you blink as hiori’s lithe body slides in between your legs, spreading you apart as his eyes, wide and taking in everything in front of of him, stare at you—no, into you. like he’s looking into your soul.
you bite your lip as his chest presses against yours. “i mean,” you drawl out, with a smirk, “i don’t think it would hurt, would it?”
hiori’s lips split into a grin, devilish. his eyes darken as his hands grip at yours waist, pressing kisses as he descends down to your center. “mmm…don’t think it would, baby. lemme make ya feel good, yeah?”
his tongue licking through your folds feels electric as you arch into his mouth. he knows every angle of yours, every nook and cranny to make your nerves feel like they’re on fire. wet, swirling around you, it’s like you can’t escape once he’s attached to you. your eyes screw shut as the most sinful moans rip themselves from your throat, your fingers diving into his soft blue locks.
hiori devours you like a man starved, and when he moves away, his lips and chin stained with wetness, you shudder. “p-please—”
“please what?”
“f-fuck me, please—”
hiori grins even harder as his underwear comes off in one motion, his cock slapping against his stomach as he moves to be right over you, caging you in. “since ya asked soooo nicely.”
hiori’s cock feels like it’s made for you as it slides in, your walls stretching and making room for him as he all but plows into you. he pants, looking down at your face, and the eye contact feels…intoxicating. you need more. you need him to fuck you, not be nice to you.
“spit in my mouth.”
hiori’s eyes look like they’re going to blow out of their head, but he doesn’t even ask you why. all he does is spit into your open mouth, and—
and then you’re cumming, writhing around on the bed as hiori pins you down and fucks into you at a breakneck speed. the feeling of being degraded by him turns you on to a level that feels crazy. like you’re addicted and you can’t get off the ride you’re on. you need him so badly and he’s fucking you so well, just right—
hiori’s voice suddenly sounds right next to your ear as his hand wraps around your neck, gently squeezing your throat, as he rasps into your ear.
“you little freak. god, tha’s so fuckin’ hot, askin’ me to do that to you. treat ya like th’ lil’ slut i know ya are. fuck, fuck—”
you can tell he’s cumming now too, your second orgasm rising to meet him like a fellow ocean wave as you both crash into the shore together. white paints your walls, and hiori’s face digs into your neck as he fucks you at a pace that feels animalistic. like he can’t stop. like he doesn’t want to stop.
selfless in the sense that he makes absolutely sure you are spent before he even tries to put his cock in you. the type that looks up at you, your hands with fistfuls of his golden hair, with big blue eyes asking you how you’re feeling. if you feel good.
you know what he’s really asking. is he being good? is he making you feel good?
but that’s not all that you love about naruto.
deep down inside of him, you feel kurama. the nine-tails is impossible to ignore with his massive presence, practically swallowing you whole. they both feel a sense of protection over you, the very thought of you in any danger sending kurama himself into a rage. how could he forgive himself if he couldn’t protect you both?
kurama is not all that different to naruto in his machinations. when naruto’s deep inside of you, his cock stretching against your walls, you feel the fox inside of him brush against you, too. as if he is asking for your consent. you always chuckle when he does so. kurama, you say, how unlike you to ask for permission.
the fox reels back at the admission. it would be rude of me to encroach on this moment without asking, he only bites back, but you smile anyway as naruto’s skin blazes yellow, black markings appearing across his chest.
naruto really can tame anything, you think to yourself as his nose brushes against your own, panting. do ya feel good? he asks.
you nod. how could you not, when two beings are embracing you with equal measure?
-> owner!yukimiya x guard dog!oliver x bunny!reader. mentions of knotting, pussy inspections, voyeurism (oliver watches yukki play with you). ownership (yukki calls you his "pet") + yandere dynamics if you squint.
can’t stop thinking about owner!yukimiya and his little bunny hybrid, who dresses in frills and skirts and thigh highs in pastel blues and pinks and yellows. so pure and sweet, rutting against his leg whenever your heat overtakes you, blush reddening your cheeks in embarrassment as your prey instincts take over.
feeling yukki’s cock stretch you out but feeling like it’s never enough. you don’t mention it, though. yukki is so kind to you, cooing in your ear as you ooze all over him again and again, whispering how he could do this all day. how he could just leave you alone in this big house with a toy inside of you to please you, but what would the fun be in that?
and yukki knows when his talents are not enough. he is humble enough to admit it so, but he is not spineless enough to release his sense of control about it.
so instead, there’s a day where you catch a whiff of something terrifying. it chills you to your bones as you watch yukki open the door, the scent permeating all over the room as you recoil in fear at the dog that’s leaning over yukki's shoulder. he has a muzzle on his face, his multicolored eyes taking you in. blinking, sneering, snorting. “oh, isn’t she perfect?” yukki whispers to the newcomer, unclipping the leash, "be gentle with her. i want no marks, okay, oliver?"
the man’s ears flick in response. "no promises." there’s a prong collar around his neck; presumably to stop him in case he gets too far. in case he doesn’t follow the rules.
rule number one: no marking.
rule number two: no knotting.
he is your guard dog after all, yukki explains as he comes to sit next to you, preening you, oliver’s gaze watching you both like a predator. he explains that he can’t leave you alone in this big house by yourself anymore. that you might do something silly to yourself, like hurt yourself or try to escape and see the outside world. something that would ruin your innocence, he explains, and you believe him.
because why would yukki lie to you?
there’s drool dripping onto the floor from oliver's maw, soaking his scruff, and you scrunch your nose at it, whining to yukki that he’s gross, that you won’t do it. that you’re happy, that you’re perfectly content with him. that you’re sad that he made you feel as if he was not enough—
and that’s when you see yukki’s face. his steeled face, with no emotion fluttering across it like usual. because he knows you’re lying. "and you know how much i hate you lying to me, lovely," he whispers into your ear, "you know what happens when you do."
you shudder. "yes, yukki."
but the heat between your legs is hard to deny. you’re soaked, you can feel it before yukki even pushes your skirt aside, displaying you for oliver. “is she good enough for you?” he says, and you shudder against him. hearing him speak about you as if you were a piece of meat offered up to devour…it did something to you. it made your thighs clench. it made you feel sick and thrilled and wanting the dog in front of you, or yukki, to just do something—
yukki’s fingers sliding across your slit has you keening as oliver licks his lips in front of you. but he is a good dog, it seems, as disgusting as he is. he stays, and he watches yukki expertly put you on display. as if he’s showing off if you are worthy for oliver’s devouring.
"y-yukki—‘s too much, please, please—"
"shhhh. pets don’t speak, darling."
you moan, feeling your slick cover his fingers. you need one of them to do something. gone are your previous prudish thoughts, and you open your legs a little wider. oliver’s eyes go huge, his pupils almost swallowing his irises entirely as he stays.
hiori yo x reader | @darkwicks @chiffiorra you did this :(
“i thought you were a sadist.”
the words fall from your mouth as hiori turns to you from the couch with big, glassy eyes, his gaze burning into you like an owl. he’s shocked, hearing such words fall from your pretty lips, his jaw slack as the screen in front of him goes black, YOU DIED written across it in big, serif red letters.
“sorry?”
you repeat what you said, gesturing to the tv as you lean against the counter with your hip. you don’t miss how his eyes flicker down to your bare legs, the flannel he bought you the only clothing you’re wearing barring a pair of mesh black underwear that he knows is still there.
“isn’t elden ring for masochists?”
he blinks again, before descending into laughter, resting at the golden grace on the television as he cackles, leaning backwards.
“well, th’ way that i play, these bosses are afraid of me, y’know.”
you scoff. “i heard you curse out radahn, like, fifty times before you killed him a few days ago.”
hiori’s face goes red. “okay, well…now i can beat him in one shot, sooooooo…”
your feet patter against the floor as you slide onto the couch next to him, stretching your bare legs across his lap. he instinctively moves his arms to make room for you before placing them on top. one hand wraps around your calf, rubbing into the skin as you sip your tea.
“maybe you can take a break and torture me for awhile, since you enjoy it so much.”
there’s something hidden in his eyes, something that should scare you. it doesn’t. you hold his gaze evenly, taking another dramatic sip of tea.
“wouldn’t me disagreein’ with you be torture too, ya beauty?”
you laugh, reaching out to brush your hand through his hair. “touché.”
-> favorite little doll | 930 words. gn!reader, dollification (in a literal sense), yandere!shoko, shoko is her own warning in this, first person, mentions of gore and violence, coercion, unrequited love
author’s notes: so this is based on The Doll in the hunter’s dream and her relationship with Gehrman in bloodborne. if you don’t know the lore, Gehrman had this student named Lady Maria that he seemed to want a romantic relationship with and it ended up not working out due to a Lot of Circumstances. you can read about the lore yourself if you’re interested. take a guess as to what's going on here...hehe
You do not know how you came to be here.
You look at yourself in the mirror, and you feel nothing. You were not made to feel much of anything, Shoko tells you with disdain as she chops away at the meal she is making. For herself, of course—you do not eat. You do not need to. Your dress feels heavy on you as you adjust your straps, simply watching her arm muscles move underneath her skin.
You were not made to feel anything.
“Why not?” you ask, drumming your fingers on the table in front of you. Shoko pauses in her chopping, but you feel no fear. As she said, you were not made to feel anything—except for a mothering love for her. You cannot seem to hate her; you don’t know what that word even means. It was spoken to you from a group of hunters who have visited Shoko often. One has stark black hair, who refuses to look at you and seems uncomfortable being in the workshop at all. One has a brown bob, with an eyepatch over one eye, who regards you with contempt. But the final one, the boy with the pink hair, watches you often with a look that seems similar to what Shoko has described as horror.
“Do you hate her?”
“For what?”
“For doing this to you.”
You smiled at him then, gently holding his hand in your own. “No. I did not exist before Shoko.”
There’s another look that flashes across his face—it’s not horror, but rather fear. Fear, like an animal, like the animals Shoko has shown you pictures of that exist far away from where you live in the workshop now. Fear of what someone has done. He smiles, awkwardly, before removing his hand from your own, quickly leaving the workshop. The others watch him leave, flickering between you and the boy. One of them seems to understand; the boy with the black hair, who cannot make eye contact with you.
Shoko just smiles. There is no happiness in her face. “He’ll get used to it.”
It’s funny, that—because deep down, even though you are who you are, you know she is lying to you. You have seen the pictures in her bedroom, glanced at them as she has made her way with you; the ones of the two strapping men with her, smiling and laughing. A seemingly simpler time. They are all dressed in the typical hunter garb that you have seen over the decades, watching as your skin never ages, your eyes never dull. They were dull to begin with.
But you cannot shake the feeling that you look like them.
You must look like them, you reckon. The way you speak seems to make others stiffen, as if they have heard someone else speak with your voice. The way people look at you, with disdain or grief or sadness or pity, is never kind; they never ask more questions, they never question Shoko. They simply let it lie. As if it is easier doing that than enlightening you on who you really are, even though you already suspect.
Another difference, you realize, is that the men in the picture are men. And you are relatively certain that they bestowed…different hardware than you do.
What you have, she says to you, is perfection. The prettiest pussy she’s ever made, she says; something that Shoko worships constantly. Something that she always seems to devour, in a way that feels bigger than just you. You are serving a purpose, she explains to you after, running her fingers through your short, spiky white hair. “You are pleasing me just as you should be, darling,” she whispers into your ear, and you can only smile.
Yes, you were made for this—you were not made to feel anything bad, or horrible, anything similar to what it is to be human. You were only made to feel pleasure; to help Shoko, to ease her pain, to make her feel loved as she had in the past. You do not mind, as you do not know anything else other than her.
The group of three comes around to the workshop often. There is one time where you hear them yelling at Shoko as you are out in the garden, tending to the gravestones, the moon big and white in the sky, casting strange shadows across the field of flowers in front of you. You do not hear the words spoken, but you do hear a door slam. You gather your skirts in your dainty fingers, walking up the stairs, and are abruptly passed by the pink-haired boy.
He has tears in his eyes. You hesitate in reaching out to him; you have never hesitated to comfort Shoko, but this is a stranger to you. You do not know his name, but he seems to be in pain as Shoko does from time to time. You reach for him anyway, and he lets your hand rest on his face. For just a moment, the pain written in the scar arching across his face seems to lessen, but he blinks, and the moment is broken.
He storms off, followed closely by the eyepatch girl and the black-haired boy.
He still does not meet your eyes.
You return to the workshop, seeing Shoko smoking a cigarette against the kitchen sink. The lines on her face look deeper.
“Are you alright, mistress?” you whisper, closing the door softly behind you.
She looks at you like you are a ghost. “I will be,” is all she says.
Hi friend♡ if you’re accepting requests~ would you mind if I askeddd for more Hiragi? Anything, perhaps a little nsfw since I don’t see a lot of that (VERY sadly). Maybe reader gets a little too close to his neck and gets drawn into the smell of his cologne and…[redacted]
I love him so dearly and feel he needs more recognition </3
Thank you thank you thank you!!!~
-> the scent of a king | 1,193 words. gn!reader, penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, hiragi calls reader “baby, darlin’, good girl”.
author’s notes: i am obsessed with this GIF HAHA! love a man with a good cologne smell, goddamn. kind of inspired by my partner getting this specific old spice body wash and deodorant so it was over for me before it even started...god, i can't imagine how good hiragi smells. he's definitely that guy who picks out scents he knows you like the most. thanks for stopping by! <3
Sniff. Sniff.
You turn your nose up into the air, eyes sliding shut at the scent that’s perforating your senses. It’s warm and musky, and makes your thighs press together as you stifle a moan. You’d always been into people who smell good, but Hiragi was a totally different story.
That man had one of the best colognes you’d ever smelled.
It was nothing special, either; you knew it was one of the cheap bottles from the corner store, something that wouldn’t break the bank but would still make him feel good about himself. He never put too much on, either; it was always just a whisper of musk and pine, but it was enough for you to pick up on it every time.
There’s a movement next to you on the couch, and your eyes snap open, yelping and jumping slightly away as Hiragi sits down next to you, a grin tugging at his lips. His hair is wet, which means he just got out of the shower; so not only is his cologne apparent in the air, but his body wash is as well. It’s a delicious mix of scents that has you needing to catch your breath.
“Do I smell good or somethin’?” he teases, and you can feel the red blush creeping up your face. “N-No!” you stammer out, tugging at the edges of your skirt and looking pointedly away from him, “no, I just…smelled something nice. That’s all.”
You expect him to drop it. He normally does.
This time, however, the atmosphere has changed.
His hand moves to your thigh, and his breath fans against your ear. His scent is even stronger this close, and you can’t help but let a whimper escape you as he murmurs against you.
“You seem bothered by it. Need me to help ya, darlin’?”
As he whispers into your ear, you feel his hand moving up. Despite your feeble efforts to stop its trail, his fingers dip under the flesh of your skirt. His chest rumbles against your shoulder as his fingers reach your panties, feeling the wetness already forming. “My, my, wet already? All I gotta do is smell good? You’re so low-maintenance.” There’s a sweet teasing lilt to his voice that only makes you want him more, and you can’t answer with words, only a moan and a shudder.
His other hand reaches around you and pulls you into his lap, his fingers tearing your underwear to the side so easily that they may as well have never been there at all. He’s slow, drifting through your folds, spreading your essence across your lips and up to your nub, which forces you to jolt against his hand.
You bury your face in his neck. The scent is overpowering, taking over your senses. You can feel your sanity slipping away, melting in his grip like an ice cream cone in the middle of summer. All you can do is moan pitifully and drink him in, his big hand spread against your back and his other hand busy beneath you.
“That’s it, baby,” you hear him whisper as his fingers circle your center, your tight hole spasming against him, “let me in. I know you want to.”
You do. You always do, muffling a cry as his fingers slide inside, so easily that you hear a groan rumble in his chest. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he gets out, and you can feel the hard-on in his pants growing against you, poking your thigh. You unconsciously grind down against him, drunk on his scent. It’s making you feel things, making you want him and everything that comes with it. You need him bad, so badly that your hips desperately rock against his fingers. He doesn’t even need to move them; you’re doing all the work.
You look down at him, and he looks up at you. The moment your gazes meet, the string inside you snaps. You didn’t even realize you were so close until you feel your walls spasming, Hiragi’s hand moving to rest behind your neck, fingers wrapping around the back of your throat, keeping you somewhat still over his clothed cock.
“Such a good girl f’me,” he says, his voice tight from arousal, the rasp raking across your eardrums, “such a good, good girl. You’re so fucking sexy, God.”
You don’t want it to stop. You can’t have it stop, you’d rather have him inside of you all day, cock-warming him as you drink him in, only having to think about him and only him.
He maneuvers you so easily onto the couch, his pants dropping and his heavy cock slapping against his stomach. He bends over you, sliding in so easily, not letting you have a come-down whatsoever as he slams into you. “Fuck, sorry, baby,” he says, not sorry at all, “had to get in there. Had to feel how wet you are f’me.”
You’re reduced to babbles and moans as his hips slam into you, his chest pressed against your own as you push your face into his neck again. His scent, his scent, it permeates your brain once again, slamming against you with every thrust, and you wail, feeling yourself cum again around him. Smells s’good, you drunkenly think to yourself, s’good…would do anything for this…
Your nails dig into his back; there will be marks there tomorrow, marks that the boys might tease him about. But you know he won’t care — he’ll be busy thinking about how cock-drunk you probably look underneath him, eyes wet and misty-eyed, lips open to allow the full extent of your noises to fill the room around the both of you.
His scent gets stronger with every moment; the smell of tangy sweat joins the fray, and you can feel him twitching inside of you. His breath, labored, brushes against your ear as his hips begin to stutter. So, you take this moment to claim a deep breath, before whispering in his ear.
“Cum for me, Hiragi.”
He does, with a groan, and you can feel the ropes of cum filling you up, your belly swelling from the amount. It feels delicious, the smells all intertwining together to cause yet another orgasm to slam into you as well, your walls squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth as you cry out.
His voice is shaky as he breathes into your ear. “Fuck, yes, fuck, cum with me, baby,” he manages to get out as his hips fuck you both through your orgasms together. It’s like he’ll never stop. You don’t want him to. Why would you?
However, he does, eventually getting so tired that he collapses on top of you, his arms no longer capable of holding himself up. He’s spent as he presses lazy kisses to your collarbone, and you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow. A hand reaches into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and a pleasant hum rumbles in his chest.
“So all I gotta do is smell good to get ya goin’? Do I need to take ya cologne shoppin’ with me?” he teases?
this has made me think ………. if you could choose another bllk character to have a threesome with you and yukki who are you picking and why? :3
OHHHHH MY GOD OKAY...
kunigami. that man is a freaky ass bitch and that predator/prey dynamic i feel would be CRAZY. plus i feel like kunigami is a total power bottom and yukki would have a blast trying to tame him :3
hiori. that guy is just weird. that's all. and i imagine he'd be insane with toys so he feels like a great addition to the dynamic.
i feel like saying oliver is such a cop-out because he's like the only canonically bisexual guy i am aware of, but...yeah. he'd be so insane. god. like also a power bottom but in a different way to kunigami. yukki would be breaking kunigami down, but oliver's almost taunting yukki to do his worst. probably says he's a good boy and everything. i'm sick.
linkies go out to little drabbles i've written for them <333
mornings with tsugeura are so unlike every other time with him.
he's constantly moving, usually—never failing to get to the gym at least once a day, feeling pent-up and anxious if he isn't able to work out in some way. he's incapable of sitting still. his knee wobbles when you guys go on dates in coffee shops, sometimes rattling the table, met with a sheepish "sorry".
you love that about him.
but you also love this tsugeura, too.
the one that noses at your collarbone early in the morning, rasping into your ear that you look so beautiful in the sun, oddly poetic for someone such as him.
the one whose hands roam across your skin, saying how soft you are, how pliant you are underneath him as he shifts and moves on top of you. your eyes blearily blink open to meet his own just as his hand meets your center, a gentle, sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he feels how wet you are already.
still bothered fr'm las' night, baby? is his comment, and you can't help but shudder against him at the recall.
the bed creaking in disdain as he picks up your leg, spreading you gently as he swirls his fingers across your clit, pressing soft kisses against your skin as you lay there mewling for him. not even fully awake yet, enjoying the steady flow of serotonin he knows so well to generate from you as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening, warming by the moment.
and you sigh as you feel him slide into you, every centimeter of his length smoothly opening you up as if you're a flower, ready to bloom just for him. as he nestles in, he groans into your collarbone. you feel so fuckin' good. nice 'n slow, yeah, baby?
you nod, a sleepy smile finally gracing your face.
you love these moments, you think, as you feel him rock against you, his hands holding you so securely that all you have to do is lay there and let him make you feel good. just like you know how he knows how to do.
