i’m blaileen, or mrs blaileen if you’re feeling extra polite. (<20’s, any pronouns despite the username).
warnings. 18+ nsfw mdni. may contain dark themes and hard & soft kinks. the epitome of “oh no it’s the authors barely concealed kink!”. if you don’t like, please don’t read - to be cringe is to be free!!
this is a side blog, so unfortunately I can’t follow back, but trust I will be lurking on my main.
while my works are generally not intended to be exclusively aimed at readers with/of any particular physical attributes/gender expression/sexuality/ethnicity/race/background - you may find some descriptions of mc/reader are more inline with my own identity.
requests are open!! but please note that I will decline or simply not write any prompts that I’m not comfortable with/interested in! (I also may take a little time to respond, please don’t be offended - I truly appreciate every message!)
I will not write: incest, anything other than fluff for underage characters, cheating tropes …
likes, reblogs, kudos, and comments are always appreciated.
edging choso until he’s jelly in your lap, until all he can manage to do is blink down at where you’re stroking him with teary low-lidded eyes, huffing out strangled little moans. It’s not long until he’s close again, squirming in your lap and dribbling sticky over the mess of his toned thighs. and when you purr into his ear for him to “say the magic words”, the only thing that slips out from his bitten lips is a breathy “I love you…”
reader who was Geto’s kouhai and had a crush on him during their school days. You spiral into a depression after Geto’s death, an empty hole in your chest where your heart used to be left in his wake, so when Kenjaku appears wearing the face of your old flame it doesn’t take long - or much convincing from that silver tongue of his - before you find yourself beneath him, gazing up at that familiar smile stretched just a little too wide at the edges. He moves above you lithe and serpentine, and you press your palms over his forehead, desperate to hide the seam of stitches dotted there while he gazes down at you, dark eyes glimmering with a perverse sort of delight, tenfold when you start to cry…
As much as I love sub crybaby bottom Choso, I also love service top Choso who’s definitely subservient, but not quite in a submissive way. nsfw 18+ drabble mdni.
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Choso is the type of devoted that ensures he knows exactly what you need at any time day or night, because he pays attention to your body language like it’s his favourite hobby. Keeps tabs on every minute twitch of your thighs, every hitch of your breath or flutter of your lashes the same way he tracks how much water you’ve drank in a day, or the last time you ate something. He’s the type to let you sink down on his cock or grind against his mouth whenever you please. He’ll abandon whatever menial task he was doing prior, immediately consumed by you, utterly devoted to taking you apart - wringing orgasm after dizzying orgasm out of you until your legs have turned to jelly and all you can manage to do is slur out some breathy sound in the vague shape of his name.
No matter how long it takes, how red raw he feels, he’ll keep going until you’re well and truly satisfied, and then some. Using all of that inhuman endurance to keep you stuffed nice and full until you’re literally begging him to stop. He’ll peer down at you with those big brown eyes, low lidded and hazy and oh so full of love, murmuring sweet little coos of “right here, huh baby? feels good right here?” while he rubs messy hearts over your clit. You’re barely over your last orgasm - erring on overstimulated when he pushes you right against the edge again with a few well placed thrusts, “what’s that? you want another one?” because the only way he feels accomplished is with you sobbing in pleasure and utterly boneless after he’s broken you.
rlly into the flavour of chonao (naocho?) recently where choso is adamant that he can change naoya’s shitty attitude, and naoya is tsundere asf trying to act like he’s not popping a boner every time choso praises him when he does something “right”. he holds a door open for an old woman, or - god forbid - actually apologises to someone, and choso just beams proudly at him, fixing him with a warm smile and an affirming pat on the shoulder like he’s a fucking toddler who just learned how to share for the first time. it’s humiliating, but he can’t deny the way his chest feels a little tighter at the sight of choso so goddamn pleased, and the mix of genuine warmth and physical contact goes straight down to naoya’s cock.
husband!nanami calms you down after you have a meltdown trying to find something to wear
warnings. fem!reader, body worship, praise, kissing, clit play, body image issues, nipple play, implied plus sized reader but read how you like, general insecurities, fluffy smut. nsfw 18+ mdni.
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You’d been trying to get dressed for the last hour.
More precisely, you’d been trying to find anything at all that didn’t make you feel bloated, or oddly proportioned, or downright ugly to wear to your husband’s very important work event, which also just so happened to be happening very soon.
You’d torn your shared wardrobe apart. Scattered every dress or piece of party attire you think you’d ever owned across every square inch of your bedroom, and yet here you stood, buck naked aside from the old band shirt you’d tugged on in a furious fit after the last dress you’d tried on had made you feel like a trussed up Christmas turkey.
With tears prickling hotly in your eyes and a sob threatening to break free in your throat, you tossed yourself onto your bed. Wallowing amidst a plethora of abandoned gowns and several shoes missing their pairs.
Your husband, for all his patience and tact, had remained at your side throughout the ordeal. Silent aside from a few well intended comments which, by no fault of his own, had only left you spiralling further.
He now settled onto the bed beside you, a quiet, steady presence. You listened to the gentle creak of the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he leaned over you, studying your expression with a concerned one of his own.
“Kento,” you huffed, “I’m trying to- ah…”
The sudden heat of his fingers stole any further words from you, his hand slipping between your bare thighs with a precision that was almost alarming.
“I know sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, like his fingers weren’t beginning to tease over your clit, rubbing slow firm circles into you, “but you’re going to work yourself into a state.”
Your jaw was slack, glossy eyes downturned just to watch his wrist curl between your thighs, which had split almost immediately either side of his forearm.
“Just relax for me, just for a minute.”
The circles he was drawing were beginning to sound wet, sloppy where you were easing into his touch, body betraying you in favour of the delicious friction of his fingers.
“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he cooed, leaning in to brush his lips over your throat, feel the gentle hum of your pulse against his lips as his spare hand thumbed at the hem of your shirt.
“You’re worried over nothing, you look beautiful in everything.”
You shook you head limply, but he didn’t back down, instead the hand petting at the hem of your shirt stilled, then lifted, slowly peeling the fabric up. The reveal was slow, inch by inch new of skin - your hips, the curve of your belly, the soft peaks of your chest - until your entire abdomen lay bare atop the crinkled sheets.
“Ken,” you huffed, lower lip pushed out into a pout as you blinked down at your exposed body past the crumpled neck of your shirt, the same valley of bumps and dips and curves that were the very source of your agitation.
Nanami ignored your argument, instead lowering his chin to press a slow, open mouthed kiss to your stomach before he eased back to reply.
“What is it my love?” He questioned innocently, breath curling warm over your bare stomach, sticky where he’d left glistening lip prints.
“Stop,” you managed, though it was evident that your heart wasn’t in it, much to preoccupied in watching the way his lashes fluttered as he pressed another kiss to your skin, this time just below the curve of your breast where your heart was fluttering like a caged canary. “it’s embarrassing…”
“Embarrassing?” Nanami echoed, lifting his head to meet your gaze, “You really want me to stop?”
The hand petting between your spread thighs slowed, and he blinked up at you with those tired, beautiful eyes that made your chest ache. The simple sight of that endless honey brown was enough to melt you, gazing into your eyes like you’d hung the very stars.
You found yourself shaking your head, and the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, worried lines worn smooth between his knitted brows.
“Then you’ll have to allow me a few kisses, deal?”
The movement of his hand resumed, dipping down just far enough to gather some of your wetness before he was pressing the slick pads of his fingers to your clit again, rubbing in sweet tight little heart shapes now.
“Oh… okay, okay…”
You sighed and let your head fall backward, nestled between pillows as your eyes fluttered closed and you allowed yourself to wade deeper into the soothing bliss he was offering.
Nanami worked dutifully below your line of sight. Fingers rolling in sinful strokes, each press of his lips bolder than the last until finally they sealed flat around a perked nipple and he began suckling lightly.
You arched into the sensation, spine curved and chest lifted to meet the wet heat of his mouth as he moved.
“Oh, Ken…”
He groaned softly, the sound thick with adoration. His teeth grazed gently over the sensitive bud before he moved to the next and administered the same treatment. Laving a fresh burst of kisses over the swell of your breast before sucking the pebbled nub into his mouth, tongue swirling beneath the vacuumed pressure.
You found yourself teetering on the edge much quicker than you’d have liked to admit, testament to just how on edge you were, and how well your husband read your body. With the steady rub of his fingers and the hot press of his lips peppering your skin, the sticky heat blooming in your belly peaked swiftly - tightening to a coiled knot which snapped with the next well placed nip of his teeth.
Nanami worked you through it, fingers slowing but not stopping until you whined, crossing into the realm of overstimulation, and he lifted away to instead trace gentle shapes into your twitching thigh.
In the sizzling afterglow you lay panting into the messed sheets, head tilted to take in the sight of your husband as he adjusted his frames and smoothed your shirt back over your chest. Not missing the way his eyes caught on the sight of his sucking marks blooming over your skin.
“You’re too good at that, Ken,” you breathed, voice utterly softened by pleasure.
“Not too good,” Nanami replied smoothly, leaning in to speak the next words against your lips, “exactly what you deserve.”
With that he lifted his chin to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, though it landed wayward when you tilted your head to instead capture his lips in a cheeky kiss.
He indulged you, let you hum into his mouth, run your tongue over his lips until he yielded. You shivered when his lips parted, and you finally felt the silky heat of his tongue against your own.
He split from you as the kiss deepened, just shy of too heavy to pull back from. Though he looked a little pained by the notion, cheekbones and the tips of his ears dusted a sweet rosy pink.
“What about the blue dress?” You offered, lifting your hand to tuck a stray strand of gold behind his blushed ear, “the silk one, the one I wore to your office party last spring.”
Nanami exhaled, and all the weight of the world seemed to melt away with the motion. His head tilted into your touch, where your knuckles had abandoned his hair in favour of drawing slow soothing lines over his cheekbones.
“You know, that’s my favourite.”
You smiled at that, chest and cheeks warm.
“Sure it is, Ken.”
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a/n. written in honour of me genuinely sobbing trying to get dressed this morning so not proofread yippeeeee, anyway live laugh love nanami <3
this pose because I was thinking about Sukuna shoving his fingers into your mouth deep enough to wrench your jaw open, make it so your tongue lolls out and you’re forced to drool pitifully onto the floor and all over his fingers while he hits it from behind …
Lord Sukuna is not generous with his time, nor with his attention. In fact, the blessing of his gaze is a renowned rarity. Even the sight of his favorite servant perched and willing on his lap is not enough to draw his eye. Little does he know you have a secret hidden beneath your kimono reserved for his eyes only, something that’s sure to capture his attention.
warnings. heian!sukuna, inappropriate use of Sukuna’s extra mouths, possessive behaviour, cunnilingus, petnames (literally), nipple play, nipple piercings, era typical violence, mentions of blood and war, servant/master, trueform!sukuna, powerplay, devotion, light degradation. nsfw 18+ mdni.
✎ Words: 3.0k | Ao3 | Masterlist
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The throne room was still, windows un-blinded to allow the cool morning light to creep lazily across the marbled floors like wayward fingers. Tendrils of light curled over incense vases and bronze sculptures, mapping the intricate carvings beneath their touch, the polished metal glinted richly in the soft light. It was quiet too, filled only by the occasional crisp turning of a page, and your own half muffled panting.
The King of Curses was sat atop his throne, hulking form relaxed and lazed into the great chair as if it were made for him - which of course, it was. The regal structure hand carved from white bleached ivory and wood stained dark with age, patterns woven into the grain with the finest threads of gold. In one massive hand he held a leather bound novel, another rested beneath his chin to hold the weight of his great head. The other two lay limp across either armrest, blackened nails tapping mindlessly along the patterned oak.
All four of his eyes were locked onto the tanned pages of the novel, tracing lazily along the script printed there. He was utterly still, the only movement was the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, and the periodic lifting of one hand which rested atop the throne, raised every so often to flip to the next page. His expression was a flat mask, and he spared not a single glance for you, even as the tongue peeking from between his softened abs continued to lap lazily at your bare cunt from beneath the spread folds of his kimono.
You’d been perched atop his muscled thighs for what felt like hours without so much as a glance from him, entirely ignored by your lord, if you discounted the attention of his stomach maw, of course. Though at this point you considered it a separate being from him entirely, given its unadulterated enthusiasm for you. As if to prove your point, the mouth below slurped loudly between your trembling thighs in an obscene sucking kiss, and you choked back another feeble moan, biting your own tongue hard enough that you swore you tasted the sharp pang of blood.
With the next rush of pleasure you allowed your head to drop forward, eyes squeezed closed and brows knitted - maddened by his detached discipline. There was a time when you would have been horrified to be seen acting so shamefully before your lord. But having been permitted this small taste of paradise, you couldn’t help but devolve to your baser instincts, left to the whims of your deepest desires.
With the next slick swipe of his great tongue, your eyes rolled back, and your head followed suit. You fell with the motion of it, hands grasping desperately at his knees where they were spread behind you, as if they could ground you. Your chin tilted skyward, throat bared and lips parted as you finally allowed a broken moan to escape you - unable to ignore the heat sizzling in your belly any longer.
With the realization of what you had done, you blinked your eyes open, the action feeling slow and sticky with the cocktail of pleasure and embarrassment pulsing through you. As your bleary vision came back into focus, you found that instead of reading as you’d expected, Sukuna was instead watching you now - concentration likely broken by your unashamed cry. With a sharp jolt of shock, you met his gaze - all four carmine eyes narrowed in lazy assessment, expression relaxed - bored, even. But there was something unnamed simmering behind his eyes, burning hot as dying coals.
You’d usually have looked away already, feigned shyness, or diverted your gaze purely out of a mix of fear and sheer respect. But now, with the thrill of pleasure thrumming hotly through your veins beginning to feel an awful lot like confidence, you simply sucked in another shuddered lungful and held his heated gaze. He raised a single pink brow in reply, the edges of his mouth twitching in apparent amusement at your boldness.
“What’s this?” He mused, folding the book closed and abandoning it atop the armrest without bothering to spare it another glance, “feeling bold today, are we?”
As if to test the limits of your newfound confidence, the slow lapping of his tongue ceased, replaced instead by the pointed tip beginning to trace your swollen clit in tight, practiced circles. The slick muscle swirled indulgently until he felt you shudder atop him.
“Or do you just long for my attention so badly that you’ve stooped to blatant disrespect?”
Your hands tightened where they were gripping the thick expanse of his thighs for dear life, working wrinkles into the fabric as you leaned back on his knees to leverage the motion of your rolling hips.
“I’d only like for you to look at me, -hn-… my lord” you managed, shivering as his tongue swiped once more in a particularly well placed lick.
“Is that so?” He drawled, eyes lowered in consideration of your modest attire, tracing the high neckline of your kimono - still concealing your entire abdomen despite the bareness of your lower half. “Give me something worthy to fix my gaze upon then, pet.”
The workings of his belly mouth didn’t cease, it simply slipped down lower to lick at your slick entrance instead, leaving your clit glistening and bare. Twitching and soaked in spit - cooling to a plane of ice in the empty air.
You sucked in a long breath, then shifted enough that you didn’t fall when you raised a trembling hand to loosen the band belted at your waist, then began to peel the kimono open. Sukuna said nothing further, simply watched through half lidded eyes as you worked the folds of fabric open, drinking in each new strip of skin as if he could sustain himself on the sight alone.
Your face flushed despite yourself, suddenly nervous beneath the intensity of his watchful gaze. Your hand was trembling as it slid down the valley of your kimono, parting the folded layers until your body lay bare in the crisp air.
Nearly bare, you should say, as a single piece of attire still clung to your form - a delicate harness of glittering chains so thin as to look akin to silken spider webs laced across your skin. The loops of shimmering gold were christened at each crossroad with a dangling jewel stained ruby red - red as his eyes, red as blood. The largest of the gems hung at the peak of either nipple, where the chain pierced through your pebbled skin, each bud encased in a glinting bar.
Though he hid it well, you didn’t miss the subtle bob of Sukuna’s thick throat, or the way his lower set of eyes dropped to rake over the glittering peaks of your pierced nipples. His pupils were blown wide and black as night beneath his lashes, watching the light bounce off the jewels while you continued to rock your hips in a sultry sway.
“Is this to your liking, my lord?” You questioned in a helplessly breathy tone, chin lowered, lips parted as you panted softly at the sensation of your clit still kissing his slackened tongue.
The crimson of Sukuna’s eyes was nothing but a collection of thin fiery rings, suns eclipsed by black holes when he met your gaze again. A great hand lifted from its place atop the throne to instead finger the dangling rubies, flicking at them with a blackened nail, admiring how they were warm to the touch, tempered by the heat of your body.
“These are the rubies pillaged from the settlement at the base of the mountain, are they not?” He mused, voice deceptively light, as though he were reminiscing on a particularly enjoyable memory.
His wandering hand abandoned the glittering jewels to instead loop beneath one of the delicate golden strings. He toyed with the chain, rubbing it thoughtfully between his fingers as he spoke.
“I destroyed it,” came his next proclamation, voice edged with something akin to pride, “slaughtered each soul and burned every building to ash. These jewels are all that remain of it, the very last shred of their history, their riches, their legacy.”
His thick fingers still twirling the chains between them suddenly went rigid, hooked tightly around the primary chain linking your decorated nipples, and your breath caught like a stone in your throat.
“And now my pet wears them atop her flesh like a prize.”
In a controlled motion he tugged his wrist backward, and a surprised cry slipped from your lips at the sudden sharpness. Jewels jingled melodically, and your nipples tugged taut, pinched tightly beneath the bite of the chain. He made a satisfied sound, a rumbled purr as he watched your spine arch into a sinful curve at the motion of his pulling. He gave a few exploratory tugs just to watch the gems glitter, beaming blood red droplets over the tender skin of your breasts.
“So, you enjoy my spoils of war, do you?” He mused, watching the red stained light dance across your flesh, “shall I bring you the head of a slain warrior next time, so you may paint yourself in the last drops of their blood?”
He grinned then, sharp and animal, as if picturing the sight of your bare flesh marked in the remnants of his fallen foes. How would the delicate angles of your curves look bathed in red? The soft plumpness of your thighs, your breasts, smeared with the very essence of life? How would you react to such a raw gift? How would your pretty face contort when he lowered his head and licked every bloody inch of you clean?
His lower tongue swiped another devouring line across your twitching cunt, and you shuddered, eyes fluttering at the stark contrast between the wet heat of his mouth and the searing sting of his curling wrist. His grin widened at the sight, gaze swirling now with an evident and hungry interest.
“How delicious.”
You exhaled a shaky breath when the pressure of his tugging eased slightly, head dizzy with the consuming sensation of his mouth still pressing sucking kisses to your lower half. Your shoulders curled a little more with each lave of his great tongue, collapsing in a subtly defensive posture, melting into him, into his touch. Another of his hands snaked up your spine, and you shivered beneath the sudden contact.
“You dare to slouch before me?” He scoffed, and the hand petting at your hip lifted to instead pinch at the soft skin in a sharp corrective motion.
“Ah!-“ You cried, squirming as the chain pulled taut once more, tugging cruelly at your tender nipples until a stinging burn bloomed beneath the haze of pleasure.
Your spine straightened in an instant, forced upward and then some by the incessant pull of the harness. Your shoulders rolled backward, chest bare and raw nipples perked, glittering chains swinging lightly with residual thrums of motion.
You gripped his thighs now, arms outstretched behind you, forcing your tender breasts upward. The obscenity of the sight was not lost on him, in fact you could all but feel the way his heated gaze raked over your form. Eyes devouring each shudder, each twitching muscle, each jiggle of plump flesh. The way your nipples were bitten dark and swollen beneath the warmth of the golden chain, budded beneath the blood red jewels.
“Much better,” he praised, finger still hooked tight, the way you might lead a wayward bull by the great brass ring poked between its nostrils. “Now, apologize.”
The worming tongue between your thighs, previously stroking teasing circles around your entrance, now began to prod. It was enough to have your vision turning glassy, and when his tongue finally pressed its way inside your weeping hole you choked on your next breath, and your eyes rolled skyward.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my lord,” you blabbered, lashes fluttering, “Hah!- please, I beg your forgiveness. Please, mercy.”
Through the blackness you heard him chuckle, the sound was deep and dark and sticky sweet as spiced rum. Then came the delicate metallic jingle of the chain as he pulled again, this time in a steady rhythm - forcing you to ride his tongue in time with the curl of his wrist.
“Come now, you don’t truly wish for mercy, do you? Your needy body betrays you, pet,” he accused. “I can feel the way you tighten, twitching against my tongue each time I pull on these little strings. Like a puppet being made to dance.”
He tugged again, not hard enough to risk tearing the chain, but firmly enough that the string pulled taut and another sharp pang of pain sizzled over your chest. The tip of him continued its mapping of your slick entrance, probing further inside until it hit something soft, and you gasped for the stinging stretch of the thick muscle.
“So you enjoy it, then, hm? Being my little puppet?”
You could do nothing but nod in reply. Your mouth hanging slack, the thought of piecing together a coherent reply was an entirely foreign concept in the wake of the heady pleasure clouding your brain.
“Hm, what a filthy pet I’ve procured,” he hummed, though he sounded undeniably pleased, “dance for me then. Unravel yourself on my tongue.”
Without thought, you lifted a hand to wrap around his neck - fingers curling tight into the soft tufts of hair at his nape, hips rutting slick and hard against the back half of his outstretched tongue. To your surprise he didn’t stop you, or even scold you. In fact he was utterly silent, not voicing a single word of complaint, even when you abandoned his knee entirely in favor of wrapping both arms around his neck. Clutching tightly with trembling hands, using him as an anchor while you continued to grind desperately on his tongue.
“Oh, my lord… Sukuna, Sukuna, S’kuna…S’k-hnn…-ah-….” you echoed his name like a mantra, head tucked into the crook of his thick neck, panting hot and humid over the tattooed skin of his clavicle.
The motion of your hips was slowing to little more than stuttered humps, and your thighs burned even with the effort of that. Just as you were about to admit defeat, there was a sudden warmth, a solid pressure at your back - and to your surprise you realized it was one of his hands pressed to the curve of your lower spine. Another two slid over your thighs, thumbing at the bare skin there before he began rolling you along his lap in controlled, deep strokes.
“Disappointing,” he tutted, fingers splayed over your back, dipping beneath the delicate web of gold chain, “can’t even make yourself come without my assistance, can you?”
You were shaking your head before you could think better of it, “I can’t, please help me, let me come, please make me come… m’lord please, I need you.”
“What pretty begging,” he murmured, and it was enough to send a prickle of goosebumps over your flesh, the words as close to praise as you’d ever heard from him, and directed at you no less.
His grip on your waist tightened as he nudged his hips upward, and with a choked gasp you found yourself sliding forward and pressed tightly against him, bejeweled chest flush with his own. With the newfound closeness, the lips at his belly pressed flat to your body and began suckling in a lewd kiss.
With a relieved sort of breathy sound you let your eyes flutter closed as you nuzzled into the crease of his throat, nosing at the strip of skin beneath his ear and breathing in his soft scent. He smelt clean, regal, like royal incense and the mix of herbs, oils, and delicate petals you’d decorated his bath with earlier that morning. That sole realization, that tiny claim was enough to have you clutching him impossibly closer.
His chest rumbled with an uncharacteristically soft chuckle, huffed through his nose at your sudden neediness. His grip on your thighs was firm, fingers hooked around the plump flesh, thumbs tracing circles into your hipbones as he pulled you against his belly tongue in a slow sticky sweet rhythm.
“Come on, try a little harder now,” came his sultry purr, whispered into your ear like a taunt, a provocation.
It was then that you felt it - the thick length pressing against your tailbone, throbbing against the curve of your ass each time you pushed backward. As if that weren’t enough, before you could utter a reply, you felt the foreign brush of his nose, then his actual lips against your skin, and with a strangled cry you realized that he was pressing a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat.
It was embarrassing, really, the affect the entire ordeal had on you. But the slow press of his mouth, the nipping of his teeth against your delicate flesh all while you grinded against his lower tongue, it was enough to have you toeing the edge. And when his spare hand slipped across your bare shoulder blades to rest upon your nape, squeezing as if you were some wayward kitten, like you were owned - you were well and truly finished.
Your orgasm crept up slow, like the gentle curl of a wave, cresting overhead little by little until you found yourself enveloped - head shoved beneath the surface. He held you as you writhed, firm hands curled over your thighs, your throat, as your body wracked in rigid convulsions. His tongue, devoted as it was, drank in your spend - slurping and sucking greedily - feeling the way you twitched with residual little pangs of pleasure while you came down.
When the haze of your orgasm cleared you felt exhausted, shellacked with a sheen of sweat beneath the glittering golden harness. Sukuna's eyes remained on you, watching the rise and fall of your chest slow as your pulse settled back to a steady rhythm.
"Do I have your attention now, my lord?" You questioned, head tilted shyly despite your state.
"For now, pet,” he offered in a low chuckle, mouth splitting into a lazy grin.
His grip on your hips tightened, pushing you back until you felt the thick heat of him press between the slippery mess of your thighs. You gasped when the silky fabric grazed you, oversensitive in the wake of your climax. He rolled you indulgently over his lap for a few moments, letting your slick seep into the bulged fabric until it was painted dark and sticky beneath you.
hi queen, would u like to write about piercer!geto x shy reader ? like he sweet/dirty talk to her while getting her🍒 pierced (or wtv, lol) and then things starting getting freaky FREAKYYYY…🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
anyway if u may approve the idea then im very very happyyyyyy (would not say no if u wanna add a lil twist to it tho😝)
Hi!!
Oh I LOVE this idea so much yes yes yes!!
Reader comes in for a simple ear piercing and Geto uses that silver tongue of his (and readers shy attitude) to sweet talk her into getting her nipples pierced instead. He talks her through it in that smooth calm voice of his, maybe being a little too touchy supportive throughout the process, definitely erring on unprofessional when he compliments the way her tits look all red and threaded with glittering metal. It’s a little sadistic, the way he smiles while wiping the tears from her cheeks, and its entirely self indulgent when he tries to convince her to let him pierce her clit next…
I just finished tiger!kuna. Safe to say that one will be keeping em up tonight. HOWEVER! I noticed a repeated mention of a certain… ahem.. snow leopard. I would like to introduce the suggestion of, facility nurse x snow leopard Satoru Gojo who is going into rut early due to getting a whiff of Sukuna’s pheromones
Anyway, love you BYEEEEEE
Yay I’m so glad you liked tigerkuna!!
YES YES YES this idea!! I am drafting it as we speak - I’m thinking mouthy shameless Gojo who’s using his good looks (and readers tiny crush on him) to convince her to help him out…
