#Adam is a little cock whipped

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Bound To You ( Prisoner x Guard Au I gave it a name!!)

Sera sees Adam on the couch with Lucifer on his lap while drinking a smoothie.

Sera: Whatcha got there Ad?

Adam: A smoothie?

Sera: I meant the murderer in your lap.

Adam: Mom, he’s just a baby.

Sera: He’s literally killed someone

Adam: My baby 💕

Lucifer has a sip of the smoothie: 💕

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── ☆ 𓂃 ⁺ . perv dream !

MDNI. requested. library.

haechan makes you arch more as he keeps the headboard from tapping the wall, prompting his pelvis into you, filling you with each inch of his girth. you're a babbling mess and he sneers, “can't talk, baby girl?” there's fog in your vision and even so, all you can see is his face getting closer to you. his plump lips catch yours and force you to open your mouth so he can shove his tongue in a wild collision as his length bottoms out, breaking the kiss with a grunt. your head falls back, lightheaded, grip loosening on his flexed forearm next to your ribcage. he's frowning hard, cock tightly wrapped in your gummy walls, looking down on you, all covered with hickeys and mind in seventh heaven. traces of his teeth all over your tummy and thighs, and tits full with love bites. “hgh-hyuck...” you tremble and go numb under him, legs sprawling wider before he grabs your arms to keep you in place as he begins to thrust you short and sharper, knowing how close you are from your high. your eyes roll back with your body jerking closer to him and he thrills, sensing his dick start to twitch, “look at me now, sunshine.” before you both cum at the same time with a panting whine.

your ass grind against the thick bulge in jisung's pants on the car ride back home. there's not a lot of room and you end up sitting on his lap, a little too drunk and with your head spinning from how good he sits between your buttocks. taking advantage of the bumps and jerky movements of jeno at the wheel to wiggle over him, erection growing until it becomes solid and hard as rock. his head is thrown toward the back of the seat, staring at the ceiling as his adam's apple rises and falls. he comes up to you to whisper, “love, don't... you're moving too much...” you look at him slyly, “you don't really want me to stop.” you whisper back, sensing his big hands landing on your waist. you think he's going to stop you but he starts to move you more against him, grinding harder. he's so needy he starts panting in your ear as he moves you more eagerly, getting the attention of the other passengers, and he knows that, “what a pervert.” you smile when you feel his grin against your neck.

every time jeno makes you his, you wait in ecstasy for him to put it all in. both of you moaning at the full sensation that whips you, taking every inch of his cock slowly entering to adjust inside, squeezed by your walls. “fuck me, you're so tight.” you can never wait long enough for you to be ready to take it, resulting in him struggling to not lose his mind so he doesn't start hammering you right there. “relax for me, hmm... i'll make you feel good.” taking his time with you, causing the unease frown on your face to be replaced by a lash of desire when he pushes his cock inside you, “a-agh... jen,” you breathe, feeling his fingers stroking your clit, hoping that your silkiness covers his entire length and makes it easier to glide in and out of you. “yes, just like that.” available hand spreading you open to better accommodate his cock, hurting desperately to fuck you.

“harder... m-mark,” you swallow hard, “m'cumming.” your hands tousle his hair, head pulled back to the pillow due to the constant pounding of his cock entering you and opening you pretty. legs sore and blazing, and your body filled and damped with pleasure, about to collapse. “a-ah, fuck!” forcing him to take over while your mind is broken and with dense fog covering your eyes, unable to clearly see mark's tortured expression stuck to your breasts bouncing quickly from the wild motion of his thrusts. “so pretty, baby. aw, shit” open mouth and eyebrows together, with his hands on your hips, burying his nails in the soft, chubby skin, pushing your body towards, pelvis meeting his halfway, making you scream and squirm. tremors shaking your limbs and making your tits tremble under his heavy darkening gaze. “you're so hot, so good.” tongue wetting his lips before he comes and takes one in his warm mouth, hums making your mind buzz.

your fingers tangling in jaemin's silky hair as he eats you for hours. taking you into the void and throwing you back from it, your body in the middle of limbo and sanity. “hmm... so pretty, my angel.” his humming sends electricity through your body and you arch, aching. “jaem— please.” your senses have collapsed and scattered like dust throughout the room, unable to formulate coherent words, losing the train of your thoughts while you find yourself immersed in a catalytic state of extreme pleasure. slender tongue lashing your clit and teasing your slit, licking your arousal, damping all his face. you're counting stars as you scream his name. “so fucking wet. tasting so sweet.” playing with your sensitive folds, lips catching them to suck, and bite, and kiss. you're losing your mind when he sniffs your scent. nose entering the scene and pressing against the sore bulge of your clit while his mouth do wonders on your entrance, fucking you using the slim muscles of his tongue to give circles and strokes in your sensitive nerves. “you want me to fuck you hard now, baby?”

taking chenle's cock until you're both equally overwhelmed, movement becoming sloppier, kisses turning into a wet mess of tongues and lips, while you jerk on top of him after riding him to the brim. he squirms and hisses, “f-fuck!” vocals elongated in a strangled moan as you sense his hot load pouring and coating your walls in spasms as you stroke him back and forth, milking his dick 'til the last drop of cum. you hum ecstatic from hearing the squelching sound that his penis provokes when you grind and thrusts him. he sighs when it slips out due to the silkiness in your femininity wetting all his crotch and your pussy, all drenched from the pleasure. you should pull out for a while and clean it a bit and his palms take advantage of the opportunity to spread you, resting on your inner thighs as you lay back, fingers taking some of your lube to have a taste of you along with his seed, sliding out of your pussy. his thumb put it back in and stroke you provocatively as his languid and soft length falls on top of the crook of your leg, flushed with a hot pink hue. “don't say it...” he warns you before you bite your lips and ignore him, “it looks so pretty!” you whine, playing with the ring formed at the base before putting it back in, eager for feeling it grow inside again.

renjun's head pulls back and his mouth opens in awe as you make him sink into you after he's cum. “babe...” he doesn't have an ounce of sanity left in his unresponsive body that you use to ride for the third time. “just one more, please, i need you.” unable to respond immediately and let you do your thing as he tries to catch his breath from the crushing orgasm he had not so long ago, now fading into the background when he feels you clenching your walls around his sensitive cock, coated with your lust and his seed. “a-ah, i need you so much, jun.” kisses deposited on his jaw, sensing him slowly starting to grow inside you, “filling me so good, hmm...” you moan just as his hands find their way to your waist, helping you rock your pelvis harder on him. open mouth enticing yours, panting and swallowing with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, completely in the clouds and carried away by the crushing feeling of your pussy, taking him so well.

[redr0sewrites]

NNN with the ACOTAR men

🥀A/n: surprise...! sorry for not writing for a MONTH ive been doing this. whoops.

🥀Cw: smut, nsfw, vague description of genitals, switch!reader. teasing

🥀Character(s): Eris Vanserra, Lucien Vanserra, Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel x reader (seperate)

🥀divider: @chachachannah <3

🥀minors dni

Eris Vanserra:

Eris is,,,, lukewarm to the idea to say the least. why on earth would he want to not fuck you for a whole month?

probably takes a lot of pleading to get him to agree ngl, but once he does agree..... HE IS MAKING IT

definitely lasts the whole month, no questions asked

there is no way his resolve is breaking im sorry i just dont see it. no matter how hard you tease him, Eris' only response is a noncommittal "hmm," and a devilish smirk.

he's definitely giving you a taste of your own medicine too- be prepared for teasing from HIM

he'd sneak up behind you and grab your waist, whispering filthy words in your ear about what exactly he's planning to do the minute the month is over... only to pull away and "tut" smugly

he's going to be soo mean if you give up, especially if you challenged him. the teasing is fifteen times worse, and on top of that he's STILL abstaining because even if you're not making it... hes seeing this through!

hes a lovable asshole about it.

"aw, can't even go a whole month without me?"

i feel like towards the end of the month, he'd get irritable and pent up. he has a high-stress life after all, and not getting any release on his frustration can take its toll. Eris would never take it out on you, but expect him to be a little more curt and snippy than usual

once the month is done though? be PREPARED. Eris is a lot more rough and intense when he's pent up, and would be adamant about making up on lost time. you're probably not leaving your shared bedroom for AT LEAST three days. even when you both aren't fucking, he's pressing kisses up and down your body and memorizing everything he didn't get to see throughout the month

i also see him being a lot more passionate at the end of the month. he won't admit it, but he missed getting to fuck you

overall, he'd last, but he would not like it and would make it up to you

"missed me, huh?" Eris coos, sinking into your aching hole. his skin is warm, almosst burning against your own as his tip just kisses that sensitive spot inside you, providing a tantalizing sensation of pleasure.

"f'course i did," you murmur, tightening your legs around his waist. your sat in his lap, completely bare, and his hands travel to cup at your chest.

"oh really?" Eris' gaze is calculating as he presses a nipple between two lithe fingers, rolling the sensitive bud and watching you squirm. "then why did you make me wait so long, darling?"

"mnh- 'was just a game..." you whine, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as Eris slowly begins to thrust in and out. you clench around him tightly with every roll of his hips, and his free hand begins to rub your clit/cock.

"just a game? well, why don't we play a game, hm? lets see how many times i can make you cum," Eris purrs, and you nod fervently. his eyed narrow, and he paused in his ministrations.

"use your words."

you arch your back, pleading for his touch again. "please make me cum, Er..." Eris chuckles at your obedience, before returning to stroking you, increasing his pace as he did so. "whatever my darling mate desires~"

Lucien Vanserra:

Lucien would not like the idea- he'd miss you too much, and i also feel like he has a pretty high libido in and of itself

he'd do it to make you happy, but i really don't see him lasting. Lucien would make it halfway through the month MAX. you tease him once and he folds- he's very whipped for u !!!

probably lasts at least 2 weeks, but after that he really doesn't pay much mind to it

sooooo fun to tease, in my mind he's the type to be unabashedly in LOVE with his partner and isn't afraid of acting flustered when you catch him off guard. he loves seeing you in lingerie and it's probably one of the easiest things you can do to get him to give in

i also can see him teasing you too- he's very flirtatious in nature, and if he wants you, he's pulling all the stops to see if he can make you break- ESPECIALLY if he gives up and you continue trying and to last the whole month

if you don't tease him throughout the month or give him reason to give up, i think that Lucien may have a sliiightly higher chance of making it through the month- but its still not guaranteed. like i said, he has a high libido and even if he doesnt fuck you he'll probably still end up masturbating

when it comes to the end of the month be PREPARED- he is absolutely waking you up at 12:01 because he "wants you so bad". its hard to say no to him when he's being all sweet and compliant, but know that it won't last bc he will very soon turn into a MENACE. if you can still walk, then he's not done

"you're simply divine," Lucien murmurs, almost worshipful as his lips trail up your navel. with each rise and fall of your chest, his sinful mouth travels higher and higher, kissing and sucking over marks he had left from previous rounds in a wanton mix of lust and love. his eyes never leave yours, his gaze reverent and his mechanical eye whirring as he takes you in, observing you as though you might disappear.

"perfect," he whispers breathlessly, crawling above your nude form and supporting himself with a strong arm on either side of your head. your lips meet in a sickeningly sweet kiss, and he rolls his hips tantalizingly against yours.

"mngh- jus' came!" you whine, and Lucien chuckles breathlessly against your lips.

"you can give me one more, hm?"

Rhysand:

i think Rhysand is a bit of a wild card, i think he would be into the idea at first, as he loves a good competition, but after realizing what it fully entails, he'd be pouty about not getting to sleep with you for a whole month. like, do you even love him anymore???

he'd probably make it to at least 3 weeks -> the end of the month

in all seriousness though, i think whether or not he makes it depends on how much you want to make it- if you don't tease him or don't try too hard, then i can see him making it with ease, but if you turn him on? ohhh he's not letting you go without making you both lose.

i see Rhys as kind of a hornball, genuinely it doesn't take much to turn him on, but it's whether or not you do it intentionally that really gets him going. like seeing down the front of your chest on accident? sure, he's horny, but he'll get over it. you intentionally bend down in front of him in a loose shirt, or flash him as a joke? ohhh he needs you now.

PETTIEST TEASE !!!!! you think you can get away with teasing him with no repercussions? think again, because he'll make you come running to HIMMM- he's sending you nudes through the mating bond randomly throughout the day, he's flashing you, he'll wear lingerie under his suit and tell you about it inconspicuously, stuff like that

Rhys is also quite touchy, i genuinely see him being like. clingy. especially when he misses you. what he can't have in sexual intimacy throughout the month, he makes up for in physical intimacy as he is practically almost ALWAYS at your side, and demands a lot more of your attention than usual. not in a bad way, he just loves when you focus on him

when the month is over, he's actually turning into a FREAK. instead of waking you up, he invades your dream, filling it with his own dirty desires so that you wake up aaallll hot n bothered. then and only then does he give in to his own lust and fuck you senseless

you awake with a gasp, feeling a sticky heat between your legs. your cheeks flush as memories of your more than pleasant dream fill your mind, clueing you in to the reason behind your own arousal.

"i see someone had a good dream," a sensual voice purrs in your ear, and you whip around to face the violet-eyed speaker.

"this is your fault, Rhys. i know your behind that.. dream." you grumble, and he lets out a velvety laugh.

"oh, but you'll never prove it~" he teases, but your having none of it. you waste no time in pushing him down against the bed, moving to straddle him and grinding down hard.

"s-someones being forward tonight," Rhysand hisses, hips jolting upwards to meet your impatient humping.

"hah- f'course i am, its been a, a month! i swear, if you don't shut up and fuck me Rhysand i will-" your cut off with a yelp as strong arms find purchase on your waist, flipping you over so that your pinned down beneath your lover.

"be careful what you wish for, darling."

Cassian:

loves the idea of NNN in theory... hates it in execution. Cassian is probably more overconfident in his abilities to abstain from sex than he is actually capable of in reality, so he goes into NNN ready to face it head on- only to CRUMBLE by week two because he just needs to cum.

lasts 2.5 weeks TOPS.

Cassian is always packing some sort of heat, his dick is big big, and he swears he's never noticed it until now. literally everything you do gives him a ridiculous hard on- it's almost embarrassing. its a phenomenon, the more he can't have you, the more he wants you!

Cassian could probably withstand torture, but can't withstand your teasing. just a few lustful innuendos and giving him a look and he's down on his knees practically begging you to let him fuck you, just the tip, he promises he won't even cum.... (lies)

can not take teasing, but he's pretty good at teasing you- although not subtly. not subtly at all. comes up behind you and grabs your hips with two big hands, pressing his boner against your ass like,,,, hey. whispers absolute filth into your ear until he's borderline humping you, and is so caught up in the moment that he can't focus on anything (or anyone) other than you if you don't give in then your better than me fr

at the end of the month Cassian is practically in heat, he's nearly drooling with need as he shakes you awake, ready to beg politely ask you to just fuck him already...

rough hands gently cup your face, and scratchy stubble tickles your cheeks as your lover plants kisses all across your face.

"babe," Cassian murmurs, "its december." you hum, shifting slowly into the realm of consciousness and turning to look at him.

"and?" you tease, feigning innocence as Cassian pouts. "oh, fuck you," he grumbles, nuzzling his head into your neck, and you giggle.

"aw, the big strong illyrian warrior can't last a month without me?"

"f'course i can't. it's you, afterall." you feel Cassian's grin against your neck, and hum thoughtfully. one of your hands trails to his wings, rubbing gently over the sensitive membrane. Cassian lets out a strangled moan, rolling his hips desperately as he begins to grind on your thigh.

"fffuck, hun, jus' like that," he slurs, shuddering as you continue stroking is wings. "you're so perfect f'me," he mumbles, increasing his pace.

"cum for me, Cassian," you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple and feeling his breath shudder against your neck. suddenly, he pauses his motions, gently pulling your hand from his twitching wings.

"hngh- hah, not yet- wanna be inside you first."

Azriel:

i don't think Azriel would care too heavily about NNN, if you were into it he'd do it but he doesn't feel too strongly about it- however, he is quite competitive, and will take it seriously if you challenge him

Azriel is making it through the month no questions asked. i simply can not see him giving in- he loves you dearly, but nothing will stop him from winning

honestly, your probably more at risk of giving in then him- he's teasing you worse than anything you could ever do to him, only to pull away last minute and watch you squirm with arousal. you're also NOT getting away with teasing Azriel because he WILL get you back ten times worse, that is a promise

you "accidentally" brush over his crotch? what a shame, he's "accidentally" grinding on you. you moan in his ear? he's dirty talking to you in front of your entire friend group. you wear something provocative? he will take his shirt off in front of you. he WILL get you back, and it will be worse than anything u give to him

at this point he's just downright Evil with his teasing- like he's coming into YOUR room, kissing you senseless until your all hot n bothered, and then just leaving!!! Evil!!!!!

definitelt tries to piss you off and get you needy just because he thinks it's attractive- the hornier you are the happier he is !

when the month is over, he's merciless. probably edges you and then overstimulates you for LITERAL hours, still teasing you and trying to piss you off solely because he can. however, he does reach his breaking point eventually, and when he does i DOUBT you will be walking for 2-5 business days because he will be ROUGH

the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of sex invaded your senses. your own pleasured moans drown out the sound of Azriel's cock squelching in and out of your aching hole with each thrust, his breath hot and heavy on your neck. large, scarred hands find purchase on your hips, and your thighs tremble as he forces you deeper into a mating press. he holds your gaze as one hand begins to toy with your clit/cock, his calculated motions bringing you to the edge yet again.

"uh-huh, y'like that?" Azriel smirks, watching as you writhe and moan. "y'wanna cum this time baby?"

"p-please! please Az, 'm so close," your voice is cracked and embarrassingly whiny, your hips rolling against his with every thrust.

"patience, baby," he murmurs, pressing feather light kisses to the soft skin of your neck.

"you'll get your turn. i've waited a whole month, you'll let me have my fun, hm?"

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Imagine reader putting on pheromone perfume before going on a date with bf!Logan but they never made it out the door bc he got his freak on 💋💋

Godddddddd the thoughts this gave me. Explicit content under the thread. Minors dni. F!reader, P in v, unprotected sex, Logan is feral asf for his girl

He could never say not to you, no matter how much he disliked it. You could make him do anything by just batting your eyelashes at him and smiling. He had such a weak spot for you. So here he was, a nice black button-shirt replacing his usual flannel-undershirt combo. He was sighing, glancing at his watch every two minutes. You had been so adamant about going to this new restaurant that opened in town, and yet you were taking your sweet ass time.

“Darlin’, cmon you’ve been in there for like three hours.” He called out to you, impatiently tapping his fingers on his arms as he crossed them over his chest.

“You can wait two minutes Logan!” You shouted back from the bathroom as you applied the finishing touches. Your hair looked so soft and bouncy, your lips were the perfect shade of your favorite lipstick. Just one more thing.

You had bought this new perfume after your friend had told you about it, she swore it was like magic. You didn’t truly believe the pheromones in the formula would do a whole lot, but at least it smelled divine. You gave your neck two, three and four sprays, followed by your pressure points on your wrists. And with one final look of yourself in the mirror, you were happily leaving the bathroom to join your man.

Logan instantly whipped his head in the direction of the bathroom, a strange, unknown yet pleasant smell suddenly filling his nose. He scrunched up his nose in confusion as he tried to figure out just what the fuck this sudden aroma was. And then you came out of the bathroom, as pretty as ever—he thought. And then it dawned on him. That unknown smell was you. Blood rushed to his face and his heart raced as more and more of that sweet smelled filled his nose as you oh so unbothered walked up to him, a sweet smile on your face. By the time you were in front of him, his pupils were completely dilated, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he tried his best to control his primal urges.

“I’m ready.” You smiled, completely unaware of just how mad he was going over this new perfume of yours. The sweet scent mixing oh so deliciously with yours. He said nothing as he leaned down, his cheek pressing against your jaw as he took in the scent closer, straight from the source. The growl that rumbled in his throat was animalistic at best.

“Fuck dinner.” Was all he murmured into your soft skin before he was pressing you against the nearest flat surface—a wall.

You had little time to protest, with his mouth claiming yours and all. His hand reached under your dress, scrunching it up to your waist. He tugged at your panties and it took little force for the flimsy fabric to rip at the hip. Logan was unbothered by this as he ran his fingers through your slit. You were breathless, panting as you protested but you were ultimately giving into his plush lips and the delicious feeling of his fingers.

One of your legs was thrown over his shoulder, the other barely touching the floor due to his tall height as he held your by your hips. Your sweet moans were in his ear as he pressed his face into your neck, sharp canines leaving marks on the skin as he split you open with his cock. You still didn’t know what caused him to completely lose control like this. You’d expected him to end the night this way, but not before you even left out the door.

The mess of your mixed releases was dripping down your thighs, heels long forgotten somewhere on the floor. You wished you had taken pictures of your pretty makeup before it was ruined. Black residue of mascara and eyeliner stained your cheeks, your perfect lipstick stained your face, and Logan’s. And don’t even mention your hair. What a mess.

“Was it the dress?” You eventually asked in a quiet voice, your chest still heaving as you looked at him with blurry eyes. He chucked, glancing down to look at your pretty dress. It was a new one. He ultimately shook his head lightly as he gently set you down on your feet.

“It was your perfume actually.” He chuckled, pressing his nose to your jaw to give your soft skin one more inhale as he held you against him. “Is it new?”

You snorted. Well guess the pheromones did work after all. “Yeah, it has like pheromones or some shit.”

Logan pulled his face back to look at you and his eyebrows were pulled into a frown, “what now?”

“Yeah, like you know, pheromones. It’s supposed to be sexy or something.” You shrugged, pursing your lips into an innocent expression. Logan groaned.

“Fuck.” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he was hoisting you up around his waste to take you to the bathroom. “I’ll take you to that dumb restaurant tomorrow, yeah? Just couldn’t help myself.”

“You better.” You huffed playfully as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t wear that shit again. Unless you want me bend you over the nearest surface.”

You smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[koqabear]

hiii this is for the 2k event, i wanted to ask if u write hybrid!au cause yeonjun dressing up as nick wilde has got me feeling a little delusional. if u don’t completely ignore this but if u do, can i request fox yj and maybe bunny reader?

[2K Masterlist]

"Yeonjun is adamant that you’re a pretty, porcelain doll. You’re more than ready to shatter that idea and show him that you’re stronger than he thinks."

fox hybrid! yeonjun x bunny hybrid! reader // wc: 1.9K // genre: hybrid au, pwp. this is just straight filth im sorry. MDNI.

warnings dom!yeonjun, sub!mc, somnophilia (consensual), oral (f rec.) pet names (bunny, good girl), degrading, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, kitchen sex, manhandling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, aftercare kinda, girl idk i literally just dissociated when i wrote this i forget how exhausting this all is!!

Notes: the healthcare system is fucked even in fanfiction, you can’t escape. 

Every decision you’ve made throughout your relationship with Yeonjun has led to where you are now:

Face down, ass up, tears in your eyes and words muddled through the drool that spills through your lips. 

You’ve told him countless times that you’re not fragile; that the sweet, docile image he has of bunny hybrids is nothing but a sham, and that you can take anything he offers with a confident stride— and though he simply laughed in endearment and shook his head at your claims, you insisted. You insisted throughout all the sugary sweet times he made love to you, during all the moments where you felt his hands hesitate to hold you, as though he was afraid that putting pressure on your body would be enough to make you shatter. 

The words were tiring to both his and your ears at some point: the petulant whines asking for more, your pathetic attempts to try and take control and change the pace entirely— Yeonjun’s sharp, narrowed eyes that flickered at you in warning was the harshest thing you received from him— but judging by the shivers that flowed down your spine like water, your fluffy tail twitching in attention, you knew that your body only craved for more and your brain wouldn’t settle down until you got your way.

You could say that he warned you. He really did, technically, sitting you down for a serious talk about something you two never really discussed in detail. You watched with wide, slightly confused eyes as he explained to you that his heat was approaching, and that you definitely shouldn’t be around for it— when you perked up to interrupt, he merely shook his head to shut you down and continue his explanation. 

“I usually take medication, but my insurance no longer covers my usual prescription.” he told you, his ginger ears twitching in annoyance from the mere memory, “I’m taking a leave from work for it, and… I want to spend this time alone.”

“It gets intense… I don’t want to hurt you.”

A bruised ego and terribly confrontational personality was truly a god awful combination. Though you suppose it helped you for the better, considering that after a good argument with your ever-so loving and doting boyfriend, he finally gave up. 

You can remember the sight so vividly; his ruffled hair, the fluffy tail that whipped from side to side as he finally slumped back against the couch, out of breath and exhausted— his ears pinned against his head in defeat the moment he took a good look at you, in all your still fired up and energetic glory. 

He knew it was a losing battle the moment you cocked a challenging brow at him, as though begging for him to continue.

The word okay has never sounded better from your boyfriend's mouth. 

••••

That all leads you back to today. It’s been— oh, you really can’t remember. A day? Maybe two? You don’t think it matters at this point, since the only thing that fills your mind now is the feeling of being full, stuffed, and warm. 

Yeonjun gave you a chance to back out the second he opened the door for you. He spoke to you calmly, softly, nervously, watching you hop around his living room and throw your overnight bag on his couch, overjoyed to be taking such a monumental step forward in your relationship. You dismissed every slow, anxious sway of his tail as you ate dinner together, listening intently as he told you about how he’s gotten with his previous partners. 

It was too much for many of them. He gets aggressive. He gets insanely needy, it goes on for hours, even throughout the night. 

You prayed that he didn’t notice the pathetic clench of your thighs and slight arousal as he told you about his details, nodding sweetly when he asked if you were okay with doing the things he mentioned. 

You established a safeword, coddled him the moment you noticed his temperature beginning to rise, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as you murmured your goodnights. 

About six hours passed when you first felt it; you’ve always been a light sleeper, so you were doomed the second your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of restless rustling behind you. You tried your best to ignore it, your drowsy mind eager to go back to sleep, but the white noise of sheets moving around was quickly accompanied by something else— breathy, desperate gasps.

“Bunny…” Yeonjun’s raspy whine was enough to have your ear twitching slightly; more rustling, and suddenly, a scorching heat hovers behind you. “Bunny, need… need you s’bad…”

His hands are heavy on your skin, almost scorching with the way he restlessly makes his way up your shirt, groping at your tits before they slide down your stomach, feeling you up all the way down before they stop at your thighs— without warning, he presses flat against you, a hand snaking beneath your body to wrap around your stomach and pull you flush into him. He was so hard, so needy that the very feeling of your soft ass pressing against him was enough to rip out a broken sob from him.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, words that slurred together showing that he was also half-awake, probably not too aware of his actions and the way he rutted into you helplessly, “C’mon bunny, lemme use you.” 

Your ass that pressed back into him and the sleepy whine that left you was enough for him.

You can only remember drifting in and out of consciousness that night; the sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin and desperate grunts was nothing but white noise to you at that point— Yeonjun was glued to you for hours on end, fat cock thrusting harshly into your poor, abused cunt, filled with so much cum that it could only smear onto your inner thighs and his balls, leaving a mess you wouldn’t be able to clean anytime soon. 

When you woke up, you were on your back— your pussy was sore and a whine bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat, hips canting up and against Yeonjun’s face— your hands were shaky as you fisted the sheets, tears pricking your eyes as you listened to Yeonjun’s sweet nothings against your skin, leaving bites and kisses against your thighs as he promised you that he’d be quick, that he just needed to eat your sweet cunt— you’d get cleaned up nicely after. 

Yeonjun was a liar, of course— because none of his sweet promises included his burning desire to fuck you after you came, cleaning you up only to push his cock back in and fuck you right into the mattress; legs pressed against your stomach, wails leaving you as he plunged into you with abandon, frantic hands scratching down his back as you cried from the overstimulation— it only ended with him pressing deeply into you and emptying yet another load into your tired cunt. 

The semblance of normalcy that followed after didn’t last very long, either— yeah, getting carried to the shower and having him clean you up and scrub you down was nice, and sitting at the counter as you watched him make a quick breakfast was nice too, a heartwarming glimpse into a domestic future with him— but you were only able to get halfway through your meal before Yeonjun decided that he’d much rather bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there instead— moaning wantonly as he watched your trembling legs fail to keep up, buckling under his pace and forcing him to hold you up with his insane strength— and just when you thought he was getting tired, he simply flipped you on your back and laid you on the counter instead; he always did think you looked really pretty when you were totally fucked out, anyway. 

Maybe that’s when hours started blending together— he was sweet and caring when he needed to be, cleaning you up with a feather-like touch and kisses that warmed your heart— only to give you the whiplash of the century when his pupils dilated and the only thing he honed in on was you. 

You. You you you. 

His ears would press against his head and his tail would flicker dangerously, narrowed, focused eyes meeting your bleary ones with ease; you could only sit there and let him maneuver you however he liked, shivering and falling limp with each time he’d slide his cock into you, as though you finally felt complete. 

You looked so breathtaking to him— under him, over him, whatever position he suddenly found himself needing you in— teary eyes and swollen lips calling his name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for him to use your body until he got his fill.

There was something so addicting about the way you trembled from the overstimulation, sobbing and writhing yet never saying your safe word. It had Yeonjun fascinated, the guilty part of his mind berating him for trying to see how far he could take things— yet, no matter what he did or what he said, you only seemed to beg for more, like you’d been waiting for this moment for ages.

“Take it, T-take it like a good toy,” Yeonjun hissed, fingers digging into your hips as his cock battered into you ruthlessly. You merely cried and moaned, cotton tail wiggling with every drag against your walls, the soft fur coated with dried cum, “said you could handle it, right? Stupid fucking bunny— nothing but a cumdump for me, hmm?”

Your squeals and chants of yes! Yes yes yes! only spur Yeonjun on even more— his body feels as though it’s on fire, bright hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he merely pushes himself further— you can practically feel his back hover over your own, able to tell that he’s close from his faltering pace and shaky breaths that fan across your skin. 

“Want me to breed you?” he asks, though there’s no need to ask anymore if the previous loads he’s dumped into you are any indication of your answer. Yet he still does, almost like instinct; it’s much more satisfying to hear you beg for it, anyway. 

And you do— your begging is so cute, how could he ever resist? Yeonjun’s nails might break your skin with how tightly he’s holding you, teeth digging into his pouty lip as he pumps himself into you, once, twice, then empties out everything he has to offer— your back arches and your hips move back to try and glue yourself to him, crying out his name in satisfaction as he fills you for the nth time of the night. 

The way you keen out, the sight of your ears that are pinned to your head along with your tail that shivers with satisfaction is like drugs to him; he’s hopelessly addicted to you, to all of you, from your stuffed cunt that continues to suck him in to your soft voice that whimpers out at every sensation you offer him.

Such a good girl, Yeonjun thinks to himself, butterfly kisses spanning along your sweaty skin, your barely conscious form curling into him for more, how did he get so lucky?

Even after he’s given you a moment to rest, laying down with you on top of him, you still cling onto him, sighing in content as you allow him to cockwarm you, already bracing yourself for the moment he feels himself needing you again. And as you both drift into a much needed nap, Yeonjun can only find himself thinking one thing. 

Thank god for you and your argumentative nature.

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara. (part ii)

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part i.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, top!miguel, soft!miguel at times!!, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, thoughts of sex, fantasy!sex, masturbation, humping, kinda domestic idk.

notes: it's been a long time coming. 💀 i honestly was struggling to find like a plot for the second part, or just how to move forward. lmao. but i hope this turned out okay???

—never again, miguel promised himself that night. 

—it had been a few weeks since he last jerked off to your briefs. the blue undergarment that he came into were thrown somewhere under his bed, far from his reach.

—and as tempting as it was to smell you again, he mustered up the courage to leave the stained fabric alone. 

—for good.

—miguel despised what he had become.

—settling his sex life on a lone piece of fabric, it was pathetic. 

—from dusk til dawn, you participated in a triathlon of his delirious state of mind and competed for several awards that would then be mediated by miguel. 

—had it been a real competition, he would’ve been fired for exhibiting extreme favoritism because you’d win all the trophies and medals.

—a ‘helping hand’ award he would award you a few mornings ago, where he jerked off to the thought of you giving him a handjob during his lunch break.

—multiple ‘most improved’ awards for when you were able to throat his cock a little more than before.

—and another for when your ass was able to take miguel in without needing to pause or adjust for his size, even if the strain of your facial expressions told a different story.

—gagging in between moans, coughing out thick globs of spit, wincing in bittersweet pain when he pushed in, arching in complete pleasure when he pushed out.

—he loved the idea of watching and hearing you struggle because of his cock.

—though, it was only until recently when he began feeling a strong sense of guilt for portraying you in such a manner.

—it was a promotion at work that allowed his hours to be more flexible than before, and miguel utilized that to the fullest by spending every waking second with his daughter.

—and you.

—even when he came home early, he never sent you home.

—maybe it was the perfect opportunity to get one step closer into your pants.

—or maybe he wanted to get to know the babysitter that gabriella had taken an extreme liking to.

—get to know the babysitter that had somehow made miguel feel something more than simply lust.

—you hungry? you haven’t taken your eyes off of your thesis paper since i got here.

—hm...?

—that night, you’d look up at him with those bright eyes, that bright smile that latched onto miguel’s adam apple and made it hard for him to swallow. 

—it was as radiant as the first time he saw you. one wouldn’t be able to tell that you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the past few weeks.

—oh! i guess i’m a little hungry. i haven’t eaten since breakfast—

—breakfast? i told you that you could rummage through the pantries, right? you practically live here at this point.

—i know, i know! once i get in the zone, i kind of forget about everything… except for gabriella! it’s funny. as loud as her cries are, they’re kind of my savior right now.

—hm...

—it’s getting late, so i’ll just whip up something at home—

—no, stay. i’ll cook something.

—sir, you don’t have to—

—miguel’s chest swelled. that word again.

—i’m cooking. stay, or i’m firing you for wasting my ingredients.

—hey, unfair! pretty sure that’s a violation of our contract or something!

—it didn’t take long for it to become a regular occurrence.

—miguel would cook a late dinner for two, and he’d join you on the couch with a plate of what the limit of his culinary skills could whip up. 

—it wasn’t like this every day, but it was often, which was more than what miguel could ask for.

—he would use the little time he had with you to learn about you more. your interests, your background, your passions, your personality, and you’d do the same. 

—on some nights, he’d proof-read your thesis paper and provide some feedback that you would immediately take in consideration and make the changes to your paper.

—on many nights, he’d simply close your laptop and force you to take a break because as alluring as those recent eye bags were, your health was a priority.

—stay for the night. it’s late.

—i’m almost done for the night! i just have a few more—

—nope, you’ve used up all your excuses. i’m confiscating this.

—where am i even supposed to sleep?!

—and on those many nights, you’d end up sleeping on miguel’s couch despite the persistent offers of his comfier bed.

—there would be times where you two would chat into the night while the tv played in the background. 

—you’d ask each other about your day, tell stories about gabriella, bond over shared interests, fueled debates over a quality of a certain movie, until fatigue hit either you or miguel.

—usually you were the first one to fall asleep, and he would watch you silently.

—the flickering lights from the tv would accentuate your features in the night, and he never knew he could find you even more handsome.

—your complete vulnerability was enticing. 

—you would curl into the blanket he’d given you, and miguel would take the time to count the seconds it would take for you to exhale your dreams.

—the longer it was, the deeper you were into your sleep.

—it wouldn’t be until thirty exhales more that miguel would send himself to bed.

—five seconds, miguel would find himself mimicking the pattern of your breath before he drifted off into the night.

—then there would be nights where the subject matter would be more personal, more than miguel would have liked.

—does it get lonely sometimes?

—i’d be lying if i said no. not all the time, though. i have gabriella.

—huh…

—is that why you’re a complete grump all the time?

—watch it.

—i’m kidding! good thing you have me too, right?

—yeah.

—good thing i have you too… miguel sighed heavily at the empty side of his bed, staring into the darkness until the shadows from the night had forged a shape of your body.

—he closed his eyes when he felt a whisper of your lips near his, barely ghosting over his pair, and stroke himself to the possible reality of you becoming his. 

—fuck... he then lied on his stomach and began humping into the bed, against the bed sheets, and held the imagination of your body close to his own, protecting you like his life depended on it.

—i need you… miguel pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the memory of your shampoo as he polished his hips further into the bed. 

—his cock rubbed in between his body and the soft sheets as he’d imagine unsheathing himself in and out of you at a slow yet steady pace.

—because he needed to savor you.

—he would imagine how you’d respond with every thrust. 

—your words would glue to your throat because you’d be too overwhelmed by his size, by the pleasure that miguel would finally be delivering to you, by the doting hold around you, and with the aid of his hips, your words would like crystallized honey.

—miguel would push his cock into you deeper, taking in the sound of your voice into his with a warm kiss. — i— 

—you would draw out sounds from your throat until they were practically begs when miguel would pull out excruciatingly slow to tease, then a demand as he would doubt your confession by cautiously following the outline of your pucker with the tip of his cock.

— need—

—his hips would lift, then come down onto you like hail. hard and sudden as his cock would ram into your tight fill, knock your breath back into the tight of your throat.

— you— 

—you need him. 

—miguel could tell from the way you completed allowed him to invade your reserve until he was balls-deep inside of you. 

—from the way he’d pull out once more and your hole would memorize the shape of his cock, down to his thick girth. puckering to the recollection of his throbbing veins.

—and he’d be the one to bridge the puzzle pieces together as he would press himself forward and bend your legs back before slamming his cock back into you  with the delirious evocation of lust.

—you would stifle your moans into your forearm as the bed rocked to the strong rhythm of miguel’s thrusts, but he’d pull your arms away and hold your wrists above your head.

—he needed to hear you.

—hear how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

— i’m going to come—

—you’d grunt in between the heavy and sticky sounds of your skin colliding against one another, into the thick air that you and miguel had mutually forged together. 

—his other hand had been wrapped around your cock, jerking the throbbing muscle to every count of his balls bouncing off your bottom. 

—he would squeeze and stroke, your pre-cum coming down in thick drips, and he would thumb at the slippery wet slip until the pad of his thumb was layered in your thick substance.

—until his fist was covered in a glorious amount of your warm cum, inking him deep with your devotion before feeding you of your own need. 

—he would bring his hand up to you and slip two fingers inside of your mouth. your tongue would slowly roll over his cum-covered digits, sucking the bittersweetness off of him.

—it wouldn’t be long until it would be miguel’s turn. 

—miguel would continue bringing the remaining fingers up to your mouth for you to cleanse him off, and it would be enough for him to have him in shambles.

—imagining you devour your own sweet lust until all five of his fingers were polished clean awakened him to another level of pure ecstasy, and miguel groaned, rocking desperately into his bed.

—your warm hands would all over his toned body, fueling the tension in his stomach as you would prioritize the center of his abdomen.

—fuck, come in me—

—miguel would his weight onto you, his large body practically devouring you in sheer size as the heat and sweat confined you to the parameters, and he’d hold you close once more by slipping his arms around you.

—a cycle of thrusts quickened every round and you held onto him. kissing at the side of his neck. suckling at the round of his shoulder. 

—i’m coming… he muttered to himself, to no one but the wrinkled sheets beneath him, and fucked his cock harder into his bed.

—and when you heard a shudder coming from the depths of miguel’s strained throat, you licked a stripe at the center of his throat to pacify him, making your way to the plush of his lips, and kissed him at the pivot of his climax.

—miguel would exhale hard against your mouth before kissing you and spilling delirious moans into the captivity when he would begin flooding your insides with his thick and warm cum. 

—heavy ropes would ricochet off your violated inside, but miguel would press into you closer, harder, and intimately so, until your foreheads were bruised into one another.

—in occurring reality, miguel painted his bed sheets in thick layers of warmth and musk. layers of cum wetting his bed as he desperately held onto his fantasies with sensitive rolls of his hips.

—his tongue would tangle into yours, practicing a slow, sensitive waltz as his softening cock would sink deep into your hole. 

—and you would moan and suckle around him as you felt every drop of cum warm you from the inside and out, shielding you from the goosebumps that would frost your skin.

—the kiss would remain its passionate dance as you both relaxed into each other. your legs unwrapped to tangle into miguel’s, expertly lifting the blanket over your feet in the process. 

—he would hold you tighter once he broke the kiss, turning you on your side as he lied flat on his back. 

—your head would rest on his chest after pulling the remaining blanket up to your bodies and you would sigh, suddenly feeling drowsier with miguel’s warm caress aiding sleep against your back.

—for the remaining moment, he would gaze at the sheen of sweat that highlighted the flush of your skin. 

—he would listen to the beat your heart, slowly coming to its resting pace as you succumb to sleep under the spell of his doting touch.

—and he would strangely feel a need to hold you, shelter you inside of his arms because he feared something would happen to you.

—fuck.

—miguel quickly rolled back onto his back in the midst of catching his breath, the shadows that had formed the image of you unfurling into obscurity. 

—he felt his heart race, bullets rebounding off the beating surface like a drum, and he placed a hand over his chest to pacify at the sudden swell of his chest. —i think i love you.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[cryobabyy]

Cooper Adams x Fem!Reader

PART(2/5)

He was peculiarly clean— too clean to be at a hardware store past midnight. No dirt on his jeans, or janitor's name patch, or construction vest. He smelt like most men— Irish spring, sandalwood, musk, bergamot, etc. In daylight hours, you wouldn't have thought anything about his tight and fawning smile, the gallon of industrial cleaning solution, and the seven yards of vinyl tarp he slides across the counter at the end of the month. He always smiles when he pays. You smile back despite your intuition advising against it. Something about the interaction feels cold. God, you sound like your fucking father.

OR

You work the graveyard shift at a hardware store with extended hours to put you through pre-med. You meet a DILF who is definitely not The Butcher.

A pack of deer used to linger in your backyard, towards the thicket of rural Pennsylvania forest behind your childhood home. The biggest of them, a buck with massive velvety antlers and black glossy eyes, was the least afraid of you. You left a paper plate of goldfish and a pail of water out for him every afternoon, hoping that one day he’d trust you enough to eat from your palm. After weeks of looking after the wild animal, he began to inch closer and closer to you. You could make out the finer details; white eyelashes, wet snout, twitching ears. The last time you saw him was the day your father caught you with an outstretched palm full of crackers. The sound of your name cracking through the air like a whip was enough to send the startled animal back towards the brush.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous those things are?! What kind of diseases they carry?! Warts, ticks, plague, mad cow disease-”

“But they’re deer, Daddy. Not cows.”

“-And quit fuckin’ feedin’ it! You keep feedin’ it like that and he’ll come back and stick those antlers right through your chest once you stop givin’ him food. You’ll be sorry you ever gave that beast any attention! You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Come play in the front yard where I can see you.”

It wasn’t long until he began to suspect that somewhere, behind the dense line of trees, the deer was watching the two of you, waiting to spear his mighty antlers through your thin chests.

In the span of a couple of months, the lush green trees had soured to a dull brown, thick summer air had turned thin, and you learned a lot more about Cooper Adams than necessary. His supply runs became more frequent, and with every purchase came a morsel of information about his homely little life that you never asked for. He works graveyard hours at the firehouse Monday through Saturday, his wife hates it, and he’s building her a gardening shed to get on her good side. Above all else, Cooper Adams was fucking bored- so bored that your one-minute interactions stretched into five and eventually ten. 

He played football in college. His favorite band is Smashing Pumpkins. He takes his coffee black. He divulged details freely and without hesitation. The itch in the back of your mind wondered how much of it was true. 

It didn’t matter though. Your skepticism shriveled up every time he came walking in a quarter past 1am; nonchalant, neighborly, and hot. His purchases stay consistent. Tarp, staples, cleaner, light bulbs, and sometimes nails. He sets it down on the counter with a smile. 

“You again?” He cocks his head playfully.

“In the flesh.”

“Anything exciting happening tonight?”

“Nope. You?”

“Depends on how exciting you think paperwork is. I’m only fighting fires five percent of the time. The other ninety-five percent is paperwork and cats stuck in trees.” Cooper puts his big hands flat on the counter and leans forward, his wedding band clinking against the wood. You meet his gaze, the crinkle of his crow’s feet reminding you of his age. 

Your father’s mental instability held you back in more ways than one. You put off school to take care of him in his last years, you didn’t get out much, let alone have time to date. Despite your inexperience, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Cooper Adams– a man with a wife, kids, and a mortgage– was lightly flirting with you. Even worse- you didn’t hate it. It was a relief to be spoken to like a friendly acquaintance and not like the girl who grew up in the hoarder house at the dead end of Bleaker Ave. The girl whose dad sealed up his CO2 detectors and cranked his gas stove because his sickness convinced him it was the only way to prevent the government from reading his mind. 

Cooper didn’t seem to be aware of the rot in you that others could sense. If he was, he didn’t care.

“Yeah, well I’m sure your kids still think you’re a saint. Your wife too.” You assure him. He pauses, holding you prisoner with eye contact. An earnest smile slowly creeps on his face.

“Thank you. That’s a very sweet thing to say.”

Your face felt hot all of a sudden. You take the opportunity to scan his items, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing the conversation.

“Pre-med, huh?” He nods to your textbook amongst the pile of your stuff on the back counter. “Smart girl. Don’t tell me– Pediatrics? Family medicine? Am I close?” 

3 months of acquaintanceship and you never once revealed anything overtly personal to Cooper. Your father ingrained rigid rules for interacting with strangers; No last names, no addresses, no phone numbers, and everyone has bad intentions until proven otherwise. He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open to hand you his card. You catch a glimpse of the picture of his kids, and before you can pay mind to your own paranoia, you’re answering him.

“Psychiatry, actually. I want to be a psychiatrist.”

“Shit. Wow. That’s…That’s awesome. I wouldn’t have guessed-”

You cut him off, the words coming up like vomit.

“My dad, uh, he struggled a lot. I took care of him until the end, so It kinda felt right, Y’know?”

Feeling relieved, nauseous, and stupid, you quickly run his card. The printer loudly spits out the receipt. You try to pin down what possessed you to overshare so willingly, but come to no conclusion. Maybe it was his face, soft eyes, and a masculine jaw. The disarming affectation of a competent father, someone trustworthy and inherently good. Or was he truly all those things? You slide his receipt and card towards him, eyes darting around awkwardly, desperate to avoid direct contact.

“Sorry. That might have been too much too soon.” Suddenly, warmth envelopes your fingers. You look down to see Cooper’s hand over yours, and then up to see a softened expression.

“I went through something similar with my mother. You don’t have to be sorry.” He says quietly, offering a reassuring nod. When he slides his receipt and card out from under your hand, you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “It takes a certain kind of person to choose to be a solution to a problem they’ve been victimized by. The world needs more people like you.”

A couple of months ago, you were sure Cooper’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Now, thought you could see something lurking behind them– you weren’t sure what, but it made your pulse thrum uncomfortably against your neck. 

“But sure, I’m the saint for saving cats from trees and building my wife a shed so she doesn’t hate me. That checks out.” He chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. You stand there watching him throw his purchases back into the cart, blindsided by the sincerity of the fleeting moment.

“You stay safe, alright? Don’t talk to too many strangers.” He points to you with a half-serious look, snapping you out of your daze. 

“Same goes for you.”

He stops halfway out the automatic doors to mutter a curse under his breath, rummaging through his windbreaker pocket to retrieve something.

“Almost forgot, I got you a little something- Think Fast!” He tosses it to you, and you reflexively catch it.

You huff out a shocked laugh when you realize it’s a small container of mace.

“Cooper, you can’t be fucking serious.” You look up to see his satisfied smile.

“Afraid I am. Sorry, but it freaks me out that you’re still here by yourself so late when there’s a maniac on the loose out there. It’s the dad in me.” He shrugs.

You don't watch the news often, but the mention of a maniac rings a bell. You've heard whispers of scattered remains around campus and seen a headline or two.

“What are they calling him now?”

“The Butcher.”

You scoff, ignoring the fear pooling in your stomach.

“Oh, lovely. This will totally stop him from butchering me. Thanks.” 

He gives you a wink and a thumbs-up before disappearing into the parking lot. You stare at the small blue container of mace in your palm, realizing there's something written in permanent marker on the side. 

Cooper Adams

215-238-6667

Just in case

AO3

Previous chapter

AN: Hi, hope youre enjoying my unnecessary character study fic. The next chapter will have explicit content and minor violence. Just a forewarning. If you see grammar, spelling, or syntax errors no you didn't. I proofread this with 4am eyes, will proofread again in the morning lol. Enjoy, freaks! <3

[cosmiiwrites]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ without me?

.ೃ࿐ adam x fem!reader .ೃ࿐

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ summary: in which adam catches you masturbating to his voice mails cw: NSFW, fem!reader, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjobs, cussing a/n: viv please bring back my husband the kids miss him... also i feel like i kinda rushed this but fuck it we ball:3

fuck.

10:07 pm. the time was 10:07 pm, and adam still wasnt home yet. he’d been teasing you all morning before he went to his office for work, leaving you high and dry. and when he’d promised to make it up to you when he got back home from work at 9, he stood you up.

fuck it.

resting against your headboard, you scrolled through adam’s voice mails, holding the speaker to your ear as your other hand slithered its way over the fabric of your panties. you inhaled through your teeth as you felt the pads of your fingers meet the dampened cloth, rubbing featherlight circles over your arousal.

so what if you had gotten off without adam and wasnt in the mood to fuck him when he got home? it was his loss for arriving so late.

your fingers slid under the thin layer of your panties, running past your folds before dipping a finger in your aching hole. you threw your head back at the feeling. it was good; but not big enough to satisfy you like adam did. so you added another, pumping desperately as you played each voice mail, the sound of adam’s voice only spurring you on even more.

“hey babe, went to go get take out. text me what you want or im buying it all for myself,”

god, even when adam was saying the least sexiest things you could still feel yourself grow wetter at the sound of his voice.

“fuck,” you hissed, desperately bucking against your own fingers for relief. but it was clear; you couldnt get off without adam.

unbeknownst to you, adam had already arrived home, but with his voice mails on blast right next to your ear, you had failed to notice that.

hearing his own voice coming from your shared bedroom interested adam greatly.

cracking the door open, adam barely had time to react before all of his blood rushed to his cock. the sight before his was simply beautiful: you, with your legs spread open as you pumped yourself full with your fingers, his voice mails playing on full volume next to your ear with your head thrown back.

oh, adam was going to have fun with this.

“having fun without me? you wound me, baby.” adam’s voice cut through your little private session, and your phone dropped onto the pillow in surprise. instinctively, your fingers stop working against your soaked cunt. you whipped your head to the door, only to be greeted with the sight of adam lazily stroking his leaking cock.

“a-adam-“

“who told you to stop?”

your eyes widened in surprise at his blunt statement. “cmon, keep playing with that pretty pussy for me.” he licked his bottom lip, mask thrown somewhere in the room as he made his way over to the bed. "i wanna see how you take care of yourself when im not here to fuck you."

biting your lip, you continued the movements of your fingers, a soft moan of his name leaving your lips, all while staring directly at adam.

“fuck, you're so hot,” adam hissed. “so fucking wet, all because of my voice. fucking perfect.” he growled, taking his cock into his large palm and stroking at the sight of you.

“adam, please,” you whined. “what is it, baby? cant get off by yourself? need me to fill that greedy pussy of yours?” adam proposed, his tip beading with pre-cum.

you nodded vehemently, and that was all the confirmation adam needed before replacing your hand with his. skillfully, his thumb rubbed your swollen clit, pressed firmly as he traced along your syrupy folds, before slipping a finger into you. he watched in awe as it immediately coated his finger with slick. the sight went straight to his dick, which twitched in his hand.

this was much better than your smaller, slender hands. a choked gasp left your lips at his tortuous pace, your slick-covered hand immediately tending to his pulsing cock. but you were only-half focused on jerking him off, the sensation of his fingers pumping into you too overwhelming. "fuck, you can do better than that." adam chides, using his other hand to wrap around yours and squeezing, guiding you as you stroked his cock with a guttural groan. you were making a mess of his fingers, which were glistening each time they pulled out of you. pushing his ring finger in, his thumb stroked your aching clit, working twice as hard to send you over the edge. "p-please- ah! oh god, adam, dont stop," you pleaded desperately, his fingers relentless. "i wasnt going to," he replied gruffly, fingers moving intricately to work you towards your orgasm. adam began to buck into your hand, and thats when you knew he was close. the movement of his fingers grew sloppy, muttering curses under his breath.

inevitably, you felt your climax approach, thighs trembling. soon enough you were coming, walls squeezing the life out of his fingers, which were working you through your orgasm. "a-adam!" you cried. the sound of your voice moaning his name like that, was enough for adam to finish with a groan. "fu-uck," he grunted, thick ropes of cum coating your hand and his lower abdomen. adam pulled his fingers out of you slowly, practically salivating at the glistening substance that coated his skin. he slipped them easily into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as a groan erupted from his throat. you watched in awe, pupils dilated at the erotic sight. "fuck," he sighed, collapsing next to you on the bed. "so, my voice mails, huh?"

[cillivnz]

THE OTHER WOMAN [anakin skywalker]

pairing. ANAKIN SKYWALKER x JEDI!READER

trope. unrequited love, ‘the other woman’.

word count. 1.6k

warnings. 18+. f!reader, cursing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, heavy angst, rough sex, no aftercare, degradation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, size kink, tummy bulge, creampies, crying, unrequited pining, clit-play, sadism & masochism, emotionally vulnerable reader and unavailable anakin.

a/n. personal experiences inspired this. could possibly be the prologue to a series, depends on reception. single quotes ‘’ indicate telepathic communication. descriptions are not intended to offend, just to depict a state of vulnerability.

“HIT ME!” MOANED THE MASOCHIST, “NO,” SNEERED THE SADIST.

Love’s a silly little thing that’s made Saints do questionable things, so how were you expected to be any different as a Jedi with tainted ethics? Except, the sole purpose of being one— a Jedi, is to be damn near a Saint. Well, you’re near one, now.

With your face buried in his sheets, and his cock buried inside you.

“Ani— fuck,” you sighed in fulfilment.

this was home, homely; beneath him every night after a long day of you awaiting the sight of him in the Temple, and for him, distracting himself by killing all evil and bottling up all thoughts of his lost love.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that?” You flinched at the smack landing on your ass cheek. The hopes of him rubbing the supple flesh to soothe the pain went in vain.

The sole reason for the success of your “relationship” or even why Anakin agreed to your pathetic advances in the first place was because you were symbiotic, yin and yang of a very wicked balance.

HE LIKED INFLICTING PAIN, YOU LIKED BEING INFLICTED UPON.

When Padmé Amidala left the Coruscant for Naboo, abandoning her Ani with a broken heart, you volunteered to pick the pieces.

“ANAKIN, TALK TO ME,” you urged, clutching onto his onyx Jedi robes. His jaw clenched, an eyebrow irking at your audacious hand placement.

“Leave me alone,” he pushed himself away from you, but you were adamant as ever.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Your gut churned out a warning, intituition telling you you’re digging a hole that’s bound to be deeper than the bond you’ve formed with Anakin Skywalker over the decade of knowing him— from Slave to Saviour of the galaxies.

His head whipped towards you, his broad back tensing as he turned threateningly slowly towards you.

“I can,” you were unsure of what you were going to propose— hell, you were unsure of what you were even going to say.

‘I can make you forget her.’

He sneered, you squirmed.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.”

First pet name Anakin Skywalker learned to use, coincidentally, too, for you. He had heard a sleazy man on Tattooine say it to his mother. For the longest time, he had thought of it to be vulgarity, until little Skywalker used it for you in front of Obi-wan and was quick to learn that it expresses endearment, not disdain.

After ten years he calls you ‘sweetheart’, and you knew better than to blush over it, but you were flushed, anyway.

You strip yourself bare; physically and egotistically. You lay yourself bare for your first love to unravel, even if there wasn’t much to remove physically; you were laying your soul bare to him, for him.

Mere virgin, inexperienced and shielded. Jaded just from communicating with two-timers, but so, so willing to bend over backwards and break your back for Anakin Skywalker’s mercurial self and pretty face.

While he sees your naked flesh on display for him, you see the first emotion on Anakin’s face that was not indignation towards you. Desire. He desired you, but the speed at which he masked his emotions proved to you that it wasn’t half of what he felt for her.

“You have no idea what you’re setting yourself up for.” He grabbed your chin with his metallic arm, one you’ve admired for the valour that gave it to him and one you’ve shamelessly fantasised about.

One snap was all it would’ve taken for him to break you in half with that faux robotic limb, but Anakin wouldn’t do that. Not just yet.

“What makes you think you can compare to her?”

“She is the kindest, strongest, most generous and most beautiful woman in the galaxy. What makes you think you can compare?”

What really makes you think you can compare?

You’ve been selfish, cursing the entirety of their relationship, which was as one-sided as your love for him.

You’ve been impatient, reckless and impulsive, and it’s evident in your performance as a Jedi.

You can’t even fulfil your sole purpose because, by Maker, he’s clouded your mind with himself and left little room for rationality.

‘I can try,’ you think, and of course he’d read it. ‘To fill the void.’

‘Let me in, please.’

‘Please let me try.’

“Bend over, ass up, face down.”

That’s how you two started, and how you persist.

He insists on fucking you in the same position, same force and speed of his thrusts, every night.

You know better than to ask for more. Maker’s giving you more than you deserve, isn’t it? Gratitude has been a virtue of yours, so you stick to it.

Even if there are days when he doesn’t show up to your room, knock curtly thrice before barging in to find you stripped and on your knees for him, you still love him.

He’s forgiven, he’ll always be.

You take those days to forget him, to jump down the Tower instead of climbing further up the spiralling stairs of a love doomed before it blossomed.

Anakin Skywalker only brings despair with him, a fact even the Order knows now.

“An-ah!—Anakin, slow down!” You squealed, his thrusts never faltering.

He was taking out his frustration for the Maces of the Order onto you.

“Shut up and take it,” he grunted, going faster.

You were crying, a mere mess in his bed.

The tip of his cock was assaulting your g-spot, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You felt him there, too, snaking a hand down to your tummy to feel the bulge of him going in and out of your tight channel.

He rubbed your clit vigorously; the swollen bundle of nerves had been begging for his attention, which, his balls slapping against it was sufficing, but the extra heed paid had you writhing in overstimulation.

You were sobbing, softly, but loud enough for him to hear over the sound of skin-on-skin slapping and his own haggard breath.

He pulled out, making you clench around just his tip. It was like your body was trying to keep him in.

“Can’t have me stay and can’t have me go,” he said under his breath. He spread your cunt with his hands, watching your abused hole leak your juices.

He eyed you for several moments, making you self-conscious as jolt away from him. He only spreads you further apart to spit into your hole.

Your body jerked away from him, but his metallic fingers were faster in being shoved inside of you.

The cold metal felt like ice to your hot insides, the juxtaposition of a sensation sending a shiver down your arched spine.

“Oh, you like this?” His human hand cupped your mound. “Is cock too much for your little pussy to handle?” He mocked, but you sensed a tinge of amusement underlying his tone.

“You have one purpose, and you fail to meet it.” He pulled out his fingers, causing your head to snap back to look at him.

You see him seated on the bed, leisurely stroking his cock as if he has all the time in the world, no necessity for release while you ached to come undone.

‘I’ve given you more than she has.’

Anakin’s cock may be the biggest in this galaxy, but your pride’s bigger in every other.

His jaw clenched, but his cock twitched.

With one swift leap, he was on top of you— the predator atop his prey— pounced and ready to penetrate— eat you alive.

“Not a word out of you, y’hear?”

“Not. One. Word.”

He aligned the tip of his member with your tight entrance and forced his way in, fucking you dumb with merciless thrusts, just the way you wanted.

You were drooling, panting, screaming, moaning, crying, all while Anakin drove his hips into yours wordlessly.

The silence was eerie and scary, not even a grunt was sounded, and how you yearned to hear his groans of pleasure, knowing they were for you.

He then moaned, once again reading your mind with that impeccable bond of Force that Maker’s aligned your souls with, but your heart nearly dropped to your cunt when he said,

“Padmé, fuck.”

You clenched out of instinct, spinal cord taking over all senses while your brain was too weak, too fucked to react.

A normal person with self-respect would ask him to get the fuck out and never, ever come see you again, but you had ego, not the former, and the difference between the two is what’s allowing you to let him finish and go, like every other night, like a part of you would normalise this foreplay as long as you feel his touch— feel wanted by him.

When his seed tainted your walls once more, you sighed in relief. You couldn’t bear to look at him with tearful eyes.

You hear him shuffle into his robes, then silence, yet his presence was still felt.

You hear the doorknob twist, so you turn around to lie on your back, not expecting a lurking Anakin lingering by the doorframe. You peer at him through wet lashes, doe-eyes reduced to slits while you reciprocated the venom exuding out of Anakin for the first time towards him, clenching your jaw. Your chest huffed with forced respiration, drawing Anakin’s attention to your breasts.

It was then he used the force not to hear the string of curses flowing through your mind for him, but to talk to you, for the first time.

And for the first time he ever said,

‘If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t come to you.’

“Like” isn’t “love”,

But it is something—

‘—But you mean nothing to me, so your love is useless.’

‘And I won’t always be around as the other woman,’ you were going to go berserk.

But which one of you was lying, sneering sadist or moaning masochist?

main masterlist. more of Anakin. blog directory.

[starlightsuffered]

Darling, please give us a new small fic now, for my bedtime story🥺🙏

I’ll Take It All

A/n - sorry if this is late. I was tutoring for a while. I hope you can see this. This is sexual so maybe I should post another soft one tonight 🤷🏼 in case you don’t like this.

Info - hard dom, Paul dom, concubine, cnc, dub con, somnophilia, face fuck, piss kink, humping foot, aftercare, bathing, fingering, sleeping together, kinda crazy Paul, hand kink, degrading/praise,

Some humiliation kink

I was woken up harshly. I knew I should have been ready but this was the fifth night in a row. Since Paul had taken the water of life he got these urges. He was overcome with a wild dominance and just had to take.

He didn’t want Irulan to know of his dark desires and compulsions. He still did not fully trust her. Chani had left the day he declared himself emperor. He didn’t want to be weakened or distracted by his constant lust.

I had offered myself as a sort of sacrificial lamb. I was a bene gesserit who had sided with Paul’s reign. I was his concubine. It was ironic that I didn’t mind being a very fancy sex toy for him. However, Paul did lavish me with gifts and was increasingly thankful for what I let him do to me.

He especially appreciated that I had consented to his frequent somnophilic desires. He would often have dreams that troubled his mind. It would launch him into a sexual frenzy.

“On the floor bitch,” Paul snarled. I did as he said immediately.

He shoved his fingers in my mouth. I stared at him with my big doe eyes and sucked. He was cursing so fast I couldn’t make out what he said. He was yanked down his sleeping pants at the same time.

He snatched his fingers back. He didn’t cleaned his slobbery digits. Instead, he grabbed either side of my head. My mouth was still obediently open for him.

“That’s it,” he grunted in pleasure as he stuffed his huge cock deep down my throat. I did my best not to gag.

“Fucking good slut,” he groaned as he began to thrust in and out. My mouth was already drooling. A lethal smile covered his face. As I looked up at him, half hidden in shadows, he looked like a demon of hedonism.

“Sloppy princess,” he chuckled as he watched saliva fall from my mouth. He was forcing my head to bob on his dick.

“I bet that pussy is still puffy and leaky from our last round. You take it so well. You’re like a perfect little sex doll,” he ground out.

“Ohhhhh FUCK!” He was being as loud as he pleased. He tipped hid head back in bliss. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I sneakily moved my hand down to grind myself on it.

I let out a pitiful noise. I was sore from how often he’d been taken me. However, I knew he’d love to see tears prick my eyes.

“Fuck, I could use you until I wreck you,” he panted.

“Imagine it,” he said with dark sparkling eyes. “Bloated from cum, an aching pussy, just dripping with my seed and completely exhausted. No longer a human, just a used sex toy. Your nipples would be so swollen, and you’d have more bruises than skin.”

“Mmmmm,” I let out a needy sound. He smiled wider when he saw silver lining my eyes. A tear dribbled down my cheek.

“You’re doing good whore,” he gasped. Wet and euphoric sounds filled the room. Paul was grunting and growling. I nearly expected him to growl or something even more animalistic.

“Fuck, tight fucking throat. Taking my big hairy dick!” He snapped his hips as he babbled.

Without warning he whipped his cock from my mouth. I was left with swollen lips, bloodshot teary eyes, and a soaked pussy. I sniffled submissively as drool ran down my chin.

“P-Paul?” I asked.

He was ignoring me as he yanked on his cock. He was cursing again. His knees bent in pleasure and then he was cumming. He smirked disrespectfully as he covered my face in his semen. Over and over, pulse after pulse, rope after rope of cum covered me.

I felt such a mix of emotions. I was so humiliated I could cry, but so aroused I could cum. I was just his thing, his possession, and I loved it and blushed at the same time.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured as he squeezed the rest of the cum from his tip.

“S-Sir, can I please take a bath?�� I asked pitifully. He chucked me under the chin. He looked sweet for a moment, but I saw the predator underneath. He was still horny.

He jutted his foot forward. I mounted it, as I knew I had to. I did make a small protest from my swollen, sensitive, clit.

“Hump,” was all he said to me.

I began to move. It hurt, but also felt good. I let out small noises of pain with every movement. Paul wasn’t wanking, I didn’t know what was happening. He held his cock, but did no pumping.

“You’ll take whatever I give you won’t you princess?” He asked me in a deep voice.

“Yes sir,” I nodded.

“You promise it? You’re mine?”

“Yes emperor,” I swore.

With that solemn swear he began to piss. He was grunting and groaning in satisfaction as he drenched me. How did even this smell and feel good. He made me sopping. My hair, face, and sleep clothes were all wet.

“That’s my goooooood giiiiirl,” he slurred as if drunk off my submission.

Without hesitation he scooped me up. He carried me out the room. I saw the guards turn our way. I knew the smelt me and saw the Mrs so was. For some reason, this all heightened the burn in my core.

He brought me to the Offcial bathing rooms. He had his own of course but these were much more lavish. He cut off my clothes a pocket knife, promising to buy me more lavish ones.

He placed me in the warm bath. I was shocked he’d use this much water on me. Expensive and rare oils were used on me.

“You’re so good, you’re so special to me,” he whispered in my ear as he washed and then braided my hair. He was kissing my cheeks sweetly.

“Paul, please touch me,” I finally whispered. I didn’t even intend him to hear me.

“Touch you where angel?” He asked.

“Oh, um, I’m just, I’m desperate,” I moaned lightly.

“You never came did you?” He asked in a melancholy voice.

“No.”

“Let me help,” he offered lightly.

He reached down in the water. He didn’t touch my sensitive bundle. His long fingers pumped in my hole. I’d been so edged that I felt myself getting ready fast.

“I want to make you feel good,” he promised as he mouthed over my neck. He gently brushed my braid aside and some how the sweetness made me feel even more ready.

In seconds I was arching. I felt the cosmos ripple through me. I was pressed against his hand. My eyes had fluttered closed. I felt completely possessed by pleasure. The orgasm clutched me like no other. Feelings of gratification even reached my fucking teeth.

“Thank you for all you take,” he whispered to me when we were back in bed.

He was half asleep. I was sore, a bit embarrassed, but satisfied. I smiled in my dreams.

“I’ll take it all,” I whispered back.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[lazythinking]

OMG ALSO IMAGINE THIS

You and patrick are fighting and he says something very mean so you slap him in the face thinking he will loose his shit with you or something but he whimpers and just says “harder.” UGHHHH IN MY MIND HE LOVES GETTING HIT ON THE FACE

He lives for this shit. Genuinely, he does. Patrick doesn’t really want to get you genuinely mad, I don’t think he’s that much of an asshole. I imagine the argument is probably about how he treats you; I think in the early days he probably would have a tendency to sort of carry you around as a proto-trophy wife, a trophy girlfriend if you will, and as nice as it is to be paraded as the hot girlfriend, you end up feeling like he’s just undermining your own achievements and career at points. After a dinner out with his friends, you get into a fight over it; you yell at him about how tired you are of playing that role, and he yells back at you about how he doesn’t see what the big deal is, that he knows that you’re successful too, he just really likes to baby you, and so on.

Things take a turn when he succumbs to name-calling. Patrick, rashly, asks why you’re being such a bitch. You whip your head around with a loud gasp. Your jaw clenches as he looks at you blankly, heels click-clacking loudly against the ground as you furiously make your way towards him—and then, SMACK. Your brain doesn’t process it fast enough when your open palm makes contact with his face, harshly smacking against his cheek so hard his head turns around. You’re flushed red in the heat, head hot with the fire of your fury, chest heaving from the intensity of the moment as he slowly turns back to you, his hand coming up to gently graze over the red mark you’ve left on his face.

A smile creeps up on Patrick’s face. The silence is tense. Then, he speaks.

“Harder,” he says.

His tone is sort of whimpering, not sounding pained, but pleasured. You cock up an eyebrow, coming even closer to him now with an interrogating gaze. “Did that—are you horny, Patrick?” He doesn’t reply, still goofily smiling at you, but you know the answer anyway and it makes you scoff.

“You’re so—you’re such a—you’re a fucking pervert,” you spit out, coming so close to him now that the tip of your nose is almost touching his. “You’re fucking gross.”

He tilts his head up a little, sly smile still on his face, his eyes half-lidded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Is this it?” You say. “Do you get off on this?”

You place a gentle hand on his face, fingers clutching at the sides of his chin. “Do you bully girls so you can get off on them punishing you?”

Patrick chuckles at your words. He hums. “Maybe.”

You let out a bitter chuckle in response. “Close your mouth if you don’t wanna hurt yourself.”

SMACK! You strike him on the cheek, his freckled skin soon flushing deep red. SMACK! The other cheek, now. SMACK, SMACK, SLAP! You notice him start to slump as his knees buckle, his lips parting as he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back. Patrick heaves, chest rising and falling from the adrenaline as your hand smoothes over his cheeks almost lovingly.

Now you smile at him, your body pressing up against his. Your lips graze against the bruising skin as he sucks in a deep breath. “You fucking slut,” you whisper.

You slap him again, the crisp, sharp sound of it like music to your ears as it elicits a loud whine from him. He mewls, grinning as you cup the side of his face. His eyes fall down to your lips before meeting yours, and you recognise the mischievous look in them.

“Harder,” Patrick says.

[wing-ed-thing]

Ghost (Gaara x SandNymph!Reader)

Synopsis: Gaara insists that he's been dating you for about a month. Well, Kankuro and Temari haven't seen you once and are convinced you're not even real. Temari is extremely concerned.

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: SandNymph!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Humor, Fluff

Notes: I'm using "nymph" because I thought "sand spirit" or "spirit" would be confused with Shukaku, you know, Gaara's literal "sand spirit."

“A… date…?” Temari was in such disbelief over what she had just heard that she had to repeat it aloud. The lecture she had prepared about scheduling meetings died on her lips. Gaara spared a questioning glance from his paperwork, holding his pen just barely over the pages below. He held his posture completely still as he studied his sister’s expression of disbelief. Her eyebrows shot to her forehead. “You?” she blurted.

He frowned. 

“Is it that hard to believe?” Gaara returned to his work, the previously motionless pen now sailing across the page. Termari opened her mouth before closing it again, at a loss for words, as she studied the schedule nestled in her hands. The slot of time that had been sectioned off still sat there just as it had the last time she stared at it. The location was marked “rooftop.”

The note made Temari quirk her lip in pleasant surprise. She nodded to herself, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the combination of letters. Now that she thought of it, the rooftop of the Kazekage office wasn’t a terrible date location. The time would set Gaara’s date to start around sunset, making for quite the romantic atmosphere she didn’t know he had the capabilities to foresee. 

Temari glanced toward the Kazekage headpiece displayed on the wall behind Gaara’s desk, wondering if the not-so-subtle nod to his position had been intentional when he chose the setting. It was quite the power move. She couldn’t decipher whether it was too intimidating or if her little brother secretly had more charm than he let on. 

“Do you need something from me?” Gaara corralled his paperwork, leveling the pages against his desk. Temari shook her head, physically dismissing her thoughts as she brought the schedule forward to place it in front of him. She stood there and rocked on her heels, always one to make it known when she had an opinion. Gaara let out a quiet sigh and spoke in an even tone. “Yes?”

“Don’t you think the Kazekage office is a bit intimidating?” Temari hummed, glancing off to the side. She pivoted the ball of her foot on the intricately woven carpet below. Gaara’s writing stopped for a second before picking up again. 

“Considering that this is my place of employment— and that I’m the Kazekage— I would hope not.” Gaara quickly dismissed the question, much to Temari’s chagrin. “But I suppose we can afford to purchase a decorative plant or two.” 

“I meant for your date,” Temari protested. An undetectable smirk tugged at Gaara’s cheeks, tarnishing his otherwise unreadable expression. “You knew what I meant.” Gaara blinked as he pivoted in his chair to stand and retrieve a few more pressing documents. Temari perked up instantly, folding her arms as she moved around the large wooden desk. “What’s with that look?” She jabbed a finger at him. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Gaara insisted with a shake of his head. A small crease appeared above his brow. He brushed past his sister, adamant about finishing his clerical work over engaging with her.

“You didn’t say anything, but you were thinking it.” 

“Temari.”

“You put a date on your official calendar and didn’t even tell me about it?” As angry as she sounded, the gleeful inflection that whipped up the end of her sentence betrayed her. She leaned against Gaara’s desk to his left. With another subtle heave of his chest, he slowly met her eye. Her irises glinted. 

“We’ve been seeing each other for quite some time. This is nothing new.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Temari, please. If this is all—” He tapped the schedule with the back of his pen. —“I’d appreciate it if you left me to my work.” 

Temari visibly deflated and left with a huff, knowing ultimately that she had been pushing her luck. She glanced back at her brother one more time before gently closing the office door. It was time to compare notes. 

***

“It’s been maybe two months?” Kankuro took a sip of his tea with a shrug of his shoulders. Temari couldn’t help how her mouth hung open in disbelief. She stepped forward, slamming her palms on the surface of Kankuro’s glorified desk. A few papers went toppling to the floor as he visibly jumped. Liquid spilled over the side of his cup. “Probably longer?”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I thought you knew!” Kankuro raised his hands in defense, three fingers still wrapped around his beverage. He snuck another sip. “I mean, it’s the same time every week. He puts it in the calendar for fuck’s sake.” Kankuro placed his cup on a few scattered papers in front of him, moving just in time to catch a falling pile of files.

“What do you mean ‘probably’?” Kankuro randomly spread the compilation of work across the desk, all the forms and other important documents blending together in the unorganized mass. He only shrugged, clearly disinterested in the matter at hand. “Kankuro.”

“I dunno!” He shrugged again, but higher this time, sinking in his chair to pout at the clock mounted on the wall. Kankuro had hoped that he could waste the rest of the workday away in peace. The bodyguard to the Kazekage being a clearly redundant position, there was only so much ass Kankuro could kick in the comfort of an office environment. While he certainly performed other tasks, those tasks… could be done another day. “I think he gets stood up half the time anyway.”

Temari tried to instigate a conversation about Gaara’s dating life twice that day, and twice, one of her brothers attempted to get her to drop the subject by inadvertently dropping the juiciest tidbits into the conversation. Suffice it to say, neither time worked in their favor. 

Kankuro tried to turn away from Temari in his swivel chair. She rotated him back. Fury mounted in her eyes. 

“He what?” She towered over him with her 

“I don’t know that for sure,” Kankuro whined, letting his head tilt back onto the back of his chair. He kicked an ankle up onto his opposite knee, cradling it in his lap as he braced himself for Temari’s firestorm. “He just always comes downstairs alone whenever I’ve been here late. But then again—” Kankuro scratched lazily at the back of his head. —“That’s me being here late.”

“Your brother has been dating—”

—“Our brother…?—”

“Your brother has had a more successful dating life than you—”

— “Okay, uncalled for—”

— “And you don’t want to know who it is?” Temari placed her fists on her hips with a puff of her chest. She sighed, walking around him to gaze out the window, watching people trickle in and out of the office building. Only when she had her back turned did Kankuro relax. 

“‘Mari, I know you’re concerned about this, but I honestly don’t think it’s anyone.” 

Temari snapped back around, causing Kankuro to sink back into his chair. She quirked her brow. Her lip twitched downward skeptically.

“What do you mean?”

“You really think he’s actually seeing anyone?” Kankuro stressed, leaning forward. He glanced in the vague direction of Gaara’s office. Temari followed his glance in consideration. “Even if he is the Kazekage, it’s just another degree of separation from being a regular guy.”

“You think he’s making it up?” The two locked eyes simultaneously, both having the same thought but neither wanting to vocalize it. Kankuro averted his eyes guiltily.

“I wouldn’t say he’s making it up…” he trailed off. “He has us, of course. And he has pretty good interactions with most people in, like, a Kazekage kinda way…” Kankuro heaved in a deep breath. “I just think he’s, um… compensating. I’m sure he’ll tell us everything when he’s ready.”

Temari wanted to fight him on his point, but she knew that Kankuro was right.

***

The rooftop housed a small garden. Flowerpots ranging in size lined the east side. A few sturdy stands had made their way upstairs, offering a few neat displays for the pots to sit. one of the older secretaries routinely arrived to work early to maintain his menagerie of drought-hardy plants: a well-kept compilation of cacti, succulents, and desert flowers. Over quite a number of years, the old man managed to turn the dreary, cracked rooftop of the Kazekage building into a rather peaceful space. 

You were already waiting for him when Gaara arrived. The glow of the fiery-colored evening outlined your silhouette, a sunset of painted crimson surrounding you in his sights. You turned as soon as you heard the door.

Gaara stood in the doorway of the stairwell. 

Your simple, traditional robes fluttered slightly in the evening breeze. Particles of sand fell from your fingertips, leaving a rounded puddle beneath around your feet. 

But he didn’t move. Instead, Gaara leaned against the doorframe; the inside knob of the wide-open door sat under his fingertips as he stood enamored with you. You lit up at the sight of him, beckoning him over. Gaara tried to suppress the bashful smile of admiration that slowly crept onto his lips. 

He stepped forward, letting the door close behind him, and stopped short in front of it. Gaara shifted his weight to his back leg. Two neat dimples indented his cheeks as he raised his arms, holding his pointed index fingers and thumbs to make a square shape as he lined you up in his vision with the blazing sunset in the background. 

Gaara squinted one eye. You rolled yours.

“Get over here,” you protested playfully with a droop of your shoulders. Gaara’s lips tightened to form a twisted line as he snickered to himself, jogging forward to embrace you. You pressed your forehead against his.

“Have I ever told you that sunset is my favorite time of day?” Gaara said softly. You kissed the corner of his lips. 

His fingers laced through yours. With a brush of your palm, a few more grains of sand fell to the ground. You chuckled, letting a sentimental smile rest across your mouth, pulling away to lead him to the edge of the rooftop. 

But Gaara stood still, letting the tension of your pull stretch his arm and stop you mid-step. He used your momentum to pull you back into his arms, adding a spin as he did so.

“You must have missed me a lot,” you quipped as you used his leather-clad shoulder to steady yourself. Gaara shrugged with an informality surely unbecoming of a political figure as important as the Kazekage. But the soft gaze that focused back on you held nothing but genuity.

“Every time I looked upon the sand,” he hummed, finally releasing you. You cocked your head to the side, mischief already beginning to cloud your illuminated irises. 

“Every time?” you repeated with a snicker and planted your hands on your hips. “It’s a miracle you can get anything done.” 

You backed up a step, and Gaara followed. A few feet before the edge of the rooftop, you had set up a modest, woven blanket and a spread of simple, traditional foods. The two of you sat, perfectly shrouded from prying eyes by the tall cacti that grew around you. 

“Bold of you to assume anything ever gets done with all these new global alliances.” Gaara’s forehead creased with amusement as he poured the tea for both of you. You began to fix the plates. “This is a government building, after all.”

“Oh, so the Kazekage has jokes. Does Baki know? I’m sure he would be thrilled to hear you say that.” 

“I can’t say he does.”

Gaara set your tea down in front of you. The sun had lowered enough so that you could see each other clearly in the indirect light. The sky cast a golden color over the desert, and the fading beams trickled through the desert flowers that surrounded you. 

“Well, I’m glad you found some time to take a break.”

“I always have time for you.”

***

The sun had set by the time Temari finally left the office. Bright moonlight lit up the roads as she began her trek home after a long day of running papers. Homes were lit with warm lantern light, laying the path before her. Kankuro already left hours ago. 

She strode through the street. A few people milled about around her, also commuting home from work or closing up small market stalls. In a moment overtaken by thought, Temari stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to turn back toward the office building. 

The outdoor lights had been lit. She searched for Gaara’s office window, only to find it dark. Perhaps he went home at the same time Kankuro had. Given the week they’ve had, Gaara deserved some well-needed rest, Temari decided. But two figures caught her eye just as she was about to turn her back to continue her walk. 

Obscured by the tall plants on the rooftop, Temari could have easily missed them if she had been looking from any other angle. She looked to her left, then right, scanning the street for people before she stepped forward, squinting to get a better look. Temari hadn’t forgotten about Gaara’s date for a second, but she hadn’t expected it to go so late into the evening. And while she happened to see you and Gaara saying your goodbyes, she might as well see who’s dating her little brother.

But as soon as Temari began to look closer, you disappeared into a swirl of sand, and the grains blew into the breeze. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I prefer to avoid gendering readers in my work. Originally I was wondering how to talk about you in third person without having to pick a set of pronouns, but the dialogue wrote smoother than I originally even thought! It's very possible to write reader inserts without mentioning any specific third-person pronouns, it just requires some creativity, flexibility, and thought— I stand by this!

[eyesxxyou]

Puppy play w Doberman Hobie where the collar he has is actually the one you gifted him :( and he's such a good boy and your fav thing to do to him is to force him to come over and over as he humps and ruts against your thigh

Hobie Brown is such a good boy. You tell him that as he sits on your lap in just his underwear and humps your thigh with the vigor of a dog in rut. You’re a mere sheep hybrid and you have a big, bad doberman completely wrapped around your finger.

His hands are on your shoulders, bracing himself as he presses his boney hips into the meat of your thigh. He lulled his head back, exposing his collared throat to you. His Adams apple bobbed against the leather and it tightened around his untouched throat. It was so easy for his hands to roam, fingers easily finding their way into the soft curls of your hair, pulling and grasping with a sense of desperation.

His ears flicked and his tail swung back and forth so hard it was whipping his own thighs, leaving lashes against the supple skin where your full hands massaged the flesh.

The thick swell of his cock pressed into the thin fabric of his underwear, already wet from orgasm after orgasm forced upon him. He couldn't stop, wasn't allowed to, not that he wanted to. He humped your leg hard, grasping you to keep you close as he pressed himself into your softness and hoped to have some of it for himself.

“F-fuck!” He barked, almost whimpering something high and whiney. Hobie looked at you from fluttering eyes and saw you smirk at him so innocently. Your eyes, big and sheep-like, as you ask him with all the sweetness you can offer, “you gonna cum again, puppy?”

Hobie could only moan, his head lulling, eyes rolling. A little drool traced the curve of his lip before dribbling down his chin. He rutted his hips hard, lithe fingers pressing into your soft tummy. “Please, ‘m so close.” He could feel euphoria peeking over the horizon. He lie just on the cusp of his 5th climax. His cock twitched with it, a useless knot swelling on his cock as he bounces on your leg.

And when he cums in his underwear once again. You praise him just as he deserves. “Good boy. Such a good boy f’me.”

[linpunny]

Requested by @/anon: Teasing the Hantengu Clones in public (acting or trying to act innocent afterwards. Urogi and Karaku got reader whipped they don’t even try and act innocent just get straight to work)

CW: teasing, pet names, implied back shots and fucking (sekido) , slight degradation, implied dick riding (aizetsu), public dick teasing/masterbation (aizetsu ), dick sucking, exhibitionism (Urogi, Karaku) public sex, Popsicle sucking, public masterbation (f. Receiving), dry humping, thigh fucking

Dessy: my bad this took years too finish again. July was taiju month and then I ended up getting really sick near the end of the month.

Network @enchantedforest-network

Pairing: modern au Hantengu clones! X Fem!reader (no pronouns but reader has a kitty)

Sekido is frustrated, his aggravation very evident in every mannerism as he pulls you possessively into his side tightly wrapping an arm around your shoulder the entire walk home. He was silent but you could feel through the firm grasp and the way his nails dug into your skin that he was pissed and maybe you had bent down just a few too many times in public in the short little dress that was gifted to you by Karaku. maybe flashing Sekido and everyone else with curious eyes was a little too far. Yet the thrill of seeing his dark crimson eyes glaring at your shameful act to get his attention was worth it though. seeing him break character, cheeks darkening, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed dryly, corners of his lips pulling into a smirk, that was gone by the time you blinked and replaced with his usual snarl.

he pulled you into his room, foot slamming the door shut as he locked it and turned his attention back to you as he popped the button to his pants, pulling the hem of his boxers down enough for his thick cock to spring free hitting his abs with a loud smack, hand fisting the length slowly a few times as he turned his attention on you, a dangerous glint burning in his eyes.

You tried to protest, act like you didn’t do anything as you batted your lashes up at him with a fake innocent smile playing on your lips. His pointer finger lead your gaze to the bed, his command was clear and you obediently crawled on top of the sheets, bowing your head down low into the pillow, hem of the kimono bunching up on your waist as you lean on your knees, legs spread wide for Sekido as you waited.

“You want to act like a dirty bitch in public, then I’ll fuck you like the dirty bitch you are.”

Aizetsu is desperate, a dark flush spreading across the crack like birthmarks of his cheeks as his dick reacts almost instantly, feeling your hand brushing along the muscle of his thigh, squeezing the tense flesh again. How many times since the two of you had entered the cafe had you run your hand along his inner thigh,rubbing small circles into the material of his sweats, nails dragging down to the bend of his knee and then slowly scraping back up to tease him. His cock twitched, thick head dribbling sticky droplets of pre cum that stuck to the fabric of his boxers.

He was so uncomfortable brows furrowing as he swallowed back a filthy whimper, hating the way the growing tent in his sweats rubbed roughly on his sensitive length. He wanted more, he was trying so hard not to buck his hips up and knock the table over and the way you were now slowly palming his rock hard dick under the table wasn’t helping. “Thats enough. I can’t handle much more.” Aizetsu growled lowly, ocean blue eyes locking on yours with the most intense gaze that you stopped stroking him immediately He literally struck fear in you as a shiver ran down your spine watching as he pulled out enough cash to cover the tab and threw it on the table for the waiter to collect. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you in front of him, arm snaking around your waist, pulling your ass flush against his throbbing bulge to hide himself as he hurried the both of you home and straight into his room.

Once inside Aizetsu quickly spun you around until you were facing him, dark eyes roaming to your lips as his hands slid down the sides of your thighs, squeezing roughly just as you had done to him in the cafe earlier. “Jump.” he whispered hotly into your ear as he kissed up your jawline hungrily , tongue swiping at your lips, taking advantage of your open mouth as you tried to plead your innocence with him. Instead you ended up with his tongue swirling around yours, hands tugging at his messy long hair, legs wrapped around his middle as his hands sunk into the soft plush of your ass as he walked you straight into the door of his room. Your back rests on the door frame as he quickly moves your panties to the side, pulling his sweats down enough for his dick to plop out as he sank you down onto his cock in one swift movement.

Urogi is impatient but more than anything he’s amused as you steal glances and playfully throw yourself at him, making sure that your breasts rub his arm as you cling to his side. It’s cute. He really thinks you're so fucking cute when you're teasing and trying so hard to get his attention. He would give you all the attention in the world and he didn’t really care if someone else saw the attention he was giving you. His smile was wide as he looked at you with a giant fanged grin, his golden eyes brimming with joy as you once again flung yourself into him, making sure that your breasts were bouncing on the muscles of his forearm as you dragged him over to a ice cream stand at the park you were on a date at. The one thing that pushed Urogi over the edge was the way you were eagerly sucking on the popsicle he had bought you from the vendor while the two of you were walking around the park, tongue kitten licking the tip of the melted juice that dripped down the popsicle and onto your fingers, your eyes closed as you deliciously wrapped your mouth around the popsicle’s base, sucking up the sweet juices. You pulled off with a loud ‘pop’ and he couldn’t ignore the throbbing in his pants any longer.

He quickly walked you over to a secluded wooded area of the park, one he’d been to countless time when he wanted to enjoy the sounds of nature, but he wasn’t here to nature watch today. Before you could question Urogi he took the popsicle from your sticky hand and tossed it on the floor, “You’re sucha tease, why don’t you put that sweet mouth to work on my dick instead?” He cackled while firmly planting his palms on both your shoulders pushing you down until you rested on your knees, head level with his crotch, where you could now see the very noticeable outline of his hard dick straining in his joggers. You gulped looking up at him through your thick lashes as he nodded with his head cueing you to get to work, smirking with the biggest shit eating grin as your fingers quickly pulled down the band of his joggers, springing his rock hard cock free. One hand moving behind your ear, fisting your hair as he yanks hard, pulling your head back as the other hand guided his tip to your shiny syrup covered lips, prodding himself at your mouth till your lips parted, taking him deeply into your throat. He groaned, “See, doesn’t my dick taste better than that popsicle? You should have just told me that you wanted to suck on somethin’,sweetness. You suck enough and you’ll get a much sweeter treat than the popsicle.”

Karaku is cracking the biggest smile as you not so subtly grind your clothed cunt over his length as you sit in his lap, straddling him, arms circled around his neck. His hands slowly travel to your waist making sure to map out every single curve before he rests his hands on your hips pulling you down to feel just what you were doing to him. His dick was rock hard as you rolled your hips desperately chasing your orgasm. the deep bass of the music and the low lights of the club your thigh fucking Karaku in swallows the whines and moans that fall from your lips. anyone could look over and catch you, but every single person was too entranced in the beat of the music to see that you were already at the edge nails digging into Karaku’s shoulder as he guided you through your orgasm, one hand lightly rolling your hips while the other rubs your swollen clit through your bottoms.

“Cum f’me like the dirty whore you are! Show everyone how hard I can make you cum, let ‘em see how easy you are. ” He leans forward to nip the shell of your ear, tongue swiping down over your ear, and down the expanse of your neck, tip lapping up the sweat beading on your heated skin.

The moment his voice rumbled in your ear, you were done. the white hot ball that had been smoldering low in your abdomen had burst, drenching your panties with your own arousal, thighs shaking as your head fell on his shoulder. Nasty loud moans ripped through your lips as Karaku dragged you down onto the imprint of his dick, forcing you to ride out your orgasm until you were panting and in tears.

© Linpunny 2023 All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content. Do not advertise on any other social media.

[mzenins]

eren wonders if the ghastly glow from his television reflected onto his skin was bright enough for you to see how his forehead is littered in sweat, almost making a blinding shimming affect.

his hands are clammy but he already bets on your awareness of it as he subconsciously wipes his hands on his black sweatpants multiple times within the span of five minutes.

you were always so keen to pick up on his little tells and mannerisms that makes him who he is.

his breaths are shallow but caused a nervous ache in his chest with each inhale he took.

he thinks he’s being sneaky when his eyes flicker towards your figure. his adam’s apple bobs heavily once his irises land on your slightly exposed stomach that fails to be covered by your frail tank top.

his gaze lowers towards the pudge of your thighs seeping through your shorts that dangerously ride up, almost giving him a view of the stretch marks that are etched into your body.

the sight of you elicits something so thrilling inside the pit of his stomach that only bubbles with such intense heat.

it seems he isn’t as stealthy as he would pride himself to be, because your head soon whips towards his direction, “do you need something?”

your tone has powerful assertive in it but he knows you don’t have any ill intentions with your inquiry.

“uhh, no sorry.” he yelps back, turning his attention back towards the tv, already feeling the blush creeping onto his ears.

he’s quite thankful the living room is dark enough to conceal his bashfulness, however the television provided enough illumination to showcase his bulge straining against his pants.

it’s your turn to have wandering eyes, as your eyebrows quirk up at the amusing sight of eren attempting —and failing— to readjust himself.

you smirk at the thought of your boyfriend losing himself so easily just by a simple glance at you. at times you wonder what eren would do without you.

without another word you maneuver yourself into his lap to straddle him. making sure to place most of you weight onto his clothed cock, causing a choked up groan to escape from the man under you.

“why don’t you let me take of you, ‘ren. you’d like that wouldn’t you?”