September Is Suicide Prevention Month. Reblog If Your Blog Always Supports Anyone With A Mental Illness.

Oh to be atsumus pretty little sugar baby and accompany him to fancy galas and casino nights in posh high end bars and blow on the dice for his lucky rolls only to be taken home and have the money shoved in my mouth that he won as a gag

reblog if ur bi, ur not biphobic, or ur best friend is a beautiful valid bisexual

NFSW—MINORS, AGELESS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

Sae doesn't want a significant other. he wants a pet.

Sae wants you on your knees with a pretty leather o-ring collar around your throat while his smacks the leaky head of his cock on your tongue. he wants his full government name on a shiny heart-shaped tag dangling next to where he clips your leash on. he wants to ruffle your hair and coo and aww at you condescendingly when you do something a little stupid. he wants you to eat up his commands, obey his word like it's gospel—like he's your owner, your master, your salvation.

Sae doesn't just want you to look and act like his brainless dog, though—more than that, he wants you to embody it. he wants to train you into the obedient little pet you were meant to be for him, which is why he wastes no time buying a clicker and getting to work conditioning you into getting wet at the mere sound of him pressing the button. he sits on the couch with his legs spread—and the second you hear it, you're scurrying over to him to curl up at his feet because you'd never crawl up on his lap without his permission.

Sae wants to watch you grind on his shoe while you nuzzle and sniff his erection through his pants. he mumbles go ahead, baby while you look to him for permission to roll his waistband down and desperately paw and lick at his cock. he wants you to whine and beg for him while he sits back with a lazy smirk on his face and watches you get him wet; he'll cup your cheek with his hand while you lap at him with tears pooling in your glossy puppydog eyes and tell you you're so good for him. only when you're scratching at his thighs—nipping at him while he tells you to watch those teeth—and babbling please, please, please will he tug you up by your leash to sit you across his hips.

Sae wants to watch you grow even more needy while he makes you rub your slick up and down his cock—he's so mean, he'll never just fuck you how you want. you have to work for it like a good dog; you have to hump at him like an animal while he denies you before he even considers flipping you over and fucking you. but when he does, he's gonna fuck you even stupider than you already are—you're stuck in a sweet downward spiral of being molded into his little toy, so good and pliant for him, and you love every second of it.

Sae wants to rough-fuck you until you're a dumb, drooling mess. he trains you to cum on command—only on his cock—with the clicker, and plugs you up with a fluffly little tail plug when he's done, regardless of what hole he's used. he wants to see the adorable, pathetic mix of dread and lust on your face when he thumbs the clicker in public or around his friends. he wants you to give in to your most primal instincts and senses with him—wants you to trust him so fully that you let him lead you through life with a domineering hand on the back of your neck.

Sae doesn't want a significant other. he wants a pet—but that's okay, because he pavlovs you so mind-numbingly sweetly into being his braindead, cock-hungry dog; he treats you like his baby, his sweetheart, his world. so, remember your place, okay?

tagging @saetiate with luv :x

would you be scared if i told you how much i love you? i don't want to scare you away. you're everything to me. i want to be yours forever.

I love men who moan, men who whimper unashamedly in your ear. Men who sob, men who cry, men who bite your neck, your shoulder because you feel so good they can't help but drool a little, men who beg "Please baby, you feel so good", their pretty eyes crystallize, men who like to overstimulate themselves by continuing to come in and out of you, with broken grunts and a scratchy throat.

Can I be turned into a baton or an iron pipe? It's for social experiment and science.

Genuinely feel the need to post this cause at this point it’s getting out of hand.

So during the events kinktober I’ve noticed that a lot of people have been hating on dark content blogs, going as far as to anonymously harass creators to the point that they’ve had to stop posting content.

And it’s perfectly fine if you don’t like those types of blogs, you’re not obligated to at all. But to go out of your way to harass someone for what they do, even when they’ve put warnings all over their blog about how their material contains something you might not like, is just plain wrong.

It’s not okay in any sense to consistently harass people when they’ve done nothing to provoke you. And it is very easy to just scroll past something if you don’t like it, there is no need to go into someone’s blog just to belittle them for something they put genuine time and effort into. Some of these blogs have spent days, weeks, or even months of careful planning making events and taking time out of their day to respond to small asks. Even warning viewers about potentially sensitive content. They don’t need people bombarding them with hate and rude comments every 5 minutes.

I’m not even a content creator myself! I have literally no idea how much work these people must put in to do what they do. All I know is that they do it because they want to, and if that’s what they want to do, then I have no business telling them they can’t.

Other than that, I wish all you writers and creators a wonderful day, and a happy kinktober! Keep up all the good work, and I look forward to what awesome stuff you guys come up with!

Perhaps sleeping with Rindou was a mistake.

As you watch Sanzu storm off—dark eyed and fuming, you think that having Rindou take you on the table of his office wasn’t the best of ideas.

Rushing to put on your clothes, the cold air hits your skin as the pink haired man left the door wide open. But then a hand goes to grasp at your wrist.

“Rindou…” You murmur, and he’s grinning, ecstatic at the fact that Sanzu saw. The man next to you isn’t naked at all, nothing but the fly of his pants unzipped, but every other clothing of his was on. It was only you that was bare, skirt down to your knees and shirt hiked up.

“Leave him. That’s what happens when you get too nosey.” His voice is honey smooth, as per usual. With a rough undertone and a hint of amusement that he couldn’t quite conceal.

“But…”

When lips capture your own, a hand going down to once again tug off your skirt, you didn’t have it in yourself to push Rindou away.

“I don’t know why you’re putting your clothes back on.” He murmurs, it’s devilish. “Who said I was done?”

Rindou would prove then, 4 pm in the evening, on the walls of his office at the Bonten headquarters, that he was in fact—not done.

Not at all.

"I wasn't jealous before," Ran muses, a charming smile on his face, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "But I’m starting to get jealous now. What do you think, Mikey?”

It’s awkward. The tension in the room was thick, so much so that you found it hard to breathe. Everyone was here, gathered in the main meeting room of Bonten, seated at the largest, oval table imaginable. The only exception was Sanzu, who ran out earlier in a fit of rage, still missing. They had already heard all about how Sanzu barged in on you and Rindou, right in the middle of fucking. And it seems to be the hot topic of today.

“Rindou’s no threat to me.” Mikey’s voice rang like a declaration, earning everyone’s attention. He’s seated with the same emotionless expression painted on his face, with you sitting nervously on his lap. His head is buried in your neck, akin to a cat rubbing up on its owner for attention—you indulge, as you always do.

Ran legs out a laugh at his boss's answer, before shooting a look at his brother. “You hear that Rindou?”

The brother in question doesn’t acknowledge any of the things happening around him, much less the question. He’s got his eyes staring out the window and his lips in a thin line.

“Ah, he’s angry right now.” Ran points out, but Koko cuts in.

“Not as angry as Sanzu, though.” Koko’s voice was laced with much mirth, his eyes gleaming. “He's most likely on a rampage right on. Do you like anger fucking?” Koko asks you, before adding on. “I bet you could get some good stuff if you ask him right now.”

Blushing at Koko’s comment, you look down. “We don't even know where he is.” And it was true, Sanzu was missing. The meeting was supposed to have started 10 minutes ago, but the man was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t worry, he’s coming.” Kakucho, who had been quiet until now, pipes up.

“How would you know?” You asks.

“He’d never miss a meeting, especially if Mikey calls it.” His eyes flicker to the man in your arms for a second. “Give him 5 more minutes, he’ll come.”

Once again, silence falls. Nothing but the ticking of a clock could be heard as everyone sat still and waited. Mikey was almost asleep, his half lidded eyes and face buried so deeply into your neck said it all.

“Kiss me.” He asks, and he’s peeking up at you from those long lashes, pleading.

A peck on Mikey’s forehead, cheeks, and lips did the trick. He’s so spoiled—that part of him hasn’t changed. It’s one of your favorite parts.

Then, a bang. The door opens loudly and swiftly, drawing everyone’s attention, with the exclusion of Mikey’s. He was halfway to dreamland already, face buried deeply into your chest. Can he even breathe?

Sanzu stood there, blood stains staining his suit. It’s new, must’ve been considering that it wasn’t there the last you had seen him. His eyes were out of focus and blurry, a little deranged and wild. “Sorry for being late, traffic.”

With his grin, so wide and feral, you didn’t have to guess what he’s been up to. It wasn’t much traffic stopping him rather then men and drugs. But no one points it out.

“Make it a point to be on time, Sanzu.” Takiomi says bluntly, but he acts like his brother never said anything at all.

As he sits in his right seat, Sanzu's eyes remain on you the whole time. Concrete, solid—a certain emotion so strong yet you couldn’t bring a name to it. It felt almost uncomfortable to be stared at so intensely, so you advert your own gaze to anything else.

Feeling a tugging at your shirt, your eyes wander down to find a sleepy Mikey trying to pull down your bra. You know exactly what it is that he was trying to do, but before you could stop him, Mikey had already effectively pulled down the lace of fabric that cuffed your breast, his mouth attaching itself to one of your nipples.

Muffling a moan with your hands, your face turns red at the display. You were still relatively new to the idea of being shared between everyone. And by the envious looks sent Mikey’s way, some jealous, some just plain out angry, the other seemed to have a hard time learning what it meant to share too.

The men of Bonten were hard to please, and when they happened to get their hearts captured by the same person that everyone else wanted, they agreed to simply share. However, that concept was harder to grasp then any of them could ever have imagined.

As they watched Mikey suck on your breast, akin to a baby, they all simultaneously had the same thought.

“It’s my turn next.”

toji makes the sluttiest expression when he fucks you. and you know it because he mostly fucks you in mating press. you see it upclose. his brows knit together, sweat on the forehead trickling it's way down to his jawline, teeth grinding to the point where it threatens to fall off when he grunts.

but in between all of those, there's a moment where you come so hard that your pussy starts swallowing him. that is exactly when he breaks. the grinding set of teeth fall apart and his mouth is left agape to leave out the most whore-ish moan, head thrown back with his eyes squeeze shut, he feels like he could cry the way your pussy pulses around his cock.

even in all those moments, he never loses his rhythm. they just get more intense, more sexual. more aggressive. almost as if he is punishing you for making him lose his usual tough guy composure and making him moan. he is a slut at heart but if someone ever says that out loud, they'll meet death. but you are exceptional. you are allowed. it kills him that you are his weakness. that won't stop him from making an absolute mess out of you and your sweet cunt. and for that, he'll beg like a dog to you. you know it and you take advantage of it. squeezing your pussy tight so he can lose it all. that's your man. no wait. that's your manwhore.