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recareels · 7 months ago

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compulsive consumption

character: sunday warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, messy sleepy sex, dubcon at the start (somnophilia), extremely codependent relationship, a hint of a daddy kink, size kink/size difference, a lil bit of blood, overstimulation, creampie words: 2.3k

notes: maisie said exhausted almost asleep sex with sunday and somehow, this is what transpired

It’s become a ritual at this point; something special, something sacred, a ceremony you ardently anticipate each and every night, a sumptuous way to conclude the day and enter into sleep.

Because Sunday’s work day is long, tiring and tedious, and too often are there instances where you don’t see him at all—not a flash of silver-blue hair, nor a glimpse of ivory feathers—during your waking hours.

But he always comes back to you in the deep of night, after the moon as passed its highest point in the sky, after you’ve slipped into a fitful dreamland, incomplete without its master.

This you can be sure of. This you can expect eternally, always.

He’s dead on his feet by the time he returns to the sanctuary of your shared bed, linen steeped in your scent, engulfing him in a sweet embrace the moment he burrows between the sheets.

But it’ll never compare to the real thing.

Large hands snake through the fabric, navigating it expertly, as they’ve done every single night before, as they’ll do every single night after.

You’re wearing one of those lace-trimmed silk babydolls that he loves so much, shimmery material pooling around his wrists in bunched waves as eager palms slip beneath the garment. Lithe fingers curl around your hips, nails nipping the skin in a way that’s almost tender, embedding themselves in your flesh as Sunday anchors a good grasp.

No panties—good girl.

Then he’s tugging you toward him, your limp body obeying easily, a soft noise vibrating deep in your throat. Little hands grope instinctually at the air, clawing at nothing in search for him, before you roll toward his heat, a moth to a flame, a bee to honey, an addict to their fix.

Instinctual, automatic, right.

“Sunny?”

“I’m here, darling,” he nuzzles into your cheek, ribcage expanding against your torso as he inhales, deep and hungry. A slow exhale follows, as if he’s savouring the scent, intertwined with a soft hum. “I’m here.”

No other words are spoken as he shoves at his waistband, freeing his incessantly aching cock, one palm splayed on the mattress by your shoulder, keeping him precariously hovering above you, the other curling around the base of his cock, squeezing twice.

He’s been thinking about this. He’s always thinking about this.

It’s an insatiable craving that inevitably (and predictably) begins to flare up a few hours before it’s time for him to retire; an unbearable itch birthed behind his sternum, clawing at his heart, growing, spreading, infecting each limb and organ as time ticks by so that it has enveloped his entire form in torrid yearning for you the moment he’s off the clock.

The blood in his veins prickles, surges with each step that carries him closer to his lover, almost as if it’s attempting to escape, becoming fervent at the thought of being close to you.

The only reprieve to be found is when he sinks into your sweet cunt��ill-prepared, Sunday’s desperation casting a dense haze of lust over his brain; a sick pressure pressing against the walls of his skull, rendering logic incoherent and unnecessary, reducing him to something primal and salivating.

Delicate skin stretches, strains, splits as your body opens itself up for his cock, a soft hiss inhaled through the gaps of your teeth, jaw clenching with the action.

“I know, I know, I’m almost in,” he soothes, voice already gone hoarse from the way your body swallows him down, cunt gorging itself on his cock, cute little hole fluttering around his shaft as he bottoms out, almost as if it’s striving to suck him in further, draw him in deeper.

Greedy little thing.

He always allows himself a moment to bask in the feeling—to bask in the warmth of your body wrapped around his in the most intimate, complete sense: cockhead pressed snuggly to your cervix, your thighs embracing either side of his hips, your ankles instinctually linking behind his back in a possessive grip, heels digging into the dimples cushioning the base of his spine as they try to push him in more.

A sigh decompresses his chest, his body draping itself over yours as all of the trials and tribulations of the day seep from his pores, your cunt an automatic remedy, an instant rhapsody.

You’re drooling all over him, he can feel it—eager slick that pools around the base of his cock and streams down to puddle in the folds of his balls. It’s awe-inspiring, the way your body immediately reacts to his own—you’ve already soaked him, neatly trimmed silver curls dewy and glistening as they sop up your slick, and he’s done nothing more than fill you up with his flesh.

A moan pries its way past his lips, an involuntary reaction, his hips grinding down into you, smearing your arousal across his skin in a thick glaze. It’s slippery, his pelvis gliding against your body with fluid ease, pubic bone rolling over your swollen clit in slow, hard motions.

You’re murmuring something, pleads wadded up between your molars, gurgling on the back of your tongue as you burrow your face into his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, sweet girl,” he’s pacifying, the mattress dipping as his knees dig into it, bare palms running along your thighs in a smooth, tender caress.

Nimble fingers hook behind your knees, gently unlatching your legs from around his waist and pushing them up, up, up, until your thighs are on either side of your torso and your heels are resting on his shoulders.

And then, he begins.

There’s no gradual build up, no anticipation or teasing—neither of you have the patience or restraint for that; not tonight, not ever—and his pace is ruthless right from the start, his thrusts kept quick and deep as his hips piston into you.

The harmony of wet, sticky slaps fills the room, intertwined with your little whines and his husky growls as his balls, thoroughly drenched in your essence, smack against your ass, a sordid metronome.

Sugar-stained breath wafts across your face in dense pants as his body shrouds yours again, crushing your thighs between heaving chests, the tops of your toes curling around the nape of his neck. The mattress dents further beneath his knees, strong muscles flexing as his rutting accelerates, the head of his cock grinding against your g-spot in harsh, shallow jabs.

His name oozes from your lips, thick and lazy and swathed in spit, bastardized by his motions into a single syllable, your tongue never quite able to get the word out. It sounds like you’re drowning in it, almost, a precious garble of Sun-Su-Da-ay collecting at the back of your throat, sliced to pieces by pleasure.

Lashes fluttering against drowsiness, your head raises off the pillow, yearning to string a smattering of sloppy kisses along his jawline. Sunday hums, head quirking to the side and presenting to you his stretched neck, a silent request for more.

And you obey, like the perfect little angel you are, tongue following the curve of his neck in one smooth, flat, fluid brush—from the hinge of his jaw to the protruding knob of his collarbone. It gleams in the dim light and you sigh a little, proud of your work. He looks so pretty painted in strokes of you.

Soft lips follow the path of saliva back up his throat, sealing yourself into his skin and giggling sleepily at the quivery little whine your motions evoke, Sunday nestling clumsily into your kiss.

Silver-blue tufts cling to his temples and his forehead, plastered with sweat into defined points, his sunset eyes gone dark and glimmering, framed by heavy lids drooping beneath the combined weight of exhaustion and ecstasy.

Despite the fatigue of the day, of his duties and obligations, he’s still absolutely ethereal, glowing in the radiance of your combined love, reinvigorated bit by bit with every sound he manages to tug from your throat—precious little moans and broken little gasps that he breathes in, gulps down, devours in time with the pumping of his hips.

They’re traded in exchange for sounds of his own, quiet whimpers and soft grunts exhaled onto your waiting, wanting tongue with every plunge of his cock. The appendage curls, hugging the sounds, melting them in the heat of your mouth and steeping your tastebuds with him before it darts back out again, tip lapping ravenously at his parted lips—tracing along his cupid’s bow, licking at the edges of his teeth, teasingly brushing the point of his own tongue, enticing it to come out and play.

That earns you a chuckle, something wispy and warm spilling down your throat, genuine amusement molding his mouth into an open grin.

He gives you what you want, tongue lolling out from between spit-slicked lips—an offering to you, and one you take gladly, greedily, suckling it into your scorching mouth to wreathe your own tongue around it in a slippery embrace.

A shudder ripples through his flesh, muscles seizing, and he whines low and needy in his throat, the only warning you get before he’s surging forward, front teeth clacking against your own, pinched lips splitting between sharp enamel.

Copper floods his mouth, tangy and pungent, but it does not deter him, his own tongue charging at yours with such force you nearly choke on it. You swear he’s attempting to lick down your throat, tongue jammed at the back of your mouth and sweeping across it, as if it’s desperate to venture deeper.

His breath his hot against your face, ragged pants exhaled through his nostrils beading on your cheeks and upper lip. The snapping of his hips has turned vicious, voracious, fucking into you in time with his tongue, stuffing you full from both ends.

It’s a divine sensation, being so filled up with Sunday—whole, right, one, like you were incomplete before this moment, and will be incomplete after he’s gone, something vital missing—and you keep trying to siphon him in further, throat constricting as it swallows around the tip of his tongue.

He wants to give you more, front lips mashed between sharp incisors as his mouth shoves forward, another spritz of blood—yours, his, doesn’t matter—smearing across chins, sticky and watered down with saliva, a pale pink glaze.

But his lungs are burning, huffs of breath tangling together within your conjoined mouths and scarfing down each other’s air, coughing around your lover’s exhales while oxygen slowly but steadily dissipates.

He breaks apart with a discontented whine of his own, clammy forehead resting against yours as you each gulp down air, stuttered and wheezing. Wrecked, raw little noises spill into the space between your lips, continuously shattering your attempted inhales, fucked from your chests with the wild bucking of his hips.

Rapture has been building within the both of you, brought closer and closer by each drive of his cock, each drag over that swollen spot deep within you, each teasing drift of your clit over his skin, his thrusts turned jerky and desperate as he chases that bliss, as he endeavours to deliver it to you.

“Please,” you’re begging for it, the one thing only he can give you, a single piece of heaven, of him, carved from his soul and gifted to you every night. “Please, Daddy, please, please—”

He’s nodding against you in short, swift motions, forehead grinding into your own, his tongue laving messily at your lips, as if attempting to sop up the remnants of your moans.

“I love you,” he manages to gasp out, rhythm never faltering, each ram into you harder and faster than the last. “I love you, I love you, I—a-ah—”

Hot cream fills your cunt suddenly, his cock throbbing almost viciously as it spurts endless loads of cum into you—so much, too much; your little womb can’t nearly take it all, stuffed and bulging before finally overflowing with his seed, thickly dribbling past the tight seal of his cock to gather in the ridges of the sheets, little rivers of silky white slowly seeping into crisp linen.

He always cums quick during these nightly rituals; you both do, too eager to have one another—a piece of one another—buried within you, or sheathing hard flesh and soaking into it, saturating it with your essence.

But it doesn’t stop there, because you can’t, because it is not and never will be quite enough to satisfy the ravenous craving you each harbour for one another. His hips don’t still, won’t still, not even after he’s emptied his balls into you and milked himself dry, jolting in erratic, juddering motions.

Your own pelvis rolls up in lazy ruts and sloppy circles, half-baked sounds of pleasure drivelling from the corner of your mouth with sleepy spit. Sunday has since collapsed on top of you, his weight pleasant and grounding, his breath a humid constant against your sticky skin. His palms outline the contours of your body as his hips rock, fingers sinking into plush flesh to knead and grope in appreciation. Delicate vessels snap beneath his grip, tissues flooded with navy and violet, leaving a smattering of fingerprints seared into your flesh.

You fuck until you’re both layered in sweat and slick, bodies gliding together effortlessly in smooth, wet movements, skin shimmering with one another beneath beams of silver. You fuck until your cunt is raw and puffy, chafed from the ceaseless rubbing, until you’re both sucking in hisses and jittering out strained whines from the shocks of overstimulation, routinely coursing through your frames in thick electric waves.

You fuck until you’re both too exhausted to continue, pathetic humping slowing to something tender and sporadic before it finally halts completely, Sunday still buried to the hilt, and you fall asleep stained with each other—you in his sweat and his breath and his fractured, hummed out moans; him in your cunt with evidence of your conjoined arousal glazing his pelvis and his thighs and his balls, sticky sweet like syrup.

It is the most blissful heaven either of you could ever dream of, nothing more pure than the ecstasy of entering sweet dreams submerged in one another, saturated with one another, bodies stitched together into a singular, perfect entity, breathing and being as one.

#sunday smut #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday #inky.sunday

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months ago

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Kinktober day 9

Clark Kent + sounding

I’ve spent all day drawing giraffes for class, so time to write. How has everyone’s October been so far?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Clark, or should he say Kal-El, was seated back in one of the seats in the fortress of solitude. He was naked from the waist down, legs spread open, and feet placed on the control panel in front of him as he panted audibly. Kryptonians couldn’t sweat, and at times like this Clark cursed such biology, as his body felt like it was burning up on the inside. Everything was so sensitive, so raw that even the brush of cold wind against his skin made him tense up and whimper.

This was all your fault, Clark decided. You were the one who had nicked the pink kryptonite from Bruces collection, claiming to want to study it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bruce knew immediately what you were planning to do, you two had worked together for many years so of course he would know.

Clark could barely open his eyes to look at you as you stood between his shaking thighs, the muscle inside jumping and twitching, the kryptonian wanting to snap his thighs shut from how overstimulating your very presence was. You looked borderline gleeful as you watched him, you hadn’t had to touch Clark even once, only needing to pull out the thin cylinder of pink rocks to get Clark like this.

Your lover would twitch and stifle moans when you as much as brushed the pink kryptonite against him, the upper part of his suit already stained with stripes of pre. You could never quite get over just how big kryptonians were, and how much they produced.

Part of you had thought that Clark would be a gentleman, a real country boy coming to the big city vibe. That was until you two started dating and he got more comfortable, where you learned just how much of an animal he could be.

The noise Clark made as you finally grabbed him around the base reminded you a bit of a wounded animal, his entire body so tense in his attempts not to lose control of his super strength, or any other of his powers for that matter.

He was pulsing in your hand, which wasn’t uncommon, with you having gotten used to kryptonian libido and what came with it. But the deep red, almost purple tint to his tip made you flick your tongue against your lip. It was borderline impossible to ever overstimulate Clark, and at times very difficult to even edge him, especially to this point. Normally it would take hours, but this time it hadn’t even taken you thirty minutes.

Soft warbled words in what you knew was kryptonian passed his lips, mixed with different half formed curses and begs in a thicky accented voice. You loved how his accent would melt into his words when he got like this, or when he was feeling extra affectionate, how it became so clear that yes, he may be superman of krypton, but he is just as much Clark Kent of Smallville.

His tip oozed more than you were used too as you brought the cylinder of pink kryptonite closer, his shaft so slick you almost caught your hand slipping right off it. Clarks eyes were wide, pupils blown so far you could barely see a tiny ring of blue around them, as he seemed hyperfocused on what you were doing between his legs.

“Take a deep breath, alright Clark?” you mumble, eyes boring into his flushed face, waiting for him to audibly gulp in air as his chest expanded. His eyelashes were wet and clumped together, Clarks eyes flicking up to meet your own, looking so vulnerable and needy that you almost wanted to just pull him into your arms to hold him.

“You ready?” you purr out, smiling softly at his shaky but excited nod, his Adams apple bobbing as he gulped the spit in his mouth. With a shaky inhale of your own, you slowly work the rod of kryptonite downwards, watching Clark closely to make sure everything was as it should be.

His jaw dropped, but no noise passed through his lips, his eyes flickering a few shades of red before they rolled almost all the way back. His toes were curling and muscles tensing hard enough that you would have been worried, were he a normal human. Clark so clearly wanted to arch his back and writhe around, but he stayed still for you, letting you slowly push and pull the rod of kryptonite back and forth.

The praises that passed through your lips didn’t even seem to fully register for Clark, who seemed to almost be experiencing something akin to a holy experience. What little noises that did leave him were choked and whiny, like a chew toy whose squeaker had started breaking and leaking air. He was adorable, in his own musclebound, teary eyed kinda way, in a way that only really made sense because it was Clark.

“There we go, good boy Clark” you pant out, eyes transfixed on where you could see the faintly glowing space rock sinking and rising out of him, splashes of shiny pre gushing out with every outwards pull, further soaking his lower body and your hands. The praise seemed to register enough for Clark to give a scratchy grunt, his voice breaking again as the kryptonite pressed against some spot that made him forget to swallow, a line of drool running down his chin.

It was clear from the start that he wouldn’t have lasted long. Clark never really did, since he had close to no rest period between rounds, so why would he need to hold back when he would be ready to go again in two minutes, tops. The pink kryptonite only seemed to shorten his usual time, his entire body wriggling in his seat to notify how close he was.

With a loud pant you slowly pulled the rod out, watching how shiny it was, coated in all his fluids, spurts of pre squirting out of his slit like a fountain finally getting unblocked as you pulled the kryptonite out the last bit.

The squeeze around his base and an approving noise from you was all he needed to spill all over himself, Clarks body tensing even more, if that was even possible, as he exploded like volcano. The first many times you had been shocked at how hard he would finish, and how much there was. Even now, this time there seemed to be even more, and his orgasm lasted longer than you were used too.

When Clark finally slumped into the seat, his entire torso, all the way up to his chin, was covered in thick splashes of white, when you were covered in quite a lot of it, but that you had expected. You had also expected that Clark would at least be somewhat out of it, just because you were involving a type of kryptonite. That meant you weren’t too shocked when he didn’t react as you put the kryptonite away in its lead box, to be cleaned later, or when you tried to wipe you both down the best you could.

Luckily you were used to carrying him around, so it wasn’t too hard to pick your still shivering lover up. You had a feeling he was purring, your difference in species just meant you couldn’t hear it, but the barely noticeable thrum to his throat as it rested against your shoulder was telling enough. Clark nuzzled against you with a relieved sigh, eyes shut and body limp, proving that even the man of steel could be wrung out one way or another. You just hoped you hadn’t traumatized the other residents of the fortress, even if they weren’t completely alive like Clark or you.

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fanaticsnail · 8 months ago

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It won't fit

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,200+ (600+, 500+, 1,100+, 800+)

Synopsis: The four commanders of the Victoria Punk were large in size, in every way. Eyes finally catching what goes on below their hemlines, you're brought to terms with the fact that it would be difficult to fit.

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, 18+, Smut, all individual encounters with the four commanders, Kid x reader, Killer x reader, Heat x reader, Wire x reader, afab!reader, reader has breasts, size kink, size difference, no gendered terms used, first time with each of them, swearing, cumming, oral, hurt & comfort, pet names used.

Notes: Based on an ask @bitchimasnake-sss got about a size difference for Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji. I loved it, and wanted to see it for these four big boys. Everyone should check it out!

Gazing down from your position in front of him, your eyes met with his pulsating cock. Twitching in the air, his impressive girth and length caused your heart to beat rapidly in your chest. Heat swelling your cheeks, with your jaw falling slack, all you could manage to stutter in your stupor was a small whimper.

“It won't fit.”

Eustass Kid

“Yes it will, don't be a baby about it,” he growled at you. Grabbing at your thighs, he moved you to lay down the bed and towards his large cock. His pale shaft contrasted his ruby-red tip beautifully, each angry vein expanding his cock with each pulsating rush of blood engorged and expanded.

Panic shot through you as he lined up his tip with your slit, slowly dragging the cockhead over your slick pussy and tapping your clit with it briefly.

“No, you don't understand-! It's too big, Kid! I don't think I can take it,” you managed to stutter out, your eyes wide and panicked as he stilled his motions. Immediately cocking his head in a sharp tilt, he glared down at you with his forehead lowered in a deep furrow.

“You-... You want to stop?” He asked you lowly, each syllable pronounced so there was no misinterpretation of his question, “Say the word and we'll stop, ‘kay? I'm not gonna force ‘ya to do somethin’ you don't want.” At that, he withdrew completely, sitting back on his calves with his hand pressed on his thigh.

“No-, I mean-, I don't-, I-,” you add, shaking your head and rising to a seated position, “...I want to try. Can we-... Can we go slow? I'm not used to taking anyone so large, and I'm a little-.”

"-Frightened of little ol' me?" Kid's eyes darted between yours, the crisp golden hue warming you with the crackle of mischief twinkling within.

"A little, yeah," you nod at him, your lip twitching into a quivering smile. Darting your eyes to the ground, clenching and unclenching your hands to stifle your nerves before meeting his gaze once more. Kid smirked at your confession, leaning down towards you and raising his hand to grip at the back of your head.

“Although I may look and sound it sometimes,” he smiled at you, amber eyes darting between yours, “I'm not some huge asshole that doesn't take their partner into account. I can go slow. Just breathe with me, alrigh’?”

Stooping lower, he pressed his lips to yours and slowly lined his tip up once more with your slit. Slowly rocking his hips, he stretched your pussy with his bulbous tip, prompting your eyes to snap shut and body tense in response.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, jaw, and neck, “Just breathe. I'm gonna go slow, and you'll get used to it.”

His cock slowly eased in with each soft motion, each small portion of his shaft you took, he would press a flurry of kisses against your skin. Neck, chest, collar, back up to the corner of your lips, all kisses in a bid to ease you into it and breathe with him.

Not before long, Kid was whimpering and panting, his cock being squeezed by your tight pussy causing him to almost become a blubbering mess. His entire cock had your body mold to the shape of him, each twitch and pulse from it causing you to sigh and stretch to accommodate him.

As you finally adjusted to the large stretch, Kid was already shaking with the restraint of not pistoning his cock into you repetitively. He was already so close to cumming from the feeling of it alone, he truly didn't know how long he'd last if you finally acclimatized to his entire length.

“It's okay,” you nodded, looking up at him and cupping his face, “I'm okay. You can move now.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” he groaned, immediately testing the sensation by pulling out a fifth of the way and rocking it back into you. When all it was met with was a moan from you, he did it again. More of his length came out, more of it pressed back into your pussy in a hard snap of his hips. The pace was set to a heavy rhythm of deep claps of his hips meeting yours.

“F-Fuck. Told you it'd fit.”

Massacre Soldier Killer

Letting out a soft exhale and shaking his head, he slowly drew your attention up to him by cradling your cheek in his scarred left palm.

“We don't have to do anything tonight if you’re not ready,” he gently soothed you with a softness in his voice, contrasting the hardness of his pulsating cock. “I know I'm a little bigger in comparison to you. It'll make things pinch and sting a bit. I don't want to hurt you.” He moved his thumb in soothing circles against your cheek, truly meaning every word falling freely from his lips.

Giving him a gentle shove, you push him to sit against the mattress, following your lead and reaching up to cup the backs of your thighs. Slowly crawling on top of him, he leans back and welcomes you to sit on his lap completely.

“I want to try,” you round your eyes at him, pouting and moving your knees to circle his hips. Spread in a wide straddle, you move your pussy over his tip and slowly grind your slit on him, “Can I please try? If we take it slow?” Killer nodded, thankful that the mask shrouded his face from view due to the fact he was clamping his teeth so hard on his lips to stop the whimper from escaping.

“W-We can try. I won't move a muscle until you're ready,” he stuttered, raising his arms to hold his hands beside his head: flat with palms up beside him.

Leaning forward, you line yourself up with his cock and roll your hips against it. The large tip does nothing to enter your tight heat, slipping and sliding against your slick and causing Killer’s breath to hitch. Reaching one hand down to grasp his swollen cock, you hold it steady between your legs and roll your tight core against his blunt tip more intentionally.

You wince at the sting of his pretty flushed tip entering your body, the stretch feeling immediately sore at your muscles expanding around him. Finally taking that first ridge of his tip past the largest point, you release his shaft and seek out his hands to anchor yourself against.

True to his words, the only muscle Killer uses is widening his fingertips for you to lace yours within. All gentle, all soft, all welcoming and patient: Killer grit his teeth harder to halt the urge to bounce his thick cock up into your smaller frame.

Slowly and surely, your walls relax around him and finally sheath him completely into your pussy. Walls fluttering around him, your clit grinds against his pubic hair and you whine at the contact. At that soft sound falling freely from your lips, Killer immediately unlaces his hands from yours and claps them around each of your ass cheeks, holding you firm and adjusting himself to the tight squeeze of your cunt clenching him in a vice-grip.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he huffed, groanding at his cock being strangled by your heat, “You gotta relax around me, sweet thing. Just relax, alright?” He withdrew his left hand from your ass and brought it to your face, cradling your cheek within the heel of his palm.

“I’m right here with you, okay?” he hushed you, gently thumbing over your cheek bone, “I won’t move until you’re ready.”

Heat

“Do you,” he began, halting as he sought out your attention with his eyes, “Do you want to do something else?” He reached forward, his eyes flickering over your face and searching for understanding. His expression was captured completely in his hollowed eyes, hunching his shoulders and stooping to match your height with his own.

Heat was seven feet tall, his kindness welcome, but wholly unexpected and unfamiliar. His softness in comparison to the other three leaders of the Kid Pirates was what drew you to him: that kind hand mirroring the words pouring like honey from his fire-breathing lips.

“We can calm things down, you know?” he offered, pressing his forehead against yours with a soft smile, “I can go ask Killer for some potatoes. We can make all different styles together. Fat-cut chips, hash browns, roast potatoes in duck fat, mashed potatoes as a creamy dip. If you’d rather we don’t do anything intimately, we could-.”

“-Can I try just a little bit of it?” you spoke over him, eyes peering dotingly down at his stiff cock, bobbing vibrantly in the air, “Just to see if I can? Not all of it, but... Just the tip?” You gulped back a dry mouthful of saliva glancing up through your eyelashes at the blue-haired commander.

Heat’s face dusted with a vibrant shade of red, tinting his nose and tips of his ears with the hue. He swallowed the immediate “yes,” he so desperately wanted to bark out at you, focussing more on the serious tone lingering in the air. Following your gaze down at his cock and darting back up between your two orbs, he nodded slowly as he sucked in his scarred lips.

“If you want to,” he whispered slowly, drawing you close and pressing a sweet kiss against the apple of your cheek, “Let me take you over to the bed, okay. Lie on your side for me?”

He guided you to the large bed, each element smelling distinctively of incense, crisp linen, the stale linger of his cologne on the pillow cases, and something that felt like him. Lying on your side and offering him a sweet smile, he crawled over your body and caged you beneath his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“I promise I won’t put it all in,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your shoulders and gently caressing him with each featherlight kiss, “Just the tip.” You nod at him, drawing your hand up and gently smoothing over the hair covering his ears. Falling behind your body, he jolted your knee forward with one of his own, lacing a lengthy thigh between yours, and lined his cock up against your glistening slit.

The reason he asked to position you in the first place is so you didn't become frightened by that hungry look in his eyes. That soft little ‘just the tip,’ that fell so innocently from your lips almost had him cum on the spot. He couldn’t let you know how eager he was to try it, how desperate he was to just have the smallest amount of his cock buried in your pussy. Drawing his palm down to your ass, he gently spread your cheek and exposed your entrance to him from behind. The shudder in his jaw matched the glaze of lust eclipsing his eyes.

Testing your heat, he reached down further and flicked his digits over the slit and collected your arousal. You mewled at the soft contact, arching your back and gently rocking your ass against his hand. He chuckled in your ear, giving your shoulder blade a swift kiss. Scooping his unoccupied palm beneath the pillows under your head, he cradled your chest against his body and lined up his cockhead with your warmth.

“Comfy?” he asked you, reaching down with the hand cradling you and collecting one of your breasts within his palm. You nodded, collecting his knuckles beneath your chin and giving it a quick kiss. Taking that as consent, he gently rocked his hips forward and eased his fat tip inside your slick cunt. His eyes rolled back at the squeeze, almost becoming lost in the moment and wanting so desperately to claim more of you with himself.

You hissed at the small sting, your walls fluttering and straining to accommodate his girth with each soft stretch. He halted at the rim of his tip disappearing into your body completely, his knob fully nestled within your body. Releasing a sigh, you flopped your head onto his arm and leaned into his embrace. Although not completely uncomfortable, the stretch of his tip felt like all you could truly take of him. His entire length would simply overwhelm you, needing a lot of practice before you were able to take the whole shaft.

“You okay, Heat?” you asked softly over your shoulder. The grip on your breast firmed, his arm seeming to vibrate with a soft quake. “Is this bad for you? Are you uncomfortable-?”

“-I’m t-trying not to cum,” he managed to stutter out, the hand on your ass moving to your hips to hold you stationary, “I-It-... It’s been a while. I-I-I’m gonna cum-!”

A large smile split up your face, prompting you to boldly arch your back and rock his tip inside your slippery walls. He shuddered and shook against you, his tip never truly leaving your body while the soft rocking over the sensitive head drew him to the white-hot ecstasy he was desperately attempting to withhold.

It only took a few more rocks before he came undone within your walls. The first few drops spilled over before he rocked his hips out of you and sprayed your back with his cum. He had no time to reach down and grip it before he was panting your name into your neck and spurting his release in white flashes over your ass. His choked whines and whimpers were caught in his throat, the little apologies flinging forth with each wave of release shooting against your skin.

“F-Fuck, fuck, shit,” he cried, his cock betraying him as he burried his face into your neck, “I-I’m sorry. ‘M sorry. It-... You-... So good.” You offered him a soft giggle, pressing your lips against his arm and flurrying a burst of soft kisses over his skin. Before you had the opportunity to offer him anything in response, he rolled you onto your back and withdrew back up between your knees.

“This fucking pussy,” he growled playfully at you, “Is too fucking good. Gonna have to punish it a little bit.” He kissed up your thighs, throwing your knees over his shoulders, and uncaring about your back stamping his release onto his duvet. Eyes holding yours for a moment, he gives you a short wink before immediately surging forward and diving into your pussy. Tongue flicking, mouth claiming, head bobbing, and nose grinding, he was going to have you cum on his face a couple of times as a playful invoke of punishment.

And then he was going to make you some potatoes. Any way you wanted them, he was going to make them for you.

Wire

Wire's lips dropped to a somber pout, eyes downturning and tearing his gaze away from your own. Although he had consumed several of your orgasms with his lips, mouth and skilled tongue, he knew there was little chance his cock would be able to bury itself in your plush pussy.

He was simply too big. Nine feet tall with a cock over one foot: achingly hard, desperately bobbing and leaking precum from his dark rose-colored tip.

“I know. I'm sorry,” he whispered softly, gently clicking his tongue and attempting to mentally rid his body of desire. Sighing out a sorrowful exhale, Wire flopped onto his back and laced his hands behind his head with his eyes falling shut. His cock stood proud and neglected, his pretty tip twitching and begging wordlessly for stimuli.

“Hey, look at me, honey,” your voice soothes down at him, your hands reaching for his cheeks and caressing his smooth skin and coarse facial hair. He scrunched his nose up and held his eyes closed in a tight clamp. Giggling at him, you shook your head before brushing your nose with his.

“Fine,” you whisper, hovering your lips above his, “Be like that.” Pressing your lips against his in a chaste kiss, he barely had time to reciprocate it before he felt you withdraw from him completely.

Slinking down his chest and over his stomach, you press soft kiss after soft kiss against his flesh. Mouthing at the skin, humming at the elevated goose flesh you leave in your wake, you map a trail down to his neatly cropped and trimmed happy trail.

Lulling your tongue from your mouth, you lick a fat stripe up from his large vein on the underside, over each divot of elevation towards the frenulum. Mouthing delicately, romancing his cock with each open kiss, you manage to widen your lips enough to nearly encapsulate his cockhead between your lips. The corner of your mouth split the skin, stinging pain prompting you to wince at the tear. His tip was larger than the circumference of your fist, and you simply couldn't put that in your mouth without your teeth biting into it.

“Don't-,” Wire whispered softly, his Adam's apple bobbing at the motion you were pressing against his skin, “Don't force it, sweetheart. I know it won't fit. It's okay, truly.” He reached down and cupped your cheek, drawing you up to cradle you against his chest.

“But-,” you tried to relay, cut off immediately with a harsh whisper down into your scalp.

“-I said ‘don't’,” he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, “It brings me pleasure to bring you pleasure. I don't need anything from you, sweetheart.” He pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger, drawing your eyes up to meet his. “I just want you.” His hand relaxed against your face, caressing your skin in slow, soothing circles.

You hum into his hand, closing your eyes and leaning your lips lower to press a sweet kiss against his palm. He chuckles in response to such a softness from your earlier sultriness. Embracing you in silence against his chest, his cock twitched and began to reduce with his restraint.

Looking down between you, your legs and ass barely make it to his stomach with the height difference. Lulling your head to the side, you take your lips into your mouth and gaze longingly at his cock.

“...What if we don't put it in?” you offer, intrigue being met by his cock pulsating and slowly swelling back to life.

“Don't start, sweetheart. It was just going down,” he grumbled at you, chuckling against your head. You rolled your head back up to meet him, pouting up at him and doeing your eyes at him innocently.

“What if you fuck my thighs? I can grind your cock on my clit and get it all wet and messy for you?” you offer as if asking him what he wanted for lunch, completely nonchalantly, “You can cum on my stomach or ass, anywhere you want, and I'll say ‘please' and 'thank you’?” Wire growls down at you, his deep baritone vibrating against your shoulder.

“You can't look at me like that and spurt such filthy shit, sweetheart,” he moved his body up, sitting with you on his chest and manhandling you effortlessly, “Sends me mixed messages. I want to take care of you first, dote on you and make sure you’re feeling safe and secure, and on the other hand, I want to use your thighs as my personal flesh light and fuck them until I'm satisfied.”

Without skipping a beat, you smile back up at him.

“Use my thighs as your personal flesh light and fuck them until you're satisfied please,” you chirped happily up at him, prompting him to immediately clasp your thighs together and slot his exceptionally large cock between your wet pussy and your thighs.

“You asked for it, sweetheart.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

#one piece #x reader #kid pirates #kid #killer #heat #wire #kid x reader #killer x reader #heat x reader #wire x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #x afab reader #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #op heat #op wire

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apoemaday · 1 year ago

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Monet Refuses the Operation

by Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say that there are no halos around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction. I tell you it has taken me all my life to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, to soften and blur and finally banish the edges you regret I don’t see, to learn that the line I called the horizon does not exist and sky and water, so long apart, are the same state of being. Fifty-four years before I could see Rouen cathedral is built of parallel shafts of sun, and now you want to restore my youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space, wisteria separate from the bridge it covers. What can I say to convince you the Houses of Parliament dissolve night after night to become the fluid dream of the Thames? I will not return to a universe of objects that don’t know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent. The world is flux, and light becomes what it touches, becomes water, lilies on water, above and below water, becomes lilac and mauve and yellow and white and cerulean lamps, small fists passing sunlight so quickly to one another that it would take long, streaming hair inside my brush to catch it. To paint the speed of light! Our weighted shapes, these verticals, burn to mix with air and changes our bones, skin, clothes to gases. Doctor, if only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

#poetry #lisel mueller #monet refuses the operation

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defmaybe · 18 days ago

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Wrecked (Deluxe Expanded Edition): Bonus Track - Yunjin

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin x Male Reader

1k words (as of now)

Base album

Bonus Track - Sakura

A/N: Title gore, yes, I am aware, my apologies. Need to post this to give myself some motivation to write the entire piece out lol. My first time writing daddy kink. Also, thanks to yieldtotemptation's Easy for inspiring a lot of prose choices!

—

Yunjin’s lips sure are the pair that you’re going to remember.

She kneels down on the floor, painting your length with the fire-engine red of her lipstick and her slick, thick saliva. Hot breath from her nostrils brushes against your cock, making you strain on your couch. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, eyes looking up at you—pleading, begging for your cum.

Her hands grip on your thighs tightly, effectively holding you in your place. The suction is perfect, immaculate, deliberate. You squirm and moan loudly. Good thing the walls are thick here. Never have you gotten a single noise complaint from the other residents fucking women raw—both in the mouth and in the cunt (sometimes even in the ass).

“Keep sucking it, babygirl. You’re doing well,” you whine drunkenly, hands playing with the locks and messes in her hair. They are soft to your touch.

“Won’t leave you hanging, daddy,” Yunjin says, muffled by your thick cock, eyes staring into yours. She breaks the suction with occasional licks on your shaft and balls, pressing her flat, filthy tongue against your sensitive spot, and you’d shriek when she does that. Her hands help, rubbing on your cock while the warmth of her mouth is missing, and you just can’t help but to moan.

“Daddy loves it, doesn’t he?” Yunjin says with a soft giggle, running her hands on your thighs, overstimulating you. “My pussy’s even better than this. Think about it.”

And you think about it—the way her warm mouth envelops you, so unbelievably tight and wet. The image of you fucking her even-tighter cunt elects itself up in your mind as she squirms under you like a slut. Her legs are lifted in the air while you thrust into her with such merciless roughness. Her tight walls contract and heave around your throbbing cock. Both of you moan in unison from the pleasure cutting through your bodies. She’s going to fucking milk you for all you’re worth if you only get a touch of her hole.

“Bet you wanna wreck my pussy so bad,” Yunjin teases, hands cupping your balls, nuzzling her nose on your waist as her tongue laves around the base of your cock. She laps her tongue up your cock once more, making you groan from the depths of your lungs, before taking you whole with her mouth again. “Bet you wanna breed me with that white, hot cum, putting that baby batter inside my womb.”

You growl as a response, “You’re a such a fucking slut, Yunjin.”

She only giggles, diving on your length again, and again, and again. Each time brings you such incomprehensible pleasure through your body. She stretches her lips as far as they’ll go, taking your cock into her mouth like she has been built for it. Her puffy, plump lips take you like she was hard-coded into sucking your cock. Syntax be damned, auto-complete all abused. It’s that hot, slick mouth. She’s a total professional, and you can’t help but squirm and thrash in her execution.

Yunjin doubles her efforts, gaining her tempo on your cock while taking you in deep. You can feel the tip of your cock hitting the back of her throat. She begins to gag, making those poor retching sounds from the depth of her lungs. Her throat pulses and convulses from the sheer size of your cock.

“Nasty cockslut.”

She looks up, lashes fluttering. “I’m honored to be your little cockslut, daddy,” slurs Yunjin, sounding so slutty that it’s sending you into overdrive, mouth still so fucking full of your cock, tip poking her throat.

“Bet every guy in your department has thought about fucking that mouth of yours,” you snarl, barely coherent, cock aching and throbbing so desperately inside the cavern that is Huh Yunjin’s mouth. Your hands dig into the fabric of your couch as her head goes haywire on your cock, so eager to drink your white, hot nectar.

“You’re the first in the company to fuck my mouth, daddy.”

The idea spurs you on, and you feel it, that wave from afar, ready to crash into you. You’re straining, hands moving to grip her ponytail at the back of her head, thrusting your cock into her slutty mouth clumsily. Her mouth is begging, pleading to be fucked like this, you tell yourself. The suction, the plumpness of her lips, the sound she makes when the tip of your cock hits the back of her throat. You use her, making her take you fully, making her mouth yours, making her yours.

The feeling builds up inside your loins. Your body arches into her, rutting into her mouth roughly. You hear Yunjin gag and retch around your cock, tightly gripping on your thighs for holds. God, she’s such a perfect cocksleeve, taking you in so hungrily.

Until you break.

“Fuck!”

You press Yunjin’s head against your crotch, unloading your balls into her mouth, spraying seemingly an endless amount of cum onto the back of her throat. Yunjin gags on you, but she takes it—every, single, drop. She lets it run down her throat into her stomach, swallowing all of you. Your cock twitches painfully against the confines called her mouth, body unable to stay still on the couch. The sight is nothing short of ugly and obscene—you pressing Yunjin’s head against your crotch while your body twitches from the sheer force of your orgasm.

The orgasm slowly subsides, as you let go of Yunjin’s ponytail, giving her the much-needed space to breathe again. She’s shaking in front of you, trying to recompose herself back up again. Yunjin languidly drags her mouth off your cock, making a loud pop sound once it detaches. She smiles, showing you her prize, showing you the mess she has made. Strings of cum latch onto her teeth, and she moans, so drunk on your cum, so fucking lewdly you swear that you can just cum again. She absorbs your flavor into her tongue, licking the tongue around her teeth.

And she’s doing all this while she looks you in the eye.

“Any errors, daddy?”

“Not at all.”

—

#yunjin #le sserafim #yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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nehi-soda · 3 months ago

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Thinking about Joel Miller’s thick manly thighs…

qz!joel x female reader

cw: MDNI, dom/sub dynamics, pet names, daddy!kink, dd/lg undertones, size kink, body worship, oral fixation, oral sex (m receiving).

Imagine…

Your hands and knees and bare pussy stick to the wrecked carpet of Joel’s apartment. It’s sticky with whiskey, blood and gods knows what else.

But you don’t care. You like it even, as you have Joel Miller’s giant legs bracketing you at his feet. You lick up the inside of his leg leaving a nice long trail of saliva.

His thick hair is rough against your flattened tounge and you can taste the salty musk on his skin after a hard days work making a drop. You make sure to give both knees a gentle kiss on your ascent. They always creak and groan after Joel puts them through their paces.

You’re in nothing but a piece of fabric that was once a nice pleated skirt, now it shows off your ass to him just right when he’s standing over you like this.

Joels’ naked save for a pair of ratty navy socks he refuses to take off at times like this, even though you would worship his feet all the same. You practically worship the ground he walks on anyway.

You lift up off your ass to reach your favourite features of Joel’s body (apart from his snail trail)—his thick manly thighs.

You’ve changed techniques and now suck and nip with big pouty lips at the flesh there. Joel pushes air out of nose with a hitched breath when you finally plant a big wet kiss on his heavy balls. You fondle them with your tongue and gulp them into your mouth which earns you a low rumbled groan. ‘Atta, just like that’. His hand flys up to tangle at the nape of your neck and you’re in pure bliss because nothing makes you happier than making Joel Miller happy.

Your tummy fizzies with excitement and greedy desire as you spoil yourself imagining all the cum he’s been saving for you, filling up your mouth and running down your throat. Your pretty eyes roll back as your muffled whimpers vibrate inside your mouth.

You pull your swollen lips away with a pop and a breathy sigh, mouth and chin glistening with saliva.

Joel plugs the hole that is never satisfied with his thumb. You eagerly accept and suckle as you look into his eyes like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Christ, ya’ look cute as hell on your knees for me, baby.” He drawls.

You giggle around Joel’s thumb in between sucks, replacing your satin soft lips with a toothy smile.

“Um, does daddy’s balls need emptying now?” You feign innocence, the vulgarity of your question a contradiction to the sickly sweet tone in which you asked it.

“Oh, definitely. They’re achin’ real bad, baby. Need a good drainin’ I think.” Joel chuckles and massages his balls with his free hand before pulling your mouth over to the head of his throbbing cock.

He just teases it against your tounge first, rubbing the leaking head around your lips like a lipstick before shoving your head down onto the thick shaft.

“Take it all, sweetheart,” Joel growls above you, his voice low and gravelly, frayed around the edges. His fingers grip the back of your head, pressing hard enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. You’ve gotten good at accommodating his impressive size, almost instantly the walls of your throat are expanding and your mouth is filling with saliva to ease the passage. Your scalp tingles where his nails scrape, but the sting is intoxicating.

Your lips stretch wide around him, the corners cracking from the sheer size. His cock is heavy on your tongue, the salty tang of his precum sliding down your throat as you swallow greedily. Every inch Joel pushes deeper makes your eyes sting with tears, blurring your vision, but you keep looking up at him, desperate for that rare flash of softness in his expression.

“Good job,” he mutters, the words like honey dripping off his tongue, thick and sweet into your ears. His thumb brushes against the corner of your wet mouth, smearing the drool that’s gathered there. “Look so pretty like this—my pretty little fucktoy.” The praise sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your throbbing cunt.

You know he likes it nice and sloppy so you make sure to gag and choke on it and make all the wet squelchy sounds as he skull fucks you into oblivion.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of your worship, saliva dripping down your chest, pooling between your tits, little bubbles gurgle and pop around Joel’s cock. Your body trembles as you take everything he gives you, nails diging into his thighs, desperate to steady yourself, but Joel doesn’t let up—doesn’t stop until you’re choking on him, until the tears stream down your cheeks and your throat clenches around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, his voice hoarse, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer, his cock pulsing against your tongue. “Gonna fill you up, baby—gonna make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.”

You like when he treats your mouth like nothing more than his little fleshlight; a cum dump; an extraction device. Always so warm and welcoming, ready to take the large loads he releases into your mouth or on your pretty face.

And you preen up at him with bright joyful eyes every time.

divider by @dollywons

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #qz!joel #pixel joel

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mamayan · 2 years ago

Note

i’m here for my reward

can shiggy please piss in my mouth 🙏🏼

thank you yannie ♡

Are you sure you don’t want the kidney too? One incel depraved Shiggy comin’ up♡ Tbh I’ve had this fantasy for a while in my keep for later box. Might expand upon later for all his kinks!

☆彡Game Time★彡

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

CW: Incel Gamer Shiggy • NSFW • Piss Swallowing • Piss Kink • Oral (M) • Degradation (F) • Humiliation (F) • Sub! Reader • DubCon (¿) • Praise (F) • Masturbation (F) • Shiggy is a disgusting dirtbag whom I love ♡

The clicking of the controller was beginning to grate on your nerves.

Your eyes left the phone screen in your hand, tracking his form hunched over in his gaming chair. He hadn’t moved in nearly five hours, still in the same position as when you’d returned home.

Clicking your tongue, you decided it was up to you to save his spine. Only thing that could pull him from this new game was either sex or a blowjob. You still ached from last night, his handling ruthless as he fucked his frustration out on you.

Not that you minded.

Slipping from the bed and your warm cocoon, you padded over stained carpet and kicked aside a few leftover takeout containers to reach his perch in front of the Tv. The room dark without the bright HD flat screen illuminating the space with whatever zombie horror game he was playing. His dark hoodie pulled over his greasy locks, his sweat pants low on his hips with his feet glued to the chair. He couldn’t have been comfortable, but it hardly mattered as you dropped to your knees in front of his chair, not blocking the screen. Least you incur his rage for making him lose.

He’s already lost a multitude of times now, frustration mounting similarly to yesterday, but with a renewed vigor to beat this level.

Even with your pretty face trying to get between his legs, he hardly acknowledges you. When your soft hands reach for his waist band, he’s even helpful in allowing you to tug them down. Normally he’d have glanced down by now, taken in your sultry gaze and sneered. His eyes remain glued to the screen, hands deftly moving as he actually begins advancing.

You’re sold. Happily gripping his half hard cock in your hands, giving a few pumps as he begins to swell fully, girth and length growing under your touch. You know better than to tease him, not now at least. You don’t hesitate to lean into his lap, his torso straightening to allow you closer. Your wet hot mouth breathing over his twitching reddened cock head, the musk and sweat from gaming all day without moving not the most pleasant. It doesn’t matter, your tongue flicking out to lick from the base, over a thick vein which runs from under his shaft, and up to the soft head where you swirl over the slit. Drooling over his cock and slicking him up nicely, earning a low groan and grunt as you swallow half of him. He doesn’t buck or force you further, and you’re even more emboldened as you slowly begin to work him in your mouth, flattening your tongue and allowing your breathing to lengthen. Taking deeper breathes in and slowly letting it out as you finally feel a low burn in your throat as your lips touch wiry deep blue pubic hair. Your nose nuzzling in as you finally take him completely into your throat.

Normally he’d ruin it. Push your head or grind too deep and force you up to cough and suck in air while panicked.

He seems too focused and concentrated to bother with you though, and it’s a good opportunity to enjoy giving him head instead of fighting not to pass out while he face fucks you. Languidly letting your tongue move around his cock, you begin a rhythmic bobbing motion, finding a calmness to this sort of intimacy. It even has your cunt throbbing, thighs rubbing together as you greedily allow a hand to slip into your underwear. It’s enough to have you moaning as you collect your own arousal to slick your clit and softly roll around it. Building your own release as you did his, happy to really take him deep as he huffs and pants above you. The way he’s leaning doesn’t allow you to look up, and with his thighs spread on either side of your head, it’s hard to pay attention to anything but his dick in your throat.

Your moans and whimpers aren’t dismissed by Tomura though. He’s quite aware you’re getting yourself off like some sort of cam slut while taking his cock in your filthy mouth. He knows you’re shaking your dripping cunt and shoving your fingers inside, but he’s winning right now, shockingly able to focus better as he feels his cock twitch in your tight contracting throat.

“Fuck— don’t think of stopping slut, you better take my load straight into your stomach— hhsss,” he hisses in pleasure and irritation as his balls tighten, your free hand moving to fondle and roll his nuts between your little fingers. His shoulders hunch, but his dark tired red eyes don’t even close anymore as he nears the close of his level. He’s sweating, jerking a bit but trying his damndest not to lose this fucking game again even as his lower stomach burns painfully for release. You’re not stupid enough to slow down either, working his slobbery cock between your lips and in your mouth much like the slut he calls you. Messily squelching and noisily sucking, nearly an ASMR for blowjobs for any loser listening in.

Your eyes water, his orgasm prolonged due to your initial slowness to enjoy the sensations of his cock, but you aren’t deterred as your own orgasm nears, your cunt nearly as loud as your mouth from how wet you are. Moving your hips just right, you struggle to push your own fingers just deep enough to rub where you want them, to stretch yourself out enough to really feel it. If Tomura bothered to look down, he’s see a debauched and beautiful sight, your soaked face and watery eyes desperately trying to swallow his cock while you get yourself off.

“That’s it, ugh, dumb mouth is good for something huh? Fuck I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuck—,” his teeth are gritted, face nearly enraged as his eyes pop wide and lips tear a little at the corners, not realizing he’d been drooling while panting. His eyes don’t move from the screen even as you yelp, his thighs moving to wrap around your head and face as he shifts his hips up to push too deep down your throat. His feet act like a vice lock around your neck.

Gagging you as your tears leak like a broken fountain, trying to shake your head or pull away.

He cums harder than he ever has before, the burning in his cock making his own eyes water, but still his hands don’t stop until he finally enters through a save portal. He’s laughing now, his game saving as he finally beats this shitty level, finally allowing his eyes to look down as your hands pathetically try to push him off so you can breathe.

Your eyes are open and reddened, snot and tears running down your face and ruining your mascara. You’re a pitiful sight for sore eyes.

“Haha! What’s wrong whore? You wanted this! Who put my fucking cock in your mouth huh?!” He’s elated, moaning and humping your face while he sets his controller aside to dig his hands into the torn armrest cushion as he empties his balls into your stomach.

“Fuck I gotta piss, fuck fuck, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Huh? I can’t fucking hear you!”

“Mngh!!” You can’t get away, not even mindful of biting down as you feel your throat beginning to throb in a burning pain, already having swallowed all of his cum.

“You wanna drink my piss slut? Fuck you do, don’t you? Haha! Okay Princess, anything for you~” He’s manic, so high from the harsh orgasm and delayed gratification of beating this level. It’s a bit odd at first, feeling your warm tight throat around him not his usual comfort as he unloads, but he relaxes quick enough as he moans, eyes rolling back as he begins to piss down your throat.

Like his hot cum, this wretched load goes straight into your stomach, and you’re unable to stop the cough which chokes his dick and yourself as Tomura finally unlocks his legs. His quick grip in your hair prevents you from escaping as he holds his semi-limp dick cackling, you’re helpless as you finally drag in air through your mouth, as his rancid piss hits your tongue and face. You’re forced to swallow more as you feel your lungs burning even now.

“Look at you Princess! Finally got ya that new moisturizer!” He only finds it hilarious, breathing heavily as he finishes all over your body. His eyes track down your sorry figure, landing on your hand still shoved down your pants and moving.

Your shudder and gargled noises finally stopping as you go limp against his thigh, resting as you pant and twitch.

“Dirty little slut, did my piss push you over? Fuck that’s hot, hey,” a tap against your face has your eyes wearily looking up.

He looks insane.

“Let’s do that again, this time I want you to piss on me while you cum.” His smile makes fear and anticipation blossom inside your stomach.

#not proof read!#tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #tomura smut #tomura x reader smut #fem! reader #x reader #bnha #mha #incel Shiggy #incel shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader smut #request fulfilled #gamer shiggy x reader #shiggy fuckers come get y’all juice #Yan loves her mooties

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aemsgirl · 2 months ago

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In Spite Of Us.

Modern Aemond x Reader. PT2

Summary: The lines tangle tighter, pulling you and Aemond into something neither of you can fully control—something that could cost you everything. But in the end, none of it matters. Not if the pain fades into something you can stomach. Not if you can tell yourself it’s worth it. Even if he leaves you in ruins, painted in black and blue.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Oral sex, violence, mention of illegal activities, incest, dub-consent, aggression, degradation, mention of blood, childhood trauma, mention of attempted suicide.

The mornings were fucking hell. Shafts of light pierced through every crack, heating up the room that was already suffocating with the windows closed tightly. You'd learned better than to leave them open, or anything else, for that matter. One slip and it was over—whether it was the cops or the worst of the fucking dragnet. Who wanted your head more at this point? Hard to say. Aemond wasn't making it any easier, carving his own path through this mess. The blood was heavy on your side, stained deep under your nails, but his? Worse. At this point, it was hard to tell. The chipped black polish on his nails was the only dead giveaway.

Aemond used to grunt in his sleep, tossing and turning, his restless movements making the bed feel like a battlefield. Meanwhile, you were as still as a statue beside him, and he couldn't help but wonder how the hell you managed it. But today? Today was different. He woke up without the usual weight of a hangover, his eyes snapping open, the light cutting through the room like a blade. His hand instinctively found his face, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to shake off the drowsiness, but it was futile. Some mornings, he just wanted a shock straight to the skull—anything to wake him up fully and get rid of that corpse-like heaviness dragging at his bones.

Rolling over, his gaze landed on you, as always. Lying on your side, eyes closed, still wrapped up in the sleep-induced haze. He knew you wouldn't wake up now, not with the crap you shoved down your throat every night just to knock yourself out. It was the usual routine. Him waking up first, having to shower alone, eating alone—shit, he didn’t even get to share the fucking morning with you. It pissed him off, made him want to pinch you from head to toe just to see if you'd stir, maybe open those damn eyes and remind him that you were still here. Still fucking human. Still present.

But he didn't move, not yet. Instead, he just watched you, lying there so still, almost serene. Usually, you were a pain in the ass—your tongue sharp, always quick with a retort, too fast for your own good. But like this? Like this, you were calm, a whole different side of you that made his gaze linger longer than it should. It was almost unsettling how peaceful you looked, and he couldn't shake the thought of how fucking strange it was to see you this way.

It was like those beaches he’d seen in pictures, the ones with the waters so blue they looked almost unreal, like a fucking dream. On a hot day, you'd dive in without thinking, wanting to swim every inch of that vast, sparkling expand until your body ached and your lungs burned. But there was always a little sign, tucked away just out of sight, warning you: beware sharks. And even if it looked inviting, even if every instinct screamed at you to dive in, you knew better. One wrong move, and those sharks would rip you to shreds before you could even get tired.

Yet, the thought of being devoured, of sinking into that cold embrace, was oddly tempting. The idea of being consumed by you, torn apart and remade—yeah, that sounded fucking good to him. Almost too good.

Aemond's breath escaped him in a heavy sigh, as if exhaling his thoughts right along with the air, the weight of them pressing on him like an invisible burden. He tore his gaze away from you, reluctantly letting the stillness of your form fade from his view. With a sluggish movement, he sat up, his body protesting the action with every subtle shift. His muscles felt like they were made of stone, every tiny movement pulling at something inside him, making him ache. He glanced around the room to make sure everything was where it should be—nothing out of place. The blue light still bathed the walls in its soft glow, although it lacked the same intensity it had at night.

He stretched, hoping to shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep, but it only worked halfway, leaving a faint ache in its place. His eyes found you again, just from the corner.

Fuck this. Fuck you, he thought.

His gaze, whether he intended it or not, traced the contours of your body. The curve of your hips barely concealed by your panties, your torso only covered by a sheer white tank top, your breasts almost visible, your nipples subtly outlined, calling to him, even if unknowingly. Your body always beckons to him, regardless of the situation, the mood, or the moment. Every woman has an itch, and he knows yours is him. There's no other explanation, and he wouldn't accept any alternative.

His body moved as if he was being called by a siren. The not-so-gentle hands turned your body so you were lying on your back and giving him a better view. You groaned softly, but didn't really wake up. Your body, swallowed by heaviness and sleep, too heavy to actually do anything. Vulnerable, open. Everything Aemond likes, everything he wants. Like a fucking leech, or maggots crawling on dead flesh feeding on what's left of a life, he feeds on these moments. Control, pure and raw. Over everything, over you.

His fingers clawed at your legs, dragging himself across the bed like a really silently predator stalking its prey until he was nestled between your spread thighs, squatting on his heels. His fingers, cold and unyielding, scraped down your thighs, seizing your ankles with a tight grip. He dragged them, forcing your feet to frame his body on the bed, keeping your legs wrenched apart, exposing you. You were so fucking malleable under his hands, like he could take you apart and put you back together however the fuck he wanted, twist your body into any perverse shape his dark mind conjured. And he loved it, loved how you were his to corrupt.

"I'm hungry," he murmurs, the words dripping with that familiar, chilling tone. You've heard it before, countless times, in various contexts, knowing damn well what it means when he says it like that. It's not about food.

He fucking knows you remember, too. The times when there was no food, or when dad, that piece of shit, would beat you until you were sick. The leather belt, the shine of the silver buckle in the dim light, always after a meal, when your stomachs were full. And on your knees, he’d beat you until vomit painted the floor, until there was nothing left but the acrid taste of bile. He remembers that bastard's smile, how he'd grab him by the hair, forcing his face into the mess he'd made. He remembers the shaking, the pain, the hunger that followed. He remembers you.

Like a fucking feast, like you are now.

His fingers slithered over your skin, their tips sneaking under your tank top, feeling the fabric’s edge. He watched as goosebumps erupted across your thighs, your body betraying its response to his touch. Like it always fucking does. When his hunger was palpable, it didn't matter if your eyes were wide open or shut tight, if your mind was with him or lost in some dark dreamscape behind those lids. He'd always been this way, and you? You'd always allowed it. Ever since before that son of a bitch's death, when he first felt you wrapped around him, when you heard him jerking off to thoughts of you at night, whimpering into your ear, his hips grinding against you. You'd always let him because you want him; you fucking need him.

And you'll get it. You bet your ass you will.

His fingers ascend, dragging the fabric of your shirt with them, baring your breasts to his ravenous gaze. At the mere sight of your skin, his mouth waters. Your head turns aside on the pillow, a low moan escaping you. You feel the heat spreading through your torso, warm and alive. His fingers then travel down to your panties, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and slowly dragging them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes lock onto your pussy, so fucking perfect for him. Always so fucking perfect, so good. How in hell could something this delectable even exist?

"I'm hungry," Aemond murmured again, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he visually consumed your intimate space, as if he hadn't already memorized every inch with his own senses.

He lowers himself, almost flattening against the bed, his long fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. He takes a moment to savor the view from this angle, your little cunt in his face, his gaze traveling up past your breasts to your face, turned away, lips parted, teeth just visible. So fucking beautiful, it makes him want to rip your face to shreds with his bare hands, to create chasms with his teeth, to chew on the pieces. He could do it, he wants to do it. But somewhere deep down, he knows that even if your flesh were torn apart, you'd still be this oppressive tightness in his chest. And he fucking hates it.

"And you're going to feed me, aren't you?" he whispers against your skin, his breath hot as it fans over your heat, noticing the slight twitch of your leg beside his head, but nothing more.

His tongue extends from your entrance to your clit, dragging up to your lower stomach, the sensation of his warm tongue unmistakable even through the haze of your disjointed thoughts, the weight of your limbs anchoring you to the bed. His lips return with increased urgency, one hand gripping your thigh, pulling it to his mouth, his teeth sinking into the skin of your inner thigh, while the other hand rises to grab one of your breasts, his fingertips pressing into the flesh. Your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling with mounting intensity.

His tongue traced a path down your inner thigh before making its way back to your core, not wasting time before delving in. It rolled between your folds, coating them with his saliva. As his tongue danced over your entrance again, the taste of your arousal hit him, eliciting a moan from deep within. Your body responded to every touch, tightening, a dim light seeping through your closed eyelids, though the two purple pills you'd ingested the night before made full consciousness elusive, your reactions slowed, your desires muted.

"You're getting all wet for me, little dove," he murmured, his voice low, muffled by your pussy, with no intention of pulling away to speak further. "Dirty girl, I should rip your throat open for this." A growl rumbled from him, his eyes closing as he sank deeper, his entire being focused on the sensations his mouth was exploring, leaving all his senses tethered to the act of licking you everywhere.

Your lips part further, a moan slipping through, your brows knitting together, etching a line of tension on your face. Your hips begin to shift weakly on the bed, up and down, your whimpers soft and muffled by fatigue. Aemond responds with his own sounds against your intimacy, taking full advantage of your semi-conscious state to vocalize his pleasure unrestrainedly. His fingers play with the nipple he's captured, giving it a sharp tug to jolt you further into awareness. Your legs, on either side of his head, fall open wider.

It's too good, too fucking good.

So good that you're unaware when your fingers find their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his black hair, pulling him closer in an instinctive, desperate plea for more.

Aemond freezes.

Your heart pounded like a drum, the shock of wakefulness like a slap across your face. Sweat beaded at your temples, and when you looked down, Aemond's eyes were already locked on you, his mouth still against you. The room seemed to stand still, time itself arrested. The chill that ran through you was like a bolt of ice, your senses suddenly sharp but tainted.

You attempted to rise, but he pounced, his hands reaching for your neck while your legs thrashed to push him off. You knew you were doomed if he pinned you down. Aemond grappled with your flailing arms, your nails raking his skin each time he tried to seize your wrists. But your resistance was faltering, and you knew this could be the end.

His fist slammed into your jaw, snapping your head to the side, blood erupting from your nose onto the pillows. His thighs clamped over yours, holding you down, but you still fought. His hands pressed your shoulders into the mattress, aiming for your neck, when you clawed at his throat, your nails digging in deep. A pained grunt escaped him as he clutched the bleeding marks you left on his neck. You seized the moment to free one leg, using your foot to shove his chest back.

"You fucking bitch!" Aemond's yell reverberated, but there was no time for discussion.

You hit the floor with a thud, a groan of pain escaping you. You saw Aemond beginning to rise from the bed, coming for you, and despite the difficulty, you managed to scramble up, staggering as you bolted. You collided with furniture, each impact a jolt of pain, while behind you, Aemond closed in with purposeful strides, his fists balled, jaw clenched tight. He was boiling over, rage spilling out like steam from an overfilled pot, threatening to scald you.

You made it to the living room, positioning yourself behind the small glass dining table. Aemond appeared in the doorway, his heartbeat almost audibly pounding, the intensity of it pressing against the air in your throat. Your naked body felt too exposed, his gaze raking over you, but not with lust. No, this was the look of someone intent on tearing you apart, letting you bleed out.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" you scream, knowing your words would fall on deaf ears. This wasn't the Aemond you knew; it couldn't be, not in this state.

He moved to the other side of the table, effectively blocking your escape route to the kitchen where you might have grabbed a knife. His eyes, wide and void, met yours, almost lifeless. Your palms were slick with sweat, your feet rooted to the spot despite your mind screaming to move. The mantra echoed in your head, 'he's coming for you.'

"Run," Aemond said, his voice laced with a sinister glee, his smile all teeth, gleaming menacingly.

And you didn't hesitate.

Your feet propelled you forward, his hot on your heels, the air barely making it into your lungs. You clutched the bathroom door frame, ready to dart inside, when his arms encircled your waist, lifting you off the floor. Your legs flailed, your hands clawing at his arms to break free, his grip squeezing your ribs like a vise. He began to retreat, pulling you with him, but you reacted swiftly. Your elbow slammed into his ribs, and when he didn't release you, your head snapped back into his, his sharp cry of pain mingling with the force that sent you sprawling to the ground.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his fingers pressing against his newly bloodied nose, courtesy of your counterattack.

You scrambled across the floor, more like a creature than a human, managing to slip through the bathroom door. You locked it with trembling hands. The door shook under the assault of Aemond's fists, each impact making you jump back, landing on your rear. The wood seemed on the verge of splintering with every hit. Your eyes darted around; there was a small window, but it was too narrow for escape. You'd tried before; it was impossible.

"Open the fucking door!" he yells, his punch so forceful it seems to bruise his knuckles, but the pain is the last thing on his mind now, only you matter. "It's going to be much worse for you, much worse!" His voice drips with venom, and with truth; it would indeed be worse.

But you don't care. Using the sink for support, you stand, and in the mirror, you see the blood trails from your nose to your lips. Your hips will soon bruise from the collisions with furniture and the floor. Desperation grips you as you pull at your own hair, each knock on the door a reminder of your vulnerability. Until his foot slams into the door, and you turn just in time to see it buckle.

You need to do something.

With no time for thought, your fist smashes into the mirror, glass exploding in all directions. The sound halts Aemond's assault briefly, as does your sharp cry of pain, your blood now dripping from your cut knuckles onto the white tiles. You frantically search for the largest, sharpest piece of glass among the debris, feeling the sting of tiny crystals under your nails.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Aemond's voice escalates with new urgency.

With another powerful kick, the door gives way, splinters mixing with your blood on the floor. Aemond's gaze locks on the bloody glass in your hand, his own rage intensifying. Eye to eye, you brace for what's to come.

He's coming for you, so you come for him too.

Aemond steps forward, and so do you; the glass slices the side of his arm, drawing blood. He staggers back, clutching the wound, and you advance, but he quickly seizes your wrist, twisting it viciously. It feels like he might break it, your fingers crushed further into the glass, embedding it into your palm. A scream tears from your lips, tears at the corners of your eyes. You're forced to release the shard, which shatters on the floor. With a knee to your stomach, Aemond sends you crashing down, all air exiting your lungs.

Slowly, he kneels beside you, watching your mouth open in a silent scream, your hand clutching your stomach as if to hold yourself together. Fucking pathetic, he thinks, the urge to spit in your face, to make you swallow every piece of broken glass on the floor overwhelming him.

"I should make you chew this whole fucking glass right off the floor." His threat is punctuated by him grabbing your hair, yanking your face closer to his.

Your pained expression feeds into him. He's aware he's using you as a punching bag, treating you like you're worthless, and he doesn't feel an ounce of remorse. Perhaps he will when the rage subsides, but when does it ever truly subside? Was it ever meant to? He doesn't know. But he's hard, painfully so under his underwear, throbbing with every tear that escapes your eyes, consumed by a frenzy that's pure and intense.

He slams your head back onto the ground with all his might. You squeeze your eyes shut, but there's no escaping the pain. Both his hands encircle your neck, and to prevent any more tricks, he kneels on your thighs, his weight crushing your flesh, drawing a scream that's stifled by the lack of air. There's a high-pitched sound in your ears, reminiscent of chairs scraping or the squeaky springs of that old swing in the dilapidated playground where you once played, where you felt like you could touch the clouds when he pushed you. You almost wish you could now.

"Die! Why wont you die?!" Aemond screams into your face, but you know he's not seeing you; he's not screaming at you.

Your hands claw at him, your nails raking down his bare chest, only adding to your torment. Aemond's eyes close, his body shaking above you. His nails dig deeper into your neck, darkness enveloping your vision. Your back arches in one last attempt to free yourself, and a loud, pained moan escapes Aemond as he climaxes in his underwear, the sensation so intense it could have shattered him instead of you. The pressure becomes unbearable, your lips parting in a futile attempt to breathe. Your eyes close, and you're thrown into a cold, black abyss. Alone.

Nights always carried a kind of mercy. The cold slipped through the cracked window, brushing against the room like a quiet apology for the chaos that had come before. The neon blue light pulsed faintly, painting the walls with something soft, almost alive. You’d always thought the blue was too sad, but Aemond liked it, so it stayed. Yet tonight, when you opened your eyes, it wasn’t blue filtering through your lids. No, it was clear light—sharp and unkind. Strange.

Then the ache hit. It was everywhere, spreading from your fingers to your chest like it had been carved into your very bones. Every muscle in your body screamed, raw and heavy, like you’d become one giant bruise. And maybe you had.

Your eyes moved across the room, desperate to find him. Your chest tightened when you didn’t see him straight away, and panic started to set in. But just as you shifted, ignoring the pain in your ribs, the bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Aemond stepped inside, his movements deliberate, his frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the light. He was dripping wet, his hair clinging to his shoulders in dark strands, wearing nothing but jeans slung low on his hips. In his hand, he carried a white plastic bag, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice steady and low. The sound of it cut through the stillness, grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

You glanced down at yourself, noticing the oversized shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t belong to you. His, clearly. You caught sight of your wrist next, carefully wrapped in white splints. The work was precise, too meticulous to have been done by anyone but him.

“Hey,” you croaked back, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt foreign in your throat, raw and strained. The bitterness in your mouth confirmed what you already suspected—he’d forced some medicine into you while you were out. It was just like him.

He moved closer to the bed, his gaze fixed on you as he settled on the edge. The space between you was thin, almost nonexistent, but it still felt like a gulf. You studied him, and he studied you right back. The marks on his skin stood out against the pale light—your nails had left their trails, violent and deliberate, carving down his neck, chest, and arms. There was a deeper wound too, one from the glass, glinting faintly in the morning light.

And he saw it too—the purple bruises on your neck, stark against your skin. His fingerprints. They sat there like inked tattoos. He likes them a lot.

“Do you want a picture?” Your voice cut through the silence, hoarse but steady, your words laced with that sharp edge he knew so well. It didn’t hurt anymore, and that was enough.

“Yeah,” he muttered, almost laughing under his breath. His eye traced your face like he was memorising it, his thoughts catching on the idea. If he had a camera, a good one, and if things were different—better—this house would be covered in you. Your face, your body, your marks. Everywhere. You’d be the only thing worth seeing.

The silence wrapped around you both, not oppressive, but present, like a third figure in the room. His hand, trembling with hesitation, inched towards yours. You caught the flicker of doubt in his movements, and without giving him a chance to second-guess, you reached for him. Your fingers threaded through his, clasping tightly, as if sealing a quiet promise neither of you dared to speak aloud.

The thought settled again at the base of your skull: If it doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s okay. Even if every inch of you was bruised and battered, flesh stained in shades of blue and black, it didn’t matter. It was just a body, after all—just skin and bone. Nothing more, nothing less.

When his gaze finally met yours, it wasn’t with the depth you might have hoped for. His eye held a flatness, void of the kind of emotion he wished he could express—or the kind you sometimes wished you could see. But you’d long since stopped expecting it. He didn’t know how to show it, couldn’t, and that was all right. You had learned to live in the spaces between what he gave and what he withheld. In the end, you told yourself, it would be bearable. Even if the walls of this house crumbled into ash one day, you’d both still be here.

Your eyes searched his, and his mirrored the same dance. Without warning, he pulled hard on your hand, yanking you forward until your chests collided. His arms snaked around your shoulders, locking you into him, as if he were holding on for dear life. Instinctively, your hands found his waist, drawing him closer, your fingers gripping tightly as if the two of you could weld together. Your face nestled perfectly into the curve of his neck—a hollow that seemed carved for you alone. A place to rest, and perhaps even to bite when the need arose.

Holding him like this felt steady. Familiar. Safe. Just as the bruises and scratches had their place, so did the moments like this—the quiet inhalation of his scent, the way your arms clutched at him like he might disappear. It was measured, restrained, the intimacy meted out in doses small enough not to overwhelm. Anything more would be unbearable, tipping into something too raw, too unmanageable.

“I brought you something,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. Slowly, he pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze again.

You said nothing, only watched as his hands left you to reach for the white plastic bag he’d brought in earlier. His fingers dipped inside, searching like a child eager to reveal a secret treasure. When he finally pulled it free, the golden wrapper caught the light, and your eyes locked onto the familiar shape of the chocolate bar.

Of course. It was always this. Sweetness. That was what he saw in you, wasn’t it? Something indulgent. You didn’t mind, not really. Even though you knew it was fleeting—your teeth would rot eventually, fall out maybe. The ants might come, leaving trails of fire across your skin. But none of that mattered, not when the sweetness melted on your tongue. He always brought it to you. Always.

You take the bar from his hand, tearing it open with your teeth like you’ve got no time for subtlety, the wrapper crinkling loud enough to fill the silence. Chocolate smears across your fingers as you peel it back, and you pause for a second, staring him down before sinking your teeth into it. A big bite—half the damn thing gone already. Aemond watches you for a moment, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smirk, but then his gaze drops to his hands resting in his lap.

“You need a shower,” he says finally, voice low but firm, cutting through the quiet like a blade. “The Worm wants to see us at the club tonight.”

Your eyes flick up at that, unimpressed, because of course that bastard does.

“Why?” you ask, exhaling the word more than speaking it, your tone halfway between exhaustion and annoyance. You take another bite of the chocolate, letting it melt lazily on your tongue like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“A little daddy’s boy soirée or something,” Aemond mutters with a shrug. He’s got that look again, the one he always wears when he talks about this shit—a mix of disdain and quiet rebellion. He hates this scene, the pounding music that sounds like it’s on a loop, the suffocating crowds. But then he adds, “There’ll be some good fish,” and his eye meets yours. Just a flicker of understanding passes between you.

The Worm might be a total bastard, but he had a nose for opportunities, especially when it came to sales. The nightclub was his playground, his stage, and let’s not forget his little meth empire ticking along in the background. The man handed you a lifeline—or a leash, depending on how you looked at it—but saying no to him wasn’t exactly an option. He loved to remind you of that whenever he could.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,” you mutter, a dry laugh escaping as you finish off the last of the bar, the taste bitter-sweet as it disappears.

Aemond reaches over and plucks the wrapper from your hand, his touch light but deliberate, watching you as you stand. Every muscle in your body protests, stiff and aching, but you ignore it, your bare feet hitting the cold floor with a shiver that shoots straight up your spine. You don’t pause, though. You make for the wardrobe, pulling open the smallest drawer to grab a bra and panties from the mess of clothes stuffed inside. Aemond doesn’t move, doesn’t look up. His fingers stay intertwined, his expression distant, like he’s lost somewhere else.

It’s only when your hand reaches for the door that his voice cuts through again, quiet but razor-sharp.

“I’ll be watching you,” he says, his tone warning but calm, his eye finally lifting to meet your retreating form. “So don’t do anything stupid.”

You let a sly grin slip out before moving on. It's not like you meant to fuck up, not tonight. Could be exhaustion or whatever. Your mess wasn't like Aemond's, not some epic cleanup. Well, at least not usually. You know his real fear is that you'll slit your wrists open and finish what you sometimes started after...incidents. That wasn't your intention tonight.

Your feet drag you to the bathroom, now always wide open thanks to that morning's drama. Inside, it's all spick and span, the sharp scent of bleach hitting you hard. He'd cleaned up, but some things just don't wash away. The door with its frame fucked, the mirror with a new hole in it, and that's it. Everything else, gone, like it usually is. Sometimes you wish you two were like this floor - a little soap and water could sort it out. Fix it up.

You try not to overthink, just strip down and jump into the shower. It's like your second home, scrubbing until your skin's raw. Careful not to drench those bandages he wrapped around your wrist. Eyes shut, you let the water wash you off, even if it's just skin deep.

Drying off and slipping into your undies and bra, you pause for a sec. Just taking a breath before heading back to the bedroom. From the doorway, you spot Aemond in front of the mirror, the little pots of black and white paint open, brush at the ready. His hair's less wet, those heavy black boots already on his feet, leather jacket slung over his shoulders, no shirt beneath. He turns, eyes sweeping over you, unabashed. Head cocked to the side for a moment.

"Help me with this." It's not a request, it's a command, part of the routine.

You don't think twice before stepping up, and neither does he. Aemond slides down in the chair, legs spreading wider, an open invite. You take it, hands on his shoulders for balance, swinging a leg over to sit on him. His hands lock onto your waist, holding you steady.

"Want something special tonight?" you ask, leaning down for one of the black eyeliner pencils.

Aemond's gaze travels your body again, you sitting there like he's your personal, ragged throne. His eyes crawl back up to yours, meeting them dead on. Yeah, he wants something special, but it's not about the paint or the lines on his face.

"Just the usual," Aemond says, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours, pupils blown wide.

You nod, leaning in to start sketching the lines on his face with the precision of someone who's done this dance before. When Aemond does it himself, it's all over the place, but you manage to make it look halfway decent. Not that it's supposed to be pretty; it's more about the vibe. With the eyeliner, you draw from his eyebrows down to his nose, stopping at the tip, then circle around his eye, connecting back to the other brow. It's rough, forming something like a triangle - shapes blurred and edgy. Moving to the other side, his eyes track you, locked on as your face scrunches in focus.

"You know I wanted to kill you, don't you?" Aemond mutters, pulling your gaze to him for a split second before you both return to the task at hand.

He did want to, no question about it. There was that moment when he saw your eyes close, your body go limp on the floor, and he thought, "This is it." But then he stopped. He didn't regret it; he was fucking glad he did.

"You didn’t." That's all you manage, a whisper, the only reply you've got.

You've thought he might end you, on some other nights, on those dark moments when the beast in him roared to get out because of some shit you pulled - intentional or not. But intentions? They're meaningless here. Not yours, not his, even if his was to squeeze the life out of you.

Aemond just stared, maybe with a hint of appreciation or some twisted form of affection. He couldn't tell if he'd fucked up your head, if he'd made you blind to his true nature, the chaos he brought into your life. He saw himself as a plague, infecting everything he touched, and he reveled in it, in you.

"I should take you to the beach sometime." Aemond's voice was low, almost a whisper, and you couldn't help but smile a bit. He'd mentioned it before, but it always felt like a fantasy.

He loathes the beach, despises the sun. The sand that grinds into knees, leaving them raw. Mum and dad never took you, and before that, the orphanage was all shades of gray. There was no sun there, and his pale skin seemed to thrive in the absence of it. You didn't miss what you'd never known.

"Yeah? What do you want to do there?" You play along with the dream, knowing it's probably never going to happen.

Your fingers grab a brush, dipping it into the white paint. You start painting his face, careful not to touch the dark lines around his eyes. His breath is heavier now, chest heaving in what seems like a thoughtful sigh.

"I don't know, just watch you swim." His reply is soft, his words hitting you like a gentle wave. "Some Sunday just watch you get pounded by the waves and some purple and blue in the sky. Being the only motherfuckers filling the place with smoke.”

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head, your fingers continuing their task with the white paint, transforming his face into something that feels more like a phantom than the man you know. You'd like that, at some point, to see him in such a scene. Perhaps perched on that motorcycle in some secluded spot, hiding from the sun, a cold beer in hand. His blue eyes would mirror the sea, his silver hair the sky, though you know he'd never let them be seen again. It's all just a daydream.

"Would you be there?" he asks, causing your hand to pause, the brush set aside.

The question strikes you as almost absurd. There are so many answers to it. He's pulling himself into the abyss, into a personal hell with all its promised torment, and you'd follow if only to hold his hand. Your answer is always yes, never no. He knows this, and still, he asks.

"I would be wherever you were," you confess in a whisper, meeting his gaze with unfiltered honesty, more than you'd wish to reveal, more than you could ever conceal.

His eyes shift from yours to your lips, perhaps searching for the taste of those words, or seeking some unclaimed piece of your skin to press them against. He doesn't speak, but the silence says he'd be with you too. You're like a persistent bit stuck in his teeth; no amount of licking or prodding or thinking he's had enough or moved you aside would ever truly dislodge you. Ever.

You pause, focusing back on the brush, cleaning off the white paint and dipping into black. The brush follows the eyeliner's path, shaping the design more distinctly. It's not your best work, but it's far from your worst, even if it's not art gallery material. But it'll do.

"It looks good," you murmur, more to yourself than to him, knowing better than to stroke his ego too much.

Aemond's eyes are locked on your lips, reading your words off them rather than through sound. His breath is warm, careful not to move and ruin your work. He's learned from experience you wouldn't like that.

"Yeah, it does." His gaze shifts up, impatience simmering under his skin. Being still isn't his forte.

With the final stroke, you complete the look. The white paint has dried, melding into his skin like a second layer. As you move to get up, his hands reluctantly slide off your waist, resting back in his lap. You take a moment to admire him - the corpse paint fitting him like a second skin, like he was born to wear it. The desire to have him take you, right there over the paints, until your drool becomes part of the artwork, is intense.

"Take a look," you say, motioning towards the mirror, keeping your darker thoughts at bay. If you let them out, there'd be no stopping.

Aemond looks into the mirror, not seeing himself but the mask he's donned. It's good, it's something. Just paint, toxic and transformative, embodying much of him yet not all. It's good, truly good.

You head to the closet, pulling out one of the usual dresses - same color, similar cuts, limited choices. Slipping it on, the fabric clings to your body, barely covering your thighs, the straps mingling with those of your bra. As you adjust it, Aemond turns, catching the motion of you smoothing it over your hips, his teeth catching his lower lip. You're a vision of sin, a gift to behold, stoking the fire in his veins and elsewhere.

You sit at the bed's foot, tugging on your black knee-high boots, similar to his but with higher heels. Aemond approaches just as you zip up, standing close enough that you nearly collide when you rise. His silent steps are always so damn stealthy. Your eyes lock, and without a word, he kneels before you, your gaze tracking him down, lips parting slightly.

Your heart races. He lifts your dress, bunching it at your waist, revealing you in just your panties. You anticipate warmth, but what you feel is cold. Opening your eyes, you see the pocket knife he's just stuck in your panties.

"You know how to use it," he murmurs, his breath teasingly close to where you're most sensitive, a slight dampness forming. "So use it if you need to."

He stands, eyes never leaving yours, fingers sliding the dress back down, covering you once more. It's like a cold splash of reality or a sharp stab of withdrawal; he steps away, and you close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, regain some semblance of control. He moves to the table, grabs his keys, cigarettes, and lighter.

"I'm going to get the bike out of the garage. Don't delay." His tone is devoid of warmth as he heads for the door, leaving you in the center of the room.

You adjust your dress, feeling the pulse of anger and desire because that bastard always knows exactly what he's doing. The knife's tip, so provocatively close to your core, feels like a taunt. You hate him, more than when he breaks you apart. With that hatred, you move to where he was sitting and look at your reflection, noting the bruise on your jaw that you'll need to conceal with makeup. Not for the opinions of those at the club, you couldn't care less about them.

But, that's what you do. You cover his marks. And tonight, you'll do it again.

#modern aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond #x reader #ewan mitchell #fanfic #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #martin in the modern world #dead dove fic

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arvindrubberindia · 2 months ago

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What are Tube Rollers and How do they Work?

The Blog Tube roller is a very important machine that is helping a range of companies in achieving their goals. This is because a tube roller bends and shapes tubes, cylindrical materials, and pipes. But the question still remains the same, i.e. what exactly a tube roller is and how does it work?

Also known as Tube Bending Machine, a Tube Roller is a piece of equipment used to bend tubes and pipes. It is commonly used in a range of industries like automotive, construction, furniture, aerospace, etc. If your business needs smooth and perfect bends in tubes without any unwanted curves, you need to go for tube roller. As per tube roller manufacturers, there are several types of rollers like three roller benders, four roller benders, hydraulic tube roller, and manual tube roller.

#rubber roller #rubber rollers #bow banana roller #air expandable shaft #industrial rubber roller manufacturer #industrial rubber rollers

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zencoretechengineers · 1 year ago

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Top-Quality Rubber Bow Rollers from Zen Coretech - Smooth Operations Await!

Zen Coretech Engineers is a leading name in the industry, known for its expertise in manufacturing high-quality industrial components. As an esteemed air shaft manufacturer in India, Zen Coretech Engineers is committed to delivering top-of-the-line products that meet the stringent requirements of modern industrial processes. Our air expandable shafts are engineered to provide superior performance and reliability, making them a preferred choice among discerning customers seeking precision solutions for their operations.

When it comes to precision engineering, Zen Coretech Engineers excels in producing rubber bow rollers that set the standard for quality and durability. As a trusted rubber bow roller manufacturer, we understand the importance of consistency and accuracy in industrial applications, offering solutions that optimize performance and enhance operational efficiency.

In the realm of specialized rollers, Zen Coretech Engineers stands out with its innovative metal bow banana rollers, designed to cater to the unique needs of diverse industries. As manufacturers of metal bow banana rollers, we combine advanced technology with meticulous craftsmanship to deliver rollers that ensure seamless operation and superior product quality.

Trust in Zen Coretech for Air Shafts and Rollers Designed to Last

At air expandable shaft manufacturers, our dedication to precision and excellence extends to every product we manufacture. Whether you require air shafts, expandable shafts, rubber bow rollers, or metal bow banana rollers, you can trust Zen Coretech Engineers to provide solutions that meet your specific requirements with unmatched quality and reliability.

For all your industrial component needs, partner with Zen Coretech Engineers, your go-to source for precision-engineered solutions. Experience the difference with our range of products, including air shafts, expandable shafts, rubber bow rollers, and metal bow banana rollers, crafted to elevate your operational efficiency and performance. Trust Zen Coretech Engineers to be your reliable partner in achieving success through precision industrial solutions.

#air expandable shaft manufacturers #metal bow banana rollers #rubber bow roller manufacturer #air shaft manufacturer in India

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thevampireladyambrosia · 2 months ago

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Under Her Spell

Pairing: Fem!Siren x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Dubcon, oviposition / eggpreg, fear.

It's a violently stormy day. Rain pours down, harshly hitting your skin. You make your way towards the ocean, ignoring how dangerous this is. You could have swore you saw something. A creature of some sort. It appeared to be stuck in a net. So where was it now?

You scan the beach again. Over there! A mess of tail and fishing net. You make your way towards it. The cold wind cuts through your thin clothes. You should have grabbed a jacket. The rain and wind combination chilled you to your bones.

As you got closer, you could make out the thing more clearly. It had the upper half of a female human and the lower of a fish. A mermaid?

You were practically beside it when you realized your mistake. This was no mermaid. It was a fish type siren. You had heard tales of their danger. The bird sirens, the other type, had wiped out a whole ship recently. They were feared and not to be messed with.

But you were already here. She stared at you with surprisingly defeated eyes. You began to work to untangle her. She looked briefly surprised. She didn't fight you.

"I'm going to get you free," you assured her. You didn't know why, but you wanted to comfort her. After all, she was trapped in a net and vulnerable, even if she was dangerous.

You end up using a pocket knife to slice the cord constraining her. You had brought one just in case. You were grateful you did. You helped her to the water and let her swim away. You thought that was the end of it. You were wrong.

A few days later you walked the beach. The sun was setting, casting the sky in a brilliant orangish pink. You were wearing your bathing suit, intending to go night swimming. That's when you heard it.

In the distance came a beautiful voice. It was sweeter than spun sugar. You didn't process entering the water until you were already halfway to the voice.

As you drew closer you recognized the face of the creature that drew you out into the ocean. The siren you had saved. She sat upon a rock. As you approached She jumped off and swam out to meet you. When close enough, she drew you into her arms.

Her lips pressed against yours. They were soft and smooth. You melted into the kiss, the haze of the song fading away from your mind.

You panicked as she yanked you underwater. Surely you would drown, after all you couldn't breathe underwater. You held your breath desperately.

Until you couldn't hold it any longer. You inhaled deeply, expecting to feel the burn of salt water in your lungs. Except… you could breathe. It was different from breathing air, but just as simple. The siren simply giggled at you. You found yourself laughing, too.

Her lips pressed against yours again, this time more hungrily. You replied with equal passion. Slowly you were undressed. Almost like she was unwrapping a present she wanted to treasure forever. The song started again. You felt your mind turn hazy.

You felt something press against your slit, teasing the entrance. The song grew impossibly sweeter. The siren's ovipositioner sinks in without much resistance.

The next few minutes were pure bliss. You could have swore you had the best orgasms of your life. Eventually the siren pulled you closer, holding your body tight against hers.

The next sensations were odd but highly pleasurable. It's as if the base of her shaft expanded. Then, a small gelatinous object forced its way past your cervix and plopped into your fertile womb. This repeated until your stomach was heavily distended with the eggs.

You wake up the next morning on the beach next to your house. Your bathing suit was messily on. You would be walking again tonight, that's for sure.

#exophelia #teratophillia #monster fucker #monster x reader #female reader #siren #siren x reader #siren x human #ovipositor #ovi kink #ovi #dubc0n #minors dni #check content warnings

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syrenqinche · 30 days ago

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THE GOLDEN FOUNTAIN HEADCANONS ~ Caleb

content: smut|mdni, expanding on the golden shower kink, piss play, possessive colonel! caleb, f!MC, degradation, nasty af!

a/n: this is nasty guys, read at your own risk.

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✧.* So, the farspace fleet colonel is a very well reputed man, respected and looked up to by the masses. He is infamous for having no flaws and being the epitome of human perfection with his bravery, warm charisma and leadership. There is one sinister side to him though that the outsiders don't know about, and that is his nasty habit of relieving stress or anger by drenching you in his piss.

✧.* It started off as a one time thing, initially. It was after a particularly hard day at work where him and his squadron missed out retrieving some crucial intel. While he was already irritated, you were being difficult too, gossiping to him about a weird locker room conversation you had at work.

"The guys, they were joking about pissing on the weapons to mark them as their to use exclusively, like dogs. It was nasty. Caleb, are you listening?"

✧.* Caleb had had enough and stood up from the bed, pulling you towards the bathroom. He made you kneel inside the ceramic tub and stated only once, very clearly. "I'm beyond pissed off today, honey." He held you by the chin, unzipping his dress pants and popping the button with his other hand, removing his girthy shaft from under his boxers.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" you ask. You would, gladly.

"No, I want to just-" he purses his lips as a tiny trickle of fluid escapes from the tip of his dick and lands on your thighs. It leaves you stunned for a good minute as you piece together what Caleb really wants to do.

✧.* You nod at him after making up your mind and Caleb knits his brows together. "Stop me if- oh, god-" He lets go and a thick stream of yellow liquid bursts out of his dick, landing on your chest and soaking your shirt and pants. The pressure of the plentiful stream on your body does something to you - like a new sensation you never pictured before. You grab his cock to redirect some of it onto your face too, surprising Caleb. So, when you tell him you should incorporate this new-found kink into your daily lives, Caleb is more than happy.

✧.* Caleb now makes it a point to do it nearly every other day. It's become his go-to method to rid himself of negative emotions and to also make you hornier than ever. You once tried to take it all in your mouth, and once you made him aim the stream right inside your pussy. He'd happily oblige, discovering new ways to play with you using his golden piss.

"Since you love my piss so much, pip. You'll take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

"Need it all, Caleb. Give me all of it. Need to drink nghh."

✧.* You even graduated to pissing on him too. You'd lay on top of him, in a position similar to 69 and the two of would go simultaneously. Caleb would gasp for air as you emptied yourself on him, and you'd get your face drenched by the fountain coming out of his dick. When he couldn't pee anymore, you'd start sucking him off, hoping to somehow get more out of him.

✧.* The two of you would play this game where you'd see who could go longer without pissing. The loser gets to watch the other person pee on themselves and play with themselves without getting to touch any of it, no access to the piss, nuh-uh. Caleb is determined, he'd usually win this game.

✧.* After care involved a thorough shower session that would also invite steamy sex in the cubicle, but the two of you made sure your house never reeked of piss. After all, oftentimes, you'd host Caleb's squad or your colleagues over at your house. Little did they know the two of you were just holding your piss in, to shower it on the other later that night. <3

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tf-boi · 9 months ago

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Game Over

(Here's a story from one of the polls I made a while back. I hope you enjoy ;) The premise is me and my boyfriend keeps getting cock blocked by his little brother but tonight I get my revenge.)

"Mmmmm mmmmm" moaned Raymond making out with his boyfriend Sean. As they undress eachother their cocks became erect and rubbed against eachother.

Sean pulled off Raymonds underwear and released his musk into the room. With much anticipation he moves in on his meal. Suddenly a scream is heard.

"GODDAMMIT!!" Shouted Tony, Sean's brother, from across the hall. Raymond and Sean paused, kocked back into reality. They grinned and resummed. But as Sean began sucking Raymond off another scream echo'd. "MOTHER FUCKER!!"

Tony has been on a losing streak on his online game and nightly his loud screams would interupt Raymond and Sean's fun. The pair took another look at eachother when suddenly another scream was heard. "You guys suck!"

"Forget it! Moods killed . . ." Sean said tossing his hands in the air.

Raymond rolled his eyes "He's been like this NIGHTLY for a whole month. I'm gonna. . ."

Before Raymond could finish his thought Sean put his finger on his mouth. "Its okay Ray Ray, he'll probably fall asleep soon. . . We'll try again then."

"Uggghhhhh. . . But I'm already turned off by his screams."

"Damn. . . Guess we'll try again tomorrow. . ."

Raymond lied in bed annoyed. He wanted to get back at Tony for cock blocking him these passed few weeks. As Sean got up to go into the shower, Raymond saw that Sean was taking his phone with him. He then hatched a scheme knowing that his boyfriend is gonna be in there for at least an hour, when Sean takes his phone in he spends most of the time watching videos and laughing at memes so he had plenty of time.

As soon as Sean closed the door Raymond quietly got up and walked into the hallway in the nude. He approached Tony's room with a spare key they had incase of emergencies and unlocked his door. Raymobd peeked in and saw Tony shouting at his screen with his noise-canceling headphones on. "Perfect he can't hear me. . .little brat" he thought as he approached his prey. As he got behind Tony he realized he was playing naked, his computer and several screens heating up the room causing him to be too hot and stripped down. Raymond almost drooled as he grabs Tony all of a sudden. Tony's focus on his game was his downfall as Raymond rippes him from his chair and bent him over his bed.

"What the fu-" Tony tried to scream however Raymond covered Tony's mouth with his hands. Raymond pulls out Tony's 'lucky' butt plug from his ass and shoves his cock in. Tony tried to scream put Raymond put his hand over gis throat turning them hollow. Tony was confused as his body began to warm up with a lustful sensation. He stopped struggling as he fell to his bed almost succumbing to his fate, drooling as his mind goes blank. Raymond began focusing on the shape he wanted as Tony's limbs began to shrink and sink into him. His neck expanding as what looked like forskin surrounds his head. His body going from a flat human body to a thick round shaft. Raymond grabbed a pair of Tony's underwear and sniffed it as his victim slowly shrinks. Veins appearing as he throbbed. Soon Tony took his final shape as a thick juicy cock, Raymonds normal pubic hair changing to the light purple color of Tony's hair.

"Thats what you get for cock blocking bitch!" Raymond exclaimed in joy. He rubbed his new cock admiring his work. "Oh looks like you added a whole 6 inches! Thanks a lot bro!" Raymond began to jack off moaning in joy having to hold in his load nightly. Days of having to fuck various coworkers and clients in the office bathroom are now coming to an end. His jerking off was cut short as he heard an annoyed voice. "Ahem . . . What do we have here?" An annoyed Sean came into Tony's room. "B-babe?! You're done fast!" Raymond stuttered.

"I was out of shampoo so I just rinsed my body off" Sean said tapping his foot "I said not to do anything. What the hell man".

"Well. . . I was mad and couldn't think straight. Besides his mind is blanked out for at least another hour. So we can finally fuck in peace."

Sean raised an eyebrow.

Raymond got on Tony's bed and spread his legs, Tony's dick body presented in all its glory. "You know you want us . . ." Raymond said full of lust.

Sean rolled his eyes. "Sure but as punishment I'm gonna do all the work. . . You have to stay still".

"Fine. . ." Raymond sighed. He wasn't opposed to having Sean do all the work but now he can't go all out like he wanted.

"Now lie perfectly still love" Sean said suggestively.

Raymond lied down with Tony fully erect, his partially conscious mind throbbing at the sight of his older brother. Sean opened his mouth and stuffed his face with Raymond's giant cock. "MMmmm MMmmmm" Sean moaned as he envelope's his former brother with his mouth. "God he tastes so good~!" Sean thought. He sensed Raymond's legs trying to wrap around him, but he raised his finger and wagged it side to side, telling him, 'No you are just my sex slave today, no moving'. Sean continued to deep throat the massive rocket before him as he also gave Raymond a hand job. "Slurp slurp, gulp" Sean moaned as he sucked in all of Raymond's precum. "Uhhh uhhhh . . ." Raymond felt his tip being licked so that Sean can taste his new cock, even feeling the tip enter his shaft a bit. Raymond gripped the bed as Sean continued to go down on him. Sean's lips tighten around Raymond's dick as he moved his head back and forth, until he slid Tony's cock body out of his mouth.

Sean enjoyed his boyfriend's new cock in his mouth long enough. He turned around and shoved Raymond's dick into his ass and started riding him reverse cowgirl style. Raymond gripped Tony's bed and curled his toes as his boyfriend pounds his new dick full force with his plump bottom ass. "F-faster faster!" Raymond shouted as Sean tightened his ass cheeks and bounced up and down his former brother like a thick dildo. As Sean kept riding he felt himself fall over all of a sudden as Raymond couldn't hold back any longer. He got up and started fucking his boyfriend like a wild beast. "Uhhh uhhhh .. . no fair!" Sean moaned into the bed "But keep going!!!" He screamed as his ass gets destroyed by his boyfriend's new cock, underestimating how much length and girth his brother's body added to it when Raymond absorbed him. Raymond pounded Sean's ass faster and harder as the pair moaned. In the corner of Raymond's eyes he saw a pile of clothes Tony took off when he striped down. Raymond grabbed a sock and stuffed into Sean's mouth. Sean moaned as his ass gets destroyed with his brother's sock in him. The taste fill his mouth as the salty sweet feeling fills his mouth, with a hot mess filling his ass. Raymond grabbed Tony's underwear and gave it a big whiff as he fucked Sean. Sean cums multiple times, soaking Tony's bed with his seamen, however Raymond didn't care that his boyfriend finished, he kept fucking him until Raymond came 3 more times. After pounding his boyfriend for what felt like an hour, Raymond bent over his boyfriend and grabbed him as he released his load into Sean's ass. Gallons of cum fills his boyfriend's ass and expands his stomach. The pair kept cumming until they fall over and embrace. The two kiss and Sean looks at Raymond's now limp cock, cum still dripping out. "Looks like my little bro made a mess in me~" Sean said rubbing his stomach. The amount of cum in him made him look pregnant. "Yeah, I'm glad he was cock blocking us for so long, that release was amazing!" Raymond said stroking his cock.

All of a sudden Raymond's dick started moving a bit on his own.

"Uh oh, looks like Tony woke up babe!" Raymond snickered.

Sean bent over and gave Tony a little kiss on the tip. "Sorry little bro, your new body is amazing so you are gonna stay like that! At least until you made up for all the times you cock blocked us!"

Sean and Raymond snickered as they prepare for round two.

Tony stayed as Raymond's dick for several weeks where the pair fucked several times a day.

#cock tf #cock transformation #body transformation

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