#HE'S SUCH A GOOD FUCKING TAKE ON THE LAMB

[littlelamy]

love hangover

there you are again. same spot, same mistake, same fucking game.

it's always like this with rafe cameron. he doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to beg—just has to look at you with those dangerous, knowing eyes, and you’re done for. it’s a sickness, this thing between you two. a fever that never fully breaks, leaving you shivering in its wake, desperate for another hit of him.

he leans against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling up toward the dim light of the cheap motel lamp. that lazy, lopsided grin plays on his lips, the one that makes you feel stupid, like you should’ve known better than to come.

but you did.

“couldn’t stay away, huh?” his voice is sandpaper and honey, smooth but rough around the edges, like he’s already won whatever battle you thought you were fighting.

you want to tell him to go fuck himself, want to tell him you’re over it—over him—but your body betrays you, the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your pulse jumps when he moves closer. you hate the way he smells, like expensive cologne and cheap decisions.

you love the way he smells.

he exhales slow, watching you through the haze. “you want me to make you forget again?”

your breath hitches. it’s always like this. the push and pull, the venom and the cure. you hate him. you crave him. it’s a cycle you swore you’d break, but here you are, stepping into the room like a lamb walking straight into the slaughter.

he’s on you the second the door clicks shut.

lips bruising, hands rough, claiming you like he has the right. and maybe he does—maybe that’s the worst part. you let him. you always fucking let him. his mouth trails fire down your neck, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingers pressing into your ribs like he’s trying to map out every weak spot, every place that makes you come undone.

“missed this,” he breathes against your skin, and you hate the way it makes your stomach flip, the way your knees threaten to buckle. you shouldn’t be here. you shouldn’t want this. but when he presses you against the wall, his knee slotting between your thighs, the heat of him overwhelming—

you don’t care.

it’s a blur, how you end up on the bed, but fuck, it’s good. it always is. rafe fucks like he fights—dirty, desperate, like he’s got something to prove. his hands grip your hips, pulling you against him, his pace brutal, punishing, like he’s mad at you for leaving, mad at himself for letting you back in.

“this what you wanted?” he grits out, his breath hot against your ear.

you don’t answer—can’t. his hand finds your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath stutter, your body arching into him, wanting more, needing more. he chuckles, low and dark.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

his name is a broken prayer on your lips as he fucks you deeper, his grip unrelenting. you take it, you take all of it, the burn, the pleasure, the way he ruins you in the best fucking way. his mouth finds yours in a messy, desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue, a battle neither of you really want to win.

your nails rake down his back, and he groans, a delicious, guttural sound that makes your toes curl. he’s close. you can feel it in the way his rhythm stutters, the way his breathing turns ragged.

“come with me,” he mutters against your lips, and fuck—you do. you shatter, pleasure ripping through you, white-hot and blinding, and he’s right there with you, hips snapping forward, a strangled curse slipping past his lips as he spills inside you.

you stay like that for a moment, bodies tangled, chests heaving. his forehead presses against yours, and for a second, it almost feels like something softer, something real.

but then he pulls away. rolls onto his back. lights another cigarette. and just like that, the moment is gone.

the morning after is always the worst. the weight of your choices settles heavy on your chest, thicker than the hangover pounding behind your eyes. rafe is still asleep, his arm slung lazily across your waist, like he has the right. like this is something other than what it is.

you slip out of bed, his warmth lingering on your skin. your clothes are scattered across the floor, the evidence of another mistake, another night you won’t talk about. you dress quietly, heart hammering against your ribs, knowing you should leave before he wakes up, before he can pull you back under.

but you don’t.

because you know how this goes.

you’ll walk away, swearing it’s the last time. and then he’ll find you again, smirk that infuriating smirk, say something that makes your pulse jump.

and you’ll be right back here.

tannyhill is worse.

it’s his domain, his throne, and he drags you into every room like he’s got a claim on you. the kitchen, the study, even the fucking balcony—he has you pressed against every hard surface, taking him in breathless, needy gasps.

he ruins you on the billiard table, the felt burning against your skin as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. the library? your moans are swallowed between towering shelves as he bends you over the polished wood desk, hands fisted in your hair, wrecking you between leather-bound first editions.

rafe doesn’t let up, doesn’t let you breathe. he makes you forget why you ever wanted to leave, makes you addicted to the way he owns you in this house that should feel like a prison, but only chains you deeper to him.

“you’re mine,” he growls against your skin as he takes you again in his bed, the sheets tangled around your limbs, slick with sweat and sin.

you should fight it. but you don’t.

because you belong to him, whether you admit it or not.

same spot. same mistake.

same fucking game.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[joffyworld]

GSUHEHEHEH MUTTONNNNNN OHHHH YEEEEAAAAHHHHH

Folks in the server have been doing the ship meme so I wanted to shoot for it with my narilamb! This is of course far into the future of what I have planned but here are some notes

Due to their size, Liam is often the one who is the big spoon despite Nari's protests, both are extremely touch starved.

Liam is quicker to lend clothing while Nari steals them into his own tent to make a nest, the lion will never admit he likes the scent left along those robes and fleeces

Narinder does not find use in pet names, he will only address Liam by their name, "Lamb", or "Leader" usually, while Liam is much more affectionate and will often use pet names for their various partners like "dear", "darling", "doll", ect.

Both are quite introverted, of course the Lamb will attend to their flock and perform sermon, but aside from that can be just as aloof as the former God of Death.

Both are persons of few words...majority of their acts of affection will be through physical touch or gifts.

Narinder would take a crush to the grave if he could. Liam was the one to come to Nari about his feelings once they settled their differences.

Both kill bugs without hesitation.

Silly goofy the car cannot drive.

Narinder long forgot how to provide meals for himself after so many years going without food (This would prove to be an issue upon receiving Aym and Baal later), but Liam on the other hand is a constant reminder to the former god that his mortal form will require sustenance.

Once settled and comfortable with one another, both are extremely affectionate. Liam doesn't mind PDA in the slightest and will kiss and hold Nari at any moment, meanwhile the lion is more so doing this as an act of dominance, glaring daggers at the people of the flock to show the Lamb is his own.

Liam is of course the more protective one, having to show Narinder that though he is mortal, he is not invincible now. There are multiple occasions where the Lamb pulls him back from near death situations while outside on crusades together.

Narinder is no stranger to suitors and had many admirers before his fall to the Old Faith, but never acted on them due to his own stubbornness. The Lamb is quick to please if someone is interested in them by comparison, taking many spouses and partners as long as they are polyamorous like them, seeking to avoid jealousy.

As for the levels....

Thousands of years being restrained and suddenly being given a mortal body with hormones does things to a man. Liam is simply...a sheep, which are quite amorous creatures.

The Lamb doesn't find themselves in many awkward instances, often brushing off any feelings as such and moving on to different topics to push the conversation forward. Narinder, on the other hand, struggles with social interactions most of the time, hissing and swiping claws at anyone who slight inconveniences him.

Liam is not one to get jealous easy...there are rare occurrences during his rut season where things can get dicey, but for the most part they are the more level headed of the two. Narinder, however, is extremely jealous of anyone flirting or coming near the Lamb, feeling a right to the entirety of Liam's affection after everything he did to secure it. They squabble over this often, which just ends up in Nari curled around Liam with that tail flicking after tiring himself out during an argument.

[clownowo]

🤨

bonus:

[lil-vibes]

Hi! Sorry for notification spamming you but wanted to tell you that your TROD tags made me lol, I LOVE your art so much and I’m interested in your AU too. Anyway, love your blog!

P.S. maybe I missed it but you said somewhere that your Narinder was pretty messed up for a few years post revival. Could you give some more details on that? Did he try to hurt them? Who had to take care of him, the lamb? What’s been the downstream effects? Basically, how is this cat still messed up lol.

dont be! everytime i get a notification i go yuppiee!!! im glad you enjoy my art :DD

okay okay its prime yap time under the cut oof i love my fucked up cat sm

Lambert, mainly, took care of him! They made sure that every comfort he needed was provided and were worried out of their mind the entire time. Their disciples helped watch over Narinder when he was unconscious, just so he wouldn't bolt the moment he awoke, and Witness Allocer stitched some of his wound and prepared a special painkiller blend for him. (in my au the high priests, aka the mini bosses, and the witnesses were very close to the bishops! Allocer made the same painkillers for Shamura as well.)

Okay so obviously his wrists and ankles were pretty fucked up from being chained for a thousand years and he's got a lot of internal damage as well bc some of the chains went through him (og Stychu hc that I adopted bc it's so good). Also just general wounds from the final fight and the unfathomable pain of shrinking down from his godly form.

Upon being spared, he did attack them in a post battle adrenaline and hate fueled delirium, right on the indoctrination stone and not only broke his arm (bc he put too much weight on it), but probably gave himself a heavy concussions by slamming his head on said stone seconds after the break happened lmao. After waking up in,,, just a Haze of agony he tried to get up and run away bc he was scared that the lamb would just keep him existing in this special Purgatory and shattered his opposite calf so there's that as well. Unlucky tbh

He bleeds like,,, constantly. All of the time, for literal years on end. From his eyes mostly, but also nose and ears and he throws up ichor a lot in the beginning as well bc his body is adjusting rapidly to being smaller and there's just No Space for the ichor to go, other than out. He’s constantly exhausted and spends a lot of time sleeping, and is very frail physically, if snapping two bones by simply putting weight on them didn't make it obvious enough lol

All and all not a great shape to be in, but! His wounds aren't actually what caused him to be bedridden for so long. It was the fact that he no longer saw himself as a god while still being one and suffering injuries befitting of one!

His body/the Red Crown isn't healing him as much as it’s literally regenerating parts of itself while he suffers everything that comes with that, alongside being out of the Veil/Gateway for the first time in forever and emotionally dealing with the deaths of his acolytes and the supposed betrayal of the one he allowed himself to trust after his family. In fact, Narinder barely heals at all for a while bc he was just mentally stopping the process. And also unconscious for a lot of it.

The other big reason is that god hearts are a great power source, but his heart has been in Lambert's chest since Silk Cradle. So he is Struggling ™ but he’d actually rather die than take his heart back he’s a simp like that smh

After he inevitably breaks and he and Lambert finally talk, he gradually starts seeing himself as a person again and his healing process gets easier. He still has chronic pain for his joints but eventually everything else heals alright :3

On a side note, his siblings bleed excessively and are disoriented for the first couple of days but are ultimately fine within the week. They are kind of horrified to learn that their brother is STILL struggling with the side effects of his imprisonment

[kraviolis]

Belos: I’m going to raise Luz as my daughter and ensure that she remains pure and loyal to me.

Also Belos: I’m going to let the 7-years-old clone of my brother take care of her I’m sure he’ll be able to do that.

you joke but thats LITERALLY his entire thought process at first. he's so isolated and arrogant that he couldnt possibly comprehend the idea that luz wouldnt see him as her father despite the fact he literally told hunter he was going to be her older brother and never once encouraged hunter to see him as anything but an uncle.

i attribute this to the fact that philip is an orphan who only ever knew his blood brother as his only caretaker, so he sorta took having a brother for granted and didn't realize that was something you could want rather than something that just Is.

(also caleb was the only person philip ever truly knew + loved and even well into his 300s he never once picked up a child psychology book and realized that Perhaps His Worldview Was Skewed Because Of That.)

he literally like. could not comprehend the idea that you could even choose your own family outside of like. being adopted by someone. thats the other thing with him being so annoyingly christian in this AU, he was taught that your blood family (esp yr parents) is always the most important thing in your life & you should always be grateful to them no matter what.

(this is another factor into why he keeps making grimwalkers. in his own twisted viewpoint, it's him giving caleb another chance. and another. and another-- at least in this specific characterization of him.)

philip thought that him adopting luz would mean she would immediately be eternally grateful to him and call him father and the whole nine yards. but he forget to actually express that expectation until it was too late (aka until he heard her call him uncle for the first time)

honestly, hes not MAD about it. he's just sorta :( about it bcus hes not actually insane and can still logically think like "she did say she had just lost her real father to an illness its perfectly reasonable for her to not want to replace him" (he doesnt think it outloud but he also enjoys living thru her vicariously

but also later on as she gets older it gets to a point where he's like "ok its been years now why isnt she trying to replace him yet" bcus he thinks its a normal + healthy part of the grieving process to replace the person you lost (figuratively or, in his case, Literally)

[teaboot]

Kinda gotta admire the tiktok instagram cottagecore tradwife hoes a little bit.

Like. THEY know that the perfect pretty obedient natural-makeup gently-coiffed rural June Cleaver, barefoot-and-pregnant in a sweet little peasant dress, baking fresh bread24-7 housewife doesn't exist.

They KNOW she doesn't exist. They know she CAN'T exist- that nobody can maintain that façade without burning out eventually-

but they also know that the political divide between men and women is deeper than ever in North America, that men as a demographic are getting increasingly angry and conservative and lonely (fuck off terfs and radfems i can sense your bioessentialism coming), and that women aren't legally beholden to them anymore.

This is one of the first generations in North America where women aren't entirely reliant on finding a husband and keeping him happy to survive, to hold a bank account or live apart from their parents, and so what men are dealing with is several hundred years of being told that REAL men have hot fuckable agreeable wives and...a present reality where nobody is lining up to apply for that position.

So what these shills have done- and they ARE shills- is that they've seen that divide, that niche that isn't being filled, that role that's so unpleasant but so desired- and they've constructed a caricature for profit.

Women aren't naturally more gentle, or parental, or submissive. Women aren't naturally, effortlessly smooth and soft and hairless and desiring of simple tasks to fill their time and a big, strong provider to protect them.

But generations of marketing and media have told us it's POSSIBLE, if not for those pesky man-hating feminist libs and their oversensitive woke culture lashing out at Normal Folks for no good reason.

Like- they're selling themselves, the characters they're playing, as an IMAGE, as a FANTASY, and they rely on people BELIEVING in that fantasy to keep the money rolling in.

The people who buy into it sincerely, the women who give up their degrees and careers and financial freedom for this "simple, peaceful life" we ALL desire in some form, away from stress and technology and horrible things on the news... only to get trapped with six children and a partner with all the power who could up and strand them at any moment... they're just collateral.

Like, "Shame it didn't work out for you, have you tried losing weight and trying harder? Maybe some extra Adult Time? He wouldn't have to chase someone younger and prettier if you'd just take care of yourself and put out more."

I on't hate this faux-humble faux-simple wannabe-amish bullshit just because I grew up rural and know it's fucking stupid, hard work and blood and shit and cow piss and placement in the rain kinda crap.

I ALSO hate it because these women are straight-up class traitors, selling off not just their own image as people, but everyone else's, just to make some paper on a grift.

You know Marie Antoinette used to wear sweet little milkmaid-style dresses and play with lambs in the field, just like the poors?

Never mind that she OWNED the land, and the field, and the people, the cute little frocks, and didn't help the sheep birth, or bury the dead premies, or slaughter for meat, or fight off wolves and dogs, ferrets and foxes and rats with a stick in the winter.

It was just fashionable to pretend.

Sweet and coquettish and Quaint.

THAT is why I hate that shit, and THAT is why I give a fuck.

[monstersholygrail]

Demon Priest tells one of the lost lambs of his congregation to go in peace and they thank him endlessly as they leave. The door of the confessional clicks once as it opens and clicks again at its close. A beat of silence fills the wooden box of absolution.

“Now what do you say, little dove?” Demon Priest raps in your ear, his clawed hand still tightly wrapped around your mouth.

When it slips away the first thing to fall past your lips is a cry of ecstasy as Demon Priest’s other hand keeps helping you bounce on his cock. Fat tears fall down your cheeks as he keeps you right on the edge. You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, having lost track of the time, drowning in the feelings coursing through you.

“Thank you, Father,” you murmur, speech slurred as if drunk off his cock. Moans lewdly spill from your mouth now that you’re free to do so, your hips swiveling on his cock to best set your nerves aflame.

Demon Priest chuckles, leaning back against the confessional wall, and watching as your fat pussy eagerly sucks his cock back inside you and splitting you open on his length. He knows you two need to be quiet, the walls are nearly paper thin… but your sweet sounds are more divine than any choir or church bell.

“Always so loud f-for me, fuck, angel,” Demon Priest hisses, his hips jerking forward as if trying to get as deep inside you as inhumanly possible.

You cry out loudly, tears pricking at your waterline. He’s making you feel so fucking good you can barely take it, the pleasure too powerful. How the hell could you keep quiet? Still, your chest pinches with panic, your emotions so all over the place that your tears begin to spill over.

“‘M sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you blubber out through your tears, repeating your apologizes and begging for forgiveness.

Darkness coils through Demon Priests chest, his eyes flashing and face shifting more demonically at the thought of you needing to ask for forgiveness. You’re perfect. A precious gift that can do no wrong. His claws dig into your soft belly and his jaw clenches. In the blink of an eye he’s molding his chest to your back, growling in your ear.

“Never. Apologize,” Demon Priest snarls in your ear, jaw snapping in warning. You shiver as his words wash over you and they make you even more needy for him. “Nothing you ever do could be a sin.”

His large hands wrap around your wide hips, his feet bracing on the ground, and helping him jackhammer his cock up into your sopping pussy. You can feel the truth ring in his words, showing how deeply he believes them. The realization should be concerning but instead you find your back arching into him, head rolling back onto his shoulder so he can sink even deeper along your walls.

Your orgasm builds and builds with each brutal thrust. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet at this point, your body no longer in your control. Everything is in Demon Priest’s nurturing hands. Your body burns hot with need, the coil in your belly sizzling and ready to snap. It only takes one more solid stroke of his cock and your vision flashes white as your pussy milks his cock for all it’s worth.

A fierce scream is on the tip of your tongue when suddenly the door to the confessional opens once more. Your heart nearly jumps into your throat and a second later Demon Priest is slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you simply can’t stop. He draws you into his broad chest, rocking his hips, and helping work you through your explosive orgasm as you tremble in his embrace.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” the unknown figure speaks as they sit down on the other side. A wicked grin slides across his lips and your eyes roll back in pleasure at the sight.

Demon Priest doesn’t stop the slow rolling of his hips and your breath catches realizing he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. No, he’s gonna keep working you through each release as he talks his parishioners through each of their sins.

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

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

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

kinktober 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ Lɪᴛᴛʟᴇ Lᴀᴍʙ ໒꒱˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆ — Summary: You could feel his cum from the previous rounds sloshing around in your gut, the excess bubbling out with each thrust.

“Who said you can rest, little lamb?”

Sukuna lifted your limp body with ease, his nails kissing your hips as he held your abused hole above his thick cock. The king of curses cum drooled from your aching cunt, making quite the mess on his lap, “Is this really the best your body can do? How disappointing.” He mocks, “We were only just getting started.”

His lips pulled into a sharp grin as his third hand tightened around your thigh to spread your leg wider for him. The tip of his cock teasing your opening, pushing into the sloppy mess your body was.

You were so tired… So, so tired… Sore, and exhausted.

You had lost count of how many times you came and how many times Sukuna did. But you still couldn't help but cry out as he impaled you on his beautiful veiny cock once again, your head lolled back before your body slumped forward onto his chest, “Ahhh~♡ Su-Sukuuuna~ Th-e tip of y-your dick and n’my cervix are touching n’kissing each other~~~♡ Aahh~ It h-hurts so s’good~! Y-Yur gonna rip m-my n’insides~ ♡ Aaahha~”

A low growl rumbled in Sukuna’s chest at your words as he started bouncing you on his cock, “What a good little thing. Taking me so well, the perfect little prey.”

Your breast, smushed so wonderfully against his chest, rubbed against his warm skin with each thrust, and he could feel how those cute perky nipples had gotten hard against him, “even though I’ve had my fun so many times now, you still react so nicely, still so tight- perfect for breaking still” his slick tongue licks against your cheek, lapping at the sweat that drenched your lovely flushed skin, “it almost feels like my cock is being strangled.”

Your arms wrapped around your kings neck, and you held on tight, trying your best to match his pace and movements, your insides stretched and stuffed, the head of his cock hitting the entrance of your womb with each bounce, “s’too rough. M-my insides ngh~ a-are being bullied~ ♡ I- I feel like I'm gonna diee~ aahh~! ♡♡ Y-you're g-gonna break m-me for reeeeal~♡” You could feel his cum from the previous rounds sloshing around in your gut, the excess bubbling out with each thrust.

The man- the curse knew how to make you break, knew how to make those pretty eyes of yours glaze over and roll into the back of your skull until delicious tears dripped down your cheeks. Knew how to make those soft little noises come from your lips as you were fucked dumb.

“I would never allow that, lamb. What fun would I have if you were dead before i had my fill fully?” His hand loosened around your leg and slid up your body, the tip of his fingers brushing against your skin, his eyes narrowing, “Besides, if you were to die, who would let me have my fill? And then, who would make such delicious noises just for me?”

You were unable to respond, his thrusts too much for your poor mind… Unable to feel the way his arms were now securely wrapped around you, keeping you close. How All four of his arms curled protectively against your back, or the soft way his eyes gazed at you…

You were unable to see just how gentle and caring his expression was as he fucked you. How the way his mouth parted, how his teeth that had previously torn through your flesh and left behind bloody, purple marks, now glistened with saliva as he whispered, cooed and moaned, sweet words just for you, his little lamb… Yes, you were without a doubt his, the one who came to him and gave him your life and body.

His sweet, lovely, little lamb.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'dirty little secret' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself. (1.2k) tags: filthy, established relationship/situationship or smth idk, scent kink ig, age gap implied, sniffing panties, logan jerks off into readers underwear, sends reader a dick pic, for the 'scent' prompt for logan promptober.

the filthiness of it all only adds to his insatiable arousal, the dirty older man sniffing your damp panties as he gets off - you're so oblivious, oblivious to the wolf pining for his lamb. he'll take what he can get when you're not around, normally settling for a picture of you on his cheap flip phone. . . panties though? now that's a real treat.

it's the same every damn time. you leave and he misses you. his apartment feels cold and empty. a stark contrast to just a few hours prior, your head thrown back in ecstasy, his name slipping from your lips and echoing around the four walls.  logan grins at the memory, sighing softly. he'll see you again soon.

but not soon enough.

that's when the scent caught his attention, the distinct and undeniable smell of his woman. of you. your scent often lingered, logan revelling in it, but this was. . . different. you've left something behind.

and he intends to find it.

his nose twitches, snout high in the air as he follows the trail eagerly like an animal, seeking his prey. his boots stop abruptly by his bed, kneeling as he peers behind the frame.

logan's eyes light up the moment they land on your pretty pink panties. you've left a gift behind for him, how kind of you. he reaches out, grabbing the material, grinning when he rubs his thumb and forefinger against the fabric. still damp, fuck.

and he knows he shouldn't, it's a little wrong, a little dirty, but what's logan if not a little depraved? you wouldn't mind, not really, you probably did this on purpose. the thought of you dashing from his apartment in nothing but a stupid short skirt worn specifically to tease has him groaning - he's probably dripping out of you right this very second, down along your soft plush thighs for anyone to see.

so, he nestles into his bed, laying back with your panties hand. he crooks an arm behind his head, simply watching, feeling the silk brushing against his skin. and that scent. . . god, that fucking scent. he inhales deeply, the clear smell of your arousal making him go crazy, his cock twitching needily in his underwear.

bringing the cloth to his nose, he closes his eyes and inhales. his cock twitches angrily again as he exhales shakily, becoming oh so intoxicated by the addicting aroma of your sweet little cunt. you always smelled so fucking good, his mind wandering, getting lost in visions of his nose buried deep in your pussy, eating you like a man deprived.

"fuck. . ." logan hums into your panties, his free hand snaking along his white tank, tracing over his belt buckle to palm his growing bulge. he's so hard already. this is what you do to him, every damn time. have him acting up, acting like an animal with a primal desire to take you, hard and deep. but you're not here. so all poor logan can do is satisfy himself while high out of his mind on your scent.

the metal of his belt buckle rings out in the air as it's tossed aside, freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. he spreads his legs just a little, glancing down at the outline of his thick cock in his boxers. logan can't help but grin, how easy it was for him to get worked up with just a pair of panties and some thoughts.

his hand sneaks beneath the waistband and pulls out his throbbing length, groaning at the skin-on-skin contact as he pushes your pretty little panties against his face. the tip is leaking, his cock begging for you.

giving a few gentle strokes, logan's eyes roll back, the combined sensation of his hand and your scent so potent against his nose has him falling apart. he pictures you, how you leaked against this cute pink material, probably hoping he wouldn't notice. but he notices it now, with his nose buried deep in the cloth.

"dirty girl," he growls, large hand pumping lazily on his cock, "left your fuckin' panties behind on purpose huh?" his voice whispers into the empty bedroom, silent save for the sound of his strokes. "bet you wanted me to find 'em, wanted me to lose my mind findin' 'em all wet."

the filthiness of it all only adds to his insatiable arousal, the dirty older man sniffing your damp panties as he gets off - you're so oblivious, oblivious to the wolf pining for his lamb. he'll take what he can get when you're not around, normally settling for a picture of you on his cheap flip phone. . . panties though? now that's a real treat.

you're spoiling him, really. hand working himself faster as precum beads at his tip, nuzzling against the fabric as he snarls. he's close already, mind ablaze and body on fire from those beautiful pheromones of yours.

he grabs his dick harder, every vein throbbing angrily, desperate for release as he pumps himself, hips rising to thrust into his fist. your name finds its way out of his lips when he brings your panties down to wrap around his cock, fucking into the material.

"that's it. . ." he barks, "oh ffffffuck, that's it. . ."

he's gonna cum, gonna cum all over your little pretty pink panties, gonna make such a mess, stain them real good with his release. you'd like it too, maybe he'd invite you over again later just to watch you cum in them. fuck, you'd look good like that, sitting in ruined panties, all because of him, because of your man.

the cloth strains as his dick fucks against it, ripping slightly with his aggressive thrusts. can't help it, needs release too badly, can't focus on anything else. it's not as good as feeling himself sink into your soft, wet pussy, but god it feels fucking good all the same.

and then, he feels it, the warmth pooling in his gut. he's gonna cum, and it's gonna be hard, and loud. he's filled with the insatiable need to explode, wishing it was all over your face or. . . no, inside - fuuuck, he wants to cum inside you so badly. he watches as the fabric stretches across his tip, fucking into it like it's you, because it smells so much like you.

logan calls your name as white hot ropes of cum spurt from his twitching cock, escaping through the material, droplets landing on his fuzzy tummy while his vulgar thoughts run wild. he works himself through it, stroking himself through his dizzying release as every stiff muscle in his body settles.

he sighs, exhaling as he melts further into his sheets. logan lifts your panties from his softened length, smirking at the remnants of the tattered cloth, dripping with his cum. you won't be wearing these again, but that's alright, logan's already forming plans to take you lingerie shopping. this can't be a one-time thing.

reaching over for his phone on the bedside table, he flips it open, his smirk widening as he finds your number. he's not one for texting, doesn't really appeal to him. but in that moment, as he snaps a pic of his cock with your wrecked, cum soaked panties wrapped around the thick shaft, he wonders if he might have a new tradition.

' leave a blue pair next time. ' he types, and hits send.

[sloaneispunk]

“ darlin’ ”

teacher!in-ho x you (mdni 18+) 💋ྀིྀི

when a sweet girl walks into his class, in-ho couldn’t resist making her his

🍒⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 🍒⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🍒

it was the start of a new year, in-ho was the newest teacher. within days, he had fellow teachers, students, everyone pining on him. he knew it and he took pride in it.

he never paid any mind to any of them though, because his eyes was set on a particular student. someone so sweet and adorable, he was like a bee attracted to honey.

in-ho knew whatever facade you were putting up was for him and him only, it was obvious. you would frown at any boy who gave you looks, but when he did it, you gave him an innocent smile. it was as if you were so naive you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

fuck, you were driving him crazy.

the cute patterned clothes you wore, the small bows in your hair. you were like a lamb walking right into the slaughter house.

after weeks of keeping his dick in his pants, jerking off only when you were gone, he had enough. he wanted you, and he wanted you now.

in-ho had planned it out meticulously, getting you to stay behind after class when all your friends had left, leaving you alone with him as he licked his lips hungrily.

“did i do something wrong?” your sweet voice echoed in his ears, it was enough to make an old man like him collapse on the spot.

“no, darling. c’mere, yeah?” he beckoned, pushing his chair away from his desk, inviting you over.

you knew what he was doing and you loved it.

“if i didn’t do anything wrong, why did you ask me to stay behind?” you questioned, taking your place between in-ho and his desk, trapping yourself exactly where you wanted to be.

“you’re so sweet, darlin’.” he cooed, playing with the him of your dress as you giggled.

“you think so?”

“yeah… so, so sweet.” he sighed, looking into your eyes as you tilted your head confused. “sit here.”

you looked down to where he was patting, his lap. a cheeky grin crept onto your face as you complied.

“now, i have a problem.” he started, hands now twirling with your hair.

“what is it?”

“you’ve made a poor old man like me so on edge, hm?”

“you’re not that old.” you laughed, making him chuckle.

“take a guess.”

“forty?” he tutted.

“older.”

“forty seven?” you guessed, but he shook his head.

“getting close.”

“fifty three?”

“fifty four, sweetheart.” he corrected you as your breath hitched. “does it bother you?”

“not at all.” you whispered, leaning closer to him.

you could feel the heat coming off of him, he was so warm, so inviting. sure, this man could be your dad with the age he was at but damn did he look good.

“doesn’t bother you that your teacher is crazy for you?” he hummed. you could smell the cigarettes in his breath, overwhelming your mind, making you dizzy.

no, you shook your head.

“what a sweet girl, huh? do you know how down bad you’ve made me?”

no, you shook your head once more.

“of course you don’t, there’s nothing going on in that little head of yours.” he joked, tapping your forehead, making you laugh.

what have you done? you were going down a dangerous path with the only man you should have never done such a thing to in the first place. you knew from that moment, that in-ho was serious about keeping you his. it made you worry what he would do if you crossed paths with any other boy in the school.

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Luo Bingge discovers that Shen Jiu had a long-lost half-brother or something, and subsequently decides that he's going to infiltrate the minor sect which this "Shen Yuan" belongs to in order to get close to him and then indulge in revenge fantasy 2.0 when it inevitably turns out that Shen Yuan is like Shen Jiu (i.e. a horrible abusive scum teacher).

So Bingge uses some magical object or technique or other, makes himself look like a scrawny 12-14 year old, then puts himself in Shen Yuan's path in hopes of convincing the man to take him on as a disciple. The idea being that after Shen Yuan abuses him, Bingge will be justified in reenacting his Shen Qingqiu Revenge Arc again and maybe finally feeling some closure about the whole thing.

Yes, this is a very deranged plan. No, no one is going to tell the emperor of the three realms that. Bingge also wants it to be clear that this has nothing whatsoever to do with his recent escapade in an alternate universe, except that he was inspired to find Shen Jiu's relative as a consequence of that. But he's absolutely sure that this guy is going to turn out just as rotten as his brother, given the opportunity. That is definitely the only reason he is doing this!

Flash forward about four years. Bingge's retainers are begging on their knees for him to actually come back and do some administrative work. The harem is running itself at this point and they're all very terrified of the situation with Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing (i.e. ruling with lesbian iron fists) and whatever the heck Ning Yingying is up to (no one is certain but it's something). The outer provinces are rebelling. Mobei Jun's somehow found another weird human surnamed Shang to cavort with, except this one is basically running admin for the entire northern kingdom now and no one's even sure if they're fucking or if it's some kind of mind control situation or what.

Bingge is annoyed. He doesn't have a good explanation for why a bunch of demon lords would be showing up on the doorstep of Tiny Cultivation Sect to beg him for anything. They're going to spoil his cover! And they're interrupting his schedule! It's already four o'clock and he hasn't started on Shizun's dinner yet! Shoo! Get lost!

Anyway, eventually some of his demon followers get desperate and dramatically kidnap him. Shen Yuan is horrified and grieved when it seems that his precious disciple, so like white lotus Luo Binghe from the novel, has been captured by demons. He tries to track the assailants down, but they've covered their tracks too well. In the end, there's only one path left to him to pursue: taking this matter to the protagonist!

Yes, the protagonist! Because the thing is, Shen Yuan noticed the similarities between his disciple and the book character he so admired. Not only that, but he did manage to glimpse Bingge one time from afar. It wasn't anywhere near to a real interaction, but it was enough for him to notice the strong resemblance between the protagonist and the mistreated little lamb who showed up at his doorstep. A resemblance for which there can only be one explanation:

Shen Yuan's disciple is one of Binghe's kids!

Yes, he had it figured out since fairly early on. Not only was there a resemblance, and not only were their dispositions quite similar, but also the boy showed a lot of signs of some demonic heritage. Shen Yuan was just working up to broaching the subject, partly because he had been trying to avoid any direct or even indirect interactions with the emperor, and partly because he... became somewhat reluctant to part ways with his student. Sue him! He got attached! And anyway, he knew how missing child plots usually went. There was probably someone in the harem who was out for his disciple's blood, and it wouldn't be safe to send him back into that mess until he was strong enough to look after himself.

But as is inevitable, the plot seems to have reclaimed Shen Yuan's student all on its own.

He just... needs to make sure that it isn't a tragic outcome. It seems it falls on him to make the emperor aware of his son's survival, and subsequent peril, and help launch a rescue!

Which also means approaching Luo Binghe in person, which he knows is very risky indeed, due to his connection to the infamous Shen Qingqiu! He'd been avoiding the protagonist at all costs for that exact reason.

But if it's his only hope of rescuing his disciple, he will simply have to take the risk, and hope that enough time has passed that Luo Binghe doesn't read too much into a shared surname and a passing resemblance. Or that restoring the emperor's long-lost son to him will be worth seem lenience for the crime of being connected to Shen Qingqiu. Maybe if he's lucky, he will even be allowed to continue visiting his disciple! (Ha, yeah right! More likely, Luo Binghe's going to take his head for hiding his own kid from him for so long!)

Anyway, cue Luo Bingge running around swapping between his Emperor and Disciple forms, dramatically trying to orchestrate a situation where he can fake the emperor's death and go back to the sect with Shizun as his disciple, or something, only for it all to blow up in his face because Shen Yuan keeps flinging himself between Bingge and potentially fatal threats that could plausibly kill him???

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

thinking about roomie!suguru, who steps out of the bathroom with just a towel hanging loosely around his waist. it's dangerously low and his happy trail is... leading your eyes to a forbidden place. water droplets cascade down his temple and his neck, his scarred chest and his toned muscles.

he finishes drying his hair with another, smaller towel before slinging it over his shoulder. he gives you a warm smile. there's still a bit of sleep in his tired eyes but he looks fresh, he looks good.

(he looks more than good.)

the morning light shines in through the small window of your shared kitchen and he hums at the smell of coffee. you're an angel leaning on the counter, hands busy with preparing your drink as he steps inside.

he chuckles. he asked you a question but you didn't hear it. he smells so fucking good; the smell of his shampoo and his fancy conditioner wash over your senses and it's easy to forget where you are. his eyes flick behind you before walking over to you with a smug little grin.

he bores his sharp purple eyes into yours – he loves how you react to him. he doesn't shy away from it, he's cockier than he looks. he loves the attention, he loves to be in your spotlight. he wouldn't care so much if you were a stranger, if you were a random person on the street ogling away, ut you're neither of those things, are you? no, you're something else.

he exudes warmth as he towers over you, his head tilted down to keep his eyes on you. he wants to play with you a little – he loves the way you're staring up at him right now. eyes big and wide, lip tucked under between your teeth. he's good with people, he can read them like a book and you're no different. he sees you swallow a dry lump, he sees you grace him with a flustered smile as you try to brush by the fact that he caught you admiring him red handed. he sees the way you're taking deeper breaths than normal, surely just to keep your composure. he can't wait to break you.

his arm reaches behind you to turn off the coffee machine with a small click.

"wouldn't wanna make a mess this early in the morning, now would we?"

melting. crumbling. falling down to your knees. you hate how much he teases (you love it), you hate how patronizing he sounds (it's hot). he's the only one that can get away with it – a charming smile that hides his deepest desires of sinking his teeth into little lambs like you, soft eyes that hide the need to watch them unfold before him.

his gentle hands long to hold, long to keep and covet. he thinks about you a lot; your shared mornings and afternoons, your exhausted naps and bitter rants about your days. shy gazes and lingering touches, stupid jokes and the cute little hidden sounds he keeps hearing from your room in the late hours. he's being patient, he's warming you up.

he's just as infatuated with you as you are with him. he's just more subtle with it.

or is he?

because you've heard him, too.

you don't know whether he's doing it unknowingly or he's actually trying to make you go insane – whichever it is, you are ready to bend at his will. soft groans accompanied by a steady slick pump; you didn't mean to listen in. you just wanted to make sure he's okay!

ear against the wooden door, you listened to him think about you. your name was on the tip of his tongue, but it was too early for that. he wants to smear you with his honey, he wants to drag you in but he needs to wait for it. this is perfect.

he did know you're were there.

he heard the floor creak, he heard the cutest gasp that left your pretty lips. fuck, you're perfect. his head was lolled back as he stroked himself to the thought of your wide, doe-eyes. how flustered you'd be, how flustered you were in that very moment. he imagined your trembling hands and your stuttered words and his dick twitched in his palm.

he thought about inviting you in and just making him watch as a form of punishment, for being a little pervert. he shuddered out a laugh and watched a glob of pre-cum cover his own fingers before mixing with the saliva and spit that's covering him already. he thought about making you sit between his legs so he could jerk off right in front of your beautiful face, he thought about your wobbly lips, your teary eyes. the way your thighs would press together.

your fingers would itch and twitch and he'd make you place them on your legs. he wouldn't want you to touch. yet. maybe he'd make you apologize and maybe he'd make you kiss the tip. he thought about how good you'd smell, how good you'd taste. another raspy groan crawled up his throat and you were about to cum untouched behind his door. like a creep.

he loves it. he's proud of you, he wants to push you even further. he wants to see what else he can make you do. this is exciting and he can't wait to devour you whole as a reward after he's done bullying himself into your body and your mind. utterly loved and corrupted—

— you're meant for him.

[tommydarlings]

The little lamb and the big bad wolf | m.v

pairing: dom!max verstappen x sub!virgin!reader

warnings: smut, taking virginity, size kink, brief mention of a blowjob

w/c: 1.1k

summary: you always thought that you would stay an innocent virgin forever, but as soon as the big bad wolf — max verstappen — got his hands on your so far untouched skin, he couldn’t resist his desire to destroy the little innocent lamb. (based off of this request)

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As you looked up at max from your place on your knees, he could have came right away, messily decorating your face with the white liquid.

“Is that right, maxie?“ you bit your lip as your small hand continued pumping his big and slick erection, glassy eyes briefly glancing at his cock before you looked back up at him.

Your boyfriend groaned deeply as he caught your gaze, “That’s perfect baby, you’re doing so so so good for me,“ his big palm caressed your cheek.

For a quick second, you proudly smiled, trying your best to bite back a little giggle while your hand continued pumping him.

Slowly, you leaned forward and collected some spit in your mouth before you opened your mouth, sticked your tongue out and let it drop down onto his already wet tip,

Max threw his head back, hand now leaving your heated cheek and tightly gripping your hair, fingers tangling themselves painfully into your roots, “Oh fucking hell, baby… just like that… where have you got that from? Fuck,“ he moaned, eyes squeezed shut as you felt his hand trembling on the top of your head.

You smirked before you gave his leaking tip a tiny kitten lick, eyes closely watching him, “was it okay? Did it feel good?“ you asked in a shy manner.

Max immediately nodded, “Everything you do feels good,“ he mumbled in a raspy tone while you kissed his tip, your lips only softly grazing his leaking tip before he suddenly pulled your head away, making you nervously look up at him.

He caressed your cheek again, brushing some hair out of your face with his other hand, “don’t worry baby… everything‘s fine,” he reassured you before he continued, “just get on the bed for me, okay?“

You slowly nodded and stood up, quickly catching max smirking as he noticed how red your knees were before you laid down onto your back on the bed you two share, but max shook his head,

“Hands and knees baby… and turn around, face into the direction of the headboard, yeah?“

You gulped but quickly nodded before you got on your hands and knees, jumping a bit as you felt him behind you, his big palms caressing your hips and waist before one of his hands ran over your back before it reached the back of your neck.

Very slowly, his hand forced your head down by the back of your neck, giving you no other chance than to bury your head in the bedsheets as your hands already fisted the soft material next to your head.

Max positioned himself behind you, his leaking tip already touching your entrance,

“Shh, baby…“ his fingers ran along your neck and shoulders before he pressed your further down into the pillow by the back of your neck,

“Relax, it’s okay… everything's okay because I’m here and I won’t hurt you, okay? You understand that?“

You gulped before you nodded, “y-yes.“

He nodded as well, “good girl,“ he whispered to you before he slowly entered you from behind, making you grip the sheets harder and gasp in a high pitched tone into the pillow as you felt his slick cock filling you up.

You hissed, tears shooting into your eyes, “Oh god…max-” you gasped in a high pitched tone as you felt his long member filling you up, one hand holding you down by the back of your neck while his other big hand was fisting the pillow right next to you.

Max chuckled before he groaned, “How does it feel, baby? Tell me how it feels,“ he whispered.

You gulped, hands fisting the sheets harder, breathing picking up as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, “I-I feel so full, you f-fill me up so much, g-god!“

Max's hand caressed the back of your neck in a gentle manner, taking you by suprise before he slid it forward to your chin, slowly lifting your head up,

“You’re feeling it, huh? You feel me filling that tiny hole of yours, hmm?“ he looked down at you, his thumb stroking your jaw, “I can feel it too… and god you’re tight,“ he let his head drop forward, his forehead now gently laying on top of your head as he groaned deeply.

Max noticed how you squeezed your eyes shut and whined in a high pitched tone, “You always thought that you’re gonna be a virgin forever, huh? That you’re gonna be the pretty little innocent angel, hmm?“ he nudged the back of your head with his nose.

You bit your lip as his hip movements sped up, hitting your walls harder with each thrust as his words made you glare up at him, your hands shaking as they fisted the sheets harder,

“But then you met me… the big bad wolf,“ he chuckled, his thumb caressing your jaw in an almost gentle manner, “the big bad wolf who picked the poor little lamb up and showed her that she can’t be a perfect saint forever,“ he let his hand slide down to your throat, lightly choking you as you felt a foreign feeling creeping up,

“M-Max… I don’t k-know…“ you squeezed your eyes shut again, tears running down your red cheeks, “I think I’m-” you took deep breaths, feeling how your stomach tightened itself, almost like an uncomfortable knot that simply wanted to be released.

Max nodded along your words, “You’re gonna cum for me, I know… I can fucking feel it,“ he groaned, also squeezing his eyes shut, his hip movements not as quick anymore but way harsher, forcing little whines out of you.

“Can I-I?“ you gasped, “should I?“ you bit your lip, almost making it bleed.

Max immediately nodded, his lips grazing your ear as he put his other hand onto your waist, bending your body a bit more so he could hit the perfect spot.

“Oh my g-god, max!“ you screamed, breaking down and falling face forward into the bedsheets as you felt yourself letting go all over his cock, making you see stars.

Max continued fucking you in a rough manner, not stopping until he notices that you’re probably already so far gone that you’re barely even feeling anything by now.

He brushed some strands of hair out of your sweaty face, “There you go baby, now you’re not that pretty little virgin anymore,“ he kissed the top of your head, “now you’re a dirty, broken lamb that handed her sweet innocence to the big bad wolf on a pretty silver platter,“ he whispered from behind your laying figure.

Max leaned down and kissed your shoulder and you could have sworn that you felt him smirking,

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,“ he mumbled deeply.