Hq Smut Visuals (msby Edition)

hq smut visuals (msby edition)

featuring: hinata, atsumu, sakusa, and bokuto

warning! nsft twitter links , fem!bodied reader

— hinata

[ link ] moans when he fucks you bc he wants you to know how good ur pussy is

[ link ] he fucks you between ur thighs for the first time when u want to try something new

— bokuto

[ link ] he tries to be as gentle as possible with u when making love but he can’t help it when u feel so fucking good and loses control from time to time

[ link ] fucks you with his big breeder balls

[ link ] watching u play with ur clit while he fucks u makes him cum fast :(

— atsumu

[ link ] eats ur pussy like a starving man before he starts fucking you

[ link ] he still intends to fuck u after he cums

— sakusa

[ link ] strictly licks ur clit because he loves the noises u make

[ link ] doesn’t mind letting u ride him even tho he’s already cum. he’s strong enough to take it

9:10 pm

The oil candle burns. Its illumination warms the cold hues of his office as Levi works on yet another pile of paperwork, except he’s becoming actively more distracted as the seconds go since his door opened and closed silently, and a body laid down on the leather couch to his left a few minutes ago.

He didn’t bother to look up at the intruder, then, knowing exactly who would dare to just come in like that, the familiarity of the action implanting itself as a daily habit in his brain.

Except that usually he just keeps on working, focusing on the task at hand so he could quickly finish and eventually follow up with his nightly routine with you, but today seems like it won’t allow that to happen. He can hear your light breathing, can see you from the corner of his eye, and he has to physically restrain himself from looking your way as he knows that all hope will be lost to his paperwork if he does.

It’s been a rather difficult day for the pair of you. With the preparations for an upcoming expedition getting more and more draining, everyone’s nerves start to naturally get worse. People are getting angrier at each other, you can see the cadets’ profound fear right through their eyes, and some people start spitting shit without knowing who’s listening.

And apparently, even Levi Ackerman isn’t immune to what people can say behind his back.

He knows who he is. He knows he can be perceived as cruel, stoic, inconsiderate, all sorta shitty stuff, he’s aware of it all and learned how to live it long ago without letting it bother him in the slightest. He can be called a cold-blooded killer right in his damn face and he’d agree, but when someone else is put in the narrative, and when that someone is you, it apparently changes everything.

He was unbothered at first, used to the banter thrown at him left and right, but he made the mistake of thinking about it, and his comrades could visibly see his irritation get worse throughout the day.

And they already deal with the grumpy man on the daily, it wasn't really that big of a change, except everyone started to slowly realize that he isn’t reacting like he usually does when they pick on him.

And to top everything off, you weren’t near the whole day.

He doesn’t know who was talking. Doesn’t know their names if he wanted to punish them or file for demotion, but he thinks that it barely even matters. He probably wouldn’t do anything if he could just because he thinks that maybe, maybe what they said is true.

“I don’t know how they ended up together, to be honest!” One of them had said. “They’re polar opposites! I don't know how the Sergeant handles him.”

“He ssoooo doesn’t deserve her. She’s way too nice to be stuck with someone like him.”

“What does she even see in him? He may be pretty in the face but he’s such an asshole, dude!”

“I bet he doesn’t even treat her right. How can someone like him even love?”

He didn’t need to hear that. He already had his doubts, he didn’t fucking need to hear that.

For real, how did you even come to like him back? How does anyone fall in love with someone like him? Yet here you are, sleeping on his couch, waiting for him to finish work because you can’t fall asleep unless you’re touching him.

Yet you wake up every day and look at him with that smile on your face, like he deserves everything good in this world.

He can’t help it, the constant feeling of never being enough. You’re like the sun, too bright and too warm to be contained, a gold shine forever painting the surface of your skin that he wishes he can kiss forever, just to make sure you were actually real.

You’re warm, considerate, kind, everything he’s not, his polar opposite, yet here you are.

How is this possible?

Levi loses his fight with his body and finally gazes at you.

You have an arm under your head, laying on your side to face him, eyes lightly shut. Your uniform still hugs your body, hair a neat mess on top of your head, and you make sure to keep your boots off the couch like Levi always tells you.

God, what would he do if you left? If you just realize how shitty he is and decide you don’t want anything to do with him anymore?

“You’re staring.” Your soft voice slightly startles the saddened man, his eyes widen a bit, but you keep yours closed. “Are you done with your paperwork?”

“No, not yet.”

You flutter your eyes open. “A break, then?”

Levi hesitates. He wants to touch you, wants to keep you as close to him as possible, yet feels undeserving even of that.

He doesn’t reply. His eyes do their little zoning out thing that you take notice of, and you can see what Hange was telling you of him just before you pass by. His jaw is set too firm, Adam's apple moving harshly against his delicate skin, and his eyebrows are furrowed. You don't even think that he is aware of his frown.

He only snaps back to reality when you start moving off the couch and closer to him. Something flashes in his eyes, you think you are mistaken when you take it for panic because it is wiped away from his expression as quickly as it appears.

Levi’s heart is surely going to burst out of his chest if it continues on like this. It gets even worse when your hand touches his, and you can’t help but notice when his chest trembles as he tries to regulate a healthy rhythm, and it only fuels your worry more.

You climb on his lap, his hands immediately finding your back, while yours roam from his trembling, toned chest to tense shoulders that only seem to relax under your touch.

You smile at him. You’re always smiling at him.

“Do you wanna talk to me about anything?” You ask in the softest voice you can.

Levi’s brain seems to high-wire because, once again, he fails to reply. His confused frown turns sad, turns desperate only little by little, and his arms tighten around you like you can disappear right then and there, turn into fine dust and leave him strangled with only bittersweet memories.

His usually straight lips are curved the slightest of curves downwards, and his gaze seems unable to look anywhere but your eyes.

Levi isn’t great with words, you’ve known so for so long already, so when he stays quiet, your hand finds a cold cheek. He leans in your touch, even though you can see that he tries to restrain himself from doing so, and the look on his face just breaks your heart.

Your smile fades, expression morphing into sad worry.

“What’s wrong, my love?”

My love. Your nickname to him will forever have him feeling as if he’s hearing it for the first time.

You think it’s the expedition, just like it is for all of you. He usually gets cranky before expeditions, giving you all those instructions here and there, pulling you away for some extra training even, but this is new.

The more he trains you the less worried he is about you in expeditions as you slowly but surely become another version of him minust all the extra crack, but the worry you see in his expression right now isn’t the kind of worry you’re used to before marching to your death.

Maybe something happened, something shifted, made his anxiety skyrocket, but you’ll never know unless he tells you.

Even as you hold each other like this, he doesn’t think he is loving you enough. He thinks you deserve the world, the sun, the stars, everything that shines just the way you do, everything that he is not.

You’re so good. Your love for him is way more than he deserves.

Levi shuts his eyes before they can get teary, and you’re immediately pulling him in your embrace. With a hand in his hair and the other going up and down his back soothingly, you hold him as he should be held, with all the love and care you can provide.

His arms tighten around you so much that you hear a vertebrae or two cracking, but you never let out your discomfort. You massage his scalp as he nuzzles your neck, and his breath is still shaky.

You’ve barely ever seen Levi like this.

“I’m here,” You gently tell him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m so sorry.” His muffled words barely make it to your ear.

“What are you apologizing for?” You whisper softly, lips brushing against the top of his ear. “There’s nothing to apologize about, my love.”

There is. He thinks. There are plenty.

“Can I touch you?” His voice is small, yet dark and husky.

It warms your heart that he still always asks for that when he’s feeling down, to touch you, to feel your skin against his. It grounds him, he’s told you. Makes you feel more real.

You nod against his head and pull back to help him unbutton the shirt that lies underneath the green coat. He pulls it out of your pants, unties the binder tied tightly around your chest, and just pulls you back into your previous position again.

His lips lightly graze the skin of his neck, you fight the urge to pull away from the ticklish spot, but you’re soon distracted by the hands that roam your upper body. His touch is intimate, as if he is massaging.

Fingers trail from your stomach, to your waist, then up your back until he lovingly presses you to him by your nape with a firmer grip.

You let him do everything he pleases, letting your own eyes close as you rest your temple on the side of his head, fingers forever sinking in the raven hair. He plants a light kiss to where your shoulder meets your neck.

“You’re too good.” You hear him muffle. The feather-light touch of his fingers running down your middle soon turns into his whole hand. It trails down from your neck, between your breasts, down your diaphragm and onto your side until he settles right before your belt, and his touch turns firmer here. “Always too good for me.”

You pull away just enough to look him in the eye. Your hand returns to his cheek, and this time, you find dazed steel staring back at you, as if drunk on your touch.

What the hell could’ve happened to have him end up like this?

You pull him in for a chaste kiss, but the hand on your nape brings you closer, grip filled with need and something else, something you can’t tell, something that seems to be bubbling over him. You're pressed flush against him, bodies soon molding into one, and maybe Levi forgets his strength when he holds you like this because you’re almost out of breath.

You take matters in your own hands, then, bringing your hands up to his shoulders and you begin to massage, earning a breathy moan from the man underneath you. His grip loosens on your nape when you massage a knot away in his, and you’re given your chance to breathe when he soon relaxes enough.

You rest your forehead against his, panting slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your very soul could shatter at the look in his eyes, then. Because he looks up, eyes ever so glossy and oh so damn sad, desperate, scared you dare say. He tries to whisper something but it comes out incoherent, and you don’t ask him to repeat it when he doesn’t. A calloused hand falls from your nape to hold your cheek, mirroring your very position, and he pulls you in again.

It is gentler this time, slower. Your hands still massage every possible tight muscle you find, deliciously swallowing the pretty sounds he produces from the sensation.

Something clicks, then.

You pull back, his hands still roam your upper body. Levi’s lips try to chase after yours but they attach to the corner of his lips instead, to his cheek, down to line his jaw, and down to his neck. You move slow, make every kiss count, make sure that he feels your intention, make sure he feels loved.

That’s a difficult task, Levi never had anyone that makes him feel this way until you came along, and the unfamiliarity of the feeling always sends him close to tears.

There’s nothing lustful laying behind either your intentions. You kiss his scarred skin like it’s the last thing you can give him. You unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt and let your hand feel the toned muscles of his chest as you kiss away the pain, feeling his adam’s apple struggle where your lips land.

A hand slips in his hair, he tilts his head back.

“I love you so much,” You tell him, your lips brushing his skin. “So, so much, Levi. I can barely verbalise it.” Your head raises to hover above his, your free hand gently caressing where his skin is still wet with your kisses. The hand in his hair brushes it out of his face so you can take a clearer look, and it’s fucked up how you feel your own eyes water. “You’ll never know how much you really mean to me.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve the world,” You reply instantly, teary eyes pouring emotions into his. “Walls, you deserve everything good this universe has to offer, Levi.”

The words tick him off. He tries to hide his face, tries to look away from you as he finally begins to break, but your hold is firm when you hold him still.

“I could write endless poems about every little quirk you have. About the color of your eyes. About every scar I've traced on your body, all the way down to the way you hold your damn ridiculous tea cups. I love you so much, Levi, I can barely contain it.”

A silent tear escapes the corner of his eye, and you never hesitate to kiss it as it lands down to his cheekbone. You linger there, feeling rough hands softly trace the line between your shoulder blades. You don’t notice that your own tears have been released until his thumb wipes under your eye, returning the favor.

“I wish I could love like you,” He whispers.

“Your love is already more than enough.”

☁️ talk of the town | with diluc ragnvindr (wc: 730)

cw: soft!diluc, gn!reader, nonsexual intimacy, cuddling n snuggling, brief mentions of insecurities, fluff

a tired diluc is a soft and clingy diluc, you’ve found, but even in his sleepy state, he knows just how to make you feel safe and loved.

this blog contains 18+ content. minors please dni.

Keep reading

sub!Diluc x gn! reader

Warnings: very much not safe for w, edging, overstimulation, praise kink, minors get out of here. But also, some unabashed fluff. Yes, it contains multitudes.

words: 3,2k.

A\n: This somehow turned into Diluc character study, but I promise I will get to the filth after the psychological profiling. also, I know I tend to write in an authoritative voice like I’m stating facts, but these are just my personal opinions and if you interpret characters differently, more power to you.

Listen, i know everyone hcs Diluc as a dom. And he can be a very nice service dom, but I’m here to convince you that sub!Diluc is actually not OOC.

First of all, he’s more repressed than a catholic nun. Diluc is like on six levels of dissociation at any given moment. He sees his body as a flesh suit he’s piloting that requires an inconvenient maintenance like sleep, food and occasional sexual release. He’ll jerk off by himself like it’s a chore. 

Diluc is so touch starved it’s ridiculous, and *he doesn’t even know it*, that’s how much he’s disconnected from his needs.

And like. Helping ppl like that discover what they actually want and watching them come undone in pleasure they didn’t know they desired is so delicious. If you know, you know, there’s nothing quite like it.

But you have to go slow with him

I mean first of all, you shouldn’t mess with Diluc at all if you’re not in for a long haul, this man doesn’t do casual.

Oh, he’ll agree to try if he’s already into you, he’s incredibly indulging to the people he values. But also because at first he’ll be incredibly defensive.

Not because he’s not into it. Just as a defense mechanism, as he thinks he’ll disappoint you and he’s preparing for a failure from the start.

Diluc can see any activity with his important people as a trial where his performance will be evaluated. He is one of these “I need to get a good grade in X which is both normal to want and possible to achieve” people.

Remember the coffeeshop event where he was like “When I was a small child, my father told me to mix my first drink using all of the ingredients in the tavern. In hindsight, it was probably to see how creative I am and I must’ve failed because I just made a fruit punch and my father didn’t say if I did well”?

Like, Diluc. Baby. Honey. Sweetie. Your dad probably just wanted you to have fun in an improvised “take your kid to work” event. He didn’t judge your punch because it was about spending quality time together and letting you play with colorful syrups. Who the fuck would evaluate a small child’s creativity on the first time they mix drinks. You think he expected you to invent Pina Colada?

Keep reading

Marcos Jr. is leading not because of his credentials nor his platforms, but it's because his campaign has been fueled by years of whitewashing the atrocities his family have committed over the years, branding the martial law years as the "golden age" of the Philippines, and the fact that he bares his father's name.

Strip off his name and you'll get a lying, incompetent tax evader who graces the streets with the money his family stole from the Filipino people.

I can't blame those who voted for him because of the lies he continuously feed to those who are unaware. However, those who voted for him knowing fully well what he and his family has done to this country are traitors.

That kind of betrayal is something I will never be able to forgive.

+ fem!reader. implied age gap. breeding kink. itto is a dirty mf. asshole rubbing. ahegao description. uh drool. unprotected. mentions of mating press. this one’s originally a gojou drabble but the jjk tags hate me so here we are. this blog is nothing but breeding kink drabbles now so repetition of dialogues but we don’t care about that, okay? okay. <33

—

“you’ve cum so much,” you hiccup, long and manicured nails grasping at his face while your legs fold over his shoulders, “‘m gonna get pregnant.”

fucking you in missionary never gets old. itto likes the pure dominance he has over you every time, folding your thighs over his shoulders with your knees pressed to your ears as he pops the fat crown of his leaking cock into your cunt walls.

“well, pretty, that’s the whole point.” he grins at you, eyes piercing like a bolt as he guides you above him. “fold your thighs and lean closer to me.”

itto’s torso is sandwiched between your thighs. in your current position, he has the best view of your swollen tits and the best angle to fuck his cock deeply upwards. after all, he thinks his pretty baby would look absolutely gorgeous with his cum dribbling down her cunt.

“but… but ‘m still in college!” you whine, grabbing at his shoulder when he starts to milk himself with your fluttering walls once again. “can’t have… a baby!”

itto grunts, his balls clamping up and down aggressively with every hard pump of his hips. “you can, angel,” he groans, nails digging into your soft flesh, “you’ll be the prettiest with your belly bump.”

you are fucked, so, so well. itto’s heart clenches at your sight: eyes hazy, looking dumb and adorable on his cock. he continues to pant, pitching his hips deeper before reaching and stretching your ass to rub your asshole with his middle finger.

“itto!” you deliriously whine, pelvis bouncing and grinding. the lewd action has you dizzy, eyes blown wide, teeth clashing as drool dribbles down your chin.

itto buzzes with lust he cannot think straight. hissing and panting at the viselike grip your pussy has on him— you cannot just let his cock go.

“say it, baby, say it,” he chants before uncontrollable moans filled his mouth, “need to hear it. use your pretty mouth.”

you grin, vision blurring, finally giving him what he wants. your mouth turns into a small ‘o’, as lewd sticky smacking fills the room. “‘m gonna make you a daddy, itto.”

—

by 8kh.