bluberrimuffintop

Latest Posts by bluberrimuffintop

@nkogneatho MY GOD HE'S SO ICKY...*reblogs*

Warnings: NSFW🔞, somnophilia, cum eating, non con, age gap (Toji is mid 40s reader is early 20s) just a drabble

Toji’s large figure looms in the doorway of his son’s room, his eyes are locked onto you, Megumi’s best friend, as you sleep peacefully on the floor.

Minutes pass and in the eyes of anyone on the outside looking in, Toji’s shadow would look terrifying in the doorway considering how large he is. Staring blankly at the sweet, kind, naive sleeping college girl who’s supposed to be under his protection and care certainly doesn’t help his case.

Before he knows it, he’s taking steps over Megumi’s video games sprawled out that you guys were playing previously and ending up right beside your makeshift bed on the floor. He’s so close that his toes make contact with the blanket you have messily thrown over you.

Toji hadn’t gotten off with another human present since Megumi was born, always busy with work. When he wasn’t at work, his priorities would lie in popping open a beer and relaxing by the tv until he’d fall asleep snoring at eight pm sharp like his old man used to.

Pent up Toji just can’t resist, he kneels beside you and his cock jumps right to life as he gently peels your blanket down just below your crotch.

He lets out a breathy ‘phew’ in more of a breath than the actual word, your naivety and trust is abundantly obvious. He’s more so in disbelief at your lack of defensive awareness than he is reacting to how pleasing the sight is.

You’re wearing the smallest shorts he’s ever seen that clearly outline your pussy and your thigh indents that connect your pussy to your legs. Your little black panties are poking out. Your large shirt is Megumi’s and it’s much too large to stay on your body properly through the night, it’s already ridden up just below your breasts, showing off your entire tummy as it rises and falls gently.

“God, you stupid girl,” he sighs almost pitifully with a judgmental look. His natural expression is pretty judgmental but this look is a bit more than that.

You’re a young college girl. Toji thought women of this generation were more aware of their bodies and the way men could be—more so than in his time, when women would walk home alone with their defenses down without a care in the world. But here you are, blissfully ignorant and trusting as you sleep under an older man’s roof.

You’re a sweet girl, you use manners more than any kid he’s ever witnessed and you always offer to help around the house when Megumi has too many snot nosed kids over who make a mess wherever they go. You’ve been coming around for years, having been friends with Megumi for so long and apparently apt to stay anywhere but your own house. You’re one of the only kids Megumi has over that he doesn’t mind having in his house, eating his money for every breakfast and dinner.

But maybe you shouldn’t have felt so safe in his home because Toji looks down at you with his tongue tracing his bottom lip in concentration as he straddles your shoulders and pulls his cock out of his sweatpants.

Megumi’s always been a deep sleeper and you’re even worse but Toji still tries to keep the volume to a minimum as he adjusts his position as to get comfortable with his veiny cock bobbing above your face. He mutters ‘here we go’ as he gets into position, as if straddling a horse.

You’re a drooler, lips parted slightly with spit running down your cheek as you dream. Toji lets out a throaty breath as he collects the drool with his tip to smear across your lips. You don’t even stir.

The feeling of your soft lips against his sensitive head is enough for Toji to grow impatient. He braces his hands onto the floor and hovers over your face as if he’s in missionary position and your mouth is exactly where a pussy should be.

One last look up at his son and his surroundings to make sure everything is still asleep, unaware, and quiet is enough for him to throw any remaining caution to the wind.

One by one, he drops his arms down to rest on his forearms as to be more comfortable before moving his gaze down to watch as his hips rise and his tip bobs softly before settling right on your bottom lip.

Toji makes a move to push inside of you but misses and instead smears the side of his cock against your cheek. You’re blissfully asleep, not even reacting to the touch and that’s enough for Toji to feel like you were made for this.

He bites his lower lip in concentration as he lifts his hips once again and aims. Your soft breath tickles his dripping slit.

“C’mon now,” Toji mutters to himself, “right there.”

This time when Toji thrusts with a low and steady hum, his soft tip enters, pushing open and past your teeth and lips and into the wet, heated inside of your mouth. “Good, open. open,” he grunts on the way in.

But nothing could have prepared Toji for the suction your mouth immediately begins to inflict on him. He’s only got the head inside and it’s like a suction cup the way your instinct is to suck it in and suckle on it like it’s a nipple.

“Fuck,” toji grits out in surprise, hands making tight fists as the sound of wet suckling plays from your lips, “fuckin hurts, Jesus Christ.”

He isn’t even moving but you’re just sucking on his tip like a popsicle that’ll squirt gooey yumminess if you suck hard enough.

Seasoned, old man Toji can’t even handle the feeling, it’s too harsh, despite being extremely pleasurable at the same time. He tries to grit his teeth and endure it but he finds himself instinctively lifting his hips in attempt to pull out.

He curses harshly when you and your mouth just come with him. Your head lifts with his cock like you’re stuck to it, all the while you continue to suckle on it over and over.

“Goddamnit, looks like I caught a fucking— shit!— a fish,” Toji groans, barely able to make his stupid joke because of the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

He moves his hips back and forth the smallest bit as to get you off, abs turning in as his back curves. He watches as you simply groan in your sleep at the movement and continue on. Toji hisses at the aggressive pull of it all and finally gives up, sighing and pushing back down as to let your head rest on the pillow once again.

His eyes clench down and his toes curl as he simply allows you to vacuum him in over and over, focusing on the way your tongue constricts and moves against the underside of his head as your mouth goes through the motions of suckling.

He has no choice, Toji simply says fuck it and his toes curl as he pushes in deeper, feeding inches of his cock into your tight wet suctioned hole. “Take some more then, fuckin suck on more,” he hisses out, one of his fists lifting and hitting against the floor once in attempt to cope.

Toji’s in disbelief as you take half of him inside, his tip now making contact with the back of your throat, and yet you still continue to suckle. He can hear the difficulty of breathing in your breath and the way your throat struggles to open wider as to breathe with the new inches but you still don’t seem to wake up or stir.

Cumming within minutes has never been a problem for Toji, maybe when he was younger but even then, he’s always had stamina. But something about using you as you sleep and the hard suckling your body is instinctively doing the minute something enters your mouth is all too much. He can feel an orgasm coming as his balls rise.

Maybe it’s a pride thing and he doesn’t want to cum without even moving inside of you, maybe he’s just horny but the next thing he knows, he’s thrusting into your mouth in small doses with a deep ‘ah’ with every rut. He’s basically just nudging your throat and increasing the amount of suction because your lips just won’t let up. Your head rises off of the floor with his dick, refusing to let go everytime he pulls back too much. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing to fuck your face as much as your suckling mouth will allow.

“God, you want it so fucking— ngh— bad. Gonna feed you all my milk, don’t worry,” he groans out, almost in frustration. His dick is growing sore from your abuse but it feels just as good. “Be fucking patient.”

Although Toji’s mind is hazy, he can still acknowledge that he can’t just cum in your mouth and potentially choke you to death. He should pull out, cum on his own hand like the pathetic man he is and leave you to sleep for the rest of the night, having caused enough harm already— but he just can’t.

Your suckling is almost mean, and he isn’t even sure if you’ll let him go if he tries to pull out. So with one hard thrust, Toji apologizes to you in a deep grunt, and he mounts your face until his balls are on your chin and you’re gurgling. His entire cock is in your throat, slid all the way down and he can feel it begin to convulse, fighting desperately to breathe.

“Cumming. cumming, sorry, kid.” Toji groans as he begins to fuck your constricting throat, again not pulling out really at all, but simply pushing deeper over and over again until cum finally spurts out and enters your esophagus without even touching your throat or mouth.

“Here you go,” Toji sighs, all of his weight on your face as cum continues to expend out of his tip intermittently. He’s aware he’s suffocating you and your body is twitching behind him, but he thinks you can handle a few minutes while he inserts his sperm into your body.

Finally, Toji’s orgasm wanes and he lets out a deep breath, the type of sigh an old man makes as he stands and his knees crack and back pulls. He gently pulls out of your throat and thankfully, you don’t latch on again. “Good girl, no more sucky.” He almost chuckles at the sight of your body immediately gasping for air instead of suckling him back in.

He’s quick to get off of your face and tuck himself back in, licking his lips as he does so in a slight rush.

Then he’s kneeling beside you once again as he grabs your chin and moves your face side to side to make sure you’re breathing and okay before rubbing the top of your head briefly. “Thanks, kid. Mouth feels real nice.”

He’s about to stand and leave but with a cocked brow, he curiously uses one finger to push the very tip into your mouth and jumps in surprise when you latch onto it and suckle.

“Jesus,” he breathes, still a bit shocked by the scare, “you didn’t get enough time with mommy, huh?”

Toji cackles at his own joke and eyes you in a mix of awe and curiosity as you suckle on it.

Just like with his cock, it’s painful how hard you suck, he can feel the blood pushing to the tip of his finger.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Toji grunts, pulling his finger out with a wince. He rubs his finger as you whine in your sleep, likely subconsciously growing irritated at the amount of stimulation being inflicted on you.

Toji takes that as his cue and leaves, closing the door softly as if he wasn’t just balls deep inside of your throat.

The next morning, Toji’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee, watching the news on the tv in the living room from there. You and Megumi groggily eat the breakfast Toji made for you at the island.

You cough and choke a bit on your pancakes and quickly drink some of your orange juice before taking a deep breath and running a hand through your hair. Toji doesn’t bat an eye, much too tired and an old grumpy man to think much on it this early in the morning.

“You okay?” Megumi questions you tiredly before taking a bite out of his bacon.

You nod and hum, coughing a bit when using your vocal cords.

“My throat’s kinda sore,” you shrug, a hand massaging your throat lightly.

Toji’s eyes flick at you briefly and quickly before returning to the tv.

“Do you feel sick?” Megumi asks, more of his attention on you now that you’ve expressed discomfort.

“Eh,” you say casually, “not really.”

Megumi hums and lets it go without much more he can add to the conversation.

“It really bothering you?” Toji asks you in his naturally laid back manner, tone harsh like always.

“Oh, no,” you immediately take on a polite tone when addressing your best friends father, “don’t worry about it. I’m fine, im sure it’ll pass.”

Toji grunts in affirmation before turning and grabbing something from a cabinet.

He approaches the opposite end of the island where you and Megumi are sat and offers you a lollipop.

“‘S not medicine but might help,” Toji shrugs and takes a sip of his black coffee.

Your eyes flick up to him quickly before you accept the lollipop with a kind smile. “Thanks, Mr. Fushiguro.”

He huffs silently to himself at the title you’ve given him as he moves back to his position leaning against the kitchen counter with his coffee.

Toji goes back to watching the news but his focus is all on his peripherals where you’re unwrapping the paper and happily latching onto the poor lollipop. The minute it’s sucked into your mouth, his cock aches in remembrance of the pain but twitches in pleasure and grows a few inches at the same time.

You’re a good kid and he knows that, but now Toji’s gonna use you as his own personal face fucking glory hole until he can’t anymore.

—-

Was just thinking about how Toji seems like his first choice is always a blowjob

Platonic....pussy eating....Yeah I buy that but still goddamn-

🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

girl this better work

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

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You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited; having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

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A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

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Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling near by before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Thought outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

nsfw:

dads friend simon is a concept i think about very often.

simon is around your house very often, always there for barbecues, birthdays, some hollidays and random weekends.

he seems cold and reserved when the two of you are in front of everyone. but once the night has set, he come out of the guest bedroom and sneeks into yours.

his big bulky hands slidding your sheets down, revealing your asleep body wearing one of his shirts.

simon softly kisses your cheek as he climbs into your bed, opening your legs and lifting up your shirt slowly. you wake up with the feeling of his bulge rubbing against you and his kisses on your neck.

"we have to be quiet, dont want your dad hearing us, lovie. poor man doesnt know his baby loves to get fucked by me."

but if he's honest, he doesnt care if your dad finds out. as long as he can keep cumming inside his pretty lovie, he is happy.

shhh let my husband sleep he's tired <3

When you tell Nanami on the second to last day that you're staying with your grandparents overseas for the summer, he doesn't have much of a reaction. You thought the two of you had bonded quite a bit since Haibara introduced you at the beginning of the term. Nanami was always quieter, more reserved compared to his best friend, but you gradually began to pick up on his little mannerisms and subtle cues. The way he slows his pace to match yours while you eat lunch, even though Haibara always inhales his food at warp speed. Whenever you walk beside each other, whether in the hallway or on the way home, Nanami switches which arm he holds his bag so that it doesn't hit you. Your favorite is when he shares his headphones with you to listen to a song he thinks you'd like, and you always do. But maybe that's because you get to listen to it with him.

When he doesn't say much about your plans for the summer, you can't help but feel disappointed. You thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd miss you just as much as you'd miss him. It's always been wishful thinking, though. This is what you get for having a silly little unrequited crush.

The last day ends as usual, with the three of you walking home together. Haibara always leaves first as he lives the closest to the campus. He says his cheerful goodbyes and promises to keep in touch the next few weeks, leaving you and Nanami alone. You've grown used to the comfortable silence that sometimes surrounds you two. That's just one of the many things you like about him; you never feel like you need to fill the space with useless chatter. The two of you can just be happy together, like this. This is good enough for you.

You arrive to your house, ready to say farewell. "I hope you have a good summer, Nanami," you smile at him. "I'll see you in the fall."

He stands awkwardly, avoiding your gaze, fidgeting in his bag for something. When he retrieves it, he hands it over, still not looking at you. "I made this. For you."

Your heart starts to race in your chest as you reach for it, grazing his fingers. It's a CD case with a list of songs displayed on the cover. You recognize all of them, the same ones he played for you, listened with you. You hold it in your hands like a precious treasure. "For me?"

"Yeah. Something that reminds you of me. Of us." His cheeks are flushed, clearly embarrassed. But he lifts his head to meet your gaze, smiling softly at you. "Just in case you miss me just as much as I'll miss you."

kento's a real man.

a man who uses your purse with no shame, even if everyone stares at him.

a man who does not feel ashamed in doing 'feminine' activities, in his eyes, it's just an activity. since when is cooking or knitting shameful?

a man who doesn't have the need to control your every move. he doesn't always need to be in a position of power over you.

a man who flaunts your achievements, even if they're greater than his. in fact, he could never be prouder.

a man who understands the decision of the amount of children to have entirely is up to you.

a man who isn't scared to buy feminine products and in fact volunteers to buy them when you are in need.

a man who understands that housework is a shared activity and that being a housewife is a real job.

a man who understands the sacrifice of becoming a full-time mom and makes sure you know you're appreciated in every single moment.

note: beabadoobee reference, got an idea while listening to her song

Jealous!Ghost does something to me… sorry

He was everywhere, balls slapping heavily against the fat of your ass, your spine nestled into the wall as he fucked into you, cock splitting you open with the desirous intention to ruin you for anyone else.

“You gonna fucking talk to him again, hm?” He spat, licking a stripe of your neck as he held onto your hips, bruising fingers digging litters of marks against your pretty skin.

“N-No Simon,” you whined, hiccuping as he thrusted back into you, his voice menacingly low as he growled low in his chest. Your neck was stained with dark hickies, marks that Ghost needed everyone to see, especially the incapable Soldier who decided that sparring with you was appropriate.

“Fucking slut, ain’t you? My dicks not enough for ye’ or something? Gotta get it from everyone?”

His words shot through you as you choked out a moan, angry tip nudging your sweet spots with a fiery force, heat penetrating through you. His eyes were shot into slits, a possessive glint controlling every movement as he muttered into your neck.

“I see you around him again and I’ll kill ‘em, you hear me?”

You nodded against the wall, lower back aching at the constant pressure of being slammed against it during his fuelled assault against your squelching cunt.

Ghost didn’t say anything after he emptied inside you, guttural groan leaving his lips as he pulled out, dropping you to your feet and leaving in an aggravated hunch, your legs shaking as you tried to squeak out a ‘wait’.

Your Tumblr username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?

˚｡୨♡୧ ˚｡ 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝒀 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑻𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑻𝒀 𝑩𝑼𝑻...

@osamwah is caring like an angel

@xoxokirby is as sweet as cotton candy

@yuujispinkhair reminds me of swans in love

@desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi is that friend who cheers you on no matter how shitty life is

@mikage-rehoe is so cat coded i love it

@kitashousewife brings me peace like the greenest field

@saenora is an art made by god that he cherishes

@qichun reminds me of berries. epecially blueberries they are my favorite.

@tetzoro reminds me of the Valentine's because everytime i look at her, she is always filled with so much love and joy

@cosmicstarlatte is my favorite grape soda because she's sweet and tangy all at once

@sugumimi is as pretty as those white ribbons i always tie my hair with

@dabisqueen reminds me of thunderbolt. she is strong and so bright. she brings me strength.

@zorosdimples is a clover because i feel like everyone gets lucky when she appears on dash

@canwenotdothis is my favorite banana and avocado sock that i show off to everyone

@driaswrld is my favorite song who's melody makes me hop and dance

@devoti is my favorite orange cat because she is so unpredictable and unhinged but a sweet little thing

@papersirens is the comic book on my shelf that i rarely read but always admire the art of

@sachiyoh is my favorite milktea boba

@gojoest reminds me of the cerulean blue of gojo's eyes

@rizzmin is the blood you i suck off my loved ones when they're hurt

@snowberi is the prettiest sunset ever

@fuyuaika reminds me so much of pretty tulips i see down the flowershop

@kentoangel reminds of the cute clouds in a clear sky

@strawberrystepmom is fall season and everything autumn related.

@doobea is my favorite plushie

@half-baked-biscuit is my favorite holiday festival

@linpunny is a sweet and sour neon pink candy floss

@margumis is my favorite sentence that i draw hearts around in my book

@yuta-nation is as comforting as my winter sweater

@princess-okkotsu reminds me of saturn

@dreadsuitsamus is my favorite laugh and joy

@vagabond-umlaut is the castle built on a foundation of belongingness

@renhoeku is as strong and pretty as the ring around jupiter

@elusivemoon is blue hour on a chilly night

@bluberrimuffintop is rose quartz crystal

@ringasm reminds me of the constellations in a night sky

@sleepy3 reminds be of the color lilac

@moshimochis is a vanilla icecream that brings me comfort after a hectic day

@shoyostar is a planet that rains diamonds

@oreo-creampie is my favorite dark academia aesthetic

@gojo-mochi is my favorite sweet shop to visit

@nyimasu is a cherry wine giving me company on a lonely night

@moonlit-mizukage reminds me of rain

@vampgloss is the prettiest butterfly i have ever seen

@deskaisers reminds me of stargazing

@eros-lives is the night club i love going to

@benkeibear is my favorite cute lil hamster

@unknownspecies is a tiger shark

You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

.

Madame Kaji: Pleasure and desire isn't to be shamed, what do you desire most?

Mizu: I want to get my hands on Abijah Fowler.

Madame Kaji: wtf you creep get the fuck out now

does anwone want to kiss me forhead

t-the vest, t-t-the tousled hair hfhdbffncnfjfjfhffffhhnnnnffffffhhfhnnffhfnnfffh my mouf on da floor like hxxncncbxshdjffhnfffhffnf

oh my god.

“oh i’m a feminist. i wanna put a woman on top. and on the back, on her knees”

Monster fucker this, monster fucker that. What if I want a monster RELATIONSHIP huh?! Monster HAND HOLDING, monster INTIMATE CONVERSATIONS, monster COMFORTABLE SILENCE??

YES PLEASESESSE

jjk dick study tonight. interact for tag

✨🩷🌙SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING ✨🩷🌙

Hi Pasi sweetie 😻‼️ How's your weekend?

Don't mind if i dooo ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄*₎◞ ̑̑

"homosexuality is unnatural! there's only two genders! it's a sin-"

I'm sorry, have you seen NATURE???

and there's so many more species than this that exhibit homosexuality, varying genders, etc. SO! MANY!

it's very much a natural thing. it always has been. unfortunately, while homosexuality is found in many species, homophobia is only found in one

Religion Dispatches

Contrary to Claims of Anti-Trans Muslims, LGBTQ+ Acceptance is Widespread in the History of Islam

In recent weeks, school boards across the country have become sites of conflict as organized anti-trans and anti-gay protests allied with ca

Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani’s Kitab al-Aghani records the lives of a number of individuals including one named Tuways who lived during the last years of Muhammad and the reigns of the early Muslim dynasties. Tuways was mukhannathun: those who were born as men, but who presented as female. They are described by al-Isfahani as wearing bangles, decorating their hands with henna, and wearing feminine clothing. One mukhannathun, Hit, was even in the household of the Prophet Muhammad. Tuways earned a reputation as a musician, performing for clients and even for Muslim rulers. When Yahya ibn al-Hakam was appointed as governor, Tuways joined in the celebration wearing ostentatious garb and cosmetics. When asked by the governor if he were Muslim Tuways affirmed his belief, proclaiming the declaration of faith and saying that he observes the fast of Ramadan and the five daily prayers. In other words, al-Isfahani, who recorded the life of a number of mukhannathun like Tuways, saw no contradiction between his gender expression and his Muslimness. From al-Isfahani we read of al-Dalal, ibn Surayj, and al-Gharid—all mukhannathun—who lived rich lives in early Muslim societies. Notably absent from al-Isfahani’s records is any state-sanctioned persecution. Instead, the mukhannathun are an accepted part of society.

...

Far from isolated cases, across Islamic history—from North Africa to South Asia—we see widespread acceptance of gender nonconforming and queer individuals. - Later in the Ottoman Empire, there were the köçek who were men who wore women’s clothing and performed at festivals. Formally trained in dance and percussion instruments, the köçek were an important part of social functions. A similar practice was found in Egypt. The khawal were male dancers who presented as female, wearing dresses, make up, and henna. Like their Ottoman counterparts, they performed at social events.

- In South Asia, the hijra were and are third-sex individuals. The term is used for intersex people as well as transgender women. Hijra are attested to among the earliest Muslim societies of South Asia where, according to Nalini Iyer, they were often guardians of the household and even held office as advisors.

- In Iraq, the mustarjil are born female, but present as men. In Wilfred Thesiger’s The Marsh Arabs the guide, Amara explains, “A mustarjil is born a woman. She cannot help that; but she has the heart of a man, so she lives like a man.” When asked if the mustarjil are accepted, Amara replies “Certainly. We eat with her and she may sit in the mudhif.” Amara goes on to describe how mustarjil have sex with women.

...

Historian Indira Gesink analyzed 41 medical and juristic sources between the 8th and 18th centuries and discovered that the discourse of a “binary sex” was an anachronistic projection backwards. Gesink points out in one of the earliest lexicography by the 8th century al-Khalil ibn Ahmad that he suggests addressing a male-presenting intersex person as ya khunathu and a female-presenting intersex person as ya khanathi while addressing an effeminate man as ya khunathatu. This suggests a clear recognition of a spectrum of sex and gender expression and a desire to address someone respectfully based on how they presented.

Tolerance of gender ambiguity and non-conformity in Islamic cultures went hand-in-hand with broader acceptance of homoeroticism. Texts like Ali ibn Nasir al-Katib’s Jawami al-Ladhdha, Abu al-Faraj al-Isfahani’s Kitab al-Aghani, and the Tunisian, Ahmad al-Tifashi’s Nuz’ha al-‘Albab attest to the widespread acceptance of same-sex desire as natural. Homoeroticism is a common element in much of Persian and Arabic poetry where youthful males are often the object of desire. From Abu Nuwas to Rumi, from ibn Ammar to Amir Khusraw, some of the Islamic world’s greatest poets were composing verses for their male lovers. Queer love was openly vaunted by poets. One, Ibn Nasr, immortalizes the love between two Arab lesbians Hind al Nu’man and al-Zarqa by writing:

“Oh Hind, you are truer to your word than men. Oh, the differences between your loyalty and theirs.”

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Acceptance of same-sex desire and gender non-conformity was the hallmark of Islamic societies to such a degree that European travelers consistently remarked derisively on it. In the 19th century, Edward Lane wrote of the khawal: “They are Muslims and natives of Egypt. As they personate women, their dances are exactly of the same description as those of the ghawazee; and are, in like manner, accompanied by the sound of castanets.”

A similarly scandalized CS Sonnini writes of Muslim homoerotic culture:

“The inconceivable appetite which dishonored the Greeks and the Persians of antiquity, constitute the delight, or to use a juster term, the infamy of the Egyptians. It is not for women that their ditties are composed: it is not on them that tender caresses are lavished; far different objects inflame them.”

In his travels in the 19th century, James Silk Buckingham encounters an Afghan dervish shedding tears for parting with his male lover. The dervish, Ismael, is astonished to find how rare same-sex love was in Europe. Buckingham reports the deep love between Ismael and his lover quoting, “though they were still two bodies, they became one soul.”

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Today, vocal Muslim critics of LGBTQ+ rights often accuse gay and queer people of imposing a “Western” concept or forcing Islam to adjust to “Western values” failing to grasp the irony of the claim: the shift in the 19th and 20th century was precisely an alignment with colonial values over older Islamic ones, all of which led to legal criminalization. In fact, the common feature among nations with anti-LGBTQ+ legislation isn’t Islam, but rather colonial law.

Don't talk to me I'm weeping. I'm not Muslim, but the grief of colonization runs in the blood of every Global South person. Dicovering these is like finding our lost treasures among plundered ruins.

Queer folk have always, always been here; we have always been inextricable, shining golden threads in the tapestry of human history. To erase and condemn us is to continue using the scalpel of colonizers in the mutilation and betrayal of our own heritage.

i am about to puke.

the thing about when zionists ask you if "israel has a right to defend itself" is it's no different from someone asking "did you stop beating your wife yet" or the schoolyard bully asking "does your mom know you're gay". to answer yes OR no is to accept a false premise. asking if israel has the right to self defense is like asking if it has the right to time travel or the right to breed unicorns. in all three cases you're being asked about something that doesn't exist

if i break into your house and say it's mine now, and beat you up and lock you in a closet, do i have the right to "defend myself" against you fighting back? the answer is that nothing i do constitutes self-defense by definition. israel is the attacker, it is the invader, it is on the offensive, and anything it does to the palestinian people is part of that offensive. invaders always try to cry self-defense against the resistance to the invasion, but the only party in this situation whose actions can possibly be self-defense is palestine

sneak peek of my personal revision poster !!! I'm memorizing the Silicate subclasses!!!

Sidenote: Did yall know that Emeralds and Aquamarines are basically variations of Beryl?

(sawry im a nerd)

Another König meme I'M SORRY

the islamophobia in my own country is shocking to me. instead of showing support to the country facing genocide, they are siding with a country who masks ethnic cleansing as "self-defense" just to be on their good side and any muslim or non-muslim that is supporting palestine online is getting death threats in their inbox and comments. i myself got told that i should leave my own fucking country by my own fucking people because i support palestine. my heart aches witnessing this and i just can't imagine how palestinians must be feeling. i will pray for the people there and i am sending all my love and support out.

i am not kissing you. I AM EATING YOUR ENTIRE FACE DHSHKAKA YOU PRETTY PRETTY BABY

STOOOPPP SSTOOPP STRTTOTPPPPPP YOU'RE MAKIN ME SHY AN SHIII 😓😓😓😨😨 SSTAWWPPPWPW SSATWWWP

get in line for free kisses :3 i have black honey lip gloss on

If oscar hit me with this open-mouthed goldfish kiss, I'd be bricked in two seconds.