#THIS IS FILTHY SORRY

[anincompletelist]

happy smutsgiving! :D

had no idea this was a thing but figured I'd share here in the final stretch of the day kjshdkjhs. as the title suggests, this is NSFW! 18+ only please.

here's a scene from hitman au! I hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving! <3

+

“Your fucking mouth, sweetheart,” Alex grunts, his head tossed backward into the wall, “should be illegal. How much time do you think we have before someone comes looking for you?” 

“Mm, probably, like, half an hour?” Henry mumbles where Alex’s pulse is still caught between his teeth. “Maybe less if they finish up dinner early.” 

“Gonna have to make this quick then, hm?” 

Quick? In the past when Henry’d managed to get this far with someone they’d frantically gotten each other off with their hands and then promptly redressed and headed for the door before Henry could even get his clothes back on properly. All of those times had taken ten minutes at the very most. It’s always borrowed time, and never truthfully something Henry wants to take his time with. 

But Alex seems persistent in his quest to keep Henry both literally and figuratively on his toes, always hanging on every syrupy, sprawling syllable like some kind of fixation, the likes of which Henry typically tries valiantly to avoid. 

He eases back from Alex’s neck once he’s certain he’s left behind a sufficient bruise, a little shocked at his own eagerness. His fingers loosen where they’ve bunched up the material of Alex’s suit jacket at his shoulders, the reminder that he has no right to hold so tightly heavy in his temples as the shame works it’s way up his chest and onto his cheeks with a blush. 

Alex is blissfully ignorant of the sentiment though, and he tugs Henry closer to him with firm fingers and a seeking mouth, all muttered expletives and heat and the jagged cut of his teeth tugging at Henry’s lower lip.  The bite of pain keeps him present, keeps him steady, and Henry clings to it, gasps into Alex’s mouth when he squeezes roughly over the curve of Henry’s hips underneath his shirt until there isn’t a stitch of space left between them. 

It’s exhilarating to be wanted so openly, even if they are hidden away in an off-limits gallery away from prying eyes. Alex kisses him like he might die if he doesn’t, and that’s- Henry’s only ever been kissed indifferently, if he was even kissed at all. Alex’s hands keep gripping and tugging at different parts of Henry’s body like he can’t decide which part he wants to explore first, and Henry hates himself for hoping that it’ll take far more than just tonight to finish the expedition. 

Alex slides his shoulders down the wall a few inches and the motion juts his hips forward, one of his thighs, thick and muscular, settling in the space between Henry’s legs. Though Henry usually prefers the control, he’s helpless to stop the way his knees threaten to give out at the pressure of Alex’s own hips pressing firmly into his. 

He keens and topples forward, his nose glued to the space just behind Alex’s ear, and Alex catches him easily with a hand around his waist, slowly urging him back and forth. He presses a wet kiss to the part of Henry’s cheek that he can reach, then smooths a dangerous grin to the same spot. 

“Yeah? S’that feel good?” he coos, his voice deceivingly sweet before it dips into a filthy drawl, his teeth bared and fingers digging into flesh. “Come on, baby, ride me. That’s it.” 

The heat coils and simmers in his belly, his hands back to clutching fistfuls of Alex’s shirt as he abandons his resolution to remain unaffected. It doesn’t matter that they’re practically strangers, that Alex - Ander? - doesn’t seem to exist in any of the records or on any of the guest lists. Henry knows it’s the kind of thing he should probably bring up to the security staff, that he should leave well enough alone and stay away from Alex even if he is frustratingly alluring and by far the most beautiful man Henry’s ever seen. It’s risky and it’s dangerous and it’s stupid and Henry knows it. 

And yet. 

He feels mindless as he grinds forward into Alex’s hip and then back down onto his thigh, the pressure so dizzying that he has to keep his eyes shut, his mouth open against Alex’s shoulder, a bit of drool gathered on the material. Henry can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt so out of control, but it isn’t as terrifying of an idea as it always used to be with the others

Not when Alex is equally as affected, the outline of his cock straining stiffly against the bulge at the front of Henry’s own trousers, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his neck. Henry’s chin tilts and his lips part on instinct, gathering the salt onto his tongue with a quiet moan. 

“Fuck,” Alex hisses, nudging Henry with his head until he can look him in the eye, pushing the hair back from his forehead with his hand. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? You think you can get off like this?” 

“Probably,” Henry admits, his voice trembling. “It’s- it’s been a while. For me.” 

“Baby. That’s so fucking hot.” 

His hips stutter on Alex’s thigh, a crease forming between his brows. “It is?” 

“Fuck yeah, it is,” Alex growls, fingers digging into the flesh at his waist and urging him forward, back into a bruising rhythm as he breathes directly over the shell of Henry’s ear. “Knowing you think I’m worthy of getting to have you like this? Thinking about finally getting you all to myself after dancing around each other for months? Knowing I’m the one that gets to take you apart with my lips? With my hands? With my teeth?” Henry gasps, gripping frantically at Alex’s shoulders as he sucks a reciprocative bruise into the side of his jaw, the sharp line of his teeth marring his pale skin and drawing the blood to the surface. “Picturing you so desperate for me that you had to pull me away from the party and abandon your princely obligations just so you could have your fix?” A breathless chuckle lands somewhere against Henry’s collarbone, condescending pleasure mixing with the sweetest hint of pain. “S’a fuckin’ dream, sweetheart.” 

“Alex,” Henry groans a bit too loudly in the quietness of the room, shuddering at the lofty implications of his words, but Alex doesn’t shush him. 

What would they say? Henry wonders deliriously. How scandalized would people be to see the Prince of England’s Hearts with his own stuck in the confines of his throat, desperate to be handed on a silver platter to the man with his hands underneath the waist band of Henry’s trousers, the other wrapped around his neck? To see the picture of prim propriety panting and debauched, rutting mindlessly, desperately, on the brink of losing his meticulous control? Handing it over willingly?

“Yeah, baby. Say my fuckin’ name.” 

“Close,” Henry chokes. 

“Yeah? You gonna come for me?” Alex grins again, his eyes half-lidded as they roam lazily over Henry’s face, the antithesis of the punishingly quick, sharp snaps of his hips. “Wanna hear you, Henry.” 

“Yes,” he gasps, and Alex leans forward to fill in the gap between his lips with his own once more. 

It’s too much and too fast but he’s loath to stop it now, and suddenly he’s melting into molten heat headfirst, Alex’s heady eyes blazing and fierce, his grip tight and his rhythm unrelenting as it crashes over Henry in waves. He shivers and bucks and falls forward again, shaking in Alex’s arms as his eyes dip backward and flutter closed against the rush of heat. 

The world is still a little hazy around the edges when he registers Alex reaching down between them to undo the front of his trousers and get a hand around himself, pausing to lick a stripe up the center of his palm before he’s stripping himself in hurried strokes, flicking his wrist and rubbing a thumb over his slit, and Henry can see how much he’s leaking each time the flushed head of his cock fits through the top of his clenched fist. If he weren’t so lax-limbed and shaky, Henry would drop to his knees right this moment. 

He’s not as good at talking as Alex evidently is, but he’s always been intuitive with his body, with his lovers, though he’s not usually given the chance to explore or appreciate that. But Alex is here, right in front of him, gorgeous and desperate and close, and Henry can’t help the way he brings a trembling hand forward to grip at the newly exposed skin at Alex’s hip that’d been covered by his pants only moments before, only inches away from where he’s aching and swollen, and Henry curves a thumb into the jut of bone and soft flesh, and presses. 

“Ah, ah, fuck, Henry-” Alex comes with a stutter and a loud groan, clinging to Henry like a vice as he chases the feeling and then draws away, like it’s both too much and just on the precipice of too much. Henry understands. 

He strokes a hand down the back of Alex’s head until he calms, pulling back enough to look Henry in the eye and press their mouths together, softer than he had earlier. When he moves to clean them up Henry pushes him back against the wall with a gentle hand to his shoulder, ignoring Alex’s cocked brow as he reaches down on autopilot. 

With a soft sigh, Henry indulges himself in yet another fantasy he’s never been able to act on. He grips Alex’s dirty wrist from between them and drags it up to his mouth, eyes shut as he curls Alex’s fingers over his tongue and cleans each of them thoroughly, from his fingertips to his knuckles and back again, warm flesh and piquant release soothing his frayed senses. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Alex chokes, the breath knocked out of his chest. “You’re fucking perfect.” 

Henry hums and continues, pulling off of his fingers to drag his tongue across the veins and tendons running through the back of Alex’s hand that lead down to his wrist. He doesn’t stop until there’s no trace of Alex left on him, then eases a soft kiss to the center of his palm, leaning into it when Alex uses the same one to grip his cheek and pull him forward again. 

“Thank you,” Henry murmurs against his mouth, his gratitude eagerly accepted and returned by swollen, salacious lips.

+

[tojisun]

the way you wrote simon “my cock is too big it won’t fit” riley was jaw dropping, eye-rolling, and heavenly!!!

I’m imagining Simon who finally puts it in and is even more desperate than reader (cue male whimpering audio)

awww thank u so much!! i had such intense need that i bonked my head n went, “yup. this is the horny thought for the day” <333

oh but he was always soooooo desperate, even more so than the reader!! especially before they finally fucked!!!

thinking about the way he fucks his fist every night after your date ends :((

while you were at your home, stuffing your hole with your fingers (and toys, really—your eyes having devoured the chub underneath simon’s pants every time you two would sit close together, snuggled as you watched a movie, before rushing home and putting in on an order for toys because god do you need one. or four…), simon was locked in his room, messily fisting his cock.

there is too much lube, and it is staining his boxers and his pants because he was too horny to even strip properly. he bites down his moans, hesitant to let them out even when he is alone at his safe house, his eyes pressed close as he imagines the way he'll take you: on your knees while he pinches your nipples, flicking the buds with the blunt ends of his nails, or on your back with your legs folded to your chest because there is no way in hell that simon's not going to breed you.

it's that thought that always makes him cum, rumbled groans pouring out like rippling water.

“jesus,” he murmurs as he stares at his cum-stained palm, mind running at the way you clenched-and-unclenched your legs during dinner—something, he notes, was happening more often. “this is torture.”

(simon has always known how you look good in your own desperation, ragged in the way you stare up at him with furrowed eyes and lips jutted into a pout, but there was something different then. it was charged. primal. and simon realized how the ache must have peaked for you.

good, simon thought. i need you just as much.)

he slid two fingers in your twitching hole, relishing in your stuttered moans at the ease of their plunge. the wet squelch made his cock jump, thumping against his thigh, but he wasn’t done.

it wasn’t enough.

(simon has had countless partners before you, just like you had others before him.

you told him of the dissatisfaction, how cocks only ever breached your walls for the pleasure of the body it was attached to and never for your own. you told him of your elation that bubbled into sputtering disappointment because they never knew how to coax an orgasm from you with just their cock. you told him of the accidental orgasms, those that they cannot recreate because it wasn’t intended. sure, you told him of their wonderful fingers or mouths, of their robust laps you were grinding on during those days when sex is more foreplay than the penetration, but it wasn’t what you ached for.

you told him all of this, in return, simon told you the others who could never really fit him. the others who tried but they were never really interested in the preparation. the others who could only take half of his length, hissing when an inch slides in even when it shouldn’t.

“impatient,” simon murmured when you asked why his ex-partners couldn’t fit him.

“and they don’t have that…” he trailed off, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“they don’t have what?” you prodded, blinking at him all so darlingly, your blood buzzed with alcohol.

“they don’t have that masochistic streak,” simon replied, voice gentle. testing.

your only reaction was a quiet gasp, heavy eyes widening a fraction as the words settled in. he watched as you began fidgeting, throat bobbing at your dry swallow.

that was all simon needed to know you are made for him—soul and body.)

the moment your greedy hole managed to gobble all of his four fingers was when simon knew you were ready. he flicked his eyes away from your dripping slit and watched as you laid on the bed twitching, your eyes red from your tears, your skin dotted with sweat.

you looked like a beautiful, hot mess and simon was ready to engulf you whole.

simon slots himself between your legs, fist warm around his flushed cock. your glazed eyes focus on him, watching with open-mouthed gasps, and simon coos, unable to stop himself.

“ready f’r me, pup?” he asks, tapping the head of his cock against your sensitive sex.

it makes you keen, hips squirming, mussing up the already soiled sheets. simon chuckles, heat filling his cheeks, and taps it once, twice, three more times before finally lining the leaking head of his cock against your twitching hole.

the slow press in makes you two moan, bodies locking at the explosion of ecstasy that fills up your senses. overwhelming pleasure quickly razes through him, overtaking his sanity as the wet squeeze of your walls grips him deliciously.

he buckles, muscles liquifying, and the dizzying euphoria makes him stumble. he slips, his cock sliding in deeper, breaching further—

simon whimpers, unable to stop himself as unadulterated bliss grips him. he couldn’t help it: he sinks all of himself in you, your walls not even protesting as they swallowed him in, hungry in the way you are all filled up by him.

“si-!” he hears your delirious squeal, the rumble of your voice scratching into a ragged echo, and simon—

simon gurgles a response.

his mind has been zapped by the peaking high, rendering him unable to string coherent thoughts as all of his synapses sing nothing but the enveloping pleasure, running him on overdrive.

simon feels like he is being devoured. like he is stripped into nothing but his sensitive spots.

“t-too good,” he mewls. “pup, s’too good–”

[sunsetsimon]

könig x reader nsfw

tit fucking, basically obsessed with your boobs, he's a huge pervert, mention of breast feeding kink

update: lactaction kink continued

inspired by this reddit thread i went through earlier.. also im a b cup so cant relate but still hot - sun

nsfw under the cut! mdni

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

☼ god he’s such a fucking perv. he’s always looking at your chest, constantly breaking eye contact with you because he just can’t help himself. he loves low cuts and v-necks, but his favorite is when you wear baby tees. the way the fabric stretches over your cleavage, the cropped length exposing some of your tummy, he goes insane every time.

☼ sometimes he'll make you bend over to grab something just to look down your shirt. not having a bra on, he gets a glance of your nipples and he gets the quickest hard on. he imagines himself laying you on the table, fucking into you fast and hard while your boobs bounce in his face. hot tears of pleasure sliding down your face as you cum around him, babbling his name over and over. he'd pull out and pump himself a few times, shooting his load all over your chest, painting the prettiest fucking picture and he'd make sure to take a photo to use for later.

☼ he loves when you suck him off, soaking his entire cock in your spit before letting him tit fuck you. "god, wanna fuck these pretty tits, schatz," he practically growls, thrusting his hips while you hold them together, sticking out your tongue to lick his tip each time.

☼ even if you have a smaller chest, he's not doing anything before teasing you first. könig would kiss along your neck, dragging his lips down to your soft breasts, kissing your nipples before abruptly sucking on them. you gasp, back arching and pushing them further into his mouth. he massages the opposite with his hand, pinching your nipple with his pointer and thumb, loving the way you grind against him. the foreplay sends shocks straight to your pussy, making you soak your panties before he even touches you.

☼ oh fuck and if you get pregnant.. he develops a breast feeding/lactation kink. he's so ashamed of it at first, who is he to steal from your supply? but he can't stop thinking about it every time he sees you pumping, imagining you leaking as he pleasures you.

[earth2steve]

eddie ramblings from my notes app: vol 3

18+, fem!reader

you think he might've been holding his breath when your hands hit his belt and your knees hit the carpet, but he's certainly not short of it now. his head is tilted back and lolling about on the couch cushions around low groans, and you mark exactly three spots on his throat you'd like to sink your teeth into. 

“fuck, look at me, sweetheart - please?”

it comes out bordering on frantic, desparation in his tightened jaw and clenching fists. you obey, catch his eye from your spot between his thighs, and eddie writhes something painful. 

“oh fuck, no — shit, i can’t.” 

you almost laugh, pulling off of him and pressing a hot kiss to his twitching thigh.

“make up your mind.” 

eddie shudders around a low, drawn-out moan. “jesus christ, baby — gotta slow down or i'm gonna blow my fuckin’ load.”

“that's the point, handsome.” you beam.

“c'mere.” he pants, lurching forwards to grab you by the forearms and tugging you up. 

he’s already eating you alive before you can ask what he’s doing; hand wound tight in your hair and tongue halfway down your throat. it's hot and messy and you don't know how this could possibly be calming him down if that was his intention. 

your hand replaces your mouth around the length of him and eddie swears against your lips, whole body jolting straight.

"stop interrupting me."

you make it worth his while to listen, taking him to the hilt over and over even when your jaw starts to ache. it's like he can't quite decide what to do with his hands — they keep flying upwards to tug at his own hair and then caressing your cheek and then clutching white knuckled at the cushion beside him. he can't shut the fuck up to save his life, either.

“shit, sweetheart. oh god, jesus– fuck, you're insane.” 

when you grab his flailing hand and push it down on the top of your head, eddie's eyes roll so far back in his head you think it must hurt. 

he hits the back of your throat over and over, but you breathe through your nose — squeeze your fist tight in concentration. your other hand settles on his knee, gripping tight. it shakes under your fingers. 

you can see he’s holding out, for whatever reason you can't fathom. trying to stave himself off. it only makes you more determined. 

“the sooner you come, the sooner you can have your turn with me. 'let you do whatever you want, eds."

the whine that punches out of him rings in your ears. you give him another 30 seconds, tops.

[kensatou]

is it hockey or is it only fans (audio on)

[eddiesghxst]

no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.

you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)

it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.

but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)

anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶

BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.

also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie

18+ — MINORS DNI

word count: 1k

————

Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.

He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.

You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”

You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat. 

He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).

He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.

Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.

You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”

You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.

“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”

You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer. 

“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it. 

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.

And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.

It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3

[theonewhowails]

silly stuff i drew while reading Feel No Evil by @payasita , in which the Lamb does not know how to propose, Narinder does not know how to be alive, and neither of them knows what an obligate carnivore is

bonus? lmao

[lupinmoonlight]

Too Full

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Remus pumps you full and tells you to hold it in for the rest of the day. Literally. (1,590 words)

Tags - rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, dom remus lupin, sub reader, cum kink(?), age gap, porn without plot, praise kink, lots of "good girl", light humiliation kink, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - Guys this is absolute filth I don't know what else to tell you. I'm embarrassed. I made up this silly scenario at university today. I'm sorry if this is a mess. I wrote this in 2 hours, barely proof-read it, and English isn't my first language. Good night now!

The parchment in Remus' hands blurred at the edges. Numbers swam before his eyes - Order safe house locations, patrol schedules, supply caches. None of it seemed to penetrate the fog of his mind. All he could see was the flash of a silhouette pinned beneath him, hear the echo of a moan. Your silhouette. Your moan. 

Your relationship was a secret. It was a raw, passionate love, born out of desperation and need. Remus knew it was almost unhealthy, the way he craved you, needed you, but he couldn't help himself. You were his escape, his forbidden sanctuary in a world gone mad. 

His focus on the parchment was shattered, his thoughts consumed by you. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He was aching to be with you, but the house was always bustling with Order business... until it wasn't. For a delightful moment, the attention wasn't on him, the members too busy, too taken with their own tasks. 

He didn't need to say anything. He just took you by the hand and you knew. The moment the door to his bedroom slammed shut behind you, he warded it. His need was immediate and overwhelming. He was already rock hard, his erection straining against his trousers evident. He wasted no time, spinning you around and pushing you face down on the bed, hiking up your skirt with an urgency that bordered on madness. 

"Remus," you gasped, your voice muffled by the mattress. 

"Shh, sweetheart," he growled. "I can't wait any longer. I need you. I need you now." 

He hastily freed himself, his erection throbbing with need. The sight of you, face down and hips raised, made his cock twitch almost painfully. He tugged your panties down, just enough to give him access, and positioned himself at your entrance. He pressed hip tip against you, feeling your warmth, and pushed into you with one swift thrust. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips firmly. 

You whimpered, your body trying to accommodate his size. "R-Remus..." you gasped, your fingers clenching the sheets. 

He stilled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips. "Easy, love," he murmured. "Take a deep breath. Just relax for me. You can take it." 

You nodded, your breathing evening out as you adjusted to him. "That's it, good girl," he praised as he felt you relax about him. Once he felt your ease, Remus began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you back to meet his movements. 

"That's it," he groaned, his pace quickening. "Take me. Take all of me." Each thrust was powerful, demanding, driven by a need that bordered on feral. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging it back, making you arch back into him. "God, you feel so good wrapped around me." 

You moaned in response, your body yielding to him. "Remus..." you whimpered. 

"Such a good girl...taking me so well." 

Your body shuddered with each movement, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I can't...Remus, I..." 

"Yes, you can," he growled. "You can take it. Let go for me." 

You cried out, your body trembling violently as you reached the edge, clenching around him. 

"That's it," he murmured, his grip on your hips painfully tight. 

He could feel himself nearing the edge too, his control slipping further with each thrust. "I'm close," he warned you, his voice strained. "You're going to make me come. Ah...fuck. I'm going to come inside of you." 

He thrust into you one last time and held himself as deep as he could, his hips bucking as he released inside you, a loud moan escaping his lips. "Yes...you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He stayed inside you for a while, his cock pulsating, lazily thrusting a few more times to prolong the sensation. 

Eventually, he slowly withdrew, his breath still heavy, his hands caressing your back. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. 

You nodded, your cheeks flushed. 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you up and turning you to face him. 

"I want you to do something for me." 

"What is it?" you asked, still breathless. 

"Don't clean up," he said simply. "I want you to stay like this, full of me, all day." 

Your eyes widened, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. "Remus..." 

He chuckled softly as his fingers traced random little patterns on your skin. "Yes, love. You will do as you're told, aren't you?" 

"Y-yes, Remus," you responded, eager to please him despite being embarrassed. 

"What a good girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's tidy up a bit so we can head back. We don't want the others suspecting anything, do we?" 

"No, Professor," you teased. 

"Careful, love," he warned playfully. "You might just get me started again." 

"Maybe that's what I want," you replied innocently.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insatiable." 

He helped you adjust your clothes and gave you one last, lingering kiss before leading you out of his bedroom like nothing had happened. 

Only a few hours later, you felt the undeniable sensation of Remus' essence running down your thighs. Your face flushed a deep crimson, and you immediately sought him out. You made your way to the dining room where the Order was gathered for a meeting. You waited at the doorway, your eyes wide and pleading. Remus' eyes traveled your form, pausing briefly at your thighs, and he immediately understood. 

Maintaining his composure, he stood smoothly. "Excuse me for a moment," he said calmly. 

He followed you to the study, closing the door behind you. "What is it, love?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. He wanted to hear you say it. 

You hesitated, looking down in embarrassment. "Remus...it's...running down my thighs," you admitted. 

His eyes darkened with desire at your words. He lifted your skirt slightly, exposing your slick thighs. "Aww," he cooed, his tone both mocking and affectionate. "Is my little girl too full?"

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, and you looked away, flustered. "Remus, I-"

"Hush," he interrupted. "Let me see." 

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as he lifted your skirt further up, giving him better access. He took out a handkerchief and began wiping you clean, his touch light and gentle. "You need to try and hold it in a bit longer, love," he murmured.

"But, Remus, I can't-"

"No," he said firmly. "You will do as I say. Can you do that for me?" 

"Y-yes, Remus." 

"Very good," he whispered. "Now be a good girl and hold it in. I'll take care of you after the meeting." 

You nodded again, his words going straight to your core. "I'll try." 

Remus smiled, kissing your forehead. "That's all I ask. Now, go back to what you were doing." 

Remus watched you go before composing himself and returning to the meeting, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. 

"Sorry for the interruption," he said smoothly, taking his seat. "Where were we?" 

You kept to yourself for the rest of the day, mostly focusing on staying still, desperate to please Remus. As evening finally fell, Remus discreetly took you back to his bedroom, closing and warding the door behind you. 

"Show me," he instructed. 

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushed. Slowly, you lifted your skirt, revealing the sticky mess that had accumulated throughout the day. Remus hummed appreciatively at the sight, his eyes darkening. 

"My, my...looks like I've made quite the mess down there," he whispered. "You've done so well, sweetheart. I'm very pleased with you," he praised. 

You could barely hold still under his gaze, feeling exposed. 

"Now, let it out," he commanded softly. 

You went to protest, thoroughly embarrassed by the idea. "But, Remus, I can't just-" 

"I said, let it out," he repeated firmly. 

You bit her lip, your eyes darting nervously, but you obeyed him, relaxing your muscles. Remus watched with satisfaction as the evidence of your intimacy slowly began to trickle down your thighs.

"Good girl," he murmured. "You're doing so well." 

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you felt a strange sense of pride for following his instructions, for pleasing him. 

"That's it, just let it out," he soothed, his hands gently rubbing your hips. "How did you feel today? Sitting around the others knowing you were full of my seed?"

"I-I felt like I was...yours," you let out almost too quietly. 

"That's right, love. You're mine. Say it." 

"I'm yours, Remus." 

"Such a good girl for me," he praised. "You've done so well today. Now, let get you cleaned up properly." 

He led you to the bathroom, helping you undress and stepping into the shower with you. He washed you gently, his hands moving slowly, caring, possessive, gentle. 

"You've been so good," he murmured. "You did exactly as I asked." 

You leaned into his touch, feeling utterly safe and cherished. "I just wanted to please you," you whispered. 

"And you did. You've pleased me very much," he replied, his hands gently massaging your shoulders. 

After you were both clean, Remus dried you off with a soft towel, his movements slow and deliberate. He led you back to the bedroom and tucked you into bed, joining you under the covers. 

"You need your rest," he said softly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You've done enough for today."

[epiphainie]

the way buck sounds soooo upset when tommy has to leave the bachelor party just doesn't leave my head. like ok pouty boy? he'll come back? he'll barge into the hospital covered in soot and still wearing his turnouts, hair a mess, eyes apologetic and he'll let you kiss him right there in front of god like you're claiming him. he'll kiss you back with the same fervor and he'll let you drag him to the room where your entire family and friends are and he'll let you call him your official date. he'll make it up to you. i promise. he'll be there. i promise. he'll be there because you asked.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 5

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Hand feeding, praise, kink negotiations, discussion of power exchange dynamics, kissing (FINALLY)

When you reach for the cardboard box on the edge of the table, he catches both of your wrists in one hand. You only resist a little bit. His other hand flicks the box open and he picks up a thick fry.

“Open,” he rumbles, pressing it to your lips. When you open your mouth, you watch his pupils dilate. He purrs as you take a bite. “Good girl.”

The rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You would let him feed you limp celery with that tone. You lean forward again, jaw dropping open.

“Should talk now,” Simon rumbles, thumb dragging over your lip as he feeds you the rest of the fry. The contact electrifies you down to your toes. You must make some kind of noise as you swallow because he smiles. “Didn’t consider I might feed you myself.”

“Okay,” you breathe, leaning into the hand cupping your cheek.

“Finished your stretches?”

The temperature in your body drops significantly. You lean away from him. “I…uh. I… didn’t.”

Simon hums a low note, hand finding your chin again without making you look into his eyes. “Hurtin’ somewhere?”

“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I just… I was in my work clothes. And I didn’t want to do… that in front of Gaz and Soap.”

“Fair,” Simon says, drawing you forward to brush his lips over your forehead. You feel your face get hot all the way up to where they brush against you as he speaks. “You want to do them now, or later?”

The tension you barely noticed creeping into your shoulders melts away. Of course. Simon is just Simon now, not Ghost. If you aren’t comfortable doing something, he’s not going to get mad, just give you other options. He’s kept you safe, and he’ll make sure you continue to feel safe under his instruction. Even though everything is different, it’s all the same.

Tears prickle your eyes, so you squeeze them shut as you lean further into him. Suddenly, one of his arms is around your back, the one on your leg lifting you into his lap. If there’s even a grunt of effort, you don’t hear it over the way your breath gets caught in your throat. Your hands come up, automatically, to brace against his chest and one bicep before you’re folded into him like that’s the only place you ever needed to be.

And then his lips find yours.

God, how many times had you thought about kissing him? The fantasy is so muted compared to the real thing. His lips are thin and a little dry, surrounded by the barest scratch of stubble. He doesn’t coax your mouth open, just presses his lips against yours like he could do this all night. The tip of his tongue flicks out for a quick touch to your top lip, startling a sound out of you. He does it again, opening his mouth to moan into yours when you squeeze his arm in response.

When your own tongue comes out to touch the scar you’ve always admired at the corner of his mouth, he growls. “Fuck, Bambi.”

“Simon.” You barely recognize your own voice.

The hand on your thigh goes tight. It startles a gasp from you that he drinks down with a groan of is own.

He surprises you by pulling back enough to speak between kisses. “Beautiful, you know that? Thought I was hallucinating.” He tips you back a bit, taking all of your weight to scan your face. He grins as he says, “Was thinkin’ so hard abou’ you, and ‘ere you are.”

“You were thinking about me?”

“’Course, I was,” he says, leaning back into the couch. You end up resting your head against his shoulder. He sighs and kisses the top of your hair. “Missed our check in this week, ‘n you’d this big trip you were all nervous for. Didn’t get to see you off. Was lookin’ forward to gettin’ the tour of your hotel room, gettin’ y’r travel stories. ‘n then I got the call today, n’ I was cancelin’ on you again. Just about broke my ‘eart.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say. You’d always kind of assumed he was indulging you, letting you ramble about your day until he could get to the good stuff, as your ex used to say. “I knew you were kind of… on call. I didn’t realize that you were saving hostages, but I knew you were busy.”

He twists a bit to look into your eyes. “Don’t like bein’ too busy to see you.”

“You just like seeing my ass,” you joke, burying your face into his neck to settle the butterflies in your stomach.

“’S a good arse,” he chuckles, shaking the meat of your thigh in his grip. “Was definitely lookin’ forward to a bit o’ skin. But if you were too tired, I jus’ wanted to ‘ear your voice, coax you through some of your stretches before bed. Speaking of…”

You roll your eyes at the significant look he gives you. The way he never forgets a command makes so much more sense now that you know what he does for a living. Your heart flutters to see the familiar way his scarred lips quirk at your sass, paired with the unfamiliar way he tweaks the skin of your hip with the gentlest pinch.

“I’ll do them later,” you concede. “I already did all my floor stretches, and I’m hungry now.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your ass. “Should prob’ly eat before it gets cold.”

He pops open the second takeaway container to reveal your meal, a dish you had picked basically at random from the menu Gaz had showed you on his phone. It’s a lot less hand-feedable than Simon’s wrap and fries, so he lets you feed yourself, but he refuses to let you sit on the couch, even halfway. Just holds you in place while he eats one-handed, trading fries for bites of chicken adana and tipping water into your mouth every few minutes.

You’re ravenous until you’re suddenly not, halfway through your food. Simon doesn’t comment, just finishes the other half of your food while you rest against him, exhausted. Simon’s hand is still on your hip, his thumb tracing back and forth in an idle, steady pattern.

When he finishes eating, he asks, “Where’s your head at?”

“Nervous,” you say automatically. This, at least, is familiar. “’M tired, and I don’t know what you’re gonna expect of me.”

He taps three fingers on your hip, twice. “Trust me?”

“You saved my life today,” you point out.

“Tha’s work,” he dismisses. “Not workin’ now. You trust me?”

You think about it, because he always wants you to think about it before you answer. You fall back on your rules, the promises between the two of you.

“I trust you to be honest with me,” you answer, the mantra coming easy. “I trust that it’s okay to tell you if I’m not okay with something. I trust that you won’t yell at me. I trust that you’re not going to hurt or harm me on purpose to correct my behavior.”

“Very good,” he rumbles, pulling you close to press his lips against your forehead again. “I trust you to be ‘onest with me, too. Trust you’ll accept a no, when I give it. Trust that you’re not g’nna yell. An’ I trust you not to punish me if you’re upset.”

“Wow,” you say. “I never expected to hear you say that in person.”

“Never thought I’d ever ‘old you,” he replies. “An’ I’ve never folded a whats-it-called… a romper, before, neither. Interestin’ day o’ firsts.”

“It’s a jumpsuit if it’s long,” you mumble, mortified all over again that he’d had all of your stuff in his hands.

“’S impractical. Soft, though. Bet it’s real pretty on you.”

A swell of embarrassment swoops through your belly. It’s automatic to bury your face in your hands. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“None o’ tha’, now.” Simon grasps both of your wrists in one large hand again and brings them down to your chest.    He makes you look at his face with a finger under your chin. “Won’t promise I’ll never make fun, but I won’t say I think you’ll look good if I’m no’ bein’ ‘onest. Promised, yeah?”

“Trust you to be honest,” you whisper, tipping your face back into his shoulder. “Acknowledged.”

“Good girl. Three deep breaths.”

You push all of the air from your lungs, the way your therapist taught you. When you inhale, you feel his chest rise with yours. He matches you when you hold, then release the breath in a steady stream. Where the back of your hand touches his chest, you can feel his heartbeat, solid and steady as he takes the next breath with you. By the third inhale, you let your spine relax as you feel him do the same.

“Know we never planned on meeting,” he eventually rumbles. He tips you back to look down at you, then ducks down for a quick kiss. “But I’m gonna be selfish and say I’m glad you’re ‘ere. If you don’t want nothin’ else, tonight, gettin’ to ‘old you is still everythin’ I ever could’ve wanted. Honest. Acknowledge.”

“This is good. We don’t have to do anything else, and it’ll still be good,” you whisper. “Acknowledged.” You lick your lips, prop yourself up to look into his eyes, then away. “What if… What if I want to do more?”

“One step at a time,” Simon chuckles.    “Stretches first. Then we’ll see about tha’ reward I promised you, yeah?”

He brings his mouth to yours again. Your hands are freed so that he can cup your jaw so tenderly that it threatens to melt your heart, even as it electrifies you down to your toes. When you moan into his lips, he echoes you, then pulls a way to press his lips to your cheek.

“Up, Bambi. Let’s get you to the bed.”

[linkedin-offficial]

teetering on the edge of "is this even sky anymore",

a ghostly train conductor and a runaway coven witch

[yeyinde]

Please also ruin Konig tho. Yes he's big and scary, yes he's also baby, and yes he would do anything the reader asked of him. Like if she begs him to manhandle her, how can he say no??? It would kill him to deny her of something 😌

i like the idea of making such a massive man cry.

kinda nsfw under the cut

NSFW, kinda gen!neutral reader; nothing fleshed out just wondering what it would be like to suck König off until he cries. this is mostly just me rambling. he gives me very gentle!sub vibes.

probably not what you were going for, op! sorry; but i watched some videos and now i just??? wanna see him tremble and cry and fist the sheets until his knuckles turn white, begging you in broken English and German that so thick and slurred, that a native Austrian would have no idea what he was saying to let him cum because he's been sooooo good. and i went a little crazy. might flesh this out later.

—dragging it out until his massive thighs are quivering under your hands, until he's begging you to stop while he chokes on his sobs 

—trying to make him break: he's so gentle all the time, and pushing him to his limit until he grabs you? takes what he wants? and then immediately apologises for "hurting" you? hot. 

—when he gets desperate from all the teasing, and can't stop his hips from rutting up, trying to force more and more of him in your mouth

—the stammers in an amalgamation of broken English and German as he begs you to let him cum - he's been so good, hasn't he?? - and apologises for not behaving earlier, so please please please, he can't take it, anymore—

—his filthy, choked moans when he finally does cum, voice thick from the tears you made him spill, and chanting your name in a warbled hymn as you swallow every drop

—that unbearably endearing determination when he turns to you, and says it's his turn to make you feel good; his fierce grit undermined by the nervous shake of his hands, the red eyes that stare at you, glossy from his tears, and the little sniffles he lets out, muffled by his mask

—making him choke on his spit when you tell him how good he tastes

(it might break him, then, when you tell him you want to sit on his cute, tear-stained face—)

[apollodarling-writes]

Simon Says...

MINORS DNI!!!

desc: Simon “Ghost” Riley decides to take Simon says a bit further...

cw: multiple creampies, unsafe sex, ghost was out here rawdoggin you without a condom or even asking if you were on contraceptives beforehand smh, afab reader but no specified pronouns, marking, rough sex, uhh a lil blood play cause i feel like ghost would kinda be into that, dom!ghost/sub!reader, manhandling, spanking, bruising mention, public play, a little degradation, praise, Ghost is kinda mean at first, i use the term ‘pretty’ but it’s meant to sound gn, it might be kinda shitty... sorry ;(, idk if i mentioned it already but ghost is a sadist in this, reader shows slight masochism btw, kinda??? blood drinking, some possessive themes, throat fucking, this is fucking absolute filth, ghosty boy goes feral, simon's orgasm hits real hard for him- it's prolly the mutual pining and finally being able to fuck you tbh, uhhh also pussy drunk! simon, and some cunnilingus, dumbification, virgin!reader

this isn't proofread. it's also prolly a little shitty at the end. I was rushing to get this out.

@willywonkagirly @darklordofthesimp @ifellinthebongebong @midnightlockhearth

Everything started with you challenging Ghost to a drinking contest. No one in the 141 Task Force had the pleasure of seeing the man drunk, and you would be the one to change that. Upon deciding the night was nice enough, and hoping that luck would be on your side, you had slung your arm over the man’s shoulder and proposed the idea. Surprisingly, with enough begging and batting your eyelashes halfheartedly, Ghost had finally agreed. 

The rest of it was a blur. One moment you were flirting with Ghost, and the next you were being dragged to the bathrooms in the back of the bar, shoulders slamming against the cool metal of the divider. 

“Ghost! What the hell?” You weakly protest, your words slurring together.

“You like to play games, don’t you?” The man growls, venom dripping from every word that leaves his lips.

“What are you-“ Ghost’s hand shoots out, gripping your jaw.

“Did I say you could speak, [Name]?” Your eyes widen as you gently shake your head. “Then don’t speak.”

You bite your lip as the Lieutenant purrs, “You learn quick don’t you, Angel?”

“Now, since you like to play games with me, what d’ya say to a nice ol’ game of Simon Says?”

Simon says?

You furrow your brows at the man’s choice of game, but agree nonetheless. With a slight nod of the head, you hear Ghost chuckle.

“We’ll start off simple, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Simon Says: Take off my mask.”

You blanch. “A-Are you sure, Gh-“

The Lieutenant clicks his tongue, followed by a disappointed sigh. Thick fingers wrap around the soft flesh of your throat as he ghosts his cloth-covered lips along your jaw, nipping at your flesh here and there.

“Are you gonna be good for me, or am I going to have to make you? I’d prefer that you be the good little bitch you are, but…” Ghost trails off for a moment, an arm wrapping around your back, pulling you flush against his broad chest, his other hand trailing lower and lower. “I don’t mind putting you in your place, Angel.”

His fingers just barely brush against your clothed clit- a promise of what’s to come if you’re good for him.

“Will you be good for me, Pretty?” Parting your lips as the man applies gentle pressure, you quickly nod your head. Ghost releases a sultry chuckle, butterflies filling your tummy as a result, and removes his grip on you.

“Good.”

The LT takes a step back, allowing you to shakily pull his mask off.

He’s beautiful, is your first thought.

The man had to be a god. With pretty, plush lips, dirty blond hair that’s grown out just a tad more than Ghost- no, Simon- would’ve liked, long lashes that frame his gorgeous ice-blue eyes… you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

"Ya like what ya see, Sargeant?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you were far from ugly..." You murmur, causing the man to chuckle. His eyes meet yours, a hungry, lustful look swirling within. Simon reaches his hand forward, cupping your cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb against your lip.

"Simon Says: kiss me."

You inch closer to him, gently pressing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. The man quickly takes the lead, tongue brushing over your bottom lip and fingers gripping the meat of your waist- surely, there would be bruises tomorrow. Simon kisses you heatedly, lifting one of your thighs and pinning it against his hip, biting your lip and tongue here and there.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy, love." He murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw, trailing down the length of your neck.

Ghost bites down on the apex of your shoulder, forcing a pained whine to erupt from your throat. He shivers at the sound and sinks his canines deeper into your flesh, reluctantly pulling away as you begin to squirm and licks up the droplets of blood leaking from the wound.

Simon's gaze drops to the bitemark he left- a pretty purple and red taking up a portion of your shoulder. Blood rushes to the man's cock, the pants he wears beginning to strain rather painfully against his flushed tip.

"Simon says: get on your knees."

You immediately obey, mouth watering at the promise those four words held. He hurriedly unzips his jeans, the imprint of his cock making you whimper. Your core pulses as he lowers his boxers, length slapping against his abdomen, the sensitivity of it causing a poorly contained groan to form in his throat.

One hand wraps around the base, roughly tapping your lips with the leaking tip, while the other tangles itself in your hair.

"Open."

You obey.

"Suck"

You obey.

Simon's hand guides your head, forcing his cock deep into your throat.

"Doin' so good for me." He groans. "Feels so fuckin' good."

Ghost holds your head in place as he comes closer and closer to his climax, length thrusting in and out of your throat. Heat pools in your tummy, thighs clenching together as one hand slowly reaches down to fondle your clit.

"'m gonna fuckin' cum. 'm gonna fuckin cum-" Simon groans, hips suddenly stilling and eyes screwing shut as his vision borders a delicious white. He shakily pulls out, fingers brushing against your cheek, and orders you to swallow all of it.

Just like before, you obey.

"Simon says: Strip."

Swallowing thickly, you begin to strip off your clothes. By now, your underwear was practically transparent- glistening in the dim lighting, the outline of your heat on display for the LT. He hooks a finger around the seams of the garment and tears the fabric from your body.

Simon is quick to replace the fabric- his tongue lazily drawing circles on your nub and fingers prodding at your slit.

"'m gonna make you cum 'fore I fuck you." Ghost murmurs his promise into the meat of your inner thigh, releasing a throaty groan as he relishes in the taste of you.

He coaxes one orgasm out of you.

Two orgasms.

Three orgasms.

Simon didn't want to stop. Between your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, the pretty purple marks blooming in the shape of his hand on your outer thighs, and the name carved into your tummy- Simon Riley was sure he was dreaming. The taste of you, the feel of you, the scent of you; everything was just too good to be true.

"Simon please- hah fuck!- need you inside me." You whine, hips bucking at just the right angle forcing a fourth orgasm from you.

"'m so proud of you, Angel. Did so fuckin good for me, yeah?" Simon stands from his kneeling position, picking you up and pressing your back against his chest- arms hooked beneath your knees and aligning your hole with his cock. "How about I fuck you dumb, hm? How about that, baby?"

"Please. Please, Si- I just need you. Need'ta be filled."

Ghost sinks you on his cock slowly, the pain from the stretch causing you to bite your lip and tears to prick your eyes.

"Si- I've never- I've never-"

"I'll be gentle, pretty. Just feel good for me." Simon begins raising you to the middle of his shaft, and sinks you down ever so slowly. Tension pools into the pit of your stomach, growing tighter and tighter, making you more sensitive as time goes on. Simon adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that makes the tension crash down on you- your mind going blank and walls fluttering around Simon.

"Fuck-" Simon increases his pace- hips snapping into yours as he comes closer to his own orgasm. His hips never still as he spurts thick ropes of cum into you, fucking it back into you with each thrust.

Simon slams you on his cock, back pressed against the cool metal, as his hips snap up to meet halfway.

"'s too much Si-"

"Take what I give you, slut- oh god, 'm gonna fuckin cum again-"

Simon fucks into you faster and faster as he chases his own orgasm, forcing another from you. "'m gonna fuckin breed that pretty little pussy of yours. Need'ta make you mine-"

Simon cums a final time, dripping onto the floor as he gently pulls out from you, pressing a kiss to your temple and cleaning you up.

.

.

.

.

"Ya think they're fuckin?"

"Soap MacTavsish."

"Sorry, sorry."

[wreckedandpolemic]

mine - matty healy

(mdni) in which your husband feels the need to remind you exactly to whom you belong. a white and gold future fic. 2713 words.

warnings: problematic age gap, daddy kink, branding, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, degradation, mild cumplay, dirty sleazy possessive man

You really, truly didn’t mean to find yourself in this situation. Sometimes, you’ll admit, it’s on purpose, playing up the brattiness until Matty snaps, doling out whatever punishment he wants as you cry and promise to be good next time. This time, though, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t. You can’t help it if your husband’s business partners see his young, hot wife and decide they want you for themselves. Besides, Matty’s always telling you to be polite, so you were. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, leaning forward as you listen with interest.

It’s not your fault if some (old, stupid) man takes that as the wrong kind of interest. Matty watches as he stumbles through attempts to flirt with you, pet names tripping clumsily off his tongue. Steam practically curls off your husband, his face hardening in fury as you smile blithely, accepting the affections without encouraging anything; he doesn't take the hint. When he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear, trailing his hand down in a garish attempt to touch your tit, Matty catches his wrist in a punishing grip. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife, yeah? Unless you wanna get knocked the fuck out.” His usually-subtle accent bleeds over his words, roughens their edges. Everyone suddenly becomes very interested in the silverware and heat prickles under your skin as Matty’s grip tightens on your waist, possessive.

He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep and an obvious performance, a public message: mine. Matty stays tight with anger the whole evening, the tension in his shoulders not loosening until you’re spread out on the bed, your dress crumpled somewhere on your living room floor and your hair haloed out on the pillow as he stares down at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say cautiously, and his face softens.

“Oh, baby, I’m not mad at you,” he promises, climbing over you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You accept it eagerly, the bitter taste of red wine lingering on his lips. “Just need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah? So pretty, baby. Drives me fuckin’ crazy. You know, every single one of those men wanted to take you home. Can see it in the way they look at you.”

You flush, a note of pride creeping under your skin. “But they can’t,” you say, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“That’s right. You’re Daddy’s girl, yeah? I’m the only one who gets to take you home, gets to see you all pretty and pleading and spread out for me, yeah? Bet they go home and dream about seeing you like this.” His nails dig into your skin as he grips your hips, snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.

“Only you, Daddy,” you promise, and Matty presses a kiss between your tits, just over your heart. It thuds faster, calling out for his touch, a wave of love crashing over you as you sigh happily. “All yours,” you say, pouting as he climbs off you and goes to root in a dresser drawer for something.

He comes back to you with an uncapped Sharpie, grinning as you shudder. “Need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah?” You nod shakily, Matty kneeling over you and leaning down. The scrape of the pen against your decolletage sends a shiver up your spine, something close to pain but not quite it blooming where the ink stains your skin. Concentration is evident on his face as he writes, the letters bold and clear as he moves down your body. Sitting up to admire his handiwork, Matty plucks at the strap of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, princess? Wanna see your pretty tits.” You obey thoughtlessly, arching your back to slip a hand behind you and unhook your bra, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Naked but for your panties with Matty fully clothed on top of you, you shiver, exposed. There’s something that feels right about it, though, handing Matty all the power like this, and trusting that you’ll only love what he does with it.

“What did you write, Daddy?” you ask, craning your neck to try to read, but the letters are upside down and your skin bends in a way that makes the letters illegible.

Matty pushes you back down gently. “Here, darling. Let me show you.” He slides his phone out from his back pocket and takes a couple of photos before handing it to you. Eagerly, you drink in the sight of yourself, heat in your cheeks and your lips red and kiss-bitten. Then, your eyes track across the words scrawled on your skin. Property of M. Healy. A pulse of heat throbs in your belly so thickly it almost hurts, liquid desire dripping between your legs and pooling in your underwear.

Property. You turn the word over in your mind, savouring the way it traces deliciously up your spine. Matty’s property, his kept girl, his pretty toy, his to do with whatever he wants. The thought makes your head go fuzzy, the idea of being his whenever and wherever he wants melting your insides to goo. “You own me, Daddy,” you murmur, his eyes so wide with lust that they look black.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he breathes, stripping out of his suit and boxers, his cock thudding against his belly. Eagerly, you slide your panties down your legs and kick them to the floor, watching Matty’s eyes fall to your soaked cunt. “So wet for me, princess. Does it get you off, knowing you’re all mine?” You nod, drool pooling in your mouth  as he strokes his cock slowly. “Such a good girl. My good girl. Can see how bad you want it. Bein’ so patient, princess.”

Trembling, it’s a fight to keep still, keep your hands to yourself. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, Matty still just watching. “Please, Daddy,” you whine desperately. “Can do whatever you want to me,” you breathe, and the words finally snare him, his eyes darkening as he falls on top of you.

“Whatever I want, yeah?” he murmurs, a gush of heat flooding between your legs at his words. “C’mon, sweet girl. Legs up for me. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he promises, thumbing over the bold, stark letters on your skin. He dips his head, biting a harsh bruise into your neck, one you know will be luridly purple by the next time he takes you out. You giggle as he takes a greedy handful of one of your tits, grasping possessively. “These pretty tits are mine, yeah?”

“Yours,” you whimper, the heat between your legs unbearable as Matty works his way down your body, repeating it like a litany as he grasps possessively at your skin.

“These hips.” His. “This ass.” His. “These pretty thighs.” His. “This sweet, needy little cunt.”

A strangled moan escapes you as he brushes his fingers featherlight over your clit, teasing. Desperation wells under your skin, your cunt aching with need. “S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M your property,” you moan, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“That’s right,” he grins. “Bein’ such a good girl for Daddy, princess.” A moan of pure lust spills from your lips as Matty licks a broad, flat stripe over your cunt, your hands fisting in the sheets at the wave of pleasure that cascades over you. He laps at you insistently, setting a dizzying rhythm over your swollen clit. You tremble with the effort of keeping still, letting Matty do what he wants while you take it like a good girl. “S’okay, baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make, feel that sweet little cunt grinding on my face,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through your core.

Matty wraps his lips around your clit, the sensation making your body jolt as he sucks on your swollen bundle of nerves. Heat blooms under your skin as Matty tongues at you and moans into your cunt, the vibration rolling gloriously through you. He digs his fingers into your thighs, so hard that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, further proof he owns you. Mind-melting pleasure winds deliciously through you, Matty plunging his tongue deep inside you, devouring you from the inside out.

He refuses to fall into a rhythm, refuses to let you get complacent, switching between sucking on your clit, licking at your hole and tonguefucking you at a dizzying pace. Whining incoherently, you fist a hand in his curls and grind your hips up against his mouth. Matty’s nose bumps your clit as you writhe, legs kicking in the air. Molten pleasure melts your brain, dripping sticky from your ears and puddling on the mattress. “Are you close, sweet girl?” Matty asks, pulling away to kiss wetly at your thighs. Your hazy, addled mind struggles to latch onto his words, and you gasp as he blows cold air over your clit. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whimper reflexively. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m close,” you whine, tugging on his hair to pull him back to your cunt. Matty’s fingers join his tongue, a bolt of ecstasy striking between your legs at the scrape of his calloused fingers. He works skilfully at your clit, your legs turning to jelly as waves of pleasure pin you to the mattress. “F-fuck, Daddy, m’gonna cum, want it s’bad, please, please, please!” you cry out, babbling incoherent pleas into the air above you.

“Go on, darling. Cum for Daddy.” He pairs the words with a harsh pinch to your clit, your body wracking with shudders as you pitch over the edge. Pleasure drips stickily down your spine, your vision blurring as your orgasm crashes through you. Matty doesn’t let up, sucking insistently on your clit, your cunt still pulsing with the aftershocks.

Pleasure tinged with pain kicks under your skin, overstimulation burning between your thighs. “S’too much, Daddy, I can’t–” you whimper, his free hand pinning your hips down when you try to squirm away.

“‘Whatever you want,’ you said,” Matty reminds you, running a finger through your sensitive folds. “What I want is for you to take it like a good girl, okay?” You nod shakily, swallowing thickly around a whine. “There’s my sweet girl. Colour?”

“‘M green,” you promise, shifting your hips and moaning when Matty’s tongue finds your clit again. You choke on a gasp as he sinks two fingers into you, meeting no resistance at your soaked hole.

“Such a good girl,” Matty murmurs, kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs, marking you as his, the undercurrent of pain glorious weaved through the pleasure licking up your spine. He finger-fucks you hard, your cunt clenching and legs kicking in the air, a second orgasm already building at the base of your spine. “My fucking girl, yeah?” Your hand drifts unconsciously down to where his name is written just below your tits. “All those men today wanted you, princess. Wanted you so badly,” he coos, your mind staticky as his fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that sends you reeling. “Wanted my gorgeous, sexy, irresistible, perfect fucking wife,” he groans, punctuating every adulation with a quick, deep thrust, moans spilling endlessly from your lips. 

“Can’t have me,” you slur out, your mind off-balance against Matty’s unfaltering pace.

“That’s right, princess,” he says, pride colouring his tone. “You’re mine. All mine. That’s my  ring on your finger, my name next to yours.” he growls. Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I should take you out like this, show the whole fuckin’ world how much you love bein’ all fucked-out for me, wearin’ my name, bein’ my property.” You give a helpless, strangled moan, turned on beyond words. “God, you love that, don’t you, baby? Such a good little slut for Daddy. Do you wanna cum, angel?”

“God, yes, please, please, please!” you scream out, writhing and squirming uncontrollably as the tide of pleasure wells up inside of you, threatening to overwhelm.

Matty kisses your clit softly, your cunt fluttering around his fingers at the sensation. “God, you beg so pretty, baby. Go on, darling, cum,” he orders, and your body obeys. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the first, pure pleasure washing over you and wiping your mind clean. Your vision whites out, a scream you’re only dimly aware comes from your own throat ringing out. Euphoria burns from your core, flooding your limbs, hot and intense.

You come back to Earth to Matty’s tongue working insistent and sure over your clit, your body going boneless against the fervid pleasure winding up your spine. “Again?” you whimper.

Matty pinches your hip with his free hand. “Don’t be a brat. How many times have I told you I wanna spend all day with my tongue buried in this sweet cunt? ‘S what I want, princess, like you said. SHould be thankin’ me. Colour?”

“‘M still green, Daddy. Thank you,” you say dopily, letting your eyes slip closed as pure electricity washes over you. 

You lose count of how many times Matty makes you cum, skilled fingers and tongue sending you spiralling over and over and over again. Your body feels barely a body; ecstasy in place of organs, pleasure in place of bones. When he’s finally satisfied, pulling away with his lips and chin fucking dripping with your arousal, your cunt feels sore and swollen, and you know you won’t be walking right for weeks. He climbs over you, pulling your jaw open like you’re a fucking doll and spitting the taste of you into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, smiling up at him and showing off your clean tongue.

“Good girl,” Matty coos. “Got you trained up so good, hm? God, I fucking love you, my girl,” he groans, leaning down to kiss you so that the taste of you smears further across your tongue.

“Love you too,” you say, gazing up into his eyes, lust-darkened but still liquid with adoration. “Yours forever,” you promise, lifting your left hand so your wedding ring catches the light.

Matty kneels up to take in the sight of you, fucking wrecked for him, his eyes blowing wide at his name in stark ink on your skin. He unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock, flushed red and drooling. Two fingers swipe through your soaked cunt, and you whimper at the prospect of cumming again. “S’okay, darling, m’not gonna make you go again,” Matty promises, wrapping his wet hand around his cock. “See how hard you make me, angel?” He tips his head back with a groan, slowly pumping his cock. “All for you. M’yours.”

“Made for each other,” you say breathily, eyes glued to the point where his cock disappears into his fist.

Moaning low in his throat, Matty nods. “Made for each other,” he agrees, fucking his fist wildly. You can tell from his face, the way his motions get more erratic with every passing second, that he’s close. With a gasp of your name, he’s cumming, white ropes splashing on your belly and over your tits. His jaw goes slack as he gazes down at you, his cum splattered over the brand of his name driving him wild. “Fuck. Look so fuckin’ gorgeous, darling. God, I wanna keep you like this forever.”

You giggle. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Can I?” he murmurs, awed.

“As many as you like, Daddy,” you smile. “I’m your property, remember? Your little slut. Your pretty cumdump.”

Matty gives a shuddering moan. “For such a princess, you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth,” he chuckles, retrieving his phone from his discarded jacket. He takes at least a dozen pictures, pausing in between each to stare at you, unabashed arousal in his face.

“I learned it from you,” you smirk; you both know that isn’t true, but he likes hearing it. You drag two fingers through the mess on your stomach and suck them clean, grinning proudly up at him.

“Fuck,” Matty groans, cock twitching valiantly as he watches you. “God, drives me fuckin’ crazy when you do that. Makin’ me wanna fuck you properly, baby.”

A thrill skitters up your slime. “Please?”

[lordoflightning]

gotouge was rly like, “here’s a nice kid!! now lets put him through the horrors”

[greenteaandtattoos]

sometimes you don't need to talk out your issues, sometimes you just need to fuck them out. we call that therapussy