#idontblushsrry

Bonus (NSFW):

Thank you for reading!! Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed :) (Srry no twst masterlist yet ;;)

He and Sam had been working a job which turned out to be a much bigger case than either of them were prepared for when they got word that you and Bela's little hodge podge criminal enterprise were rolling into town.

Now, in addition to being stuffed into a claustrophobic suit and shoes he's sure have to be two sizes too small with how they're squeezing his feet, he also has to deal with the additional headache that you and your "business associate" bring.

Bela he could handle, she was a stuck up, british, priss and he had no problem telling her quite plainly to fuck off. You were the problem. You had a way of making Dean's head dizzy with your stupid expensive perfume and your quiet, lilted way of speaking. Every movement you made made Dean want to stop his heart from beating, if only for the fact that it distracted him from hearing every word that escaped your perfectly plump lips.

Tonight was no different, some charity gala for some stupid rich assholes to feel better about themselves, not that he really knew what the cause was when he was so focused on you.

Sam had left to sneak upstairs and retrieve the amulet before either you or Bela could poach it. His job was to stay downstairs and watch the exits, make sure that neither of you had the chance to slip out of here.

You put the entire room to shame with how good you looked. You were wearing some sort of done-up gown (that he'd bet his baby cost a small fortune) that was pink and covered in a subtle shimmer of what looked like glitter but upon your approach he realized were thousands of tiny crystals, each placed meticulously to give your dress the flowing appearance of being bestowed upon you through magic.

He's faintly aware of the disapproving stares you garner as you move through the room, unbothered by the disdain and disbelief painted onto the faces of the gala attendees.

You spotted him first. In no time at all you glide across the room, the small train created by your dress is no hinderance to you at all. You move so gracefully, so delicately that if he didn't know any better— know you—the way you bare your belly only to claw out the eyes of any foolish enough to fall for your trap—he'd say that you belong here, amongst the diamonds of society. If he didn't know the viciousness with which you could cut—deep enough to scar, but still light enough to heal— he'd push you away and tell you to go rub elbows with the changemakers of the world, not to spend your night with a man who's nursing a champagne flute, hoping it'll magically turn into beer.

He's supposed to be watching you. Bela's run off to who knows where so he'll stick to you like a barnacle to make sure whatever plan the two of you have cooked up doesn't go through.

"Funny seein' you here Winchester", you say like he'd be anywhere else. You know the shadows with which this business operates as well as he does, and he knows you're not stupid.

Still, he says, "You do know what'll happen if that amulet gets used right?"

You don't respond, merely sizing him up with a discerning look in your eye. He didn't notice it earlier, but your dress has a slit up the sides that stops right in the middle of your thigh. He's successfully stopped himself from taking in the view of your breasts provided by the halter cut of your dress but his traitorous eyes find themselves stuck on the delectable sheen of your legs. The bit of thigh he's able to see shines like a bottle of the finest top shelf whiskey and the filthiest of intrusive thoughts peek in telling him to take a sip.

Your conversation continues, you've gotten whatever information you needed from the silent exchange, and he's mentally chastising himself so it's a bit stilted and one sided.

He's not sure when or what made him think this was a good idea but somehow he's gone outside with you. He's got you pressed against the side of his car and you've managed to wrap one leg around him.

The both of you sit in this closeness, every breath he exhales you swallow, and it's doing something funky to his mind. Your spell continues as you break first and kiss him, giving in the slightest bit when he's frozen with indecision while his brain and dick war with each other.

He can feel his cock hardening, it makes the suit uncomfortably tight. He grinds into the plush fabric of your underwear for any hint of relief. It's only when you bite his lip and his hand has slowly snuck up the back of your head—desperately clinging to the freshly done braids you sport—that he stops.

This is wrong. So, so wrong. He hates you.

You steal dangerous artifacts and sell them to the highest bidder, you couldn't care less who dies because of your actions, you've stabbed him, shot Rufus. He should kill you.

"You conniving bitch."

"Dean, language! You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Fuck you."

You take his hand in yours, calloused and pliant. He should yank it out of your hand but your perfume fills his senses and he's distracted again. "Now Dean, we were having such a good time together." Your other hand reaches towards the halter of your dress, you cup your breast in the top before pushing the flimsy thing aside, revealing your bare breast to him. "Let's not ruin it with petty fighting, ok?"

You take the hand in your grip and drag it over your exposed breast, groaning when his fingers catch on your nipple. You don't stop there, your hand firmly grasps his wrist, you've shifted its position to create a more secure hold with your nails, and draaaag his hand down the length of your torso, his heart pounds with each bit of soft skin that his fingers are allowed to touch. Your leg is still wrapped around his waist and you use it to tug him the slightest bit closer.

"Or", your voice lilts with the proposition, a promise of something more to come, "If you still insist on fighting, maybe this will change your mind?" With that, you pull his hand down further, using his much larger hand to cup your pussy. You're soaked, the fabric of your underwear is warm and he's overcome with the urge to rip them off of you.

"You can move them you know", you're still there, of course you are. You've bewitched him and your spell has a devastatingly short range. Your hand, which rests atop his, moves to match the shape of his hand. Your fingers, adorned with a fortune's worth of jewelry and a set of gaudy acrylic nails, reach down, puppeting his fingers while he stands powerless to stop you, and force the gusset of your underwear to the side.

The sudden warmth and wetness is a shock to his system, his dick wins the battle over rationality as he mutters out a stilted "car", while scrambling for the keys to his Impala.

You laugh at his panic, because you're evil, and he thinks he grumbles a "shut up" that only serves to make you laugh harder.

He finally opens the door to the car's backseat and you get the memo because he doesn't even have to say anything before you and your fancy-prissy-pants dress are in the car.

The two of you are inseparable once inside. Dean's backseat is pretty spacious but it's not nearly enough space for everything he wants to do to you so he has to formulate his plan of attack.

Scrunching up your dress allows your legs the full scope of their movement and you use your newfound freedom against him, immediately pulling him close to you with a surprising amount of force before he can even get the chance to undress.

He can feel his mind being wiped clean with each press of your lips against his. You're constantly picking at him too, nipping and fighting back against his tongue when it presses into your mouth.

He pulls back first, breaking the kiss for his own sanity, "Fucking—stop distracting me." Your legs loosen their grip and for the moment, you allow him to do as he wishes, laying content as a fat cat in the backseat of his Impala.

Finally. He loosens the bowtie around his neck, not at all missing the pressure it inflicted upon removing it, before moving to remove his suit jacket that feels akin to a straight jacket in such close quarters. With the slightest of restrictions removed from his body, he's finally able to breathe. The scent of sweat and sex fills his car as he huffs the heady aroma.

He rolls up the sleeves of his jacket, undoing the top few buttons before sliding his fingers into the elastic waistband of your panties. You put up very little resistance and it takes everything in his power not to stop his task to lick at the pearl of your clit, as luminous as it is in the lowlight of the backlot he's parked in.

At the feeling of your sharp nails thumping his head, his attention is drawn back to you. You've moved back a bit, pressing your head against the window to make the logistics of positioning yourself for backseat sex a bit more comfortable. "I know she's pretty Winchester but please focus", your other hand comes from seemingly nowhere, drawing his attention downwards as you spread yourself open, "I promise if you're quick, I'll make it worth your while."

In no time at all, your underwear lay forgotten in some unknown shadow of his car while he's head first in your perfect little pussy.

Another thing about you that pisses him off. You don't even have the decency to be ashamed about the sounds he's making as he sucks your hypothetical soul (he's still not 100% sure yours isn't on loan from Hell) out. The gushes and sweet squelches your pussy makes as his tongue and fingers take turns fucking it could make a pornstar blush, and yet, here you are, seemingly unbothered by the obscene noise, only telling him what to do with a firm grip on his hair and breathy moans of "Right there, Dean" and "Fuck me harder".

His dick's aching in need and he palms himself through the suit—rental deposit be damned. You're intoxicating, his fingers are prodding into you, trying to best translate the shape and feel of you to the hand he's half fucking his dick into. Your taste is the sweetest nectar he's ever known—made all the tastier by its tartness and the way your thighs seem to be two seconds from crushing his head whenever he circles your clit. He hates himself just a bit more for the eagerness with which he surrenders to your allure.

He pulls out, your pussy's a suction force and getting it to release his fingers is made all the more difficult by the way your nails dig into his scalp—just painful enough that the promise of violence is there, not certain, but a metaphorical gun placed on the table. "Winchesterrr", your voice is no longer gentle and seductive, it takes on a tinge of restrained fury. This is who he knows you to be—you're not some dainty angel floating through crowds of equally enamored and repulsed idiots—you're mean. You're selfish, vindictive, and you'd kick, claw, scratch, and shoot before not getting your way.

Dean knows he's lost his mind when he feels his dick throb at the thought of you furious with him for leaving you unattended.

You sit up and your hands move. He's successfully freed his fingers from the snatch trap of your pussy but he's not doing anything and it's pissing you off. It's impressive the level of dexterity you have, even with those plastic knives you've attached to your fingers— and he briefly thinks of how your nails might sound, clacking together as you stroke his dick— as you pop the remaining buttons of his shirt open—one by one.

He would be lying if he said that the sting your fingers left in their wake as they ran down his chest wasn't exhilarating. A threat and a promise wrapped up into one as your fingers skirt the hem of his slacks before running back up to settle around his neck.

"Look, I've never been choked by a chick before but—"

You pull his dick out so fast that he's left speechless mid-sentence.

"Shut up", you pump his dick a few times, your nails don't clack together but your hand is so soft that he finds a thousand new fantasies emerging with every up-down stroke of your hand. Your palm presses into his throat, not crushing or painful, just...there, as your fingers come along and press faintly into the sides of his neck.

"Dean, one thing that you should know about me is that I will not be left wanting", you squeeeeze the head of his dick in a rolling motion that nearly has him folding over, "I'd sooner tie you up and gag you. Understand?"

The hand holding his neck moves to grab his chin, you bring him to meet you, eye to eye, as your unimpressed face stares back at him. "I'm only saying this once so pay attention, 'kay", you say this, but the hand stroking his dick doesn't even attempt to slow down, "You're gonna eat my pussy. If you make me cum, I'll do something nice for you. Take what you're given and be good to me and we'll have a good time, nod if you understand."

Your words leave no room for argument and he nods, all fight leaving him as you push him down onto the seat and prepare to mount his face. He doesn't even argue when you put your dirtied hand out, waiting for him to lick the precum from it with an assured expectance. You've stopped stroking his dick in the midst of this, it's uncomfortably hard but you smack his hand away when he tries to reach for it, reminding him to "finish what he started".

With Dean’s tongue having cleaned your fingers, you wipe your hand onto his undone slacks, sinking onto his mouth in one fluid motion. Your dress covers his face for the briefest of moments until you pull the skirt up again, "Fuck, wanna see your face pretty boy."

His dick throbs at the compliment—he'd flip you off if his hands weren't busy keeping you in place.

You seem to be closer than you initially let on. You're riding his face with reckless abandon and he mentally swears at the crick in his neck that he's certain to get from the angle you've maneuvered his head into in order to get his tongue to reach every part of you.

"Fuck! Fingers—Use your fingers!"

Well if he wasn't sure if you were close before now. He does as told, shifting you ever so slightly so he can use his fingers while his tongue lavishes attention onto your clit. You buck into his face one final time, pulling on his scalp in a way that makes him concerned for his luscious locks, before letting go as your orgasm releases and runs through you.

Dean keeps consistent as you ride the feeling out, switching out his fingers to lick up the glaze left in the wake of your orgasm. You seem softer like this, less trigger-happy and almost...vulnerable but before Dean can dwell on that fact for too long, the jingle of some mass market pop song rings out, causing the both of you to sober up.

How you manage to find your phone in the midst of a clothes pile, low lighting, and the jiggly, post orgasm feeling is a feat worthy of some level of respect from Dean (but then again, his dick's still hard and his decision making isn't exactly the best at the moment).

The flash of blue light that illuminates your face before you press the phone to your ear is enough to return some of Dean's senses to his wound-up body. Shit. He left Sammy inside by himself—fuckup was too kind of a word to describe what he was.

You're taking the call and you glance at Dean from the corner of your eye. He's not sure what look you see in his eyes but you press your palm into his chest when he tries to sit up.

"I'll meet you there", is the only part of the conversation that you bother to respond to with words. The rest has been a series of 'mhm's and 'hm's that have left his impromptu reconnaissance with no useful information. You end the call and turn to him, "What a shame, and I was having so much fun playing with you."

You readjust your dress and Dean laments at the disappearance of the nipple that he never got to properly lavish attention on before realizing with a start that you were preparing to leave. "Hey! So you get to fuck my face and all I get is a sloppy handjob?"

You pull a compact mirror out of a purse he didn't even notice you had—god he was getting sloppy—and give yourself a once over, not even bothering to look at Dean as you respond, "Sorry pretty boy, I've got to cut tonight's game short. I've got business to attend to."

You retouch your lips, smudged by the night's activities, before deeming your appearance to be good enough and returning your compact to your purse.

His dick is out, everything's changed too fast for his head to keep up. You open the car door, stepping out before turning back and slinging something at his face. The snap of elastic hits him right in the forehead before he's even sure of what's happening, "However, I did promise to reward you so, in return, you can use my panties to sort yourself. I'll let you keep 'em and everything, free of charge."

Dean rubs at his forehead as he unfurls the underwear you've graciously left him with, they’re pink (of course), with a black lace applique around the hem. Though it's hard to fully make out, he's certain that the bulk of the fabric has lettering printed on it—"They're Dior!"— you say as both confirmation and as if that makes the situation any better.

"I don't want your damn panties! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

You laugh, mocking sound indicative of just how seriously you take his rage. "See you around, Winchester. Better luck next time."

And with that, you close the car door and leave him with little more than a raging hard on and a pair of stupid girly girl panties. Alone, with no external pressures or judgment, Dean's mind makes another (ill-advised) decision.

"Son of a bitch."

Dean really did hate you.

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog, and leave comments if you enjoyed. I'm thinking of expanding this into a broader story set so please let me know if you're interested <3

Supernatural Masterlist || Masterlist || Taglist

He thinks of the many nights he'd spent alone, tormented by the memories of life in a castle so desolately devoid of it.

Then he looks to you.

You look so peaceful, you're sleeping and as much as he wants to reach out to you, seek your comfort when his mind has betrayed him, he'd sooner die than disturb your rest.

He moves to the door of your shared chambers-- already he misses the warmth of the bed-- and moves to leave, hoping that there'd be a spot in the library that he could cuddle into until sunrise when--

"Adrian? What's wrong?"

Ah, how foolish of him. Of course you'd notice he was absent from your bed, you needed him just as he needed you.

"My darling, it's nothing. Just a bad dream."

Concern colors your expression as a frown begins to form on your face.

Suddenly he feels very guilty.

"C'mere my love."

He does as bade, crossing the room in the blink of an eye. You're kind, even in your admonishment of his behavior. "We swore a vow to each other. I swore to protect and care for you, how can I do that if you hide your pain from me?"

He doesn't make a habit of arguing with his spouse, nor does he intend to start. He agrees with you, it's easier that way. Besides, he already feels the ache within his lonely and rejected heart begin to recede in the the face of your warmth.

You lay his head in your lap. Soft words of a song foreign to his ears but melodic all the same tumble from your mouth.

In between the verses of the song, he does recognize one phrase--one that you'd taught him so that he'd know it each time it fell from your lips.

You love him. As wretched and cursed an existence as he was destined to live, you took his cold hand in yours and stood firm by his side. He was certain that he hadn't done anything to earn the fortune of your company after such a miserable foray into his young adulthood, but maybe he didn't need to earn it.

His eyes close as your voice carries him off to dream land-- this time certain to be filled with much more pleasant dreams of you-- he thinks, not for the first nor last time, that he is incredibly grateful to have you.

Trevor

In general, Trevor is really bad when it comes to sleeping.

Not that he was necessarily a paragon of mental and physical health but Trevor doesn't really do well with anything that requires him to be still for an extended period of time.

He's used to fighting demons and monsters through the night, an activity that's famously known for it's sleeping benefits, of course.

And on the rare occasions when he's not fighting through the night, he still struggles to get any restful sleep.

He saw his family slaughtered at age 12 and he's been on the run, defending himself since.

Siting still long enough to fall asleep and the accompanying nightmares once he does fall asleep just remind him of everything he's lost, and too often the feeling hits him when he's unable to numb the pain in the bottom of a bottle.

It's not exactly difficult to piece together the reason that Trevor's been so irritable lately (...well, more than usual).

It doesn't take a unique sort of genius to see that Trevor's been avoiding sleep. In fact, you've had many a night in which you've had to force Trevor to bed, although it rarely worked.

One day, the both of you have managed to stumble upon a town with actual travel accomodations. The innkeeper was friendly enough and didn't pry into you nor Trevor's backstories.

That night, you feel the greatest sense of relief at the feel of the plush mattress. It was nothing fancy but when you've been sleeping on wood and straw for weeks, it was downright indulgent.

You'd made Trevor strip out of his clothes, demanding that he not dirty up the bed with his filthy outdoor attire.

Beat back with exhaustion as you were, you were one more slow blink away from just passing out, but the sight of Trevor pacing the floor next to the bed gave you pause.

"Trev", a yawn slips out before you can even think to stop it, "What's the matter?"

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

Well that was the most concerning dismissal you'd ever heard from him. Not only had he brushed you off, he hadn't even noticed that you'd never really went to sleep to begin with.

You called him over, lifting the blanket up so that he could find a comfortable position beneath the comforter before wrapping your arms around his midsection.

You don't know what possessed you to start humming a lullaby--an old one that you'd learned in childhood-- but the sound of the song reverberating through your chest seemed to soothe Trevor the tiniest bit.

Your fingers found purchase in his hair, tracing nonsensical patterns against his scalp.

You kept humming though, even as the shapes in the room blurred and the world became little more than dream sand, you kept humming for Trevor.

It wasn't until Trevor started snoring that you'd nodded off, still singing that sweet little lullaby.

Thank you for reading!

Lavender: Quiet Devotion

A relationship with Sesshomaru means getting used to a lot of silence

Not for lack of trying on your end but Sesshomaru's just not really one for talking

He'll speak to you when giving instructions or informing you of some change in plans but outside of that he really only speaks in moments of intense emotion

He simply prefers to express himself through actions, elegant and precise, with not a single wasted movement or hesitance in his decisions

Sesshomaru's preferred mode of..."communication" really only causes problems in the beginning of your relationship, before you understand his subtle romantic cues

For example, the first time you told him you loved him

You were a nervous wreck, terrified that you felt more deeply for him than he did for you

(At this point in your relationship, you'd slept together but outside of that, nothing had really changed about how he acted towards you other than he'd check to make sure you weren't too far behind)

You'd gone ahead and confessed to him anyways, words just kind of spilling out while the two of you sat around the dying embers of the campfire, the rest of your travel group sleeping peacefully

In your defense, he looked beautiful. The faint light from the coals lit his face with a warm glow as the moonlight lit his hair and made him look entirely unreal, like a prince of the stars had come down to bless your dreams

He said nothing at your confession and you didn't follow-up with anything either, too embarrassed to think of a response

Your embarrassment was short-lived though as he wrapped the fur he always carried with him around you, pulling you into his side--his warmth

The pleasant feel of his chest rumbling in your ear was second only to the sound of his voice, quiet but firm in its declaration, "Mine."

Daisies: Youth, Family, Gratitude

If this list were an actual bouquet, these would be flowers placed by Rin more than anyone

Though your relationship with Sesshomaru isn't solely about her, it's impossible to deny the importance of the little girl on your relationship

In a way, Rin is kind of like your guys' first child and she partially the reason the two of you got together

When you first started travelling with Sesshomaru, you didn't really care much for him. You thought he was rude, abrasive, and arrogant and you really only became apart of the group to be a guardian to Rin

However, observing the gentleness he held towards Rin and the indulgent way he entertained her antics softened your heart to him

(Of course, you'd still go on to dislike him for a couple weeks after that but Rin was a big part in you not seeing him as just a giant asshole)

He in turn, felt nothing towards you. He felt a slight irritation at Jaken's additional squawking and having another body to protect (especially considering Rin's fondness for you) but other than that he didn't really feel much about you either way

It was seeing the way you put your life on the line to protect Rin that made him reconsider you

There's a gratitude in your relationship that stems from your mutual love of Rin, and in being each other's support when it comes to her

When you and Sesshomaru officially marry and you and Rin move into Sesshomaru's estate so that you can begin managing the household, Rin further catalyzes your relationship when she begs for a sibling

"Pleeeeeaseee, it's no fun being the youngest! Besides, I can teach them everything I know."

You gently try to tell her that you and Sesshomaru aren't looking to add anymore children to your family when Sesshomaru agrees with her

Well, so much for that

What was another kid when you were already parents anyways?

Japanese Water Iris: Strength, Victory, Protection

An aspect of your relationship that goes without saying is his protectiveness

From the moment you endeared yourself to Sesshomaru, you became his to protect

This protectiveness skyrockets once you begin a courtship with him, even moreso once you're officially mated and married

Sesshomaru's protection of you is so absolute that it's second nature to you, you never even so much as flinch at danger when he's around

Even when he's gone, you never worry, knowing he'd return at the slightest hint of you being in danger

Even in times like this, where you've been kidnapped by a particularly zealous sect of monks who are currently debating on whether or not to kill you based on if you willingly accompany "The Western Plains Demon" or not

Currently the idiot who knocked you out is arguing with the idiot that tied you up about whether an exorcism should be performed to clear your mind from Sesshomaru's influence

As if that would work

The leader of the group seems to be partially listening to the arguments presented, he's mainly occupied with scanning your bound up body. What he's searching for, you don't know

His gaze, somehow managing to be cold and slimy as it roves over you, seems to land on the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, where your mating mark rests--silver and subtly thrumming with Sesshomaru's power

His eyes narrow in rage, shit, and you have only a moment to react before his leg comes forward, aiming a kick right at your face

His companions, shaken out of their argument at his rage, pull him back, preventing his foot from making contact with and shattering your face

"Let me go! They bear the mark of the demon, we need to burn them before the creature comes to kill us all!"

His companions perk up, looking at you in a new light as their leader pulls the collar of your top down to expose your mate mark

And honestly, maybe you should've been afraid because fighting three buff ass, well-trained, warrior monks alone was not something you felt confident doing, let alone with your hands and feet bound

But well, your mate mark hummed against your skin, you were certain it was glowing as well

He was here, you were safe

Needless to say that the three men were disposed of, by Jaken no less, as Sesshomaru released you from your bindings

He was pissed

"I'm ok, they didn't hurt me."

"But they tried."

"Yes, but I had you to protect me."

Your words didn't do much to calm him down, but you basked in the feel of his hands running over you, checking for injury

The feel of his hands, slightly calloused and gently touching you in a way that belied their strength--their deadliness-- was enough to set your heart aflutter

Sesshomaru was upset--worried about you, but he'd be ok once he knew you were fine, you'd let him fret over you until he'd calmed down enough that you could convince him to use his hands somewhere else

Heliotrope: Everlasting Love

Under everything though, Sesshomaru holds you in incredibly high regard

His devotion to you is unquestionable and you know that your love will last long beyond the end of time

Every day with Sesshomaru is a joy, the small family that you've made for yourselves, the uncompromising severity with which threats to your safety are dealt with, even the gentle way he kisses you beneath the moonlight

All things that make you fall in love with him even more

It's late at night, the moon shines on your sweaty bodies as you both (mostly you) regain your composure

You think of the way that you'll feel pleasantly sore tomorrow and how Sesshomaru will pack up camp for you--rolling up the tent you currently lay in last to allow you a precious few more moments of sleep

A cool cloth rubs down your face, your face pinching slightly in reaction

Sesshomaru wipes your body down, attentive as always and fastidious in his duty, though you do interrupt him somewhere between wiping your thighs down to give him a kiss

In this cocoon of bliss, you're free from responsibility, from reality, even feeling weightless and almost free from your body

Tomorrow looms like an ever-present threat to this soft bubble of content you've created but for now, you simply take in Sesshomaru's presence

No words are exchanged, none need to be for you both to know this is an everlasting love

Leon Kennedy

Carefully

Leon's very careful when it comes to you in general, let alone when it comes to sex.

He's so gentle, always stopping to check in with you and asking if he's doing ok.

Although he's very gentle, that doesn't mean that he doesn't know what he's doing

Trust, when he gets his mouth on you, it's a 10/10 everytime

He'll slide his tongue over your pussy, before settling on your clit and sucking on it like a lollipop.

Whenever he goes down on you, his eyes tend to roll back into his head, before he closes them in bliss.

And when he pulls away to ask if what he's doing is ok, it's always just enough for his mouth to form words. Best believe that man is stuck to you like a barnacle.

When Leon eats you out, he sometimes has a bit of a staring problem. Like he'll fully pause, spread you wide open just to stare at your pretty lil' pussy.

Is it embarrassing? Yes.

Does he care? No.

"What's the matter lovely? A man can't stop and smell the roses?" is his go to line before he dives back in.

Jill Valentine

Hungrily

Jill lowk the #1 munch.

She gets down, she don't play.

If you're looking to have your pussy ate and nothing else for hours on end, call her.

The moment Jill unbuttons your pants, a flip switches in her brain and she starts sniffing and grabbing at you like you're a 5-star meal and she hasn't eaten in days.

She's the type to say fuck your underwear and just push it to the side or just barely out of the way, like she just can't wait to taste you.

Your comfort's always in the back of her mind, but she does get ahead of herself sometimes and she'll just move you into a position that allows her to fuck you with her tongue better.

(Have I mentioned that she's buff as shit?)

When Jill eats you out, there's less of a focus on your clit, it's more about her licking up every little drop that comes out of you.

Not that she'll leave your clit negelcted but it's pretty obvious that that's not her primary goal.

Of course, she's not like this 100% of the time, eventually, she has her fill and she's able to focus of bringing you pleasure.

...Which then starts the cycle over again because she swears that your cum tastes different when you orgasm.

Chris Redfield

Affectionately

Chris is a sloppy eater.

Lots of spit, drool, and wet kisses placed on your cunt.

He's very affectionate to say the least.

When he eats you out, it tends to be very loud because of the fact that this man will suck and slurp you up like a slushie.

He has next to no shame about it because he thinks you're the sexiest thing on Earth, so of course he's gonna eat you like your pussy's leaking ambrosia.

He's the type to hump the bed and cum in his pants while eating you out.

Honestly, he prefers for you to ride his face, he loves to just put his tongue out and let you get to work.

He's also not shy about any mess he makes, he says it's just proof that he can't get enough of you.

Places lots of kisses and bites onto your thighs and stomach. Honestly, he leaves kisses everywhere when he's going down on you.

He usually pauses in the middle-- replacing his mouth with his fingers-- and kissing your lips.

The kiss is always sloppy, the two of you "making out" by sucking on each other's tongues and lips.

When your lips are properly swollen with kisses, he returns to eating you out-- trying to make sure your pussy looks as puffy as your lips do.

Says "I love you" in between breaths.

Ada Wong

Frustratingly

Ada is probably the worst eater on this list because she will not indulge you at all.

Like if you're expecting Ada to let you ride her face and push her around however you like...good luck with that.

Not to say that she's mean or that she'll never indulge you, but she's got her own agenda and your desires are more of an 'eventually' than a 'right now'.

That is to say, prepare to be edged or overstimulated within an inch of your life.

Ada's really good at pushing your buttons, and she knows exactly what to do to push you to the edge before letting you down gently, whispering and cooing about how good you are in your ear.

"Ah, so close. I think this time we'll get there though, what do you say darling, up for one more go?"

Her trasing can become frustrating, especially if she knows she can take her time with you.

She'll reapply her lipstick just to leave lipstick stains all over your body, she'll suck your juice off of her fingers-- thrusting and scissoring her fingers into her mouth in pale imitation of what she'll do to you-- and make out with you so you can taste yourself on her mouth.

She's mean, so, so mean.

She'll push you just a bit further each time before rewarding you for your patience with a long overdue orgasm.

She's also the only one of the list who never solely uses her mouth when going down on you. Whether it's toys or her fingers, she prefers a more... hands-on approach when it comes to pleasuring you.

Thank you for reading! Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

Naraku: (Technically he already has a gang of kids but anyways). Naraku's issue with children is partially a genetics issue. He has his reincarnations-- which he doesn't consider his children-- but they're 100% demons. Whether you're a human or demon, the fact remains that he's a half demon and the thought of a human child disgusts his demon sensibilities and the thought of a demon child disgusts his human sensibilities. Even if you were to adopt, you'd run into the same issue-- Naraku's just not equipped for the kind of selfless love that raising children requires and you'd have to be incredibly selfish (and foolish) to attempt to bring a child into the situation you have going on with him.

1-2 kids

Sesshomaru: Although he may say otherwise during his rut, Sesshomaru is actually very meticulous and intentional about the amount of children he wants to have. The both of you have several long talks about your desires and the amount of children you'd feel comfortable having/supporting. Ultimately, I think Sesshomaru would aim for just one additional child. Another thing that causes him stress is the introduction of sibling dynamics into your small family. He worries that his children will inherit the strained relationship he has with his brother and he doesn't want the two of them to feel like they have to fight over their inheritance. Ultimately though, his worries prove futile as Rin is the best big sister and dotes on her younger sibling who in turn follows her around like a duckling.

Kikyo: Due to her being killed at such a young age, Kikyo never really got the chance to think seriously on if she wanted children. She had devoted her life to being a miko and she was pretty young when she died so she never got to challenge that decision with a desire for a family. Of course, she loves her younger sister and raises her but that's different. I think that Kikyo would have one child though, likely adopted or fostered but one that she raises to be a miko like her. Of course, if her child didn't want that path, she'd respect it but she'd teach them everything she knows regardless.

Sango: I think Sango is one of the only people on the list that's flexible when it comes to kids. She's relatively neutral when it comes to the topic of kids and she's more than comfortable with following your lead on them. Ultimately I can see Sango with one or two kids as family is important to her but not so important that it would greatly effect your relationship.

3-4 kids

Inuyasha: I think Inuyasha has a deep-rooted desire for family that never really manifests until you manage to get him down long enough to have a conversation about his feelings. Initially, the thought terrifies him, so overwhelmed with want as soon as he speaks the idea into existence that he doesn't know how to handle it. With time though (and a lot of inner work), Inuyasha's desire to have a pretty large family is spoken of. Of course, he'd respect your wishes-- he'd honestly be fine with no kids-- but part of him can't help but desire a small gaggle of children with you.

Omg that's a small army

Bankotsu: Somebody tell this man to relax. Anyway that you can have kids, he's taking it. You can get pregnant? You're gonna need to remind him that you need to heal before trying to have another baby again. You want to adopt? Sure! He'll just kill the parents of the cutest kid in town and boom-- parents. (You have to gently steer him away from this course of action because he will do it). Overall, Bankotsu easily finds himself comfortable with the idea of having at least seven kids (no reason for that number in particular, it just 'feels right', he says) and he will try to sway you if you don't want that many or don't want kids, so, good luck!

Koga: Unlike Sesshomaru, this man talks a lot of shit during his rut and means it. I think Koga also just has team dad energy so if the two of you have one kid, but your kid ends up making friends, Koga becomes those kids' dad too-- much to the dismay of your actual child. Though Koga often speaks of wanting anywhere from 8-12 kids (depending on the day), he ends up having that many and more because he becomes a father figure to any child that needs him.

Thank you for reading! If you liked, please lmk! In the meantime, here's some links that you can find my other works at.