soft rot confessions

making you gush after your orgasm. after your orgasm rips through you, leaving your pussy clenching and fluttering in hypersensitive spasms, he doesn't stop right away—instead, he keeps you spread wide and ruined, softly kissing you at as he starts tapping his fingers lightly against your swollen clit and soaked folds, each little smack sending jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your overstimulated nerves—forcing fresh, uncontrollable gushes of your slick to squirt out in messy sprays that soak his hand and the sheets beneath you. he loves the way your hips jerk and your thighs tremble uncontrollably—it's either his fingers, or him rubbing his sensitive, leaking tip up and down your puffy slit, smearing your cum and his all over your abused hole before slapping it firmly against your clit a few times, the wet, filthy sounds echoing as it makes you gush even harder, your pussy lips parting obscenely with every sensitive twitch and spurt as he circles his cockhead right over your hole without pushing in, teasing the raw nerves until you're sobbing and flooding again.

kissing you through your orgasms. the moment your body shudders, he pins his hips flush to yours, and instantly his mouth is on yours with a hard, wanton moan. you come up for air? he drags you right back down. your lips get swollen, slick, red. your tongue slides against his with sloppy, wet sounds as his hips stutter against your soaked thighs. his teeth catches your lip lightly, pulling a bit before letting it go with a gentle smack. and as the peak drags out and your body starts to melt, his kisses slow—turning languid and indulgent, soft plush lips sucking gently at yours, still buried to the hilt inside your pulsing heat while he savors every aftershock. he might not admit it but he needs it. he needs your mouth on his.

fucked out under your touch. he's fucked silly, fucked you silly, and god does he get so pretty during and after—his eyes get glassy, kiss-bruised lips parted as he pants prettily above (or under) you, body twitching with aftershocks. his hair is damp with sweat, his bangs are out of his face, strands clinging to his temples—and he just looks so beautiful. it's so obvious how pussy-drunk he is—his pupils are blown, his face flushed a dewy red, and his eyes gleam with lust and something more. you stare up at him dreamily, taking him in. his long lashes flutter as he tries to compose himself under your loving gaze, heat creeps up his neck as if it's too much for him—he tries not to fuck your snug walls again because you're still sensitive, but his hips always betray him—he'll end up grinding his cum deeper into you until it's dripping out around his cock.

hands on the mattress. you have a thing for his slender, pretty hands (don't we all.)—the way they look so elegantly long and graceful, yet hold surprising strength, veins subtly tracing beneath his skin, hands that make your pulse race every time they brush your body. he knows, you know he knows. so he uses them. during sex, his finger teasingly sneak up your palm before lacing them together in that possessive, intimate grip. he grinds your joined hands slowwwly into the mattress with every snap of his hips—his bony digits squeezing yours while your walls clench around his cock. if he's taking you from behind, he drapes himself over you as his fingers trail along the back of your hand, before they wove though yours as his lips seal over your neck. he lives for the sensation—the way your hand tightens in his as each wave of pleasure blooms through you, nails digging into the back of his, or the way your grip loosens afterwards when you feel relaxed, thumb rubbing little circles over his skin—all makes his chest tighten.

not pulling away from your pussy. there's this thing dazai does when he's desperate and eating you out. he doesn't pull back. like, at all. his moans vibrate straight into your throbbing clit, low and filthy that make your hips buck against his mouth, the wet, obscene sounds of him sucking and slurping mixing with your desperate cries. even when he gets too carried away, his breaths coming in desperate, high, overwhelmed puffs, lungs burning for air, he doesn’t pull away an inch—he presses his nose harder against your mound while his hot exhales fan over your dripping cunt. the relentless vibrations from his groans send shockwaves through your core, pushing you closer to the edge as he devours you messily, tongue fucking into your tight hole and lips sealed tight around your swollen clit, refusing to stop until you’re shaking and gushing all over his chin.

"shutting" you up when you get too loud. not because he doesn't want to hear you—it's simply to feel your moans, to make you lose it—he crashes his mouth over yours in a filthy, desperate kiss—wet, sloppy, and deep—tongue fucking into your mouth while his cock drives into you harder. spit slicks down your chin as he swallows every whimper and cry like he’s starving for them. or he slides two fingers past your lips, forcing them deep onto your tongue while he rails you. you suck, moaning loudly around his digits, drooling on his knuckles, eyes rolling back as your cunt clenches around his cock so hard it makes his pace falter—his fingers thrust in time with his cock like he’s claiming both your holes at once—it never works though. every attempt just gets you louder, wetter, filthier. and maybe.. that's the whole reason he does it.

breathless laughs. there's this point when you're having sex, and he's seeing stars. especially if you're riding him like you're trying to suck his soul outta his cock. your hips lift and slam down into him, taking his cock over and over before he can even register the thursts, soft thighs tight around his waist—moaning and babbling his name repeatedly like he's something holy. and oh, he's memorized. so much that eventually he just gives up on trying to slow you down or worse, hold himself back and keep up his mask. he throws his head back onto the pillow, running his hand through his messy locks, letting out this breathless, delirious chuckle—like he's in heaven and is getting his blessings, "fuuuck 'bella, you're so good, so fucking good-", it doesn't take long before he follows it up with another chocked, drawn-out moan that makes heat pool deliciously in your tummy. you swear you could cum from his voice alone.

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

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Kunizai kiss

i miss them so bad guys

"You did good, tiger."

set in the BEAST universe - in which Atsushi sometimes has a hard time turning back when he's been fighting in tiger form for too long.

Okokok here's some real art..... Finnaly

I still haven't gotten my stylus, but it's in the mail so yay! But I was really itching to draw dazai, so I sucked it up and used my finger....

GOD IT SUCKED, I HAVE SO MUCH RESPECT FOR FINGER ARTISTS.