When Adam Bit The Apple He Did It Because He Trusted Eve. Because He Loved Her. Adam Bit Into The Apple

the appeal of my breeding kink is purely the marking and possessive component of it. u lose me as soon as literal pregnancy is involved. like let me be a boston creme donut w/o the consequences pls i am begging. twinkie without the wrapper. good night.

How I think Aizawa Sounds in Bed (Shouta Aizawa Moaning Headcanons + NSFW AUDIO)

NSFW Warning: 18+ PLEASE!!!, Daddy pet name, Sir honorific, video audio of moaning + people doing the deed (WEAR HEADPHONES)

A/N: Y/N is Gender Neutral for this one! (+ No distinct descriptions of genitalia) the audio video is right here below :) enjoy chile

YALLLLLLLL:

Sooooooo I've explored the unholy sites of the internet and found someone I think's voice would represent Shouta's very well when he...🥴let me briefly explain:

Those low rumbles and hums that build up in his chest when he locks eyes with you while you suck his cock so well, bobbing your cute head and wrapping your soft lips around him. Your tears well in your eyes and spill over, running down your cheeks as you gag on him.

Those audible gruff grunts and husky huffs Shouta makes when he's pounding your tight, squelching hole as you whine his name, practically weeping for him to fill you up.

Those few but perfectly tuned baritone pants of praise he smoothly passes in your ear for being so good for him, knowing how to make him cum so beautifully, how to behave so obediently for him, how to give him the best pleasurable climax he's had in ages. His head is damn near close to blowing off when you whine for him to keep going, those adorable sobs, pleas and responses of 'yes sir', 'please daddy' and 'please let me cum'. The shudders and jagged breaths he exerts while he cums are impeccable. He simply can't take it all, especially when you finally release against him, shaking and clawing at his animalistic form. You're his little baby tending to his needs, giving him your sweet little hole to fill over and over, all day if he wanted to, so he could blow off steam.

He surely lets you know he's enjoying himself with his ♡︎𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒♥︎ the audio examples of such are compiled at the beginning of the post as a video!

Audio cred to WickedFellow on PH or XVids!

I'm unsure of the artist for the art/picture but pls comment if you know who it is so I can give them cred!

𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 © 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙯𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩

i've had this fantasy of like, cockwarming except there's a vibrator involved, so i'm not actually riding his cock, but i'm on it and he keeps making me cum over and over and over, just using the squeezing of my cunt to get himself off until he's too desperate to cum and he just shoves me down onto my back and pushes me into the meanest mating press and fucks me until i pass out (assuming i haven't already from the countless clitoral orgasms)

I’LL SPILL MY GUTS IF YOU FOLLOW MY LEAD

You make the mistake of asking Shigaraki about those hands he carries around, and he decides the best way to make you understand his ‘family’ is to show you. Real love means sharing everything, right?

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x afab!reader » word count: 4.8k » notes: My piece for @get-shiggy-with-it​’s Don’t Go Breaking My Heart collab! » contains: angst, heavy noncon, implied kidnapping, mild violence, Shigaraki getting weird with the hands, arguable necrophilia courtesy of ‘Father’, fingering, forced orgasm, penetrative sex, dissociation, mindbreak. 18+, minors DNI.

“Tomura, please. I don’t want to do this.”

He’s heard those words from you before. More than once, though less and less often as the weeks and months have passed. He ignores it, usually. Follows Sensei’s advice and doesn’t concern himself with those protests, because the older man has said it more than once, hasn’t he? They’ll come around, Tomura, so long as you persist. And Tomura’s nothing if not persistent.

Keep reading

This might seem a little out of left-field, but I was thinking about the Obey Me Brothers and some of their… specific vices, and things got out of hand quickly. What can I say? I’m a sucker for lists, Yanderes, and the culmination of the two.

The Yandere!Demon Brothers’ Darkest Fantasies.

TW: Graphic Violence, (Imagined) Non-Con, Power-Play, Master/Servant Dynamics, Dub-Con, Mentions of Masturbation, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, and General Unhealthy Mindsets All Around. 

~

Lucifer wants you to bow to him.

Out of everyone on the list, he does the least to hide his fantasies, regardless of how depraved or dubious or down-right disgusting they get. Why would he? There are only a handful of people stronger than him, more capable than him, and when it’s so clear that you’re so weak and feeble and in such desperate need of guidance, he hardly feels the need to wait for you to ask. It borders on pet-play, honestly, if only because he’s so quick to pull out a collar the first time you puff out your cheeks and refuse to get on your knees when he was nice enough to order around you politely.

It’s all about control for him, or rather, the reassurance that he’s the one who has it. The knowledge that he’s the strongest, the most responsible, and that he deserves to be in charge, even if things tend to get bloody under his command. He’ll make you say such awful things, telling you exactly what he wants to hear as the heel of his boot digs into your bare spine, keeping your chest pressed against the floor while you sing his praises and drag your own name through the mud, confessing every rash, irresponsible thing you’ve ever done in an effort to distract him from the whip that never seems to leave his hand. He knows what it’s like to be treated as something holy, what it’s like to be revered rather than feared, and he doesn’t want to stop pushing until you look at him with the same admiration, the same unadulterated love he used to be showered in.

And if you don’t, if you won’t, he’ll be happy to break you down until you don’t have another choice. Obedience is a close second to reverence, and Lucifer has enough toys to make either a viable option.

Mammon wants to keep you to himself.

It’s a natural progression, honestly. He’s your first, he’s your man, and you’re his human, his responsibility, the most useless treasure in his collection and the only one that truly, genuinely matters to him. For now, he can wrap an arm around your waist, narrow his eyes and keep any potential rivals at a distance, but he can’t do anything to keep away his own brothers. Baring his teeth and sharpening his claws feels childish when all you do is smile and tell him not to be so jealous. Everything he does feels pointless when you can just laugh and run off with the first person to pull you away from him. You make it pointless. You are pointless, you should just be lucky he wants you anyway.

It’d be so simple, too, so easy to just close the door to his room and not open it again, not until you’re chained to something too tight to slip out of. No one would be able to get their hands on you, no one would be able to take you away, it’d just be you and him and no one else, not if he can help it. You’d be his to ruin, his to care for, his to dote on or discipline or do whatever he pleases to, whenever he wants to. It’d be heaven for him, and… it wouldn’t be, for you.

That’s part of the fantasy, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to be cruel to you, he doesn’t want to see you cry because of him, and yet, all he wants to do is polish his newest addition until it’s as shiny and as his as the rest of his hoard. He wants not to care when you cry, he wants to look down at your shaking body and he wants to laugh, to sneer, to tell you that this is your fault and you have no one to blame but yourself. Maybe he wants to be more apathetic, maybe he just wants to stop being so hesitant, but what he wants seems to be less important than what he’s starting to need. If the number of ‘packages’ he’s been getting is any indication, I wouldn’t count on his reluctance lasting for much longer.

Leviathan wants you to make him cry.

He’s not a masochist. Or, he is a masochist, but not in the way you’d assume. Leviathan doesn’t bother pretending to be confident. He doesn’t act like he has all the self-esteem in the world, and he doesn’t try to hide his (admittedly poor) view of his lifestyle. That might be why he loses his composure whenever you compliment him, why he stutters and blushes and gets so awkward when you try to tell him that you like the way he is, that you love him for it. That you don’t mind.

It’s an awful, unhealthy part of himself that wants you to say otherwise. To contradict yourself, to smirk and shove him onto your bed and say you couldn’t find him more disgusting, that you’ve never known someone so pathetic. Maybe it’s just a depraved daydream, a desire to have his worst fears proven right by the person he loves most, or maybe, he just likes the image of you riding him into overstimulation as you make him thank you for taking pity on someone so hopeless, maybe he just likes to imagine the feeling of your hands around his neck, your grip tightening every time his gaze falls lower than your eyes. He has a whole list of names for you to call him, insults ranging from ‘pervert’ to ‘drain on society’, but he’d never tell that to you. No, he can barely bring himself to think about this kind of stuff, let alone say any of it outloud.

All he can do is let his touch wander whenever he hugs you, let his fingers brush against things they shouldn’t and leave them to linger for far too long for his actions to be taken as an innocent mistake. He isn’t sure whether he’s trying to push you to hate him, trying to really make his fantasy into a reality, or if he just wants you to get the message that he wants something more intimate, something more violent. Either way, he’s started leaving his door unlocked when his mind begins to wander. Open, sometimes, if it’s just the two of you home. Just hope your room isn’t too close to his. He tends to get… explicit, when he’s feeling passionate.

Satan wants to show everyone who you belong to.

His fantasy is one of the most depraved, if only because it barely has anything to do with you. No, it’d only be fitting for the Avatar of Wrath’s favorite daydream to be centered around something more possessive, something more domineering, something totally and utterly separate from the person he loves. You’re not replaceable, it has to be you for him to care to put in the effort, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to check whether or not you’re enjoying yourself when he bends you over the dining room table in the middle of breakfast, for no other reason than Asmodeus commented on your outfit and Beelzebub offered to carry your bag and neither of them should be doing so much as looking at you when he’s right there, when it’s so clear that you belong to someone and that he doesn’t want to share.

On the outside, his self-control is as impeccable as always, but he’d be lying if said his hand didn’t twitch every time Mammon stood a little too close, every time Leviathan scraped up the courage to talk to you. He’s so strong, too, and you’re so, so weak, it wouldn’t even be a fair fight. He could cage you against a bookshelf or throw you onto a countertop and what would you do? Try to push him away? Scream for help? An audience is what he wants, what he craves, a crowd of anyone and everyone who’s ever touched you to watch as you beg for him to stop and moan his name and cry as you cum, even if he has to get a little messier than he’d like, for that. Risky sex might come close to scratching his itch, but the risk of being caught and making a show of something so private are two different vices entirely. You’ll be lucky if it does anything but make him bolder, more blatant with his plans. He takes after Lucifer, in that regard. He doesn’t know why he’d try to hide it.

As far as he’s concerned, he owns you, and you’ve only got yourself to blame if you haven’t realized that yet. It’s only fair that he gets to mark what’s his, as plainly and as publicly as possible.

Asmodeus wants you to say ‘no’ to him.

Do I really have to say anything else? He’s so tired of seduction, so sick of glazed eyes and glossy lips and people so intoxicated by his presence, they’re practically tripping over themselves just to feel the heels of his boots press into their backs as he walks over them. It’s not that he wants a chase, he’s always been a pacifist at heart, and he’d rather not have to resort to any unsavory means, he’s just bored and feed-up and he wants something new, even if it’s only fun for him.

It doesn’t help that he’s terrible at holding himself back. He’s good at hiding his true feelings (he’s already so touchy, it gets hard to tell what’s innocent and what’s not), but it’s impossible not to notice how fond he’s become of admiring your wrists, buying you bracelets so thick and so heavy, you can hardly hold them up. You can’t ignore it when he takes a moment too long to pull away when you tell him you want space, or just how hesitant he seems to let you go after ‘playfully’ pinning you to his bed. He wants to keep going. He wants to see the light drain from your eyes as you realize he’s not going to stop, to feel you writhe and struggle and try to get away, to hear you scream your safeword and to ignore it, to not care than you don’t want him. He doesn’t want to make you suffer, not any more than he has to, but his heart never fails to beat a little faster when he pictures it, and he gets more excited than he’s been in centuries by the thought alone.

If anything, you should feel honored. It’s been so long since he wanted something so specific, someone so specific, he almost forgot what it was like to lust for rather than be lusted after. I’d say he’s unprepared for it, but Asmodeus is hard to catch off-guard, and this just so happens to be his area of expertise. He has a way of getting what he wants, even if he has to make things a little difficult for everyone else.

Beelzebub wants to see how far you bend.

You really can’t blame him for being curious. It’s more of an intrusive thought than a fantasy, something he can’t help but think about, not once he realizes how strong he is and how resilient you aren’t. And, unlike the others, his fantasy has a specific catalyst, a real, substantial reason for its existence. He’d just been holding your hand, his grip still bordering on loose, but your fingers had cracked under his like glass under a bulldozer. It was just a sprain, something Simeon had healed with a contemplative glance and a flick of his wrist, but it stuck with Beelzebub. It stuck with him and god, he wishes it hadn’t.

He can’t help the places his mind wanders to. He can’t stop himself, not once he starts wondering what it’d be like if he was just a little bit bigger and you were just a little bit smaller and he cared a lot less about hurting you than he does, in reality. You’d be so tight, warm and welcoming and so easily broken if he does so much as breaths on you the wrong way, and you’d look so pretty afterward, too sore to move without his help and absolutely covered in bruises and bitemarks he didn’t even have to try to leave.

The aftercare is the only part he doesn’t mind wanting. At least it’s softer than the rest of it, full of kisses and snacks and touches so light, he can almost pretend he hadn’t just imagined fucking you until your ribs caved in under his palms. He’s mapped out every ugly, tender mark he’d leave, every place you’d ache and throb, every minute of your recovery - every second it’d take you to get well enough for him to do it all over again. Maybe he’ll even call in a favor, bow his head and swallow his shame for just long enough to have someone who’s got a hand for healing on stand-by so he wouldn’t have to wait, but he never lets his mind drift that far. He’s too busy trying to convince himself he still doesn’t want to hurt you.

Belphegor wants to take advantage of your trust.

Unlike his twin, Belphegor wishes he just wants to hurt you. Pain is simple, or, physical pain is simple, anyway. He could tell himself it’s because you’re human, that hating you is just an old habit he hasn’t kicked. He’d pinch your cheeks and pull at your hair and he’d try to be satisfied with that, he’d tell himself he doesn’t want anything more. He’d be lying to himself, of course, but it’d still be an honest effort. Unfortunately, what he wants isn’t that clear-cut. It isn’t that shallow, and that’s why he has to hate himself for it.

Maybe it arose the first time you fell asleep before him, when you were so vulnerable and exposed and so helpless he had to wonder whether or not you had a deathwish. Or how at-peace you seem during his rare shows of affection, as if the talons tracing patterns into your skin couldn’t easily dig in and pull at the slightest hint of a threat. You’re so comfortable around him, so careless, you need to be taught a lesson and he needs to teach it to you. On good days, it’s almost innocent. Groping you while you’re only half-awake, letting his hand trail up your thigh during a council meeting because he knows you’re too nice to say anything. On bad days, on most days, he’s fucking his fist to the thought of holding you down while someone you like much less than him does something vile to your anatomy, only offering the barest hints of comfort when your crying gets loud enough to be annoying.

You trust him, and the worst part is, you’ll probably still trust him when he’s done. He’s been forgiven for worse, and that’s what gets him off, the idea that you’ll still look at him like the closest friend you’ve ever had the moment he averts his eyes and offers a half-hearted apology, saying he’s grown, that he just had to get it out of his system, that he won’t do it again even though he absolutely, definitely will. And you’ll believe him, because somehow, you still trust him. Because you’re always going to trust him.

Because he’s prepared to bleed you dry until you don’t know how to do anything but trust him, anymore.

Telling your sub to keep their eyes open while you fuck them has gotta be the hottest thing ever, saying “look at me when im fucking you baby. I want to see how good im making you feel.”

Giggly sex where you say “you’re so good to me” as you laugh and it makes your partner growl and nip at your lip and when they pull back they say “let me show you how good”

Aizawa is addicted to making you cum. Sometimes he wakes up so riled up from you softly sighing and nuzzling into him all night, from being tense and pent up all week, that he starts to finger you first thing. You might try and push him off, laughing, saying that you're not even awake yet, but he'll just mouth at your neck while his long fingers spread you open and coax sweet, soft arousal from you. He makes you cum once on his fingers and then again on his cock, bucking into you slowly, dragging it out. You're more than ready for breakfast after that, and while you brew coffee and he makes food he keeps coming up to you to stand behind you, grope at your ass and tits, kissing your exposed shoulders. You realize that it's gonna be one of those days and make a bigger pot of coffee. He tugs you back into the bedroom after you spend half an hour with your plants, pets and whatnot, and locks the door. He fucks you rough this time, pinning your wrists above your head and watching your tits bounce, telling you how sexy and juicy your body is, how much he wants to never let go of your plush softness, how much he wants to bury his cock in you every moment of every day. He edges himself for what feels like two hours, moaning that he doesn't want it to end, wants more. He makes you orgasm around him by rubbing at your clit while he pounds into you, and the feeling of you squeezing around him, your moans and whimpers, your strangled "Ah...S-Shou!" makes him see stars. His balls tighten up and he can't take it. When he finally cums inside you, your pussy quivering around him from the pretty pretty moans he grants you, he just keeps going. His stamina is insane and you're delirious. He fucks his cum deeper inside you and this time goes slow, almost lazy. He lies on top of you, his tongue in your mouth, panting, praising you. You're my good girl, so sweet for me, so tight. I've been fucking you for hours and you're still fluttering around me. Are you that needy for me? Say it, kitten, say you're desperate for me.. You cum around him with a gentle mewl and a rolling, languid shaking. There's not much energy left in you and your pussy is a little numb from the friction, but you still want him. You still get wetter and wetter when he groans or rolls his eyes. Aizawa is tired too, but he wants to see you cum again. Just one more time, for him, please. He knows you can. You're almost crying from overstimulation, your pussy raw and puffy. He gets comfortable between your legs and latches onto your clit, sucking it so gently that you cum easily and tears spill out. You're still shaking and moaning when he crawls back up your body for a kiss. You beg him to stop now, you need rest. He promises you can have anything you want for cumming so pretty for him - his dick twitched and swelled from your sounds and taste. You're hungry, so he orders food and you cuddle while it arrives. After you both eat and rest a bit he might just get another couple orgasms out of you. He knows you can do it for him.

I should be on someone’s lap getting my neck kissed and ass grabbed right now 🙄

Yooooo that dark Mic anon might be onto smthn...u just know he’d get off to the thought of flipping up his favorite student’s skirt and bending her over his desk while she calls him Mr Yamada

The Mr. Yamada tho ♡♡♡♡

That makes my coochie flutter so much ♡♡♡♡♡

Hold on just a second. Just one itty bitty second. I just- I need to-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He thinks about it more often than he should.

He likes to think that you think about it, too.

His favorite little student- so easily flustered and so very sweet, so eager for praise and such a good little girl that gives it all for her beloved teacher. You’re so fuckin’ cute- a real sweetheart- and, god, Yamada loves sweethearts- you’re his true weakness with your innocent face and shy smiles, your soft giggles and sparkling eyes. He loves you and he loves how good you look in your uniform. He loves how soft your thighs look and how hard you work to please him, how you savor his compliments with an eagerness that can’t be faked.

Such a good girl. So genuine. So pure.

He’d love to see the faces you make while grinding on his cock. He’d love to see how sweet you’d look with teary eyes dazed with pleasure and your lips trembling with anxious desire.

He’d love to bend you over his desk and flip your pleated skirt up, get a real good glimpse of your cotton panties.

You’d like it, he knows- you’d like the attention from your sensei and you’d like him teasing you over your wet little pussy and your soft, whiny gasps of “Mr. Yamada!” You’d like him eating your tiny little cunt and you’d like him stuffing you with his cock, making you cum and filling it up and fixing your pretty little panties. You’d like having to sit in your own come for the rest of the school day and you’d like whimpering and rubbing your thighs together, trying not to pant as you wait out the time until you can suck his cock like a good little student and let him fuck and fill you all over again.

A grunt leaves Yamada and he arches up into his fist, bites back a groan as he fucks his hand to the thought of his most favorite little student.

He gets so close to cumming thinking about your tight little peach of a cunt and he gets so close to getting off to your sweet whimpers and mewls as the thought of turning you into his darling little slut.

He gets so close but then-

The bell.

A snarl of a sigh leaves Yamada and he huffs to himself, stuffs his cock back into his pants and wipes his hand down his jacket. He pouts as students begin to file back into the classroom, but a small smile melts it away when he alights his eyes on you.

Yamada licks his lips as he watches you sit down, as he catches a flash of striped panties as you cross your legs.

Maybe he’ll keep you after class today...he knows you wouldn’t mind some one on one time with Mister Yamada.

Lips twitching with a smirk, Yamada picks up and his chalk and begins to teach.