#Twist lotion pump

[lucysarah-c]

Scratches down his back

Summary: Repeat after me, nothing good happens in the common showers unless it’s Levi sandwiching you with the wet wall. Sadly, this is not the case. So, nothing good will happen.  Author's Note: I'm revisiting this piece, my second-ever Levi fanfiction, after Tumblr inexplicably removed it. I've made a few alterations, so if you recall the original, you might notice some differences. I've attempted to recreate it to the best of my memory. Despite initially intending it to be full NSFW, I've reconsidered; it doesn't quite match the tone I'm aiming for. This leans more towards being a Crack fic than an NSFW one. Warning: This story contains suggestive themes but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2.8k

She lotioned up, fingers deftly twisting and knotting the towel around her body to keep it from slipping. Annoying groans echoed in the humid tiled space as she struggled to finish her routine while maintaining modesty and not taking up too much space. 

"Holy Sheena," a voice called from her right, making her turn around hastily. 

"What?" she responded. 

Hange walked closer, seeming less concerned about covering up after coming out of the shower. "Those bruises... tell Shorty he's supposed to fuck you, not try to kill you," they joked. 

She sighed intently and found the well-marked fingertips around her hips, washing away marks around her wrists and the obvious hickeys and bite marks on her inner thighs and lower collarbone to conceal them from daily life. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle. 

"Forgot I had those," she commented, momentarily happy before furrowing her brow again. "I can't find anything here!" 

The former HQ of the scouts lacked a pumping water system, everything (despite her boyfriend's attempts) smelled of mold and humidity. The place was freezing due to the tall ceilings and lack of proper insulation, especially in the middle of the forest where temperatures dropped the lowest. Having to shower there, under shaky candlelight, with buckets of water and a cup to pour it on her body was a nightmare. 

"How could you forget?" Hange seemed less stressed about the shower situation, either because they had fewer steps in their routine or because they were less ashamed. 

"I got used to it, and I usually don't share bathrooms, so no one can see me naked," she explained, searching among her personal hygiene items for the next step in her routine. "I forgot how impractical communal showers were." 

"Ah, yes, because you and your hubby have all the space for yourselves," the brunette joked, making kissing sounds to annoy her further. 

"You're just jealous that my love life is very active," she retorted. 

"Don't point those fingers at me, save those assumptions for Erwin," Hange teased. 

Their banter made her laugh and nod slightly in agreement. "Speaking of which, did he send you here to help with something?" 

"Supervise a bit of the situation for him and fill out reports for the MPs and the military board," Y/N explained casually as she started to put on comfy clothes. 

"So, basically... a conjugal visit so Levi doesn't get blue balls," They quipped. 

Coughing loudly as the foam from the toothpaste made her choke in shock, she spat into the sink before looking up, blushing deeply. "HANGE!" 

The squad leader chuckled, unfazed by the outburst. "Your marks tell me I'm right. You arrived last night, and he jumped on you like a beast in heat." 

She scoffed, not saying a word as her mouth was still full of toothpaste. Frowning slightly at the squad leader and shooting them an askance look, but Hange didn't seem offended, taking the conversation lightheartedly. 

As they finished their dental routines, Y/N was surprised by Hange's efficiency. They clearly had different notions of after-shower routines. 

"Don't be so hard on him," Y/N defended her boyfriend tenderly as she rinsed the toothpaste residue. "He's stressed about the whole Titan boy situation. He needed to unwind." 

Both walked out of the room lethargically, as if neither had anywhere urgent to be. "That's the excuse Shorty gave you? But if Eren is so meek around Levi..." Hange argued back between chuckles. 

The empty corridors of the former HQ made her shiver, quickly losing the warmth of the shower as they strolled. When the name of the new cadet in Levi's squad was dropped, Y/N couldn't help but grimace and bite her bottom lip to hold back a chuckle. 

"What's so funny?" Hange asked. 

"Nothing," she replied. 

"Come on, just tell me!" 

"Fine..." she relented, "but this stays between us." 

"You know I can't promise that," Hange joked, indicating that juicy information wouldn't stay secret for long. "Just spit it out." 

"I met Eren earlier today..." she began. 

"Yeah, and?" Hange prompted. 

Y/N's subtle, almost innocent blush didn't match her sassy chuckles. "He's hella cute." 

Hange's loud gasp echoed in the empty hallways, prompting Y/N to hush them intensely. "You're a taken woman, Y/N!" the brunette argued, albeit without seriousness. "And... He's a kid. Have some decency, you creep." 

"Hey!" Y/N quickly protested. "I never said I was going to sleep with him or something like that! Can't a girl admit when a boy is cute? I mean, did you see his eyes? He's going to be turning heads around here before you know it." 

Hange chuckled, "If he survives..." 

"What a depressing thought, Hange, for Sheena's sake," both continued walking. "Mark my words, he's going to be handsome and will have girls swooning over him." 

"Including you?" Hange teased. 

Y/N shook her head softly, regretting telling the squad leader about it. "I could teach him a thing or two," she joked back, earning a shallow laugh from her companion. 

"Don't let Shorty hear you say that," Hange warned. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she assured. 

The heavy stone walls seemed to catch every little molecule of dust between the bricks as she swung the door open to the basement kitchen, probably designed to keep the cold temperature for food storage. Or perhaps it was an old castle, and the staff was secluded to the forgotten and unpleasant part of the architecture. Once inside, Petra and Eren were cutting potatoes while sitting on big, chipped wooden boxes. 

"Hey," Y/N greeted, rubbing her arms over her clothes as the humidity and coldness of the place seemed to penetrate every piece of clothing. "The bathroom is free if you want to take a shower." 

Y/N chuckled softly at her own words. "Well, 'shower' is a bold word for sitting down and throwing buckets of water on yourself," she clarified, jokingly. 

Petra seemed to understand, smiled at Eren, and stood up to clean her hands before leaving. They were taking turns for showers, mostly because the former HQ lacked a water pumping system, so they had to fetch water early in the day. For showers, the water had to be warmed up by the stove and then carried to one of the rooms they had chosen as a bathroom. Neither room was ideal because of the wooden floors, but they made do. 

She noticed the big, almost innocent eyes of the cadet looking up at her, both seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move. Eren continued with his task silently until she cleared her throat. 

"So... have you taken a shower yet, Eren?" 

"No, ma'am," Eren replied stiffly, making her scoff. 

"You can call me Y/N," she said, taking a spot next to him on the box. "Here, let me help you, or we'll be having potatoes for dinner the day after tomorrow." 

Her hands began to peel the potatoes with expertise. "You're good at this," he commented, looking down at his own pile and noticing a good part of the peel had taken the potato with it. 

She chuckled, "Ugh, you know how many potatoes I peeled before I was promoted," she joked. "You're showering after dinner? Make sure to rinse the water out of your hair if you're going straight to bed; you might catch a cold otherwise." 

Eren seemed surprised by the comment, or perhaps by the interaction overall. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with less self-assurance. "Captain Levi said the rest should go ahead, and then we'll go... I feel bad that he had to wait to take his turn because of me." 

"You're showering with Levi?" she asked, entertained, cutting off a bit of the self-hate speech that the cadet was about to embark on. "You're not planning on stealing my man, are you?" 

Oh, how quickly the blood rushed to his cheeks. It was priceless. "N-NO! I-I, no. I'll n-never," the poor boy began to stutter. She playfully patted his back while having a blast. 

"Relax, Eren. I'm messing with you," she said between chuckles. "It's just a silly shower, sweetie. Levi goes to bed very late, so showering last doesn't affect him." 

"But Oluo said–" 

"Ohhh, please," she interrupted him again, rolling her eyes as she returned to her task of peeling potatoes. Momentarily pointing at him with the knife, as if to emphasize her point, she continued, "Do not listen to him. Oluo is like one of those very tiny little dogs. They bark and bark and may even bite more than a regular-sized dog, but they actually hold no power." 

It was time for the cadet to have a short chuckle at her comparison. "Mr. Oluo isn't going to like that." 

"Well, I'm higher in command than him so." 

There was a brief calm silence as both of them continued to prepare dinner. "You're too nice to me, Squad Leader," Eren murmured, slightly ashamed. "The rest of Captain Levi's squad is nice too, but I can feel their fear..." 

Y/N couldn't help but find it endearing, the little pout on his face. "Oh sweetie, I'm the one who brings the first paperwork of the day to Erwin, and sometimes I even have to wake him up. There's nothing you could do that could scare me after that," she said while reaching forward to pinch his right cheek while wrinkling her nose. "You're a cutie." 

The side smile mixed with a not subtle blush that extended to his ears and the subtle shame in his eyes. Everything in his attitude screamed 'I'm not a girl or a kid, don't call me that.' 

But that was exactly what he was in her eyes: a kid. 

Clicking his tongue, cursing under his breath, he moved the shaking candle around, trying to find a good lighting spot against the old mirror while passing the razor close to his skin. The flame shook under the little insulation of the old rooms, and the humidity of the showers didn’t help as it rained little drops of condensation too close to it. Unlike Eren, who had finished showering and looked around ashamed, unsure how to even begin to dress up for bed without looking awkward (he could start by not standing still in the middle of the room), Levi seemed rather relaxed. Apparently, his only problem was shaving under that type of light. 

The Captain looked over his shoulder, found the cadet looking as if he wished the earth could swallow him. “Come on, brat. We don’t have all night. Get dressed so I can take you to the basement,” Levi spoke up. “Don't be so tense. I cleaned the place myself.” 

‘The cleanliness is not my problem,’ Eren thought to himself as he tried to carry on. But keeping the towel around his hips while trying to put clothes on that stuck to his humid body, nothing was going according to plan. 

“I bet you shared showers in worse conditions at the training camps,” Levi kept his usual stoic face as he cleaned the residues of shaving cream from his face and carried on unaffected by the situation. 

But Eren couldn’t unglue his eyes as soon as he noticed them. Yes, them. The red striking scratches down the back of his superior. Well-marked, five on each side decorating his shoulder blades. Eren swore he was trying not to pay them any mind, trying to remember to breathe or even to stop the saliva as his mouth hung open looking at them. 

Levi mentioning the shared showers at the training camps didn't help. Because all he could hear repeating endlessly in his mind were the stupid conversations Reiner and Jean would have about the hypothetical chicks they were planning to lay with. How they throw their heads back as they moan your name. Their nails sinking in your back as you pounded into them. 

‘Think of something else, Eren. Think of something else,’ 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out a reply as the object he was picking up slipped from his clumsy hands, gathering his superior's attention, who was now staring at him as he kneeled to pick it up with his face as red as a tomato and nervous eyes. 

Levi raised a silent eyebrow for a split second before slightly shaking his head, not giving it much thought. ‘Teenagers,’ he thought to himself while sighing. 

Eren wished he could stop his own mind because it wasn’t just Reiner’s voice playing in his head but the created mental images of what he thought, in his inexperience, it looked like: his superior—no—his hero, fucking the sweet, caring woman who had just been peeling potatoes with him. Her hands that pinching his cheeks, sinking its nails into his squad leader’s back while moaning his name. Wrinkling his eyes closed, trying to erase the mental images as he could feel the blood pumping. ‘You’re not planning on stealing my man, are you?’ her voice echoing in the walls of his head, pumped lips and sultry eyes as she looked back at him playfully. 

‘Think of something else!’ 

“What could you probably be thinking of?” Levi’s voice echoed as his worst nightmare. Had he said that out loud? This time Levi had turned around to face him, left hand resting on the sink as he had his trousers on but hanging loosely on his hips as he was halfway getting dressed. He didn’t seem friendly, and his dead glance demanded an explanation. 

“Ehm- I,” Eren began to stutter, trying to find a logical explanation. His mind was racing miles per hour, how to explain. He was peeling potatoes, she made a joke, now he knows they are dating, Levi had his back scratched by her. She, her nails, her joke, her pretty lips— 

“Y-Y/N,” 

Ah- He shouldn’t have said that, but it was the first word that came to his mind. 

“What?” Levi’s voice seemed to source from hell itself. 

Heavy steps again on the floor, as he rushed back to his room. “Oi, where are you going so angry, shorty?” Hange rested against the wood frame while drinking a cup of tea. They had heavy under-eye circles and despite the dose of caffeine from their drinks, they seemed very lethargic. 

“Tch, to talk to my girlfriend about not messing around with my subordinates,” Levi had a heavy frown on his face as his hair still leaked little drops of water. “I just had the most uncomfortable conversation with Eren,” Levi said between clenched teeth, barely modulating. 

Hange chuckled while raising an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times. “Y/N told you she thinks Eren is a cutie? I’m surprised...” 

Levi, who had never stopped facing down the hall to his room, not even when he began his conversation with the other squad leader, slowly turned around to face the brunette as he heard that with a clearly confused face that turned into a frown as the information sank in. “What?” he spat out. 

Hange began to chuckle as they feared that they had misunderstood, “Ha ha... didn’t you say you had an uncomfortable conversation about Eren?” 

“Clean up your filthy ears or go to sleep already, four eyes,” the captain said calmly before clarifying, “I said a fucking uncomfortable conversation WITH Eren.” 

“Now, tell me what the hell you meant by that and make it quick because I already stood in a leaky bathroom for easily half an hour hearing Eren stutter apologize after he said my girlfriend’s name with a fucking hard on.” 

Observing out of the window as she admired how calm the deep forest was at the former HQ. It was rather cold, but she had only her nightgown on, a sheer translucent piece of cloth. The door of the room swung open, revealing an extremely angry Levi. He shut his door close and walked up to her. 

“What's gotten into you?” She questioned, confused. But before she could even reply, he was grabbing her face, pressing her cheeks together, and slightly raising her face to have it inches away from his. 

“You’ve forgotten your manners. I’ve been too soft with you,” Levi groaned, “First of all, you don’t go around playing cheeky with my subordinates.” 

She could feel the tug from his grip, pressing her closer as her hands touched his arm. Breathing heavily, humming a moan at his words. “Second, you truly think you could have a brat like him when I can already tell you’re dropping with the idea of me teaching you your place again?” 

“Lev-” 

“Your next words should be ‘Yes, sir’ if you know what's good for you,” he let go of her face just to slap her ass, “Go to bed and ass up, baby girl.” 

She moved excitedly in the direction he indicated but turned around as she bit her bottom lip, watching as he grabbed a belt from his uniform, “and that?” she asked curiously. 

“To make sure I’m the only one who leaves marks behind.” 

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[vanteguccir]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrQe3yqW/

write something like that with Chris 🙏🏻

── ୨୧ !　a tiktok blurb where you do your makeup while chris describes it in the background

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

Y/N set up her phone on the tripod, making sure it captured the perfect angle of her vanity and, consequently, her shared bedroom with Chris. Her ring light stood poised beside her vanity, casting a perfect, even light. She hit the record button and smiled at her reflection, feeling a mix of excitement and amusement.

She was about to start a makeup trend that had been making waves on TikTok; recording herself doing her makeup in mute, and then having her boyfriend, Chris, do a voice-over without any prior knowledge of makeup.

Silently, she held up her first product; a small bottle of primer. She turned it slowly, showing all sides, then squirted a small amount onto her fingertips.

Chris's voice finally filled the video.

"Alright, let's see what we have here." He started with a playful tone. "Y/N is holding some kind of magic potion. Oh wait, it’s a tiny bottle. Okay, she’s squeezing out... hand lotion? I think that's hand lotion."

With a practiced touch, she spread the primer across her face, focusing on her cheeks, forehead, and chin.

"She's rubbing the hand lotion all over her face. Why do you even need makeup, babe? You look so good already." Chris commented sincerely.

Next, she picked up her foundation. She displayed the bottle, making sure to catch the label on camera. Twisting off the cap, she pumped a few drops onto the back of her hand. Using her fingers, she dotted the foundation across her face, creating a pattern of beige dots.

"Now she's got this... uh, more lotion? Why is everything lotion?" His voice sounded high-pitched. "This one is thicker. Maybe it's... face paint lotion? I don’t know. She's dotting it all over her face. Polka dot style, very artistic."

Grabbing her foundation brush, she began blending the product into her skin with quick, even strokes, transforming her face into a smooth, even canvas.

"Okay, now she's using a big fluffy brush. It's like one of those paintbrushes but softer. She’s painting her face with the face paint lotion. Very fast, I can barely keep up."

Once her foundation was flawlessly blended, Y/N moved on to her concealer. She held up the tube, giving it a little shake before applying it in lines under her eyes, on her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, and on her chin.

"What's next? Oh, she’s got a tiny tube. She’s squeezing out some... finger paint? Yeah, definitely finger paint. She's drawing lines under her eyes and on her forehead. Babe, you missed the paper. You're supposed to paint on paper, not your face."

She picked up her beauty sponge, carefully patting and blending the concealer until it seamlessly melded with her foundation.

"Now she's blending the finger paint with a sponge. It's like she's patting her face with a marshmallow. This is fascinating."

With her base set, she grabbed her contour stick. She twisted it up and drew lines along her cheekbones, jawline, and the sides of her nose. She paused to show the marked lines to the camera before using a contour brush to blend them out, adding dimension to her face.

"She's holding up a... magic marker? No, it’s a stick. She's drawing on her cheeks and nose with it. Maybe it’s a fancy crayon. Oh, she's blending it, too. Babe, why do you have so many steps? And why do you need a magic marker for your face?"

Y/N then reached for her eyeshadow palette. She opened it up and displayed the array of colors to the camera, letting the viewers see the variety of shades. Using a small eyeshadow brush, she applied a neutral base color to her lids, followed by a slightly darker shade in the crease, and finished with a shimmer on the inner corners of her eyes.

"Okay, what’s next? She's got a palette with tiny squares. Looks like an artist's palette. She's using a small brush to put colors on her eyelids. This must be the finger paint palette for the eyes."

Next, she picked up her eyebrow spoolie and brushed her eyebrows into place with quick, precise strokes. She filled them in with an eyebrow pencil, ensuring they looked natural and well-defined.

"Now she's using what looks like a tiny broomstick to brush her eyebrows. Neat, tidy eyebrows. Perfect." Chris had nailed the description of it, for sure.

Then came the mascara. She held up the tube, opened it, and carefully applied it to her lashes, wiggling the wand from the roots to the tips to give her lashes length and volume.

"She's holding up another tube. Lipstick? No, she’s putting it on her eyelashes. Lipstick for the eyes? That can’t be right." His voice lowered in the last sentence, as if he was talking to himself. "Oh, wait, this must be... lash paint. Yeah, definitely lash paint."

Finally, Y/N reached for her highlighter. She displayed the shimmering powder to the camera, then used a fan brush to sweep it onto her cheekbones, down the bridge of her nose, and on her cupid's bow, giving her skin a radiant glow.

"Alright, last step. She's using a shiny thing and brushing it on her cheeks and nose. Glitter paint? Babe, you’re glowing like a star." His tone sounded amazed, his mouth probably opened in awe.

Y/N reached for her lipstick. She held the tube up to the camera, showcasing the rich, vibrant red shade. She opened the small tube and carefully applied it to her lips, making sure to stay within the lines. She pressed her lips together, rubbing them lightly to spread all the contents perfectly.

"Wait, she isn't finished yet. But I- Okay, well, she’s holding up a tiny tube again. She’s twisting it up, and it’s... oh, actual lipstick this time! She’s putting it on her lips, starting from the middle and going outwards. Looks like she’s painting with a tiny brush. And now she’s pressing her lips together and rubbing them? Looks great, princess!"

She then grabbed her lip gloss, a clear, glowy formula, and applied it over the lipstick, adding a high-shine finish. The color was bold and striking, complementing her overall look perfectly.

"And now, oh wait, another shiny tube? She’s using a tiny brush to apply something shiny over her lipstick. More lipstick? Oh, it's gloss! I know that one. She always makes me put it on my pockets. Babe, you really love your gloss. Okay, she’s finishing up now."

She leaned closer to the camera, giving a final look at her finished makeup. Her face glowed under the light, and every product worked together to create a stunning look.

"That's it! She’s all done. And she looks amazing. But seriously, princess, you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world!"

She blew a kiss to the camera and gave a playful wink before stopping the recording.

[xuchiya]

"paint this" || drabble || kim hongjoong

"hongjoong ... are you done?" when you opened the door of his art room studio, you were flabbergasted with the view.

no, the unfinished painting was nothing new nor were the spilled paints or roller paints at the corner. no, it was hongjoong in just an apron, shirtless, and pants underneath him.

it felt illegal to gawk at him this way yet the opportunity to look at him in his glory is a once in a lifetime moment for you as you have never seen hongjoong shirtless.

it had not been long since you two started dating and went beyond the zone of newbie couples. you are now in the situation where you are allowed to feel aroused around your partner but not yet on that part where you both felt the same erotic feeling.

heck, that is all you when hongjoong feels the same way yet he overthinks that it is too soon or too much for you to take in since you both were still in the phase of honeymoon. so, he took it all out on his art works.

speaking of hongjoong, it is a rare sight of your lover to be half-naked in his studio, although it might be his home, but he doesn't find it in himself to go shirtless. but this is a view you would gladly stare at.

he hums, turning around to meet your gaze, successfully looking at your flustered face, he turns back around looking at the empty canvas, "i just finished the last one but i still need to do one more."

you entered the room, looking at the blank canvas, "oh, anything i could help?"

just in time with question, hongjoong felt himself win. it felt too good to be true on his situation where he thought through a plan, he felt not going with it, yet it works out as smoothly as his brush gliding down his canvas.

he looks over at you once more, a smirk on his lips.

"i could use a hand..." by hand, he had his hand painted in red and with a smack on your ass, your eyes widen. you turn around to see hongjoong smirking at his masterpiece.

"h-hongjoong?! i meant ... i thought on the canvas?" you squealed seeing as he still squeezes a bottle of paint on his hand and spread them like a lotion on his palm before raising them with a shameless plug, "art is not always on canvas dear."

and that is how you found your shirt with a handprint right above your breast. he clicked his tongue in annoyance, "this don't do but i'll keep the shirt. you could use it as your outfit."

you blushed, thinking of walking around in that shirt design by hongjoong. but what made you blushed even more is when he tossed your shirt across the room, leaving you shirtless, too, infront of him.

with the sudden cool air of the room, your nipples perk up making you cover them to which honjoong disapproves and yank your arms down, his eyes were slinted and hard.

"never cover the masterpiece." with his face so close to yours and the aura he gives were sending you in submissive mode. you nodded, meekly, "o-of course."

"art is never perfect, it has flaws and unfinished edges ..." his grip loosen, and they were around your waist pulling you close to him, "yet people appreciate the beauty of it, they look through it and they understand story behind it."

hongjoong places his hand on your breast, "yet some arts are kept a secret." he look through his lashes as his fingertips twist, pull your erected nipples. a gasp left your lips, his lips were pressing softly on your collarbones, your arms were around his shoulders, undoing the strap of his apron, letting the front part fall.

his pump-up chest was pressing on yours as he pulls you even closer, littering your neck with love bites, his paint stain hands were all over your body now, all over your back then a faint of it on your pants as he is undoing your pants then they were back; kneading your ass like a dough.

he pulls them apart before smacking one of it, "love these so much." he spoke, his voice was deep and husky.

he pulls away, looking at paint smudge all over your body, you were just on your underwear, yet it made you look a real masterpiece with the dishellved look and the paint that emphasize your body.

"turn around for me baby." he bit his lip when he saw his handprint on your ass. to tease him, you gave your hips a small shake making your ass jiggle. his eyes widen and his pants never felt so uncomfortable.

"don't do that." you look over your shoulder, gathering your hair upwards like a model, chuckling. you gave your lover another shake before he hisses, removing the apron around his waist.

throwing it somewhere else inside the room, he marches towards you, "when i say don't do that, don't do it."

"what would you do then?"

"... you'll find more prints on your body."

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Konig has a bit of personal time while thinking about you during a mission. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

Fun fact – the sound of blood splattering on the ground is very similar to the sound of hand lotion being squeezed on his hand as he desperately palms his dick at the thought of your legs and the curve of your ass perking from that short skirt of yours. 

Even more fun fact – the way his hands are snapping the enemy's necks are very similar to how roughly he squeezes his cock every time the mere thought of your glossy lips wrapped around that damn pen or twisted in a shy smile appears in his mind. 

Not so fun fact – he is still in the middle of the battlefield, with a huge boner. 

— Sector 3 cleared, sir. 

— Affirm, taking the position on the balcony. Hutch, the breach. 

— On it, sir. Getting company out ‘ere. 

— Horangi, get on Hutch’s sector and help him. 

— Thought I had my break, sir. 

— Scheisse, get on with it!

— Affirm, sir. 

Hutch is in the service of breaking windows – König just hopes that no civilian living in that building would be even more mad at them for doing it than they were before. They aren’t doing much, of course, just saving their lives – but he knows better than anyone how harmful for the reputation it might be. Horangi would help with the extraction of enemy soldiers, and newer recruits would finally have a chance of proving themselves without being a total crapsacks of uselessness. 

They all have their duties and König feels weird for not doing anything particularly important. He kills enemies, of course, he already lost count at how many soldiers he killed once they entered the building with possible threats that are spreaded among the multiple rooms. He gives orders and it’s such a weird motion – he was in charge before, of course. He didn’t get the colonel rank right off the bat, but for the first time in at least 20 years of his service, he feels…bored. Dangerously bored, that kind of bored that makes people do crazy and dangerous stuff just to feel something. 

He might just clear a whole section by himself – he has done it before, he got his first few ranks for being able to kill dozens of enemies while not getting major injuries himself. He almost forgot the rush of bloodlust that a good fight brought him – and he is almost bored enough to not even care whether he would survive this fight or not. Adrenaline is pumping in his head, that urging desire to do something fun is breaking all the doctrines and rules that he obliged when climbing up the hierarchy. 

It’s not really fun, to make your soldiers kill people for you – he would love to do it himself, of course, feel their pulses slowly dying up under his grasp. It’s not really fun, being forced to do everything by the rules, checking if there really are no civilians in these locations, to ask anyone who is not shooting at him immediately, if they want to yield before killing them anyway because they decided to attack him with some secretly holstered weapon. 

He can break his own orders and just eliminate the whole cell by himself – he has done it before already, when he had nothing to lose but his 3 months of experience in the army and some cash that he got from parents when they were still talking to him. It would be fun, really, it might make life worth living again, even for just a second. He picks up his gun in a more productive, dangerous manner, almost falling to the desire to fight hand-to-hand, to see life slowly dying out in their eyes. He can…

There aren’t a lot of things that can really distract him from his bloodlust. The desire to kill, destroy, to do everything in his power to make someone else suffer, pay for the sins of his traumas without knowing shit about it. He never snapped out of it on someone else’s accord before, it was always because he got tired or adrenaline rush washed off from his system. Nothing is able to really calm him down, even the fancy toys his therapist is trying to provide to him as some dumb rituals – breathe, count to ten, please don’t kill everyone in this room because they looked at you funny, all of these useless things. 

There isn't a lot of stuff that comes to mind when he is in battle – except for the desire to kill. But then he thinks of you again, the way you are definitely going to be tight around his cock, probably bulging with outlines of his shaft ravaging your smaller body, how sweet your moans can be while you are screaming his name and making everyone on base know that no, their commander isn’t some sexless and faceless monstrous creature that can never experience human emotions. He thinks of how perfect you would look like under him, begging him to let you cum – and suddenly, even when another enemy is charging at him, feeble attempt to take him by surprise, he isn’t really thinking about how sweet the sound of bullets going through his flesh is. 

Jerking off in the middle of the battlefield isn’t the craziest thing he had done, but he would rather think about your ass in a more comfortable environment. 

— Pick your guts off the floor. 

It’s funny, how the enemy soldier is clenching on his wounds before inevitably falling down. He wants to take some trophy off his body, he seems like an officer of some sorts – and König would gladly bring you a gift. Maybe a finger or an ear – barbaric, of course, but he wants you to understand all parts of his life, not just some lush gifts he can and will also bring you. A perfect girl of his dreams – you and your adorable little smile every time he does something that he almost considered too creepy – would love him for coming home with blood of his enemies on his hands. 

Love of his life – you and that nice pair of legs you have, that would look just perfect on his shoulders as he bullies his whole length inside your body – would adore him for each kill he has, for each life of his enemies that he took. He wants to imagine your face if you knew how dangerous he is – would you be scared? He would calm you down immediately, he would try to be gentle, but you have to know how strong he is, this is the point! 

Love of his life – you and that pretty mouth of yours that he stares all of the time, wondering how cute you would be with lips wrapped around his cock, throat gagging at his shaft – would appreciate him for his job, no matter how many lives he took. You would understand that in order for you not to have to work, he needs to be as strong and capable as possible – he has enough savings and enough paychecks to keep you afloat, making you his adorable little housewife. With kids running around, possibly – he never thought about children before, never had the right time and a right person but with you and your caring nature, creating a little family would be just perfect. 

— Holy shit, sir. Permission to enter? 

Horangi looks at the room in front of him – bodies of enemies laying around, some with knife stabs, some with nothing more than one deliberate bullet. He knows his colonel’s work, he was working with König from his first deployment in KorTac, but this…he would never get used to the way his commander can just throw people around like sacks of apples without a care in the world. He smiles under his mask, appreciating how they won’t have to clean up after. Perks of being a merc, not a member of the actual army. 

— Granted. Don’t slip on blood, sergeant. 

König smiles under his mask and wipes some of the blood that splattered on his hood. Shit, he would have to wash it later – he has spare ones, of course, some of the old ratty shirts he has from that weird rock phase he has at the start of his deployment with mercenaries. His thoughts trails to your body and how adorable you would look in his clothes – you are so much smaller than him, and he is simply too damn big to anyone, so no matter your body type, you would look like an angel in his T-shirt. 

Fuck. 

The thought of simply jerking off in the middle of the battlefield to get off with some tension from thinking about you in his clothes trails on his mind. No one would notice, probably, they are already running faster than scheduled for this mission – and judging by the way he just murdered a whole rooms worth of terrorists while dreaming of your body stretched on his cock, he still has a bit of time for himself. What was this weird shit about taking care of yourself that his therapist suggested? Flower masks? Drinking blood of his enemies? Sipping cheap alcohol while calling it self-care because he can always find a really nice snack in between those perfect legs of yours? 

— Are you alright, sir? Can’t believe you did it by yourself. 

Horangi takes a note of the bulge growing in his commander’s pants and hell no, he isn't going to be a part of this. He appreciates everything that König is doing, he is a great soldier, a father to his men, even though he is barely older than some of them, he isn’t that type of monster that would lead troops to certain death – but Hong-jin won’t take a part of whatever deranged kink he has. He might appreciate it from afar, he might send his condolences to the poor girl that caught his attention – but he doesn’t want to be here when the deranged monster of his commander would want some warm body to bury his dick in. 

Maybe he should get that girl’s number and call her immediately. 

Maybe he should do what a good sergeant is supposed to, and call a graveyard service right away. And some plan B in case the girl would survive. 

— Not broken. What is the situation in other sectors? 

— All good. Hutch broke a computer, sending the data to base now. 

— Think we got the lead? 

— Who knows, sir. They are sneaky bastards. 

Honestly, König wouldn’t be so sad about having to stop in this country for a bit longer. He just needs some more time to court you, to find you a right ring – he knows that he can’t propose right away, mother raised a gentleman who doesn’t want to hurt his bride by forcing her too much. He would possibly need another month, with how rare your encounters are. Fuck, he wants to be with you, find time to at least visit your house at night when you are probably asleep, not even thinking about a silent force protecting you from not just terrorist scum, but anyone who can hurt you. 

You would love something shiny, he knows it – maybe a big diamond in the middle, probably platinum as a metal of choice. He hates how cheap gold looks sometimes, he hates how flashy that is – but he would buy you anything your heart could possibly want. Maybe a necklace, something to remember him buying – you would look adorable with bruises from his grip on your neck, and some delicate charm in the softness of your collarbones. 

Thinking about you on the battlefield only makes his life tighter and his dick harder – he doesn’t want to be indecent in front of his soldiers, so he dismisses Horangi and calls on the comms to finish the mission. 

*** He has enough self-control to not jerk off at the thought of your body in the middle of the mission. 

However, he doesn’t have enough self-control not to jerk off at the thought of your body, glossing in the water next to him as he fantasizes about you two sharing a shower. Not on the base, obviously, even without dozens of naked bodies of his men around him – he technically has a separate shower room, but something about people staring at each other’s naked butts makes their bond stronger, and he tries to be close with his men, so they would stop being so fucking scared of their commander. Even though some recruit already started to prepare funerals for whatever poor girl their colonel has an eye on – mostly because no woman should be subjected to the sheer torture of having sex with…that. 

He enters showers the last, hoping that no one would stare at him this time – having a boner after the mission is normal, adrenaline kicking in, the urge to reproduce making soldiers into a horny bastards, but he still doesn’t want anyone to stare too closely. 

He palms himself at the thought of you with him, helping each other shower – he will buy you some expensive body lotion, stuff that all the girls are obsessed with, as he thinks. He would never tell anyone how much he also likes bath products that smell sweet, like roses or candies – that he visited that extremely bright body shop too many times per months, buying all of this expensive bath bombs to just stare at them and remember that yeah, even the colonel’s apartment on base doesn’t have bathtub and he can’t really use it. 

He thinks about buying a house with a large bathroom – so you can take baths together and indulge in shower sex way more often than a man in his years should. He would love to take you to the mall or something like this, to hold the stuff you bought while you would later for it on your knees in front of him. He would…

König knows that he is big – that he would probably destroy your pussy the first time you two would have sex. You would squirm under him, begging him to take it out – he won’t, of course, you need to learn how to take his cock properly, how to please your future husband as a good girl you are. He will try to be gentle, but the self-control he has is slipping very thin lately – he can’t even sustain the modest thoughts about you in battle, when he is supposed to be worried about saving his life. 

He spread the lotion on his dick – nothing flowery, the fragrance isn’t even distantly sweet, he doesn’t want his soldiers to think of him weirdly for not having a typical manly shower product, of course, he has a bloodthirsty reputation to uphold. He palms his dick with zero gentleness, knowing already that softness isn’t going to cut it out for him right now. He wants to know how you will do it – will you be soft with him, scared of making him feel pain from your actions? Or will you try to be faster, make him beg for release only to tease him more and more, completely subverting the power dynamic you have? He would be alright with everything, as long as it's your hands on his body, as long as you are giving him your full attention. 

He tries to be quiet, not to moan your name – adorable fucking name, how could someone so goddamn perfect even exist on this earth, let alone actually be in his presence. He doesn’t just have a chance with you – he will take you no matter what, knowing exactly what your little smiles and silly giggles left. You might not be as obsessed with him as he is, but he will make you, eventually. He touches himself with roughness, not allowing even an inch of gentleness as he palms his dick, teasing his tip and imagining your hand instead of his. 

He is completely normal and totally not a creep while imagining a woman that is probably twice younger than him. He can be a little bit weird, of course, but you were giving him nothing but the right signals – he already got used to rejection in the past, but something in that adorable look in your eyes told him that you wouldn’t be like his past crushes. He would be embarrassed at liking you so badly, but what can he do if you are just so damn adorable? 

He cums in his hand and thanks god that water is quick enough to wash away the evidence of his shame – he doesn’t want to jerk off anymore, he wants to be with you, as close as possible. You were already seeing each other for more than a week, and if you count your meetings as dates, you would be at third already – and like a good girl you are, you now can have sex with him without looking like a slut. He would wait for you, of course, but every day spent without hearing your voice is making him go crazy. And, well, this isn’t very good for his job performance – as a good soldier and amazing leader, he is obliged to have an obedient little thing on his lap, as a way of making him relaxed. He wonders if there is some government program for that case. *** You think about this guy – König, colonel, fighter with terrorists and a supposed hero in rusty, camo armor. He is so much older than you – you saw the news about him, not really talking about the age, of course, but you did the math already. He can’t be any younger than late thirties, and the thought of having such an older man pinning over you is…scary. And a little bit delightful. Not like you need to have someone as dangerous as him with you right now, you have too much troubles already while living in a terrorist infested country and working at a shitty low wage job without any protection, dating a guy who probably has a girlfriend in each country he got deployed in isn’t something you need. 

You know how military men are like – a bunch of teenagers in adult suits, they are being spoon fed with propaganda about the glory of their arms and have absolutely zero respect for women and the general population. Guy probably already has a wife! She sits somewhere in secret, maybe raising some adorable Austrian kids, all while her husband is doing very unfaithful stuff with other ladies overseas. 

You don’t even like him – you never saw his face and while yes, he is kinda mysterious and it makes you want to do things with him, you are also value your safety and desire not to get used by some rich military asshole who is…actually very shy and can’t even look you in the eyes while giving you money and whispering a bit dirty things in your ears. 

However, you have a really important thing tonight – a really nice guy from the cafe you work at, the waiter from the second shift, asked you out! Not on a date, as he said, but you wouldn’t be against going out to drink with him and possibly taking your relationships a bit further. Dating your coworkers might be the only possibly fun thing you can do at such a devastatingly shitty job as yours, and you are going to turn that into the situationships of a lifetime. 

You are too excited to be out with someone your age to even look around you. 

König, just spending his free time after a successful infiltration op that lasted 3 days – without you, terrible, terrible situations – wasn’t as unaware of your presence. And he already crossed the reasons why he should even let you work at this cafe at this point. 

Maybe, the owner deserves a little visit. Right after the guy you went out with, of course. No one knows who can be a possible criminal, right?  (Comments & asks are appreciated!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ TAG LIST @shigbby @honeeybeezzz @herefornanami-s-cake @pendalikespasta @lucylou302 @yxllowtxpe @sunbathed-sweetgrass @sarah-ardini @teenagegever2k22 @lastwordsofadyingstar @lavenderskye29 @karrotsforyou @inlovewithcodmen @onegami @keithehe @lilahbunny @ameneminimo @beepyboopbop @ms-munchkin @dinonacho @undeadgod

[quietthoughtsandmusings]

Depth of Devotion

First post! This is just a little fantasy I've decided to put down to share with yall about our favorite Austrian. Feedback is appreciated and if you have any suggestions for anymore I'd love to hear them! Be gentle with me I will cry.

Part of a longer story? 🤔

Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Mention of she/her pronouns

By this time König knew your scent by heart. He could pick it out from a crowd like a bloodhound and after your unfortunate mishap with your purchases the other day he now finally knew what lotion you used, as the contents of your ripped grocery bag sent the bottle of lotion rolling to his front door on the floor of the apartment building you shared. Therefore it was only right that he went out and purchased the same kind that day. König closed the door of his apartment and leaned against it. Back shoved against the cheap wood. “God,” he thought “I feel like a teenager again.” Dropping the shopping bag he fumbled with his pants, desperate to set his painful erection free from its confines. König tugs the hem of his t shirt up and places it between his teeth mainly to get it out of his way and to stiffle him moans since the walls were thin.   As his cock sprung from his boxers he reached his hand down into the shopping bag and fished out his new purchase. Pumping some of the lotion into his hand he was immediately hit with that oh so familiar smell, making his painfully hard cock twitch with arousal. Closing his eyes as the smell of you filled the air around him, he began to stroke his cock, smearing the lotion all over it. Mixing you and him together. He imagined you were in the room with him doing his best to imagine it was your hand and not his own. He shivers at the thought and his breath comes out shakily through his nose. One could say he was depraved, sick for jacking off with the same lotion you used but at this point he needed something, anything to keep him from taking you every time he saw you. He was desperate for you, feral for you, but he was not a creep he would wait for you to come to him. To tell him that you needed him and all that he could give you. As König stroked himself he imagined it was you sliding up and down on him. Your wet pussy gripping him, reciprocating his desperation for release. Swallowing him physically and emotionally. He imagined your tits bouncing with every slam of your hips glistening with sweat and his spit. He imagined what your moans would sound like. God, he hoped you were loud so all the neighbors would know not to come near you for you were his. Would you say his name? Tell him how good he felt inside of you? Beg him to cum inside you? As all these thoughts coursed through his mind, his breath quickened, his moans getting harder to choke back. He could feel the sweat beading at his temples as he worked himself. “Show me how you play with it, show me.” He panted, he was close. The fire in his belly burning brighter. Grunting König imagined you picking up your pace chasing your own orgasm. He works himself closer and closer to the edge. Pumping his hips into the twisting of his hand “That's a good girl, that's a good fucking girl.” saying the last part through gritted teeth he feels his cock twitch and throb as he cums. The pleasure numbing his mind to anything else that could have been happening at that moment. Yes. This is what he needed, for now. Though it would only hold him over for so long. He slowly opens his eyes to sees the thick ropes of cum on the floor of his apartment. What a waste he thinks. Wishing it was buried deep within your pussy. Leaking out from your abused hole only for him to scoop it up with his fingers and shove it back inside you. Marking you as his. The most intimate of tasks. He cleans himself and his mess, not bothering to wash the smell of you off him. To him this is how he shows the world he belongs to you even if you don't know the depth of his devotion, yet. 

[wilbursprincess]

“Damn, You’re Hard as a Rock!”

Simpbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Reader walks in on Simpbur jerking off to a picture of her, handjob, sub!Simpbur (when is he not tbh), masturbation

Another one I yoinked from the vault! At this point, we all know my soft spot for Simpbur, so I wrote this for one of the days in Fictober. It’s one of my personal favorites so I hope you enjoy! Been neglecting my vault due to my irl friend informing me he found my blog (ily dw) and the sheer number of asks as of late!

Smut under cut!

“Will, I’m home!” I call out, slipping off my coat and hanging up my purse. I peek my head into the living room, expecting to see him watching a movie, waiting up for me, but nothing.

The only place I haven’t looked is in our bedroom, and as I walk towards it, the door is shut, light spilling under the crack at the bottom of the door.

I push open the door, sighing. “Sorry I was so late, the bus took ages, and-” Cutting myself off abruptly when I look up, seeing exactly why Wilbur didn’t respond when I got home.

Jeans around his ankles, my favorite tube of hand cream laying next to him, one hand holding his phone, the glowing screen displaying whatever he’s getting off too, the other hand working up and down his lotion-slick cock.

“You’re home!” He says, an embarrassed smile growing on his face.

Laughing, I sit down on the bed next to him. “You missed me, huh?”

Wilbur nods sheepishly, spinning around his phone so I can see he’s been looking at a photo of me, stretched out by a pool in a lime-green bikini.

“Well, I’m flattered,” I say, grabbing the tube of hand cream. “Do you want me to-”

He frantically nods, letting go of his cock, and it lightly slaps against his stomach. Gently kissing him on the forehead before slicking up my hand, slowly starting to work up and down his length.

“Damn, you’re hard as a rock!” I comment, twisting my thumb over his tip and making him groan. “You really did miss me!”

“I tried to wait until you got home,” Wilbur pants, breaking off with a low moan. “Sorry.”

I shake my head, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I love giving you a hand.”

Wilbur grins, a blissful expression in his pleasure-glazed eyes. “Fuck, why does it feel so much better when you do it?”

His hips keep jumping up, trying to thrust into my hand as I give him long, slow strokes, rubbing my thumb on the sensitive spot on the underside of the head. Wilbur’s breaths are coming faster, moans and other beautiful noises dripping from his mouth more and more as he gets closer to his climax.

“Gonna cum for me?” I coo, speeding up my hand and making him whine, hips jutting up into my hand. “What was that, Will? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Wilbur whimpers, cock twitching in my hand. “Yes, fuck.”

A few more pumps of my hand, and he’s spilling all over my hand, drops landing on his exposed stomach and even a few on the sheets.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, the post-orgasm haze making him cuddly as usual. “I missed you.”

Laughing, I squirm away from his embrace. “No! You’ll get cum all over my dress! I’ll get you a towel.”

I toss him the one I keep in my nightstand for times just like this, then head over to Wilbur’s closet, swapping my dress for one of his t-shirts, changing from heels into fuzzy socks.

Crawling back onto our bed, he’s taken off his jeans, just in a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. Wilbur wraps me into his outstretched arms, letting me swing a leg over his waist and snuggle into his chest.

“I love you so much, baby girl,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

My heart swells with the soft glow of love, and I run my fingers through his fluffy brown curls. “I love you too, Will.

[h3k3t]

Okay one more I promise this is the last one (prob)

~🧸

Namoraxreaderxattuma 18+

You touched yourself (and came) without permission and punishment awaits

Namora and Attuma were busy people, occasionally having to leave you to go fight for talokan and business calls from time to time you understood this was bound to happen when you started your relationship with them. “They’re warriors” those two words circling inside your mind as they left off to fight on the sides of namor. You had a few chores to do around your shared household and a few emails to respond to but nothing major to keep you busy.

A few hours pass by and the house is sparkling. Your inbox is clear and there’s nothing interesting on the tv. You decide to take an early bath to relax. An idea popped inside your head, and it felt like there were two creatures sitting on your shoulders. An angelic like voice in your head telling you to be good and just find something to do, to distract yourself for the time being, and that sinful voice telling you to do exactly what you want they won’t notice..right? You bit your lip in excitement feeling your arousal beginning to announce itself. You hurry to turn the faucet on and put lavender and Vanilla soaps and oils inside the tub.

After your warm bath you lather yourself in vanilla lotions and crème’s, then putting on your jade green lingerie set. making sure it fits perfectly you throw on a robe for extra comfort. You wanted to be a tease for them when they came back so you clipped on some of the jade necklaces they bought you with their initials carved inside the stone You decide on a bracelet as well both jewelry’s matching your lingerie set perfectly.

As you feel around your side table drawer you feel a thick silicone cock. (On special occasions namora uses on you) it’s blue color and ribbed details has your cunt aching in anticipation. You move your panties to the side and rub it up and down your sensitive pussy, circling it on your clit while whimpering softly. You decide to progress and slip the thick (we’re talking a little narrower than Attumas size) tip inside of your hole biting your lip at the stretch. You watch it go inside of you slowly getting to the hilt you release the breath you were previously holding and curse at how fucking full you feel

When you get use to the feeling you start fucking yourself nice and slow, just like how namora would fuck you, slow thrusts and gentle force. Moaning out their names, you fuck yourself a little faster, bringing your hand down to rub your clit gently. You close your eyes and think about times when they absolutely ruined you. Times when you were split open on attumas cock him shooting his cum (deep) inside of you while whispering dirty shit in your ear, and the times you were gripping the sheets high off of the feeling of namoras tongue lapping you up in an feral matter

You get closer and closer to the edge rubbing your clit even faster, crying out their names now seeing your arousal come out onto your sheets (fuck you just cleaned the bed) feeling that sensation rise about to snap, when suddenly you hear heavy footsteps enter the house. You froze your mind blanking but your fingers don’t stop moving. You hear grumbling from the living room and namora putting her spear down.

It snapped. In an instant you start cumming you cry out loudly, your thighs shaking while you pump the toy in and out of you as the waves of your orgasm start to settle down. They come rushing in thinking that you might’ve hurt yourself but they see you with your eyes closed breathing erratically with a thick silicone cock stuffed between those pretty puffy little lips and your cum oozing out onto the sheets and around the toy. Attuma whispers something to namora in Yucatan mayan and You open your eyes to see namoras face twisting in anger (and a hint of something else) and attuma smirking while looking down at you.

You disobeyed the rules just for one measly orgasm yes you know, but as fearful you are for what comes next you are excited to be punished (brat mode: 100%) and by the looks of it namora will be handling you tonight. “What do we have here?” Attuma comes closer to you seeing you put on the jewelry they got you his breath hitching after noticing “you couldn’t wait for us little one” namora barked out in anger “fine you decided to be a brat tonight I will treat you like one.” She says with an evil glint in her eyes

Part 2? idk if this was good or not but lmk if you want me to continue lol 😭❤️

And sorry again if there’s any errors/mistakes I didn’t proofread it’s like 2 am where I live <3

~🧸

I NEED PART 2 SO BAD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!

OMG a jade dildo with Namora and Attuma?! And they want to punish me?!?! My mind empty and legs wide open 🥴🫠

If they decided to use me as a punching bag or whatever I wouldn't back down, for those two this and more.

Anyway you can send me all the confessions or ideas you want without any problem, I love to read them

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@wolfstarmicrofic august 25 — blistering — 1.2k words — lesbian wolfstar — nsfw-ish (smut in part2 below)

“Ok,” Remus announces as she throws the keys into the bowl by the front door, “No more direct sunbathing for the next two days.”

Sirius makes a discontented noise that sounds a lot like Moony before she’s throwing herself dramatically over the arm of the leather sofa, hissing when her back hits the cushions.

“Save it,” putting as little room for argument into her tone as she is possibly capable of—which isn’t a lot but it’s Sirius’ body we’re talking about here, so Remus puts her foot down, “And you’re using that After Sun stuff after you’ve showered.”

Sirius whines pitifully, one elbow sticking up behind the couch, which means she’s thrown a forearm over her eyes in defamation.

Remus sighs as she sets the bag on the counter and goes to put their fruit juices-dirty lunchboxes into the dishwasher, “I could already see the white little blisters forming over the red of your shoulder, Sirius, I mean it.”

Sirius grumbles for another minute and then her head is peeking over the sofa, chin propping on the backrest, looking impossibly sweet, “Can you do it for me, Moons?”

Remus frowns, is about to argue when she realizes it’s futile because Sirius will find an excuse for not doing it herself either way. And she would struggle reaching the middle of her back anyways. 

If Remus can help slather her in SPF she can do this too, it’ll be fine.

It is not fine.

The way Sirius had sauntered out of the bathroom, throwing Remus a wink and a grin, hair sopping wet, ends dripping and carelessly leaving a wet trail in her wake and wearing nothing but a tiny string, had absolutely and definitely not been fine.

And when Remus had trudged back into her bedroom after her own turn in the shower dressed in soft shorts and an old T, lotion in hand, Sirius was sinfully splayed out over the thin sheets. 

Already on her front, one leg hiked up and clutching a pillow where she was dozing lazily.

Remus walks over with a lump in her throat and settles carefully on the mattress, nudging Sirius’ arm, “Hey.”

She gets a grunt in response.

“Budge up,” Remus says, the click of the bottle cap loud in the room.

Sirius peeks an eye open at the sound and then stuffles around a bit to make room for Remus to properly kneel next to her.

And so, Remus gets to work.

Slides the half-dried length of Sirius’ wavy hair over one shoulder and fans it out over the pillow. 

Sirius sighs, because she loves when Remus plays with her hair and scratches her scalp. Demands it often enough for Remus to know so she drags her short nails over Sirius skull a few times before she gets on with the After Sun.

Her friend sighs heavily, brows knitting in pleasure and that’s dangerous territory so Remus abandons that after a few more seconds and pumps a fat dollop of the cool, aloe smelling fluid onto her finger.

Rubs it a bit between her palms, “This is gonna be a little cold.”

Sirius hums in understanding and Remus notes her brace herself in the way her nose crickles a bit and then she hisses at the first cool touch of contact.

“Sorry,” Remus gently spreads the lotion between the wings of Sirius’ shoulder blades, marked by the pale strips that were protected from the sun by Sirius’ bikini.

Her eyelids flutter a bit, “S’fine.” Lashes long, and Remus is momentarily distracted.

Sirius lifts her arms obediently when Remus goes around the sides of her ribcage to get the edges of the sunburn, slumping back when Remus’ fingers retreat from the area. The whole time her eyes stay closed.

And then Remus is urging her to prop up on her forearms—which Sirius complies rather sluggish, complaining slurred, “Been nearly driftin’ off, Moons,”—to get her burnt shoulders.

Remus’ face twists into a grimace, “I think this may hurt a bit.”

Sirius hangs her head and makes a pitiful noise.

“I know, I know,” and before Remus can think she plants a small kiss on the jutt of her shoulder blade, hands occupied with the After Sun, “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

And goes on when Sirius nods a bit jerkily.

Predictably, it does hurt. 

Sirius moans pained, and Remus makes an apologetic noise as she puts even less pressure behind where she rubs the soothing lotion into Sirius’ overly warm skin. 

She keeps spreading it on every red surface and caressing her fingertips and palms over Sirius smooth skin until she’s done, all the cream absorbed.

Remus sits back and Sirius plops back down but before she can even think about standing up to wash her hands she’s held up.

Body freezing and eyes unblinking as Sirius- as Sirius proceeds to wiggle her ass, the swell of it shaking and flesh perky and nicely formed and also sunburned, “Moony, my bum.”

And Remus’ eyes skate up to her face because she must be having her on. 

But Sirius has got her eyes closed again and lower lip tucked in her mouth, like she tends to when she’s unsure about asking for things she wants. Nervous about being turned down.

And Remus would literally never, not in a million years so she hums in acknowledgment and squeezes more aloe lotion onto her fingers.

The string helps, funnily enough. 

Is so skimpy that Remus can just skirt her hands around it, doesn’t have to lift any offending fabric to be sure to have gotten every inch of precious skin. Other than when she’s asked to put SPF on Sirius back where she has to lift the strap, dipping her fingers underneath and it feeling far too intimate.

Which is stupid since Remus is now full on handling Sirius’ hot-skinned ass cheeks and it should feel dirty but instead it just feels pleasant. Like Remus is taking care of Sirius, which, well- she guesses she is.

What does feel dirty though is when Remus continues her path down the back of Sirius thighs. 

Usually milky white but today they’re angry red and so Remus slathers the lotion down there as well and then Sirius parts her legs.

Remus looks up at her but she’s still staring at the headboard, head turned front so Remus continues, dipping the tips of her finger down the inside of her thighs.

Sirius exhales a shaky breath through her nose, audible from Remus’ position so she asks, “Everything okay?”

The hum is a little more high-pitched than the regular one, “Jus’ cold.”

Remus nods dumbly and proceeds to smooth her fingers along Sirius’ thighs.

She’s massaging the aloe in until Sirius skin is nearly dry again, Remus’ fingers starting to ache dimly.

Gives one of Sirius’ asscheeks a gentle swat when she announces, “All done.”

Sirius leaves a bit of a strangled noise, which doesn’t sound entirely fake and dramatic and has Remus promptly feeling bad, unsure about the amount of force she used.

But Sirius hums again, long and low, overly content and then she’s wiggling onto her back, mattress bouncing, and demanding, “Do my front.”

-

(read the rest here)

[plumsfromyouricebox]

and now for something from the dumpster-fire portion of my imagination:

mike wheeler x max mayfield - 1.3k words

rating: E

tags/warnings: shameless smut, masturbation, mild degradation kink, frenemies, max bullies mike while he jerks off lol

author's note: i don't even know what this is, y'all, it just popped into my head and I literally wrote it on my notes app at 1am. I might post it on AO3 someday, but in the meantime, it's a tumblr exclusive. If you want more madwheeler check me out here!

***

Mike moved quickly as he made his way through Steve’s house, dripping water all over the hardwood floors. He adjusted his towel, clutching it tightly around his waist in an attempt to conceal the situation going on in his swim trunks. 

It was all Max’s fault. Her and that ridiculous new swimsuit she was wearing. 

Every summer since he'd known her she'd always just worn a one-piece. Not even a particularly flattering one, just something sporty in a dark colour with wide straps. 

But now. Now she seemed to have acquired some tiny two-piece thing that was little more than triangles of light blue fabric tied together with string. It barely covered anything. It was absurd. 

He flung open the door of the small, pastel pink basement bathroom and closed himself inside, pleasantly surprised to find that the toilet lid had one of those plush covers that made sitting on it much more comfortable. 

Breathing hard, his fingers tore at the laces of his swim trunks and he inched them down to pull his dick out. He couldn’t believe he had to do this, but this boner was refusing to go away. 

There was some sort of fancy lotion on the counter so he leaned over and pumped a small amount into his hand, spreading it between his palms before wrapping one around his aching hardness. 

For the past hour, she’d been stretched out on a pool float, all freckles and pale skin, sipping Diet Pepsi through a straw as she watched the boys smack each other with pool noodles. 

Thankfully Mike’s sunglasses hid his eyes so she didn’t notice his continuous staring. He had no idea how Lucas and Dustin hadn’t been driven to similar insanity. 

Why, why did the most annoying person in his life also have to be insanely hot? 

It almost felt like she was doing it on purpose today—meticulously massaging sunscreen onto every inch of her skin, diving into the pool and slowly pulling herself out, giving him ample time to get a long look at her ass. 

Closing his eyes, Mike thought of the water droplets running down her body, how he wanted to trace their path with his tongue. 

Then he heard the horrible click of the doorknob turning and his eyes flew open just as Max burst in, her hair wet and skin glistening with moisture.  

“Agh!” He twisted to the side, yanking his trunks up with one hand and covering himself with the other. 

Shit, she’d definitely seen what he was doing. This was so fucking mortifying, he was never going to live this down. 

Then he realized that instead of backing out in horror and leaving him to his humiliation, she was stepping further into the room, closing the door behind her before flipping the lock he’d so foolishly forgotten about earlier. 

Mike watched in total bewilderment as Max leaned back against the door just a few feet across from him, giving him a long once-over. “Well, don’t let me stop you.” 

“What?!” he hissed. “Get out of here, Max! I'm not gonna… do this in front of you.” 

“Why not?” She tilted her head. “You were thinking about me weren’t you?” 

Mike paled. “What? No–” 

“You’re a bad liar.” 

Then, to Mike’s complete disbelief, she casually shifted the triangles of her bikini top to either side, exposing the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. 

Granted, they were the only breasts he’d ever seen, but he couldn’t see how these ones could possibly be improved upon. 

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, his erection surging back to life as his mouth dropped open in shock. What was she doing? 

But she just leaned her head back against the door and nodded at his lap. “Keep going.” 

Mike narrowed his eyes. She wanted to watch him? There was no way. She was totally bullshitting—just teasing him so she could laugh at him later. 

Deciding to call her bluff, he tugged his shorts back down and removed his hands, letting his cock rest against his stomach. 

But Max didn’t shriek and cover her eyes like he’d been expecting. She just raised her eyebrows impatiently, urging him to continue. 

Okay… Well, he wasn’t about to be the first one to back down from this little game of chicken. 

Swallowing hard, he took hold of himself again, squeezing lightly before starting to move his hand up and down his shaft. 

“Were you thinking about touching me?” Max asked, chuckling when he reluctantly nodded after a few seconds. “I would never let you.” 

She arched her back as she ran her hands over herself, squeezing her breasts and playing with her hardened, rosy nipples. “What else?” 

Mike was so confused. Was this turning her on? But then why was she still being so mean? And why did he like it?

“I– I think about you sucking my dick,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to those perfect lips that he’d envisioned wrapped around his cock. One side pulled up into a smirk. 

“As if I’d ever put that tiny thing anywhere near my mouth,” she snorted. 

Mike glared at her, slowly stroking his entire length and making sure she saw. He knew objectively he wasn’t small, but he decided to play along and let her keep talking. This situation was bizarre, but it was also inexplicably hot. 

“Maybe if I was somehow extremely desperate I’d sit on your face.” She grinned, blue eyes sparkling with delight. “Just to get you to shut the fuck up for once.” 

Oh, Jesus. Mike couldn’t stop the groan that came from the back of his throat at her words. 

Usually, he found her voice grating, probably because that sharp tongue of hers was often delivering an insult or a joke at his expense. Now he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I’d make you beg for it first, though…” She pulled up the sides of her bikini bottoms so he could see the outline of her between her legs. His dick throbbed against his palm. “…for the privilege of tasting me.” 

Fuck. He’d do it too. He’d probably do anything she asked of him if she kept letting him look at her like this; talking to him like this. 

He tightened his grip on his shaft, moving faster and more purposefully, a familiar coiling pressure building at the base of his spine as liquid beaded at the tip. 

“You know how fucking sad this is, right?” 

Mike nodded. He did know. Fantasizing so hard about a girl who barely tolerated his presence that he had to crank one out in their friend's bathroom. He was such a loser. 

Max crossed her arms, pushing her tits up and together in a way that made him want to stick his face in between them. 

“Hurry up and finish already, I'm getting bored,” she stated flatly, despite the fact that her cheeks were stained pink and her breathing was audibly faster. 

His gaze roved all over her body, lingering on her face when he noticed her staring intently at the hand that was working himself to a climax. 

And then she pulled that full, tempting lower lip between her teeth and that was all it took to send him over the edge. 

Her eyes widened as he came over his stomach and fingers with a shuddering gasp, fighting to keep his own eyes open and locked on her. 

Smiling, she lifted her gaze to his with a slow shake of her head. “Fucking pathetic.” 

Then she straightened up, calmly readjusted her swimsuit, and left without so much as a glance back, closing the door firmly behind her. 

After a few seconds, Mike snapped out of his post-orgasm stupor and reached for the tissue box, head spinning as he cleaned himself off. 

He didn’t know what the hell that had been, but he knew he was definitely getting her back for it. 

[crissiebaby]

The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, crossdressing, inappropriate language, humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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*CREAK!*

The turgid, antique dresser squeaked angrily as Stacy pried open the heavy drawer. She gazed down at the array of pajama pants, soft t-shirts, and silky lingerie with a crooked smile. Having only packed a small selection of prissy dresses and babyish PJs, she was woefully unprepared when it came to the subject of Big clothing. Luckily for her, Latasha had plenty of options to choose from.

Dragging her fingertips along the lacy fabric of Latasha’s lingerie, Stacy contemplated going all out and dawning the salacious attire. To her surprise, merely clutching the lingerie was enough to make her face glow red with shyness. Despite her cool girl demeanor, she’d never gotten the opportunity to wear something so indubitably sexy. Balking from her grip on the buttery smooth negligee, she instead picked out a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a simple, light yellow t-shirt with the words, Wine Mama, written in cursive across the bust.

With the clothing folded neatly in her hands, Stacy retreated to Latasha’s private lavatory. Unlike the compact nature of the downstairs bathroom, the master bathroom was far more expansive, possessing both a jacuzzi and a shower stall as well as a separate toilet. Though for as nice as the spacious latrine was, the bratty blonde was unphased thanks to the penthouse bathroom she had waiting for her at home. Setting the PJs down on the sink countertop, she slowly stripped down until only her nappy and diaper cover remained. She momentarily admired her perky, bare chest and athletic physique, contrasting the infantile nature of her lower undergarment. It was a stunning reflection, to say the least, but in order to continue, she would have to part with her precious padding.

Stacy let her hand gingerly trace her tightly swaddled hips before hooking her thumbs around the waistband of her plastic panties and cloth diaper. Goosebumps lined her thighs and forearms as a rush of fresh air brushed against her moistened crotch. “No more accidents,” she whispered to herself as if reminding her subconscious to secure her bladder. Shifting the diaper around her bodacious booty, she quickly stepped back as the sopping microfiber plopped down onto the tile floor. She then proceeded to tidy up by placing the swollen padding into the mesh laundry bag that she used for her soiled nappies. It was a caregiver’s job to keep the house clean, after all.

Opening the shower’s frosted glass partition, Stacy twisted the sterling silver knob to turn the water on. Her hand hovered beneath the clear, trickling liquid, waiting for it to warm to her liking. Once satisfied with the water’s temperature, she stepped into the stall, angling the showerhead downward to avoid wetting her hair. A full shower would certainly be overkill. Dispensing three pumps of citrus-scented body wash into her palm, she diligently washed her pelvic area free of all baby powder and lotion. Such puerile substances were unbecoming of an adult.

Capping off her two-minute shower by rinsing the suds away from her lower half, Stacy exited the glass booth, her soaking wet feet drenching the floor. She paid little mind to the drippy trail she left behind in her wake, focusing instead on procuring a towel. With a towel wrapped around her damp waist, the bougie-rich girl parked herself on the lip of the toilet to air dry. For the next ten minutes, she scrolled through Xwitter whilst the water droplets that decorated her legs and thighs slowly evaporated. Boredom would inevitably push her to manually wipe away the rest of the moisture but not until after she had quelled her social media addiction.

Now fully dry, Stacy returned to the pajamas she had set aside. A mischievous giggle escaped her lips as the cozy bottoms worked their way up her legs. She playfully snapped the elastic waistband against her hips. While she wasn’t keenly aware of it, she hadn’t gone without padding in nearly four months, making her commando status all the more foreign. Sliding on the t-shirt, she spun in front of the mirror to check out her slightly less-curvy reflection. “I feel more grown-up already,” she said, downplaying how much she missed the additional bulk around her posterior.

Forcing those childish, carnal desires from her mind, Stacy turned to leave the bathroom. However, she stopped just before breaking the bedroom’s threshold as her eyes spotted a pair of glimmering diamond earrings resting in the center of a small jewelry case. Curious how she would look in something so elegant, she sashayed back to the sink coyly and retrieved the formal fashion pieces, holding them up to each ear. Sadly, it didn’t matter how good the earrings looked pressed against her ear lobe. Without piercings, the most she could do was admire the diamond studs enviously. A stark chill crept up her spine at the idea of stabbing a hole through her ears.

Annoyed by her own immaturity, Stacy discarded the earrings back into the jewelry case and exited the bathroom in a huff. The discontented anti-Little flopped onto the bed and let out a painfully long groan, feeling significantly less Big than she had hoped she would by this point. That groan quickly transitioned into a strained sigh as she glared at the logline on her phone that read, “No new messages.” 

Tossing her phone aside and scowling up at the popcorn-textured ceiling, Stacy's frustration finally hit its boiling point, “What the heck are Bigs even supposed to do?!”

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*CREAK!*

The well-worn, wooden crib bars of Skye’s nursery crib squealed like a whining piglet as Connor gingerly lowered them to the floor. All the while, his eyes were fixed on Ellie, who was snoring as loud as a jackhammer. Knowing Ellie, her boisterous voice was almost certain to bring Stacy downstairs. It would be far safer to let her sleep.

Tiptoeing out onto the soft carpet with his sore, wobbly legs, Connor's ridiculously crinkly diaper and swishy nightie had him cringing with every sonorous step. A line of blush formed along his cheekbones as he was stricken by memories of his fateful evening and subsequent morning with Latasha during his first week at the Padded Palace. Oh, how far he had come, snickering as he looked upon his girly apparel and the poofy padding that accompanied it. Adding to the intense level of irony he felt was the fact that Riri currently resided with the very crib Latasha had seen fit to lock him within after stumbling upon the ABDL crime scene he had made of the nursery. If only she could see him now…actually, scratch that. He wasn’t certain he could handle the amount of blush that would be heaped onto him if Latasha found him in such a sissified state. Good thing he had the entire weekend to sort this mess out.

*WEE! WOO! WEE! WOO! WEE WOO!*

All of a sudden, miniature red and blue lights flashed as an ear-piercing alarm blared out across the nursery. Connor stumbled forward, his heart exploding out of his chest as he craned his neck back toward the source of the high-pitched noise. Lo and behold, his heedless footing had inadvertently awoken a cartoonish toy police cruiser. Thinking on his feet, he swiftly snatched a pillow from his crib and slammed it down on the cop car, exhaling cautiously as he did his best to reign in the shrill-sounding siren. Mercifully, the lights and sounds eventually ceased on their own. 

Now that the fuzz had been dealt with, Connor’s attention was transferred to Ellie. He didn’t dare breathe until he heard her deviated septum echo out another snore. Resting his mouth against the pillow, he wheezed silently with relief. “I swear to Goddess, I’m going to rip out your batteries and disassemble you screw by screw,” he yammered under his breath, subduing his volume to ensure Ellie’s slumber went undisturbed. His transient outburst earned a few muted chuckles from Riri, whose anxiety was also settling after the toy car’s brief uproar. 

Gawking at the floor with unblinking eyes, Connor wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He stepped lightly around the various stuffies and toys scattered throughout the nursery, an inquisitive expression forming on his face as he spotted the Palace’s vacuum standing in the middle of the room. Next to the free-standing cleaning device was a slew of vacuum markings covering about a quarter of the nursery’s carpet. Whoever had picked up after he passed out had done a crappy job, though he had a pretty good guess which of the girls was responsible.

Rolling his eyes at what was likely Stacy’s shoddy handiwork, Connor pushed forward at the speed of molasses until he reached Riri’s crib safely. In total, the entire excursion had only lasted a couple of minutes. But to Connor, who was absentmindedly dancing around Little Space, it felt as though he had survived a fraught and dangerous journey. Weight ascended from his shoulders as he sat down on the edge of the crib, the bars of which had been raised by Riri in preparation for his arrival. He was safe, at least so long as Stacy didn’t spring a surprise inspection on them in the middle of the night.

“Hi,” whispered Riri, poking a hand out from her soft, pink blanket cocoon and waving to Connor once again. She inched forward, scooching herself toward her feminized caregiver while making sure he still had plenty of space. With how vicious Stacy and, at times, Ellie had been, she wanted to ensure she was as delicate with his aftercare as humanly possible. She may have only been a Little but she had picked up a thing or two from her Daddy, Martin.

Waving back meekly, Connor’s eyes darted around the room awkwardly. He expelled an extended yawn, the late hour dangling over his head. “So…*YAWN*...wanna tell me why you beckoned me?” he said, bypassing pleasantries and getting straight to the point due to his rapidly escalating drowsiness.

Staring blankly at Connor, Riri had so many thoughts and questions circling her head that she wasn’t sure where to start. Having expected Connor to sleep until morning, she found herself somewhat unprepared. However, taking into consideration the copious amount of exhaustion encircling Connor’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t debate this in her head forever. Expelling the nervous air from her lungs, she peered deep into Connor’s eyes and asked simply, “How are you feeling?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca WH17N3Y & Three Anonymous Investors

[starseedfxofficial]

Trump's Return: The Ultimate Market Twist—Secret Tactics for Profiting Now How Trump Pulled Off the Ultimate Comeback and Shocked Markets—Again Hold onto your T-notes, folks! Just when you thought it was safe to tune out the drama, the political gods decided to throw us yet another plot twist straight out of a telenovela. U.S. markets had quite the rollercoaster day after Donald Trump swaggered back into the White House, flashing his victory grin like he’d just won a poker game against a room full of amateurs—with his infamous hand of questionable policy aces. Stocks surged, bonds tanked, and the Dollar danced like it was 2016 all over again. But there's more than meets the eye here—and I'm not just talking about the glow of Trump's suntan lotion. Beneath the surface of the dramatic rallies in stocks and the meltdown in bonds, there are hidden market dynamics, unheard-of insights, and even a couple of juicy "ninja tactics" that might just help you profit in this fresh geopolitical circus. "The 'Trump Bump' Is Back—But Wait, There’s a Twist" First things first: let's dig into the basics. SPX surged by 2.53%, clocking in at a dizzying 5,929. Meanwhile, the NDX jumped 2.74%, and the Dow Jones decided it was high time for a proper rally, leaping 3.57% to 43,730. But the real star of the show was the Russell 2000—RUT added a whole 5.84%, like that one over-enthusiastic uncle at a wedding who thinks he can still do the splits. Now, it’s tempting to think all of this is just another stock market pump that’ll fizzle as quickly as it started. But here’s where the ninja insight kicks in: Trump’s victory proposals are like a double-edged sword—sure, tax cuts are a love letter to the stock market, but inflationary pressures from tariffs and heightened spending can cause bonds to lose their cool. If you’re an FX trader, here's your edge: while the T-note plummeted like a lead balloon, boosting the Dollar is where the true magic lies—Trump's policies historically favor a stronger buck. That’s right, the Dollar’s rally is less about "belief" in the greenback and more about sheer momentum and scarcity. Here’s a tip: if you’re riding the USD wave, don’t just surf—consider incorporating futures or options to hedge your bets. After all, a Trump-era policy twist might send the wave crashing unexpectedly. "Smooth Transition? Biden's Friendly Handshake—or Power Play?" Amidst all the financial drama, U.S. President Joe Biden spoke with Trump and graciously committed to a smooth transition. He even extended a warm, perhaps begrudging invitation for Trump to meet at the White House. And guess what—Vice President Harris also called to concede the election and delivered a concession speech that’s probably trending somewhere below cat videos on YouTube right now. But don’t be fooled by these niceties—politics is still a gladiator’s arena. In Forex circles, these little gestures are often where the true hidden dynamics lie. A smooth transition gives us stability—and stability is the last thing that triggers volatility spikes. If you’re looking for a big, juicy market move, it’s the rough edges, the moments when the "smooth" transition doesn’t go as planned, that really make a difference. Don’t sleep on this—set alerts for any hint of political tension and watch how the Dollar behaves. "Secretary of Treasury? How About Secretary of Hedge Funds?" Now, if you thought Trump’s Cabinet was about to be filled with political rookies, think again. The Financial Times reports that Scott Bessent—billionaire hedge fund manager and now a top Trump fundraiser—is eyeing up the Treasury Secretary gig. Not to be cynical, but what’s better for Wall Street than a Treasury Secretary who comes straight out of its own backyard? If you’re not seeing the hidden opportunities here, let me highlight them for you. The financial markets love someone at Treasury who speaks their language—it usually translates into less regulation, more fiscal experimentation, and higher market liquidity. For Forex traders, this means that should Bessent get the nod, we could see an explosion of opportunities to exploit Dollar volatility. The seasoned pros are already prepping their USD trade setups. "Republicans Take the House: Let the Gridlock Games Begin" Meanwhile, Decision Desk's U.S. House tracker pegs the odds of Republicans winning the House at 94.7%. If this holds true, we get a "Trump + Republican Congress" scenario, with a projected result of 223 versus 212 (for reference, you need 218 to win control). Now, most analysts will tell you that a gridlocked government is a recipe for nothing getting done—but that’s just half the story. Gridlock might bore the political junkies, but for traders, it's like jazz—it's the notes they don’t play that make the magic. No new taxes? Markets rally. No new regulations? Bonds drop. The House in Republican hands means the focus will shift to executive orders and market-friendly policy, and that’s where traders need to pay attention. Think about putting in some long Dollar positions when signs of deadlock start to get priced in. "The Hidden Formula Only the Pros Use to Ride Election Waves" There’s a secret formula seasoned traders employ during politically fueled market moves, and it’s not what you think. Instead of the usual wait-and-react, the pros use what's called event-driven trading. Here’s a ninja tip: before these big political announcements, look for correlated assets that react quickly—like the S&P, gold, and the EUR/USD. But here’s the trick: instead of going in on one instrument, the key is diversification across correlated but differentiated assets. In this case, a mix of Dollar Index positions and bond futures could give you the best of both worlds—profiting off safe-haven inflows to the Dollar, while potentially shorting T-bonds as investors flee rising interest rate fears. It's risky, but for those ready to dance in the rain, the rewards can be substantial. "Expert Commentary and Ninja Insights You Can't Miss" To make sense of all this madness, I reached out to two Forex experts: - Michael Bolton, an independent Forex strategist who’s well-known for trading geopolitical headlines (yes, and no, he’s not THAT Michael Bolton), says, "We could see sustained strength in the Dollar as markets digest both the political shift and inflationary concerns. This is a scenario that historically supports safe-haven flows, and Trump’s tariffs won’t help here—brace for more upside surprises in USD." - Jenna Lavoie, the Chief FX Analyst at AlphaEdge, added: "Scott Bessent as Treasury Secretary might mean a friendlier fiscal policy that’s beneficial for equity markets, but traders should stay nimble. The potential for a fragmented Congress means executive orders and market surprises—which will keep both the Dollar and Gold on their toes." "How to Strategize for a Trump Victory: A Behind-the-Scenes Look" If you’re looking to get an edge during this latest Trump era, consider a simple yet effective 3-step approach: - Identify Your Risk Appetite: Trump’s policies are as consistent as a coin flip. Make sure your positions are sized appropriately. In times of uncertainty, less is sometimes more. - Hedge Strategically: Betting on a stronger Dollar? Counter it by using gold as a hedge in case things don’t go as planned. Political volatility often pushes safe-haven assets up, even when the Dollar strengthens. - Leverage the Noise: In times like this, there’s plenty of noise. Use it to your advantage by keeping tight stops and taking profits often. This market isn’t about "set it and forget it"—it’s about short bursts of strategic action. "Unlocking Secrets the Pros Won’t Tell You" Ready to take it to the next level? The true secret to thriving in a politically charged environment is understanding that volatility is your friend. You’ll hear a lot of experts talking about "risk-off" when election surprises hit, but let me be honest—real traders make their money when there’s tension, when there’s action, when there’s fear in the air. Be patient, set your entry points wisely, and when the market overreacts—which it will—get in there and scoop up those opportunities. Just don’t forget to smile—this is what you live for! Final Thoughts The return of Trump has reignited everything from the Dollar to dinner conversations—and there’s more to come, no doubt. Traders who can see beyond the rhetoric, grasp the hidden opportunities in bonds, the Dollar, and political dynamics, are the ones who will thrive in this environment. And hey, if it all seems a bit overwhelming, remember: the best strategies are often the simplest—trade what’s in front of you, keep your risk tight, and always, always, look for the ninja move nobody else is watching. Expand Your Trading Arsenal with StarseedFX Services: - Latest Economic Indicators and Forex News: Stay informed on market movements and groundbreaking concepts with exclusive, real-time updates at StarseedFX Forex News. - Forex Education: Expand your knowledge with in-depth resources, advanced methodologies, and little-known strategies at StarseedFX Forex Education. - Community Membership: Join the StarseedFX community for expert analysis, daily alerts, live trading insights, insider tips, and elite tactics by visiting StarseedFX Community. - Free Trading Plan: Set goals, manage risks, and track progress with our detailed trading plan. Discover rare strategic advantages at StarseedFX Free Trading Plan. - Free Trading Journal: Enhance performance and refine strategies with real metrics using advanced methods for progress tracking at StarseedFX Free Trading Journal. - Smart Trading Tool: Optimize your trading with automated lot size calculations, insights, and order management at StarseedFX Smart Trading Tool.   Read the full article

[skycospack]

How Do Trigger Sprays Work In Cosmetic Products?

In this modern world, lakhs of people are using cosmetic products for making their look even better. Doing make-up is as important as the way of using beauty products. So they prefer handling only the user-friendly boxes. All those boxes consist the beauty creams and liquids. So the flow of stuff that comes from inside should be as smooth as possible. So the manufacturing process of those beauty product’s boxes is highly demanded in the market places.

It makes sense for all folks especially the celebrity people and all other girls. There are lots of pumps are in the industry which you are going to read about their uses in this article. Twist lotion pump is the most famous one because of its ease and different use. The spring that uses in this pump is specially made for this.

Where are all the spring pumps used?

Are you the one who is thinking that only in the beauty kits, all these spring pumps are being used? No, the spring pumps are using in household products, gardening products, Glass bottles, kitchen jars, saloon kits, and so on. In the twist lotion, you need to twist the top when you need to press it to let the stuff to the outcome. Based on the designs, it may vary.

• Aluminum bottles,

• Plastic bottles,

• Plastic jars,

• Spray pump,

• Glass pumps and so on.

Some of the types of metal that come in the sprayer bottles are mentioned below. Long nozzle liquid pump is the special one that has a different design on the top. Usually, it is being used for semi-liquid content. The top handler is quite longer and slimmer than others.

How Spring’s Pressure Let The Stuffs To Come Out?

The user needs to press down at the actuator place of the bottle, and then the piston will move to compress the spring part. Then pressurized air moves towards the ball in the spring part that allows the contents to come out with the air. This is how it works. Different types of pumps are mentioned below.

• High dosage lotion pump,

• Airless bottle,

• Pet perfume bottle,

• Dispenser liquid pumps,

• Mist sprayer pump and so on.

Roll On The Bottles:

This kind of roll bottle is differently made for the perfume or anything like directly apply content bottles. So plastic roll on bottles is founded in the commercial areas. For manufacturing the pain balms boxes and glitters bottles and so on, it’s been creating. You can get the best beauty product pumps from this shop for better use.

[corrodedhawkins]

Souvenirs: Perv!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Based off of this idea from @daughterofautumn

Content warnings: Graphic smut (minors DNI) language, snooping, nudes, male masturbation, implied public sex (his van).

“Eddie? What the hell happened?”, you ask, opening the front door for him. You had expected him to pick you up an hour ago, but he had never showed.

He’s absolutely soaked, dripping onto the floor as his sneakers squeak beneath him.

“My van broke down”, he huffs as you shut the door. “Walked all the way here in a fuckin’ downpour.”

You drag him down the hallway, stopping in front of the bathroom door. “I’m going to grab you towels and start the shower, the clothes you forgot last time you slept over are in my dresser.”

Eddie leaves you in the bathroom and continues down the hallway to your room to rifle through your dresser. He throws the top drawer open, searching for his sweatpants and Iron Maiden t-shirt.

He finds his clothes folded neatly towards the top, grabbing them and tucking them under his arm. As he’s reaching for the nob to close the drawer, a stack of Polaroids catch his eye.

The first in the pile is innocent enough, you’re smiling at the camera in a low cut top. The next features a close up of your cleavage, pushed up by your arms holding the camera out to take the photo.

He continues to look through the pictures, treated to the sight of you in a matching black lace lingerie set, slowly being removed with each photo.

“What the fuck?”, he breathes, shuffling through the pile of photographs.

By the last few photos, you’re completely nude, thighs spread to show off your glistening cunt to the camera.

Did you mean for him to see them, or did you forget they were there when you told him to go into your dresser? His head is still spinning when he hears you walking down the hall towards him.

“Did you find them?”, you call.

Eddie practically jumps, scrambling to put the Polaroids back into a neat stack how he found them. He plucks two from the pile and quickly tucks them into his back pocket before shutting the drawer.

“Did you find them?”, you ask again, hip resting on the door jamb to your room.

“Y-yeah”. Eddie spins around, holding the pile of clothes out for you to see. “Found them. I’m going to go”, he gestures past you towards the hallway, “shower”.

You step aside to let him pass, eyeing him when he clears his throat after having accidentally brushed his shoulder against you.

Eddie practically runs to the bathroom, hand reaching for the Polaroids in his back pocket before he even gets the door shut and locked.

He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down along with his boxers, fist flying over his cock, desperate to cum.

It only takes him a handful of pumps before he’s spurting all over himself, biting his fist to muffle the whimpers he can’t hold back.

He sets the Polaroids on the counter, careful to place them in the pocket of his sweatpants for safe keeping.

Once the rain stops, you drive him back to his van, which thankfully only needs a jump to get running again.

He hugs you goodbye, angling his hips away from you when he feels the heavy press of your breasts against his chest.

The Polaroids burn a hole in his pocket the entire ride home, hands drumming on the steering wheel impatiently.

Eddie nearly sprints into the trailer and down the hallway to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Ripping the Polaroids from his pocket, he pushes down his sweatpants and boxers, kicking them into the corner.

Sitting down on his bed, he reaches over to his bedside table and pumps lotion onto his hand. He wraps it around his erection and starts to pump, spreading the lotion to slick himself up.

He holds the pictures close to get a better look as he fists his cock, thumb tracing the head as he twists his wrist on the upstroke.

In the first picture, your tits are out, nipples hard like you’d been playing with them. One hand is buried under the waistband of your panties, no doubt toying with your clit.

He imagines pushing them together, burying his cock in the valley between your breasts as he paints your chest with his cum.

In the second photo, Eddie’s personal favorite, your black panties are pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Your clit is red and swollen, lips puffy and shiny with your slick.

He thinks about running the head if his cock up and down your slit, bumping into your clit as you grind down onto him, seeking friction.

The hand on his cock speeds up, moaning when he thinks about all of the sounds he could coax out of you. Maybe you were a screamer, wailing as he pounds into you.

Or better yet, maybe you were shy, quiet sighs and barely-there moans slipping out of you. He would spend every ounce of energy trying to make you lose control and cry out. You'd sound so pretty, split open on his cock, head thrown back as you whimper and beg for him to make you cum.

He doesn’t realize how close he is until the image of you on your knees in front of him, mouth open to take his cum pops into his mind, orgasm blindsiding him.

His cum spurts out onto the photos, quickly cleaned off once he catches his breath so that he doesn’t ruin them.

The clean Polaroids end up sandwiched between the pages of his worn copy of The Hobbit on his bedside table for safe keeping.

The next day at school, an envelope flutters out of Eddie’s locker when he opens it to retrieve his lunchbox, ready to head home for the day.

Inside the envelope he finds the rest of the Polaroids with a note written in your signature girly cursive. It reads: “I know you stole a few of these, you pervert. I took some new ones for you. Enjoy!”

Eddie’s eyes widen, looking around quickly to make sure he’s alone before shuffling through the stack of pictures, finding a handful of new ones.

In these, you’re wearing a pair of red lace panties shoved to the side, one of Eddie’s old Hellfire Club t-shirts hanging off of your shoulder seductively as you bury two fingers into your cunt.

Eddie sputters and slams his locker shut, taking off down the hall to the parking lot.

You don’t make it to your car before he’s dragging you into the back of his van to show you just how much he enjoyed his surprise.

Tag list:

@ghastlyentity @sweetpeapod @e0509 @stardustmunson @simpingoverfictionalppl @quinnswife86 @munsonquinns @thorfemmes @khaleesibubblegum @manddoublee @mcplestreet  @lizziesfirstwife @kellynickelsgirl00  @wroteclassicaly  @msmimiandrew @emokid-ellie @stardust-galaxies @escapingthereality @bayouteche @marsbar127xx  @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @xcarabear @just-absolutely-feral @hellfirebabes @ely-seum @fireflyisland @anaisweird @suhsouza @sagihairius@prozacandnicotine @latenitewolves @munsons-bun @paprikaquinn@protecteddiemunson4vr @slightlyvicked @thestrangestthings @marsmunson86

[jadequeen88]

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki​ for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks. 

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you. 

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

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“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

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Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸⫸

You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla. 

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous. 

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

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Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob. 

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

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Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

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Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.  

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek. 

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped. 

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.  

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend. 

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly... 

[plush-rabbit]

Peaches and Cream

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Lactation Kink

Word Count: 5.1K

A/N: I,,, was not going to post this here so who knows maybe when im rested I’ll probs delete this,,, i wanted to make him cry a bit and be needier than the first one i posted

Tomura Shigaraki stands under the showerhead, warm water running down his body and making his hair stick to his skin. His body is sore, joints that ache and scream the longer that he stands with his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes closed and nostrils flaring as he tries to keep a control over his breathing. His hand pumps at his shaft, quick movements that drag as the water acts as lubricant, thin, watery strands spill from his slit and fall onto the tile where it disappears. He shudders, a shiver coursing through his body as he reaches his high, a low whimper muffled by his lips as he can feel the orgasm inch closer with every movement. He whines and bucks his hips, his grip tightening around him as he humps himself against his palm, hissing with every thrust, releasing his bottom lip to let his tongue loll out, pupils dilated as he can feel the heat course through him, burning and making him grunt your name in passionate whispers, slurring together and water slides down the bridge of his nose, dripping off the tip and onto the back of his hand and he whines, chest heaving as he moan your name, muscles clenching together and pulling taut as his right leg jerks with spasms. Thick, white discharge spills from him, spurting out as he gives himself a few more pumps, shaky and weak, watching with hazy vision as it dribbles out and splats onto the tile, mixing in with the soap suds that are fluffy white and iridescent bubbles. 

He rolls his tongue over where his teeth have indented into his skin, watching as his length bobs, jerking with every touch as he wipes himself clean. The deep red has faded into a soft pink, glistening with water and with a hesitant hand he wraps his hand over himself, whining and bucking his hips at the sensitivity. He lets out a shaky breath, toes curling as he can feel another orgasm close in on him.

A sharp knock on the door makes him hiss, wrapping his hand tighter around him. “Tomura?” You call, voice muffled by the door. “Are you okay in there, sweetheart?” His hips buck at the affectionate name. “I heard my name.”

“I need-” his voice cracks- “my towel.” He gives himself another pump, the warm water slowly turning cold and chilling down his back. “Please.”

“Of course,” you reply and he can hear your steps fade as you rummage around the room for a towel. 

He lets out a shaky breath of relief and wipes his hands away, taking a step away from the drain where the suds had pooled around and slowly disappeared. The cool water lowers his heat, makes him flaccid. The fear that he had done something makes him jittery, shaky as he turns off the water and stands in the cold for a few seconds, water dripping from the showerhead and his body in untimely rhythms that make him all too focused on one thing, missing the warning that you give and when the door opens, his name on your tongue, he yelps.

“Shit-” he shakes his head and pulls the shower curtain aside- “no, no, sorry,” he waves off your apologies and holds his hand out. “I wasn’t paying attention.” The towel is dry and fluffy, a pure white that dries his skin. He sneaks a glance at you and turns his head. “Thank you.”

You take a step closer to him and take the towel from his hands, holding it in yours as you take his face, cradling it in towel covered hands and patting him dry. You give him a soft smile as you curve your hand and dry behind his ears. 

“What made you so distracted?” You ask, wiping gently under an eye, a smile titling your lips as you see his face flush. “Lower yourself,” you mumble and he does as he’s told, letting out a breath through his nose as you dry his hair. “So?” You press further tapping him on the shoulder when you're done, moving down to his arms.

“Just,” he trails and licks at his lips, “thoughts.” He raises an arm and blinks as you take a hand and gently pat it dry, rolling the towel between each digits, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing soft kisses against his fingertips. “You don’t have to dry me,” he mumbles, lightly tapping at the tile, water splashing softly. 

“You’re always too rough with yourself Tomura.” You drop his arm and grab at the other, the towel brushing lightly against the scarred skin, repeating the process and gently brushing your lips over the skin. “Let me take care of you, him?” Your eyes are closed, lips fluttering over his hand and he takes a deep breath, warmth pooling in his cheeks and he gives you a silent nod. “You smell so sweet,” you comment, the towel brushing over his chest, whining as you brush over his nipples. You quietly shush him, pecking above his pectorals in a calming touch, pressing the towel close to his chest, watching as his nipples bud under the soft touch. “So sensitive, too,” you croon into his neck. “Is that why you called my name?” The towel slips and you catch it around his hips, the fluffy, soft fabric tickling at the base of cock. “Did you want Mommy to take care of you?” Your breath is warm and against him, and he takes an inch of a step towards you, the towel lowering until it reaches at his thighs, softly patting at the skin. He lets out a soft whine and mumbles his words, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I can’t hear you, baby,” you whisper, the towel around his prick, the soft cotton warming around his cock.

“Take care of me,” he mewls, bucking his hips into the towel, letting out a harsh breath as he drags himself against the towel. “Please,” he nuzzles further into you, “Mommy.”

You hum in content, running your hands down his hair, watching as the water slides down the curve of his back. “There’s my good boy,” you praise, turning your head to press a kiss against the side of his head. “Go to bed-” you pull away and grab at his hands to hold the towel in front of him- “let get something first, okay?” He nods and you watch as he wraps the towel around his waist, a small tent growing underneath. He slips out of the bathroom, a trail of water droplets marking his trail. 

He lays on the bed, head under the towel, hands shaky as they brush away the wet strand from his face, red eyes that are blown out as they stare at the ceiling, his body covered in goosebumps as he waits for your arrival. He covers his eyes with the heels of his hands, breathing heavily as his vision is taken away, toes curling as the remnants of pleasure still make his body tongle, only enhanced by your soft touch and words. His semi pulses with want, blood warming it to an uncomfortable degree, and his fingers flex, an urge to grab at himself and play with himself as he waits. His apple bobs, pink muscle slipping past his lips, heels digging into the mattress while his heart pounds away in his chest, waiting for the urge to pass, wishing that you would come here quick to take care of his itch.

“Mommy,” he whines, hands flat against him as his fingers knit into his hair. “Mommy, please,” he croaks.

“You’re so impatient, sweetheart.” Your voice fills the room and his body twitches in response. He can hear the sweet melody that is your laugh fill the room. “This is why you wait for me to help take care of you.” He sucks in a harsh breath when he feels your hand on his knee, nails poised above before spreading out, hand laying flat before twisting slightly above in a tender touch. “You always get too needy.” He hears a click and jerks. “Just cream dear,” you reply, letting your hand trail up his thigh and he lets out a raspy grasp as the tips of your finger barely graze him, a teasing touch that makes him cry and jerk a leg. “You're allowed to look, baby,” you comment, wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pulling his hands away from his eyes.

He looks up at you, your body adorned with a soft pink nightgown, dark magenta lace around the top of the cups that hold your breasts that threaten to spill over with the slightest touch, accented with dark magenta lace at the bottom of the gown that barely covers your clothed core. You crawl above him, straddling his hips, watching him through half-lidded eyes as you place lotion on your palms. He hisses when the cool cream touches his skin, your hands warm as they glide over him, and slowly the delicate aroma of peach wafts through the air, sweet and soft, mixed with jasmine and apples. The cream is light on his skin, seeping into his pores with every soft brush, and you lean back, his bare cock against the silk fabric of your gown. He sighs and lets his eyes flutter close, breathing growing more ragged as your hands curve around his body, cupping at his bare breasts and letting the pads of your fingers roll his pebbled nipples underneath.

A soft blush creeps up his chest, light pink that darkens the farther it travels upwards, resting along his cheeks in a candy shade of red. He opens his eyes, pupils dilated with a rim of red and he watches you with tears in his eyes, tentatively rolling his hips against you, pre-ejaculate leaking and staining the back of your gown with a small dark spot. He stops at the disapproving look, whimpering as an apology and mouths a plea. His tongue peeks out, licking at his lips and before it has a chance to return to the wet cavern, it’s caught between an index and thumb. He whines and opens his mouth, tilting his head backward and letting his eyes roll. 

“I told you to stop licking at your lips.” You kiss the tip of his tongue and smile when it flicks against you, the muscle straining to break free. “Keep your tongue out,” you command as you reach over, breasts softly bouncing in the process and he has no issue following the command, tongue raised as it tries to lick at the soft, teasing breasts that move in front of his face. When you catch his eye, he sees a tube of chapstick in hand- passion fruit.

Eyes watch as you roll the tube onto your lips, rolling your lips until satisfied and you cup his face, lowering yourself against him. You peck at his tongue and slowly, with yours, you pull it inside of your mouth, capturing him in a kiss where you taste sweet. His hands shake as they rise, coming to hold your waist where you give an appreciatve moan, his cock jerking at the sound.

His tongue moves against yours, the muscles swirling around each other as you push yourself closer against him, lifting your hips, the fabric tickling at his erection, staining you in a darkening pink. The ends of it a soft brush against his cock, the lace dancing above his slit that leaks. 

Your lips leave his, dancing downward, covering him with frantic kisses until you reach at his neck, tongue flat as you lick around the curve of his neck, pressing against his rapid pulse. Teeth bared in a sharp grin, canines pressed against the beat as you feel him quicken in pace, his body in short bursts of shivers, when you suckle on his neck, marking his skin in bright splotches of red. You move your head to the other side, lips brushing and pausing above his apple, feeling how it bobs underneath you, an audible gulp taken when you press your lips against it, a simpering grin on your lips as he calls your name. You mark the other side of his neck all the same, pride swelling in your chest as he’s covered in red spot, shining in spittle underneath you, red in the face and jerking his hips. 

“So cute,” you mumble, peeking his temple. “Remember the person who’s making you feel this good, eh?” You whisper against his ear, lips pulled over your teeth in a predatory grin.

He nods his head, the first syllable of your title passing through his lips until cut off by a gasp when you rub your clothed cunt against him. You push against him, with careful and precise movements, feeling the hard feel of his cock against the thin fabric of your panties, whining under you, back curving into a soft arch, teeth gritted as he tries to hold his composure, slowly loosening into a smile until he covers his face with his hands. Slick puddles out of you, movements wet and slippery as you begin to ache with a want for him. 

Underneath you, he’s hidden behind his hands, whimpering at the touch, crying when you pull his hands away, taking away the false privacy he had. He turns flustered under your smile, eyes darting away when you give him a cute smile. His length bobs, aches and strains against nothing and he wants to be buried deep inside of you, to push himself against you and fuck at Mommy’s tight hole. 

“Oh Mommy,” he gasps, hips jutting into the air. His eyes water and pinch shut, mouth opening into a soft ‘o’ as a breathy moan sings out. “Right there. Oh, it feels so good.” Your clothed cunt rubs over him, slick slipping past your entrance and slipping past your underwear and sticking to the inside of your thighs. His hands cover yours, fingers twitching above yours as you fingers pinch at his nipples. His groan is light, rippling past his lips as he throws his head back, his spine curving into a soft arch.

“Oh, Tomura,” you murmur, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, suckling on the ear lobe, “you’re so cute- Mommy’s good, little boy,” you coo, pressing hot kisses against the shell of his ear, dragging them along until the reach the corner of his lips, stopping against him for a second, and your move up, brushing your nose along his where he looks at you with a betrayed expression, eyes pinched and a soft whine on his throat. “You’re so needy today.” You glance down at his prick that blushes with a deep shade of red, glistening with arousal. “What did you do in the shower?” You peck at the scar above his eye. “Hm? Did you touch yourself?” He nods and you bite lightly at his cheek. He yelps, legs bending and he presses further against you, his cockhead threatening to peek past your underwear and enter you. “Use your words,” you sing softly, kissing where the bite has softened into a dull pain. 

“Yes,” he rasps out, “I- I touched myself.” He groans when your hand trails down and pinches at a nipple. “I- I was so needy and-” his voice cracks and slowly lowers into a whisper, breathy and high- “I didn’t want to bother you.” You roll over him, hips swirling and dragging on the underside of his cock until they reach his tip, the slick dripping onto his stock and he groans, lifting himself up, breathing ragged and deep. “Mommy,” he calls in a whiny tone, “please. I promise to be good. ‘S a mistake,” he gasps out, hands lowering to grip at the bedsheets. He lets out a moan when you raise yourself above him, his tongue lolling out and eyes wide.

“Tomura,” you lightly reprimand, pinching at his nipple until it blooms into a bright red, rubbing your thumb over when he lets out a keen whine. “You know you aren’t allowed to touch yourself-” you roll back to sit on his thighs, gown flowing against you, too short to fully cover your thighs- “you get too needy, baby.” Your hand leaves his chest, grazing down his stomach that contracts under your touch, the muscles tight as you travel past his belly, and reach the base of his cock, the tip of your fingers running above him, slowly encasing the tip of his cock into your palm. “You can never just stop at one.”

“I won’t do it again,” he says, eyes glazed over as your thumb runs over his slit. “Promise. Just- touch me, please,” he begs, breaths stuttering as you slowly begin to pump him.

“We both know that’s a lie,” you mumble, tugging on his cock, watching with interest as it leaks. “You know you need a punishment.”

“No, no,” he repeats, a frown on his lips, tears already sprung onto his eyes and catching on his eyelashes. “I’m a good boy,” he whines. “I promise! Please Mommy- I’ll come to you next time- Mommy,” he gasps, hands coming up to cup at his chest. “I’ll be good. I’m a good boy,” he snivels, mouth stretching into a frown as he whines underneath you. 

“Baby,” you sigh, a hand coming up to comb at his damp hair, “don’t cry.” You peek at his cheek and a tear meets your lips in a salty kiss. “I know you’re a good boy,” you comfort, brushing your nose against his cheek. “Such a good boy.” You pull away and he watches you with wide eyes. “But-” his eyes knit and he shakes his head, mumbling “no’s” under his breath and you groan, dipping your head. “You’re a good boy, right?” He nods his head. “You’re Mommy’s perfect, baby boy.” He nods again, a shudder of a breath escaping his lips. “How about we play a game?” He opens his eyes, confusion written over his face. “I suck on your pretty, pink dick-” he gulps and you hold a coy grin on your face- “and if you can hold on, until I’m satisfied, then you don’t get a punishment.” 

His eyes dart and dip into your chest. “Wha- What’s the prize?” He stutters, eyes focused on how your chest rises and dips with every breath. 

You raise a brow. “The lack of punishment should be incentive enough but I’ll let you have something else.” You tilt your head and grab at his hand, holding it close to your chest, smiling when his hand curves around the breast, your hardened nipples poking between the thin fabric and into his palm. “What do you have in mind?”

He squeezes your breast, thin, calloused fingers welcoming the soft fabric of your gown, fingers pressing into the supple fat of your chest. “Can I have milk?” He asks, eyes already half-lidded, tongue licking at his lips, fingers pulling down to roll the bud over, watching it darken the fabric and moisten his fingertips. 

Your grin widens and you pull away, his hand in a soft curve around the ghost of your breast. “The prince is hungry, huh?” You tease, chuckling when he nods, meeting your eyes for a brief second, a heavy blush in his face, dark around his cheeks and spreading into a soft pink against the tip of his nose. “If you can last until I pull away, then you’re free to suck on Mommy's titties.” His breath is shaky, hot as it leaves his lips and he gives you a nod, agreeing to the game.

Your hands leave phantom traces against his naked skin as they trail down, your head dipping down, lips that ghost past his collarbone, your pink muscle licking at an old scar that pales against his skin. You leave kisses against the top of his breast and trail it between his valley, nose brushing lightly above his abdomen, smiling against his tummy, giving him feverish kisses along his soft trail, dark in color that fades into a silvery white. Hands that rail down hisbside, leaving his tensing his muscle under the feathery touchy, fingers that soften as they grab at his hips. You blow cool air against his base, tongue peeking past between your lips, to give him a soft kitten-like lick.

He murmurs your name, soft between his lips and jerks his leg to get your attention. You hum in response, your tongue flat against his base, nose against the underside of his thickness. "Am I allowed to touch you?"

You smile and pull away from him, hands sliding to grab at his base, slipping and turning to pump him steadily, passing the foreplay, and gripping onto his shaft, his pre-ejaculate acting as lube as it slicks up and down, your palm dragging for a few pumps until it smooths over and glides across his skin, soft clicks with long pauses in between.

“No baby,” you murmur, “not right now.” he groans at the answer and his hands twist into the bedsheets. “You win the game, you can touch me all you like, sweetheart.” You lean over, pressing your lips against him, slow and feather light, a ghost of your touch on him, where he whines, arching his back into your chest, the whines growing louder as his bare chest rubs against the lace. “So pretty,” you whisper against his lips. “Such cute, little noises leaving your lips.” You pull away and your hand stops, thumb sliding over his slit, his arousal sticking and stretching onto your skin. “Remember to hold it until I say so,” you remind him, tone sweet and you inch backwards and dip your head. 

He twitches as your breath hits him, soft and warm, and he has a second of stillness where he waits for you to envelop him, waits patiently, leaking as he closes his eyes. It’s a shaky intake of air where he chokes on his spit as you swirl your tongue over his head, lips covering teeth as you lower, the gummy part of your cheeks soft around him as you lower yourself further, cheeks hollowing to wrap tight around him. He twitches in your mouth, jerking and pressing himself against the roof of your mouth, the sudden motion causing your lips to slip, teeth grazing on the underside of his cock, trailing at a vein. A croak leaves past his lips, soft and broken, with hands that twitch the fabric, nails pressing deep into the sheets, a faint scratching sound is lost to his moans as you push yourself further down him, your own moan vibrating against him. He cries your name, hips lightly pushing upwards, his cockhead hitting at the curve of your throat, his discharge bittersweet as it oozes down your throat in thin strands. 

“Mommy,” he calls out to you, his member pulsing in your mouth. “Mommy, please,” he whispers in a hoarse voice.”

You pull your mouth close to him and slide away, lips pressed against his opening. “Hasn’t even been that long-” you kiss at his tip- “don’t tell me you’re already close.” Your eyes glance towards him, his face flushed and you trail down his neck, following his shoulders, to his elbows, to his hand that strain, veins bold against his skin, cartilage sticking out against his skin, hands poised and dug deep into the thin fabric. You sigh softly at his hands, tilting your head with a loving smile on your lips. “You’re so cute,” you compliment. “An absolute delight to be around with,” you sigh, eyes meeting his for a second before you dip your head back onto his cock.

He’s thick. All the space in your mouth is erased by him, consuming and pulsing inside of you, pulsing with heat as you lower your head, nose against the base. He whines as you do so, panting as you choke around him, thick dribbles of spit that slide past the corner of your lips and curve around your shin, dripping onto him and latching onto his thighs. You struggle to breath, tears coming to your eyes as you take him whole, fisting your hand in order to distract you, whinging and feeling slick pool out as you keep yourself for one, two and on the third, you slide off of him, honey-thick strands connecting you to his cock, your lips swollen and tongue rolled out past your lips, as you look up at him with glossy eyes. His cock spurts, thick, white discharge pooling out past his lips and he calls your name in a pitiful moan, thrusting his hip against the air, hands that reach out to grab at you and with a roll of your eyes, a lazy smile on your face, you slide your underwear past your ankles and situate yourself on him, letting out a breathy groan as your walls accustom to his girth. 

All it takes is a simple swivel of your hips for him to spill his seed inside of you. Thick and filling as it paints you white and slips past him, squelching as you lean forward, hands on either side of his head and he’s quick to accept his gift. His hands reach squeeze at your breasts, pawing off the silk, a right hand pinching around the bud, watching as sweet milk spills past and he latches on, cheeks holling, tongue flicking the bud, rolling it with the tip of his tongue, urging the sweet milk to spill, moaning as it watches on his tongue and spills down his throat, filling his belly with warmth, cock twitching with joy inside fo you.

Your hand goes to play with his hair, parting the strands, sighing above him in breathy pants as his hand comes to rub at the neglected breast, palming the nipple under, and pulling away with a scooped hand when it catches your essence, brining it to his mouth, the leaking bud dripping onto his lips and side of his palm as he drinks from his hand, returning to your bud.

“Tomura,” you croon, moving your hips in a soft swirl, “that- oh, you’re so good. So pretty and good,” you slur together, tightening around him, walls flexin and urging him to spill again inside of you. “What a good boy.” You moan against him, his cockhead hitting at a songy part, rubbing alongside of it, bare and hard, your tongue lolling out, the hand on his hair in a tight grip as you ride him. “What a good boy. So sweet for letting Mommy ride his prick,” you pant. Your hand loosens and slides down the ruffled hair. “Do you like your prize?” He moans against you, nodding, eyes half-lidded and glazed over, focused on the breast brimming with milk as he palms the other, thin, white strands, spilling past and splashing onto his skin, burning as it trails down, his other hands coming to press down your back, inching you closer to him. “Drink baby,” you encourage, smiling down at him. He looks up at you with doe eyes, blinking innocently as he bats his eyelashes, tears shining in the corner of his eyes. “Just let Mommy ride your cock, hm?” You flash him a sweet smile and he mumbles around your nipple, kissing at it and pulling away, tongue out as it leaves a trail on your chest, until he reaches your other breast. 

Your walls are soft against him, pulsing around his own throbbing member and your hand finds its way to your clit, moving between the two bodies that stick with a thin layer of sweat, fingers pointed and softly circling over the twitching, sensitive bud. You sigh and let your eyes close, lips pouted as you press your chest against Tomura’s needy mouth, cooing and slurring words of praise together until they’re lost in soft murmurs, your hips lightly patting against him as you swirl above him in soft circles, close to reaching your high as your stomach pulls taut against, heat wet with slick as you call his name.

“”M a good boy,” he mutters against your chest, a drying trail of white on the corner of his lips, suckling on your ample breast, drinking at the honey-sweet milk. “Good boy for Mommy,” he mutters, pushing your breasts together watching as they leak, his tongue serpentining over your leaking nipples. 

“Such a good boy,” you reiterate, licking your lips. “Letting Mommy milk your cock while you milk Mommy? Fuck baby,” you moan, closing your eyes in a tight pinch, “good boy. So sweet and pretty. My pretty boy,” you whimper, scratching softly at his scalp. 

“Close,” he mewls, slapping his hips against yours, “‘M close,” he says, nuzzling his face further against you, mouth opening to catch at the soft bud in his mouth. “I love you,” he says, repeating it in a softer tone, your name muttered under his breath, stilling his hips as you pap against him, breathing harshly, cheeks hollow as he sucks your milk-filled breast in his mouth. 

It’s his declaration that makes your walls pulse and tighten, spongy walls that twitch and spasm around his cock, sweet, honey-like strands of arousal that seep and mix with his thick, white arousal, clicking in the room as you come to rest on him. His name sweet on your tongue as your fingers still circle over your pearl, whining and pulling on him tight, his moans vibrating against your chest, eyes closed as his mouth stops the harsh treatment, tongue poking at the pert bud, light strands of milk slipping past his tongue and down his throat. 

He pulls his mouth away, kissing at the swollen bud, watching as milk leaks and catches on his lips, his hips experimentally moving only to stop with a hiss at the sensitivity, heavy cream, slipping down and coating him in warmth and stickiness. 

“How do you feel?” You ask, raising yourself off of him and laying on your back next to him with a light groan. “Personally, i’m tired-” your hands cupping at your sore chest, wincing at the feeling- “and sore.”

“Good,” he nods, replacing your hand with his, pinching at a still sore bud, licking his lips when a pearl of white beads out. “Can I?” He gestures to your breasts, already rising above, fingers poised at your entrance, slipping inside the gooey entrance, digit massaging your inner walls. “I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, wrapping his mouth on your breast, wide and holling his cheeks as he lazily pumps his fingers.