#18+ // mdni

[sashaaababy]

jjk twitter prn links!! ft. Gojo, Nanami, Toji, Megumi, Choso

cws: G*n play, mdni, prn, size k*nk, oral, slapping, ddlg, bdsm, wax, rough s*x, gagging, choking

Gojo: Making Love<3, Playing with your tits, fingering your small cunt, what he sends you while your in class, playing with your ass, sucking on your tits, playing with his cock, sitting on daddys lap

Nanami: deeppp stretch, spanking, bad girl, spanking2, pussy slapping, spanking3, daddys girl, size diff

Toji: rough fingering, pounding you in your school uniform, muscles, g*n play, nicee and deep, slapping, g*n fucking, 3 sum ft:Gojo

Megumi: playing with your ass, fingering, pleasuring eachother, you can take it, finger gagging, sitting on his lap while he plays with your pussy

Choso: eating you out, jerking him off, your so mean to him:(, tying him up, he loves your pussy, overstimulating him

[drgnflyteabox]

poly knights 141 x fem reader, mdni 18+, infidelity, dubcon, murder/violence, breeding, gangbang, scent kink, terrible ending

Going to sleep thinking about a medieval peasant farmer reader who's married to some chump for economic reasons (marrying slightly more 'up' in the social rungs by her family)

Who, after a decree by the king, is told she must take in any returning knight journeying back from crusading if he should need shelter for a night (the fields are vast, takes a few weeks to get back)

Who, not really expecting anyone to show up, is met by four massive armour clad knights at the door... and whaddyaknow, they're looking to stay the night

You jump a little in surprise as they drop their heavy iron weaponry by the door, stepping in (they have to hunch at the doorway btw) to your modest little farmhouse asking you "where's your husband, love?"

You're too embarrassed to say he's been spending his nights schmoozing away at another woman's house, face hot with embarrassment, trying to distract them by offering them a warm meal ... "you boys must be hungry, huh? I can serve you some stew-"

Which is your mistake, really. What can they do? They have to depose your husband and take you for their own now, what with you being the perfect little wife. Can't pass an opportunity like that up.

"He hasnae even gotten ye pregnant yet, lamb?" One of them says, holding your ankles to keep your legs spread, his fat cock stuffed down your throat as the leader of the group stuffs your cunt.

"We'll fix that," he says, face tight with concentration, the hairy pooch of his belly peeking beneath his sweaty linen shirt. You're overwhelmed by the musk of them, how can you not be? Four men, fresh off battle, smelling of travel and bloodshed.

It makes your head spin.

The other two are keen to wait their turns, stuffing their bellies with the hearty stew and homemade bread you so sweetly offered.

"Best butter I've ever had," the youngest pats his albeit leaner gut, leaning back in your rickety wooden chair. His eyes are fixed to you, intense and eager.

The leader only laughs, "best cunt I've ever had."

[miniscapes333]

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

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[skyrigel]

Can't stop thinking about possessive! Sevika

She came everyday into the brothel and needed only you. The pretty little thing with eyes so soft and mouth so sweet, she fucked you like a piston. Her hands bruising into your skin despite the policy of no marks and mouth splattering filth into your ears, hot breath lingering down your flushed neck.

“Say it to me,” Sevika would pull you back to her chest, “Who do you belong to ?”

“you, always you.”

And not once have you lied. Sevika left you so soring and gaping for anyone else to take, her grunts so itched into your skin that you knew nothing more other than how to be someone who she was pleased by.

But it was your job, and Sevika wasn't back to you on time.

Madam babette brisked you off to cater other customer. Poorly pouting with no excuse left, the one of being sick was used up when Sevika wanted you in the last drop after a rough night. Ofcourse she'd pay and she must've too, but you didn't want that one to be a trade, whatsoever.

You looked up where the curtains were drawn, and the lousy customer whom you'd not even to bothered to remember the name of, removed their clothes.

“Get on your back,” Came the boring voice with enthusiasm that of a ferret. Ugh, not face to face atleast.

“Yes—” You were about to pull your hopeful dreamy gaze away from the curtain if it wasn't ripped apart in one swift motion.

Sevika stood there, heaving chest, discarded hair. Her casino arm a dribbling mess.

She looked ethereal. You swallowed.

“Get the fuck out,” She casted one glare at the whimpering customer who'd cowered behind the couch.

“And you,” You could've bet her eyes softened at your sight, “Come with me.”

Little did you know it was your last day in the brothel. Goodbye Madame Babette.

[thisisnsfw-v3]

🎁

[mourndust]

note — vampire!cait has me with a current state of brainrot, so here it is, my take in my formal gf count fagula, this contains smut so minors dni, dead dove do not eat, blood kink, pet names, cait-handling (it's a thing). english is not my first language, any mistake is none intended // my requests are open.

vampire!cait being the type of vampire that hates the intimate act of feeding from someone, avoiding it a much as she can until she can no longer resist the blood thirst and has no other choice but to surrender to her nature.

vampire!caitlyn who cannot resist you — that basic human who's fresh out of collage and is taking the job nobody wants to do. appearing in her chambers with a small notepad and a recording device to interview her since the passing of her mother cassandra.

she made you her bloodbag in no time. that very same night in which you appeared into her vision and became aware of your existence. her eyes follow you around the room and you're suddenly calling her count kiramman, too intimidated to even began to interview her.

vampire!cait who's family is rumored to be inmortal but no-one dares to say a word about it, not even you when she pressed her cold lips against the skin of your shoulder, her nose inhaling the sweet scent of the living, the sound of your heart beating, the sweat on your skin as you got nervous about the lack of space. her dark blue hair almost glows with the dim glow of the candles and you remember it so vividly it becomes a usual thought.

she's a kiramman, an you think she's used to have the things the way she wants. she has money, power, and a fucking aura that's so compelling you don't dare to ever deny her, tilting your head to the side like an offer to her only.

vampire!cait who always makes the bite so nice to receive. stealing demanding kisses that are as sharp as her long coat. makes the shadows in the room grow larger as the light leaves the space and she's surrounding you, her hands growing curious as they go past your shirt, her thick accent burning against your ear as she's preparing you, taking advantage cause hell- you were a pretty journalist so eager to know more about her, to listen, to do whatever the fuck she wants.

when she bites you, she's sure you're wet. her cool hands almost soothing the high temperatures of your body before sinking her teeth in that vein she can feel pulsating from before, filling her bucal cavity with the warm feeling of your blood, of the vitality sliding again in her cold body as she pushes you flush against her demanding mouth. it's not like the blood flow that passes through the good-sized vein in your inner tight, but it's good, so good every single time.

count!caitlyn who says you burn like the sun, taking off your shirt swiftly as the blood drips down to your chest, staining the fabric of your bra. she wastes no time in sucking on the wound, teeth-deep. her tongue swirls around the holes in your skin, and the pain is welcomed, a reminder you're alive as your fingers sink on the strands of her long hair, pulling them to ground yourself.

the vampire keeps your head to the side, fingers shoved inside your mouth as she eats — "stay still and let me have my fill. can't have you making sounds, squirming around. behave."

you're drooling as her index finger hits the back of your throat, and when it seems she had enough of your shoulder, she licks the drops that went to your chest without wasting blood, pulling down on your bra, happy even to clean up the dried rest that stained your chest.

"that's it, behave. you can take the pain" she cooes with almost an echo to her words. "you take it all so well, you're such a good pet. just let me have a bit more, i'm still hungry."

she's nothing but polite, so she waits for you to agree before actually bite you again, tearing apart the tissue of her upper chest as she holds you still cause shit — she knows you're going to move like a whiny bitch.

the count don't care about you staining her sheets, not even when her own clothes get dirty with your blood on it, making you lightheaded when she's comfortable between your legs, soothing the pain with caresses and kisses that left blood behind.

count!cait who used to pride on her self control until she needs to feed from you over and over again, making up excuses to have you there in her bed week after week. you've become a treat, and she's sure to keep you satisfied, praising on your behavior and even when you're lucky, playing with her too.

"you don't have to go to that stupid office," caitlyn says with that know-it-all smile on her face, once again hating up your work in the newspaper "you should help me. keep me full of you, close to me."

the count gets so needy she just has to have you in the middle of the night, climbing the tower of your room and sliding in while you're sleeping. her cold hands wake you up in the most gentle way to invade your warm bed, melt in your sleepy embrace as your fingers trace invisible patters over the skin of her stomach half asleep. you wake up moments later cause suddenly, you're also craving to be good for your count, giving her what she needs.

so you find a comfortable position to drown your face in between her tights and her dripping cunt, and it's all it takes to have the vampire arching her back, rubbing herself against your lips, vocally open about her pulsating need to release, how good you are following her orders around.

count!caitlyn who ends up fucking you without even feeding from you, who cannot help but crave the blood-tasting-kisses in the middle of the night just because she bite your lip so hard she forgot about the human fragility in you. the count that praises, in a rough voice, how good your fingers felt every time she let you have her way with her.

who wouldn't offer their blood too? after all, it's royalty what you're talking about.

check out my previous work pit!fighter vi.

[m00njelly2]

Pics from the other night!!! 🩷

Lmk how you like it in my asks!!!

(You can support me through the links in my pinned post!)

[nita-xoxox]

Wise

[sashaaababy]

Older Bf!Nanami HeadCannons

Cws: Age Gap, DDLG, MDNI, Daddy Kink, Size Diff, Nsfw, dacryphilia

Older Bf!Nanami who treats you like his princess, taking you to his office so you can sit on his lap while he works.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves having his pretty girl sit on his lap while he works, not keeping his hands off of you. Squeezing the plush of your thighs and peppering kisses all over your neck.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves when you squirm around bored in his lap so he can pick you up and sit you on his desk putting himself between your thighs with his arms wrapped around your waist.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves to lay you down on his desk and make love to you, putting his face up your skirt and tugging down your panties with his teeth.

Older Bf!Nanami loves the feeling of your wet squelching pussy around his cock, the size difference between the two of you being insane that it took forever to fit his girth inside of your cunt.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves when you cry, he loves when those pretty watery eyes look up at him, eyes filled with pure innocence that he loves to take away.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves watching the glossy tears stream down your face onto your lips because you feel like his cock his ripping you in half.

"F-fuck baby-, cmon be a g-good girl and h-hah- take daddy's cock"

"Cmon doll you can do it, f-fuck your so tight"

Older Bf!Nanami who feels like the blood circulation in his cock is getting cut off because of how tight your pussy is.

Older Bf!Nanami who loves to breed you, loving the feeling of pumping load after load into your small hole until its overflowing dripping onto his desk.

[starsinmylatte]

Military bf, but this time he's used his unfairly muscular arms to flip you onto your stomach, pinning you in place against the mattress so he can pull your panties to the side and nip at the tender skin just below the curve of your ass before his tongue sinks into your drooling pussy

[miniscapes333]

your FS fantasizes about you like what at night ? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 3]

👆 [PILE - 2]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE - 1

I see them lying awake, long after the world has quieted, after responsibilities have been tucked away for the night. But they can’t rest—not yet, not when their mind is full of you. They turn onto their side, exhaling sharply, one hand resting on their chest, the other gripping the sheets like they’re trying to steady themselves. But there’s no steadying this—no controlling what happens when they close their eyes and let themselves fall into you. They see you there, in the private corners of their mind, bathed in a soft glow, looking at them with that knowing gaze—the one that tells them you know exactly what you do to them. And oh, how they ache for you.

Their fantasies aren’t just about the act of having you; it’s so much deeper than that. They picture the lead-up, the slow burn of it all—how your fingers would skim over their skin, teasing, promising, never rushing. They imagine your lips ghosting over their pulse, how you’d linger just long enough to make them shiver, to make them want. It’s the way you’d push them to the edge, not just with touch, but with presence—the way you’d own the moment, make them feel like there was no one else in the world but the two of you. They crave that—the intimacy, the way your body would mold against theirs so perfectly, like you were meant to fit together. And when they let go, when they finally surrender to the thought of having you, it’s devastating. The kind of desire that leaves them breathless, heart hammering, hands flexing against the mattress like they can feel you there.

And when it’s over, when the fantasy has run its course and they’re left in the quiet aftermath, they don’t feel relief—they feel restless. Because it’s not enough. A dream of you will never be enough. They want the real thing. They want to turn over in bed and find you there, warm and waiting, your body tangled in the sheets with theirs. They want to hear your voice, your laughter, the whispered teasing that makes their pulse spike all over again. They want to wake up in the morning with you still beside them, the evidence of the night before lingering on your skin. And until that day comes? Until they can finally have you in their arms, their bed, their life? They’ll keep fantasizing, keep reaching for you in the dark, letting the thought of you pull them under, over and over again.

PILE - 2

It starts the same way every night. Restless hands, a heavy sigh, the dim glow of the night teasing the edges of their sleepless thoughts. They toss, they turn, but it’s you that keeps them up—you who lingers behind their eyelids the second they shut them. There’s something feverish about the way they crave you, something raw, untamed. It's not just about wanting you; it’s about needing you. Like a fire licking at their skin, like something that refuses to be contained. They imagine you standing in the doorway, a smirk playing at your lips, something teasing in your eyes—like you know how much you unravel them, and you enjoy every second of it.

Their fantasies don’t start slow; they don’t have the patience for slow. No, the second they let their mind slip, they’re already deep in it—your body against theirs, heat rolling between you like a storm about to break. They imagine the way you’d grab at them, the way your fingers would press into their skin with just the right amount of desperation, like you need them just as much as they need you. And gods, they would devour you. No hesitation, no second-guessing, just hands gripping, lips crashing, bodies colliding in a way that leaves no space between you. They burn for you, and in their mind, you let them consume you. Every sound you make, every shiver, every breathless plea—it pushes them further, makes them reckless. They want to ruin you, leave their mark on you so that no one—no one—could ever question who you belong to.

But then comes the part they hate. The comedown. The moment when reality settles back in, when they open their eyes and realize that the bed is still empty, that you aren’t there. The rush fades, but the ache lingers, deep and insatiable. They run a hand through their hair, stare at the ceiling, jaw tight with frustration. Because it’s not enough. It’s never enough. No matter how vivid the fantasy, no matter how hard they chase the high of you, it always ends the same way—with them wanting more. With them lying awake, restless, desperate, waiting for the day when they don’t have to imagine anymore. When they can finally reach out—and find you waiting for them in the dark.

PILE - 3

It creeps in like a whisper—soft at first, almost bearable. The thought of you. The way you tilt your head when you’re amused, the curve of your lips when you say their name just right. They try to shake it off, bury it under exhaustion, but it never works. No matter how many nights pass, how many times they try to push you away, you return like a ghost, haunting them in the most delicious, torturous way.

Tonight is no different. Their mind sways between the hunger and the ache, between the need for you and the pain of not having you. They imagine how it would be if you were there—if they could reach out and find your body against theirs, warm and real, not just some fading mirage in the dark. Their hands twitch at the thought of you beneath them, your skin soft under their touch, your breath hitching when they claim you like they’ve wanted to for so long. It’s not just about passion; it’s deeper than that. They want to erase the space between you, to take and take until there’s nothing left separating the two of you. Every kiss, every drag of their lips along your skin, would be a promise—a silent, desperate vow that this time, they won’t let you slip away.

But reality always hits like a cold rush of air. When they open their eyes, the bed is empty, their hands still searching, their body still burning with a craving that has no satisfaction. And gods, it hurts. It’s the kind of hunger that lingers in the bones, the kind that no amount of dreaming can sate. They roll onto their back, exhaling sharply, frustration thrumming in their chest. Because they know—no fantasy, no restless night, no imagined touch will ever be enough. They need you—not just in the shadows of their mind, not just in the spaces between wake and sleep, but in their arms, in their life. And until that moment comes, they will keep wanting, keep reaching, keep aching for you in the dark.

Paid readings availabe - check them out here 🫶🏾

[fragilef4wn]

Hello !! I loved your Caitlyn secretary fic it was so scrumptious omg 🫶🏽 I wanted to request mirror sex with caitvi with a hyper femme reader? Like she’s into makeup, doing her hair, cute outfits and they ruin her makeup/praise her. (I hope this makes sense lol)

g!p caitlyn x vi x hyperfem!reader - (MDNI !!!! MDNI !!!!)

“aren’t you just the prettiest girl?”

vi runs a finger over your cheek, collecting smeared lip-gloss and spit. your grip on the vanity tightens, knuckles turning white, each thrust rocking the table and spilling expensive cosmetics.

caitlyn stands behind you, hands pressed firmly on your hips, abusing your aching pussy for the past thirty minutes. she groans when you tighten around her; stilling for minute when she reaches hilt in attempt to stop herself from cumming, grasping at your bunched skirt — then continuing her languid strokes.

a sharp ache radiating from your scalp pulls you out of cockdrunk haze.

“i asked you a question,” vi says, with a handful of hair, guiding you to look at your ruined form in the mirror, “look at yourself.”

you gaze up to where vi is commanding you to, peering back at mascara stained-cheeks and previously pinned-up hair, now disheveled and cascading down face. your eyes follow the path of vi’s hand, pulling down baby-pink bra and exposing perked nipples, tits spilling from lace. she engulfs your chest with large, calloused palms; squeezing and tweaking at the sensitive peaks there.

a high-pitched whine escapes glossed lips, intertwining with caitlyn’s breathy moans as her thrusts grow increasingly sloppier, rhythm faltering,

“fuck — vi, darling, hurry up,” caitlyn slurs, and you know she’s not going to last much longer. “help her cum.”

“hang on, cait” vi tuts, not passing down the opportunity to tease both you, and caitlyn. her fingers snake down sternum, nails raking over abdomen to the slick collected around cunt — smearing it down thighs and onto caitlyn’s grinding dick.

“beg for it, pretty girl,” vi bends to meet your eyes in the mirror, wicked grin spread across her face.

you place a manicured hand over vi’s own, a quiet plea for her to touch further up. knitting your brows, and succumbing to her jests, you whimper out unintelligible babbles;

“please, please, just touch me, i need it — ngh!”

you let out a choked sob when you feel caitlyn’s sweat-coated forehead fall against your nape, forcing your hips to meet her now frenzied thrusts, the vanity scraping against the floor.

“look at my girls, so desperate,” vi coos, dipping down to circle your swollen clit. a low chuckle vibrates from deep in vi’s chest, pupils blown as you twitch and tremble at the contact.

the double-stimulation, from both caitlyn pumping into you and vi working you open, overwhelms your senses; pulse thrumming in your ears. you spasm around caitlyn’s cock still fucking into you, a white ring forming around her dick and drooling lewdly onto the floor — her muttering nothings into your ear, “oh darling - ngh - love you.”

caitlyn’s jerks finally stutter, then stop, vi following in suit. the room fills with heavy breathing, and the occasional whimper, as you and caitlyn come back to senses.

vi leans her back against your ruined vanity, bringing her slick coated fingers to lips and sucking.

“why aren’t you ready?” she chides, voice laced in irking exasperation, “we have to be at the restaurant in an hour.”

i wrote this in a very sleepy state so if it sucks that’s why.

[cutenbrattyyx]

I want a married boss who I can suck for a raise

we would have so many meetings until late 🤭

[cheeseatlantic]

hi guys im not dead everyone cheer heres some skull fucking. nghhhhh

DEEP DEVOTION

Simon had always been a man of few words, but when he wanted something, he took it. And tonight, he wanted you.

Your back was pressed against the mattress, arms pinned above your head with a single hand as Ghost loomed over you, his mask still covering his face, eyes burning with raw, unfiltered hunger. He didn’t need to say it—he needed control, needed to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

“You trust me, yeah?” His voice was gravel, roughened by desire, by the weight of a man who had spent his life in the dark.

You nodded, already breathless, already anticipating the bruises he’d leave behind.

A smirk ghosted over his lips before he shifted, knees pressing against the mattress as he adjusted his grip. His cock, heavy and flushed, tapped against your lips once—twice—before he growled, “Open.”

You did. Because disobeying him was never an option.

The first thrust was slow, teasing, but that didn’t last. Ghost was a man who lost patience quickly, and tonight, he wasn’t playing games. He pressed in deep, his thick length stretching your lips wide, his hand cupping the side of your face as he watched himself disappear down your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, thumb brushing over your cheek, feeling the way he filled you. His other hand gripped your hair, pulling just enough to send a dull ache through your scalp. “You take me so well, love.”

Your throat flexed around him, and his fingers twitched, the grip on your hair tightening as his control wavered. His hips rolled forward, slow but forceful, pushing himself deeper, until your nose brushed the fabric of his balaclava. He groaned, the sound guttural, filled with a hunger so dark and desperate it made your thighs clench.

“That’s it, doll,” he murmured, voice dangerously soft. “You love bein’ used like this, don’t you?”

Tears pricked your eyes as he set a brutal rhythm, his cock bullying its way into your throat, raw dominance radiating off of him with each thrust. You could barely think, barely breathe, but you wouldn’t stop him even if you could.

Ghost was relentless, his moans growing rougher, filthier, his grip bruising as he chased his high. His free hand wrapped around your throat, fingers flexing just enough to make your head spin, to remind you that he was in control.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice low, dangerous. “Say it.”

You tried—tried to form the words around the way he filled you, tried to tell him that you belonged to him, that you wanted this, wanted him. But all that came out was a garbled moan, and that was enough.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he buried himself as deep as he could, spilling hot and thick down your throat. He groaned your name, a low, filthy sound as his grip tightened one last time before loosening, thumb brushing against your jaw, almost gentle.

He pulled back, his cock slipping free with a sinful pop, and he watched as you gasped for breath, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“Good girl,” he murmured, fingers tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. His dark eyes flickered with something possessive, something dangerous. “Knew you’d take it like a good fuckin’ slut. Only for me, hm?”

And despite the ache in your throat, despite the way your lungs burned, you couldn’t help but smile.

Because you loved it when he got like this.

ok wow u whore i see u read the whole thing?? 🤬 its ok i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this. ur real for reading it all.

[mourndust]

hi hi hiiiii! this is my first time publishing in tumblr! english is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes, either way i've doubled checked so hope there's not many around! be kind and tell me what you think about it! reblogs and likes are always welcome. minors dni wlw content, good old finger-fuck that never fails, oral sex, spit.

it’s meaningless at first.

you don’t pay much attention to her. she’s in the corner of your eye but you’re too busy flirting, fighting your way to get a free drink since you refuse to pay for one but she’s there. you saw her fighting hours ago, and you know she’s looking.

it’s meaningless. a silent invitation that caught you off-guard cause fuck, you’re drinking a beer in peace and why the hell would anyone bug you? either way you recognize her before she’s even talking to you, a light scent of alcohol mixed up with sweat that has everything to be nasty, yet, somehow, it’s almost nice when she sits in the stool next to you.

it fills the air. surrounds you in a cloud of haze cause hell she’s good at making you pay attention, at noticing she’s there, closer.

“vi,” she says introducing herself, and it makes sense later why you’re locked up in the bathroom, why exactly you folded so fast — always so needy, so eager to please the rest—. “nice to meet you.”

she points out some shit about seeing you around in the pit-hole, how you’re always unfazed by the place, always pretty, always unavailable, and she’s getting you, caught you in her bare hands cause you don’t know why you’re letting her follow you to the bathroom like a lost puppy, but it’s good cause you want it, as soon as her magenta hues touch your bare fingers and she’s laughing, making the most amazing sound you’ve heard in a while, you’re all in.

you crave casual. can someone blame you? world’s crazy out there, and you don’t really do it commonly but man — you just want to have fun with her, commit to the strange magnetism that connects you every night to this girl. so you let her do it, let her rough hands lock the door, roam over your sides as she ends wirh the space left between you and her own body.

it’s nice. tuesdays are slow, not many people gamble around so the place is not really crowded, and it’s even refreshing when she pushes her knee between your legs like she didnt know it was fucking heaven, lifting you up to the counter as she relish on the taste of kissing you, god — her kisses are soft even when there’s a certain sloppiness lingered to them, some roughness she tries to keep in line but slips away for the moment, demanding and demanding as she got lost in the sensation, the smell of your perfume, that shampoo you liked and began using religiously.

can you blame violet too? fuck. caitlyn’s been fucking up her life since she went full weirdo mode and stop talking thanks to the thirst of revenge, and vi’s been having so much in her life lately she just need to pull the switch down in her brain, shut it off at least for twenty minutes and not depend on the amount of booze she’s lately depending on, actual human touch.

so you? you are similar to an oasis in plain dessert.

“there you go, so good for just a few kisses,” vi points out to praise the way your hips move seeking for a bit more friction, driving her insane as the fabric of your jeans rub against the black pants of the fighter—. “help me get you out of this.”

violet’s a force of nature, crawling under your skin as her bandaged hands struggle with the button of your jeans, taking a second or two to actually get you out of the thick fabric that’s only annoying her. the contact of her skin soothes the sting of pure need and she has the audacity of taking time, alluring as she places soft kisses over the crook of your neck like she’s really imprinting the curves of your body in her memories, the soft and smooth flesh that you posses, the moles and that tiny underwear that only fuels her desire to keep taking what she wants.

surely vi thrives on making you a mess, talks a lot a when your brain becomes a pile of erratic thoughts. the music is so loud outside you can hear the bass bouncing on the walls, making them shake as the air is filled by the sound of your moans, the way the fighter’s mouth sucks on your skin only to leave red marks she hopes to see on the next days in the pit.

"fuck's sake," she says looking at the slick mark on her jeans — "you made a mess on my knee-" it's noticiable when she point it out, the fabric is slightly darker on the zone and it was visible when you put some attention to it — "how are you going to fix this huh? it's your mess, your problem."

clearly she’s all bark and bite.

"talk baby, you can do it. i'm not even fucking you yet," she demands when you're too zoned out to say something. "tell me how are you going to fix the mess you made on my knee."

"don't care" you answer soon after. "i'll think of something after- please vi."

your voice is rough, raspy by the delicious sounds you make when she's spreading you open, using a hand to keep you steady over the sink as she raises your shirt from over your chest.

“after? after what?”

she kneads one of your breasts in her hand, squeezing the bare flesh before taking it in her mouth, the warm sensation spreading all over your spine: formalities are now left aside to let over that primal need take over, so you're pulling her poorly-dyed black hair closer, even when she bites and uses her tongue as a method to make the sting hurt less, moving to one breast to another — you just want her as possibly close.

and your jeans are hanging in the air holding by one leg only, black paint smeared on your tummy as her kisses now become more desperate, careless about their repercussions or what they stained as her mouth seems to follow this invisible path back to your cunt.

she's good at teasing, make you work for it, whispering praises all over your skin like she's not even close to have all that she wants with you in that hot bathroom. the fighter kneels only to be more comfortable, using her hands to spread you open, tasting you from over your underwear — only to have a taste and mainly, because the fabric there it's almost non-existent: mental kudos to you.

you've become a teenage boy at that point. driven by words and gentle touches, the flick of her tongue as she moves eagerly travelling from your aching hole to your clit, casually rubbing the tip of her nose as she delves deeper, pulling your underwear to the side when she hears you say some erratic words of praising: she needs validation.

the fighter don't have to spit, but she does it anyway, soaking up her own fingers with saliva like they aren't already soaked with your arousal, hooking up her thumb in your entrance to stretch you out, moving it back and forth in almost a cruel, sweet torture, almost making sure you're going to beg to be filled at some point, all needy and pliable only cause you need her fingers inside.

"can you lift up your leg?" vi knows it's a greedy question, but she says it anyways in hope you'll comply, and you clearly do when you're clinging in the sink, trying to not lose balance when one leg stays in the floor and the other one is holded over the fighter's shoulder, the cold leather of her jacket pressing against your tight as you rest it over her back—. "good girl, you okay there?"

the wet sounds her mouth do left you nothing but stupid, her half lidded eyes following every involuntary movement your body makes as she moves between your soaked folds: how much is going to take for you to cum all over her face? soak her lips with the prettiest lip gloss?

"vi..." she knows what you're whining for, the pleaded tone that stained your words. she's hoping to be the cure of all your aches, comply every little thing you ask for. her fingers fill your core, sucking them in as you clench around the intrusion, and fuck. fuck it's just what you needed, the way they curl all the way in, rubbing on that nice spot she wastes no time in finding.

how can a fucking hand feel this good? makes your brain melt as your hips move in search of release, lost in the lewd sounds of your cunt, the way she find a way to comfortably eat you like a regular meal, how you shake and move against her mouth and that faces. violet’s been looking at all since she decided to put her damn knees on that filthy ass floor.

she gets off by your orgasm pouring in.

fucking soaked in her pants as she helps you ride the tidal waves that pours over you, that shake your body and makes you weak in the knees, struggling to keep on your feet as vi holds you still. and oh how she loves it. loves how she made a mess out of you, how she fucked up your defenses like they were nothing, and fuck it’s so nice.

she kisses your stomach, the marks she made before now red against her teeth, tracing up a path of kisses back to your mouth, cause she simply cannot get enough, she’s ready to keep going, take more if she wasn’t in a dirty bathroom.

your breathing is still heavy as you get off the sink, vi’s hand still on your hips as she pulls you closer, stealing a kiss that in contrast, is nothing but slow and fucking hot — and you wonder, by a whole damn minute, how the fuck is she so good at everything? kissing, teasing, touching, eating pussy-

“get your pants off,” you say, looking back at the stain on her knee with crimson cheeks—. “you cannot go out looking like that.”

violet tilts her head slightly backwards as the sound of her laugh fills the bathroom walls, shaking her head in disapproval — “it’s not really necessary. kinda like having a reminder of you.”

it’s a great tuesday, yeah that’s for sure.

so it’s not weird at all when it becomes usual the rest of the week.