hand digs into your hip, the other clutches your ass, holding you flush against his cock as his pelvis bucks wildly.

Somewhere in the frantic exchange, his tongue becomes the invader, his teeth capturing your bottom lip before you can process the shift.

You wince when he bites down hard enough to draw blood, and you can feel his lips curling against yours when you whine.

Your hips circle in sinuous motions, grinding your clit into his swollen tip, faster and harder until the rhythm breaks apart into something erratic and desperate.

"Mmh f-fuck yes—" he chokes out, suddenly clutching you so tightly it borders on painful. "I'm gonna—hah—!"

His words dissolve into a choked whimper as he holds you down, pinning you still while he presses his cumming length against you.

Liquid heat erupts against your sensitive clit and folds, a strange but utterly intoxicating sesnation.

It's the heat that consumes you—ropes of cum shooting onto your pussy as his cock twitches violently. He's cumming, he's cumming, it's so hot—so impossibly hot—you think you might actually pass out.

By the time the last weak spurts subside, your chests are sticking together with sweat. You feel him heaving beneath you, muscles tensing and relaxing, as you share warm breaths and his iron grip on you finally eases.

You're dizzy and your clit aches with need.

Without checking in, driven purely by your own desperate need to finish, you rock your hips back and forth, rubbing your clit against his softening cock.

He jolts from the overstimulation, lips breaking from yours, and for a second you're certain he'll stop you.

But he doesn't.

Instead his hands slide to your waist as his head dips, lips pressing against your throat.

"That's it," you think you hear him murmur against your skin.

You feel him tense and catch his breath as you continue to grind against his spent, overly sensitive cock. You slide, all slick and sticky from the drying milky cum you're using as lube to get yourself off.

Your clit, his reaction, the sting of his teeth grazing your neck—it's all enough to send you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you suddenly, crashing through you in a short-lived but intensely euphoric wave.

Then you collapse completely onto him, suddenly exhausted, not even bothering to put your panties back in place.

For a moment you lie there as he clumsily manages to tuck himself back in, bodies slick with sweat and cum, breaths gradually returning to normal. Boneless and languid, you wait for your mind to come back online.

And as soon as it does—

"Zanka your dick is so cute, I had no idea you were carrying that down there the whole time—"

"Quit bein' weird—"

"And you whimper so much!" you coo, pushing yourself up just enough to face him as you pinch his cheek, ignoring the deadly scowl on his face.

His lip curls, twitching in irritation.

"Who would've thought the big mean Zanka whimpers when he c—"

The words die in a muffled gasp as his palm clamps over your mouth, rough and warm.

His grip isn't cruel, but firm enough to silence you.

"Cut it out," he snaps.

Your heart thumps against his hand where it rests on your chest.

For a moment, you struggle against the sudden restriction, your tongue attempting to form another teasing remark.

But then the fight drains out of you as quickly as it came.

Your body goes slack against his, your breathing evening out into soft, rhythmic pants against his palm.

Zanka remains tense above you, waiting for some sign that you've learned your lesson.

But after ten seconds of silence, your breathing hasn't changed. He lifts his hand slightly, peering down at you.

Your eyes are closed, lashes casting faint shadows on your cheeks. Within a few seconds flat, you’ve actually fallen asleep.

With the taste of him still on your tongue and your cheek pressed against him like his angular shoulder is the most comfortable pillow in the world.

A sigh escapes Zanka's lips as he shifts slightly, careful not to wake you.

He had wanted you both to shower before bed, to clean up the sweat and other evidence of what just happened.

But looking at your peaceful face, he decides it can wait until morning.

His fingers gently stroke your hair before he settles back against the headboard, closing his own eyes to drift off to sleep.

[gllimzz]

this might be a bit ooc but i really want subby zanka getting a blowjob from reader and he is SO loud on accident, he’s so lost in pleasure he doesn’t even realize the noises coming out of his mouth are so sinful!! Especially when you suck and lick on the most sensitive spot of his dick he rolls his eyes back and literally shouts he’s coming and when you both leave the room everyone is staring..

I was that loud?

Pairing: zanka nijiku x reader

Genre: smut

Summary: reader sucks off zanka and hes louder than he realises.

Wc: 1025

A/n: meow

You guide a flustered Zanka Nijiku into the small, dimly lit side room just off the main party area, the bass from the music vibrating faintly through the walls. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the chatter and laughter outside, but not nearly enough to grant real privacy. A single lamp casts a warm, golden glow over the worn couch, highlighting the way his silver hair falls messily across his forehead, his usual composed demeanor already cracking under the heat of your gaze.

He backs up until his thighs hit the edge of the couch, eyes wide and cheeks dusted with pink. “W-wait, here? Now? Someone might—” His protest dissolves into a sharp inhale as you drop smoothly to your knees in front of him, hands sliding up his thighs with deliberate slowness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way they quiver beneath your palms.

You tug his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock, already half-hard and twitching eagerly in the cool air. The flushed, velvety length bobs in front of your face, the tip glistening with a bead of precum. Zanka’s breath hitches audibly. You lean in without hesitation, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss right beneath the sensitive head, letting your warm breath ghost over his skin.

A broken, needy whimper escapes his lips instantly—soft and unintentional.

Encouraged, you wrap your fingers around the thick base, feeling him throb hotly against your palm, and take him into your mouth. The moment your lips slide down his shaft, enveloping him in wet heat, Zanka’s head falls back against the couch with a shaky gasp that quickly spirals into something far louder. A deep, throaty moan rips from his chest, raw and unrestrained, echoing slightly in the small room. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and one hand flies up to slap over his mouth, but it’s far too late.

You don’t give him any mercy. You hollow your cheeks and suck harder, tongue swirling lazily around the underside of his cock as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each pass. Another moan tears out of him—higher-pitched this time, desperate and sinful, completely unlike the quiet, reserved Zanka everyone knows. He doesn’t seem to realize how loud he’s being; he’s already lost, pretty eyes half-lidded and glassy, mouth hanging open as soft, wet whimpers and gasps spill freely from his throat.

“Ha— ahhn—! It feels… so good… too good—” His voice cracks beautifully, fingers threading into your hair, not pushing or pulling, just clinging desperately as his thighs tremble on either side of your shoulders. Every time you take him to the back of your throat and swallow around him, a new broken cry escapes, louder and needier than the last. The slick, obscene sounds of your mouth working him fill the room—wet slurps, soft gags, and his increasingly shameless moans layering over them.

You focus on that most sensitive spot just beneath the head, licking and sucking with firm, targeted pressure while your hand strokes the rest of him in time. Zanka’s entire body jolts violently. His back arches off the couch, muscles straining under his shirt as his eyes roll back, lashes fluttering wildly.

“F-fuck— right there, right there—!” The words dissolve into a loud, guttural shout that bounces off the walls. “Ahhn—! I can’t— I’m— I’m coming—!”

He doesn’t whisper it. He shouts it, voice raw and cracking into a desperate, sinful cry that anyone nearby would easily hear. His cock pulses hard on your tongue, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat as his hips stutter and jerk uncontrollably. You keep sucking and licking through it, milking every last drop while he shakes and whimpers through the aftershocks, completely gone—eyes rolled back, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking down his flushed cheeks, mouth open in a continuous stream of hoarse, broken moans.

Only when he starts twitching with oversensitivity do you finally pull off with a soft, wet pop, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to his spent cock for a moment before it breaks. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling up at his dazed expression. His chest heaves, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, legs still trembling.

It takes him several long minutes to come back down to earth, blinking slowly like he’s waking from a dream. You gently tuck him back into his pants, fix his clothes, and help him stand on shaky legs. Zanka leans heavily against you, burying his burning face in the crook of your neck as you lead him toward the door.

The moment you step back into the main room, the party noise seems to dip noticeably. Heads turn. Eyes widen. A few of your friends freeze mid-conversation, drinks paused halfway to their lips. One girl slaps a hand over her mouth, barely stifling a laugh, while another guy raises an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. The stares are impossible to ignore—some shocked, some amused, a couple clearly putting two and two together from the timing and the faint, lingering flush on Zanka’s face.

Zanka freezes beside you, realization crashing over him like a bucket of ice water. His face drains of color for a split second before exploding into a deep, mortified crimson that spreads all the way to his ears. “I… I was… that loud?” he whispers hoarsely, voice barely audible now, cracking with embarrassment. He tries to hide behind you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, fingers clutching tightly at your shirt.

You just grin, sliding your hand into his and lacing your fingers together as you walk casually past the staring crowd. Whispers and muffled giggles follow you both. Zanka stays glued to your side for the rest of the night, avoiding eye contact with everyone, his grip on your hand never loosening. Every so often he lets out a tiny, mortified groan against your shoulder, but there’s a shy, secretly pleased little smile tugging at his lips when he thinks no one’s looking.

He’s going to be teased mercilessly tomorrow… but right now, he’s still floating from the pleasure you gave him.

[h-0-error]

Tamsy would be into rainbow kissing.

Tamsy would love a rainbow kiss.

Tamsy and rainbow kissing.

aka menstrual blood plus semen in a kiss

[birdplushie]

"it's not that deep" START DIGGING!!

[magn-animously]

DIG

[14-opossums-in-a-trenchcoat]

DIG

[buriedunderyourmum]

DIG

[hannisconfused]

DIG

[kitsunesakii]

DIG

[yourlocalfandomfriendo]

DIG

[apple-notplural]

DIG

[vivitur-moritur]

DIG

[spacecat24-7]

DIG

[chub-froggy]

DIG

[thatghostthateatspeople]

DIG

[krowbreaker]

DIG

[spid-the-spider]

DIG

[annabelle--cane]

DIG

[yellow-faerie]

DIG

[vampiraptor]

[philosopherking1887]

OOPS TOO DEEP

[breaks-hetheon]

CLIMB

[artist-of-obsessions]

CLIMB

[fablegate]

CLIMB

[marzibird]

CLIMB

[the-luckyrabbit]

CLIMB

[staarbles]

CLIMB

[modmad]

[sebwritesstories]

[jiimeniita]

OKAY NOW BACK TO EARTH

[revolvingsaturn]

PORNST★R

𝜗𝜚 You’ve never really questioned where Megumi gets the money for his nice apartment from as a simple veterinary student. Until you’re scrolling through a camboy website late at night and realise- huh, isn’t that your name he’s whimpering under his breath? And, what would he sound like saying it in real life?

content: smut, camboy!Megumi, friends to lovers, closeted perv Megumi, male masturbation (a lot), female masturbation, edging, WHIMPERING, moaning, rambling, gooner!Megs lowk, pillow humping, overstimulation, dirty talk, teasing, humilation (a little), messy makeouts, dry humping, fingers in mouths, nippleplay, NURSING HANDJOBS, multiple orgasms, happy trails, praise, pet names (good boy, baby, etc), missionary, creampies, oral (f receiving), he eats his cum out of you, choking him w your thighs, crying, aftercare, happy endings

wc: 4.5k

a/n: eek! this is my treat to you all for 9k <33 I really cannot thank you all enough <33!!

more like this

Your day so far has been terrible. Worse than terrible, like you burnt down a village in the eleventh century and now you’re being forced to reap the consequences in painful modernity. Firstly, your lecture was so boring you actively fell asleep at your seat and a girl had to nervously poke you awake with a pencil before you tripped over your own feet in a bid to get out as quickly as possible; then, a car drove through a puddle and splashed you with muddy water, and finally your shoes rubbed through your socks and now you have a fresh blister. It's rubbing against the heel of your shoe with every painful step, and you grimace as it stings.

All you want to do is go back to your dorm, slather yourself in bubbly bodywash, moisturise and pass out in your cosy bed. Unfortunately, you’re pre-booked into a movie night with your best friend, but you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you cancelled, right? Megumi’s always been understanding, after all.

“Hi Megs!” You say into your phone- he picked up on the third ring, how punctual of him- “I’m super sorry about this, but I’ve just had an awful day and I can’t come over. I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine.” He says back, voice crackling over the speaker. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon instead, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “thanks!”

On the other side of campus, Megumi Fushiguro is annoyed. Significantly. Because now you aren’t coming over, how is he supposed to indulge in those little squeaky gasps you let out at a scare and wrap his arms around you when you jump into them?

Not that he’s perverted, or anything, though.

Okay, maybe he is a little perverted, but that’s between him and… well, his tens of thousands of nightly viewers that pay to watch him fist his cock stupid.

Yes, tens of thousands- the view count climbing as he goes stupider and stupider, his eyes twitching closed above the field the camera offers to the strangers watching him get off. Sometimes they send in donations, begging for him to edge himself just a little longer or pinch his nipples. He’s surprised you didn’t think he had a side gig going, considering how many little trinkets and gifts he buys for you.

And he’s worked up enough already over your recent post; god, he tries so so hard not to look because he feels awful, but when he catches a glimpse of your thighs in a bikini on his feed he’s so gone he can’t help but mewl into his palm as the other slicks his cock. This week, you’ve posted a cutely curated set of your recent outings- and Megumi finds himself scrolling through the snaps of stray cats, foamy coffees, and study sessions to a selfie.

In the picture, you’re wearing a cute little tank top- and all Megumi can think about is how soft the sliver of your tits the photo affords him looks; how he wants to stuff his face between them and drool (he’s doing that already, saliva pooling in his mouth) while you pet his hair from above.

And so he finds himself setting up his camera to face the chair he’s slumped on, cock straining and leaking impatiently against his boxers as he wrangles his sweats to the floor; all it takes is a few taps of his keyboard, and he’s live.

His hand palms over the bulge in his underwear, watching the way pre dampens the cotton as the first donations already start flowing in. But he doesn’t care about that, not right now, as he has your post pulled up on his monitor and zoomed in pervertedly to the dip of cleavage in your tank top.

If Megumi was happy to let you stay at your dorm, you’re practically thrilled. Honestly, getting yourself off wasn’t part of your intended plan, but the seam of your underwear caught just right as you slipped into bed and now your fingers are carding messily through your own slick.

Your other hand, the one not circling your clit, is scrolling lazily on your phone through a live camboy website of all things. You can’t even find it within yourself to be ashamed, not when you’re being offered such a glorious array of whining men jerking into their hands.

“Nope,” you breathe, flicking past somebody in too-clear, pristine, professional lighting. “No…” you grimace again, ignoring the advert at the bottom of your screen telling you to ‘meet hot singles now!’

God, is there anything good on here?

Actually, you think surprisedly, landing on a slightly gritty livestream of somebody cracking out breathy moans through the occasional whine, maybe there is. It's like audio porn, but even better, because you know he's actually getting himself off, thick globules of pre snaking over his clenched knuckles while his other hand runs teasingly over his chest and pectorals.

Your index finger presses down onto your clit, applying enough pressure to make your hips lift a little off the bed as your thighs twitch restlessly. “Oh,” you moan to yourself, “mhm-“

On screen, the faceless camboy is repeatedly drawing his hand away from his poor, sensitive tip to watch the way his cock spurts out pre and soaks the messy happy trail crawling across his abs. “Hah, fuck-“ he whimpers, hips fucking into the air, “fuuccckk, feels good, hck-“

Oh, you think hazily, two fingers fucking into yourself, he’s gone totally stupid.

Nice!

He keeps rambling, the microphone picking it up. “Ohhhhmygod,” he slurs, “miss you. You’re so pretty, miss you s’bad…”

You pause, fingers buried knuckle-deep into your own cunt. Hold on- you recognise that voice. It sounds eerily similar. Your brows pinch in concentration as you rake through the people you know; nobody from your lectures, nobody you’ve spoken to in passing, nobody. You’ve been through everybody- well, not everybody.

Megumi.

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, grabbing your phone and sitting upright, “no fucking way.”

The camboy has a catalogue of previous livestreams pinned on his profile, ranging in length from hours-long edging sessions to quick bursts of videos he must’ve spontaneously recorded in a bathroom or another public space that you really shouldn’t be camboying from.

The phone is obviously slung in his hand, his other set of fingers stroking across his abs before pinching the tip of his cock. The noise he lets out hits the microphone sexily, so sexily it makes your thighs snap together.

The first full video you click on is a landscape view. The bedroom is dark and fuzzy, grainy footage showing his whole, naked body (but not his face) as he spreads himself out rather prettily on top of his sheets. The man’s back is arched slightly as he humps into a pillow, his eyes no doubt rolling back in his skull if you go by the noises he’s making.

“Hnngh-“ he whimpers, cock buried within the plush cotton of the pillowcase, “oh fuck, it still smells like y-you-“ he’s rambling, “smells so good, so gooood, fuck, feel so bad-“ your cheeks are hot. That’s definitely Megumi’s bedroom, you’d recognise that neat pile of veterinary textbooks on the shelf anywhere; but, that isn’t his pillow.

It’s yours.

“Can’t help myself, feels too good-“ he pants, mouth muffled against the bed as he desperately grinds his pelvis down. “Wish it was you,” he moans as he cums, hips stuttering against the soft material.

It’s definitely yours, the one you accidentally left at his dorm a few weeks ago after you slept on his couch with freshly-washed hair and the smell of your shampoo seeped into the pillow. “Holy shit.” You mutter to yourself, entranced with the way Megumi’s moaning stupidly about how good it smells on camera to thousands of strangers.

Thousands of horny strangers, as evidenced by the comments.

> Oh my god his whines

> I’m so wet rnnnn ughhghgh

> THE RAMBLING FUCKKKK

You know it’s him, definitely- but you can never have enough proof. At least, that’s the excuse you use to justify why you’re salivating over a lewd video of him wrapping his shaky fingers around his base and tugging. “I wish it was you-“ he breathes, “wish you were here.”

Surely he isn’t talking about you, is he? At least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself as you turn up your volume and your brightness simultaneously. “Fuck, you looked so good earlier,” he rambles to himself, occasionally cutting off his own train of thought as his fingers pull harshly. “I wanted you to fuck me so badly it hurt.”

He moans loudly, cracking at the end. “So badly, ngh-“

You’re shocked, honestly, sitting in bed as your best friend whimpers himself to an orgasm. You don’t realise he’s cumming until you hear him whine and his back practically arches away from the chair he’s in, shoving his slick tip towards the camera, and oh, he looks so pretty. His abs get a firm splattering, dripping messily across the sweaty skin, before he shakily drags a hand through the white. Then, the video ends, and you’re left to stunned silence and your own soaked gusset. And, of course, the comments.

> WHOOO is he talking about

> He’s so messy

> nghh his happy trail is sosoooso hot

You can barely face speaking to him the next day, nervously curled up on the opposite side of his couch and anxiously worrying your lip between your teeth. Lest you blurt out something along the lines of “I saw the video of you whimpering and humping my pillow and I had to take a cold shower afterwards”, you take a shaky sip of your water instead.

Now you’re back at Megumi’s place, you’re really registering how much money he must make from camboying. There’s nothing broken, not even little things like the window latches that, at your dorm, have a nasty habit of getting stuck closed in summer. And his clothes are nice too, in a subtle way- casual, but definitely made from a comfy blend of materials that polyester is nowhere near.

Your one saving grace is, dizzingly, that now you know he wants you too- and it’s maybe that (or the lack of sleep) that carries your next words out of your mouth.

“You know you can speak to me about anything, right, Megs?”

“Yeah?” He side eyes you, running a pale hand through his spiky hair. You squint. “Like, anything.”

He nods slowly. “Uh, yeah?”

“Oh, okay,” you say, “so when were you gonna tell me you make your money from being a camboy?”

Megumi freezes. His whole body tenses up on the couch and he looks rather nauseous.

“What?”

You shift into your hands and knees in front of him on the couch, slowly crawling towards his stilled body. “Don’t pretend,” you say, voice dropping into something a little breathy and very evil. Your fingers lightly drift across his thigh, and Megumi jolts. “I saw. That was my pillow, wasn’t it?”

His cheeks go redder than you think you’ve ever seen them- but he’s still silent, processing the fact that you know he fucks his hand every night on camera while whimpering your name. “I’m sorry,” he manages finally, voice thick, “I’m so, so sorry, I just- fuck-“

He dares a glance up, and almost chokes on his own spit. You look sorry for him, a little sad at how panicked he is; your eyes are big and round and, most of all, trusting, and it makes him feel hot. Mortification washes over him when he feels the blood previously flooding his face rush southwards, his sweats filling out the longer you pity him.

Honestly, he thinks he just wants you to take care of him. Maybe that’s why he’s spent so long begging on livestreams, cock buried in your scent or the fingers he wishes were yours.

“Admit it,” you whisper suddenly with a fresh burst of confidence at his blushing, your mouth hovering dangerously close to his. “You like this. Me pitying you.”

Megumi’s breath shudders loudly, his eyes screwed up as he gulps. Say it, Megumi! Something hisses at himself, you know you do. “Yeah. I really do.”

The initial press of your mouth against his is curved upwards as you smile into his tongue. You were expecting him to be just as tentative, but instead Megumi is messy- like he needs you to breathe, gripping you through your clothes with grabby hands.

“Mmpfh!” You squeak against his lips when he nips down- hard- on your bottom lip. He’s breathing heavily now, eyes shut lucidly as he leans into the gentle touch of your palms on his face. The kiss is sloppy; you keep pulling away for air, glossy strings of spit clashing in midair, only for Megumi to gasp and pull your mouth back closer.

It’s not close enough, though.

His hands are fisting in the shirt at your back, clinging to your waist to drag you atop his lap. Megumi doesn’t even realise what he’s done until you gasp, pulling back just long enough to gaze down at his face. All flustered and dazed, lips kiss bitten as he instinctually chases after your lips- how pretty.

You feel bad for the viewers, the ones on his livestreams who don’t get to see the face he makes when he’s all worked up. Your lap is splayed across his bulge, and when your hips lift up to awkwardly wriggle out of your jeans Megumi drops his forehead to your collarbone and whines at the loss.

And it’s that thought about those livestreams that brings your hand down his chest, feeling the fluttering beat of his heart, before playing with his waistband. He physically lurches when your hand, so soft and warm and loving, gently coaxes his cock out.

It slaps obscenely against his stomach, tip a pretty pink and dripping big beads of shining pre. There’s a significant vein striping down the side of the pale skin, curving around the length as it twitches hopelessly in the air under your watchful gaze. Megumi’s fingers are curling into the couch on either side, digging hollow dents into the throw pillows like he isn’t ready to allow himself to touch you.

Your other hand travels up his body towards his face, tilting his chin up towards you so you can take in his blown pupils and the haze already seeping over them like ink. His mouth is clamped shut, lips drawn into a thin line to keep his needy noises locked behind his teeth; so, logically, you have to open him up.

Two of your fingers slide tentatively into the warm, small space of his mouth, and Megumi accepts them like a ship going to the sea, waves battering at his sides. He feels a little like he's drowning inside his own head, being so vulnerable and pathetic under you, but the feeling of your digits gently probing at his tongue keeps him steady.

You’re still across his lap, scooted backwards to allow his cock to rest in the heated space between you as you gently take it in your hand. He moans immediately and his hips buck up. “Sorry.” He apologises thickly around your fingers as you ease them out, warm face dropping against your clothed chest. And yet, his hips don’t stop.

They splatter your hand with pre, almost erratically bucking up into your awaiting fist as you curl it into a tighter hole for him to thrust his length through. You use your other hand to pull at his hair just hard enough for him to turn and look at you, his cheek still pressed up hard against the outline of your tits visible through your shirt. You grin.

“Do you want me to take it off?” Your fingers are already curling into the hem. When you take your hand from his cock to wriggle out of the fabric, Megumi chokes on his own whine and desperately lurches forwards- but while your edging was cruel, the sight of your tits in front of him makes it worth it.

“Wait, slow down-“ You’re only just fumbling with the clasp and giggling when Megumi decides that it’s been long enough and he needs his mouth on you now. He trails sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your throat to your sternum and soaks the lace of your bra with his spit before you rip the garment away and he connects his lips to your nipple.

At the same time as you gasp softly and arch further into his mouth, your fingers reconnect with his aching cock and resume their prior movements, only this time Megumi’s whimpers are muffled around your chest.

“Never want to think again,” he slurs suddenly against you, glossy spit trickling down the valley between your breasts as he pops back long enough to shove his tongue greedily into your mouth again. “Just… just- fuck, I’m so needy,” he cracks out, your lips parting loudly to welcome his own.

“You are,” you agree, gently bringing his face away from yours so you can look at him. His eyes are heavy and glassy, his mouth hanging open slightly as though their purpose is to await the next lick of your tongue between them. “But that’s okay,” you continue, stroking his head as his mouth attaches itself to your chest again. “You’re allowed to be needy.”

Your hand feels warmer, suddenly, as Megumi cums from your allowance. Maybe he’s been waiting for it, secretly, the permission from you to let go; his release drips hot and sticky across your knuckles, and there’s just so much of it. His cock is still spurting when you push him back against the couch, still messing the sliver of happy trail on his stomach you want to mouth at and ruining his shirt that’s covering the rest of the hair.

He has a forearm thrown across his eyes as his hips continue bucking, little whines and gasps hidden behind the skin. Your fingers trace the hem of his shirt and he shivers. “Off?” You question quietly. When he nods jerkily, you peel it away and oh, it’s even better than the livestream.

You always knew Megumi went to the gym and ate reasonably well, but the refined ridges of his abdomen, splattered with a trail of hair from his navel downwards, makes your mouth salivate. He’s embarrassed by you looking, you can tell, but it really isn’t your fault!

“I see why you have so many viewers now.” You giggle, standing up to unhook your panties and toss them to the side. Megumi watches in nothing less than total awe as your bare body is revealed to him in his living room. It’s an invitation, the way you look at him, he knows that, but he can’t figure out what he wants to do with it.

Bend you over the glass coffee table? He wouldn’t be able to see your tits. Doggy? Same problem as the coffee table, and he doesn't think he could handle seeing your ass move. If you got on top he thinks he’d cum embarrassingly quickly and then pass out, too much for your first time together, really-

He settles on missionary.

Which was probably a gigantic fucking mistake, he thinks as soon as you’re lying beneath him, because his brain immediately blanks when faced with you spread out like this. He’s kneeling in front of you, cock still dripping, but he’s unable to move from shock. “Fuck,” he swallows eventually, shaky hands landing on your soft, bare thighs.

“You’re… so pretty.” Instinctually, you blush; your cheeks are pinker at his sweet little praise than they were when you’d laid back on the carpet, rug cushioning the feeling of your bare spine and sinking comfily into your feet as you drew your knees up. “You too.”

It sort of just slipped out, a casual response to what Megumi said, but it makes him freeze. A slow, slightly malicious smile paints its way across your face as you sit up on your elbows, unintentionally pushing your chest towards him as your legs fall open. “You’re just sooo pretty, Megumi, the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, it just makes me want to-“

A palm clasps itself over your mouth and you make a muffled, indignant sound of protest. “Stop.” Megumi’s head is hung low as his chest reverberates outwards in his plea, his other hand tightly squeezing his cock; he must be sensitive if this is what a teeny bit of praise does to him, you think, letting your thighs spread further for him to shuffle between.

Your hand reaches up to peel his palm away from your lips. “Megumi,” you whisper, “you can fuck me. You’re allowed to.” His next breath escapes shakily, as his eyes fixate on the way his tip is lined up glimmeringly with the entrance to your pussy.

Somehow, the overwhelming need to bury himself inside you overrides the sense of terror within his bloodstream, and Megumi finds himself slowly pushing himself into you. “Oh,” you moan, hands coming up to splay across his shoulders, “fuck, Megs. That's so good, baby.”

The nickname unlocks something new in him, the feeling of your walls stretching out for him (and only ever him from now on, he decides hazily) while you gasp his name quietly makes his thrusts turn harder, seeking a new level of release he fears- no, knows- he’ll now only be able to reach from this.

The stretch is mean at first, his flushed length scraping past your sweet spots like he’s teasing them for later. Your chest heaves as you breathe through it and let him in, legs wrapping loosely around his lean waist while your hands come up to cup his cheeks and drag him down into another sloppy kiss.

This kiss is messy beyond comparison, spit and teeth and tongue more than lips as the pace of Megumi’s cock thrusting into you picks up. There’s a rushing of blood in your ears when your hand drifts down to rub your clit wonkily, a noise that subsides quick enough and lets you listen to Megumi instead.

And oh, what a thing to listen to!

“Fuck,” he’s moaning, voice cracking on the syllables, “you’re so warm, so tight, wanna- hnngh- stay here forever, god-“

He’s whining and crying, sobbing uncontrollably about how good you feel, how warm and wet you are wrapped tightly around him, and it sends a fresh wave of slick from you that decorates and splashes against his pelvis.

As hard as he tries to hold back and be a goody boy for you, Megumi cums first. The feeling of him spilling into you, thick and wet, makes you gasp brokenly as your nails dig into his shoulders. “Sorry-“ he heaves, pulling out, “I’ll make it up to you-“

He presses himself flat between your thighs, and you’re too dazed and throbbing to do anything but watch the way he’s staring pussydrunkenly at the sight between your legs. It’s almost nasty, just how much is dripping from your cunt down to the floor, in one thick droplet he’s lurching forwards and licking up with his mouth.

“Oh my god-“ you mewl, back arching up as he eats his own cum out of your pussy. Your hands reach down to grip at his spiky hair, more as an anchor than anything else- you don’t need to guide him, he’s good enough, although you don’t think Megumi would pull away if you wanted him to.

He’s completely lost in it, groaning and whining into your pussy with his eyes half-closed while his big hands wrap around your thighs and dig into the flesh until it dimples beneath his touch. You’re whimpering by the time he pushes you into an orgasm, lips suctioned tightly over your sensitive clit, but he doesn’t stop.

“Hah- wanted to do this f’so long,” he’s mumbling against your cunt, shoving his mouth open to lick a flat stripe across the full space you offer him. “So good, so good…”

Your pussy flutters needily around his tongue, his tastebuds coated and lacquered with your slick and his own cum. The concept should be off-putting to him, he knows that, but he can't be ashamed when your hits jerk into his face and he raises his hands to grip onto your plush thighs even more. Megumi barely realises what he's doing before you call him out on it.

"You- you want me to clamp them?" You gasp, watching the way he's smothering himself with your skin. Megumi moans in agreement, in admission. And you oblige.

Your thighs tighten around his head harshly, applying the maximum amount of pressure you can manage; his dark hair gets messed even more, his skull compressed, and yet Megumi thinks this feels like heaven.

Eventually, what little coherence he had left devolves into something close to devotion. He can’t do anything but lie there and gently grind his overstimulated cock into the soft carpet, his mouth smushed against your cunt as he unintentionally drags you into a second orgasm and you sob.

In fact, you’re both sobbing a little. There’s tears brimming in his eyes, saline drops threatening to streak Megumi’s already bright cheeks, while the water collecting at your waterline has already begun slipping down your temples. “S’too much.” You hear yourself slurring. Your voice sounds underwater, like it’s a recording of yourself you’re listening to.

As shaky and weak as you are, your hand manages to fist in Megumi’s hair and pull him back. His long eyelashes flutter a segment open, like he’s checking you’re real and here, before he draws himself up blindly to collapse beside you on the rug as you catch your breath.

A little like a tired puppy, Megumi drops his forehead against your shoulder and buries his face into the damp skin. Your arm curls around his back loosely, heat prickling your skin, and you clear your hoarse throat to speak coherently for the first time since he pushed himself inside you.

“You did really good.” You mumble, eyes closed and head tilted back. “So good.”

If a fresh sheen of tears starts to leak out onto your skin where Megumi is buried, you don’t comment on it. He wouldn’t say it out loud to you, not in a million years, but he feels safe. In an odd way, considering he’s naked and spent next to you in his living room with your taste still coating his tongue.

“Maybe…” you giggle, eyes still lazily shut as your fingers trace shapes across his bare back. “You should livestream it next time.”

He groans and tightens his arms around you. “Absolutely not.”

masterlist

a/n: thank you all so, so, so much again!! + this post was mainly inspired by @lipstainedgemini ‘s lovely posts about camboy megumi! <33

tags:

@yvannaille @f33bs @loverofladybugs @p3stop3sta @arabellasolstice @dreamcastgirl99 @what-the-jams @likstars @elenathriel @gyusheadphones @savagecatsuga @wqsrs @kakuthefish @megssleepygirl @olegirldowntheblock @sugerfilled @mershyjershy @1cckedheart @mimicosmos8 @destenyyyyy @icebearcucumber @satoru2716 @mebodys @megumisrighttoe @toesy3 @ivankinnieclatter @v4mp1r3b4tzz @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @stqrgumi @skylaryippee @iridescentshine @hanges-wife @rengoatku @lilyalone @cherryfawnie @toro-inouelover @bowiesprettieststar2 @mischivana @themoonknowsyourname @lovingplum @tellria @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred @itimisu @sailormarsinanotherlife @immortalkyodii @introvertedfreakk @cat-boydestroyer

[jiimeniita]

yo has anyone seen a lupin x vampire!reader fic in which the reader is secretly a vampire (no shit) and i 4got the rest but at the end they get freaky and he lets reader drink his blood if you have PLEASE tell me the name

[flintyfae]

zine i made about being a boring queer!

nothing more natural than changing and evolving and learning and discovering things about yourself.

happy pride from this fat trans butch

[chanmiriko]

jabber is so naturally moe

[thegodov]

[nvuy]

@exltwounds told me they were having a shit day so i wrote this depravity that i’ve had unfinished in my works for so long because we don’t write fluff on this channel. happy saturday!!!!

warnings; 18+, no gendered terms but reader is afab, slight dubcon, improper use of tokushin but i mean that literally, tamsy is an obsessed reprobate

“Get that thing away from me,” you snap from beneath him.

Tamsy pouts. “You don’t like her?” He twirls his wrist and the loose string rewraps itself around the staff.

“‘Her?’” you repeat.

“Tokushin is a pretty girl,” he claims. “And well behaved. Well, better behaved than you.” He stares at the object for a moment as if it speaks directly to him.

“Of course it is, it’s an object.”

“An object that does my bidding,” he corrects. He wishes you were the same. He’ll get you there eventually. He can’t wait to memorise your expressions.

You feel the staff and the harsh wool slide up along your leg, just shy of your pelvis.

“Wait a second…”

You feel his hand shift. He holds onto the larger part of the distaff, keeping the thread tightly locked around the cage. The small handle taps once along the bone, harsh and hard.

You try to close your legs. You manage with some success before he pries them back open and slots his hips in the middle. The bed dips with the added weight.

He stares at you almost like he’s bored. His free hand creeps from beneath your thigh and loops upwards until his fingers find the skin along your hip below your panties.

To this, he looks displeased. “Why do you even have these on?” He tugs once at the fabric. His lips pull to the side. His fingers are skittish, wildly feeling the expanses of skin he’d otherwise never access. Your stomach pools beneath his touch. Your thighs lock around his waist, desperate to just close so you can get up and leave.

“You’re not serious, right?” you ask nervously.

“About?” His thumb presses to your clothed clit. He grinds down, careful not to let his nail snag on the fabric. It catches easily against malleable flesh he wants to ruin.

His thumb then dips around the hemming of your panties and slides curiously until he’s pulled the fabric to the side. He almost laughs at the glitter pooling around your hole. You visibly clench once exposed, and you grit your teeth.

Something cold slides along your navel. It’s solid, like wood.

You bark out a cry, “That’s enough!”

“I haven’t even started yet,” he says. “Just relax.” The rounded wooden tip of Tokushin’s handle presses gently to your clit. It circles the bundle once, twice, three times, then again and again, and you realise he’s not teasing you.

He pushes down harder, angling left and right slightly until your hips eventually twitch. You let out a sob when he hits you just right. His free hand holds you down by the stomach. You can’t help but try to squirm. The ache is awful; the nerves fire up into your belly and deep inside. It’s almost painful. It’s a slow crawl to finish, and Tamsy only lets up just before you can cross the edge.

“See? Isn’t it lovely?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the distaff in his hands. You clench again. He removes his jinki for a moment before his thumb returns to rub gently at your clit, almost like a reward. Almost in praise of laying there and letting him have his way with you.

He’s not really looking at your face though. His eyes are glued to the glitter between your legs. It glimmers tauntingly, and his thumb slides easily to encompass the wetness pooling over your cunt.

You’re so easy.

He shifts for a moment. He flips his hair back with a quick turn of his head before he shrinks down and tastes the pad of his thumb. He almost drools before he lowers himself enough for a gander with his tongue.

He ignores, with effort, your swollen clit. His nose nudges unintentionally against it and you gasp. He needs you wetter than this, and he decides his spit will do the trick. His tongue glides easily against your cunt, tracing the rim of your hole with a dizzy groan. You reel your hips back to pull away from him, but he simply chases.

His fingers lock your thighs in place. Your legs ache from being held so far apart, and the humiliation almost outweighs the feeling of him utterly devouring you. His tongue is hotter than you feel.

Your cunt oozes with slick that he happily drinks.

He wants nothing more than to press his tongue deep inside and stay there for hours. He thinks he deserves it. He thinks the only way to get close is to have every part of him inside of you until he’s in your skin, and you’re one of the same.

His cock strains in his pants.

His brows furrow.

He refrains.

You’re hot. Your skin is on fire. The ceiling only spins. Tamsy is the only thing you can focus on, and how he pulls back every so often and you get a glimpse of his tongue flattening against your clit.

He knows it’s working. He also gets lost eventually when his hand works between his thighs. You’re slowly forgetting his intentions. You barely even register the handle of Tokushin twisting gently and coating in slick. He slides it over the rim of your hole. Maybe you just think it’s his finger; it’s certainly thin enough, but not nearly as warm.

Tamsy’s nose flattens against your pelvis as his tongue works your clit. You heave, hole clenching around the handle before he angles the instrument just enough to push in just an inch.

You immediately seize. The dull ache of his tongue becomes a needed distraction. He sucks gently and your thighs twitch open instinctively.

The ache grows worse. His tongue slides over your clit over and over again.

“Fuck,” you manage.

And it feels so good that you begin laughing.

Tamsy pushes further. The handle sinks deeper inside of you and you sigh in relief.

Ooh. Tamsy grins into your cunt.

It’s when the entire handle is inside that you squirm. The handle is cold and stiff. He twists it gently and you jerk.

“That’s…”

Tamsy pulls back. Experimentally, he pulls the handle out slowly.

You hiss when he pushes the entire length back in. You reach downward and try to shove him off with gritted teeth, but Tamsy jerks his wrist backwards and wretches the handle out of you completely. You tense up as his tongue abandons your clit.

One of his hands splays out on your hip. You stiffen in retaliation, ready to bark out at the premise of him pushing down and pinning you to the bed. He crawls up to your hips, then your waist, then both of his hands push down eagerly on your shoulders.

You huff and his hair blows out of your face.

You can see his grin in the low orange dim of the lamp.

“You look disappointed,” he observes. “Am I not good enough?”

“No…” Your chest strains beneath your shirt. “No, you’re good.” You feel small beneath him. “You’re great.”

He breathes sporadically. His breath hits your face in waves. His pupils are blown out, and his eyes dart frantically across every lift of your eyebrow, or every twitch of your nose, or the slight tremble in your lip.

Then, his smile drops.

“Do you love me?”

You blink, completely stunned by his question. “What?”

Tamsy looks expectant. “I love you.” His eyes widen at his own confession. There’s a shaky grin on his lips, open mouthed and almost too large for his face. His teeth are covered in spit, and a glimmer of saliva escapes the corner of his mouth. “A lot.”

You shift beneath his weight on your shoulders. Sweat covers your neck and every delicate piece of cartilage that weaves into your collarbone. The flesh is littered in pink and purple.

“Really?” you ask.

Tamsy hums. He’s still staring. He leans downward slightly. One of his hands abandons your shoulder to tap the yarn strewn around Tokushin against your cheek.

“I love you,” he reaffirms.

“I…” The handle of his instrument is sparkling in the low lights of your bedroom. “I love you too…”

“Oh.” Tamsy freezes. It’s like the entire world stops for a moment, and he stares through you like he can see every interaction of your veins. Like he could reach beneath your flesh and twist until every line pulled free from its place.

You hear nothing but the creaking of the bed when you shift, and the unsteady breathing emitting from his mouth. It’s so shaky you worry he’s not getting enough air.

“You okay…?” you whisper to him.

You can barely see his face.

“Hey…” you utter.

“Hi,” he responds. He bites his lip so hard it bleeds. The pain is enough to snap him from his stupour. He wants your knuckles embedded onto his flesh. He wants to burn black and blue from all the love you can promise him. “I’m okay.”

“Show me what she can do,” you say quickly. You reach upwards and cup your hand around his instrument. “You said she’s good, right?”

Tamsy doesn’t respond.

You think you’re trembling.

Tamsy’s eye twitches. Jealousy surges hot in his veins.

You screwed up. You stiffen immediately. “What can you do, with her?” Your hand jerks from his instrument to clasp his hand. Your fingers slot between his, and your forearm pressed to his own. You feel his crinkled sleeve that you’d snipped at with your teeth to tease him, and the outline of one of your bracelets he wears. “What can you do to me?”

Tamsy swoons and his nose nuzzles into your cheek.

Tokushin trembles in your grasp, and her strings whirl first around your wrist and his, gathering tight until your fingers feel fused to his. He keeps your hand locked with his. He wraps his other arm around your waist beneath you on the bed.

“Love you,” he murmurs into your throat.

[llastr08o]

Tamsy f word caine. Ruined my pride month

I has studio paint now

[krilleaterr]

can you draw ness as a puppyboy and he’s like blushing and kinda sad or whatever 🤤

hi does this look ok i hate drawing on my ipad so its traditional 😭 ik i said i’d do em when i get home but this one got me excited

[jiimeniita]

OH MY GOD HES FUCKING GLORIOUS

he looks so cute and sad aw also i luv the detail of his hair sigh luv it luv it luv it

[sergeon]

"We know we both keep switching our roles of the hunter and the prey"

(Bite bite bite me more please)

"But no matter who is chasing, we both get lost along the way"

(Bite bite bite me more please)

"I’ll conquer the dragon realm with relative ease Or show me your fangs and bite bite bite me more please"

"Burn me down to ash, it’ll make me your masterpiece"

"Pull me close and smash and bite bite BITE ME MORE PLEASE!"

[Lyrics from "BITE ME MORE PLS" by Camellia]

[tiasd1ary]

ꨄ︎ ❝ SAE ITOSHI getting hard during makeout session with his

girl! ❞

When Sae returns your shared apartment, he's exhausted. The training today, as much as he hates to admit, really pushed him to his limits. The warm shower he had afterwards did little to soothe the burning he felt in his muscles. On top of that, during all the useless things his schedule included, he could barely talk to you over text.

"Sae?" You call out from the living room after hearing the door shut with a "clink!". Sae drops his bag on the floor with carelessness in favor of seeing his girlfriend, footsteps silent. He flops down next to you, taking in your appearance after hours of absence. You press a soft kiss on the corner of his lips and Sae leans in a teeny tiny bit into the warmth of your lips. Sae wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer in a half-assed hug, but it's the thought that counts, right?

You stay in silence for a moment. It's not awkward or uncomfortable, but you haven't talked all day. "I missed you." You mumble and Sae sighs. He leans down slightly and captures your lips with his before pulling back slightly and muttering "Missed you too." against your lips. He cups your cheeks and strokes your cheek slightly with his thumb, looking oh-so-lovingly into your eyes and you just cant resist leaning in for another kiss.

The kiss was meant to be somewhat innocent; a soft, lingering kiss as an act of affection. But nor you or Sae can pull back once his and your lips lock, tongues eventually meeting. Sae’s hand that isn’t cupping your cheek grips your hip, closing his eyelids as he focuses solely on you.

You can smell Sae’s scent, shampoo and his expensive cologne from the proximity. You also shut your eyes to let your senses get suffocated by him.

Sae feels warmth inside, and after a few moments of making out, also a familiar tingling sensation spreading across his spine, stomach and his whole body. He can already tell blood is rushing south, and a boner is most likely present in his pants. Usually, he would simply fuck you stupid for the love of the game, however he is so tired that all he wants to do is sleep and maybe cuddle.

With a sigh, he pulls back a little and you can see something is wrong when you look at his almost expressionless face. It doesn’t take a genius to go ahead and guess because you can feel his hardened cock press against your leg. “Why so negative?” You ask, tilting your head slightly. it’s sex time soo, why is he looking like that?

Sae debates on ruining the mood and telling you the truth, but due to his blunt nature he settles on the latter without a second thought. “‘m tired.”

Oh, so that’s it. You can see Sae looks tired, but he looks somewhat frustrated as well. So, as the wonderful girlfriend, you take the matter into your own hands.

“Leave it to me, babe.”

Your hands go to the zipper of Sae’s pants, brushing against the tent in his pants. Sae watches your hand curiously, leaning back slightly. You unzip his pants and pull his boxers down, freeing his cock to the air. Sae takes a deep breath as you stroke it a little before licking from the base of his shaft to the tip. His hands grip the sofa, a low hum escaping him. Your moves are slow, teasing him. You smirk just a little and look up at Sae, and he swears he gets harder.

He groans when you take his tip into the warmth of your mouth, tongue teasingly touching it. You offer some sucking to the area and make Sae release pleasurable moans. Your hands sneak down to play with his balls, toying with the sensitiveness. Sae leans his head back and shuts his eyes with a shaky breath, letting himself drown in the pleasure as you take more of his hardness into your mouth and suck on it.

When your tongue swirls around his shaft, one hand toying with his balls and the other stroking the area your mouth isn’t occupied with, Sae accidentally releases a low moan. It’s humiliating for him, but he doesn’t have time to react when you realize he likes it and continue with your tongue. Your mouth is just so wet and warm that he can’t stop another moans from the intense pleasure when you dip your head lower and bottom out. Sae is panting, eyes shut. You start to bob your head up and down, focused on helping him feel euphoric.

And Sae feels exactly like that. The electric tingle, the build up.. He can’t hold back moans and groans, his hands moving to your hair to grip them. You hum and he can feel the vibration in his dick slightly. “Fuck–“ he says under his breath when he feels his heart speed up, breathing getting shallow and rapid. His muscles tense up, muscular thighs tightening around your head as he groans. “I’m so close–“

It feels so, so good for him right now. He parts his eyes just slightly and sees you looking up at him and oh God, he almost cums immediately. Your mouth is full with his cock, trying to pleasure him with the warmth and wetness of your mouth. He can’t help but shut his eyes again, moaning. His pleasure intensifies and before he knows it, his dick releases white, thick liquid out in a couple of spurts into your mouth. There is an amazing sensation in his lower abdomen, and he lets himself relish in the pleasure. Sae finally opens his eyes when his climax is over, still recovering from the heavenly feeling.

He watches as you swallow his semen, letting go of your hair and stroking it gently instead. The thick liquid slides through your throat and you take a breath.

“Thanks.”

“Nice moans.”

“Shut up.”

Oh to be Sae's gf... I'd let him have me in doggy every night

© @tiasd1ary 〣 dont steal, translate or feed my work to ai.

[thegodov]

Fem Janka

[shklanka]

Not one-sided not requited but a secret third thing.