#cw gurgling

[weiner-does-preg]

AUgh sorry it’s so sketchy

[turboandfrank1]

Late pizza delivery🍕

⚠️warning⚠️: Kinky and vore

The pizza delivery was very late to deliver Tim but as she hears her door ring and knock at the same time yet? As her and the delivery was having a talked she have no choice but to trick it and devour the pizza delivery again..? Also her boyfriend (Brayden) wasn’t expecting her to Vore it…🍕✨🤤😋

(find out yourself and give a like 👍🏽✨)

[one-eyed-imp]

i think the gurglings would make for good pets, and i'll die on that hill. look at em. lil meat furbies. lil baby gremlins. cute girls yearning to taste raw flesh (kitten food works too)

[lyteandronix]

some zobie emeto because I felt like it.

CONTENT WARNING: vomit, stomach noises yadda yadda yadda

[muutosarchive]

William was pressed as close to Henry as he could reasonably manage, hands wandering down his sides as he pressed his open mouth to his neck in a trail of messy kisses. It was all so needy, paused only to lean back and catch Henry's lips with his own. The taste of smoke still lingered on William's tongue from his prior cigarette break. Only when he broke that kiss did he finally speak: "We're alone." A grin was growing on his face. "You could bend me over your desk and it would be just our dirty little secret. So, what are you waiting for?" ( WHY is this just william begging for attention fdksfhfdljsa / @spring-lxcked )

@spring-lxcked

𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤. never knows. william puts him away, turns tail & henry just... moves on. or tries his best to. because that's what he does. swallow shit & keep on moving. zoning out in daydreams he'll forever deny, faraway to keep from thinking -- or from letting himself feel too much. he's a bottler, & eventually all of that is going to come spilling into william's lap. one day he'll trust him that fraction over the line, & he will 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. however, today is not that day. today he allows. today he lets the electricity cling to his fingers. locked upon william's waist, tugging him even closer through his clothes. henry's desperation subtle, but apparent in his wide tilt exposing his throat. a leg hitching around william's to keep him close.

heavy weight of henry's head remains tilted forth with his eyes closed, & brows narrowed in concentration. he can't give the sonuvabitch to much leeway, can he?

his head instinctively leans up.. grunting low yet gruffly into the man's mouth, while pressing his tongue against will's with a lazy moan. elicited at the very taste of that cigarette. [...] always so distinct. like himself. all square jaw, cleft chin.. handsome features under stubble & a haphazard, shaggy haircut. manly, stocky & a bit short, with a grease smell clinging to him. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬. leg stuttering down as he grabs fist-fulls of the engineer's shirt. trying to avoid looking at him so closely.

his breath comes hot in a chuckle. "goddammit. you just don't let up do you?" he asks. "but... don't mind if i take you up on that. now that you've gone & riled me up...." he reaches up & grips will's collar, before giving it a tug. pressing the body against his a bit firmer.

"i think the question is, what are you waiting for [...] friend? unless you expect me to do all the work, around here." whispered hot & firm into his ear, he lets go of the collar with another soft chuckle. it comes off confident, because henry always is. with himself. is he starting to get a hang of this domineering thing?

"you know. i think i like you desperate." [...] "go."

[iwatcheditbegin]

I alway eat dairy lately then regret it a few minutes later. And it’s not bad enough so there’s legit no learning.

[weiner-does-preg]

Would anyone like a belly rub?

Meridy begrudgingly asks Auryn for a belly rub after a royal dinner.

Could be preg or just stuffing! Up to y’all ⭐️

[turboandfrank1]

The little Devils Mistakes (comic dub) /w Voiceacting

[dmitriene]

cw: obsession, friends with benefits.

simon riley gets rid of any men you choose to date, be it some youthful boy with charming words or older man with harsher voice and big plans, he makes sure they all go missing, have a taste of the forbidden fruit, of your company, before he gets rid of their existence, enough for you to think that they just ghosting you, to make you go back to simon.

needy, depraved of the attention you seek, constantly dolled up, all sugary smiles and chirping voice, but simon always the one to get the leftovers, get to you when there's no one else around, when you already been mapped by someone's else hands, scarlet blooming marks, disgusting scent of strong cologne, but that's when he gets to see you real, fully bare.

hiccuping saccharine sounds, sweet on his tongue when simon licks them with biting kisses, lapping on the drool that dribbles down your chin, as he helps you to bounce on his cock, to take, fill that gaping hole inside of you, the greedy pussy of yours, all soaked wet with oozing, squelching slick, coating the suppleness of your thighs and his veiny, spasming cock.

messy, as your juices drip all the way down to simon's drawn up balls, heavy with his potent load, as you gurgle in his swollen, rosy lips and suck at his tongue, taking, fucking yourself harder with tight, buckling circles of your hips, gummy walls snug and pulsing rapidly, blazing hot with your approaching orgasm as you sob out his name, tearing at his skin with your manicured nails.

simon creams your pussy, floods you full of his thick, milky cum until it's oozes out in frothy globs, mixed with your own fluids, all tacky and filthy as it drips onto your cotton sheets, and it's seates you, makes you all hazy in your post orgasmic state, hands wrapped around his neck, nuzzling, and little you know that you wouldn't be able to dump him again as a friend in the morning.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[habitual-creatures]

*somehow manages to snap fingers, poof sedated Kevin/Observer, glaring at IDOL*

…I feel like that isn’t true, but regardless hush…

...

[dearru]

get well soon | ft. hq boys

-> pairings: hinata shoyo, osamu miya, akaashi keiji, sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader | sfw | cw: sickfic, cursing, not proofread | genre: fluff | wc: 1.5k | mlist

-> synopsis: when you’re sick, your boyfriend is more than willing to take care of you.

❀ HINATA SHOYO ! 

The most irritatingly persistent man you’ve ever met. He is super cheery and optimistic about your recovery, but seeing as he is the picture of fitness, he takes illness very seriously. He refuses to let you do anything that will compromise your health.

It’s a constant push and pull between you two, and tbh he’ll always win. He’s super cute and endearingly eager to help you recover though so just let him dote on you, and it’ll all be over before you know it… 

You’ll be the first to acknowledge that Shoyo’s efforts in nursing you back to health have been nice. It’s been days since you’ve fallen ill, and your boyfriend has been the very picture of devotion: he refills your water, fluffs your pillows, and stays by your side until you drift to sleep. 

He’s so determined to help you feel better. It’s– admittedly– very cute. 

Swoonworthy, even. 

If only he weren’t being so fucking annoying about it. 

While he’s been kind, he’s also been a bit of a drill sergeant. In trying to reach the summit of the Everest-like task that is achieving your swift recovery, he’s subjected you to extremities you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. He forcefeeds you pickled plums, pours cough-syrup down your throat, and hasn’t let you check your phone once. 

It’s torture. However, you’ve let all of it happen, convinced that he only wants the best for you.

But today is where you draw the line. 

“You have to eat if you want to feel better!” He chides, his hand resting gently on the crook of your neck. His strength supports your weary body to prevent you from falling as he attempts to spoon-feed you your lunch.

“For the last time, I am not drinking bone broth,” you groan, jerking your head away for what feels like the billionth time. Your stomach starts to gurgle from the sight of the oily liquid sloshing about in the metal spoon.

Shoyo’s always been a bit of a health nut, but this is going too far. Did he truly expect you to eat the concoction he’s set before you? 

You’re somewhat convinced that he’s actively trying to poison you.

“But it’s good for you.” He whines. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard that phrase uttered in the days you’ve been under his care.

You huff, crossing your arms in defiance. “I don’t care if it’s good for me. It’s disgusting,” 

His lips press together at the sound of your reply. He tilts his head, and you can practically see how hard his gears turn for an idea on how to persuade you into letting him hand-feed you the symphony of blandness that is his bone broth recipe. 

Then, his eyes light up. 

Slowly, he pulls the utensil away from your face. You almost sigh in relief, until he brings the spoon to his lips and sips the broth. 

You feel sick from the sight. 

“See? It’s not that bad.” He smiles brightly after he’s finished. His hands make quick work of wiping the excess broth from his chin. “Plus, your body will thank you for taking good care of it.” 

Once you’ve recovered from the shock of watching him drink the poison, your shoulders slump in defeat. You’ve always thought you were the most stubborn person you’d ever met until you met Shoyo. When he sets his mind to something, he always achieves it. It’s infuriating. 

Rubbing your temples, you shake your head in exasperation. 

“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?” 

A widespread grin overtakes his face as he dips the spoon in the bowl once more. Cheerily, his palm moves from your neck to your jaw, nudging it open to allow the liquid to enter your mouth.

“Say ah!”

❀ AKAASHI KEIJI ! 

The KING of the “I told you so club.” He’s also so fucking annoying whenever you’re sick, but he’s also incredibly tender it’s heartwarming. His taking care of you is non-negotiable, and he loves doing it. 

Akaashi Keiji winning the boyfriend of the year award? Likely. 

“I told you not to go outside without a jacket.” Keiji sighs, rubbing your back as you cough out whatever hell-spawned virus you’ve somehow managed to catch over the past days. His lithe fingers gently run their way through your hair, a stark contrast to his unamused tone. “You did this to yourself.”

The loud hacking causes your body to convulse, and you stare up at your boyfriend helplessly. Once the violent fit passes, a sheepish smile twitches at your lips. 

“Can’t you be a little nicer to the love of your life? I’m dying over here.” 

“No.” He deadpans, reaching over to the bathroom counter to grab your water. He presses the glass to your lips. “Drink.” 

While gentle, your boyfriend’s always been rather blunt. Especially when it came to matters of health and safety. He was always right about these types of things, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to listen to him every single time. 

You were paying the price for your ignorance now, though. You’ve been bedridden for days with a brutal cold, which means you’ve also subjected Keiji to taking care of you. 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” you say, pushing the cup away once you’ve had your fill. “I feel guilty for burdening you.” 

He chuckles fondly and presses a ginger kiss to your forehead. The chill of his touch against your warm face makes you shiver. 

“Don’t feel bad. I love you– you can always rely on me.”

You feel grateful that you’re sick, otherwise, you’d have to explain the flush that possesses your cheeks from his kind words. 

❀ MIYA OSAMU ! 

He cooks the besttt soup ever and is super attentive, but also slightly impatient. It’s hilarious tbh. 

Osamu is the biggest baby alive when he’s sick, so when it’s your turn, you love to milk the experience! 

“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” 

“Huh?” Osamu exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. From your comfortable position on the couch, you catch as his head sharply turns to shoot you an incredulous stare from across the kitchen. 

You smile sheepishly. Sighing dramatically, you throw a hand over your forehead, “I’m just sooo sick. I’ve lost my appetite.” 

“Bullshit.” He scoffs immediately, flinging a dishtowel over his broad shoulder. “I’ve been slavin’ over the stove makin’ you soup for the last hour. How’re ya not hungry anymore?” 

He gapes at you. His expression is almost as loud as the bubbling of the pot in the background. The aroma of ginger and garlic wafts through the kitchen and tickles your nose enticingly, and you hold back a roar of laughter from escaping your throat.  

Shrugging, you sprawl over the couch, tucking a pillow under your chin. “Dunno. But I could go for a back rub right now.” 

“Yer impossible,” he mutters, shaking his head with dismay. “Do ya like torturin’ me?” 

“A little.” You grin. His displeased face only makes you giggle. The sound of your laughter echoes from your mouth and masks the grumble of your stomach. 

“What’s so funny?” He demands. 

“I’m just fucking with you.” You admit, eyes twinkling from amusement, “The soup smells great. Serve me an extra big bowl when you’re done cooking, okay?” 

“I hate ya.” He huffs, but he still turns his attention back to the stove.

“You know you love me."

❀ SAKUSA KIYOOMI ! 

Even though he loves you, Kiyoomi is still…Kiyoomi. He can’t risk catching whatever you have, but he’ll still fuel you up with a bunch of medicine and linger by the doorway to keep you company. He loves you, after all. 

If you beg hard enough, though, maybe you’ll get lucky enough to get him to bend his rules a bit

“Omi~” You whimper from across the room, “Why won’t you just come here and kiss me?” 

Kiyoomi’s figure lingers by the doorway, his handsome face veiled by a mask he’s insisted on wearing ever since you caught a cold. You watch as his face flickers in slight discomfort at the sound of your plea. A subtle paleness casts over his visible features. 

“Please?” You insist in place of his silent disapproval. “Don’t you love me?”  

He shakes his head in exasperation. “I think the cold medicine’s gone to your head. If I kiss you, I’ll get sick, and then no one will take care of you.” 

You groan at how logical he’s being. He has a point, but can’t he recognize how desperate you are? Who cares if you’re contagious? 

“But if you don’t kiss me, I’ll die from boyfriend withdrawals.” Squirming under the covers from impatience, your lips puff into a pout. “I’m not even that sick!” 

“Boyfriend withdrawals aren’t real.”

“They are when you’re as in love as we are.” You argue. 

He scoffs, but to your glee, he removes himself from the doorframe and walks into the room. Kneeling by the side of the bed, his hands move to softly stroke your cheek. You catch his gaze and lean into his featherlight touch.

Your heart bursts from the knowledge that you’re the only one he’d risk getting sick for. 

The moment is over as quickly as it began when he withdraws his hand from you. 

“You’re still warm.” He remarks. “I’ll wet the cloth again.” Rising from his position, he begins to exit the room, and you reach out to grasp his arm. 

“Can’t you stay? I just want to be with you.” 

You feel Kiyoomi tense under your grip, and he turns to face you. Sighing, he kneels once more, enveloping your hand in his. He gives it a tight squeeze. 

“Fine. Just until you fall asleep.”

“Thank you.” You gleam. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

—a/n: this is dt @pomeloblush. feel better soon! :3

[rebelfell]

So, I started trying to write this ages ago and now suddenly there is a blurb? Idk how it happened either.

18+, MDNI 1.5k

cw: smutty smut, oral (m!receiving) dom-ish!eddie (he’s back to being a docile puddle by the end, dw), spit and tears and cum (oh my!), face fucking, but make it ~*~romantic~*~

There wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t hurt.

The hinge of your jaw aching from being stretched open, your numbed legs tingling from being folded underneath you, your knees stinging from the scratchy carpet fibers digging into them. Even your hips and shoulders were growing tight from trying to keep your back straight.

Your tired muscles screamed out for relief, for a second of respite—but they wouldn’t be getting it anytime soon. Not when the reason for their pain was so delectably and deliciously handsome.

“How’s that, sweetheart? You like that?”

Eddie’s voice was low and rumbly, emanating from deep in his chest. Just the sound of it made your center spasm and flutter, thighs clenching together in spite of them having fallen asleep.

The only noise you could make was wet gurgles and glucks that barely resembled actual words. You kept your head tipped back so he could watch your eyes fill with tears you could hardly see through. You didn’t need to see to know how gorgeous he looked, though.

Standing over your kneeling form as you gazed up at the soft planes of his torso and tattooed pecs; the barely-there pudge of his belly dusted with his happy trail that grew thicker and darker the further down it traveled; his chest that heaved in time with the persistent rock of his hips.

“Poor baby,” he tutted from overhead. “Can’t say anything with your mouth so full of my cock, huh? Can’t even tell me how much you like it?”

Sympathetic as his words were, his voice was anything but. There was a mocking edge to his tone and a glint in his dark eyes that was almost mean as he stared down at you. He gripped the side of your head, his strong fingers curling around the back of your neck to hold you in place as you received the brunt force of his thrusts. Every stroke was steady and even, his pace never wavering. You sucked in a big breath through your nose and swallowed in response to his question, drawing him deeper into the embrace of your throat and whining softly around him.

“You don’t have to tell me, sweetheart—I know you love this cock. That’s why you let me do this, right? ‘Cos you love it so much?”

You swallowed again, his tip inching down your throat with the motion. It made his brow pinch—just for a second—and his lips part in a breathy gasp he scrambled to hide. But he was too slow, and he felt the hum of pleasure you let out that threatened to unravel him completely.

Those fleeting seconds were the ones you lived for—the briefest flashes of your sweet, soft boy showing through the cracks in his facade when his domineering mask slipped ever so slightly.

As much as you liked this guy, that one was the one you loved. The only one you’d let do this.

“You know my favorite thing about this?” he asked, his grip tightening as his pace started to pick up, his domineering tone getting even lower and more leading, thick and dripping lewdly.

Trying to regain his upper hand.

As if he could ever lose it with you.

Your head shook as best it could with him buried in the back of your throat, and Eddie’s mouth split wide in a crooked smile, almost laughing as he continued in a deep burr.

“It’s that you can’t even argue with me when I tell you how well you’re doing.”

His words washed over you like an unrelenting wave of arousal. Your eyes bulged wide in your skull and you felt your spine go slack with the shivers that rippled down your back. Your head practically hung limp, only making it easier for Eddie to thrust freely until you were gagging.

The pool of spit that had collected in your mouth spilled past your lips and dribbled down your chin, your tongue sliding out of your mouth to lay flat as Eddie’s cock glided over it unforgivingly.

He was at full speed now, barely pulling his cock back before it was ramming back into your soft palate. The wiry hairs at his base tickled your nose and cheeks with each pass and you literally felt yourself sinking beneath his influence, turning liquid and pliant, almost soupy with lust.

“That’s right, baby,” he went on, “you can’t do anything but sit there and take it…”

The tears that had begun to well in your eyes flowed freely now. You blinked rapidly, squishing your lids together trying to clear your blurred vision, the mascara clinging to your lashes likely leaving behind those mottled black trails Eddie loved to see running down your cheeks.

Your chest burned, seizing in anticipation.

Eddie knew this about you, knew how your need for praise and approval was constantly at odds with your inability to accept it. You and he had talked at length about how you loved the rush of having someone compliment you, but it was consistently followed by an equal and opposite   rush of shame. Feeling like you must have tricked or fooled them somehow into saying it.

His grin was triumphant when enough tears had trickled down your cheeks for you to see his face clearly, his plush lips spread wide in a wicked grin.

Eddie was so quick to compliment you, to ply you with talk that was as exalting as it was filthy. 

He was your biggest cheerleader—determined not to let you think for a second you were anything less than the talented, intelligent, kind, complex, hilarious, fucking ravishing creature he saw when he looked at you. But it was difficult, particularly in this area, for you to take his words to heart. To not immediately think he was just getting swept up in the moment, that he didn’t mean any of it. That he was just playing the part, saying his lines as scripted.

“Jesus, you’re so good at this,” he groaned. “I’d fuckin’ live in this throat if I could. You take it so… fucking…well…”

The last few words he punctuated with a punch of his hips. Your throat spasmed with it and your gag reflex made you sputter around his length, drool now running in rivulets down your chin.

“Goddamnit, I love you so much,” he gritted out, his voice cracking slightly as his mask started to slip again the closer he got. “Can’t believe I get to do this, can’t believe you let me—”

It’s the reverence in his tone that gets to you every time. You’d had men tell you before how they couldn’t believe you ‘let them do this’ and it always sounded so incredulous. Like it was dirty and disgusting, and like they were getting away with something. Not at all how Eddie says it.

He says it like it’s a gift. Like it’s the only thing he has ever wanted, and you’re the one offering him his dream come true. Like he isn’t convinced it’s real, or that it’s not something he’s dreaming.

“Oh, you’re fucking everything, you know that?” he asked, looking down at you with his own wet, glossy eyes, “you deserve everything, m’gonna give you everything…”

Your thighs clench again and you can feel your own arousal as it squishes in between your legs, your clit and cunt pulsating in time with the rapid beating of your heart. The tingling in your limbs has spread all over your body, distinctly more pleasurable than the pins and needles.

If you were ever going to cum untouched, it would be from this. No doubt about it.

Blinking through the last of your tears, you stare at Eddie raptly. He’s fucking gorgeous like this, all his muscles pulled taught, tensed and flexing and so close to snapping. His eyes are pinched shut, not quite closed like he doesn’t want to stop looking at you for even a second.

“F-fuck me, m’so close, baby. M’so fucking close, I’m gonna—ahh!”

His voice cracks along with his mask, his domineering tone crumbling into a needy and plaintive moan. With one final thrust, he pulls out of you and wraps his fist around his cock that’s soaked in your spit. You gasp, taking the first full breath you’ve had in ages and stick your tongue out, flattening it against your chin and tipping your head back as far as it will go.

It doesn’t take but a few quick strokes for his warm, salty spend to splatter across your tongue. His expression is almost pained until he sees the look of relief that washes over your face.

Only then does he permit himself to feel the full sensation, to revel in your mutual pleasure.

He drops to his knees, practically collapsing, and throws his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. His chest heaving against yours while he comes down, he buries his face in your neck and clutches at the back of your head to hold you to him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers, words tumbling out of him, “I love you so much.”

You swallow thickly, his cum still warm on your throat as it slides down it. Your head turns to kiss the side of his face and whisper in his ear, voice coming out hoarse but no less adoring.

“I love you too,” you mewl, more tears welling behind your eyes. “Thank you.”

All my love for indulging me — love you, mean it! 📸

[weiner-does-preg]

Could you draw Auryn incredibly stuffed and also incredibly pregnant for maximum skinny-body, big-belly contrast?

Can she even handle all of that?😵‍💫

[shuosen]

gojo satoru x top! amab! reader

cw: slight degradation, hair pulling, blowjob (r), slight choking, slapping if you squint, overstim?, stomach bulge

there was a very, very thin line between lust and fear that many don’t realize they’ve traveled. they stand to wonder if the shivers that wrack their body are from desire, or terror. Gojo Satoru, is not afraid of anything. he is the strongest, he knows he is the strongest. his confidence and strength has gotten him to where he is today- where is he?

he wants to say he’s currently wooing a woman, that he’s in a fight, and of course winning, but he cant. he cant say he’s out doing badass shit- hell, he can’t say anything at all. not with your cock stuffed down his throat, pulsing veins pressing against his flat tongue that struggles to maneuver across the girth of your member.

his large, strong hands shake helplessly in the air before he lays them on his thighs, gripping the familiar texture of his uniform. his eyes twitch before shutting tight, attempting to keep the tears in his eyes from falling, because gojo satoru does not cry.

he’s struggling to keep it together and you chuckle with as much amusement as one can manage, watching him flinch when the tight hand in his hair tugs harder. he wonders if this is what fear feels like, because surely this powerful feeling dwelling in his stomach and producing full body reactions is not lust. surely he is not lusting this hard for his colleague, and his friend.

your predatory eyes glaze over as he chokes on your cock, and you grip his hair at his scalp, thrusting into his throat and you’re sure you’ve successfully made any and all thoughts flee from his mind.

“you liking this, baby? hm? does my cock in your throat feel good?”

the only response you get are gurgles and useless whines as your cock and his spit clog his mouth, and you just have to grin at your hard work, finding pride in reducing ‘the strongest’ to a whore and a hole.

“thas’ right.. hu- fuck.” you mumble, rolling your hips into his mouth, listening as he chokes and gags each time your head presses into the back of his throat. It’s sloppy, he doesn’t know how to use his mouth for this kind of thing, but his throat closes around you with every gag and every sob he lets out, and he’s making you feel good even with no experience. you just think he is so pretty like this, face all red and messy, but you’re also sure he’ll be even prettier once you stretch him out and fill him up, and you know his noises will be music to your ears when you’re finally able to fuck him, so you pull out, taking advantage of his dazed state, listening to him sputter as you slap your cockhead on his lips.

“get up.” you order, grabbing his arm and aiding him to his feet, before shoving his face into the bed you were previously sitting on, listening as he gasps a deep breath. you waste no time grabbing both of his wrists with one hand while the other yanks his pants and underwear down to his thighs. the sudden movement makes him twitch in surprise, his fingers curling into his palms, a noise between a gasp and a groan leaving his lips as you manhandle his hips, moving him to your liking freely.

“shit, wait!” gojo stumbles over his words, trying to push his hips down and away from your hands, the snap sound of the lube cap somewhat ominous to his muddled brain.

“what?” you ask, bending yourself over his back, resting your chin against his shoulder and letting go of his wrists in favor of pulling his chin up from the bedsheets. “you want me to stop?”

he freezes at the question, something akin to a sob falling from his lips, because he didnt expect you to ask that and he sure as hell doesnt have an answer. if he says no, would that be stripping him of his pride? he’s a man with much dignity and little femininity. if he say’s no, he’s allowing himself to be fucked, which means he can no longer deny the lust and the longing for you, for your cock, but if he says yes, you’ll leave him here- his own member dripping and lonely, your burning touch fading from his body- and with a broken whine, he comes to the conclusion that the former is the better choice, letting himself go slack in your hold.

“no..”

“good boy.” you grin, and he flinches at the cold temperature of the lube pouring onto his hole.

it’s been hours- gojo thinks. hours since you first began prepping him, fingers sinking into his tight hole, stretching it beyond what he thought it could be, hours since you first sank into him, hours since your cock first grazed his prostate, and hours since his descent into becoming a brain dead cock whore began.

“A-auhhg! f-fuck! fuck!” He cries, his noises so loud that they almost drown out the slap of your hips against his ass and thighs, the reddening of them just one aspect of proof of how long you’ve been rutting into him. you wanted to be slow with him, treat him nicely and slowly unfold him beneath you, but these noises, seeing your cock disappear everytime you sink in, and the way his back arches was too good to resist.

you fucked into him harshly and deeply, your red, burning cock bruising his sweet spot with every sharp piston of your hips into his sloppy hole. he’s completely given up trying to save his image, the way he cries and moans and kicks as you take him is clear of that. he no longer cares about anything but you ruining his pretty, puffy hole.

the pace of your hips is so fast, and so rough that he cant register the difference between your thrusts in and your slides out, and he cant do anything but scream, his noises a mix of words, letters, and maybe your name.

through your own groans and puffs of air, you chuckle, something that sounds demeaning to his ears and he shrivels, a loud “n-no!” echoing through the small room, but neither of you know what he’s addressing.

“what’s wrong?” you huff, adjusting your grip on his waist, and leaning forward for a new angle. “HCK- Sh- Ughk!” he chokes, stuffing his face forward into the sheets and you click your tongue, moving your hand around, and pulling him up along with you by his neck, your fingertips squeezing the sides.

“i asked you a question, toru. you too fucked out to answer me properly?”

his breathing is heavy and labored and you laugh at his pathetic state once again. “whatever,” you mumble, letting go of his neck, allowing his upper body to fall onto the bed. “jus’ means im doin’ a good job.”

you grin, pressing a hand down on his back harshly, forcing an arch as you continue to rut into his sloppy hole. gojo yelps under you, his milky thighs shaking with the effort of holding his hips up, his hands gripping onto the sheets beside his head as if they’ll run away. you’re sure he’s cum multiple times untouched now, but every man wants pleasure on his dick, and maybe it was an act of mercy, or maybe it was just your evil mind, but you reached under him, squeezing his cock in your hold, beginning to jerk him off.

at the first feathery touch of your hand, gojo screamed, jolting forward, his legs kicking upwards, desperate hands trying to push yours away from his sensitive, leaking dick as you pound into his hole and jerk him off at the same time. “s-no! shit! cant!”

“you can.” your sentence is punctuated by a slap on his ass and his whole body jumps, his shoulders shaking as he curls into himself, and he looks small.

your thumb rubs over his tip continuously, and his hips buck so harshly your forced to let go, and your hand brushes over his stomach, feeling something that makes your hips stutter, almost pausing in their ministrations.

“fuh-fuck.. ‘toru, no way.” you laugh, bringing him up so his back is flush with your chest and you peer over his shoulder, delivering one deep, harsh thrust into him, confirming the cock bulge in his defined stomach.

a groan erupts from your throat, and theres no time wasted before your pressing him into the bed with your back and your hips, fucking his hole again, but this time- your sly hands rub his stomach, before pressing down with force, right where your cock is, and gojo squeals, his voice high pitched, desperate and messy like a common street whores.

the sound tips you over, your pace slowing, and gojo, as spent as he is, breathes a sigh of relief, taking deep breathes in, before pressing his hand against your abdomen, trying to push your cock out.

“oh? we aren’t done so soon..”

please like and reblog to show your support! this is my first piece of writing, and english is my second language, so i’m a little worried about how its come out. thank you! <3

[dmitriene]

im not sure if your requests are open. im so sorry if not!

have you ever thought about the

"please slow down" reader

x

"no." simon riley

trope?

cw: no hurt or angst, pure sex and overstimulation.

simon ghost riley has you strung, tight and without a way to wiggle out, flee, from where you're splayed beneath the shadows that dance upon rumpled, furling sheets, tangling in between your twitching limbs, pooling all around your frame, bowed up towards every brushing touch, and you look at the way the shadows crawl up the walls and your body to obscure the honey warmth of his eyes, now appearing as if poised to pounce, ravage.

this is his trait, to have control, to wrap the strings of your most secret desires around his scarred fingers and tug, get you down to your lowest, as deep as possible, to see the glaze that clouds your judgment and mind, reflecting upon your watery eyes, blown wide with almost manic revere, to know that you've had fallen under his desire to subdue, trembling under the biting of his hands and mouth, with your hands pinned in surrender.

there's a hiccup of a plea tearing through your clattering teeth's, tumbling from your slack, spit soaked lips, flesh bitten raw, swelling under each devouring, licking kiss, you beg him to slow down, his rapid, strenuous movements of muscular hips are stretching your cunt out, leaving you numb all the way from your pussy to your toes, gushing around the intruding, pistoning weight of his engorged cock and kicking your feet, useless, ineffective gurgles spilling from your drooling mouth.

a desperate prayer, jumbled litany, met with a low, gravelly growl of refusal, thrust turning more choppy, as he forces himself even deeper into you, where the battering ram of his cock could be seen moving beneath your tender skin, each followed by a squelch, lewd sound of your pooling, dripping wetness, viscous and clinging to every veiny inch of him, throbbing when you writhe, squeeze, clamp with a shudder wracking your fragile spine, your hands wound tight around his neck, scrabbling over anything your nails could sink into.

you are stripped bare, unraveled, littered with bruises, blooms of tingling hickeysand sharp indentations from his teeth, scattered in chaos all over, the timbre of his voice are animalistic, clawed up deep within his rumbling, heavy sculpted chest, pinning you down, swallowing down your keens and beading saltiness of rolling tears, and there's nothing you can do, not until he's sated, having you where he dreamed of every single day, cumming all over his cock and pubes.

main masterlist. quidelines.