#dol smut

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Demon Whitney

— ✧ pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 10,467 — ✧ warnings: incubus demon, dubcon, mind break, degradation, breeding, creampie, aphrodisiac, bullying, name calling, multiple orgasms, blowjob, throatpie, floating sex, cervix fucking, claiming, dacryphilia, piercings — ✧ synopsis: he did warn you, after all. don't make a deal that you can't hold up, or you'll find yourself in some serious shit, slut.

— ✧ A/N: if you asked me why i struggled so much with this piece, i wouldn't be able to tell you why. i hope you're unable to see the difficulty i had when reading it, and i hope to god it all makes sense. im going insane. thank you for reading.

also, this entry to my kinktober list is perhaps the most 'lighthearted' of the bunch, so enjoy it while it lasts lmfao...

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

He knows your sordid type well enough by now, which will ultimately be your downfall.

Lonely, first and most of all. Like an abandoned little puppy kicked to the side of the road that is life, so easily forgotten about by your peers— which means that, for him, you’re effortless. Far too simple of a target for a demon of his calibre, of course, but beggars cannot be choosers in his line of work. He’s become well acquainted with that fact by now, given how long he's been night stalking after your kind.

Maybe you’re just weird, actually. Maybe that’s why you’re left sorely untouched yet, in which case it’d be your own fucking fault for not learning the rules of your community and fitting it by now; there are cues to social interaction, y’know? Or, perhaps there’s a more reasonable explanation as to why you’ve been left all alone and in his company… Like the fact that you’re into some fucked up shit, evident by the way he floats precariously in your dark and messy room, lights already dimmed for his absolute pleasure. That’s probably it, right? Nobody wants to be friends with a fucking freak who spends her free time combing through tomes of the dead, flicking through page after page to find the exact chapter bearing his name. A woman on an unholy mission; it’s understandable that others would brand you as an outcast given your penchant for, well… him.

Secondly, you’re desperate. In part because of how lonely you are, right? Clawing at your own throat for something, just a little bit of anything, really. You’re not so different from his usual clientele in that respect. He can already taste the hot hopelessness swirling in your empty heart, thick and gloopy like tar, and he can’t fucking wait to swallow it all up for you. But you were never free of sin in the first place, were you? The slight parting of your lips in sheer awe of his presence is promise enough, comparing him akin to a tall glass of water, aren’t you? He can’t blame you, a lifetime spent stranded in the middle of a desert pool is enough to make anyone desperate enough for a demon, grasping at every single straw that passes by you, just for a fucking chance at some human connection. It’s so funny how sad and pathetic you look right now, big puppy eyes begging up at him wordlessly; please, just a little bit of anything, even a closed fist would do. Pathetic little girl, fuck, his tight underwear is already tenting towards you at the mere thought of corrupting your wishes.

You should have never settled on him, don’t you know that he’s no good for you, darling?

But most of all, there’s only one true type of girl who’d even think to try and employ his services seriously enough to view him in person. Scanning through passages of bad handwriting, likely hours spent decoding and translating— all in the vain hope of meeting him... You’re quite simply a grade A fucking slut. Whether in practice or in heart doesn’t matter matter to him, it’s the same difference at the end of the day. But you, however, appear the be the latter. Fucking whore deep down, your already blushing body is a dead giveaway, just begging for a beating, ain’t she?

Poor thing, you probably don’t even understand why your tummy fills with heat upon his arrival, do you? Prickling arousal through your veins from his mere presence alone, about the only thing that you’ve done right tonight is listen to your body and sought out help.

It’s just a shame that you seek it from him, dummy.

Carefully, he remains floating in place before you. One leg hooked over the other, leaning back a little to take a proper look of your trembling frame— is that from fear? Or perhaps… excitement? He’d be happy with either option, really, because you’re a real pretty one. For a fucking loser, anyway. And your room ain't half bad; he’s fucked mortals in much more disgusting places before— he still remembers the countless basement dwellings he’s regrettably fucked in, ugh… But you, you vile little creature, knew he’d want better, didn't you? A side smirk tugs on his lips at the way you gulp at his half lidded gaze, like a lamb put up for the slaughter. Don’t wanna bite first? You have thought this through though, haven’t you? Summoning a demon, let alone one borne out of lust, is no easy task. One as strong as him, too. A swift glance down under him shows your perfected circle, each point and curve of it meticulously painted in the hopes of a successful show. And, well, he can’t rightly let you down now, can he?

His arrow tipped tail swishes idly behind him, a low hum of approval crawling up his throat as he fixes his hair for you, keeping one eye hidden behind his blonde bangs. While he certainly views your kind as the lesser race, he’s not about to look as destitute as you currently appear— standards and all that. He’s got a reputation to keep up as the number one fucker; metaphorically and physically. And that reputation seems to extend to the living realm too, if your subdued reaction to his commanding appearance is anything to go by. Dumb little girl, his cock twitches for your attention at the way you already seem to know your place beneath him.

So much so that your voice is lost on you, right? He’s been through this a thousand times before— perhaps even millions of times. So many faces, names, backgrounds. But always the same experience at the end of the day. Is he that scary? Barely there clothing keeping your mind racing as his cock bulges behind the skimpy fabric, showcasing the smallest peek of his branding tattoo upon his pelvis. His chest is on full display for your wandering eyes too, pierced for your perverted mind to dwell on; look, he communicates wordlessly with you. And like a fucking dog, you listen. Watch, his tail swirls, and your eyes, too, spin with the movement. Even his cracked horn is attractive to you, right? Perfectly sized for your grabby hands— God he can’t wait to fucking ruin you. Destroy any chance of salvation you’ve got left, if you even had any to begin with given the way you eye fuck him from the floor.

He just adores little freaks like you.

But alas, his presence seems to have sapped all of your courage. Where was that stupidly honest girl who spent all that time attempting to summon him anyway? And why did you replace her with such a meek, pretty mutt, trembling before his very boots?

It’s clear that you don’t want to make the first move— it’s rarely the case with you humans, so he steals the opportunity away from you before your small little brain has a chance to catch up with itself. You’ve fucked up now, slut, is what he’d like to say. But he’s nothing if not a business man, and he’s learnt well enough by now that he must butter you up a little, as it were, first. Formalities and all that boring shit, ugh, perish the fucking thought.

Especially since his cock is already rock hard and raring to go, he can already tell what you want from a simple glance at the way your whole body shivers at the wet spot forming against his panties.

“So,” he starts, but then you instantly flinch. And he has to try really fucking hard to suppress a sadistic smile at the sight. You've got some real pretty lips, actually. He wonders how they’ll look when stretched around his throbbing cock, all puffy and wet with spit... He clears his throat, shakes his head, and then tries again. “So, what’s the deal?”

You’ve read the rules by now, surely. They’re contained in the texts you used to summon him, his gaze flickering to the tome by your side— opened right on his page. But fuck, the human who wrote it could have at least drawn him better, surely? Looks nothing like him! The illustration does very little to capture his hard worked for abs—hours upon hours of fucking will do that to ya—nor his well cared for hair. His horns appear to remain intact on the pages too… God, it’s old. He should ask someone to update it, if only to appropriately depict his meticulously cared for beauty.

But for as stunning, quite literally, as he is, he can practically see your dumb little head working overtime to catch up to your current predicament. Self imposed, mind you. Rule number one, he can freely deny your request if he so much as wants to. He hasn’t felt the need to do so with anyone yet, so he cant see that rule being an issue now, not with someone as depraved as you. Rule number two, once he accepts your request, he must see it through to the end. He’s always prided himself on being a man— or demon, rather, that follows through on his words, so you needn’t worry there. And rule number three, you must give something up to him in the trade. Traditionally, that’d be your soul, but there are other means to please him.

He’s got an inkling you’ve not got much else to present for his tastes, though. Lonely little girl, poor in all respects, aren’t you?

“Well..?” he prompts you when you only sheepishly gulp up at him. “Out with it, mortal,” he spits the title as if it pains him to even say it, puffing his fringe from his face in feigned annoyance. It's a mere show and dance, but he figures you might appreciate it from the way you wriggle in place. “What’s the deal?”

“Um…” God, you even sound like a fucking loser. Just that one single syllable and he’s already rolling his eyes at you, though his cock nonetheless jumps at the sound of your hesitation. Stuttering and tripping all over your thoughts; haven’t you thought this through enough already? Lonely little girl, need to summon a whole ass incubus to quell the fire in your tummy? Got no humans who wanna touch you the way you need? Fucking pathetic, how utterly terrible for you, it’s laughable.

Fucking hot is what it is. Especially when you mumble a stupid little: “Y-Y’know… the usual…”

And fuck, he can’t deny the way his cock fucking throbs to life any longer at how stupidly desperate you are. Your voice is utterly dripping in loneliness, a needy plead of understanding. Of course, he does understand you. And fucking well at that, just like all of the other useless saps he’s had the misfortune of serving. But there’s a hint of something sweeter in your voice, too. A little taste of kinship, perhaps?

He can’t wait to fuck it out of you, whatever it is. Would that he could reach his fist down your throat to grab it all for himself right now, but you humans are soft and squishy and not built for such horrid actions, right?

“What’s that?” he sneers back at you, obvious in his false distaste of you. “Didn’t quite hear ya, c’mon. Speak up, human.”

He’s only giving you a taste of what's to come, he reasons with himself. You better get used to it, and soon too, if you’re ever to explore the side of you that you’ve yet to embrace. And he’s always enjoyed playing with his food, teasing with you as his cock dribbles precum against the barely there clothing he’s opted to wear tonight, flirting with his tail as it swings back and forth behind him. He had a funny feeling he’d be meeting some idiot like you tonight, so he tried his best to look the part.

“I— um, y’know… s-sex, in exchange for…”

A few more empty seconds pass, and he lets out a telling heavy sigh at your reluctance to voice exactly what you want. He hopes you aren’t this bland in bed, too. Lest he forgets that it’s often the quiet ones who are the real nasty freaks, right? Biting down on his bottom lip briefly to still his expectant heart.

“Your soul, right?” he finishes your sentence for you, snickering to himself at the way you hang your head low before nodding, as if he was the kind of company to act prude in front of. Fucking idiot.

“But,” Oh? The dummy actually has some sort of confidence? Enough to speak up with a question? His cock oozes some more, see, I was right about her. “What do you plan on doing with it? M-My soul, I mean? I wanna know before, um...”

He clicks his tongue idly. Such a let down, and yet still, lust pools in his tummy for you. He’s sure that you, too, can feel the tingles travel down to your clit. Is that why you're having difficulty talking right now? Can't catch your breath? “Whatever I want.” He answers you plain and simple, because it's true. It'd be his, you wouldn't even think about worrying over such a stupid question by the time he's done with you, so what does it matter if he answers you honestly now?

“Right, but I mean… what will you actually do with it…?”

He pauses for a moment in faux thought, then promptly follows the action up with more meaningless platitudes in the form of an absent yawn and stretch. Like he’d rather be anywhere else than right here, in your dimly lit bedroom, feasting upon your shivering body with a trembling cock and excitement swelling in his chest. “Who cares for the details, my sweet?” he internally gags at the false show he must preform before getting you under him, but nonetheless keeps you hooked on his sugary sweet lies, because he's an expert in his field. “All that matters is that I accept your request, which is what you wanted, right?”

It’s fun at least getting to watch your lagging expressions catch up, a bubbled quirk of your lips causing his chest to tighten with agitation— you’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you? Nodding so coyly, like he’s putting words in your mouth, which he’d never; it’s against the rules of his existence. Though even if you play shy with him, he’s well aware of the darkness tainting your soul, he can almost taste the depravity in your every gasp and sigh. You just need help setting it all free, right? And, well, you can call him biased all day if you want— but he just knows that he’s the best damn demon out there to help unlock your deepest fantasies, to provide you with the lewd affection your heart oh so eagerly desires.

Losers like you always do desire, that is. Deeply, in his experience.

A tut automatically rolls off his tongue at your degenerate display, though hidden behind layers of put on shyness, he can see right through you. And he’s certainly not much better himself, he’s merely more honest. He can’t exactly afford not to be, what with the way his cock already demands your attention, red hot and angry under his panties, rubbing nicely against the soft fabric to leave him cooing for more. He clears his throat to rid the faux showmanship from his chest, letting his float drop with his heels clicking against your floorboards.

You’re so fucked, he muses to himself. Taking in the sight of your seated position by the chalked sigil on the floor, how small and soft you look down there. Humans are, always, much too soft for his liking. Unable to withstand his speed or stamina as well as his fellow kin can, but he rises up to the challenge of the glint in your eye with a puff of his chest.

It’s as hes standing right before you, tall and imposing with his fat cock pointed towards you—can you see his balls already from that angle? How fat and fucking full they are for you, the veins running along his cock just popping under your unknowingly sultry stare—it's there that he levels with you. Metaphorically speaking, because is he fuck physically dropping down to your debauched level, regardless of who he is. He’s not just cocky for the fun of it— though it is fucking fun, watching you grow smaller and smaller by the second as he inches closer, like your body intrinsically understands her place under him. But he’s got the skills and the stories to back his attitude up, to prove why he deserves to carry himself with such confidence, making sure you shake and shiver just a bit more out of apprehension before offering you a final warning.

But it’s not really a warning, not with how easily he grabs at you, swiftly forcing you to stand on two feet as his commanding presence demands of you. Wobbly knees and all, he struggles to stop the eye roll that begs to scold you at how eagerly you try to follow his instructions, whether you’re aware of it or not. It's only natural, given his lustful existence, that you'd want to adhere to him. It’s cute, you fucking predictable whore.

“Didn’t anybody teach ya not t’make deals that y’can’t hold up, slut?”

Venom spits from his tongue in the reprimand, his pointed tail swishing behind him in interest at the way you pleasantly shiver in his bullying hold, unable to speak up for yourself as he sneers down at your quivering bottom lip. And then, disgust tugs at his expression, boring dagger eyes against your woozy gaze back at him.

Of fucking course. Loser girls like you don't know what it's like to receive attention, right? Any kind, even his perversion, is good attention to you. Even if you don't understand why your tummy turns with butterflies upon his seedy inspection; look, he likes your tits! That’s enough, right? That makes you feel all squirmy in his hold, struggling to keep your composure at the way he eyes you up and down, as if sizing you up. It is, obviously, not even a fucking question. But he deeply enjoys the way you appear meek under his gaze, his presence seemingly already affecting you to the point of submission— dirty fucking mutt.

“You’re gross.” He barks at you, letting go of you without warning only to selfishly watch you fall back down onto your ass— there’s no need to treat such an awful girl like you, one who gets off on getting bullied into submission, with any kind of respect. That’d only work against his goals, right? No… lonely girls like you need mistreatment, because it’s all you’re fucking used to getting anyway. A cycle of abuse that’s led you straight to him, his cock drooling all over himself at the mere thought of your misfortune. Poor thing, you just don’t know any better! So here you are, scrambling to get back onto your knees at least as he tugs his explicit panties to the side to show you exactly what he thinks about whores like you. He can do nothing but take advantage of you, really, because it’s what your body is begging him for.

But for someone so fucking lame in every respect, you somehow manage to endear him with those big wide doe eyes and fluttering lashes staring back at his cock when it greets your line of sight. Adorning the tip is a little silver ball, pierced just for you, didn’t you know? Fat and wet, beads of precum already dripping from the metal and onto your floor with a light thud! from the way you practically drool over him already. Is his stink that strong?

He hasn’t even started subduing you with his pheromones yet, you fucking slut. Not on purpose, anyway. Maybe a little unknowingly, but it’s like he said— he can’t help himself when it comes to loser girls like you. Residing a soft spot in his heart for you in spite of his rough exterior; you’ll be so fun to toy with.

With a click of his fingers, a cigarette pops into his mouth, shortly followed by a flicker of flame between his index finger and thumb. He takes a long inhale of the stick, a moments breather to carefully watch your movements as your lips part and hot air fans across his demonic dick. Fuck, you must know what you’re doing to him, right? Barely exhaling any smoke before puffing away at his cigarette again in sheer sexual tension, and then he exhales the excess smoke across your face— a fair exchange, don’t you think? But he can’t stop himself from looking at those pouty lips. Pretty and puffy, so soft looking even from afar. It’s impossible not to want to fuck em, ruin them and make em all messy with his precum. The perfect lip gloss, don’t you think?

“C’mon then,” he prompts you nonchalantly, wagging his cock in your direction with his free hand while adopting a rather bored expression at your avid display, a smirk working its way to his lips at the thought that you probably have zero experience in this regard. So he helps, just a little. Just to get things moving for his own sake. Grabbing the base of his cock unceremoniously to tap his tip against your pouty lips, inevitably smearing copious amounts of precum across them to leave you all glossy and glazed, shit… His piercing looks so nice when pressed against your pout. “Get to work, slut.”

You huff a little, eyes crossed momentarily to watch another fat bead of pre dribble from his tip. Or are you eyeing up the silver adorning it? Wondering how it’ll feel when lodged far down your throat, further than you’ve ever felt before? “Aren’t you supposed to be working for—”

“Quit yer fuckin’ yappin’.” he scolds your question by taking the opportunity of your useless mumbles to instead shove his cock past your open lips, puffing away at his cigarette lazily as you sputter around his surprise intrusion. Sure enough, he’s here to service you, but he’s been called a selfish lover plenty times before. And he’s not about to change that for some fucking slut like you, a lowly human bossing him around? Fucking never. And besides, a little cock sucking is the least you could do for him, providing the experience he’s about to give you anyway.

But rather shockingly, you simply let him rest his tip upon your tongue without much resistance. Dribbling salty precum across your taste buds— not that you had much of a choice in the matter to begin with anyway, but it’s real nice to feel you relax around him immediately, enough so that his hips twitch further into you and his cock slips down your throat with ease. As much of it as you can fit in for a novice, anyway. You might have sucked a few cocks in your short lifetime; pity parties, no doubt. But you’re about to learn real fucking fast how to suck a cock well. Lucky you, you’ve got the best teacher for just that.

Without warning, he fish hooks your cheek. Devilish nails just barely digging in against the inside of your cheek, pulling your mouth further open for his gawking enjoyment. He leans back with the movement, towering above you to adore at half his cock down your throat. “Here,” he clicks down at you, blowing another trail of smoke against your face and likely down your throat for you to choke on. The snap of your cheek closing back around his cock causes him to hiss with unashamed excitement, trailing his nails against your scalp before grabbing at it. Rough and needy, he dribbles some more precum against your tongue— but with purpose now. “Give it a min.”

And true to his word, a minute is all it takes for him to feel your jaw slacken around his fat cock, precum laced with numbing; cause you’re a fucking baby, apparently, and need his help to suck a cock. But he’s too prideful to make this experience anything other than the best for you, if only to save his closely held reputation. He wonders if you can taste the metal adorning his tip, too?

“There ya go,” he praises you with a sickening smile, flashing his pearly white fangs as much of a threat as it is genuine joy from how easy it is to slip further down your tight throat now. “Much better, right? Slutty fucking throat, shit—”

He accidentally fucks a little too much of his cock inside all at once, coaxed into movement from how hard he throbs for your warm, wet little maw, and he has to drop his cigarette from his lips to hide a genuine moan behind his arm. The fuck— he’s never once felt so good so fast with any slut before, but the feeling of your squirmy tongue obediently wrapping around the underside of his cock as if on instinct fucking gets to him. Unfairly so, really, because he’s soon gripping at your hair even tighter, and yanking it back and forth; settling into a brutal pace from the get go. Far too mean for a slut in training like you, but he figures that if you already have pleasure shivers rolling down his spine just from throating his cock a little, you can handle further roughhousing. Must be his pierced tip, right? Cold metal to cool down the heat he fucks in and out of your throat, dripping precum right down your throat from how well he abuses you; fucking choke on it, slut.

His touch is as unjust as his thrusts down your dulled throat are, humping his hips against your cheeks with resounding slaps! against your chin with how wet with precum his balls are. Or is it spit? Drooling out from your wanton lips with his eager fucks, keeping your head pinned to his pelvis as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. Like his reputation means nothing to him the moment he watches your doe eyes roll back in impish desire and he can almost swear that he feels you smile against his rock hard cock. “Feelin’ good already, huh?” he mocks you, in spite of how much he’s acting up himself. Doing his best to save face in an effort to keep your submission by his side, but his dominance slips with every pass of his cock against your constricting throat. “Haven’t even touched ya yet, an’ you’re already gagging fr’more, aint’cha? Pathetic” he tries to laugh, but it comes out gasped and strained— embarrassing.

“You're fucking filthy,” he distracts you with more dirty words, fucking your face with a particularly cruel thrust to emphasis his explicit power over you. And you should be fucking thankful that he offered to numb your throat first with how fervently he chases the good feeling welling up in his tummy. Muscles all tight and taut, making sure you can’t escape his greedy fucks out of sheer need to stake his claim on you, to literally steal your breath away as his own. “You might look like a good girl, but fuck me,” he half laughs, cutting the sound of enjoyment off short so as to not reward you too much. That, and he has to exhale a huff of bliss from the way your numbed throat still yet squeezes tight around him with every dirty swallow you instinctively make around his tip. Like you enjoy having him violate you, using you for all your worth— that is to say, just your body. “Might look like a good girl, but y’were fucking made fr’takin’ cock, yeah?”

He knows a sinner when he sees one, and you sure looked so lonely, y’know? Creeping in the darkness of your own solitary room, awaiting the forbidden creature of lust to crawl into your lap like some dog to save you from the purity cast upon you by an unforgiving God. But, it’s even better to have his thoughts come true when he can feel how much sin you’re dripping with, staining you chin all shiny and sticky with the spit his fat cock throat fucks out of you, drooling on yourself in an eager display of want. He can already taste how desperate you are, gulping down around his cock without even knowing, because your body was made to serve, to please, and he’s not about to let the opportunity you’ve unfortunately presented to him tonight pass by.

By the end of tonight, he promises to make you his. Stupid slut, you should never have made a deal with him in the first place, because look at you now... All dewy eyed and fucked.

He could hump your mouth for hours on end, all day if he had the time, at least until it's sore. But he doesn't; or rather, he can’t right now. Because it’s downright embarrassing how close he is to cumming already, his cheeks flushed under your glazed gaze and jaw tight with barely contained restraint— not that it matters too much anyway; as an incubus, he could go on for eternity if he could be bothered to. No refractory period and what not. Load after load buried deep down in your every hole, fuck… he just knows that you’d enjoy that, especially given the fact that you brace your little human hands against the fat of his otherworldly thighs just to offer him the gentlest bite of your nails digging into his skin, like the fucking whore you’ve always been deep down inside.

He’ll thank you, maybe, someday, for seeking him to fuck her out of you.

But not anytime soon, for he’s far too enamoured by the way your tongue glides along his cock, leaving his tip sopping wet with lots of spit thanks to his incubus influence. Except, somehow better than he’s ever experience before. Like he’s finding out how everything is supposed to feel all over again, exploring that expert whore throat of yours with heavy weight behind his every thrust and a bite of his lip. You might be more sin than he is, he thinks to himself mid stroke, hips stuttering against your lips as he feels the way the tip of your tongue pokes against his slit, rolling his piercing around, and he’s fucking done for.

He immediately promises to get back at you, sooner rather than later.

“Fucking slut—” he briefly chokes on his words, unbelieving of the fact that ropes of hot seed now coat the inside of your mouth, dripping down your throat for you to gulp at when his hips refuse to let up on milking himself. His tone is as scathing as his cum is plenty, leaving you to struggle to take him for once tonight; though he hopes that it wont be the last. He does, however, carefully consider the way that you almost immediately swallow up as much of him as you can, and how that can’t solely be down to his influence on you. That isn't the naturally secreting aphrodisiacs doing, is it? “Harlot, God— fuckin’ take it then.”

He needn’t be so rude, but the way you look back at his harsh words and even meaner touch with hearts in your eyes is all the motivation he needs to continue. If you were seeking purity and kindness, you wouldn’t be swallowing every last drop of incubus cum, now would you? Laced with aphrodisiac, oops… Maybe he forgot to tell you about such details?

You’re a quick learner though, he’s saw as much. Letting his cock drop from your cum stained lips with a loud gulp of air, all sticky and white as a string keeps him connected to you, and he can practically see the confusion present on your stupid fucking face.

And like the demon he is, he takes advantage of your state of inebriation.

“More?” he rasps down at you, his heart racing at the mere prospect, cock still rock hard and an angry shade of red before your gasping mouth. “Y’want more already?” he says it with such feigned surprise, as if it were utterly inconceivable that a hole like you could want for anything but his cock rammed so deep into you that you forget your own name. An attempt to shame you from his holier than thou position, even if only because he’s much taller than you. In fairness, while he’s obviously (the most) part to blame for your sudden descension into demon-hood, clawing at his legs like a woman starved, voicelessly begging for just a little more, please, then we can be done—he knows it’s never just a little more—he thinks that he can’t carry all the burden of blame. Not when you look so fucking cute beneath him, pathetic and small, as you should be. Relying on him to take care of you, to show you how good you can really feel when no one else wanted to even think about touching a fucking loser like you. It’s your own fucking fault that you summoned a demon tonight, let alone one made in Lust’s image, and actually struck a deal with him. It’s your fault that your soft and squishy and pretty human body takes his abuse oh so well, a taunting coo escaping his lips at the way you softly nod back up at him, dumb and stupid, like it doesn't matter what he's saying, only that he's talking, and you want to listen.

It’s your own fucking fault that he can’t reign himself back in, not now, not after experiencing how well you suck cock after a little coaxing.

“Dummy.” He mocks you, adorning a mimicked pout at the way you’ve so easily been put under his spell. “Up,” he practically commands of you, adopting a snap authoritarian tone to combat his shivering spine. “On the bed, then.” He points to your lacking place of rest, following your raring steps with his own slow ones, cock bobbing between his legs with his constant erection. He can’t help it, you’re begrudgingly too cute to ignore, annoyance present in the way he shoves you into position as soon as he’s close enough to get his hands back on you. With his back resting against your bed headboard, and you pushed down to the end of the bed, he leers at the way your thighs rub together in anticipation, following your gaze down to his leaking cock front and centre. The silver ball atop it sparkling in your dim bedroom light, beckoning you forward as much as his curling finger and devious smirk does.

All it takes is a quick snap of his fingers to see you undressed, clothing falling from your body as if by magic. Demon perks or something. But fuck— he has to physically cover his mouth to hide his apparent shock, biting down on his tongue to quell the want to praise how pretty you are underneath it all.

He’s never quite met someone just like you before. How you clamber into position so easily, happily mumbling something—he couldn’t care less, truthfully, for the meaning behind your words. Only that you’re wearing such a dumb smile while hovering his rock hard cock—without a thought behind those pretty fluttering lashes. Fucked your throat so good, right? Not a single thought, no worries or anxieties… you just feel good, huh? Just as he'd internally promised you. Of course, he’s accepting of his part of the blame. It’s in his nature to seduce, tapping into his seedy essence to lull you into a state of perpetual arousal; or for as long as he sees fit, he’s sure he’s got other things that need tending to besides your pretty princess pussy today. But the innate neediness present in your actions, in the way you playfully bite your lip when ghosting your hole over his cock, letting your hands fall against his chest for stability; and worse yet, he allows you to dig your nails in again too. How you have his brows furrowing and hands automatically finding home on your hips, toying with your skin with little pokes and pinches— you’ve got him stuck, acting out of pure selfish need to tear you in two. Got him feeling a little dizzy with desire, as if this wasn’t his literal job and he hasn’t got all the experience in the world when it comes to wooing. Like you were fucking lying to him this whole time.

Which isn’t true, he knows. He has to help you stabilise your wobbly legs as you tuck them under yourself, straddling his waist like a newborn babe. You certainly aren’t as experienced as he is, but there’s something innately lewd about your being that he can’t even hope ignore. Cock straining under you, jerking in an automatic attempt to fill your hole.

Something that he wants to fuck into submission over, and over, and over again. Until you’re crying and begging for his mercy, because how fucking dare you get to him like this? Have him feeling like a fucking virgin all over again… It’s embarrassing, a humiliating clutch on his chest that he grits his teeth at in response just to bear the pain.

“Hurry up, slut,” he grabs hold of your waist tighter, showcasing his greater strength with such ease that even he’s a little surprised when you almost fall off his lap. “Don’t got all day.”

While he’s reprimanding you, he understands that ultimately, he’s the one in control. And he fucking bets that you wouldn’t have it any other way too, given how disgustingly lovesick you appear under his spell. Allowing him to manhandle you to his hearts content, a mix of sweet sighs and stupid babbles; he can just make out a repeat of please tumbling from your cock stained lips, and he’d hate to admit just how much he fucking loves hearing you beg for him out loud.

Which is strange, because he’s never felt the same way with any other unfortunate soul who just so happened upon him, intentionally or not. But hearing you completely stop breathing when the ball of his piercing runs along your slit, only to penetrate your cute little cunt a second later, is like music to his blushing ears.

Blushing ears? For fucks sake. His concentration is dwindling the longer he lets his tip catch against your entrance, simply seeping precum against your hole—not that you need it, mind you. Not with how your cunt simply drools over his cock already, you can thank the aphrodisiac for that. It's just that... He fears that if he were to move too much, he might do something he’d regret.

And he wouldn’t want to break his new favourite toy just after finding her, right?

But you mewl so gently, a soft sigh of some words, mumbled between gasps for air as he keeps you still on his cock. A little “Whitney…” escaping past your lips, promising to be your own undoing at the mere first syllable of his name.

It’s been a long fucking time since anyone has called him as such.

“Slut,” he reflexively scolds you, emphasising his frustration with how utterly and annoyingly perfect you feel when wrapped so tight around just his tip, as if you were the demon of lust, and he was your unwilling victim. “You’re such a fuckin’ slut,” his cock humps into you in one flick thrust, buried as deep as possible as soon as possible to leave you choking on his girth. You shouldn’t be letting him touch you like this, treating you as a mere pocket pussy as opposed to the human being that you really are, but he can’t deny how fucking good it feels to force his way into your tight heat, causing him to choke on his own words. “Fuck—” is all that escapes him, and try as he might to continue degrading you, the wind is knocked out of him from the perfect squeeze of your cunt, so warm and wet and fucking tight for his unnaturally fat cock, and he has to shake his head to rid the thoughts that you were made for him specifically.

Perish the thought of getting attached to your tight little cunt, he adopts a bruising grip of your waist to have you idly grind his cock, circling your hips atop his pelvis until he feels like he’s actually in control again, and not a heaving mess under you. Until he can catch his breath, and focus solely on how good your insides feel when squirming around him like that, his attention unable to choose between your scrunched up expression of pleasure as his tip humps against your cervix, or the way your cunt lips swallow his cock whole, leaving no trace of him behind.

Holy shit— There’s nothing quite like loser girl cunt, right? Needy, desperate, fucking whiny, loser girl cunt. Begging on the end of his cock while you sit atop his fat balls, once again full of cum just for you. All for you.

In reality, he knows that he’s the slut. It’s bred into him, soldered into his very DNA to fuck all the moves, including little shits like you who drive him up the fucking wall from how good you feel, dripping desperation down his cock as he lets you get used to the stretch he forces you to endure; he doesn’t want to break you yet, remember? There’s time yet to destroy this perfect little pussy, you should be fucking thankful that he’s playing nice tonight. Treating you with kindness he seldom shows with others— even if it irks him to do so.

And lest he forget his demonic ways, clicking his tongue at you once to criticise just how easy you are for him. Barely holding yourself upright on his cock as he swirls you around lazily, doing his best to keep up the dominating appearances in the face of your complete lack of such.

“Wanna see how demons do it?”

He’s not really asking you a question— he’s aware that you aren’t of the right mind to provide him a proper answer either. And even he, too, struggles to get the words out. Trembling with pleasure under you, unknowingly letting his hips roll into you just a little, a real meagre amount of friction to coax him into action. He’s as much a victim as you are at the moment. And he can’t stand that. So without waiting for your reply, he snaps his fingers at your side and strengthens his grip on your waist.

If he’s being honest, he can’t quite discern whether you’ve noticed the change of scenery before you or not, but your wobbly frame gives your body away at least. Levitating mid-air with his cock buried balls deep in your pretty pussy, floating on thin air— a small party trick at best, but there’s a part of him that wants to indulge in you. To really enjoy stealing the last remnants of innocence—if you even had any to begin with—away with one final heavy sigh. For he must steel himself for what’s to come, his heart thumping unusually at the way you flutter your lashes back down at him, pretty fucking loser, it’s a shame this life is wasted on such a good fucking fleshlight like you.

He’s never once wanted to ruin a human as much as he does with you. To utterly desecrate you would bring him so much joy, he figures. Steal your soul, remove you from all that you’ve ever known, and eat you alive. Over, and over, and over again. With varying tempos, different settings, fuck you into violation for all eternity and then some. Only then, he thinks, will he be satisfied.

Only then will your debt be paid to him, for ruining him for all else.

“Look at me,” his voice comes out all raspy, dripping with lust to immediately grab your hazy attention only for him to gawk at the dopey smile you flash his way. “Look at me while I fuck you, slut.” His hips pull down, leaving only the tip to remain inside of your cunt for you to whine loudly at. The loss of stuffing causing you to claw at his chest, a pleased hiss crawling up his throat for him to bite back with pitying laughter. You’re so fucking dumb already, with only one load of cum seeping in your tummy, his cock twitches at the mere imagined scene of how you’ll act when he fills your pretty pussy up with seed too, drowning you in his sweet aphrodisiac.

And though he has to physically tilt your chin in his direction, drinking in the sight of your shivering frame that his tail automatically curls around, it’s worth the fucking wait to witness the pure nothingness behind those pretty eyes. And they’re so teary too, of which he isn’t sure is caused by the lack of cock in your cunt, or the fear of having him ram it back into you… But he feels this burning desire well up in his tummy to produce some more anyway.

It only takes him a moment to disregard his thoughts and act purely on instinct alone, as God had intended of him. As he fucking should, finally.

Giving in to the way his tip leaks and stains your insides as his, he fucks his full fat cock back into your too tight little hole, humming contentedly at the way you instinctively arch your back all pretty and shit for him, moaning a broken string of sounds when he doesn’t let up from that first dirty thrust upwards. The sight of you struggling to take his girth and length even in spite of the additional aphrodisiac his precum continues to coat your insides with is so addictive, has him throwing even more weight behind his humps than he usually does, just to torture you that little bit more. Because you can take it, right? Because you’re now his slut, and his slut just loves to take his abuse so well, right? Body and mind, fucking you at such a pace that you’ve got no fucking choice other than to just take his brutal assault to your cunt, his tongue poking out in sheer concentration of how the effects of his aphrodisiac reap results in the tightest cunt he’s fucked yet— like you’re somehow made more susceptible to his charms or something— fuck, he can’t fucking focus on his thoughts when you’re mewling so pretty like that, dumb little baby with her tongue lolling out and pretty tits bouncing with his every heavy, claiming thrust. But you’re taking him so well, beyond his rather low expectations, anyway. And it’s distracting.

Though, it really doesn’t matter the reason behind how well your cunt sucks him off, because all that tumbles out of his dry and hoarse throat is a fucked out meagre “Tight fuck, ain’tcha?” his cheeks warming at the lacking dirty talk, but it’s not like he hears you complaining or anything. Quite the opposite, really. Leaning into his abusive touch, bruising your hips as he holds you in one place in the air, ducking and fucking his hips instead of making you move so as to leave you a drooling mess of a girl. So attractive to him, the way you can no longer form anything coherent, simple sounds of enjoyment and surprise escaping your puffy bitten lips from how often you chew on em in sheer pleasure. The complete lack of, well.. Anything going on in your head at the moment coaxes him into driving his hips into you harder, a little faster, as if begging for your attention some more. Look, it’s me that’s making you feel so good. It was worth it, right? Selling your soul for some cock, fucking idiot, such a good fucking lay, holy shit—

It’s been a while since he’s had a fuck as good as this.

But he’s nothing if not mean, watching the way you so clearly enjoy his thrusts, fucking into you with some inhuman speed or rhythm or tempo that you’re not used to— an attempt to convince you onto his side, and it’d be clear to anyone watching that it’s working. You are, however, a mere mutt to him. A sexy one at that, he’d admit only to himself. Pouting and huffing and sighing and moaning; he can find no other word to describe you other than perfect. Which is exactly why he has to be mean to you, to regain his hold over you.

So he stops. Ceasing all movement, no matter how much it physically pains him not to feel the wet suck of your insides attempting to keep him inside, bringing a thumb up to smooth over your hips, his cock throbbing with unadulterated want at the way tears bubble over your lash line to mark your cheeks a shade darker. Exactly, that’s the kind of power he wants to hold over you, forever and ever, so long as you exist. Nobody would blame him for keeping this pussy all to himself, surely.

And if they did, he wouldn’t care.

But before you have a chance to voice your concerns over his limited movement— because he still continues to hump against you. Fully sheathed in your little hole, and still yet he attempts to fuck deeper with barely there humps upwards. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just what your body does to him. Leaves his mind in a hot daze, swallowing thickly in the face of your whimpers for more, please, gimmie more—

He snorts laughter back at you, rolling his eyes in a faux show of boredom. If anything, he’s barely fucking holding on, digging his nails into your hips as a last ditch effort to restrain himself. It only earns him a pretty gasp from you though, which makes his situation all the more dire.

“S’your turn.” He pats your ass a couple of times, smirking up at you when you squeal excitedly in return; you humans are always so receptive to his touch, it’d be difficult to deny how cute it is to feel the way you squirm around on his cock to prepare yourself, one of his hands coming down to support one of your legs to make the act of bouncing mid-air a bit more tolerable. Though it should be easy, he chastises you internally. Weren’t you paying attention to how well he fucked you moments prior?

“Fuck me like y’need somethin’ from me, yeah?” he taunts you, voice low and seedy, leering at your misplaced determination as you brace yourself upon his body— though perhaps his words were a mistake…

Because he certainly wasn’t prepared for you to match his energy, enthusiastically lifting yourself up for a second or two only to allow yourself to fully drop the moment you’re given enough freedom to do so, hanging on to his every gasp and groan as his mind reels to catch up to his bodily reaction; fat cock just oozing fat beads of sticky precum into your squishy hole, leaving him dazed with the full feeling of how your cunt tries to suck him in deeper, how she twitches and squeezes so expertly around his cock— he can’t fucking stand you.

So he helps, just a small amount. You’d barely even notice the way he fucks up into you a little extra when you slam all the way down on his lap, one of his hands coming up to roam over your thighs, your tummy, pinching at every inch of skin he can reach to leave you just as tingly as you’re making him feel right now. His body positively vibrating with sexual gratification, cock trembling against every inch of your cunt; all the way up to your cervix with little kisses from his piercing. It’s almost impossible to get a hold of himself, tummy muscles tense to bear the brunt of your eager bounces, arms flexed under the weight of your exertion. And he can see the sweat collect on your forehead, body warming under his incubus ways, his lewd intent to swallow you whole— soul and all. Heating you up further with his nails raking up to your bouncing tits, taking an immediate liking to how soft they feel in his perverted paw— so much so that he just has to pinch at your nipple to make you whine like a bitch in heat, leaving him in shock and awe over how much he loves those sounds you’re making in response. He’ll teach you to enjoy pain soon enough, but it’s just as much fun getting to see you wince in the mix of hurt and comfort, unsure how to react when he rolls the bud between his fingers, tugging on your overly sensitive skin for his own personal enjoyment. It’s nice, isn’t it? It hurts though, doesn’t it?

Surely you must be close now, he bets. Given that he had neglected to let you cum earlier, he’s about ready to bust again himself, meaning that he might finally allow you some release, too. The ball of arousal in your tummy must be wound up so tight by now, especially since you frantically fuck yourself fucking stupid on his cock, providing him a silly amount of stimulation— enough to let him know that you’re gone. Far too gone to think reasonably now, focused solely on simply feeling good; which means that he has you exactly where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, though for selfish means only. He wants to keep feeling good too, it’s all he exists for, really. “Fuck, dont’cha want a little fuck trophy in your tummy, huh?”

A baby, of course, would not exist without his explicit intent. And he doesn’t intend on impregnating you— yet. But the addition of his hand that was holding your weight now moving to your tummy, rubbing the area above your womb so delicately in stark contrast to his otherwise rough treatment, seems to get you going with newfound vigour. Sat square on his cock, buried as deep as he can go in the hopes of his seed taking root, right? And it’s fucking hot to him, thinking about breeding you. Turning you into his little breeding bitch, fucking slut, you’d make the perfect little forever play thing, y’know?

And it seems you agree, pushing his hand harsher over your womb, heat spreads from his fingertips to privately mark you as his own. An instinct at best, a deep seated wish at worst. He opts not to think about it too much in the moment, far too focused on the way you grind your puffy cunt against his pelvis, as if attempting to find more cock to fuck into your greedy hole. Trying to match him?

Insatiable slut, he fucking loves it.

Despite everything that’s happened so far, form the way you must have spent so long summoning him— it’s not easy, he made it so. To how simple you were for him to seduce, a little cock sucking and you were like melted putty in the palm of his hands, or rather, on the end of his cock. All the way up to how well you ride him, like the flawless slut you’ve always been deep down inside, right? Humping his fat cock to your hearts content, hungry with your pretty bounces up and down, seeking his seed. In spite of it all, perhaps the final nail in the coffin of your devious deal is the way you desperately grab at his horns mid hump for more stability. That, in actuality, is what seals your deal for him. Renders him useless under you, a huffed growl crawling up his chest to scold your obscene action, whether you realise it or not; he’s sensitive there, especially when you tug on em so tightly, pretty pussy choking his cock almost as snugly, too.

It’s such a rash decision, how his hips start snapping up into you again, removing the option of choice from you with his sheer strength alone dictating the pace. Too fast for you to keep up with, turning you into a sobbing little fuck with the wet slap of his balls against you. Plump and so full for you, God, so fucking full again— he doesn’t think he’ll tire of you quickly. Which is a shame for you, honestly. He’s going to fuck you senseless, within an inch of your life, beyond that which he normally attains with his victims.

“Stupid bitch—” he grabs at the fat of your thighs, swiftly tipping you over mid air so that he’s on top of you, fucking away at your squelchy little hole with fast fucks and heaved breaths. Taking the opportunity of your dumb confusion to slip his pointed tail between your legs to rub away at yout slippery little clit, begging with every choked moan and groan to have you cumming already; he can’t last too much longer now. Not with your tiny human hands still yet on his horns, tugging him closer, pulling on his weak spots so carelessly— it’s about time he returns the favour in kind, no? Flicking his tail with practiced precision against your overly sensitive clit, overstimulating you into attempting to crawl away from him, pushing him off as much as you can— but it’s no fucking use. This is exactly what you signed up for, slut. His hips don’t slow down despite your protests, not even when you start to cry from the intense waves of pleasure that soon rock through you, creaming his cock so well, all sticky and messy and loud for him as he keeps his attention on your clit, circling her so good, but it’s too much for you to handle, isn’t it? His voice comes out in broken laughter, caught off by a genuine whimper of appreciation for how tight your hole gets mid orgasm.

“My whore.”

And the fact that your mind is so numbed from cumming so good—best orgasm of your life he bets—as well as the additional help from his naturally secreting aphrodisiac, broken beyond repair from the way his cock fucks right up to your cervix over and over again, ignoring the fact that you’re shaking in his bruising hold of your body, focused solely on making you feel how upset he is with your display tonight, how he intends to make you his— it culminates in perhaps the best orgasm of his life too. Chest tightening, tail straightening, eyes rolling with his head thrown back, nails digging into the fat of your tummy; fat ropes of seed are sure to follow. Heavy and milky, sticking to your insides with insidious intent, filling you so full of his demon stink that not a single soul alive or dead would even think about approaching you, let alone touching you.

But he’s not done there. He allows you the absolute pleasure of having him milk his fat cock inside of you, until you’re so full of cum that it dribbles out around his girth and drops down to the ruffled sheets below. It’s fine, you won’t be washing them any time soon. And besides, it’s fucking hot getting to watch you squirm on the puddle of white as he unceremoniously drops you back down onto the bed, your chest heaving for air as you smack down to the centre of the bed, bright blushing cheeks shooting arrows into his dead heart.

If it was fate that he was to meet you tonight, then surely fate has decided to damn you too, right? Left you pliant and unaware, submissively offering yourself up to him with your legs spreading on instinct as he gently lowers himself too to match your level. Fate has always been so cruel, hasn’t she? Ever unkind, unfair in the way he instantly pounces back upon you, pinning your wrists above your head as his cock bobs to your pleas for… Well, he can’t quite decipher exactly what you’re begging for. Only that the fat tears that roll down your cheeks turn him on more than anything before, and he needs to fuck some more of em outta ya.

He bets your cunt is all sore from his abuse by now too, huh? Red and puffy, he strokes a finger up and down once before dipping into your sopping wet hole, knuckle deep from how thoroughly he’s fucked you wide open, split you in two on his cock— “Promise,” he almost whines for you, but you thankfully aren’t aware enough to pick up on his desperation. “Promise t’make y’feel good for the rest of your sad little life.” He smiles through his words, face scrunched up in shock and awe at the way you look so pretty when getting ruined from the inside out.

Finger fucking you at the same pace as his thrusts, he’s being all too mean to you, he knows. But you can’t blame him for chasing that high of your cries, fuck, he could probably cum on the spot just from watching you helplessly endure his assault, sniffling and huffing sobs as he buries his finger knuckle deep before introducing another. Curling them at the tail end of his fucks, a dirty chuckle slipping past his lips.

“All mine now,” and he’s being truthful. You traded your soul for this, yeah? A life of solitude and cock, left hungry for his scornful touch, body forever left begging for his abuse. “All fuckin’ mine,” he promises you, for there’s no escaping his strength now that he’s had a taste of your soft body. “If only y’weren’t so fucking cute, if only y’didn’t take abuse so well—”

He hadn’t intended on making you cum three times tonight, content enough simple to play with his newfound toy until he grew bored of your whimpers for more. But he’s nonetheless satisfied when your body struggles to cum again, cute cunt convulsing around the rough pads of his fingers as he helps you ride out another good feeling. Barking laughter down at you when you have trouble catching your breath— have you even been listening to him for the past while? Do you understand what the fuck you’ve done?

Other than destroy any chance of him being content with any other hole in future. Good fucking slut.

He regrets meeting you already.

[sashiavi]

you mentioned about wanting rambles so... im sharing this one with you because u will GET IT... !

breeding with bull Alex... being his cute lil cow girl, the sheer size difference potential ughh could you imagine? he could lift you up by your waist and fuck you doggy style while you still hover mid air </3 PULLING on his big bull horns for stability when he bullies you into a mating press, having his whole body completely encase yours as he bends awkwardly with every thrust; but you can hardly complain with a face full of his tits </3 having him pump ur pussy full every breeding season??? he'd be so affectionate n doting too i bet, parading around with you glued to his hip because he loves to show you off </3

Ughhh you get me so well ♡♡

Cow! And Bull! Hybrids are genuinely one of my absolute favourite things </3 they honestly rival Puppy! Girls n boys so hArd it's so hard to choose between them sometimes.

And ughh being Alex's pretty Cow - it's everything I love, things like heats and cycles Lactation! ! !

It's such a guilty pleasure of mine you don't even know (or you do >v>)

Poor pretty tits aching so baddd, nipples so sensitive while he gently laps at them to soothe, he knows he shouldn't be so greedy, he feeds you sooo well and pampers you sweetly to ensure your milk is the best quality for him to sell on the farm- but how could he?? Not when you taste so good and look so pretty while he does it <//3

And the comforting aura he'd bring - so strong and dominant :(( getting you all comfy on his cock, cuddle fucking you while he gently suckles on your tits, swallowing down your sweet milks. He'll break away for a few moments just to praise and shush you, his hands always petting and caressing, even bumping the cute little buds on your head you call horns.

He can go absolutely crazy on your scent but also has such a grip on himself and knows when it's your special time :((

Something about him being sooo dominant over everything with you - breeding you up, fucking you deep but also when he's being so, so soft.

[renaissanceramblings]

Scenario: Sirrius catches Sydney and PC in the act but they're too close to stop. Sydney is hiding his face in PCs shoulder but his hips havent even slowed.

love this (also long time no see lol)

MDNI

Sydney X Gn! Reader

Sydney is a godly being, in your eyes. His body toned and soft pulls in and out of you, thrusting just right and hitting all of your best spots. His mouth whispers curses and prayers alike into the shell of your ear and his teeth occasionally find themselves grazing your neck amongst it all.

His cock fills you like nothing else and you wonder if maybe the temple was right, because the two of you press so close together that it’s almost as though you are one. You join together in an unholy union so holy that you cannot help but think that heaven has found a place amongst the mortals, in whispered passions and unions of the flesh.

“Ffffuck, angel…t-taking me so—aah—well,” His voice is a breathy whimper against you and he can feel you clench hard around him in response.

His grip on your hips is tight as he fucks your hole with ever increasing fervor. His fat head presses into the place that makes you see stars and a broken pleasured sob tears its way out of your throat.

Perhaps you were too loud, or the bed was thumping too hard, or maybe it was just plain bad luck, but you’re crying out and coming hard around Sydney’s cock right as Sirris walks in.

And Sirris freezes because this is his house and how else is he supposed to react and oh my fucking god you guys aren’t stopping. Whatever broken sense of morality your science professor has starts crossing the line when he sees his kid fucking another one of his students, but Sirris can’t seem to move and his voice is stuck in his throat because you’re whimpering in humiliation and Syd has his face buried in the crook of your neck from the embarrassment but his hips are still moving and his arms move to wrap around your waist to pull you onto him harder.

“S-Sirrrrris, (you’re fucked dumb and it’s obvious to everyone in the room) give us’a min—fuck fuck fuck don’t stop—minute, ‘kay?”

Where you got the audacity to talk to Sydney’s dad (and your science instructor, you remember belatedly) like that is a mystery, but your mind is empty and all you can think of is Sydney. His hair tickling the back of your neck and the vice-like grip he has on your waist and his cock filling you up so so good and then he thrusts upward and suddenly you aren’t thinking at all.

Sydney and Sirris are very obviously father and son, but the way they both look at your fucked-dumb face only proves it more.

Sydney can’t take it anymore and cums right there on the spot, painting your insides warm and white while his dad stands right there.

And then, in a hazy post orgasm-bliss, you both realize that he is still standing there.

“Dad?” A weak and embarrassed mumble. You’d never know he was fucking you stupid a moment before by his tone of voice.

“Um…” A tense anticipation mixed with fearful anxiety fills the room.

“I…I brought snacks, if you guys want them.”

[autumnywinter]

Filthy Desires - Harper x Reader

TW: Obsessive behavior, doctor/patient relationship, past dubious consent, abusive power dynamics, mentions of hypnosis, male Harper

NSFW! MDNI

Reader is gender neutral + AFAB

You don't know how long you had been here, and you were sure Harper and the rest of the nurses purposefully kept that information from you. Longer than a month, surely. Long enough for the other patients to call you "Harper's bitch", that was for sure.

As offended as you were by the crude nickname they had given you, it was still undeniably true. Harper controlled almost every aspect of your life. Sure, he essentially controlled all the patients' lives as long as they were in his ward, but you were a different case. You got a certain kind of privilege (that's what Harper called it, at least) not afforded to any patient. Your room was always the closest to his office, meaning he could just "stop in and check in on" you any time of any day.

Sometimes, it was a simple chat. He'd ask you how you were, give you a quick peck on the lips, and leave.

Other times, it was more serious sessions. Sessions that went on for far too long and made you extremely exhausted for days afterwards. He hypnotized you into being complacent, dumb, and forgetful, but you knew fully well what he had been doing to you. There were moments he didn't even bother going through hypnosis first. Those times he was obviously more pent up and frustrated, which used to be rare, but now it seemed like he got like that at least once a week.

Occasionally you enjoyed his attention and praise, but the toll it took on you to please him had gotten so mentally taxing that there were days you considered trying to break out or notify the outside world. Unfortunately for you, Harper never let patients use outside technology like cellphones.

As humiliating and invasive as the daily routine was for you, he also showered you with attention you never got outside of the hospital.

"Time for your session," a nurse calmly notified you.

You nodded and walked your normal route to Harper's office. You've memorized the way after having to go there so many times each and every day. Harper sat behind his large oak desk, reading a file on another patient.

"Y/N," Harper greeted. His piercing pink eyes peeked out over the rim of his glasses. He had his straight blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it from falling into his face while he's working. He raised his hand in the air and made a gesture for the nurse to leave. Once the nurse shut the door behind him, Harper spoke again. "Come sit."

Obedient as ever, you quickly sat yourself on Harper's lap. It had became your usual spot at this point.

Harper peppered gentle, loving kisses along your cheek, jaw, neck, and lips. It was hard to understand anything about the doctor, but one thing he made obvious was he loved kissing you.

When he pulled back, he ran his hand through your hair affectionately. His hand traveled down your torso, rubbing and touching at whatever pleased him. He pressed sloppy wet kisses over your neck and ground his knee against your clothed cunt. You keened and leaned into him, grinding down on his leg in hopes of stimulation. He chuckled darkly, always amused with how needy and desperate you got so quickly.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked in between pecks along your collarbone.

You shook your head.

Harper trailed his finger lightly along your side. "It's your birthday."

For just a split second, you felt happy. But then you put together how long that meant you had been here. Your face fell. Harper hummed, noticing your shift in attitude. His warm, broad hands skimmed over your stomach.

"We've been doing such good work recently, haven't we?" he said, ignoring your sudden dejectedness. Harper was good at shifting topics subtly. You hummed quietly in affirmation. "Then tonight," Harper tilted your jaw so you'd make eye contact with him. "I can give you a special treat for your birthday." He kissed your nose.

"Okay, Doctor Harper," you whispered, leaning into his hold. His strong hands pressed into your sides, encouraging you to keep grinding against his leg. You weren't getting any real stimulation that way, but he loved hearing your whimpers and moans regardless.

You gripped onto the doctor's broad shoulders and arched your back, rolling your hips. Harper watched you with an intent expression on his face.

"What do you want for your special treat, darling?"

"Uh..." Your breathing was getting heavy and he could tell how frustrated you were getting not being able to come from humping his leg. Harper let a hand trail along your torso, stopping to rub your labia through the standard hospital attire you were expected to wear. Your hips shuddered at the indirect touch and a squeaky moan escaped your lips.

"Be descriptive. I can't give it to you if I don't know what you want." Harper rubbed your core faster, encouraged by the high pitched noises and half-formed words coming out of you.

"I-I don't know," you shakily admitted. You just wanted to cum, it didn't matter how at this point.

Harper raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Then would you like to figure it out on my desk?" He didn't even wait for an answer, next thing you knew, he had hoisted you up with a shocking amount of strength. He sat you on the cold wood and made a place for himself by parting your legs open. "So cute, you're soaking already," Harper muttered to himself. He rubbed the dampened fabric between your legs, cooing when you jerked and let out a satisfied gasp.

"Doctor," you whined.

Just as Harper planned on removing your underwear, there was a knock on the door. His usual composed expression was gone, only for a second. He stood up straight to smooth down his hair and fix his tie. "Under the desk."

His tone was soft but stern. You crawled under, sitting on the floor comfortably in between Harper's legs. Harper seated himself in his comfortable, office chair and pulled it in so you would have just enough room.

"Come in," he answered, already back to his professional voice. You sat in the dark beneath the desk and listened to the nurse come in, talking about something related to the medication being stocked low again.

They began exchanging words back and forth, but your mind wasn't on that. It was rather on the obvious sight of his cock straining in his pants right in front of your face. You looked up for any acknowledgement from Harper, but his attention was focused on the nurse.

Without any sense of urgency, your hands slowly trailed up his legs. Harper didn't bat an eye. You played with the buckle, undoing and sliding the belt off. Your fingertips skimmed along his trousers, feeling the shape of his cock with a gentle press and rub. A small sigh left his lips.

Unzipping the zipper, you reached your hand into his trousers and pulled his underwear down just enough to give yourself some freedom to work with. His erection stood tall against his abdomen. Harper glanced down at you momentarily, meeting your eyes right as you were bringing your lips onto the tip of his cock.

His fingers tensed against his pen in his hand but he said nothing.

"Doctor Harper?" The nurse was worried about his sudden shift in focus, which prompted his gaze away from you. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine," Harper answered a bit too quickly. His face was lightly flushed pink and he was trying his best to not give himself away. You enjoyed how swiftly he could lose his composure.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took in the head of his cock, rolling your tongue around to tease the head.

"Are you sure?" the nurse pushed further. You wrapped your lips around Harper and swallowed his cock deeper, inch by inch. A jagged inhale sounded through the office. "Should I go get you a coffee or some water? You don't look very well."

Harper coughed. "That's unnecessary. I- ah -just get back to work. Please. I-I'm busy. Very busy."

As much as you could get annoyed with him, he was cute stuttering like a mess above you. It wasn't a common sight, so naturally you'd want to take advantage of it. You took a slow, teasing drag up his length, stopping just as the tip left your lips. Harper was used to you being needier and greedy by now. Something as simple as a painfully slow blow job threw him for a loop. His hips jerked for the feeling of your hot mouth to be back on him, which you complied.

Once he was sure the door shut behind the nurse, Harper put down his pen, rolled his chair in further, and bucked into your mouth without warning. You sputtered from the intrusion of your throat being filled.

He wrapped his lithe fingers into your hair, holding you in place. Your throat swallowed around the thick length, and Harper shivered from the pleasant feeling. He was frantic to chase his release.

With a shuddering breath, he bucked into you a final time and came, keeping your head pushed down as he did. He looked down at you with a proud gaze. "Make sure to swallow, dear. It's good for you." He freed you from under his desk, still panting. He caressed your cheek once you resurfaced and kissed over your sensitive lips. "Good job."

"It was supposed to be my birthday, and here I was pleasing you," you grumbled.

Harper didn't seem to mind your pouting at all. He glanced at the clock in the top right of the room. "Don't worry, darling, you still didn't tell me what you want for your birthday." Harper's fingers brushed through your hair, straightening any stray hairs and loose strands. "I'm afraid we don't have any more time now, but I could pay you a visit tonight. Would that make you happy?"

Happy wasn't exactly the emotion you'd associate with Harper visiting your room late at night. Yet you nodded. "Can I have some birthday cake, too?" You couldn't recall the last time you had sweets like that. The hospital's version of sweets were fruit cups and yogurt. Harper must've noticed how excited you were at the simple mention of a cake since he smiled, a toothy and genuine smile. You found it a bit hard to believe that Doctor Harper of all people could do such a thing.

"I'll see what I can do."

[mellowwillowy]

Yandere Reader × DOL

Warning: Extreme Content, unsafe sex, Crazy Reader

Bailey - Eden (M), Sydney, Ivory, Whitney, Kylar - Mason, Avery, Harper, Alex, Wren, Great Hawk, Black Wolf, Robin

Bailey's boobs! Eden's boobs! These 2 squeezeing your face! DIE! HAPPILY!1!1!

"What are you doing? I'll be charging you for this." Bailey spat as he watched you sucked his tits, hands groping it like a squishy. Eden on the other hand lets you use his tits as some sort of pillow. Ah... heaven... bless.

Sydney's anal bead, I'll squeeze it down your throat instead of using it as a rosary!

Sydney's hand gripped yours tightly as you used the anal bead inside their throat, fuck, they didn't expect this at all. Please, don't stop. Better yet, use your hand or your cock/strap-on on their throat now!

"Mwooh... mhoreeee....!"

Ivory's Necklace, right, fuck you wanna do if I swallow it whole?

"Get it out..." Ivory throatfucked you as their hands and tentacles choked you, "get it out right now, fuck, get it out!" Actually, you doubt they were throatfucking you to get this shit out. They were just trying fuck their cum out.

Walking Whitney

Whitney and a leash on your hand, no, not a leash to you but to them! Crawling the school hallway naked, how did it feel like to have the table turned now? Oh... look at how turned on they are, "fucking slut, you like people seeing your sex hmm??"

"Shut up..." they growled back but the trail of cum they left said otherwise ♡

Kylar and Mason the undies sniffer

Look at them. You understand if it's Kylar but Mason? Really? Sniffing your undies while you were swimming?

"K-Kylar did it! He did it first!"

"That still doesn't change the fact that you are a teacher. Oh, aren't you a perverted one? Just how down bad are you to the point you are caught sniffing with this," you pulled Kylar by his hoodie, "damn fucking loser who jerks off to my picture?"

"Uuu... you look so cute in that jacket so..."

Avery and alcohol

Fuck, you are sick of them raging at you every now and then. So? What to do? You eyed on the alcohols they got for the two of you and...

Crash

You hit their head with it. Just before they could say anything, you forced the alcohol down their throat, burning it. Just as you noticed they were wasted from the hit and burning sensation, you stripped them down and,

"I think you'll look great with your hole stuffed with this," you showed them a bottle of alcohol, "I don't give a shit about safe sex, feel free to have a check with Harper soon."

Doctor Harper...

Harper groaned as you plunged yet another syringe into their arm, the content? It's empty. Better be empty than fill it in with the drug they would use on you right?

"I bet it feels good, getting injected here and there right you fucker?"

Wren the smuggled

"Ehehe~ look at you~ so adorable in my bag, all tied up hm?"

The smuggler had been smuggled. Fuck, you were so going to enjoy fucking them while charging everyone fortune just to watch you fuck them dumb.

Milking Alex~!

Oh, the farm was growing. Look at it, the milk production got better in both quantity and quality! As expected of Alex! Now, it's time to milk Alex with your mouth and hand again!

Great Hawk the terrored

"Come on now, walking is better than flying right?" Great Hawk whimpered as you handed him his daily food. You caressed his bandaged wings that you broke with your own hands. "Good boy~ now eat, you'll need the energy to mate."

Black Wolf, awooooooo

Black Wolf did so as you fucked him dumb. What a pack leader he is, a great breedable alpha all along.

Robin, burn your fat down.

At this point, they were probably either traumatized or suffered from the masochist traits. Look, look at those marks ♡ how many times have you whipped the fuck out of them? It'll help burning down some of the fat they had.

[snnrinc]

Made for Sin

Minors DNI

• Pairing: Corrupt!M!Sydney x F!Reader

• Excerpt: His eyes were now focused on you and on every expression that you were making, on the way your muscles tensed, how your chest was bouncing in time with his thrusts. His hair had started to fall onto his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He looked so fucking hot when he was like this, ready to devour you, watching intently as your back arched off the bed when he hit a particularly nice spot. The way the twilight sun hit your curves had him under a spell, tracing the outline of your body with his eyes before one of his hands followed the same trail, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"My love," he growled. "You have a body made for sin."

• Warnings: NSFW, overstimulation, creampie, oral (f receiving), slight dubcon. But let's be honest, this is DoL we're talking about, what ISN'T a warning?

• Word count: 5.9k

×

Voices rumbled amidst the large hall, an amalgam of words that fused into each other only to become meaningless, background noise. People shuffled from their seats as the service finished, approaching the exit of the hall while chatting amongst themselves, leaving only a few people to remain seated in the pews, some with their hands clasped together in silent prayer, others simply basking in the silence of the holy temple.

Seated somewhere near the front seats was a young man, fingers intertwined and pressed against his lips, eyes closed in concentration. He was thankful once the commotion died down, hoping to finally be able to focus more on his prayer, but he soon realised that his thoughts were running too wild and simple silence was not enough to bring him peace. On the contrary, the more he kept his eyes closed, the louder his mind got. The more he tried to concentrate on his prayer, the more his thoughts unconsciously morphed into the image of a beautiful person.

The image of you.

Sydney opened his eyes and sighed in frustration. He moved to rest his chin on his clasped hands, opting to distract himself for a while by looking at the various portraits of saints that were decorating the wall in front of him. The paintings were beautiful, golden hand-crafted wood framing them and giving them a regal, almost ethereal look. Normally, he would stare at such brilliance and feel peace and purity radiate from them and settling deep into his soul, soothing his pain and sorrows. But now, a simple glance left him feel cold, disinterested. Disconnected. 

Was it because of you?

Was it you that took the place of the holy images, of the promises of salvation, of all-powerful idols that could tame and purge all that is wrong in the world? Was it you that settled in his heart oh-so-delicately, that now the only idol he could think could bring him peace and salvation, the only idol he could get down on his knees and worship, was you?

Was it you that overtook his mind and stripped him of any sort of dignity or shame he had left, baring all the primal instincts that had been buried so deep inside in a dark corner of his mind?

Oh, but he couldn't care less. Not when he got to be buried so deep inside of-

Sydney let out another sigh at his intrusive thought. This was getting ridiculous. You were the only thing he could think about. You and the things he would do for you, with you, to you.

He couldn't understand why you had such power over him, and frankly, he wasn't sure he needed to understand. But you existing in his life, by his side, shook him to the core in a way he did not know how to manage, his emotions swirling in his mind until he could not tell them apart from each other. He was in love, that was for sure. His heart fluttered whenever you brushed your hand against his, he melted on the spot whenever you planted a small, innocent kiss on his cheek or forehead. And seeing you smile at him, hearing you laugh at one of his jokes, sent him to cloud nine, making him feel like everything was right in the world when you were together.

But... his heart was not the only one affected. In his mind he would always envision you during these sweet moments, under him, your hand grasping his and holding onto it tight as you writhed beneath him, chanting an almost delirious chain of 'I love you, I love you, I love you', bodies tangled and so lost into each other that he didn't know where he ended and you began, as he claimed you as his beloved again, and again, and again. And you always looked so beautiful, warm, like the sun was caressing his skin with every touch of your fingers, like flower petals dragged over his most sensitive spots whenever you kissed him, like you and him were the only people to exist in the world.

He could no longer tell love and lust apart. Was this even lust? Was it adoration? Was it wrong for him to feel so strongly for you, so much so that you were more important to him than his vows?

Sydney let his hands fall into his lap, taking in a shaky breath to try to calm down his racing thoughts and pounding heart. He could feel the start of a headache pulsating painfully as he brought his fingers to his temples to massage them, allowing himself a moment of quiet before his thoughts slipped again.

Why did it even matter that his vows were broken? You did this to him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He was happy to finally not be a sheltered, innocent little boy anymore. You showed him how beautiful sin could be, how good it could feel, but you also showed him how ugly the reality of the world was. The lives you two led were vastly different, and for a second Sydney allowed himself to shoot an angry, flaming look at the paintings in front of him, almost as if admonishing the Heavens for putting you through all the pain and suffering you had to endure. He almost couldn't believe himself, but at that moment he felt that all his prayers and desperate pleas for salvation were falling on deaf ears.

But you always heard him.

And he was glad to return the favour, always happy to let you use him when you reached your breaking point, always willing to welcome you in his arms and keep you safe, away from anything and anyone who may cause you harm. His heart was breaking every time you'd reach out with a shaky hand, your tearful eyes staring into his own, desperate, pleading, silently asking him why? Why you? Why always you?

The image made his heart clench, his eyes closing and brows furrowing before a gentle touch on his shoulder made his eyes snap open again. He looked to his side wide-eyed, almost as if he was scared he was saying his innermost thoughts out loud, but his expression quickly softened when he saw your smiling face next to him, giving him a little wave and a gentle 'hi'.

He smiled softly. "My love."

He scooted over to make space for you to sit down. Once you settled in your place, Sydney took your hand in his and kissed your cheek, smiling wide at your loving expression.

"I missed you," he said, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You giggled. "So soon? But we're already spending most of our time together at school. We see each other so often!"

"If I don't spend every moment with you, it's not nearly often enough."

You felt your cheeks warm up as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing them against your knuckles softly while staring deeply into your eyes. At the intensity of his gaze, your eyes shifted away for a split second before returning to his, earning a knowing smirk from your boyfriend. Fuelled by your reaction, he tugged your hand a bit higher so his lips had more access, leaving a trail of kisses up your forearm, his other hand gently grasping your upper arm so he could pull you closer. Just as he reached your inner elbow, he was stopped by your louder than intended exclamation:

"I brought food!"

Gasping at the realisation of your volume, you looked around to see if anyone noticed and sighed in relief when you saw the other churchgoers focused on their prayers. You looked back at Sydney who was now just affectionately rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, looking at you with a soft expression. It was only now that he noticed you brought a bag with you.

"I brought food," you repeated, quieter this time. "I know you've been working really hard and I'm willing to bet you haven't eaten anything today."

A sheepish smile crept on his face. "Please don't be too mad at me, love."

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment and you gave him a stern look. "Sydney!" you clicked your tongue. "I told you you need to take care of yourself more! At this rate, you'll pass out in the middle of the temple at any moment."

Sydney let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and burying his face into your neck. "I know, darling, I'm sorry for making you worry. I promise I'll be good and eat what you brought for me."

"Yeah right," you scoffed. "Just like you did yesterday, when you said you'd eat the homemade pie I made for you just so I could find it today, in the same place, with only one bite taken out of it?"

Sydney squeezed you a little tighter in an attempt to make you soften and stop your scolding.

"Or like on Monday, when I brought you some sandwiches and you said you'll keep them for later only to forget about them," you continued. "I found them in your drawer at the library counter. Mouldy." 

You crossed your arms over your chest and moved to look at Sydney. He looked up at you with doe eyes and pouted, detaching himself from you and twiddling his fingers.

You raised an eyebrow at him, expectantly. He sighed in defeat.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, okay? Please stop looking so mad," he reached out and grasped your hand. "I promise I'll eat whatever you prepared this time. Just give me the bag and I'll-"

"Oh, no, not today," you pulled your hand out from his and stood up, gathering your stuff and the bag with Sydney's food in the process. "Today we'll eat together. It seems there's no other way to convince you to eat more than just the amount needed to stay alive than to feed you myself."

Your words stirred something in him. He looked up at you teasingly as his lips stretched into a smirk.

"Oh, so that was your plan all along, huh? Not just because you care about me?" he chuckled when you snapped your attention to him, furrowing your brows.

"Don't get cocky, love. I'm still mad at you."

With a chuckle, he stood up and grabbed your hand. He offered to carry the bag for you before leading you outside of the hall.

×

Your giggles resonated in the kitchen when Sydney kept tickling your shoulder with his hair as he kissed your neck. 

"Stop it!" your tone meant to be serious, but you couldn't force the smile off your face. He giggled as you almost dropped the ingredients you were setting up from squirming so much. "Sydney, come on!"

"I'm sorry, I just can't resist kissing you."

As he let go of you, you turned around to smile at him sweetly. Your eyes admired his golden ones for a few moments before travelling down to his white shirt, the first three buttons open and allowing a glimpse of the chain of his holy pendant.

"You should change your shirt if you want to help," you said, turning your attention to preparing the ingredients once more. "It'll get dirty."

"Oh? Should I take it off then?"

"I'm just saying it's a nice shirt. I don't want to ruin it."

"I do," you threw him a look and he giggled. "I'll take care of laundry then. I'll give you some spare clothes."

"Oh, you don't have to, really! I'll just go home and wash them."

"Oh..."

At the sound of his disappointed tone, you looked over your shoulder to see him leaning on the table, his stance deflated. You saw his bottom lip come out slightly in a pout.

You turned towards him. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing, I was just..." he looked back at you. "I was hoping you could spend the night."

His doe eyes brought a warm smile to your face. You wiped your hands on a towel and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pecking his nose. Your actions made him smile and hug you close to him. Leaning forward, you pecked his nose again, before planting a quick kiss over his lips and moving to look at him. His expression suddenly changed, half-lidded, hazy eyes looking at you as if in a trance. You could feel it, too - the way the air around got thicker and you had to let out heavy breaths, lest you suffocate. One of his hands moved up to remove his glasses and place them somewhere on the table behind him, his other hand reaching up to rest on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek before he leaned in, placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. You didn't hesitate to respond, pressing yourself against his body and parting your lips out of habit, demanding more of him.

He was more than happy to deliver.

Sliding his tongue past your burning lips, the hand that was caressing you moved to the back of your head, grasping your hair and pulling softly to get better access to your mouth. You moved in unison, your hands moving up and down his back before one of them settled in his hair. His other hand slid down your side to grasp your ass, earning a soft moan in return. Fuelled by the sounds you made, he pushed forward, making your back hit the edge of the counter on which you were working a few minutes ago. You felt his hands leave you for a second to find purchase on the back of your thighs, hiking you onto the counter. You suddenly remembered what you were there for.

"Mmh, Syd-" you tried to speak, but his lips wouldn't let you. "Syd, we-" kiss, "we were..." kiss, "we're supposed to-" kiss, "be cooking..." kiss.

"Later."

"No," you gently placed your hands on his chest and pushed him enough to get his attention. "You've already had nothing to eat today. You promised."

Seeing your frowning face made him detach himself from you, leaving only his hands to hold onto your thighs. You could see his apologetic expression and you didn't want him to feel bad, so instead you pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek sweetly. He took advantage of your closeness to hold onto you tight.

"Please..." he whispered against your ear. "I missed you."

His needy voice made you shudder. You'd be lying if you said that hours upon hours of gentle kisses, fleeting touches and stolen glances at each other didn't rile you up to the point that everything the man in front of you was doing or saying was sending electricity throughout your veins, right down to your core. With how desperately he was clinging to you and how fast his heart was beating, he must've been starving, the poor sweetheart, starving for your touch, your attention, for your soft voice whispering to him, for your love. He was starving for you. And how could you deny him when you were there to take care of him in the first place?

A shaky sigh found its way out of your throat when you opened your mouth to speak. "Sydney..."

"Fuck-"

Before either of you could say anything else, his lips were on you again, hands undoing your apron and pulling at your clothes, grasping and caressing any part of you that he could reach. You unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his shoulders, urging him to discard it to the ground as you ran your hands over his arms and chest. A moan vibrated in his throat at the feeling of your palms on his bare skin and your hot body pressed into his, the sound pouring over into you and filling your lungs until you were drowning in him. You never thought loving someone could feel this intense.

As much as you loved making out with Sydney on every surface available, you knew that sooner or later the counter would get uncomfortable, and you didn't want your time in heaven to end so soon because of such inconvenience. So you gently buried your fingers in Sydney's hair, pulling him away slightly to finally catch your breath and his attention.

"Sydney, take me to bed. Now."

Nodding quickly, the man made sure your legs were tightly locked around his waist before he grabbed your ass and lifted you from the counter, blindly walking towards his bedroom as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. Reaching his room, Sydney turned to face the opposite way and kicked the door he left ajar fully open, walking backwards into his room to make sure it doesn't swing shut and hurt you. He had half a mind to leave the door as it is and just take you as soon as possible, but eventually made sure to close it and lock it quickly, just in case Sirris would come home early. As he took a few more hurried steps into his room, one of his arms slid up your back to rest on the nape of your neck, giving you one last kiss before carefully lowering you on the bed as if you were a treasure he was scared to break. Once you were comfortably settled, Sydney hovered over you, watching, scanning over your entire body, the way you were sprawled out on his bed, looking up at him with such lustful eyes. His scrutinising gaze made you feel as if you already were completely bare in front of him, completely at his mercy.

"Syd," under the pressure, you broke the silence, his eyes shifting to yours. His stare was intense, focused, and the corner of his lip lifted in a smirk.

"Finally, I have you all to myself," his hands found their way to your sides, rubbing up and down. "You look so good in my bed, darling."

You whined at his words and he let out a shaky breath at the sound. His hands found their way under your shirt, lifting it up to reveal your plain bra. You sat up, helping him fully remove your top and bra, leaving your upper half bare for him to see. Under his fiery gaze, you almost felt the urge to cover yourself out of embarrassment , but you had no time to even think about it before his hands were on you, pushing you back onto the bed and burying his face into your soft flesh. His mouth found one of your nipples and his tongue circled it, licking, sucking, biting as his hand was on your other breast.

With a moan, your hands found purchase in his hair and back. You could feel the hot skin of his chest pressed against your abdomen and the closeness was driving you mad. You felt his tongue give you one last lick before he moved his mouth under your breast, biting softly on the flesh and leaving a mark.

Your legs moved up, thighs pressing to the sides of his waist as he looked up at you with hungry eyes. He pressed his tongue near the top of your stomach and dragged it upwards, stopping between your breasts and watching as you bit your lip and tried not to whine at the feeling. He smiled and chuckled at the sight, leaning forward to capture your lips into a passionate kiss.

His body was pressed flush against yours, hands moving up and down your abdomen and chest, grazing your nipples and grabbing at the softness of your flesh. It was driving him wild, feeling your hot skin stuck to his, a thin layer of sweat already adorning your body. He could feel your moans vibrating against his lips and chest, and he didn't think he could get any harder, but he already felt like he would burst any second. And yet, he needed more.

One of his hands failed to return upwards as he was caressing you, instead dipping beneath the fabric of your trousers, pulling them down along with your panties in a firm and swift movement. You felt his lower half raise slightly from you, your hips following his movement to allow him to remove the garments entirely, before he threw them on the ground carelessly and grabbed hold of your thighs, spreading your legs and lowering his body on you once more. The entire time, his lips refused to leave yours, moving passionately against your mouth, pouring his love into you.

You felt his hand slowly slither lower, fingers finally touching your core, making you yelp from the sudden feeling and dig your nails into his shoulder. His fingers slowly started rubbing circles on your clit for a brief moment, before he dipped his hand lower to run them against your soaking entrance, lubricating them and slowly dragging them back up teasingly. You mewled as he started applying pressure again, his mouth moving to your neck to nip and suck on your skin. Your body felt like it caught fire as his fingers worked you up the way he knew you liked. Your breathing erratic, you let out soft moans shamelessly into his ear, and you could feel his chest reverberating against you with his own groans echoing yours. Moving his hand lower to drag it across your entire core, you let out a particularly loud moan before you pressed your mouth into his shoulder to cover up any other sounds.

He chuckled, a smile pressing against your neck. "Did you like that, darling? Hm?" you felt his teeth graze your skin softly, sending a shiver through your body. You let out a shaky curse. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy... I love hearing you moan for me like that."

You felt his fingers move once again, rubbing against your entrance as his mouth continued to kiss and suck on your skin. Sydney's mouth moved to your shoulder, then your collarbone, then slowly dipped lower towards your breasts.

"I wonder," he spoke between kisses, "what other sounds can your body make?"

You could feel his smile pressed against your skin as he pushed a finger inside, relishing in the lewd sounds of your moans and your soaking heat. Giving you a few pumps, he pushed another finger in before he started fucking you, occasionally flexing his fingers to touch your sweet spot.

You let go of your last shred of shame, moving your hips in time with his hand, chasing your release as his lips moved across your neck. Pressing your mouth on his shoulder, you started to kiss upwards towards his ear before you gently bit his earlobe and moaned at his shiver. Goosebumps spread across his skin and that was enough for him to push another finger into your heat and fuck you with renewed vigor, rubbing his thumb on your clit. You were practically dripping, and he loved the wet, sloppy sounds that your sex was making from him toying with you. He loved having such an effect on you.

With a gasp and quickly getting closer to your release, you managed to snake your hand in between your bodies and past the band of his pants to grab his length and pump it. Breathing quickened, you felt your muscles tense before the coil in your stomach snapped, your walls clenching around his fingers and your hand pulling at his soft strands of hair, the other absentmindedly rubbing the head of his cock.

"Fu-uck!" his hips sputtered and he let out a high pitch moan. "N-not yet."

As you were coming down from your high, you looked up at him with a hazy vision. He retreated his hand from your heat in favour of ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, then grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them towards your chest, standing up so he could look at the mess he made out of you with eyes that were almost glowing.

You couldn't help but stare. The soft rays from the setting sun were hitting the side of his face and almost making him look like he was donning a halo. His eyes looked like pools of honey and his bare chest was rising up and down, glowing from the sweat beads adorning his skin. As disgusting as you would've thought it would sound - had you not been high on lust - in that moment, you felt the inherent need to have your tongue on his skin, if only to feel his pulse quicken and the shivers of his flesh in time with his moans.

When you looked back at his eyes, you could see him gaze at you with the same unbridled hunger. You felt the tip of his shaft rub against your slit and his eyes started to lose focus. Slowly, he pushed forward into your heat, eyes rolling to the back of his head as both of you let out sinful sounds from the way his sex was stretching you oh-so-deliciously.

It wasn't long before he set a steady pace, snapping his hips toward you to reach deep within your walls so you could feel him fully. Your hands grasped at whatever you could find - bedsheets, your chest, his waist, his forearms, and when you looked up at him you saw his gaze changed again.

You knew you were in trouble.

His eyes were now focused on you and on every expression that you were making, on the way your muscles tensed, how your chest was bouncing in time with his thrusts. His hair had started to fall onto his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration. He looked so fucking hot when he was like this, ready to devour you, watching intently as your back arched off the bed when he hit a particularly nice spot. The way the twilight sun hit your curves had him under a spell, tracing the outline of your body with his eyes before one of his hands followed the same trail, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"My love," he growled. "You have a body made for sin."

You moaned at his remark and he smirked, lifting one of your legs up so he could reach even deeper within you and rub continuously at the spot that was sending wave after wave of shivers down your body. And fuck- the way his abs flexed as he was pounding into you, the way his hands gripped the meat of your hips so hard it was leaving marks to help you meet his thrusts, the way his holy pendant was swinging and hitting his chest as he was fucking you relentlessly, it was overwhelming in the most carnal way and you loved it. Your eyes focused on his pendant for a second longer, a symbol of purity on a backdrop of sin, and you had no idea why it only served to turn you on more.

"So good~" you moaned as your back arched once again. " 'M close, ah! Sydney!"

"Yeah?" his voice was raspy and breathless. "You gonna cum for me, beloved? Oh, yes, please, please give yourself to me!" His thrusts started becoming hastier in an attempt to chase both of your climaxes. His voice was choked and his breathing was becoming more and more erratic, it was like music to your ears. "I want you, I love you! Cum for me, cum on my cock like the good girl that you are."

And then you felt it again, a sudden surge throughout your body as your leg that was not on his shoulder and your hands were fighting to keep him inside you. Your walls clenched around his length and he let out a choked cry, hips stumbling before you felt him fill you up with a few more deep pumps. His body fell on top of you, completely spent, and you felt his hand grasp yours and interlace your fingers.

You were suddenly overcome by a small fit of giggles and he looked up at you from your shoulder, smiling at your beaming face, your eyes closed in bliss.

"That felt good?" he asked.

"Mhmmm."

You snuggled your face in his cheek for a second, giving him sweet pecks, before he turned and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. You hummed in pleasure and let your arm fall around his neck, keeping him close to you and feeling your sore body beginning to relax.

You felt his kisses trail down the column of your neck and on your chest. When you felt him grab your thighs and parting them your eyes snapped open.

"W-wait, Sydney! What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, instead looking at your quivering core and how his cum dripped out of you, down your ass and staining the sheets beneath you. You saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips and you recognised that look.

Now you really were in trouble.

You remembered that day in the temple when he had claimed you as his lover and given himself to you in return. You remembered the ravenous look in his eyes and the smog that turned him wild with lust. This time, you were in the comfort of his bedroom, nowhere near that sacred prayer room, and yet he was gripping your flesh with the same determination and hunger as when you first defiled him.

Lowering his body on the bed, his cock brushed against your leg and you realised he was still hard. You scrambled to push yourself up into a sitting position, stuttering out useless pleads for him to let you rest a bit, one hand on his shoulder to push him away from between your legs. You felt your tired muscles shake and goosebumps overtake your skin when he looked up at you from under his lashes, a wicked smile spreading on his beautiful lips before his arms pulled your body towards him roughly, forcing you to fall back onto the bed.

"I don't think you understand, lover," he spoke, tone dangerously laced with honey. "I'm not done with you yet. And I won't be until I make sure you're thoroughly fucked into this mattress and forget how to even speak."

His arms were holding your legs locked across his shoulders, one arm spread across your stomach, effectively holding you in place and leaving no chance of escape. You tried to close your thighs on his head and pull on his hair, hoping the pressure and pain will push him away, but it only earned you a lewd moan from the man before he chuckled darkly.

"You really think that's gonna stop me?" he gave your clit a kiss and you gasped at the sensation. "No chance, lover. So go ahead, be as rough as you need to be, take anything you want from me and fucking use me."

You let out a choked moan when his tongue dragged over your overstimulated folds, his hands kneading your thighs and keeping you from pulling away. It was futile to fight it and you knew it, mind and body torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His tongue lapping and sucking at your core had you seeing stars, his groans vibrating on your sex and before you knew it, it felt like the entire world was spinning. Your jumbled thoughts could not be put into words, and anything coming out of your mouth were either sinful moans or praise and pleads, an incoherent string of "fuck, Syd, please, 's too much!" and "there, yes, oh fuck, right there, so good!"

Sydney was just as far gone as you were, drinking in all the sounds that you were making and lapping at the mess that you both made, a sense of pride swelling in his chest knowing how he was the only one who could do this to you. The only one who could defile you and who could be defiled by you. He loved you. He needed you. He needed more.

His tongue circled your entrance a few times before plunging in you, his thumb from the hand he had spread on your stomach lowering to rub your clit and you let out a sob from the overwhelming feeling. The way his arm was holding your hips down made it impossible for you to thrash around, sweat dripping down your body and breathing laboured.

Before you knew it, you came with a shout of his name and pulled at his hair. He moaned, but refused to stop, and from the way the shivers kept cascading down your body and your muscles ached, you felt like you were about to pass out. You were now a puddle in his hands, speaking in tongues, and you had no more power in your arms to fight, only to pull at his strands mindlessly.

He reached out with his other hand, groaning like man drunk on lust, and replaced his tongue with his fingers, his mouth now on your clit as his hips snapped against the mattress searching for relief. You couldn't even tell if you just came again or if you had a prolonged orgasm, brain mush and body ablaze with heat. The world was melting and the only thing you felt was your lover leaving his mark on your body with his.

You were radiating, and he was drinking you in like you were an oasis in the middle of the desert, basking in your light, your sounds, your smell, your heat. Soon, his hips started slowing down as he spilled his load on the bedsheets, the flame within his body only now relenting and allowing him to take a deep breath and relax his tense muscles.

Using his last bits of energy, he slowly detached himself from you and pushed himself up towards you, falling into the comfort of his pillows. Sydney took a mental note to change his bedding as soon as he regained his strength, but when he glanced up at you, his brain stopped functioning again. Your eyes were closed, swollen lips parted slightly as you caught your breath, your eyelashes gently brushing against your blushing cheeks as a few strands of hair fell down your face.

He thought you looked gorgeous.

Sydney reached out, gently brushing your messy hair behind your ear before he snaked his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, murmuring sweet words of praise and love. His fingers started massaging your scalp and you melted in his embrace, welcoming his touch once again.

Sydney worshipped you. You were the light of his life, the idol he venerated, the only one who could put his heart in a chokehold, and with you snuggled in his arms, safe and sound, he knew what true happiness meant. True salvation, devoid of the teachings of the temple. And as he held you close to his heart, he realised something.

His God was dead. You killed Him. And with no one else left to save you two, he'd make sure you save each other.

[woundedoves]

11 prompt with male/gn Eden from DoL and gn reader, please? 🥺🥺

M!Eden x Bottom GN!Reader + Clothed Sex

a/n: anon omfg idk if a divine being just didnt want me to publish this but while i was writing this someone logged into my e mail from a game i didnt even know i played??? fuckin call of duty??? like??? i had to do so much just to delete that damn account and unlink it and then had to change so many passwords and THEN i almost forgot to save this and had a mini heart attack but… we up

warnings: rough sex… its eden so ofc

You feel him growl against your neck as he pounds his fat cock into your ass with as much force as he can muster, the sounds he’s making sounds animalistic compared to your own weak whimpers as he completely fucks you like a fucktoy. He didn’t even wait for you to undress when he burst through the door after a hunt. Instead hoisting you from your arms, ripping your jeans off of your body and fucking into you like an animal in heat.

Even his own pants aren’t completely off. He only unzipped to take his cock out. You whine pathetically as you feel your insides burn from his cock’s assault, his cockhead abusing your sweet spot so much that there’s no pleasure left in it anymore. You only notice you’ve been crying when his calloused hands grip your chin and he bites your cheek, licking the mark and your tears afterwards.

You shiver as the metal on his belt digs into your sore ass when he stops thrusting and starts to just lower you onto his cock to take all of him. The rough texture of his jeans burn against your skin, making you groan. You hear him breath harshly as his cock starts to throb against your abused sweet spot, your arms are limp as is the case for your whole body while you let yourself drown in the harsh pounding he’s giving you.

You hear him growl again as your whole body stills when he slams your ass onto his dick and pumps you full of his load, not pulling out until his cock stops its spasms. Your hole quivers as your sex throbs painfully when you cum at the same time, trying to steady your breath as you feel his cum leak out of your ass, onto his cock and slowly onto his clothes.

You just know he’s not gonna wash that.

[propertyofwhitney67]

This one's simpler compared to the rest of your prompt masterlist but can I request Whitney + Breeding with a reader who is Kylar's sister? Thx <3

I love you too...

M!Whitney x Kylar's AFAB!Reader sister

Prompt Event: Breeding

Words: 838

Tw: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie

Note: Are these words/terms cool with the youth? They sound so weird to me, I guess that's because I never use them.

“You live like this?” Whitney asked, genuinely surprised at the state of the manor. “It’s like a fucking disaster zone in here.” It really is a mess, with trash and debris everywhere. “And what is that smell?” 

I grabbed Whitney’s hand, pulling him away from my brother’s lab. “It’s uh…one of Kylar’s projects.” I tried to explain away the strong peppery chemical smell. Which reminds me, I need to get on Kylar about cleaning that up.

He didn’t fight my tugging, letting me lead him to my room. “Can’t believe the two of you are related.” Whitney grumbled, mostly to himself. He’s always found it hard to believe Kylar and I are related, something about Kylar being such a freak and me being an obedient slut. Loud sounds came from my parent's room as we passed, “What the fuck is that sound?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push the matter as I dragged him past their room. I flinched as the sounds continued, I didn’t like thinking about what they were now. Those aren’t my parents, not anymore. 

Whitney raised a brow in a teasing manner upon seeing my decorated bedroom door, “I didn’t know you were such a girly girl, slut.” I rolled my eyes, opening my door revealing a clean room. Whitney whistled lowly, “Not what I expect in a place like this.” It was a far cry from the rest of the manor.

I hopped down on my bed, ruffling the perfectly made sheets. “I like to keep it nice.” The room was pink and girly with decorated walls, a clean floor, a cute gaming setup, a big bed, and a neat closet. “It’s my safe place in this shithole.” I explained with a smile, proud of how my room looked.

He pushed me back on the bed, “I don’t care about that.” He groped my chest through my shirt and flipped my short skirt up, revealing my bare cunt. “Good girl, following the rules.” He smiled, tracing my slit. 

I gasped at his touch, instinctively raising my hips to meet his touch. “Whitney…” He grabbed my hips, holding me down. “Please…”

Whitney smirked down at me, “Have you been good enough to deserve a reward?” He asked condescendingly, bunching my skirt up at my waist and fondling my pubic bone. Taking care to not slip any lower, wanting to make me beg for it.

I nodded, whining. “Yes.” I wiggled my hips, wanting him to touch me more. “Please, Whitney…” 

He chuckled, cock forming a tent in his pants. He loved watching me beg, “Well since you asked so nicely.” Wasting no time, he ripped my clothes off and tossed them to the side. I sat up on my knees and palmed his cock through his pants, “Mhh I picked the right slut.” He smirked down at me, letting me play with his cock for a few moments.

Once his precum formed a wet spot on his pants, he pushed me back down onto the bed. I giggled as he undressed, “I love you.” I said absentmindedly, it wasn’t the first time I’ve said it. I really do love him, I’d do anything for him.

A blush formed on his face as he grumbled, “Fucking hate you…” He always got embarrassed when I said that to him. I know he loves me too, he’ll just never admit it. He’s not good at expressing any other emotion besides anger.

I smiled as he climbed on top of me, “Sure you do.” His hard cock rubbed against my thigh, smearing precum on my leg. I raked my nails down his chest, leaving behind a red trail.

“Shut up.” Whitney grumbled, bringing his thick cock to my entrance and spearing his precum against my folds. He groped and fondled my tits are he rubbed his cock against my entrance. “I should-” He grunted as I angled my hips, his tip almost slipping inside. “Fucking slut.” He pulled back slightly, rubbing against my fold again. “So fucking impatient.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, bringing him even close. The tip of his cock now rubbing against my clit, “Breed me, Whitney.”

Those words must have unlocked something in him because he didn’t hesitate in roughly thrusting into my tight hole, “You want me to breed you?” His pace was brutal with fast and deep thrusts, “Fine, I’ll breed you.” I moaned, his fat cock hitting that perfect spot every time. 

Whitney groaned into my ear as my walls tightened around his cock, “Can’t wait to see pregnant, stomach round and tits fat.” I turned my head, giving him access to my neck. He bit down hard, surly leaving behind marks.

He easily pulled multiple orgasms from me, making sure to paint my walls with his cum every time. Thoroughly exhausted, Whitney collapsed on my heaving chest and wrapped his arms around my waist. I raked my hands through his hair, “I love you.”

“I love you too…”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[yaekiss]

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Male! Sub! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms for reader, jerking Sydney off in a cinema, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This has been on my mind for so long, ugh the grip Sydney has on my mind is maddening. Might also do a corrupted Sydney version after this who knows teehee :3c

It was meant to be something relaxing. At least that's what Sydney had in mind when he agreed to a movie date with you at the cinema.

It's been a while since he's seen one so he thought that it'd be fun to watch one together. (He was even the one who suggested watching the newest romance movie after hearing about it from Robin.)

So how did it ever end up like this?

Maybe he should've paid more attention to Robin talking about the movie because when the beginning of a sex scene starts to play on the screen, he flushes instantly, hands shooting up and shielding his face to prevent him from seeing the lewdness on display.

His sudden actions catch your eye and you turn to take in the delicious view of your lover trying to tune out the raunchy moans from the actors, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed so cutely that you just want to eat him up ♡

Your hand finds its way over to the edge of his pants, pulling the band before letting it go, snapping against his skin. A squeak escapes him as his eyes fly open, surprised by your actions.

"W-what are you doing?" Sydney's voice is shaky, volume slightly above a whisper.

"I'm just helping distract you from the movie, angel. Now quieten down, you wouldn't want the people to realise, would you?"

Worried, he surveys the other cinemagoers around the both of you and breaths a sigh of relief when no one else heard the squeak he let out. Turning back to face you, he notices the hunger in your eyes and the blush on his cheeks deepen.

His hands are still held up in front of him so you take the opportunity to slip your fingers past his waistband, teasing at the rim of his boxers. The sensation of your fingers on the skin of his hips has him quivering but he makes no move to stop you from taking this even further. You press on, dipping into his boxers and when you come into contact with his already half-hard cock, he jolts in his seat, biting down on his lip to muffle any noises from him.

Leaning closer, you take his cock into your hand, gradually stroking him until he's hard and dripping. His self-restraint wavers when your nails glide across his slit, hips bucking up with a sharp gasp. Alarmed, his eyes dart around the surroundings, heart jackrabbiting in his chest at the prospect at getting caught. Working him up to his orgasm, he's squirming in his seat, moving one of his hands down to bite down on to stifle his moans as he loses himself in the pleasure you're showing him.

A harsh tug and a scratch along the underside of his dick is what tips him over the edge, he doubles over and his hands immediately shoot to grasp at your wrist so that he can rut into your hand as pure euphoria overtakes him. There's a wet patch growing on the fabric of his pants but he's too caught up in the bliss to notice.

After he rides out his high, he slumps back against the backrest, boneless and panting as he tries to process everything that just happened. Retracting your hand covered in his spend, you hold it before him, expectant. Hesitant, he slowly licks away his cum. He's slightly put off by the taste of his own cum at the start but determined, he carries on until your hand is completely cleaned. Giving your fingers one last suck, he pulls away, face still hot from arousal. As thanks, you grab his face and pull him in for a heated kiss that leaves him melting in his seat, his brain mushy. The only thing he can think of is you, you, you. + + Love

Well, he can't lie, he supposes the movie was relaxing in a way! - - Sydney's Purity

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Ghost Kylar

— ✧ pairing: M!Kylar / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,988 — ✧ warnings: ghost, ghost sex, yandere, brief depiction of self harm, major character death (duh, he’s a ghost), masochism, blood, dub con, kylar is cringe as fuck, public sex, biting, creampie, knifeplay — ✧ synopsis: it's ironic, isn't it? how the one thing he wants most in this world is the one thing he can't have... his existence does have its advantages though, some that you'll experience intimately!

— ✧ A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! thank you for your patience. enjoy some kylar fun :D...

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

You’d think that dying and being turned into an ignored ghost would be an absolute hindrance, right? The whole… being incorporeal ordeal might present some issues sometimes, for some people, he imagines. Unable to fulfil that terrible itch to touch, to be touched, floating in a relative void of nothingness for all eternity just because of one stupid, rash decision. It’d be a pain for sure, he thinks, if he was completely disallowed to touch at all. But perhaps his excessive yearning for you is like magic, in the sense of being strong enough to bend the rules of existence itself to allow him a little, just enough feeling for him to be satisfied.

For now, at least.

And isn’t that proof enough of his love for you? That he was made to be with you, just as you were for him? Surely, given that every other ghost he’s met thus far has complained about the lack of literally anything, and how he must be so lucky to be allowed the privileged of reaching out to you on any God given occasion, that is proof. It’s certainly not luck that had him end up here, is it? No, it could never be…

Instead, he puts it down to love, plain and simple.

Though he did very little of loving you in his life prior, publicly regarding. Far too afraid of approaching you in fear of scaring you away with his… well, people call him weird for a reason, right? Now at least, he figures it might a good time to catch up on all those missed opportunities he was silly not to take before. It’s what he’s due for his patience, right? For committing the ultimate proclamation of love, undying in his quest to make you his.

He hadn’t intended on dying, to be honest with you. Carving your name into his arm one lonely night to comfort himself— he was just too sloppy with it. But what else could you ever hope to expect from a man who was rock hard at the mere thought of having you brand him forever, self inflicted or not. All the blood rushing to his cock before even grabbing the knife; it’s a wonder he even managed to pass from blood loss due to how hard his cock throbbed for you, blade in his shaky hand and oh so sharp. Sharpened just for this occasion, y’know? Especially for you, nothing but the best would ever do for his girl! And oh, how the slow drag of the pointed tip across his goose-bumped skin felt so good, had his cock all leaky and trembling in excitement just hovering the point above his arm. He hadn’t had much luck catching your attention thus far, regrettably sticking to the shadows in the meantime while you flirt and skirt around the whole school. But surely, with his new permanent tattoo, he’d be able to catch your eye—and hopefully a little more, yeah?

Trouble is, he’s a filthy masochist. A downright depraved mess of a man, erection upright and throbbing in anticipation as he cautiously tilts the tip of the knife against his soft skin. The expectation of it all, giddy with hope that this will once and for all secure his rightful place by your side, proving how only he can be your one and only true love, causes him to miscalculate just how deep he needs to carve his love for you. The strong bite of the knife, hot against his searing flesh, feels so fucking good— enough to have his hips jutting forward in an attempt to fuck the air as well as he’d like to fuck into your pretty princess pussy. It’s immediately dizzying, a horrible misuse of his love for you, but nonetheless a declaration that gets him off like nothing before. Instantly addicting in just how much it hurts, a choked hiss escaping his pouty lips as he digs in, digging as deep as he can with the knife to showcase just how far he’s willing to go for you, even if you aren’t actually present.

And the blood that drips from the first letter of your name should have been the first worrying sign, he knows. But isn’t that what made it all the more exciting in the end? The lack of thought, impulsively seeking more of that red hot high. Gushing from his open wound in waves, turning his arm a sticky red as a permanent stain of just how much he adores you. It’s sickening, really, how the black spots in his vision and the fluttering lashes only coaxed him into continuing, messily dragging the knife across his arm to start the next letter of your name— but alas. He’s always been weaker and smaller than most, and there’s only so much blood one man can lose before death comes for him. It’s not that he was surprised about the outcome given the circumstances, honestly! It’s just… Different. Yeah. Not as bad as the other ghosts he’s came across have claimed— but then again, none can match just how much love he holds for you, he’s certain.

Loves you enough to pester you any and every chance he gets, the one living soul he’s still yet tethered too. He imagines it’s got something to do with the fact that you aren’t fully his yet, and when you are and he inevitably has to leave, he’ll be waiting patiently for your arrival on the other side. But for now, it’s fun to simply exist by your side, to have you be the only one left to notice him; as he’s always ever wanted, really. And, to run his ghostly fingertips up and down your exposed arms, tickling you for attention while you enter the classroom is pleasure enough.

“Kylar—” you whisper shout at him in return, intending to scold, no doubt. But all it does is excited him some more, like the fucking ghoul he truly is, and always has been. A wretched excuse of a man, little fucking pervert, only you get to see his true side now. “Not. Here.”

Though he loathes to be back in this prison, he’s aware that you’ve got grades to keep up on where he doesn’t. And if he’s honest, it’s not so bad being back only because now he can sit besides you every class, every day. Back when he was alive, this was one of his ultimate dreams. And if all it takes is to pass away and to float by your side for eternity to do just that, then he thinks he’d kill himself a million times over just to prolong this dream. Standing by your side through it all, even if all merely consists of keeping you company through your morning math class like the dutiful boyfriend he is.

He always wondered how you did in maths. The school schedule disallowed him from visiting you during such early morning hours, and he always hated sitting anxiously in his own class all alone, eager to get out of it as soon as possible . Not solely because he was regularly bullied in class by his peers, ridiculed to no end for his antsy attitude and twiddling thumbs— stupid, the lot of them. His one regret is not having the time to get back at them some way, somehow. But he was also eager to leave class because that meant he was one step closer to you. Always you, thinking, watching, dreaming, you, you, you. He’d endure the torment of fellow students so long as he survived long enough to simply sit beside you for that one hour during English class together. That, truly, was the highlight of his day. Every fucking day. So much so that he found himself missing the bullying and the shoving and the name calling at the weekends only because he wasn’t in school to see you.

There was always solace in your scent, safety in your stares.

It didn’t so much matter to him that you never really paid him the time of day, always avoiding his wistful looks and deflecting his trembling touch. It didn’t bother him that you’d sneer down at him, spitting those same hurtful words that his bullies so often did, too. It’s okay, he gets it. You were just trying to survive, right? He’d never fault or blame you for that, not when he does the exact same thing. But deep down, you like him, don’t you? You just had to protect yourself, make sure that you didn’t also become a lonely little target like him.

He’d have killed them for you if you asked though, y’know?

Lest his blade get dirtied though, he’s glad that you never. Only so that he could kill himself in such a pure way, untainted by others gross stink and sweat upon his blade. Now, as he watches you sit in math class with hawk eyes, one hand precariously placed upon your shoulder to remind you of his presence, you can rest assured that he’s doing so only with the best, most clean intentions. His tummy filling with butterflies at the way you shiver under his touch, the pencil in your hand wobbling in your unsure grip as his cold courses through your system.

“Sorry,” he whispers to you, though there’s really no need to. Nobody else can see him, he’s almost certain… at least no one else seems to react to him. But old habits die hard or something, and he doesn’t want to get you in trouble for chatting to him during class. “Am I still too cold? I don’t mean to be, I don’t think I can help it, I--”

A shoulder shrug has his hand falling from your body, and he can’t help but to smile wide at the way you continue trying to communicate with him in spite of the orders by River to stay quiet. You’re trying for him, that’s all that matters to his unbeating heart.

“Got it. Too cold, sorry.” He quips, making sure to keep his voice low enough so as to not annoy you, but also so that he has a better chance of hearing your bored little sighs. The huffs of concentration as you do your best to work through the questions presented before you. He always did admire your work ethic, and it’s a genuine joy to be offered the privilege of watching you hard at work this morning. The little tips and taps of your pencil against the old wooden desk, scribbles on your work book, even the slight creaks and squeaks of your school chair from under your bored wiggles. More than anything, he simply adores just watching you. From every angle, behind any shadow. You’re just so perfect to him, even when you ignore his circling attempts, stalking around you like some sort of overbearing teacher— or shark.

He doesn’t mean to be weird, it’s just… Despite not being with you for very long in his more ghostly appearance, he can’t stop wanting to watch you. Creeping around you at every opportunity— you were the first person he thought to haunt when he realised his predicament fully. And now, knowing that not only is his temptation going unnoticed by those around him, but that you specifically are allowed to bear witness to his wanting, is everything he could have ever asked for and more.

Well, besides asking for his touch to return to its normal heated self, for your benefit solely. But coldness has its play reasons too, right? And he’s so sure you’d get used to it eventually, and he doesn’t mind waiting for as long as you take. Because he loves you. And because he doesn’t have anything else worth doing with his boring existence now, too.

Besides continuing to dote upon you.

Which is what he plans on doing, leaning closer in from behind you, intending on playfully distracting you from your work with a quick peck on your cheek; if not for the fact that something, or someone else, steals your attention away from him before his rightful opportunity.

Lamentably, he turns his head with your own snap turn, a scowl present on his face before he even considers the possibility of who might have called your attention before him. Instead, he’s upset merely that he doesn’t get to see your reaction. Surely it’s one of annoyance that you wear, right? How dare you interrupt my studies, leave me and my ghostly boyfriend alone before I report you!

In an ideal world, that’s how he’d like you to react. And, perhaps a little selfishly, that’s how he expects you to react. A quick dismissal, a rude awakening to whatever sap decides to distract you from your hard work, studying so prettily for him...

But he’s dead. And that certainly isn’t ideal, so he doesn’t fully expect your reaction to be perfect either. It’s okay, there’s time to work on it… in this life and in your own after life. But alas, the rude awakening that greets him upon coming face to face with Whitney’s horrible leer rocks him to his core. His fists automatically balling up at his sides in an attempt to protect himself from one of his biggest bullies, ready to fight back if need be— he’s already went ahead and killed himself anyway. But of all people, it just had to be his arch nemesis that threatens to dirty you with that eye fucking, huh? Fucking typical, though he obviously could tell that Whitney sat behind you in math class— not in the least because you’ve complained time and time again about just how much that man bothers you, he had been silently hoping, fucking wishing to be left alone with you. Just this once. Is that too much to ask?

Hasn’t his death been payment enough?

Or better yet, his genuine lifetime of pain and suffering, standing between you and the bullies as much and as often as he could, should be worth at least a look in his direction, right? Not that he’s mad at you, God, never… rather, he’s angered by Whitney’s continued dislike of him, going so far as to bully him in death, too. How Whitney is so wanting, always, of what does not belong to him. The sultry “Got the answers, slut?” That falls from his lips is disgusting, an immediate wave of nausea crawling up Kylar’s throat in response; if only his voice could be heard. Whitney never fails to irk him, and it saddens him to learn that there’s very little escape even after his passing.

Thankfully, though, you tell him to piss off.

“Atta girl!” Kylar commends you, beaming down at you from behind as the words he’s always wanted to say roll off his tongue so easily, now that he’s in constant privacy with just you. And, dare he admit, your refusal to submit to the bully has his cock twitching in his pants. Just a little, like a small warning. It’s hot seeing you fight back, even more so when he’s convinced that you’re doing it in an attempt to be left alone with him some more.

But still, no reaction from you upon his praise. And still, Whitney tries to steal your attention off of his kind words, a sulking huff escaping him at the way you instantly allow the bully the privileged of looking at you, let alone talking to you.

Despair grips his dead heart, dead to all but you, phantom pangs of pain begging to console you when Whitney tugs on your hair so unfairly—he’d never do the same to you, y’know? He’d brush it if you’d let him, wash and dry it all for you in a heartbeat. He’d look after you so well, if only you’d look at him and not—

“What was that, slut?” Whitney glares at you in the same way Kylar has been unfortunate enough to stare back at the barrel of a gun, too. And it upsets him, terribly so. So much so that he finds himself standing between you and Whitney on instinct; though this is immediately ineffective given how translucent and invisible he is to all but you. Quick, he thinks to himself. Something else, something that’ll immediately have you exiting the unfair situation…

He doesn't have much time to think, so he hopes you’ll forgive him for his rash actions of spinning around and pecking your cheek just like he’d originally wanted to do all along… but you should forgive him, because you’re his, after all. And he’s only trying to help you at the end of the day.

“The fuck are you blushing for, freak?” Whitney’s voice continues to ring in his ears, and he can’t stop the creepy smile from tugging on his lips when witnessing the pretty pink that dusts your cheeks in response to his help. See, he knew you’d appreciate it!

“I can, um… Kiss you some more, if you’d like?” Kylar fights for your attention, though meek as he might be. He knows what’s best for you, obviously, but it’s easier for everyone involved if he makes you feel like it’s your decision, right? That’s what he read online, anyway, when researching about how to find a girlfriend…

But perhaps the double attention is a little too much for you to handle, the frown you wear in response is surely distaste borne out of Whitney’s incessant yapping, right?

It couldn’t be anything else. Certainly not because of him, he’s sure. Because he’s helping, isn’t he?

Seconds feel like minutes as you stare at—or is it through?—him. But before he has a chance to double check with you that he made the right decision—which he did, but sometimes you need a little reminding, of course—you steal the opportunity of speech away from him. A quick nod in his general direction, he can’t tell if it’s aimed more at him or Whitney, but what matters is that the glare that soon follows cannot be mistaken for anyone other than him.

So hot… has him tensing up in excitement.

“Excuse me.” You say, voice tense as your lips press into a thin line. “Sir,” You promptly raise your hand, and Kylar is so pleased that you’re standing up for yourself that he claps for you, cringe as it may be. Theres no one but you to witness it anyway. “Can I use the restroom?”

Oh, “Good idea,” Kylar commends you, racing around to the front of your desk in a genuine effort to help you pack up your things, forgetting that he’s a fucking ghost. It’s the one negative that he’s came to experience with his new existence— he wishes he could physically help you out some more. “Escape into the bathroom, a classic—”

River cuts him off with an exhausted: “If you must.” but Kylar can hardly complain. The sight of you collecting your items pairs nicely with the scoff Whitney lets out following your dismissal, and like the lost little puppy he is, Kylar eagerly follows you out of the classroom and into the school hallways with his metaphorical tail wagging happily behind him. Not a single fucking a care in the world, which makes a change in such a setting.

Because he helped. Because that’s the only thing he ever wants to do for the rest of his afterlife; help you. Be with you, be around you, slipping around hallway corners and into the girls bathroom with you— which he’s been inside of on occasions, in particular when stalking you during lunch break. He wonders if you ever noticed? Still, you enter into the same cubicle you always do— second from the left, closest to the wall. And he figures the fact that you slam the door on his face isn’t because you want him to leave you alone, but out of sheer frustration over the situation, over Whitney and his bullying tendencies. He forgives you for the rude action anyway, so it doesn’t really matter the reasons why.

He’s a ghost.

And he’s not so sure why you adopt such a look of surprise upon his passing through the door to be beside you, offering you a lovesick little grin in response.

“What are you— why did you follow me, Kylar?”

The amount of pain in your voice aches him, has him reaching out to tenderly stroke your cheek with a soft coo falling from his pouty lips.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay, mostly…” which is the Gods honest truth! More than anything, he wanted to check that you were doing okay in private, where he could look upon you with stars in his eyes and dote on you to his hearts content. Congratulations resting at the tip of his tongue over just how well you handled that situation, and reassurances caught in his throat over the fact that he’s always more than willing to help you in any situation, utilising his ghostly energy solely in an effort to make your life all the more comfortable. But your scathing tone is quicker than his love, and instead of all those well intentioned thoughts spilling from his anxiously bitten lips, a tut now resides behind his teeth.

You avoid his gaze with another reprimand. “Okay?” is all you initially say, and he wants so badly to beg at your feet, yes, yes, I helped, didn’t I? Didn’t I do so good? But you once again cut him off before he even has a chance of pleading his case. “I was doing fine until, until you—”

Ah. He understands better now, he thinks. It’s true, you were handling yourself so well, better than he ever did when face to face with some scumbag like Whitney. He had to commend you there! But, with his helpful kiss, you had enjoyed it so much so that it ended up distracting you into a flustered state, right? Poor baby… you just need taken care of, right? He can understand why that’d be frustrating, having to escape the classroom and into the bathroom to try and deal with all of those assumed butterflies in your tummy— one cannot easily explain the intricacies of harbouring a ghost boyfriend, right? You— you must have wanted to get him alone in private to playfully scold him or something, a knowing giggle crawling up his throat at how red and cute your little cheeks are when staring back at him.

This is the perfect place to reward you, no doubt. Somewhere hidden, though still in public. He’d have liked to have played with you in proper public, watch you struggle to contain your enjoyment in front of so many others— because what would you even say to them? Oh, don’t worry, my ghost boyfriend is just balls deep in me right now, that’s why I’m moaning so loudly! No, of course not! It’s something to work up to, he concedes to himself. And for now, he doesn’t mind playing with you in secret public… since it’s what you're obviously wanting, after all.

It’s his turn to interrupt you for once, though it pains him to even think about being so rude to you, he thinks you might appreciate his efforts in the end. So long as he’s reading your signals right; there’s no way that he isn’t, his death and subsequent haunting of you has already proven just how strong his connection to you is… he could never be wrong when it comes to you.

“It’s okay, look,” he grabs your attention, one cold hand atop your head to gently push your vision down, until your eyes are in line with his crotch. He wants to show you just how much he appreciates you, how much he loves you and adores when you fight back, standing up for yourself is so attractive to him. And, more selfishly, “Look at what you do to me—” he huffs, wanting to help you understand exactly what your actions have stirred up within him today, so early on, too. You’re just so perfect, such a pretty girl to haunt, he can’t help but to want to express his feelings for you in the most plain way possible, y’know?

Front and centre, under your watchful eye, his cock throbs for you. Hard and heavy even if a little translucent; it still yet pulses with life, hidden under the loose pants he managed to die in. Not his first choice of clothing to be stuck in for eternity, but it gets the job done he supposes. And by that, he means that you can clearly see how it tents in your direction, dribbling precum all over himself simply from looking at that pretty expression you now wear. Brows furrowed and mouth agape, a gasp tumbling from your pretty pouty lips no doubt from his appreciation of you.

In awe, aren’t you? Of his utter dedication, how loyal he is to you, much like a dog. Tugging his bottoms off to wag his cock at you like a treat— “Got me all riled up.” he smiles genuinely, a soft sigh escaping him at the way you run your fingers through your hair, bashfully avoiding the rock hard cock right in front of you. He oh so loves how cute you are when you get all shy, light loving laughter spilling from his lips as he places a cool hand on your shoulder.

“There isn’t much room in here…” he thinks out loud, humming in faux thought for just a moment before surprise swivelling you around so that your back is now facing him. And the elbow you send into his side only turns him on some more, silly. He enjoys it when you fight back, because every punch and kick from you feels so much like a kiss, a reminder of the life he once had as pain courses through him and pools in his cock. “But there’s enough, I think.”

And if there isn’t, well… Perks of having a ghost for a boyfriend— he can just phase through the stall and still fuck into you. Half in and out, it doesn’t matter. You’re the only person, and thing in general, that he can meaningfully interact with.

His cock automatically taps against your ass when you teasingly squirm around with want, hypnotising him with your movements from side to side. Like you’re encouraging him, right? The way your knees buckle from under you as he towers behind you is so cute too, coaxing some more pre to leak from his tip just for him to smear it against your school skirt, a soft cooing tut escaping him as he tugs on the end of it, your panties soon following, and letting them drop just enough to have his cock pressing against your bare ass cheeks. And oh, how warm you are against his cold tip, prompting him to shiver against you when you refuse to let up tempting him with those pretty wiggles.

It only turns him on more seeing how excited you are for him to show his appreciation, those cute little muffles and whimpers you sound as he angles his hips down so that his spectral cock can rub between your soft and squishy thighs is soooo nice, something worth dying for, he thinks to himself.

And there’s so much satisfaction to be had in grabbing your wrists before you know what’s happening to you, pinning them above your head as you’re forced to submit over the toilet below you. There’s nowhere for you to run, nowhere that you can hide from him now that he’s dead— and isn’t that just so fucking exciting? So hot to him, his cock twitching incessantly against your flushed skin with a sweet sigh escaping him. You always have him feeling like a dirty little virgin again every time he dotes on you like this, his hips stuttering against you on instinct; it’s fucking silly how you have him feeling so good from relatively very little already.

Which just proves to him further that not only do you belong to him, but that you want this sort of treatment too. You could never convince him otherwise.

And how could you not want him anyway? With the way your body tenses up for his enjoyment, hands balled into tiny little fists for stability against the wall while he pins you in place. Your pretty pussy—God he’s so in love with her, wants to eat her out forever and ever, mark her all up with his seed, worship and lick and fuck her always, you’ve got no fucking idea the things he’d do for just a smidge of your cunt—leaking all over him, drooling slick up and down his cock for him to gag at; he’d die over and over again for this cunt.

He’s only so riled up because he witnessed your bravery too, but honestly, just being near you is enough to set him off. His grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand passes through the stall wall; sometimes he forgets that he can’t lean on anything but you for support. Which you happily accept, right? His free hand coming down to lock onto your waist, grabbing and pinching as a means to stay somewhat present in the moment, but he always inevitably loses his mind a little when it comes to you. Squeezing at your side from the delight of physical touch, finally. Balls just aching and heavy with seed for you as he rubs one out between your thighs idly, lazy with his strokes in the hopes of warming you up to how cold his spectral body is.

The things he wants to do to you. The things he will do to you.

“Wanna keep you like this forever—” he huffs, wondering if the breath that fans across the back of your neck is hot or cold, though it doesn’t truly matter. You shiver into it regardless, in turn choking his cock a little tighter against the fat of your thighs to have him choking on thin air above you. “So pretty, so proud of you today, God… Wanna praise you forever ‘n ever ‘n—”

He cuts himself off with a moan, his cock tip severely sensitive due to being unable to so much as rut against anything other than you. It’s only natural that he then relies on you a little more, right? He doesn’t mean to, but he simply has to; lest go goes insane and dead. But he hopes that in return for relying on you more than he should, he can make it up to you with how his cock slips and slides between your folds, rock hard and pulsing pleasantly with each knock against your clit. All sloppy with your slick— because duh, you want this reward, right?

Evident from how pitchy and strained your voice is when you regard him with: “Kylar, will you— quit it—!”

A sly smirk tugs on his lips in response. Sneaky and mean, a low sigh crawling up his throat before he gives you exactly what you want. Impatient little girl, it’s like you know that he’d do literally anything for you, whenever for you. Whatever princess wants, princess gets…

Which is exactly why he stops humping, as per your request. Drawing his hips back so that his tip catches perfectly on your cute little hole, the hand on your waist dipping a little further down to spread your ass cheek to the side for his viewing pleasure, before he rather unfairly thrusts his hips forward in one fell swoop and fucks you so full of his ghost cock that you’re left gasping for air. Nice and cooling, right? Especially against such soft and warm squishy insides— yin and yang. You expertly match him, his better half.

All wind is knocked out of him upon entering your sweet heat too, don’t worry. You’re not the only one struggling to take the stretch, carving his size out of your hole as a means of ownership. As if to say: this is my cunt. And he wont lie, part of why he immediately settles into a quick pace of in and out is to prove as much to you too. To prove to Whitney, look, see how much she’s gasping for me? How she tightens up with every pass of his throbbing cock in and out, only pulsing for you, because of you. Nothing else quite literally does it for him, his head thrown back in immediate sheer bliss, his own little personal heaven bent over before him in such a dirty cramped little space…

You deserve better, absolutely. And he’d love to give you just that later tonight when he follows you home, too. But a good boyfriend listens to his girlfriend, even if she doesn’t speak. You may not have voiced your want for him to fuck you raw in the school bathroom today, but he knew. Could pick up on all your little tells and non verbal communication so easily— and he’s pleased to know that he listened well given how your tight cunt just leaks over him. A loud slap surely to be heard from his fucks in and out— if he wasn’t a ghost, that is.

Another point as to why he must be fated to be with you, right? His groans and moans, the way his heavy with seed balls slap against your puffy little slit as you whine and wriggle all pretty for him; it’s all only for you. The sole listener, the only one able to hear and see him. In return, he muses to himself that if anyone were to walk in on this scene, him balls deep in your pretty pussy, hunched over you like a fucking dog in heat… they’d see nothing but your gaping hole struggling to take him. And isn’t that just so fucking hot? How you must stay quiet, lest anyone sees you in such a compromising situation? Nobody would fucking believe you, and he can feel the power he holds over you course through him with every greedy hump forward, and every quick draw back. Slamming his cock into you, fucking the breath right out of you with the weight he throws behind his possessive thrusts.

“Perfect—” spills from his smiling lips, tugged into a cheek aching grin the moment you begged him for more, like a good girl. “You’re so, so perfect, ah—“ his voice is high pitched, cunt rendering him useless, just a moaning mess of a dead man as he loses himself inside of you. Eyes rolled back and jaw slack with open mouthed sighs— he even drools on you. Just a little, in sheer pleasure. All he wants is to make you feel good, praise dripping from the end of his cock to leave your insides all sticky and goopy with precum, but you make it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand when you’re breathing so heavily like that, and tensing up to make it easier for him to thrust into you.

“Never gonna leave you.”

And he’s so happy to hear your muffled whimpers in response to his reassurances, coaxing him into stuttering his hips into you, unable to keep up with the amount of love and devotion pouring from his every greedy grab of your heated skin and wet smack of his cock into your gushing cunt. Like she can tell just how serious he is, loyal to you in life and in death, refusing to let up on showing you his affection with fast enough fucks to have him on his tippy toes for you. It’s silly, how he’s just so easy for you. A simp through and through, strengthening the grip he has on your wrists only to pin them behind your back, using your own body against you as leverage to better fuck into you. And he doesn’t hear you complaining— quite the contrary, actually.

Gently, he hushes you. A soft sound pressed right against the shell of your ear, followed by a greedy groan of his own at the deeper angle he now fucks you in. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, right?” his whispers against your soft skin, humming in faux thought over the imagined scene of you getting caught. It’s hot, of course, imagining the shocked look on your face upon the stall door swinging opening, his cock throbbing harder when he thinks about how he wouldn’t stop, not even for a single fucking second in the hopes of publicly claiming you as his own. God— he’s so close just from thinking about it.

It’d be the perfect display, he thinks. Pure ownership, indulgence at its finest. He only wishes he had the guts to do so when he was alive, cock balls deep in your tight little angel cunt for all to see just how well you squirm on it, like you were fucking made to take his cock. For him and him only, a ring of cream forming at the base of his cock to prove that he still has life left in him yet.

Even if it feels like he’s fighting for his life, fucking so deep into your cunt that he’s sure his cold tip is rocking against your cervix, kissing her so full of precum that you’re fucked into squelching around him. He’s just so sick for you, completely and utterly down bad in every sense, that he can’t help but to keep going. Ignoring your cries and pleads for something— he’s too busy getting his cock wet to fully listen to your words. Only that you sound good, making his cock tremble with impatience as his balls grow taut and his hips fight to keep up with the speed he wants to fuck you at.

It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen over by now, getting fucked by the ghost of a rabbit behind you.

“Close—” he chokes out for you, inhaling as much air as he possibly can in an attempt to keep up with himself, but his thrusts falter regardless. Failing to fucking you at a consistent speed and rhythm, caring selfishly only for his own enjoyment as he pounds you uncomfortable against the toilet wall. “So close,” he gasps, genuine and fraught with so much need, the tight suck of your cunt coaxing him closer, as if instinctively trying to help get him off faster, proves to be all he needs in the end.

Because it’s you. Because he’s downright obsessed with you, he doesn’t need much else to get off like a filthy pervert but you, to be honest.

And like the slut he is for you, he bends you over some more, chomping down on your clothed shoulder in a feeble attempt to leave more of his mark. The resulting sob you let out at the painful reminder of his existence forever by your side is what really does him in, fat ropes of cum shooting from his tip to surprise him into pained whimpers of enjoyment. Still, his hips don’t stop, fully milking himself to completion inside of your warm and wet cunt, filling her up enough to have some of his seed drip out and down to the bathroom tiles with muted thuds!

You’re so perfect, so fucking pretty and pliant, unable to escape him forever and ever. He wants to fuck you to death, wants to lock you up and keep you in his pocket so that he can praise your cunt whenever he wants— which is always. Let no one else even think about looking at you, breed you forever and always as thanks simply for existing. Making him feel so good, taking his cock so well—

Heavy breaths escape him as he soon slows down, still yet fucking into you at a lazy pace to make sure you get every single drop of seed he has to offer you. It’s what you deserve, after all, for being such a good girl for him. For being his good girl, more specifically. A sadistic smile making its way to his lips when he wonders if his cum will be seen dripping out of you by others, or if that too will be hidden from everyones view but your own. Your own dirty little secret to share with him; how romantic, huh?

“Love you,” he rushes to sputter as soon as he can catch his breath again, idly stroking himself off still while buried deep in your cunt, nuzzling against your neck while you shiver from under him. “Love you so much, ‘m so happy to be with you, you’re so pretty and perfect and— oh—” your cunt distracts him, as always. Squeezing and suckling his tip in his idle state, a breathy laugh escaping him at your lewd display of continued want.

“S’okay,” he reassures you, humming sweetly down your ear when you sniffle back at his lack of thought. Poor thing, it’s a shame you sound so nice when you cry. “Haven’t forgot about you, promise, just— lemme pull out, okay? Will look after you, make you feel good too.”

Anything to keep you by his side, really. It’s only a bonus that break time is soon approaching, and you’re gonna struggle to keep your mouth shut once he has a chance to get his lips on you. Determined to prove his existence through you by way of getting on his knees on the dirty bathroom stall, tongue already poking out in unadulterated excitement to make you feel good. Better than ever before, so that you’ve got no choice but to accept that he’s your fated mate.

So that you’re forced to accept him by your side, forever and ever. Even after death, you can’t and won’t escape him.

[deer-fic-fics]

Dr. Harper deciding they have to “test your senses/sensitivity to ensure your nervous system is in good working order.” Inspired by @pip-n-chips’s post about Harper testing your lung function by choking you out.

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: unethical medicine, medical malpractice, unrealistic medicine, abuse of power, patient/care provider relationship, dub-con, hypnosis, handjobs/fingering. Mentions of somnophilia, drugs, aphrodisiacs

It is a little strange for your primary care doctor to insist on checking up on your eye, ear, and mouth health— tests usually run by Doctors who specialize in the field. But of course, Harper’s so matter-of-fact about it, ever the consummate professional, that you second-guess yourself for doubting them.

They start off fairly normally with an eye exam— testing your sensitivity to light. Dilating your pupils with medicine, leaving you unsteady and reliant on them to lead you for a time, should you need to go anywhere. They end up admiring your eye up close under the guise of an inspection, looking at your lashes, your pupil, the delicate web of capillaries running through the whites of your eyes and your cornea, orangey-red in the light they shine in.

The hearing tests are rather normal, except when you’re done, Harper startles you “by accident,” leaning in and whispering into your ear. You flinch at the warm air from their mouth, leaving Harper to hastily pull their medical mask back up and apologize, hiding their mischievous smile.

The smell tests are fairly normal as well— or so you think, eyes still dilated and unable to make much out. You may not even notice Harper’s death grip on their own thighs as they watch you unknowingly huff their cum from one of the testing vials.

Then it progresses to taste, and becomes a little more invasive. Harper dons a clean pair of medical gloves, pinching your tongue between their fingers to make you hold still. They place small flavor flakes on various points of your tongue, testing your sensitivities to sweet, salty, sour, bitter, umami. The Doctor writes down your results, slipping his fingers under his mask to taste your spit coating his fingers when you look away.

The last sense is touch. Doctor Harper starts small, running their fingertips over your skin lightly, carefully documenting every spot that that makes you shiver, every spot that makes you giggle, every spot that makes you flinch and try to squirm away. It progresses to deeper pressure, massaging and kneading your muscles to see how your body responds. “It’s necessary,” they’ll assure you. “We need to make sure your nervous system is in good working order, after all.” The sensitivity testing becomes more invasive— Harper slips their gloved fingers into your mouth again, gently stroking your tongue and the roof of your mouth. If you’ve been particularly difficult with the testing, they might be mean and try to trigger your gag reflex, just to watch you tear up and start to drool.

They slide their hand from your lips. They replace their gloves, and begin lubing their fingers, acting confused if you look suspicious and uncomfortable. “Of course, we’ll have to check your responsiveness as thoroughly as possible. I would be remiss as your primary care Doctor not to.” Your body relaxes itself at their words, your mind’s resistance eroded away by the sudden, hypnotic lull of their voice. They keep you as conscious and present as possible, so as to not tarnish the results of the test… but a little was necessary.

Harper clicks their tongue when you cum over their fingers, assuring you it’s a perfectly normal phenomena for this kind of procedure, muttering something about your sensitivity being in an ideal range or not— by what medical standards, you aren’t sure— but Harper quickly performs a few sensitivity tests after your orgasm, and then begins to work you towards a second. It seems like it’s never going to end— they take you over the edge over and over again, performing tests in between to see how your sensitivity changes.

~~~~~

(A/N)

I was also going to include Harper testing Reader’s spice tolerance and pain tolerance, but it didn’t really fit well with the rest of the “timeline” of the story. Also, Harper is most definitely a psychological sadist, but I’m not sure to what extent they’re a physical sadist, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Imagine Harper’s “medical” notes once Reader passes out… body diagrams labeling all of your most sensitive spots. Harper probably cums all over themself and/or those papers while trying to finish filling them out. They probably also fuck you while you’re passed out. You’re going to be sore when you wake up anyway, so what difference will you notice?

Imagine our dear Doctor testing Reader’s sensitivity in between edges rather than orgasms instead… and/or while Reader is under the influence of various drugs and aphrodisiacs🤭

Still working on F!Harper’s boobnosis, I promise 😭

[whitneys-puppyslut]

Slippery Slope

18+ / Minors DNI

Random thoughts about M!Whitney and petplay Includes: petplay, M!Whitney, gender-neutral PC, they/them pronouns, Whitney being down bad but not admitting it, exhibitionism, soft Whitney, cockwarming

Thinking of M!Whitney with a puppyboy or puppygirl or, for simplicity's sake, puppyslut. We all know he loves degrading PC and treating them like a worthless fucksleeve... so treating them like a filthy mutt doesn't seem too far off for his personality. But I feel like he'd be hesitant to engage in full-on petplay with PC. At first. Because although, yes, petplay comes with a considerable power imbalance and dom/sub dynamics and the degradation that Whitney thrives off of, it can also be very intimate and loving. Like, what is he supposed to do when PC wants pets and scritches while in puppyspace? That's too soft for him. He just wants to call them a stupid mutt and fuck their brains out. So he starts off with that. PC wears a pair of soft, floppy ears and a tail as their favorite bully plows into them from behind. Then that evolves into collars and leashes so he can yank their leash and drag them around the school that way. But like, if they already wear a leash, then surely it wouldn't hurt to take them on a walk. Naked. In public. Because it's a punishment, they've just been so defiant lately, they need to be put in their place. And naturally they'd be wearing the ears and tail (because they never seem to want to take them off). On that note, they seem to be enjoying their walk a little too much... judging by how much they're leaking from their puppy cunt/cock. But Whitney would be a fucking liar if he said he wasn't enjoying it, too... So he supposes it makes sense then, how the two of them got in this situation, with PC straddling his lap in the library, Whitney's thick cock stuffed in their soft wet hole, neither of them moving however. Instead, Whitney is cooing a mix of praise and degradation in their ear and gently petting their hair. PC's head is in the crook of Whitney's neck, gently nibbling at the skin there like a mouthy puppy. If their tail was real, it'd be wagging right now. Such an intimate scene. It almost doesn't sound like Whitney when he says– "Such a good puppy for me. Good slut. You deserve a reward, yeah?" –because he says it in such a calm, smooth, gentle tone. But it IS him, it's Whitney. And just that notion (and maybe also the mention of a reward) has PC squirming in his lap, ready for whatever their owner will give them.

[mellowwillowy]

Lazy sex with Bailey is good-good. (Soft Yan Bailey AU)

He's too tired of extorting managing the orphans so the moment he plopped down into the bed with you, cuddling session is in need.

Looks like you've gotten the stockholm syndrome achievement, no more begging to leave the orphanage, he won't let you step out of the front door else Avery might see you.

If Avery sees you, he would inform Remy, Briar, Eden and Landry about it to make him hand you to them. Sharing isn't his thing, he's a greedy man just like the others after all.

God, you smell so good tonight.

Bailey nuzzles himself deeper into the crook of your neck, his hip thrusting up into yours unconsciously. He needs to do something about his pent up frustration.

Unbuckling the belt to his pants, he slid down his pants and boxer, his cock lining up between your thighs. It starts out slow, kisses all over you before he picks his pace. Doesn't take long for him to line it into your hole.

"Let's get to it yeah? Missed you so much, how many years have it been? 18 years are not short," he mumbles as he fucks you slow and steady, "could have sworn we all saw your body burried and now you are here..."

"I love you."

It's an everyday rite for him to feel you all for himself. It's only a matter of time before the other finds you.

[eyesbehindus]

DoL: Kylar - Voyeurism

1025 words. Typical DoL warnings apply.

Kylar stared at the monitor, their eyes fixated on the gloom of their beloved’s room. She had been acting off all day, and so they had committed their time to making sure she was safe (something his parents weren’t particularly fond of, but still) and had followed her from dawn until dusk.

He had watched them pull their hood up, a face mask helping to conceal their identity as they weaved through the crowd. He followed as best he could, and just barely caught them slip into that new shop down on Elk street. It opened up recently, and he knew that they had helped (they were always so kind, even though those other bastards didn’t deserve it) but they had never seemed this nervous about entering it before. After a long few minutes they exited, bag in hand. That was all he needed to see – surely, his soulmate had gotten him a gift! And he knew he shouldn’t peek, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’d always been that way. (Though thinking about that made him think of Sydney, so he quickly cast those thoughts aside.)

After what felt like hours she finally walked into her room, bidding goodbye to that little fucking manwhore friend of theirs (Robin? Rachel? He doesn’t care to remember.) and he watched as they shut the door and rushed to their bed. They quickly dug through the bag and pulled out… a bottle. He recognised that bottle. It was same type he used to… practice with his doll. His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, and she reached back in to pull out a dildo. His hands clenched into fists as he watched, a burning jealousy coursing through him. The rational part of his brain told him that he was being ridiculous, that there was no reason to be jealous over a piece of plastic, but the other 99% of his brain screamed with an unmatched rage and envy that he should be there getting her off, that he should be the one to make them cum and that HE should be the one they remember as the first one to fill them. Not some filthy fucking piece of shit toy.

And yet, some part of him liked this.

After all, he was the one who’d get to see this before anyone else – no, the only one who’d ever get to see this. He wasn’t going to let anyone defile her with their eyes. And after all, they… might need the training, given his prodigious size. So he sat, and resolved to watch.

His hands trailed down as theirs did, unbuttoning his trousers and shimmying them down as she pressed her dildo against her entrance. They looked so unsure, and god, he wished he could be there to hold them as they coated it in lube and lined it up. His hands wrapped around his cock as she attempted to push it in, only for it to slide away. She huffed and pouted, one of her cutest traits if you asked him, and applied more lube – a far more generous amount this time – and pushed it in.

They sucked in a sharp breath, their free hand gripping their mattress tight as they adjusted to the sensation. Kylar grabbed some lube and readied himself, silently wishing he’d gotten his doll. He supposed he could get it now, but then he’d have to stop watching, and that just wasn’t happening. So instead he slowly stroked up and down his length as his love started to pump the toy into themselves. They couldn’t take much of it, but they were trying their best. Every now and then they’d glance at the door or their window, and their eyes would sweep across his camera; it was a challenge to hold back when that happened. He willed himself to last, not wanting to miss a second of this, and maintained an agonisingly slow pace as she gently fucked herself. Her eyes were screwed shut now, and she brought her other hand to her clit and started to massage it. A moan slipped past her lips, though she quickly bit her lip and stifled it.

He sped up, his stroking now reaching a decent pace as she did the same; she went faster, deeper, harder. Despite their best efforts, he could just about hear small gasps and moans permeate the silence. She was fast approaching her peak, said moans getting louder and her actions losing their rhythm somewhat – Kylar followed suit, starting to moan himself as pre-cum leaked from his tip and coated his shaft. With every moan she let out his dick throbbed, jumping in his grip slightly as he felt his own climax build up; and just as he reached a point where he couldn’t hold it any more, she screamed out suddenly and arched her back as her orgasm overtook her. He watched as her toes curled, as her face twisted in pleasure and her body shook while held her new toy deep inside her, and he let go.

He let out a pathetic, whimpering cry as his orgasm overloaded his senses, cum shooting out in thick ropes and landing on his desk and hoodie. His hands continued their ministrations, coaxing out every last drop he had before he fell limp in his chair, panting. He looked at the screen, seeing her in much the same state – she was splayed out on her bed, deep breaths helping to still her shaking body. Her eyes snapped open as someone hammered on her door, and she quickly covered herself. He barely made out the words, fatigue washing over him – whoever she was speaking to didn’t sound happy. Probably that caretaker.

After allowing himself a few more minutes of rest he forced himself up, cleaning up the mess he’d made and clicking out of the spy-cam (but not before saving the past half-hour as a video. He’d edit it down later.) Once all was said and done, he made his way to the bathroom and cleaned himself up before sitting back down and idly wondering how often she’ll do this.

He can’t wait for tomorrow.

[heartilyrins]

Hi! It's the anon that asked if she can drop Robin headcanons!

Sorry I didn't write them on ur previous blog, I was busy with exams. Then when I got free, ur blog went missing :(

So glad to have you back! Will you be playing hoyo's new game, ZZZ?

Also here's the headcanons i promised lol (unfortunately I forgot some of them)

*despite there being no difference in-game, i feel like some of Robin's habits will depend on both their and the PC's gender. For example; growing up, male!Robin and male!PC took showers together because they were afraid of Bailey walking in on them when one of them was alone (yeah I know Vrel confirmed that Bailey took care of the orphans till they got to a certain age but I hate that balding old prick too much to give him any sort of credit). Now that they both are older and need to secure that bag to prevent their asses from being sold off to whoever is feeling particularly freaky on a Saturday, they can't do that anymore. And that makes poor Robin feel lonely😔. He just wants to splash in the bathtub again for old times sake and totally doesn't want to oogle the pc while he relaxes, hair all wet and nice, is it really too much to ask for? (Yes Robin, It's too much to ask for. The PC needs to collect a shit ton of money from sources more reliable than a lemonade stand) so you can't really blame him for masturbating in the shower while fantasizing about PC walking in on him taking a normal shower and asking if he can join and maybe even fuck in there :(

In a scenario where Robin and PC are of opposite gender, they stopped taking showers way early compared to if Robin and PC had the same gender. While both Male!Robin and Female!Robin give (opposite gender)!PC personal space, they can't help but be curious, it's only natural after, I mean you guys have known each other since childhood right? So there's no harm in peeking at PC during the night when he/she is pleasuring herself/himself with his/her door cracked open just a tiny bit. Robin is not being a pervert! He/she is just protecting the PC by standing near there door and peeking every now and then <3

Ah but of course, all that is thrown out of the window if PC is actually related to them. Canonically If you don't romance Robin then you have a close friendship, one that is almost like having a sibling

Now in the messed up world of DOL, a place where you can literally grow cat ears by drinking milk and have to constantly worry about someone with a British accent jumping you for no reason at all other than the fact that they were horny and wanted to make it your problem, I present to you; Robin falling for their actual sibling.

Now at Low!Confidence, regardless of the PC's feelings, Robin would still not be pushy (though they will be a lot more touchy-feely and clingy) and keep their feelings to themselves.

High Confidence! Robin though?

Oh? PC is taking a shower? *joins in* hehe, why are you flustered? Nothing wrong with brothers/sisters/brother and sister/siblings taking a shower together :) here, let Robin help you apply some soap :))) no their hand did not touch the PC'S ass, it was the soap trickling down their back ;)

Also a person hill I would die on; while High Confidence!Robin would wake PC up for sex, LC!Robin sticks to taking care of themselves. If PC is a light sleeper then they masterbait while looking at PC'S face, secretly hoping (but also dreading) at they wake up. On the other hand, if PC is a heavy sleeper then male!Robin will sneakily try to please himself using PC'S thighs or rub against their ass. He's not brave enough to finish there though, so he sneaks off to the bathroom or his room to cum while thinking about PC. Fem!Robin is slightly more depraved and only stops after she finishes, but post-nut clarity hits her harder and he feels extremely guilty. Though, it all slowly goes away. After all, what PC doesn't know can't hurt them right :)

Hrrrrggggg, sorry if they weren't that good. English is not my first language and i haven't played the game in a while (though I'm slowly getting back)

Also if you ever do an anon list can i be ~🩵 anon?

Hope you had a nice day/evening!

OHHH PLEASEE 🥺🥺 I js realised I have NEVER wrote about dol until now and this thought makes me drool, sorry this took so long to reply.. This was like MONTHS ago.. ofc you can be 🩵 anon !!

Side note: since I only write for male characters and female readers, I will only be using Male!Robin and Female!PC ^^

// noncon, somno, drugs, incest

Anyways to continue the thought, I feel like Robin would have that one certain journey to get to where he will be—a depraved horny boy desperate to have sex with his leetle sis!!

It would start with certain touches as you said.. you both often have showers together! And as you grew up.. it was normal to have your brother have his hands all over you to spread the soap, wash your body and even your private spot ><

You’ve became used to showering with him, so it doesn’t even appear to you that he’s started getting touchy with you during showers.. One thing leads to another and then he starts to touch you out of showers too! Just.. close contact for now, he doesn’t want to make you so nervous.

Eventually he’ll get tired of just ‘touches’ and jerking off in front of your unconscious face. He starts to use drugs so he can use you while you’re asleep.. From then, there’s two ways this could go; either you got used to the drugs and wake up during it or he stops using drugs because he wants you awake!

But there’s no stopping with either options you have, he’ll try to reassure you that it’s all okay and that it’s normal while he’s tearing your cunt apart.. it’s up to you to believe it, because he won’t stop either way ><

copr. heartlyrins

[modern-gremlin]

I should really know better than to think I'll remain in a comfy position in bed when I'm catching up on fics I'M ACTUALLY PUNCHING THE AIR AND SCREAMING INTO A PILLOW.

I'm really normal about all of this. you are all so talented, I appreciate you and I regret nothing. <3