#cw groping ?

[caninecrucifix]

<3

[cynicalrosebud]

Kinktober Day 20

Warnings: Sexual Themes, BDSM, Chastity, Dollification

Prompt: Chastity + Dollification

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

The rest of Kinktober

Notes: This actually has two versions, I couldn't pick!

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of dim lighting, shadows dancing across the room as you stood before the mirror. Every detail of your reflection was meticulously crafted under John’s watchful eye. His hands moved with precision, adjusting the delicate restraints around your wrists and ankles, the satin ribbons tight enough to remind you of their presence, yet gentle enough to avoid discomfort. You watched yourself in the mirror, perfectly dressed, each element selected by him. You were his creation—his doll to admire.

“You’re beautiful like this, love,” John’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the stillness, his words deliberate and soothing. His eyes locked onto yours in the reflection as he stood behind you, his presence both commanding and protective. "So still, so perfect."

Your lips parted, but no words escaped. The weight of the chastity device locked in place around your hips was a constant reminder of his control—his presence. The agreement between the two of you was unspoken, built on trust and complete surrender. Every inch of you belonged to him tonight, molded to his desires, but not yet touched, not fully explored.

John’s fingers slid up your arm, a slow and deliberate caress that sent ripples of anticipation down your spine. His touch was light, just enough to make your skin tingle, but never enough to satisfy. He took his time, tracing every curve, grazing over your form like an artist perfecting his masterpiece. “Such a good doll,” he whispered, lips grazing your ear, sending warmth cascading through you. “Made to follow orders, aren’t you?”

The only response you were permitted was a slight nod. Your breathing was shallow, the need inside you growing with every teasing pass of his hands. He was careful, never venturing to the places you so desperately wanted his touch. The chastity device pressed against you, a constant reminder that your release was not yours to take—it was his to grant.

He took a step back, his eyes dark with desire, admiring the work he’d put into you. His gaze swept over your restrained form, taking in every detail—the way your skin glistened under the soft light, the way the restraints accentuated the stillness he commanded. “Not a word, love,” he ordered, his voice firm, resonating with authority. “Dolls don’t speak.”

You stood, perfectly posed, your heart racing in your chest. Every nerve in your body was alive, vibrating under the weight of his gaze. John circled you slowly, like a predator taking in his prey, his eyes lingering on every inch of skin he had claimed for himself. The silence between you was heavy, but you dared not break it. No begging, no pleading—just waiting, silently, for his permission.

When he leaned in again, it wasn’t to release you from the tension but to draw it out further. His lips pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, a fleeting warmth that only heightened the chill of the anticipation clinging to your skin. “Soon,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck, the promise hanging between you like a tempting, unspoken reward. “But for now, you’re mine to enjoy, aren’t you?”

Another nod, small and obedient, as your body trembled under his scrutiny. Every second he made you wait, every touch that didn’t go quite far enough, built the tension higher. The chastity device locked around you seemed to grow heavier, a constant reminder of the denial he controlled. And yet, in the silence, in your perfect stillness, you could feel his approval—the way his eyes lingered, the pride in how well you obeyed.

“You’re everything I want right now,” John whispered, his fingers brushing along your collarbone, just shy of what you needed. He trailed his hand lower, ghosting over the fabric that concealed your skin, the promise of pleasure always just out of reach. “Such a beautiful doll. Always ready, always perfect.”

Your body yearned for more, but you stayed still. He had yet to give the command, and you knew better than to rush him. The weight of his control made every touch more potent, every whisper more electric. You didn’t need words. You were exactly what he wanted—a beautiful, perfect doll, waiting, always waiting, for him.

“Not much longer,” he promised, his voice a soothing balm over the raw ache of your need. His hands stilled on your waist, his thumb brushing over the satin ribbon, an almost unconscious act of affection. “You’ve done so well, love. So patient. Just a little more.”

John’s hands trailed lower, fingertips ghosting over your hips, but he never allowed himself to fully indulge. His self-restraint was palpable, a silent reminder of the game you both played. He leaned closer, his breath warm on the back of your neck, and whispered, “Tonight, you’re my doll. I can admire you, touch you, enjoy you. But only as much as I decide.”

Your body shivered in response, every nerve alight with anticipation. You could feel the weight of his hands lingering just above your thighs, the places where you craved him the most. The chastity belt pressed even more firmly against your skin, a constant reminder of the restraint you were under. The pleasure, like the moment itself, was suspended—held just out of reach, teasing you with the possibility of release but never quite delivering.

John chuckled softly, sensing your frustration, and pulled you closer against him, his hands possessive but still controlled. “Oh, love,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re so eager. But we both know this is part of the game, don’t we? You like being kept like this, don’t you?”

Another slight nod. The only answer you were allowed.

He continued to caress you, his hands exploring every inch of your restrained body, enjoying the way you trembled under his touch. But he always held back, always stopped just before the moment of release, leaving you aching for more.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with approval. “So patient. So obedient.”

His praise sent warmth flooding through you, your body alight with need, but still, you held on. The promise of pleasure hovered in the air, just out of reach, and yet you knew—knew that when he finally granted it, it would be worth every moment of waiting.

John kissed your neck softly, his lips lingering against your skin as his hands roamed over you, but the chastity device stayed locked in place, a barrier between you and the release you craved. And in that moment, you were exactly what he wanted: his perfect doll, obedient, still, waiting for his command.

“Soon,” he whispered again, his voice a soothing lullaby against the storm of your desire. “But not yet.”

And in the stillness of the room, with his hands and lips ghosting over your trembling form, you knew you could endure just a little longer—for him.

The soft glow of the candlelight flickered in the dim room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, the delicate fabric of your lace dress whispering against your skin. John Price, your commanding officer and lover, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an approving smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you.

“Ready for tonight, love?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. The atmosphere crackled with tension, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation. Price pushed himself off the frame and walked over, his heavy boots making soft thuds against the wooden floor.

He reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “You look absolutely enchanting, but you know the rules.”

You gulped, remembering the chastity device you wore. It was a reminder of your submission, a symbol of Price’s control over you. “I do,” you whispered, your heart racing.

“Good. I expect you to behave like the perfect little doll tonight.” His tone was playful yet commanding, and it sent a thrill through you.

With deliberate movements, he knelt before you, his hands resting on your thighs. “Do you remember how we talked about dollification? About embracing your inner doll?”

You nodded, recalling the way he had described the sensation of being his perfect little doll, molded and shaped to his desires. It made you feel vulnerable and exhilarated at the same time.

“Tonight, I want you to embody that.” His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers tracing the fabric of your dress, exploring the soft curves of your body. “You’ll be my little plaything, and you’ll do everything I say.”

“Of course, Daddy,” you replied, a playful smile creeping onto your lips. The title felt natural between you, one that signified trust and intimacy.

Price smirked, his gaze darkening with desire. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, and guided you to the center of the room. He retrieved a small box from the bedside table and opened it to reveal a collection of delicate accessories. Each item was meticulously crafted, designed to enhance your doll-like appearance: pastel ribbons, lace gloves, and a stunning pair of porcelain-like heels.

“Put these on,” he instructed, handing you the items one by one. As you slipped into the shoes, the heels elevating your stature, you felt a rush of confidence. Price watched closely, his eyes gleaming with approval as you transformed into his perfect doll.

Once you were adorned, he stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “You look exquisite. But I think we need to add one final touch.” He pulled out a delicate choker, adorned with a small key charm that symbolized your chastity.

As he fastened it around your neck, the weight of it settled heavily on you. “This is your reminder,” he said, his voice dipping into a low growl. “You’re mine, and only I hold the key to your pleasure.”

A delicious heat bloomed in your core as you met his gaze, feeling the familiar rush of submission wash over you. You felt both restrained and liberated by the choker, the chastity device a constant reminder of your shared dynamic.

“Now, let’s see how well you can follow instructions,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. “I want you to stand perfectly still and remain silent until I say otherwise.”

You obeyed, standing tall and proud, your heart racing as you embraced the role he had created for you. Price circled around you, his presence both comforting and dominating.

“Good girl,” he murmured, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “You look so lovely like this. Just a doll for me to play with.”

As he began to tease and touch you, every brush of his fingers felt electric against your skin, igniting a fire within you. But the chastity device remained in place, denying you the pleasure you craved.

“Tonight is about control, darling,” he reminded you, his voice a seductive purr. “You’ll learn to enjoy the anticipation. Your pleasure will come, but only when I decide.”

The sensation of being his perfect doll, crafted for his desires, enveloped you like a warm blanket. You surrendered fully, trusting him to take you on this exhilarating journey.

Hours passed, each moment filled with teasing touches and whispered commands. You felt a mix of frustration and exhilaration as he controlled your body and desires, molding you to his will.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back, a satisfied grin on his face. “You did well, my little doll. Now, it’s time to reward you.”

He reached for the key, and your heart raced as he unlocked the chastity device. The rush of freedom was intoxicating, but you knew the true reward lay in his hands.

With a knowing smile, he led you to the bed, where he would unleash all the pent-up desire, guiding you deeper into the world of dollification and chastity. Tonight, you would be his perfect plaything, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you both.

[the-kevcorn3r]

i kinda want one of those skeleton grope tank tops

( yknow, one of these. ^^ )

but like, i want to wear it EXCLUSIVELY when we're binding.

i wanna make it look like the skeletons have stolen our boobs and are futile-y coming back for more boobs.

[thlayli-ra]

Drawing Scenes from my Fanfictions, from Break These Chains

'Knight had always assumed that you had to be asleep in order to have nightmares. However, as he slowly started to come to, he found to his dread, that he'd been very, very wrong!'

[lionheartair]

He's-- interesting, the singer. He looks so different from what he's used to, and yet he's right at home. The colors were darker, the light less flashy, but he owned that stage, he was meant to be on it. He moved just right to keep the crowd, and even himself, staring. And he kept the beat overtaking you, like the music itself was going to hollow you out, possess you. The instruments pound with the pulse as well, and he watches impressed, just seeing those fingers move along fret and string. This was live. They weren't just faking, lip-syncing to a pre-playing song. They were here now, making music that might never sound like this again. Something about that--- he doesn't know. He doesn't know what he's feeling. But he is enraptured entirely.

That longing lonely still reaches his ears. It's in the lyrics, beneath the anger. He wonders how much is real. He wonders if this is all perfectly done to sell the concept of lonely to others who felt it, or if the singer himself was trying to speak without so many words. There was no way to know-- not really. But the way he sings, the way his voice wavers and drops and bears the tone-- -he swears it's almost painful. Just enough to wonder. Just enough to feel it himself.

He was good either way, that much was certain.

But enjoying something new was short lived. Fear has him, the moment a hand coils into the fabric of his vest and button-up. The beating of his heart is still just as fast, but now it isn't excitement that fuels each pulse. He knows the music is ramping up the energy of the crowd, and it's easy to tell these guys are keyed up too, looking for a way to burn that energy out. Fight or flight at it fullest.

Of course, his own body chooses freeze. He feels that adrenaline shaking it's way through him. He doesn't even answer the question, too smothered by them closing in, heart rabbiting in his chest until he's dizzy and nauseous. The most he does is shove away the guy who'd pushed him, almost on instinct just to get some breathing room.

The guy stumbles back a foot, before looking even more pissed. He re-surges back, back into Artair's bubble, but this time he plants his hands on his chest to shove him. Artair cries out softly, more of a weak little whimper. His back already hurt from the impact, and it only aches more at the second.

The guy's face changes. "What was that?" He barks at Artair, who trembles, no idea what he means. Not at least until he grabs his shirt again, palms splayed. "Professor's got a pair of Cs!" He announces to the others.

Artair has several feelings at once. There's terror now, because of what that could mean for him from someone like this. The shift is subtle, but he knows the signs, he knows the look, the body language. While he's been in worse situations, here he is alone, surrounded, and there are far too many unknowns. Another feeling is revulsion. Is that.... really what he said. Really? He's been degraded before, talked down to. And yet this is certainly up there in his list of worst lines levied at him, if only because of the sheer embarrassment that a line like that was.

The other feelings fuel his hand into moving while he's stuck on how deplorable this guy is. his fist collides hard with his face, and he's just as surprised as the guy, watching him go down with a split lip and a bent nose under his desperate force. The guy sits up, bracing on the floor with one arm while his other hand wipes at a now bloody lip and nose. Artair's face reflects his own shock.

He reacts first. He darts to the side while they're all dumbfounded. Serves him right. It's his body---his. He was his own person now, and touching him like that--- no.

"Augh--- what're you standing around for, you lumps? That brat's gotta apologize for roughin' up my mug! Get 'em!" The command from the guy on the floor seemed to rouse the others. They move to box him back in, and while he had a head-start, they were blocking the main entrance. The other option was the crowd, so he slips inside, squirming through gaps between dancing and moshing bodies, looking for another exit with his heart in his mouth.

On the stage, Kit executed a light turn on his heel, dark red hightops scuffing across the floor. and then jerked his chin wordlessly towards their amp guy, a silent signal for him to tweak the levels of the amp. A quick thin smile of satisfaction briefly crossed his serious face as he heard the shivering silver noise of the few window left intact above them, thrumming with that deep bass that expanded over the walls and the concrete floor, making the very ground beneath their feet pulse like the rhythmic purr of some great sleeping beast.

His elegant black-gloved fingers danced skillfully over the strings of his guitar eagerly coaxing out that beautiful deep dark tempo, like rods of molten red hot metal spinning and manipulating them into music of black wrought iron: outwards, upwards, across the floor and into the souls of those that listened.

His eyes slid closed a moment as he sang and embraced the solitude of it all.

Artair had felt that aspect of his music accurately although of course Kit had no way of knowing this. Underneath it all lay a profound loneliness that had constantly mantled his life. He wasn't alone there on the stage and here in this warehouse. And yet he was. Always standing on the other side of a chasm that didn't seem possible to cross, frostbitten hands touching a wall of clear ice too thick to break, too cold to ever melt. Only ever observing those that lay beyond and the lives they led...but never really connecting in the ways that mattered.

The music was a demanding mistress. This was the price he had to pay to love her fully.

He opened his eyes again, giving his head an idle jerk that flipped his black braid back over his left shoulder, where a tattooed full sleeve of blood red poppies trailed down to the back of his hand. Up there on the stage, he appeared to only be gazing thoughtfully down at his fingers dancing over the guitar but in truth, underneath lowered eyelid, he studied Artair far off across the crowd: this quiet brown wren among a sea of raucous corvids, that blond hair like the pale flame of a candle in the pervasive darkness.

He was admittedly curious...

Unfortunately for Artair, he stood out to others as well. Without warning, a hand closed over the front of his shirt and he found himself under the hostile glare of one of the concert goers. Behind that guy, a couple of his friends with sneers plastered over their faces looked him up and down.

" The fuck you doing here, professor? " the man hissed at him, his grip tightening. Without warning, he slammed Artair hard against the wall, getting up in his face. " Think I need to show you this ain't your place... "

The men closed in around him, blocking out what little light there was.

[angelofacidx]

Dark brain worms read at your own discretion.

Retired Simon who takes up volunteering at a haunted house during October. He’d gotten sucked into it after agreeing to accompany Johnny once and the owner damn near scouted him. Acting is NOT his thing, but fortunately he’s scary as fuck just…standing there in a mask.

He didn’t expect himself to like it as much as he does. Terrorizing grown men and making them scream as if their balls hadn’t dropped yet fuels the ego boost he’d been missing. He’s still got it.

However the real treat is when a pretty thing like you walks through with your friends, wide doe eyes and trembling hands as you sandwich yourself firmly in the middle of the group. He can’t help but reach out, hands squeezing the fat of your ass in the darkness, low groan muffled by the cheesy mask. He leaves his position, stalking behind your group until the end, into the parking lot, and watching you pile into a car that he mentally notes the plate number of.

He’d drop by later to give you a real scare.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

There was a time when the trelawney-esque plant mum aesthetic - big glasses, long wavy hair, new age hippie leanings - was a strong indication a woman was a safe and kind person to be near.

Now, much like their Dear Leader, it's generally an indication that they're a homophobic terf who will tell me that, as a bi man, they couldn't possibly date me 'cause I'd give 'em AIDs. Weird how culture shifts.

[bloodfreak-boyking]

i literally can't stop thinking about shifter!dean so i curse thee with a brain dump ficlet. cw for non-con groping & kissing

---

"See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life," the shifter said, Dean's stolen face barely visible in the dim sewer light. His eyes flicked between Sam's, hurt and something unidentifiable swimming in them. "Me?" He leaned in closer, the space between them growing hot and humid. Sam could feel the shifter's breath on his cheek. "I know I'm a freak."

Sam scowled, glaring the creature down. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was a lot of things; a nerd, a jerk, disgustingly charming, but not a freak. That title was reserved for Sam.

A grin twitched across the shifter's lips. "Oh, you don't know, do you?" it said, amusement thick in his voice.

Sam knew he should ignore it, this impulse to get insight into his brother's mind, his thoughts and feelings that he kept held so closely to his chest. The thing would probably lie anyway. But Sam was never good at resisting temptation. "Know what?"

Not-Dean was suddenly straddling Sam's thighs, a lascivious smile on his face. Sam instinctively tried to move away, but the rope kept him from doing much more than squirming under the creature's weight. A low chuckle rumbled in its chest. "Dean here?" It shoved its hand between them, roughly palming Sam through worn denim. Sam tried to stifle a gasp, only half succeeding. "He wants you. Hell, he's wanted you since he was seventeen."

Sam felt frozen, shock making his limbs feel numb. Or maybe that was the rope cutting off his circulation, he couldn't really spare the brain power to tell. "Wh-what? No, you...you're lying."

The shifter leaned in closer, nipping at Sam's earlobe. "Oh, the things he wants to do to you." He ground his hips down against Sam's lap forcefully. "His sweet little Sammy."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam registered Not-Dean was hard. Another sharp bite, this time to the hinge of his jaw, had him letting out a startled yelp.

The shifter groaned against his skin. "God what he would give to hear you make noises like that." It grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, yanking down on it hard. Sam, in an attempt to stifle a loud cry, let a pitiful whimper slip past his lips instead. The creature's eyelids fluttered shut. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."

Warm, plush lips were suddenly on him, sliding against his stock-still ones. Before his brain could send the message of no bad no, his own lips were moving. The shifter growled and pulled his head back further, drawing a gasp out of Sam and giving himself an opening to lick deep into Sam's mouth. A soft moan escaped Sam. What could he say? The thing could kiss. Dean could kiss.

It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him. He twisted his head away, forcibly breaking the kiss. His heart was hammering in his chest and his stomach flipped and the worst part was, Sam couldn't tell if it was disgust or...

The shifter slowly stood, still trying to catch its breath. It reached down and grabbed one of their duffel bags, swinging it over his shoulder. "Well, it's been great, y'know, shattering your worldview and all," he looked Sam up and down once more, predatory, "but I've got a hot date with lovely little Becky."

...

"Well that's 'cause you're a freak," Dean, the real Dean, teased from behind the wheel as Saint Louis disappeared behind them.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, thanks," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Well I'm a freak too. I'm right there with you, all the way."

"Yeah, I know you are." Sam looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously in his lap. The shifter's words bounced around his brain: He wants you. He shifted in his seat and bit his lip, the next part of the memory playing involuntarily.

Dean shot him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Dean...um..." Sam readjusted in his seat again, the Impala suddenly feeling claustrophobically small. "Well, I, uh-"

"C'mon Sammy, spit it out."

"The...the, uh, shifter. It...well it...there's something..."

Dean shot him an annoyed glare "Sam," he admonished.

"Do you want me?" Sam blurted out, his face blooming scarlet and his skin too hot.

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "What?" His voice was too calm, too measured.

"The shifter, it said you wanted me. It...it kissed me. Do...do you want me that way, Dean?"

Dean was clenching his teeth so hard that Sam could've sworn he heard his jaw creaking. His knuckles were white on the wheel and his face, where Sam expected to see fiery red skin, angry or embarrassed, was drained of all color. Dean didn't respond or even look at Sam, just turned up the radio so loud that neither could hear themselves think.

Sam's stomach was in knots again, and this time, it was worse: he knew it wasn't disgust.

[windydrawallday]

NECK KI-- that's Not a Kiss

For sure he learned it from [Swindle] x'D

[puppieswh0re]

there’s somethin so finger lickin good about groping porn 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

i was watching some n it’s a hour long video n i’m halfway through. i started touching myself n i came within a minute just bc he ripped her pantyhose n shoved himself in 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵���💫

[countercharmda]

Early sexy Sunday thoughts but it’s just about Ren’s butt and thighs. Lad is chonky

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2023 Day 01: But Now This Room Is Spinning While I'm Trying Just To Fill In All The Gaps

Look at these canines, man.

---

IT'S THIS TIME OF THE YEAR AGAIN EVERYONE

When I first read the prompt, my mind IMMEDIATELY went "spinning. dizziness. vertigo. drugged. drugged out of his mind trying to make sense of it all and VERY much not able to fight back." Gods, I just LOVE me some good drugging. :D From there I just went with things I also absolutely love: the horrific invasiveness of someone TOUCHING IN YOUR MOUTH UGH and also the hot huge pointy canines I decided to give all the half-elves for no reason other than that I like drawing them. Also drooling hehehehe.

I warned for forced stripping etc., too, because while that was NOT planned, I was just SO THIRSTY for Botta's exposed belly lol. So when I was done the entire piece had this "wait, this DOES have a groping component oh damn" vibe?? So I'm warning for what it turned into even though it was not in my initial plan lol. I guess they're checking out just what they've got there...?????

[your-subby-creature]

Got a little wine drunk at the memorial day party and now I'm fuzzy and needy again, to precisely nobody's surprise

[sana-yan]

𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 (𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉) 𝕭𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝕿𝖆𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎 (Mar. 19. 1980)

[loveanddeepdick]

cw: slight dubcon, taking pictures, groping (all consensual)

obsessed!geto who loves spoiling you, taking you out on dates and buying you whatever your heart desires because he knows that you’ll let him fuck you in whatever he wants to see you in.

you want a new sweater? it’ll end up bunched around your collarbone as he tugs it up to stare at your tits.

“suguu!! stop it you perv!”, you whine as he intently stares at your mounds, reaching out to fondle them.

“calling me that only turns me on more, angel”

obsessed!geto will get you a necklace with his initial on it, a subtle display of affection. to you, it’s a piece of jewelry that you cherish. but to him, it’s his claim over you.

he watched the small initial necklace bounce against your neck and collarbone, back and forth, as he slammed his cock into you from the back.

drilling his cock into you and smiling, watching the shining metal around you neck, he leaned down to whisper in your ear

“mine, all mine”

obsessed!geto who always has his hands on you at all times, especially when you two are in public. it doesn’t matter if you’re wearing pants or shorts, he’ll have his hand on your ass. even better if you’re wearing a skirt, he’ll put his hand under your skirt and squeeze your cute butt!

if someone tries flirting with you while he’s not there, you best believe he’s coming back, running his hands over your back and wrapping around your waist.

“oh? who’s this, angel? no one? that’s what i thought”

obsessed!geto who just loves taking pictures of you when you’re vulnerable! at first it, it starts with him just taking cute photos of you but when you two start dating, he tests the waters a little, with your permission of course!

when you’re sleeping, when you’re in the shower, when you’re cooking or cleaning, he just loves anything you do!

his personal favorite is one where he snapped a picture of you when you passed out after a mind-numbing orgasm. your face was in your pillow, drooling while your nice little ass was faced up, showing how both of your holes were destroyed, gaping, and full of cum. he’s just so obsessed with you!! <3

AGH i love geto ill make a pt 2 soon