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First drawing back and its nikto

this is real i saw it happen

i want to suck niktos big fat tits until he lactates end tweet

tag your traumatized man comfort character

simon riley with a gf who’s a preschool teacher.

simon riley who loves seeing all the little outfits his girlfriend dresses up in. whether it’s a pair of jeans and a jumper, one of those cute sun dresses or even those stupid pair of dinosaur overalls that her students love so much.

simon riley who loves to watch his girlfriend get ready for work. watching her do her makeup, put her hair up and even helping her pick what to wear.

simon riley who loves the art work his girlfriend brings home from her students. who loves them more than she does sometimes. who melts every time one of the write ‘mr. simon’ above a small stick figure next to another one that has his girlfriend’s name above it.

simon riley who gets videos from his girlfriend while deployed. most of the videos being her saying she loves him but some of them include the preschoolers telling him to be safe.

simon riley who retires from an injury. who can’t stay still so he ends up in his girlfriends classroom for the first time. who ends up sitting with the kids, reading them a book about a military dog.

simon riley who by the end of the week has been to the class everyday. even bringing Riley in for the kids to meet.

simon riley who by the end of the week decides he wants kids.

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝟔

You're not sure whether asking Nikto how he worked out what your favourite foods are is a good idea. Realistically, you know that men in his field are required to be perceptive, to pick out the smallest of details which may be useful later. He's been in your house so many times, in your fridge for a left over slice of pie, or the less that you can barely consider a garage to grab whatever tool he'd needed to fix your wobbly fencepost. On the one hand, his awareness of you, what you like and dislike, is comforting. It feels safe to have someone so constantly tuned in on your frequency. Safe. On the other? Having someone so impossibly attentive to your needs is unsettling. It's been far too long since you've had someone shadowing your day-to-day life - and Nikto is, undeniably, like a shadow.

The picnic is - it's really sweet. Well intentioned. The execution, admittedly is rudimentary, but you're just splitting hairs. A guy set you up a picnic after you practically sucked off his face in your kitchen. You're pretty sure most would've run had they felt the sheer reverence, the need in your kiss. He fixed your fence.

Now you're sat rather awkwardly beside one another, picking at a strange assortment of cheeses and fruits, making stilted conversation as you watch a herd of cows graze a couple of fields down.

"How did you know my fence was broken?" You hum in an absent, obvious attempt to keep the conversation going. Tough considering you barely know anything about Nikto, and yet he seems to know everything about you. Your weak endeavour towards filling the stillness between the two of you obviously doesn't go unnoticed - nor does the way your make an effort to dig deeper and see just how much of you Nikto actually catches.

"You hit it with your car a few weeks ago." He states bluntly, leaving you flushing a beet red. Foolishly, you'd always believed that your sub-par driving skills were just imagined, that no one saw you the way you saw yourself. Clearly, you've been wrong all along.

"You do have your drivers license, yes?" Nikto continues to chide, unable to help the way his blood rushes south when you blush, fluttering your lashes as you avert your gaze to the strawberry you'd been just about to eat. "Mhm." You mumble, trying to feign an indignant look - futile, seeing as he's already caught you in the act of your embarrassment.

"I can help you if you would like." Nikto utters, before he too turns his burning face towards the gingham blanket he'd found whilst trawling the grocery store in the small hours of this morning, trying to be as prepared as possible for your date. He's far too quickly become accustomed to your little quirks and reactions, the way you flinch like a frightened bunny from loud noises, or worry at your lip when you're nervous but still trying to seem nonchalant. You're hardly ever nonchalant about anything. He sees that too. "Is it the car that you struggle with?" He tries, so desperately, to claw himself from the hole he's seemingly fallen into, painfully aware that he's probably coming off as some condescending, patronising prick. He knows you can drive. Kind of. However, the thought of helping you, spending time with you, taking all of the menial tasks of daily life out of your hands, he can't help but to yearn for it. Or maybe it's just you. You're the one thing he finds himself wanting for after a life of solitude. You, your silly little shoes, and strawberry flavoured lips, your bows and pearls. You with a smile so bright it's blinding, and a laugh that could bring the cruelest of men to his knees. You are what he yearns for. The silver lining to the rainclouds which have so long darkened his days. You, you, you.

He doesn't even realise you'd been talking until you stop. Only, of course, to take the next best course of action towards capturing his attention, shuffling towards him until you're sat flush against his side, blinking up at him with a look that clearly suggests that you're asking for permission. The fact that he doesn't get hard right then and there is a miracle - though he's not sure if it's one that'll last. At least, not when you finally work up the guts to crawl up into his lap like a needy cat, searching for attention by any means possible. Last week he was barely refraining from tearing your clothes off and taking you on the counter in your kitchen. This is far more intimate. This is what he wants.

He wants to see the way your cheeks flush pink when his hands slide up your skirt, just enough to brush the calloused pad of his thumb over the delicate lace of your underwear. With bated breath, he wants to watch the way the late afternoon sun turns your hair into a halo of molten metal, cascading from the crown of your head in some glorious inferno.

The little sound of your breath hitching as he noses at your jaw is only the first nail in the cruelest of coffins, burying him alive under the crushing weight of his adoration for you. This, he thinks, this is what he's waited for. This is both his reward, and his punishment for the toil of his career, of his life. His reward, you, so sweet and soft in his lap, pliable as gold, glittering as the brightest of precious stones. Breaking you, breaking your pretty, trusting heart, is entirely out of the question. He'd rather shoot himself in the kneecaps. Walk headfirst into enemy territory and beg to be tortured. Step on a landmine. Any and all of it would be better than seeing you hurt.

Whilst he can't find the words for the way he adored you, he can most definitely find the actions.

Nothing, no man, has ever made you feel the way you do as Nikto eases you to lie back on the picnic blanket, hooking your knees over his shoulders. A kiss to your inner thigh. "I hope you don't mind people hearing, Princess. I intend to make you scream."

nikto + reader blurb

notes: mostly fluff, sex mentioned but no explicit scenes, slight body horror (nikto's scars), canon typical violence [mentions], god i love it when characters manage to heal and come to terms with their past and fall in love

honestly hoping n praying that nikto learns to live the softest n slowest life ever after meeting reader.

he's never gotten a day of comfort in his life, not after those interrogations. scared away both women and men in and outside of the military ever since then- face and body already nothing short of brutish and jagged angles, a bulk of muscle and fat that shadowed over every figure, weathered down to a near-macabre sight at the result of warfare. now the right half of his gum is exposed, torn apart by shrapnel and knife carvings that dragged across his face. sliced-off nostrils, yellow teeth poised at the world that had wronged him like a vulture preparing to feast- it was his unfortunate charm, the one that left him so often kicked out of brothels and whispered about in bars and revered in the barracks, smoking freely without disturbance in places where such had been outlawed years ago. of course he sees you- all keen and watching innocently, so starry eyed that it seems to blind you from his nature.

nikto would look down at his hands and see them as none further than machines. structured with bone and flesh to take down targets, but a puppet to the whims of the other voices that thrived only in his head. he was no more than the manifestation of his disorders, only set to take down the corpses that kortac had pointed at, the ones that kortac claimed to have wronged him.

and then you truly slip into his life, all doe-eyed and star-crossed. he thinks its none other than blasphemy, some sort of sick joke when you practically glue to him at the coffee shop, fixed on the crossword puzzles between his calloused hands. prodding around and occasionally chirping answers, some curious, but unfortunate, little thing that ended up right between his jaws. and he tries to spit you out, brush you off- your greetings at bars, parks, streetsides, alleyways none other than ignored with cold eyes and a masked face. but your laugh, sweet words- it trickles between cracks, melts the solute of stone, and soon enough, you're in his bed at seven am, tucked under his arm. he'd given you what you've wanted; held your body as gently as he had the ability to, growled some praise in your ear, let you sob into the pillows.

so he doesn't expect it when you show up at his door once again, oh-so-lovely smile on your face. certainly even more surprised when you keep coming, and cant deny the way his head goes a little fuzzy when he sees the notes you leave while he's in deployments, how you fold his sheets and put some flowers in a vase you'd bought that rested on his kitchen countertop. he leaves the door unlocked now, gives you the keys, and lets you in when the nights are cold.

you teach him things- how to tell if he's dreaming. learns to see his hands as more than accessories to murder, uses them as indicators to split his reality from the ones owned by his voices. you're teaching him how to make coffee and trim flowers and all he is learns is how to look at the world without staining it with blood. but it's okay- you help steady his shaking hands, hold the kettle of boiling water with him, and the weeks eventually unfurl into years.

and now, he wakes up next to you every morning, stays in bed cuddling with you until you reluctantly have to shove him away because although he's retired you still have a job, and he waters the plants and feeds the dogs outside, waiting only until you and the furry critters are well away to smoke. but it is not out of stress, no longer to rid himself of his heads, and more of a bad habit now. and the hole that the lack of conflict has left in him is so filled with you and your smile and your patience, with taking care of the garden, making coffee, helping with your paperwork. the never ending spurr of his voices still keeps him up at night sometimes, leaves him twitching. but it allows him to watch you fall asleep, feel your pulse under his cupped hand, even through the throbbing pain.

this is what life is meant to be like, maybe. taking off his mask and unbuckling the straps so he can feel your lips against what was left of his.

Heat Wave

they said what they said.

clothing practice

Enji's the only one who can get the vicious little dinosaur to sleep.

꒰ঌ Cᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ Dᴀᴅᴅʏ ໒꒱

╰┈➤ The real best icky!daddy, king of ddlg and master of the orgasm is one Yami Sukehiro i can promise you that.

╰┈➤ Tags: shortform, drabble, size, a dash o’ belly bulge, dummie/puppy/little girl/fuck doll, DDLG, diet-cest (aka not explicitly stated, but the vibes are there) Daddy!Yami Sukehiro x fem!reader

Daddy Yami is carrying you to his bed for a midday nap and sitting you on his cock to keep him warm. You’ll think he’s asleep and try so wriggle free but his big hands are grabbing you harshly by the ass to keep you still.

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl.” He chides with his eyes still closed, smoothing a palm over your hair once you’ve settled back into his chest.

Daddy let’s you take sips of his beer and pulls from his cigarette as long as you don’t inhale. He likes how you look with your cheeks puffed out and the glaze in your eye when you’re trying not to cough.

“Daddy’s girl” is not just a pet name, that is what you ARE. Only Daddy’s girl. Only Daddy’s little fuck doll. Only existing in and for the pleasure of Yami. He loves you too much, he doesn’t need you worrying about having any thoughts other than sucking on his fingers and getting bisected on his fat cock. ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

You get so shy and incoherent when you’re fucked brainless. Daddy loves watching his stupid little cum puppy try to sit on his dick all by yourself, how needy your little pussy is to have Daddy deep enough you can feel it in your lungs.

“Slow down, baby, I know you think you can take it like a big girl, but you always end up cryin’ and tellin’ Daddy it hurts too much.”

Daddy’s right, of course, but in your delirious, fucked dumb state you just can’t help it. You crave the pain, the little bulge in your tummy and the way Daddy presses his big hand into your abdomen so he can feel how fucking deep his cock is.

And Daddy is whipped for you like softened butter, he’s going to fuck your slack body up and down on his cock.

He’s going to fuck an extra load in just because you’re being bratty, you are still his good girl, after all, and you deserve it. ꒰ঌᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ໒꒱

* 𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ *

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

Nanami x Julio Triviño

cr:rtylenole

𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓴𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓷

Nanami x Julio Triviño

cr:rtylenole

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍’ 𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍’

𝐀/𝐍: here's what you've all been waiting for . . . more preschool!sukuna !! — as thanks for 1000+ followers — also, also, big thanks to @domainofmarie and @beyond-your-stars for the idea !

𝐖/𝐂: around 1.7k

When you first met Sukuna, you thought he was a strawberry incarnate. Maybe it was his hair — which you were shocked to find out was natural, maybe it was his eyes — that seemingly glowed maroon whenever he was even slightly vexed, or maybe, just maybe, it was the way his pale skin turned a cute shade of salmon whenever you looked his way. In any case, you stood by your decision. — Sukuna was a strawberry.

And, if you thought hard enough, you would remember the times where you used to try and eat Sukuna. Yes, you read that right. Sometimes you would go up to your friend, grab one of his cheeks in your hands, and chomp!

Unfortunately, you did get in trouble one or two times, not because Sukuna told on you — he would never even think of doing such a thing, — but because Sukuna walked around all day with a bite mark engraved on his cheek.

You actually haven’t stopped this deed of yours. It’s become a habit, or an addiction, as Sukuna called it. But he didn’t mind. He never did. Not if it was about you.

But what he did mind, was, when people would try to take your attention off of him.

For instance, right now. You were seated beside Sukuna on the bus, and in the midst of trying to take a bite of your strawberry, whilst said strawberry was just staring out the window, letting you give your best efforts. [No, he did not give you the window seat.] Out of the blue, another one of your classmates approaches your row.

“Hey, guys! Can I sit next to you—?”

“This seat is taken.” Sukuna swiftly turns to face the boy and gestures towards the empty spot on your left. Albeit it was obviously not occupied, Sukuna didn’t even try to make up a better excuse.

“Umm, it’s actually—”

“Taken. It’s actually taken.”

Due to Sukuna’s unwavering glare, and clearly irked expression on his face, the boy clumsily shuffled away.

“‘Kuna,” you started, in that soft tone of yours — which never failed to lift his spirits, “he just wanted to sit down with us. And—and, no one’s sitting there anyway. Lying’s bad.”

“Yeah, well,” he huffed. “Next time I won’t lie, then. I’ll tell him he can’t sit next to you.”

“You mean ‘us’?”

“I mean what I said.”

“You’re the most confusing strawberry ever.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the strawberry did not get less confusing once you two arrived at your destination . . . the zoo!

Your teachers had originally planned to separate the class into two groups — in order to avoid chaos — but, when they noticed you and Sukuna already holding hands, they refrained from their decision of splitting you two up. They knew it would always end up being a battle they couldn’t win, no matter how hard they tried. Sukuna would never let go. And you, being you, wouldn’t let go either.

“Hey, Sukuna! Can you hold my hand? Those animals are scaring me.” A girl asked, once your group had reached the lion enclosure. You turned your head and saw the girl stick out her tongue at you. You frowned.

“Out of my way,” Sukuna elbowed her, sending her stumbling, “we—she wants to see the pandas.” Sukuna managed to successfully drag you a few feet away from your classmates before your teachers spotted the little attempt at “escape” and reprimanded you two, leading you guys back to the rest of the group.

Sukuna frowned, yet his grip on your hand never ceased. However, the frown soon flipped upside down, when your teacher guided the group over to the pandas. Sukuna noticed a growing smile on your lips, and hid his own, turning slightly away.

You pointed at the pandas behind the glass wall, “‘Kuna, look! They’re so cute! Aww, I want one as a pet.”

“Yeah? Then you’d have to clean up all their poop. Look at how big they are, and just imagine the size of their poop. It must be equal in ratio, y’know.”

You stifled a giggle behind your free hand, “Okay. Then . . . I would just make you clean up the poop and take care of the hard stuff. And I’ll do everything else.”

“Sure.”

You jumped up and down fervently, continuing to grasp his hand all the while. “Really? Yay!”

“Whatever.” Sukuna turned away from you, again, and worked hard to contain his laughter. You just looked so . . .

“Over here, everyone! Come this way,” your teacher yelled, making you guys continue on your way. “I meant everyone, Sukuna. Don’t stop your friend from listening to the teacher, didn’t I tell you? Wouldn’t want to leave you guys behind.”

Sukuna sighed, yet obeying nonetheless.

As your class left the animals encased behind glass walls, you passed by another enclosure on your way out. — A group of turtles.

You let go of Sukuna and ran up to the glass, pressing your face against it, not noticing the way your breath fogged up the glass. You gasped, loudly. “Woah! They’re all such pretty colors—ah!”

Sukuna pulled you back just as fast as the turtle came near the glass and banged on it with its flipper.

“What happened?” Your teacher asked, in a tone full of genuine concern.

“The sea turtle, it—it attacked me.” You pointed at said animal.

“No, it didn’t. You’re just being dramatic. It was behind the glass.”

Miss Wells’s eyes flickered between you two as you and Sukuna argued and bickered over what happened. When she realized nothing serious occured, she backed away. It was funny, she had to admit. The two of you were fighting while still holding hands.

“Hmph! It did attack me.”

“It didn’t even touch you.”

“Yes, it did.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Uh huh.”

Sukuna, this time, didn’t bother hiding his laugh when a gorilla beat its chest and you jolted in your position. But, he didn’t forget to squeeze your hand, assuring you nothing was going to hurt you. Not if he was there.

The rest of the day was spent seeing alligators, tigers, spiders, snakes, you name it. And, although you did get a little spooked a few times, you couldn’t deny you were totally bummed when your teacher announced the field trip was over. You didn’t even get to see your favorite animal yet.

As for Sukuna? He couldn’t deny he was totally bummed seeing you look so upset.

When your group rendezvoused with the other half of the class and loaded onto the bus, Sukuna helped you put on your coat, as the weather had decreased drastically.

You leaned your head on your strawberry’s shoulder. “‘Kuna,” you sighed, clearly exhausted after a whole day of fun.

“Hm?” He pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear.

“Why are you still holding my hand?” Albeit you were tired, you were never too tired to giggle.

“. . .So you don’t get lost. Duh.” It took Sukuna quite a bit of time to think of a decent answer.

“But, we’re on a bus. How would I get lost?”

“You never know.”

“You’re such a dummy. It’s literally impossible.”

“You’re pretty good at doing impossible things.” — Like, making his heart race, running through his mind all day long, giving him a feeling other than anger. You were a master at doing impossible feats.

“Shut up.”

“Oh yeah? If I shut up, then, how would I be able to give you . . . this!” Sukuna pulled out a stuffed plushie of your favorite animal of all time from behind his back, as if he had been waiting for this moment all his life. And, maybe he was. You never know, right?

“Sukuna!” You gasped. Reaching out your hands in a ‘gimme, gimme’ manner.

“Not even a ‘please’? Not even a ‘thank you’?” Sukuna teased.

However, he didn’t have much to say once you leaned over and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, making a ‘mwah!’ sound as you did so. "Thank you, thank you! — So much!"

Sukuna touched his cheek with his hand, his face immediately reddening. All the while, you took your chance and snatched the plushie out of his arms, quickly cuddling it to your chest.

“When did you even get this?”

“. . .” He was broken, absolutely stupefied, and unable to speak.

“‘Kuna?”

“Oh, what? What did you say?”

“I said, ‘when did you get this’?” You repeated, still entirely focused on the animal in your arms.

“Right. . . I got it when you were in the bathroom. Spent all my money on it. I didn’t know gift shops were so expensive.” He scratched the back of his head.

“Of course it would be expensive, silly! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!"

He smiled. “I beg to differ.”

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

more preschool sukuna pleasee!! so cutee

>_<

Part I - Part II

A/N: wasn't planning on making more but ah, here i am

Preschool!Sukuna who is a total menace and bullies everyone (even the teachers) but you

Preschool!Sukuna who helps you put on your backpack and coat

Preschool!Sukuna who secretly hates seeing you cry whenever you get injured

Preschool!Sukuna who is the most devilish little brat to the teachers; they have to come ask you for help whenever Sukuna refuses to cooperate

Preschool!Sukuna who holds your hand all the time, and when people ask why, he just says you get lost easily

Preschool!Sukuna who shoves people who try to hold his hand away (except for you)

Preschool!Sukuna who absolutely destroys people who bully or make fun of you; he thinks that's only his job

Preschool!Sukuna who shares his juice box with you

Preschool!Sukuna who pushes you, and only you, on the swings

Preschool!Sukuna who draws and colors you pictures

Preschool!Sukuna who gets into fights 24/7, whether it be physical or verbal

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius

I’m a simple woman, im the happiest person only for look to my awesome husband Enji

Inglish isn’t my first lenguaje sorrrrry 😭