#io.sxc

Kakashi

You're watching him with a shameless grin as he moves his hips faster and faster, eyes finally cracking open although it's impossible to tell how long he's been awake. He's hazy at first, lost in whatever dream he was having, and then he sees you and he keeps eye contact as his movements become more deliberate, slower, rolling into the motions and sighing, eyelids half lowered. "Not going to ask for me, pretty boy?" you coo at him and he doesn't answer, daring you to do something about it, his heart racing as he's sure you will. The question is whether you'll let him come first.

Tenzo

He wakes up breathing hard, disoriented by the feeling of overheating, flushing in waves and embarrassed. But he's so close too! He experimentally grinds against the pillow. It's not as intense as when he woke up, embarrassment is making it harder to sink into the arousal, and it takes a while to work himself up. All the while he's been subconsciously scooting back until his back is against your side. His movements and needful scent have made his alpha hard too, and he can feel them when they roll over and hold him from the back. That feeling is what he didn't know he needed and he accidentally edges himself as he goes back and forth between grinding his behind against his alpha and his front against the pillow.

Shisui

His hips move in little jerks as he comes to. He wasn't having a spicy dream, he just felt warm and comfortable. He starts to think if he was turned towards his alpha, he'd be grinding against their hip and thigh, slicking into his pajama bottoms, maybe sinking into it as they turn to kiss him. Imagining grinding against his alpha sort makes him think himself into a half-lucid wet dream where he's not sure if the pillow is his alpha. He starts chirping for them, which leads to his alpha pulling the pillow away and replacing it with their body to make his dream a reality

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Choso

As a stranger to having a physical form, there's a disconnect with experiencing unintentional arousal. He has the foundation body's memories, but they hold no emotional weight for him. It also isn't in his nature to seek furious and immediate satisfaction. He's dogged, not classless.

He's also half asleep when you catch him jolting into the long pillow that lays on his left side, followed by grinding into it before relaxing again. When you ask him if he wants you to take care of him, he groans an agreement that becomes muffled by your mouth as he moans yes again and again to each press of lips to his shoulders and neck. To his surprise, you guide him in rubbing against the pillow, soaking the seat of his flannel while you have him in hand, and kissing him silly with giggles once coming wakes him up the rest of the way and he's sort of adorably disoriented

Satoru

The slow burn simmers in his belly as he tries to stay asleep a little longer after another long night. He's finally tumbled into bed with you and your arm is around him, your breath tickling his nape. It's comfortable but also uncomfortable, hot but also not hot enough. He feels like he wants something to satisfy the ache between his thighs that eased each time he pushed a bunched part of his pillow to his core, but also disinclined to do anything about it. The frustration is starting to wake him up into a foul mood when you croon, purr against the back of his neck, go from kissing to licking his bondmark, the one obvious scar on his body, and latching your teeth into it just enough to flood his brain with something that calms his growing impatience without making him limp as a kitten. You nibble on the scar around his gland just enough for it to last and he resists the urge to try flushing the hormones from his system as you reach around and brace the pillow, make it easier for him to push onto. "Patience, my dear," you murmured, languid and unbothered, "just enjoy it." So he tries, letting his breathing go deep, feeling the sparks through his core as you kiss now and again against his mark, keeping him calm and contained until he slips off the pillow and onto your thigh, and then slips comfortably back to sleep before he can come.

Suguru

Is a little unsatisfied from the moment he's aware enough to realize he's been digging his teeth into his own arm and grinding against the huge body pillow on rather than his alpha during his afternoon nap. He finds his alpha napping in the chair by the bed, and lifts their hand to his nose, rubbing the gland in their wrist and inhaling as he wraps his thick thighs around the wide pillow, getting almost embarrassingly slick from his alpha's pheromones in his nose. He doesn't want to wake you, but he also kind of wishes you'd wake up and help him deal with this. He's embarrassingly aroused and moaning quietly as soon as you're awake enough that he doesn't feel like he's actually waking you up with his display, eagerly awaiting a quick romp and tie before he has to get up and deal with the mess he's made of his life.

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Sunday

Freezes in mortification once he realizes what he's doing, feeling his traitorously sensitive body pulsing at his core, having almost come without a single layer of his immaculate pajamas being moved. He's listening intently for his alpha to see whether they've heard him and think he is deserving of scolding. If his alpha does not wake up, he confesses to them later that he might had have a lewd dream leading into a rude awakening, and that he tried to do something for his arousal before he realized what was going on. He looks like he's going to pass out when you cheerfully tell him that this isn't abnormal, but he's secretly quite pleased when you misinterpret his concern and fluster, and simply end up telling him to wake you up next time if he needs something

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Homura Shizuka (psycho pass)

There is a delicious wickedness in you as you croon, "Dolly dearest, you look so lovely in everything. I'm having a hard time choosing. Would you tell me which would best suit you on a winter's day?"

He eyes one and then the other as you really ask him whether he would like to be a beautiful silhouette, admired and later appreciated, or accessible to your every whim.

When his slow-blinking gaze lingers a little too long on the long skirt, you lay aside the trousers and oblige him. The corset really is helping keep his breathing in check as he imagines your hands everywhere.

When he is dressed, you set up a place for him to sit on a soft rug with pillows to lean back against, a short table to rest his hands, cushions to keep his bones from pressing against anything hard, and pose him. You turn the mirror so he can see himself.

Skin flawlessly finished, eyes lined just a little bit with a flash of almost invisible color, lips glossed to a sheen, clothes pleated and arranged. The thigh-high stockings under the skirt make his leg where it peaks out look sculpted, toes blurred to just the pointed shape of his foot.

You sit behind him, wrap your arms around him, looking at him in the mirror, inhale the scent of product and the mellow hush of all his emotions gone quiet when he's like this. "Dolly dearest," you purr the words that signal you're letting him reply. "It's nearly lunchtime and I'm getting hungry. Shall we take our tea?"

"Shouldn't it be still be teatime?" he grumbles, hoarse from his silence, but he's allotted few sentences when you play this game. He doesn't feel much like thinking today. The weight of your arms lets him exist without suppression, the cinched spots of his layers of clothing remind him you're with him.

"Right you are." You're laughing at him as he gets propped up at the table for you to set it. The three tiers of the tea stand are actually quite impressive, ordered from a cafe nearby that does such things.

He's not all that eager to move, as this requires some planning, but he obediently sips at his teacup, which you keep full enough he doesn't have to tip it far, and eats sandwiches and tarts and scones with such tiny bites you can hardly tell he is moving his lips all, which is a part of this he came up with soon after it became apparent he would want this more often.

He largely gives up with the soup, which brings with it the benefit of you moving close enough to feed him tiny sips, dabbing at the corners of his mouth to keep it from spilling on his clothes.

He pretends not to notice as your movements shift the skirt higher and higher, exposing the garters holding his stockings in place. All of it you pat back down with a slightly smirky look once the meal is done and he's signaled you that he has had enough to eat.

You snap a few pictures on the polaroid, and end up changing his clothes a few times for it, tilting him this way and that to get a different feel from each thing - a silky shirt tucked into a pair of shorts, a red velvet off-the-shoulder with those trousers in coffee, a cream and green wide-legged combination that mirrors a belted wrap-top, and then back to the original, minus the corset as you finally lay him on the bed, read to put your Dolly Dearest away and bring your Megumi back, bit by bit as he's ready to return to you.

You've reapplied his lipgloss. Smearing that veneer away as you brush your lips to his unresisting mouth starts to pull that sense of self back from the perfectly safe little box it's been in, makes it start to fill his body again as he no longer feels the need to be hidden and kept in a small, protected space.

He inhales deeper as he starts to need air and as you touch the ring on his finger, the one that shows other people when he wears it out that he belongs to you.

As you slide the skirt up and unclip his garters, pulling down his stockings, the air feels colder and he shivers, feels you smile as you tug the covers into a half-wall around the two of you. A decent nester, for an alpha, he things not for the first time, parting his lips to draw your scent across his palate, roasted sweet with the pleasure of being with him, with the heat of your hunger for him.

That makes him kiss you back, pressing into it as you lift his hips to undo the buttons behind his hip and slide the skirt off, away to the end of the bed.

He inhales sharply as your nails scratch the lace - which explained that choice, as though he didn't know where this could go.

There's more lazy kissing, which he profoundly enjoys, each warm press and soft sound drawing him back into himself as though with marionette strings. His hands grip back, squeezing rather than lying limply as his fingers find the spaces in yours, his stomach jumps as you nose at the tender place behind his ear, kissing down the side of his neck. Your hand traces curiously over the lace on his chest, mapping the feel of it against his skin and containing the perked swell of his breast.

"Do you like this one?"

You give him so much time to answer, to let the words filter like syrup to where he can think on them. He'll answer, later. When things speed back up to their normal pace.

It feels nice though, it does. The texture is exceedingly pleasant as he feels himself get a bit wetter than just background arousal as you start to kiss his neck.

"You don't mind the powder?" he murmurs.

"You ready to have it off?"

When he nods, you slip away for a moment to lay the skirt across the back of a chair and to wet a few cotton pads with micellar water. It feels good to have the powder off, lighter. It makes him more eager to get back to kissing, to your hand sliding back up his sweater to press your nail around his nipple.

He's a little more hesitant when your hands trail lower, teasing around his hole, closing his knees and whining softly in a way he wouldn't if he was all back with you. Your hands retreat and he breathes easier. He doesn't want to do anything about it right now, maybe later, when he can fully appreciate the set you have him in and feel sexy about it.

The low simmer in his belly just feels good the way it is, ebbing and flowing as your hands slip around his waist, pulling him close, making your body the new container for his being. "Love you, Megumi," you whisper as you trade another set of slow kisses, the remnants of the gloss sticky between you.

Yes, that's the important bit, he thinks, as his mind starts to settle, personhood slipping back into the cracks of him. He tucks his nose briefly into the sweater, picking up the spice of himself and enjoying the texture.

He knows that you love him very much, that you take care of him when he just needs to not be quite so responsible or present, when he needs to be just a body that is still a little bit Megumi, and entirely part of your omega, your mate.

"Ready to come back to me, Dolly Dearest?" you murmur, the question you ask at the end of every seen, this time as you feel him inhabit his body again, his arms wrapping around your waist in return.

Itachi, if at all reasonable based on the position and if you have pushed him out of his own head enough to feel he is allowed it by making you pleased with him, will hold onto you, as tight as wooded over ivy, with all the gentleness he was denied setting down. Especially through his first one or two completions, while he needs your body around his to be able to come at all, to feel safe in the surrender of it. He's fought so long, had to give so much, that true surrender is a gift he needs you to pull from him with gentle tugs on the ropes holding him wound tight, like the secret knots of a message only you know how to undo and tie again, take him apart, put him back. He wants to see you as he comes because you have become his moon, but a larger part of him does not want to see himself, the expanse of his betrayer body, the way it embraces yours although he does not deserve it... and until he's too weak to hold on, he would rather hide himself in you. it doesn't matter how long it's been, it's strange still to get lost in his body as he pulses around you, whimpers spilling from his throat that you are gracious enough to tuck into your own, guarding him in every lifetime that will let you have him from his own weaknesses

naruto is a bit noisy during sex. he's not the kind to hold anything back once given permission to let it out, but his deepest emotions still take some coaxing free, to let him know it's not too much, that he is also enough. it's a balance most people don't realize as necessary to get to the real naruto, the one who grew into full capability in making hard decisions, who worked hard with you and his teachers and himself to see himself not just as a sacrifice to his village, a severed thread reaching back to the a past where he might have been loved, earning the love of acceptance, but as it's first spear, wielded to save lives that include his own, to serve as both weapon, and as the support rod around which growing things can climb and become strong. making love is affirming for him, and that makes the tone of his voice when he comes a little pitchier, any and all forced happiness stripped away in favor of explicit physical emotion that connects him to his alpha in a letting go as a gentler rain rather than a stormburst, especially as one orgasm bleeds continuously into the next as he takes your hands, your knot, your whole heart in a way he never thought before he would receive without blood on his knuckles or between his teeth.

sasuke always starts with trying to stay quiet. now that you know one another very well, there is absolutely delight in showing him for a liar and stealing away the self control he uses to conceal the extent of his devotion. sasuke has always loved hard and deep, with every part of his being, but when it's twined so deep into him, everything hurts all the more. it's invasive, and he has tried to tear it out by the roots but love hardy enough to burrow deep into the arid landscape he became is harder to remove than that with shallow roots in soft soil. sometimes he wants you to feel that pain with him, to dig his claws into your shoulderblades and rake them down, but you are so much part of him. so much part of him that he also cannot bear making you suffer together, that it's all he can do to wind his fingers against your roots, press his fingers just shy of to bruising your hip, your ribs, your shoulder, and his mouth to yours to gift the sounds of his passion until he can't breathe and breaks away with a struggle to gasp, rattling for air through the little death that soaks the bed beneath him

haku makes love like he is welcoming a second world into himself, like he is a conduit, no longer for the dreams of others, but for all the things that awaken him. the delicate-petaled flowers that grow at the roadside, the little black-muzzled hares that dotted the cold lands near the place of his birth and now nibble grasses in his backyard, the budding trees with their tufts soft as mouse fur. he welcomes your pleasure before his own, because it is life-affirming for him to be loved, and some part of him has never let go of wanting to be of-use, even as he lets you hold the dark parts of that need between your fingertips, the dark, deep ice of his heart, held between your lips so safely it wouldn't melt, cupped in palms so careful a snowflake wouldn't fade. winter thinks itself so monochrome, but like diving deeper into a blank page, in love he has shown new subtle shades. he loves to watch the blue sky as you swell in him, seal into him, sear his core with your heat spilling, see the birds wheeling, feel the echo of the seasons across his skin, whether this is the liquid summer morning sun and riotous green scent of growth, or a damp fall rain with its scent of leaf-mold and mushrooms, in tandem with the steam from your breath or the sweat of your skin on his. as he comes, the feeling gallops though him after the feeling of your peak found in him, and he looks as you, his mate, holding your face, turning it to his, or to the world he sees, so he can share every part of his life with you inside and out

not sleepy-tired, but kind of fucked-out tired, dazed eyes, oversensitive, especially if you've been playing with his cock

blames his alpha for the way he kind of needs really wants something inside to be done-satisfied, fingers, a toy, your tongue, just the tip of his alpha, something, but he is used to and truly enjoys the feeling of his alpha touching his cock and prefers to come that way

having his alpha inside often seems too luxurious and he won't stand for being knotted easily when he's not in heat, although if you challenge him somehow related to his stamina, than he might be tricked into it

might die on the spot from how fast his heart is going if you let him take you and him in hand together. He's hyper aware of differences ie his alpha's knot compared to his distinct lack make him light-headed

has a love-hate relationship with the times you can keep up with his stamina pre-ascension because he loves making you breakfast the morning after, but if you've kept up it means you've worn him out to the point that it's hard to walk. Truly a dilemma