#ftm reader smut

[slamminslamminmcgill]

saw a tweet abt asking joel to chase you through the woods and catch you and pin you down in the dirt and fuck the life out of you and im OBSESSED!!!

already being winded and lightheaded from running, you trip over a tree’s roots and faceplant on the ground. you scramble to get up, thinking you’ve still got enough distance between you two, but as soon as you get to your hands and knees, his boot stomps down on your back and flattens you out again.

“got’cha.”

he pulls your pants and underwear down just below your asscheeks, and you lift your hips up to help him out. the hard part’s over, and you’re just aching to get to the fun; you can’t even be bothered to fake a struggle. you hear his belt clinking, his zipper unzipping, and some fabric rustling. he takes his foot off your back and kneels down, his strong legs flanking yours. he whips out his half-hard cock, and slaps it against your clit over and over. your body jolts upward, your cunt springs a leak, and you’re whimpering loud enough to attract attention. joel loves it, but he’s taking his role seriously.

“shut up. don’t need me a fuckin’ audience.”

now fully hard, he stops frotting against you and pokes his head into the center of your hole, but he doesn’t breach it. you squirm, scooping your hips and trying to catch him in there yourself, but he’s too strong. he takes mercy on you, though, and pushes inside you. he’s so thick, the stretch of him always aches, especially with almost zero foreplay. your body tries to scream, but your lungs are practically empty. all that comes out is a choked little gulp. instinctively, you claw at the ground in front of you, unwittingly dragging your body away from him. joel takes hold of your hips, and yanks you backwards into him, bottoming out with pure force and no warning.

“nuh uh, y’ain’t goin’ nowhere, whore. you stay right the fuck there ‘til i’m done.”

and with no chance of resistance, you accept your position. you cross your arms around your dirt-smeared face, sobbing into your makeshift pillow. clenching fistfuls of grass while he ravages you, turning your weakened body into his cumdump.

and all the while, the only thing on your mind is that you’re definitely making him do this again.

(this post was written by a trans man. do NOT refer to the reader as female)

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Pairing(s): Munch! Simon Riley x ftm reader. Pussy and clit is used in this!

Munch! Simon who needs your pussy at all times. Ever since he'd retired from service, his pent-up desires know no bounds. He craved and needed it, no matter where it happened- even during the night or in a secluded place in public.

Munch! Simon sees you minding your business on the couch, wearing nothing but boxers. Like the flash, he's instantly on his knees and your boxers are lowered to your knees. Your legs were on his shoulder as he buried his head between your thighs.

Munch! Simon has a PhD in pussy eating. Simon lifted his mask to expose his mouth before latching it onto your fuzzy entrance. Your hand held onto the man's mask as he ate you out. His tongue lapped at your folds and flicked your throbbing clit. The thousands of nerves inside the nub lit your body on fire.

Munch! Simon can only groan, sending the vibrations through your body. His eyes roll to the back of his skull as he is drunk on your juices. Simon would also thrust his fingers into your tight heat while toying with your clit. Suckin' on your folds while softly biting your clit. He would leave your body shaking violently as it was too much but it felt so good.

Munch! Simon always makes you cum more than once. It's only right! When he feels your insides spasming around him before he feels the wet sensation on his tongue or fingers; he's already gonna make you have a second one. He's not gonna stop until you squirt for him. Even then, he's gonna continue.

Now, Munch! Simon does eat you out whenever you're having body dysphoria. He pins you down and tells you that you're the hottest and most handsome man he's ever seen! He would praise your body saying that you've gained tons of muscle and that everything is coming along nicely!

Another thing is that Simon loves being sat on. He loves being suffocated by your pussy and juices. Plus size? That doesn't matter, in fact, Simon loves that! He wants to feel your total weight on his face he drowns in your juices. It's his preferred position when he wants to squirt for him.

He swallows every drop like he's a dehydrated man. Simon savors the taste. Now, he's gonna that two more times.

taglist: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @furiousflowercreation @maxxioislost @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @geminiflanagan69 @starboye @boypied @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl

[writing-mlm]

Will you love me again?

Summary: Simon’s returned home after 20 years but the suitors have finally grown restless of waiting for you to pick a new King of Ithaca. Pairing: King!Simon Riley x King!Ftm!reader Wc: 6.1k Tags/Warning: Canon-level violence, talks/planning of S/A, Epic the Musical Ithaca Saga spoilers! Most of the words are literally lyrics so ig song fic, oral (r!receiving), fingering, stomach bulge, reader has a vagina, no protection, creampie

His skin remembers the touch of your lips, the way they’d press against his tense muscles, the way they’d kiss his scars and carry soft whispers and songs. How your hands would touch him, run up his arms, cradle his face, and remove his helmet. He remembers the sound of your voice, how you’d talk to him while weaving against the window, your kingdom standing below your castle. 

The castle he’d built all those years ago as a declaration of his love for you. A castle that grew colder as the years stretched on since he’s been there; taken away for a war. 

A war, born from a greedy man kidnapping your cousin. A war Simon hadn’t wanted to participate in because, despite his oath to your cousin's husband, the Trojans have never helped Ithaca in their times of need. And even more so, he had you, his husband, and your newborn to watch over. To protect. He’d only agreed to help after he’d been tricked. 

A war that was supposed to be no more than five years had turned into a twenty-year journey. He’d left a twenty-year-old, rising to power in Ithaca with a newborn son. Now he’s forty, his home just out of sight, and his son would be twenty. He imagines how you must look now. How your hair must’ve greyed, how you picked the hyacinths and bluebells from the garden. 

He wonders how his son is doing, what he likes, and what he’s accomplished. How he’s missed his whole life. 

Simon strains as he pushes the raft from the island, the goddess he left on the sandy shores crying for him. Begging him to stay; she loves him. He loathes her. He loathes the years he’s stayed trapped on that island, how she’d been persistent on loving him. Gods, provided she wasn’t a goddess, he would’ve killed her the first time she even hinted at such. 

His head hurts when he remembers his fallen friends; Gaz, Price— and Johnny. He’d gotten his brother killed, he let all of them, all six hundred men die under his watch. The cyclops, Scylla, Circe— Zeus, Poseidon. He recognizes the pain turning into red-hot anger as he pushes past Charybdis. These past years cannot have been in vain. The souls that haunt his dreams won’t have died in vain. 

He’ll make it home, he’s sure of that. 

—

You stare at the suitors gathered at the palace gates, angry men eager to become the next king one way or another. All the while your son, Johnny, stands in front of them with a spear and your old armor. You know that look in his eyes, that Athena's determination he has because Simon had it, too. 

You sigh, undoing the threads you’d made the day before. For the funeral shroud you’ve been making for ten years with the promise that once it’s done, you’ll pick from the suitors and give Ithaca a new king. You almost laugh when you remember how many years ago that had been now. How foolish the suitors had been to agree to your demand. How you fear you’ll have to finish it one of these days. 

You look at your sword hung in the corner of the room. You remember your newly made armor, tucked in your closet, the new bow and arrow next to it. You remember the feeling of warm blood on your hands. 

Even if you must finish the shroud they’ll never get their wishes. No one will rule alongside you and if you must, you’ll take a queen. Perhaps some common woman with nothing better to do; drown her with all the things a queen would desire all the while you continue your duties as king. 

Standing, you close the curtains to the window and grab your sword. It feels like home in your hands, reminders of your time as a warrior of Sparta and then Ithaca. You’ve never forgotten your lessons, the teachings so ingrained in your very being they feel like second nature when you swipe the air. 

It’ll need to be sharpened before tomorrow. 

That night a storm rages on the coast of Ithaca. You watch from the balcony, the wind blowing your hair and clothes as you try to see inside of the storm. Poseidon fights, you can tell that much, and gods, you know in your bones. You know it’s time to set your plan in motion. 

You call a maid to send the news; the Challenge you’d set up after five years of Simon being gone was happening. You rush to gather Simon’s old bow, carefully undoing the string while the servants gather twelve axes from the armory. 

—

“I’ll be back soon,” Johnny promises the next morning. You stand at the pier, watching as he loads onto a boat; about to head off for a mission for the kingdom. 

“I know you will,” You smile, giving him a dagger that he places on his thigh strap. You don’t pretend to notice the group of angry suitors hiding behind ships, watching as you watch your son leave. Leaving you alone for who knows how long, the mission shouldn’t take longer than a day, though. 

As the ship leaves, you look at where the storm had raged, sure that you see a small object floating towards Ithaca shores. You smile, hanging your head before thanking whatever God had allowed him home and return to the castle. The suitors follow, ready for the challenge you’d sent messengers to talk about that morning. You ride your horse back, letting them climb the mountain to the castle as you prepare for what’s to come. 

Their footsteps are heavy, echoing in the halls as a maid guides them to the throne room. You sit at your throne, the half-finished shroud draped over Simon’s throne. His crown sits under it, shining like the first day it was made. A reminder to them and yourself that your husband is out there, that they’ll never sit on that throne as long as you’re alive.

As you look around, you inhale and look over the crowd of men. There are dozens of them, some bigger, some smaller. All of them hungry for power, all of them greedy in a way that makes your stomach turn. 

You stand, shoulders back and head held high as hold back a deep, etching frown. 

“The Challenge,” You start as the murmurs die into a silence that had overtaken the castle all those years ago. You grip the bow, raising it in the air for everyone to see.  “Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through twelve axes cleanly,” Your gaze travels to the axes, lined up in a straight line, the hole only just big enough to allow an arrow to slide through. “Will be the new king and rule with me.” Cheers echo through the halls and you hand the bow to the first suitor before you take your seat. Your throne.

You hope Simon knows that you’re buying him time; that you’ve bought him twenty years of time to return. That he’ll climb the mountain from the shores to the castle before they grow behind restless. Bloodthirsty with one goal on their mind. You hope your son doesn’t come back to see you in such a state if Simon doesn’t make it on time. 

They grow more frustrated as the hours tick by and they find that no one can string the bow. Eventually, the sun sets and you tell them they can try again tomorrow. They all agree, with some grumbles and you take the bow back from a suitor who bares his teeth at you. He resembles a beast, a beast that you don’t dignify with a reaction. 

—

“Screw this competition,” A man that Simon knows all too well, Graves, snarls as he tosses his old bow to the ground. “We’ve been here for hours. None of us can string this; we don’t have the power. Screw this damn challenge!” He rakes his hands through his hair, the stress clear in his actions that make Simon proud. Of course, you’d set up something only he could do, of course, you’d waited all these years for him to return.

“No more delay. Don’t you see that we’ve been played?” Grave’s eyes travel amongst the men crowded around him. Men that are so easily swayed by simple words that it makes Simon seethe. “This is how he holds us down as the throne gets colder. Hold us down as we slowly age. Hold us down while the boy gets bolder.” Grave continues, daring to even hint about Simon and your son. “Where the hell is our pride and our rage?” A couple of the men agree, egged on by each other's stupidity. 

“Here and now,” Another man says as Grave smirks; clearly his plan is working. Like a moth to a flame, they take his bait. “There’s a chance for action; we can take control. Here and now we can burn it to ashes.” Too big for his pants, Simon assumes. 

He leaves for a moment, gathering their weapons and hiding them in the armory, making sure to leave it unlocked before he returns to their conversation. By that point more men had gathered; you’d long since left the throne room so Simon didn’t worry about you hearing their voices any longer. 

“Haven’t you noticed who’s missing? Don’t you notice the prince is not around? I heard he’s on a diplomatic mission and I heard today he's coming back to town.” Grave continues, and crosses his arms over his chest. Simon’s eyes dart down from his place in the room, overlooking the shores of Ithaca as a boat slowly approaches. 

“So…?” A different man speaks from somewhere in the crowd. 

“I say we gather near the beaches. We wait till he arrives, then when he docks his ship I say we breach it. Let us leave now, today we can strike!” Grave doesn’t feel the sharp glare that hits his head as he speaks. Unaware that his words have just set his fate into motion; a fate that Simon has become oh so familiar with these past twenty years. 

“Hold him down, till the boy stops shaking.”

He counts the men; seventy in total. 

“Hold him down, while I slit his throat.”

He’s taken down worse. More. 

“Hold him down, while I slowly break his pride, his trust, his faith, and his bones!”

He can’t wait to watch them bleed. The feeling of their blood on his hands; something he hadn’t realized could feel so good until now. He wanted to chase it like they plan on chasing you and your son.

“Cut him down into tiny pieces. Throw him down in the great below that way when the crown wonders where the prince is only the ocean and I will know.” 

Watch their light leave their eyes; hear their screams. Beg him to spare them. The gurgling sound as they choke on their own blood.

“And when it’s done,” Grace smirks. “The king will have no one to stop us from breaking his bedroom door. Stop us from taking his love and more. And then we’ll…”

He’ll savor Graves the most, he quickly decides. He won’t dignify him with a fast death. He’ll hurt him, hold him down, and break his bones. He’ll drag him by his legs into town, parading him around to not only show he’s home to his throne, to his husband and his son but to show that anyone who had thought any different will face the same consequences. 

“Hold him down.”

“While the gate is open.”

“Hold him down.”

“While I get a taste and we share his spoils. I will not let any part go to waste.” 

He rises from his spot, his hand a deathly grip on his knife as the men try to leave the halls, one of them pointedly staggering behind. Drunk on wine. The perfect way to announce himself. 

He doesn’t waste a second, stabbing the man in the throat and he watches as he gurgles on his own blood as he returns to his perfectly hidden spot. He watches with glee as the light leaves his eyes, staring down at him as his body goes limp. 

The men stop at the door, having heard the noise. When they turn they only see a dead man and then nothing around him. Quicker than they can react, the torches around them snuff out one by one, and then the door behind them locks. Like rats they scramble, searching frantically on the ground for anything they can use to defend themselves. 

“Twenty years,” Simon growls. “I suffered from the wrath of Gods and monsters to the screams of my comrades. Watched my men die like cattle. I come back to my palace, desecrated and sacked like Troy. Worst of all,” He reaches into the darkness, grabbing a random man who shouts, tugging at Simon’s wrist to be let go. 

“I hear you dare to touch my husband and hurt my boy! I… have had… enough.” He snaps the man’s neck in three motions before stepping over his now limp body as he watches the men scramble in the dark. He supposes he should thank Calypso for living on such a dark island, now he can watch them as they scramble for torches. Lighting them with the nearby lighters. 

He grabs his bow, stringing it with ease while the others run in the castle. The darkness that shrouds them is emphasized by the setting sun. Simon struts after them, listening to their footsteps and breathing like a predator. 

“We have the advantage; we’ve the numbers and the might.” A man says, clearly not knowing who he’s up against.

“No!” Shouts a man who does, he wonders if they fought together before. Somehow that makes him all the more angry as he grabs an arrow from his quiver. “You don’t understand! This man plans for every fight.” An arrow flies through the air, stabbing him through the neck and the others shout, watching as he drops and the torch rolls away from his limp hand. Everyone scrambles away, fleeing down the hall. 

“Where is he? Where is he?” Someone shouts, his eyes as wide as they can go and he looks into the darkness. 

“Keep your heads down, he's aiming for the torches!” Someone else hisses and they all duck, holding the torches as high as they can manage without dropping it. 

“Our weapons! They’re missing!” Simon grins at the fear in the man’s tone, stringing another arrow. 

“We’re empty-handed,” Someone says, the realization that they’re fucked dawning on him. “Up against an archer.” He mutters, looking around the dark room. 

“Our only chance is to strike him in the darkness. We know these halls our odds can be titled.” Someone tries to comfort him before flinching at the sound of Simon’s snicker. 

“You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it!” Another arrow flies, hitting a man in the head. He walks after them as they run away. 

“It’s the old king!”

“No! Our leader is dead!” 

“Old king forgive us!”

“Let’s have open arms instead!” He stops walking, notching yet another arrow as he’s reminded of Gaz. His chest tightens when he remembers his friend, his brother. 

“No,” The arrow flies, he doesn’t care to see who it lands inside of. He knows Graves isn’t with this group and heads the other way; towards where he’d hidden their weapons. He’ll deal with the others later, for now only one person has a giant target on their back.

“Dammit,” Grave hisses as he opens the door to the armory. “He’s more cunning than I thought. While we were plotting he hid our weapons in here.” He waves the torch through the room, each weapon highlighted by the burning flame. 

“I find it hard to believe that the sharpest of kings left his armory unlocked,” A man mutters, his frantic eyes looking outside of the room because he knows what’s out there, waiting for him. 

“So what?” Grave scoffs as he grabs his sword. “Let’s make the bastard rot.”

“Behind you!” He spins, watching as Simon stabs a man through the chest with a sword, his piercing eyes glaring at Graves over the man’s shoulder. The man collapses to the floor while Simon takes the sword out, flicking the blood onto the walls. 

“Put the weapons down and I’ll spare you,” He tells the men and immediately they do but Graves doesn’t. Simon tilts his head, eyes flickering to the ten men around Graves. 

“How do you dare? Haven’t you seen what he’ll do to us?” Someone asks him, his hands held up in fear.

“The prince!” Someone shouts and Simon makes the mistake of looking behind him. The men in the armory jump on his back without hesitation, shouting to attack the prince that way he’ll have to stand down. Simon struggles against them, his sword clattering to the ground when he sees the torches illuminating his son. 

He chokes as he sees his son falling to the ground, scrambling to his dagger that had gotten thrown in the fight. 

“Stop struggling and we’ll show you mercy,” Grave whispers in Simon’s ear, holding his hair in an iron-tight grip. 

“Mercy?” A voice cuts and Simon feels blood running down his cloak. He hears the sound of someone being impaled and then another in quick succession. The weight on his back lessens and he charges forward. 

“Mercy?” Simon bellows, taking harsh steps toward the now-fallen Graves. Unable to find his footing again as more men die around him. “My mercy long since drowned. It died to bring me home. And as long as you're around my family's fate is left unknown. You plotted to kill my son.” In one motion he scoops Graves up, bringing him to his feet and then against the wall. The tip of his blade presses against the man’s neck as his eyes squeeze shut, feet trying to find purchase aside from the tips of his toes on the cold marble floors. 

“You planned to rape my husband! All of you are going to die!” He stabs Graves six times, huffing as the body slumps against him and then against the wall when Simon shoves him away. 

He stands tall, listening to the shouts of the scared, trapped men as their fates quickly find them. He knows who is fighting at his side; he knows so well but he doesn’t register it until everyone is dead. Until the torches line the walls and he sees his foes splayed on the floors. 

“Father?” The sword in his hand clatters to the ground as he spins around. Johnny stands where he was once pinned down, blood dusting his tunic and his face. None of which is his own, Simon thanks the gods for that fact.

“Son,” His voice cracks as he takes a step forward. His chest heaves as he looks at his boy, and how he’s grown into a man. Johnny rushes forward, pulling him into a hug. 

“I’ve waited my whole life for you. Twenty years,” He cries into Simon’s chest, his sobs growing as he feels his father's tight embrace. 

“Oh my son, look how much you’ve grown,” He whispers, fighting back his own tears. “Oh, my boy. My sweetest joy. I captured the wind and sky for you.”

“My son, I'm finally home.” He finally cries, looking at his son's face for the first time in twenty years. He sees you in him, he sees himself. Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s, holding the back of his neck as he cries. He cries and he weeps, relief, something he hasn’t felt in years, floods his body as all of the suffering he’s endured has been worth it. 

“My love?” He hates to look away but he does, his chest tight when he sees you removing your helmet. Your sword stuck in some man’s chest as your feet carried you across the hall and into his arms. 

He calls you, your name falling from his lips and you cry into his neck. You’d nearly forgotten the sound of it on his tongue. 

“Is it you?” You ask, pushing away from him after the initial shock. He’d warned you all those years ago, not to trust anyone who looked like him. He knew the Gods and their tricks; you knew them, too. “Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming again?” 

“I am no’ the man you fell in love with,” He admits as your eyes scan over him. You pick apart everything about him that’s changed over the years as doubt creeps in the back of your mind. “I am not the man you once adored; I am not your kind and gentle husband and I am not the love you knew before.” You frown as he takes your hands, falling to his knees before looking up at you. With a gaze, you tell Johnny to leave the two of you for now. 

“Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I’ve done? The things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you’ve been waiting for love.” He begs, his bleary eyes unable to look at anything but you.

You nod, holding his face before guiding him up to his feet. “What kind of things did you do?” His head dips down in shame as the two of you move to stand outside in your garden. Free of blood and bodies as you sit under the olive tree he’d planted for you all those years ago. 

“Left a trail of blood on every island. I traded friends as though they were objects. Hurt more lives than I can count. But all so I could come back to you.” He cries, holding your face, his cries growing as you lean into the touch. “Tell me, please. Would you fall in love with me again?” 

“If that’s true,” You start, moving his hand from your face and he falters, eyes darting between yours as if they’ll reveal your choice before your voice does. “Could you do me a favor?” 

“Anything,” He nods. 

“Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace. See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far from here?” You ask, your eyes darting between his own as you wait. Wait as you’ve done for twenty long years. 

“How could you say this?” He asks, his hand moving from your face. “I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. Carved it into the olive tree where we first met. A symbol of our love everlasting! Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots!” He shouts, almost standing due to the anger bubbling in him. 

“Only my husband knew that!” You sob, holding his hands again. “You’re real! My Gods, you’re real!” He calls your name as you shudder. You shake your head, pulling him close as your hands search his body, holding him impossibly close. 

“I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don’t care how, where, or when. No matter how long it’s been. You’re mine. Don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband and I’ve been waiting for you!” He blinks, brushing your tears from your face before he kisses you. 

You crumble under his touch, your hands shaking as you cradle his face. He holds you tightly, pressing your armored chest flush against himself. You pull away first, tucking his now long blonde hair behind his ears to see his face properly. 

—

You don’t get a chance to admire the new Simon, not between the kissing and his insisting that you share the bed with Johnny for the night. You agree, of course, the two of you squishing Simon while he happily holds the two of you in his arms as the night draws on. 

Simon wakes up first, he’s gotten so used to being forced to share a bed with Calypso that he’d made his body wake up early to escape her. He looks at you and Johnny for a while, softly crying as he knows he’s home. Eventually, he gets up, hating the way the two of you whimper at the lost feeling between the two of you. 

He doesn’t venture far, just far enough to grab a bowl of water and a blade. Settling in front of a mirror, he shaves his face for the first time since he set out to Troy and then cuts his hair. He’s never seen his grey hairs before. Despite knowing that he was aging while he was out there he hadn’t realized he was aging. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he certainly didn’t look it either. 

He has scars on his face, he has grey hairs, he has the starts of wrinkles, eye bags— he could list them for hours. 

He looks back at you as you sleep. At your grey hairs, at your wrinkles and he smiles. You’re just as beautiful as the day he met you. 

Stepping towards the window he sees the castle workers dragging the bodies out of the castle and into a carriage. Tossing them unceremoniously and he makes his way down. 

“Load them and wait. Do not touch them any further,” He tells one of the maids without looking at her, his gaze locked on the men who had dared to try and defile his family. “Send word to the people of Ithaca. Meet at the pier by noon.” She nods, waiting to be dismissed by the king but he turns on his heel and returns to your room. 

You’re awake, rubbing your eyes as your sleepwear slips from your shoulder. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks, crawling into the bed and kissing the exposed skin. You roll your head at the feeling, holding the back of his head to keep him in place. 

“No,” You murmur, head against his. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too,” He pulls you onto his lap and you let him, too tired to fight back as he lays down again. “Trust me, ‘m not leaving ever again.”

“I like the sound of that,” You yawn, rubbing Johnny’s hair as he reaches out for the two of you. “We need to get up, though. Clean the halls,” 

“Already taken care of, love.” You hum, head resting on his bare chest, fingers tracing against his skin.

“You cut your hair,” You point out. 

“Mhmm, like it?” 

“Ask me later; ‘m too tired.” He chuckles and pets your cheek with his knuckles. 

“Rest my love, I’m not going anywhere.” 

The next time you wake up, he’s engrossed in a conversation with Johnny. He’s still holding you, but now it’s sitting up on the bed while Johnny all but bounces around the room. He talks about his own adventures with Athena, how he’d almost beat up Graves this one time, how you always kept a place for him. He talks about the stories he grew up hearing about the great King Simon of Ithaca. 

Simon listens, committing his son's voice to memory while he inhales the smell of your hair. 

A knock at the door stops their conversation and Simon calls for whoever it is to come in as he pulls the blanket over your body. 

“It is nearly noon, King Simon.” 

“Thank you,” He nods, watching the door close before he looks down at you. “How long have you been awake?” He chides upon seeing your very much awake eyes on him. 

“Long enough,” You respond but make no action to move. “What’s at noon?”

“You’ll see.” He lifts you with ease, picking himself up in the process and you laugh, holding onto his shoulders while Johnny gags and rushes out of the room. 

In the tub, Simon sits first, letting you slowly sit with him before he kisses you. His lips and teeth pull and suck at the skin of your neck while you coo, squeezing his shoulders. The cold water wakes you up more than the kisses do, but when his hand dives between your legs you swear you’re more than awake. 

“Mmm-mm,” You shake your head as you reluctantly push his hands away, he pouts but doesn’t fight it. “I want it to be in bed. To reclaim it,” His pupils dilate at the idea, you feel his pulse against his wrist and you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I can do that,” He nods, instead moving his hands to start washing the two of you. 

The two of you dress together in your finest tunics, adorning yourselves in the royal jewelry and colors before getting Johnny from his room. Again, Simon finds himself between the two of you as you head down to your horses. Even more so when you’re all squished into a chariot. 

The wagon of dead bodies follows behind you, the smell of death present as the townspeople watch. People gasp at the sight of Simon, and whispers of the long-since departed king's return echo throughout Ithaca. 

Simon steps onto the platform, bringing you up with him and you stand next to him while Johnny stands in front of the two of you. 

He starts a speech, making a point about the dead men. He talks of the disrespect to his house– to his family. He dares someone else to try to ruin his family, to hurt his son, his husband. He declares himself back, the two kings of Ithaca ruling again. Merciful, he calls the act of bloodshed the two of you had committed the night before. He calls the men’s mothers, their fathers, their wives, their children. He tells them they can weave their funeral shroud for them. Or else he’ll burn them to keep your room warm. 

He watches as they collect their sons, their husbands, and their fathers. He holds you close, fingers a bruising grip against your waist. 

The two of you head back; Johnny stays behind to venture around the kingdom. You think it’s so the two of you can be alone for a little while. 

—

“I’ve missed you, husband,” Simon says, his head between your legs. He’s thrown them over his shoulders, his hands kneading the flesh of your stomach. He’s dreamt of this sight for two decades and yearned to dive his head between your legs again. Savoring the taste, feeling the way you’d clench around him. 

“I’ve missed you, husband,” You parrot, reaching down to hold his chin. He leans into the warm touch, eyes closing as he savors it. You trail your hand up, holding his hair as he dives down. You gasp when he presses his tongue flat against you, slowly dragging up and down while watching you. 

“I’m yours,” He murmurs, pressing sloppy kisses against your warmth while you twitch under his hold. “Only yours.” You pant, holding the cotton sheets for a reprise as his tongue makes figure eights around you, how he sucks and nips at your sensitive bud. He moves, sliding a finger into you; his eyes stuck on your face as your back arches. It’s an adjustment, just as it had been the first time you’d done this. 

Your body had almost forgotten the feeling of his fingers inside of you, how skillful they’d been during your marriage. How he knew your body inside and out, what points to press on, and how fast to go. He maintains a rhythm that makes you cry, your arm across your eyes as you try to compose yourself. Not let yourself come undone so fast. 

“Simon,” You breathe, trying to get to your elbows but he starts moving his finger. He's pushing and pulling, curling inside of you and it makes you fall back on the bed. He shudders, that tone in your voice, that feeling on his finger, the taste on his tongue. It’s all he’s ever wanted; it’s what kept him going all these years. “I need you,” You cry, eyes closed as your stomach tightens. He adds another finger, the added pressure makes your jaw drop. 

“You have me,” He swears. “Look at me, please,” You try, honestly you do, but the tightness reaches a high and your eyes screw shut. Your fingers tighten around his hair, your voice echoes in the room and Simon feels you clench around him. He almost laughs, not because it hadn’t taken much to push you to the edge but because he’d already come. It hadn’t taken anything, all it took was you saying his name and he spilled into the bedsheets. 

“You okay, moon?” He asks while crawling on top of you, his lips leaving scattered kisses across your body. You nod, face blissed out and eyes watery. “Can you take another?” 

“I can take a million more,” You breathe and he laughs, head dropping between your neck. You laugh along, legs raising as he bites your skin. He moves so he’s holding himself up with one hand, his other grabs his dick as it hardens again. 

“You sure?” He asks and you nod, kissing his shoulder. 

“I can take it,” You moan, feeling the tip move across your folds. It slips and prods before he eventually pushes inside in one fluid motion. Your back arches, pushing your chest against his as he fills you. 

“Full, ‘m so full,” You pant against him and he nods, moving your hair from your face. 

“Full ‘n’ tight f’ me, yeah?” He teases, slowly rolling his hips against yours. He relishes in watching your expressions, how your mouth drops open and you’re unable to control the sounds you make. “Waited so long f’ me, didn’t you?” As he’s speaking, he raises up from you, his right hand holding your stomach down while the left starts rubbing soft circles on your clit. “So patient, my love. Thank you.” 

His eyes dip down, looking at the bulge in your stomach as he slowly enters and exits you. He moans at the sight, eyes closing for a brief moment as he begins to pick up pace. You struggle to look at him, one hand holding the wooden headboard behind you while the other loosely holds the wrist that’s circling you. 

“Missed you s’much,” He moans. “Missed all of you.” He slurs, leaning down to kiss you. He bites your bottom lip before his lips capture yours, his hips pressing against your own with each thrust. “Gods, you’re so tight.” He grunts as he pulls away, moving your left leg to be over his shoulder while the right leg sits at his hip. He speeds up, twitching as your moans only grow louder. Your nails drag against his chest and circle to his back. 

He feels his scars under your nails, the sensitive skin prickling hot as you open his flesh. He hisses, the pain far easier to manage than anything he’s faced while away but so different. So loving. 

“Inside me,” You moan, finally able to look at him as you bite your bottom lip. It’s throbbing from the pain of him biting it but you don’t care. “Inside me, Si, please.”

“Who am I to deny you, my king?” He grins and then drops his head down to your neck, feeling your walls tighten around him. You hear him whimper and moan against you and it only eggs you on. He’d chased that feeling for years, spilling inside of you as your high starts approaching. He continues for you, continuing his bruising pace until your body stops moving, your mouth falls open and your breathing goes ragged. Tenderly, as he always used to do, Simon holds you close to him. Your head rests against his chest so you can listen and feel his heart beating against your ear. 

His hand stops circling your clit as he slowly pulls out from inside you. The sounds that come from him and you spur him on more but he contains himself. Instead, he watches as his cum leaks from you. On instinct, he pushes it back inside, loving the way your legs twitch when he does. 

“Do you need a break?” He asks, eyeing the sweat on your brow. You inhale, thinking about it before shaking your head. 

“I can take more,” You swear and he raises his eyebrow. “Please, Simon.” 

“Your wish is my command.”

[starboye]

loser!choso who cant even fuck you because he cant fit inside you wet folds, his tip is just slipping all over that he cant get it in, and oh lord he's so embarrassed, a slight shade of red layered on his cheeks as he looks down at your giggling face

he was full on freaking out in his head as he embarrassed himself even more, his hands all shaky and shit while he tried to get his tip in but it just slides right across "you okay choso" you ask all sweet and giggly and that just drives him insane even more

"yeah it's just i cant really get it in" he huffs out giving up and with soft movements you push him on his back and you get on top of him, his warm length standing tall as you jerk him off a little "want me to do it" you ask with a smirk and he shyly nods

his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest as you slid him inside you, his breath caught in his throat while he tried to no cum to fast in you but it was a lost cause when you started rutting your hips back and forth

his eyes flickering to the back of his head as he spills his load into you, he tries to stammer out an excuse but he's silenced by you lips touching his before you start riding him again "don't worry, that's only the first of many" you say and choso can feel his dick twitch back to life

[asthronauta]

BEST FRIENDS FUCK EACH OTHER│Barty Crouch Jr × Male Reader [NSFW].

Summary: [Y/N] always wanted to fuck his best friend. And Barty wouldn't shut up. He had to do something about it.

Warnings: Sex with no plot, basically. Ftm (trans) male reader, use of words like pussy, clit, pussy lips and basically shameless talking about it. Unprotected sex, Blow job, Fingering, Pussy eating, Cum in mouth, Cum in pussy, Dirty talk, Begging to be filled, Use of the words good boy & bitch, Public kind of thing? Enjoy 😋

Also, [N/N] means nickname. It can be the shorter version of your name or wtv you want.

Btw, english is not my first language so there might be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Barty was so fucking annoying.

Look, Hogwarts was beautiful and magical and huge but the exams were actually terrifying. You did not want to fail an exam. That's why [Y/N] found the most sought-after corner of the library to study. Which was, in fact, the place he always used to pick. A hidden table in the back plus the late hours of the night that occurred were the perfect combination to study without interruptions. Or, that's how it was supposed to be. But Barty fucking Crouch chased him. Which was actually shit because now his secret place wasn't secret anymore and now he'll have to find a new place where he could find some peace and some quiet.

Bartemius Crouch Junior. The most annoying person [Y/N] ever met and also his best friend. Yeah, that's how things worked. In first year Barty used to chase him everywhere and [Y/N] used to hide from him. Well, some things never change. — It was probably three in the morning and [Y/N] was actually worried about his exam, but Barty just wouldn't shut his mouth. It was nothing new but [Y/N] really needed for him to shut the fuck up.

Barty Junior created his own fame. - He knew perfectly well the image people had of him and he revelled in it. He knew the effect he had on people and it inflated his ego in a way he adored. No one escaped it; not even the teachers. Not even [Y/N]. — At first they were children; of course they had no feelings for each other, but as the years went by, the sexual tension grew. Because Barty fucking Crouch was just too hot and the worst thing was that he knew it perfectly well. It was fucking annoying. So [Y/N] really meant it when he blurted-

“If I suck your cock you'll shut the fuck up?”

It was the kind of proposal that if you didn't accept; it was just a joke, but if you did accept..

Barty was sitting in front of him and [Y/N] saw the look on his face when his brain registered what he said. There was a second of silence where Barty looked at him with genuine surprise. Searching in [Y/N] for a trace of it being a lie and when he didn't find it a smirk began to grow on his stupid face. And that was when [Y/N] realized everything went to hell because he was fucking serious and Barty too.

“Is that a bribe?”

The words slipped from his mouth with an air of amusement. [Y/N] had no idea why every word that came out of Barty's mouth made him utterly mad. I mean, they were supposed to be best friends. But every sound Barty made was a reason why [Y/N] wanted to sew his lips together, and that's been happening more often lately. Maybe because Barty was hooking up with more and more people and [Y/N] couldn't stand to have him around anymore. And maybe a 'please shut up' would have worked just right but [Y/N] already walked into the lion's den and oh, Barty wasn't going to let him go.

“Take it as you wish” There was no way [Y/N] was turning back now. Barty would tease him for life if he did. - He was already at the dance; now he had to dance.

Barty looked at him. Smirking. Smirking at [Y/N]'s face cause he knew he already won. “Do it, and I'll stay quiet.”

Yeah, fuck.

•

•

•

•

[Y/N] wasn't an angel; but he never thought he'd fuck his best friend. I mean, not that it would ever really happen. Because fuck he'd fantasized about that thousand of times. - He was always curious. Can you blame him? He was surrounded by hot people. Anyone in his place would speculate about how his classmates' dicks were like. And Barty dripped with sexual energy. And [Y/N] was just a boy.

Barty was no longer sitting but standing, leaning on the table, looking down at [Y/N] who was kneeling on the library floor. Fuck, what the hell was he doing? he was on his knees about to suck his best friend's cock and he was getting so wet already. And Barty still had all his clothes on. He was literally salivating as he undid Barty's belt - he didn't know he wanted this that much.

Barty didn't say a word. Finally what [Y/N] wanted but fuck he was so nervous he needed Barty to say something stupid. - He had no idea what was going through Bartemius' mind and his own kept going at the speed of light as he undid the zip of Barty's pants, finally catching a glimpse of his underwear. — He was avoiding Barty's eyes but he could tell he was looking at him. At his every move. And he thought he saw a slight, almost invisible blush on the other boy's cheeks.

He was nervous as fuck but Barty didn't have to know that. So when his pants were off [Y/N] was quick to pull down Barty's underwear in one go. And Jesus Christ Barty was big. And hard. So hard it was already standing in front of his face as if his cock was fucking pointing at him. — Fuck, he has a good one [Y/N] bit his lip to prevent that unforgivable phrase from leaving his mouth. - His pussy soaked, staining his underwear. He could feel the wetness between his pressed together thighs. As if his body knew that maybe that thing would enter him soon and that made him blush so damn much because fuck he wanted that thing in his pussy

He took it in his hand, first. He heard the way Barty gasped and how his body tensed and it sent a shiver down his spine. He began to stroke. Up and down. From the tip to the base. His eyes trailing over the tattoo on Barty's hip that ran down to his cock; a snake. Feeling the soft skin on his palm and the veins. Squeezing. Feeling how hard the muscle was. “Yes, just like that” Barty muttered and [Y/N] swallowed the saliva that was gathering in his mouth. He never heard that tone in Barty's voice before and it was doing things to him. — Eventually Barty began to buck his hips against [Y/N]'s hand, fucking that tight, warm grip around his length. [Y/N] was having trouble since he was mesmerized by the scene in front of him so Barty reached down, encircling [Y/N]'s wrist with his hand and keeping his grip still as he fucked it. Barty groaned. [Y/N] could feel the way the muscle tensed and the veins stood out. “Fuck... That's it.. you're good with that little hand of yours” [Y/N] almost groaned at that.

“Barty, fuck” he moaned. Almost pitifully. Because he couldn't believe his best friend was saying those nasty things to him. And he was being a slut for it. There was no words to describe it just fuck. It felt so fucking wrong but also so damn good. — Barty began to move faster. His breathing quickening. As if he wanted to cum. His grip on [Y/N]'s wrist tightened and [Y/N] didn't care to tell him to stop. Because fuck he didn't want him to stop. “Ah, yes, fuck... You're gonna make me cum soon” Barty gasped. [Y/N] sighed. Tempted to rub himself against something because his already soaked pussy was crying out for some attention. He could feel how damn sensitive his clit got.

Barty was close. That thought gave him chills because he could see it. Right in front of him. And it was him who was giving Barty that pleasure. It was him that Barty was so eager for. [Y/N] could see how Barty's swollen, red cocktip bobbed in and out of his fist. Moving tantalizingly closer and then away from his face. He had a close-up of how the tip became wetter and wetter, leaking with precum that eventually ran down to his hand and then to the floor. “Wait” he gasped. Fuck. It must be salty, he thought. He didn't give a fuck. He couldn't let Barty's cum on the floor. It was his; he was causing it. He couldn't let it on the damn floor. “I want it in my mouth”

“Atta boy” Barty growled and [Y/N] almost came. He leaned down, closing his eyes dreamily before taking the wet tip into his mouth. “Ah, fuck” Barty hissed, feeling every swirl and suck as [Y/N] lapped his precum. One of his hands held tight on the edge of the table while the other found its way to [Y/N]'s hair. Squeezing the strands between his fingers. Getting a proper grip that left the other boy's head immobile; just so Barty could move freely. - He pushed the rest of his cock into that eager mouth. Well-, half. Cause Barty didn't get to sink completely when he felt his cockhead hit the back of [Y/N]'s throat. “Oh yes fuck” Barty gasped, looking down to find [Y/N]'s eyes looking up at him. “Mhm.. this is what you wanted, right?” He hummed as he began to move slowly. Tentatively bumping against the back of [Y/N]'s throat, gradually sinking deeper. “Fuck [N/N], I can't believe I'm fucking your mouth” [Y/N] sighed on Barty's cock at that. The fact that Barty was using his nickname only made him feel guiltier and hornier.

He was trying; relaxing his throat, letting Barty dictate the pace. He didn't want to disappoint him. That morning they were having breakfast with Reg and Evan; as they had been doing for years. Who would have thought that by the end of the day Barty would be fucking his mouth. — [Y/N] closed his eyes; and Barty saw it as a sign to let go. He began to fuck his mouth properly; urging, pushing [Y/N]'s head closer as his hips moved in and out of that wet mouth. “Fuck yes, take it” he hissed, pressing his lips together. Frowning as he felt himself getting closer to cumming in his best friend's mouth. “Fuck [N/N], you're making me fucking close for you, fuck... ” he was trying to keep his voice down; although the library was empty the place echoed and maybe a fucking prefect would come to spoil his little fun here. “Yes.. you like that, don't you? Having me deep into that pretty little mouth of yours,” He looked down, only to chuckle when he saw [Y/N]'s helpless face as he choked on his cock. “Fuck, look at you... I didn't know you were such a slut for my cock, [N/N].”

He began to pound, holding [Y/N]'s head with both hands as he hit the back of his throat over and over. His balls hitting [Y/N]'s chin every time. “Fuck [N/N] I'm cumming inside your mouth-” Barty cried before he came. Moaning as he pressed [Y/N]'s head hard against his pelvis. Squeezing his locks as he began to feel the spurts coming out, hitting the back of [Y/N]'s throat as he filled his mouth up. “Oh yes oh fuck” he cried as he stayed still. Letting every drop out deep into [N/N]'s mouth.

Barty's cock slipped out [Y/N]'s soaked, swollen lips only when he made sure [Y/N] swallowed it all. [N/N] coughed, gasping for air. Drool dripping down his chin. Eyes tearing and the messiest Barty had ever seen him. Barty came in his mouth. Barty came in his mouth and he swallowed it all as the slut he was for his cock. He couldn't believe he just did that. He couldn't believe he let things go to hell like that. What the fuck did he just do? There was no turning back after this. His friendship with Barty would never be the same again.

“Fucking hell [N/N]” Barty chuckled. Triumphant smile on his face. As if he didn't give a damn about what just happened. “I didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth there, fuck.. I came so hard for you” he grabbed his spend cock shamelessly. Stroking it lazily as he stared at [Y/N]'s helpless form. Trying to catch his breath. A sticky mess between his legs. Barty's smile grew bigger. “Now what's up, [N/N]? Did the mice eat your tongue? It was me the one supposed to keep quiet”

“Shut up Barty”

“That's my boy” Barty approved as he watched [Y/N] stand back up, Barty quickly wrapping an arm around his lower back and pulling him into a hungry kiss. Saliva, tongue, teeth and the salty taste of Barty's cum in between. Muffled moans from both of them and Barty's thick snake pressing against [Y/N]. “Barty” [Y/N] moaned against his mouth. Not stopping kissing for a second. His arms wrapped helplessly around Barty's neck while his were wrapped around [Y/N] as well. “Ah- Barty-” He gasped his name like a mantra. Unable to believe what that name meant now; the name of the man he was so eager for. The man he needed so bad. No longer the name of his best friend but the name of the person he wanted to be pounded dumb by on the library table. “Barty please-”

“What do you want baby?” Barty muttered against his mouth. Tight grip on the other boy's waist. “Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you”

“Want you-” He gasped. Barty's mouth was too good to let go. “Want you in my pussy Barty please fuck me.”

[Y/N] felt the vibration against his mouth as Barty groaned deeply. As if those words awakened something wild in him. “You want that?” He tested, speaking between kisses. Catching the other's lip between his teeth. “Mhmm, I can do that for you, baby, but you have to promise me something” He pulled away to look at him. Green eyes dark, deep. He cupped [Y/N]'s face with one hand; it wasn't tender, it was rather possessive. Firm. Squeezing his cheeks. “Once I get into that tight little pussy of yours, there won't be turning back, baby” he said, shaking his head as he spoke “I won't stop 'til I cum deep inside. Nowhere else, yeah? Just deep inside your pussy. Is that alright? Are you okay with that?”

And how could he refuse such a generous offer?

He nodded. Heart eyes on Barty. “That's a good boy” he said, letting go of him “Now be a sweetheart and bent over on the table for me. I want to pound that slutty pussy from behind” [N/N] did. Because at this point he would do anything for Barty. — Barty pushed his pants down carelessly. Baring [Y/N]'s ass and needy pussy to the air. “Oh, look at that” Barty mockered, [Y/N]'s face turned red. “You're leaking wet for me [N/N]” Barty's hand shamelessly wandered down there and tested the slit, his fingertips gliding easily over the lubricated area. [Y/N]'s whole body trembled. Letting out a shaky, needy gasp. Barty didn't stop. Tracing up and down until suddenly pushing one finger inside. “Holly shit” Barty cursed over [Y/N]'s moan because he took that finger way too fucking good. Sliding in easily like a wet, slick little mouth - his cock spasmed with interest. “Fucking shit [N/N] you took that finger so fucking good baby” he praised, feeling how [N/N] throbbed and squeezed around his finger “You're a wet little bitch, aren't you?” he purred. Biting his lip as he moved his finger in and out, watching as [Y/N]'s wetness soaked his ring. Getting out of him those tiny little moans he liked. He slipped out; sucking his finger clean. “Mhm, that cherry tastes good” he hummed. So damn naughty. [Y/N]'s face was bright red and he couldn't do anything but let Barty use his body. “Need to have a taste of that before going in, don't you think?”

[Y/N] could hear the smirk on Barty's face; he didn't need to see him. He was about to turn to look as him but he didn't manage to when he felt Barty's face buried deep in his ass. Tongue lapping at his pussy juices. He moaned, a moan that echoed in the empty library and stirred the candlelight. “Barty-!” his gasp died in a shaky cry, feeling how Barty fucking Crouch caught his pussy lips between his lips. Sucking them. Gently biting them— He was in heaven, with the stars and the moon. Barty was eating him like he meant it. Tongue moving everywhere. Lapping at his sloppy hole, guitar-playing with his clit. He could fucking feel the metal of Barty's tongue piercing on his pussy and he was about to-

Barty pulled away. [Y/N] almost cried at that. He was about to protest when he suddenly felt Barty's thick, wet tip resting against his hole. “Barty-” he gasped. Okay, this was really happening. “I'm going to fuck you” Barty groaned. An statement; not a question. [Y/N] sighed almost in fear. Barty was there; just one move away from penetrating him and fucking him bareback. Of crossing a line from which they couldn’t return. — Barty was holding his heavy cock aligned with [Y/N]'s helpless pussy hole. Stroking it. His other hand teasing his balls lightly. He was fully hard again already. Leaking. [Y/N] could feel the swollen tip pressing just a tiny bit in. He fucking mewled. Barty's leaking cockhead was splitting his tender lips apart. He needed him inside.

“Barty- Barty please, you're killing–”

The words choked in his throat as Barty plunged his cock all the way in.

“Fucking take it” [Y/N] let out a pitiful moan. Almost a whimper. As Barty took a hold of his hips. Starting to roll his almost desperately from the start. “Oh you fucking tight bitch you're squeezing me like crazy” Barty groaned, pounding. His balls slapping against [Y/N]'s untouched clit. [Y/N] was speechless. Not even moaning at first as he felt the slight burn and huge presence of Barty in his pussy. His legs were weak - it was thick. So thick. He could feel it stretching him so much he couldn't help but clench around it. Barty was being so damn rough; no mercy for his tender pussy that was taking him so deep. “Yes-” [Y/N]'s little moan went unnoticed under the thuds that echoed through the place.

“You're not letting me go, are you? Fuck, you're slick as hell baby-” Barty moaned. Biting his lip as he threw his head back. Closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of fucking that small, slippery pussy for a second. Barty knew he was big but [Y/N] was fucking tight. Squeezing his cock like he wanted to fucking suffocate him. A tiny, slippery tunnel that Barty was ravaging. “Fuck, look at us” he said, looking back down to see how [N/N]’s pussy hole was stretched open around his cock. Swallowing it all like the good boy he was. Letting Barty go balls deep with every plunge. “You’re taking me so good baby fuck you were made for me [N/N]” He licked his lips, saliva filling his mouth. His eyes locked on their union. On the way his cock moved in and out of that welcoming cunt. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m fucking your pussy” he shivered, thrusts getting messier. “Fuck [N/N] I’m fucking fucking you- fuck-” Barty leaned down. Pressing his chest on [Y/N]'s back as he pounded deeper. One hand palm open on the table and the other holding tightly to [Y/N]'s hip. Keeping him in place. - His lips searched for [Y/N]'s lips with closed eyes and found them. Tongues dancing as Barty didn't stop his rhythm.

“So good” Barty gasped “Fuck, so good. Your pussys so good” he hummed against [Y/N]'s ear, pounding impossibly deep and hard. Getting little 'ah, ah, ah's out of [Y/N] with every thrust. “Barty-” “[N/N]” Barty moaned back as he pounded against [Y/N]'s arched back. Holding him impossibly close. “Beg for me baby, beg for my cock” he moaned helplessly, leaning down to nip and suck at [Y/N]'s neck as he relentlessly pounded into him.

“Barty please” He blurted messily. Feeling like his clit rubbed against the edge of the table. Swollen and unattended. But he wasn't going to touch it. His clit was burning with need but he wanted to cum just from Barty's cock alone. And he was close already. He could feel it. And he could also feel Barty's cock throbbing and leaking inside. He was going to come. “Please- Inside. Not pulling out, fuck, Barty. Please fill me up-”

Barty let out a low, dark chuckle from the back of his throat against the skin of [Y/N]'s neck. Pulling away. Standing again as he looked down at him. “You want every last bit of me inside that cute little hungry pussy of yours, don't you?” he asked with a low, dangerous tone. Hands gripping [Y/N]'s waist almost painfully as he began to hammer again. “You'll have it.. mhmm fuck yes I'm cumming inside you”

“Oh god fucking thank you,” [Y/N] cried. Legs shaking as he was so damn close.

“Oh yes that's a good boy, you like having your best friend's cock pounding your pussy don't you? Fuck I'm coming-” Barty gasped. He was a mess. He could feel his swollen tip hitting the bottom of [Y/N]'s insides and it was just too much. He squeezed [Y/N] tight as he began to pound fucking deep. The table shaking. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, baby I'm coming- oh, oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck-” Barty moaned pitifully before burying himself all the way in. As deep as he could go. His body pressed against [Y/N]'s. “Inside-” he managed to cry as he began to unload. Thick, heavy spurts of creamy babies began to shoot out with each spasm of his cock, deep inside that pussy. “Oh shit” he whimpered as if he was in pain; body tense and stiff as his thick load was planted. Letting out a muffled moan the moment he felt [Y/N] cumming just as his cum began to fill him. Milking him.

The moment Barty finished unloading his body fell exhausted on top of [Y/N]. Breathing hard against the skin of his back. Where he planted a kiss when he finally caught his breath. “...Fuck”

“Fuck indeed” [Y/N] sighed. Finally regaining his voice after a while. Both their chests rose and fell, having exhausted all their stamina. Especially Barty who could feel himself getting flaccid inside [Y/N]'s slippery hole.

“I came... so fucking hard” Barty mumbled. Hands still on [Y/N]'s waist. Holding him firmly close. As if he wanted to cuddle. He was a big baby. [Y/N] rolled his eyes.

“Me too” he shifted a little. Feeling all the stuffing that Barty just pumped into him.

“We should do this every day, [N/N]” Barty chuckled a little. Humming after. His cock tender and soft now. Letting the liquid drip down his balls and [Y/N]'s thighs. Cheek still pressed against [Y/N]'s back. “...I think I may love you”

“Fuck... shut up, Barty.” Barty pouted.

[kabr0ztrousers]

ngl kinda just need oviposition with ftm reader. thats all LMAO

An FtM reader? A little tricky seeing I don't have any lived experience in that field, but this series was about pushing myself in new creative directions, so let's see what happens!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 35: Interdiction

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: oviposition; noncon; brainwashing; weird science; loss of property; alien abduction; kidnap; forced impregnation; inflation; egg inflation

A/N: Another sci-fi story because I did a feral egging scene recently, and while that's pretty hot variety really is the spice of life. I'm also couching this one in the world of Elite, so that's fun.

Still taking the time to remind you all that requests are free and open, I have a bit of a backlog after yesterday to work through but if you ask for something, it'll probably happen!

#####################################

Exit Frameshift in three, two, one...

Bang. You pulled hard on the stick, steering away from the star and zeroing the throttle. The reality of supercruise means you're still moving at about 30 klicks a second, but that's as close to stationary when considering distances measured in light-seconds. You steered to your next jump vector and rose from your flight seat. Not best practice, your engine emissions a beacon across the whole system, but you're well past the pirate belt in uncharted space. The only contacts you'll see out here are either enterprising extreme-range miners or the desperate pirates preying on them, even they're vanishingly rare.

Space is big. Really big. Even a star system is small in comparison. There's a good chance nobody's ever been here before.

The thought comforted you as you rehydrated some food and applied your hormones. You thought back to home: a dump of a refinery station in the middle of Alliance space. You'd watch the spacers in the huge type-9 haulers bring in kilotons of ore at a time. You'd tried flying freight. The money's good, and there's no passengers to annoy you, but the trade routes were samey and the pirates were always hungry for a mark. You did exactly as much as you needed to kit out your Diamondback and set off for Beagle Point. They say reaching the end of everything changes you. You needed to see for yourself.

You never made it there.

Halfway through your tray of food-flavoured protein paste your instrument panel lit up. Something was flying hard up your tailpipe, probably not friendly.

You hit the leather of the flight chair and gunned the throttle, wrestling the interdiction beam threatening to pull you out of supercruise. You were moving too slow, and the other ship had the headstart on you. Lights dimmed and smoke rose from your console as your FSD struggled to dump heat into the rest of the ship. You'd lost main power, battery backups kicked in to maintain air as you craned to see what had caught you.

You couldn't see the ship so much as see where it blotted out stars. A great dark silhouette threatening to crush you in its absence of form.

A great maw opened on the surface of the object, drawing nearer to you. Your docking computer flared to life and started calculating vectors, bringing you in to land even as you struggled to disengage it. The whole ship jolted as you touched down, almost throwing you from your seat.

You grabbed a pulse rifle and flipped your table, it wasn't much cover, but it'd have to do.

Splintering glass. You flew backwards in a rush of wind as the cockpit depressurised, the emergency helmet in your flight suit deploying around your head, just before something hit you, and you lost consciousness.

You awoke connected to monitors, a tube sticking down your throat. Two large reptilian... men? were talking. You assume they were talking, and assume they were men. They were heavily built, upright, bipedal, and wore long white gowns, the purplish light in the room casting them in faint lavender.

They looked at you. One clipped a smooth piece of metal to the side of its face

"Greetings, you have been captured" The alien's voice was strangely familiar.

It was the voice from the Galnet broadcasts

"Where am I? What have you done with my ship? You tried to pull the tube from your mouth, but your hands were restrained to the slab you were lay on.

"Your vessel has been disassembled for study. Your technology and biology has been categorised."

Your heart broke. That ship was your pride and joy, you knew every inch of it, and now it's gone. You slumped back, staring up at the ceiling as the newsreader voice continued.

"We have identified that your biology is acceptable to host our eggs. This is the reason you have been revived. Implantation has a greater success rate when the subject is not anaesthetised"

You jolted up. Eggs? The fuck?

The lizards approached you. You could see now their robes were open at the front revealing their bodies. They were each holding scissors.

They cut you out of your clothes. First opening the reinforced kevlar of your flight suit as though it was tissue paper, then snipping through your binder and boxers revealing your naked, hairy body.

One placed a metal disk on your midriff, where you felt it stick. They pressed a button on a control pad and electricity started pulsing through you. Your hair stood on end as your nipples hardened and your cunt moistened, your bulbous clit standing erect. The lizards looked at one another, and their hands fell upon you. Two fingers were shoved down your throat, making you gag as the other set to work on your pussy. Both ends of you were being worked, forced to produce fluids and lubricate you for what was to come. The throat slime rising in your mouth and the insistent fingertips on your slit. The one at your pussy grabbed your clit between two fingers and started jerking it, rubbing the hood over your tdick.

Your struggling against your bonds turned to writhing in pleasure, bucking your hips against the lizard's hand. Its fingers pushed inside you and started pumping, his other hand still jacking you off. You couldn't resist sucking on the fingers in your mouth as your orgasm washed over you, moaning around the hand in your mouth and squirting thin fluid from your cunt at the alien servicing you. The hands released you. You held your mouth open and presented your cunt to them, eager for more.

You could see cocks emerging from the slots on their crotches, dripping fluid and pulsing.

They fell upon you. In a flash your cunt was filled, your clit grinding against the rough scales on the lizard's belly. The other lizard followed suit, burying himself in your throat. His precum was sour and slimy, easily lubricating him as he pounded into your mouth and throat. The tube seemed to be to breathe through, otherwise you'd definitely pass out on the rod forcing its way down.

You could feel another orgasm pressing against you, making your cunt clench against the cock inside you as the lizard's thrusting rubbed your clit. The device on your belly pulsed harder and you heard both of the reptiles grunt in anticipation. They could clearly feel it too, fucking your holes even harder and filling you with that slimy pre. The pulses made you ache. You kept humping against the cock in your cunt, tongue sticking out to lick at the one in your throat even as it ravaged you. One of them grabbed your tits, rubbing your erect nipples and pushing you over the edge.

Your body twisted as you clenched and squirted all over the one in your pussy. Your eyes defocused and crossed. Both lizards hilted in you at once, the lewd sounds you kept making clearly pushing them over the edge.

The bases of their cocks expanded, locking them in. One pushed against the entrance of your womb, the other halfway down your throat. They started to throb and pulse, twitching as the lizards groaned. You felt thick cum flood you before solid objects started moving down them. One after another, eggs pushed into you, bulging your belly and pressing up against one another.

Your skin stretched until the metal device popped off you. The cloud of desire lifted from you and you tried to scream, wheezing down the tube leading into your airway until one of the aliens grabbed it and pressed it against your ass.

You almost orgasmed again when it started back up, each egg driving a wave of excitement and arousal through your body as they flowed into your womb and your stomach.

You were bulging and round when they pulled out, gravid and pregnant with dozens and dozens of eggs. The one at your pussy slapped your ass when he pulled out, the sudden shock sending another firecracker-orgasm through you, making you whimper and twitch, unable to move for the volume of eggs in you

The lizards left the room, and you felt numbness flow through you again, surrendering yourself to drugged sleep

You never did reach Beagle Point

#################################

I feel like I was able to keep the Elite technobabble to a minimum here, most of the terms are pretty self-explanatory and no worse than Trek can be

Either way, my research has shown that if I remind you at the top and bottom of an episode to send an ask if you have a request, I get traction. So please, if there's something you want me to try out, revisit, reimagine, or you just want to send a dirty picture, my asks and DMs are open and I'm always hungry for ideas!

[farfalleenjoyer]

"bullies to lovers" except it's not really bullying and y'all don't become lovers you just have sex

Your classmates were annoying.

They loved to tease you every single chance they got.

You could almost call it bullying- almost . It didn’t really have the same malice, the same hatred that bullying did.

But the way they bothered you all the time…

You were absolutely tired of them.

Gojo called your name, over and over, but you paid him no mind. Just ignore him. He’ll lose interest eventually.

“Satoru, I think he’s gone deaf.” Geto said with that annoying smile of his.

Naturally, they continued annoying you, despite your lack of response. You didn’t even look at them, yet they somehow still didn’t lose their motivation.

Eventually, you huffed and got up, walking away from the two most annoying boys in the world.

Only for an arm to catch you across the waist and pull you straight into Gojo’s lap.

He had a strong grip, which was unexpected considering how slender he looked. Guess he didn’t brag about being ‘the strongest’ for no reason.

“Are you in a bad mood?” He cooed mockingly. He had the most annoying smirk on his face, and a quick glance confirmed that Geto did too.

You were not going to take their mockery, and you really weren’t in the mood for whatever this was supposed to be. You tried to get up, only for Gojo to tighten his grip. It didn’t hurt physically, but it was definitely a blow to your ego. “Would you just leave me alone already?” You said irritably.

He shrugged, grinning like it was all some elaborate joke. “He’s just persistent.” Geto excused. As if it wasn’t both of them who were persistent in tormenting you.

Anything you had ever used for storage- lockers, cubbies, bags- were frequently filled with notes. Specifically heart-themed notes that would be filled with weird messages like:

“Roses are red

Green is the color of grass

Please wear tighter pants

They really bring out your ass”

You had no idea what the hell they were thinking or what their intentions were, but you were pretty sick of them.

“Let me go.” You demanded, pushing yourself as far as you could from Gojo’s body.

“What would be the fun in that?” Geto asked. He was just sitting on a nearby desk, looking amused.

Gojo leaned forward, putting his face way too close to yours. “We just want to have some fun with you.” He whispered seductively.

Seductively? Seductively? What the hell? You could feel your cheeks heating up, which was the last thing you needed in this situation.

“What?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of them. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted, and now you were laying on a desk with Gojo’s arms on either side of you, trapping you in place.

“You heard me. We’ve been trying for so long, but you just never catch the hint. You almost made us think you hate us, you know.” Gojo complained.

“Our fault, really. We should’ve been more direct.” Geto shrugged.

“You tormented me for all this time-” You started, before Gojo placed a finger on your lips. “We were flirting with you.” He smiled at you.

Last time you checked, though, them hiding your uniform does not count as flirting. And stuffing your wallet with condoms wasn’t flirting either. And annoying you every chance they got didn’t count either.

“I think we need to show him how much we like him.” Geto hummed. “Oh, I’ve been waiting way too long for a chance.” Gojo laughed in response, immediately pulling your pants down.

“Gojo, what are you doing?” You asked, mortified. “Didn’t we tell you to call us by our first names?” He gently scolded, running his finger in a straight line between your crotch. Did he know? How did he find out? You never disclosed your anatomy to anyone. As far as anyone was aware, you were just a regular boy who happened to be short and pretty. Yet, he didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised by the fact that he couldn’t feel a cock in your pants.

His fingers kept gliding over your clothed crotch, and his lips sealed yours. You could feel yourself get just a little wet at the sudden simulation. His tongue ran over your lips and he nipped at your bottom lip, but you didn’t let up. He pinched you and you gasped, and he immediately took the chance to swipe his tongue into your mouth.

He was practically stealing your breath away, and you tugged at his hair, wanting to breathe. He pulled away, with a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. “You’re into pulling hair?” He laughed. You shook your head, and he flashed a look to Geto. What the fuck was going on? Why the hell was Gojo doing this, and in front of Geto?

He pulled your underwear down and you barely had any time to react before his mouth was on your folds, licking desperately. You made some weird pitchy noise like “Unh” and your back arched. Both involuntarily. It was hard to control yourself.

“Gojo, what the fuck?” You said before immediately squealing a little when he pinched your thigh hard . He glared at you, but didn’t pull his mouth away from you. “It’s Satoru.” Geto corrected. “He’s so mean, isn’t he?” His voice oozed with fake sympathy.

You were in a pretty weird situation- Gojo was on his knees in front of you, your thighs on his shoulders, and his face buried in your crotch. And Geto was just watching . It was unnerving.

Gojo slid his tongue up and swirled it around your clit, making you buck your hips up. His eyes darkened and he started sucking your clit, making you produce all sorts of keening noises. His fingers slipped in, ignoring the resistance of your walls, and your eyelids forced themselves shut when his fingers started moving in and out quickly.

“I can’t decide whether I wanna make you cum on my face, or if the first time I make you cum should be on my dick.” Gojo said breathlessly, unlatching his mouth for a few seconds to talk. He didn’t wait for anyone to advise him though, and went back to lapping at your pussy.

You moaned and subconsciously started grinding your hips. It was weird, how even though you were the one being eaten out, he was groaning and moaning too. When you eventually gushed, you couldn’t tell which one of you was being louder.

He pulled away and you could finally feel how your legs were shaking, just a little. You blinked your eyes open to find Geto sucking on Gojo’s fingers, the same fingers that were just inside you-

His purple eyes were dark with what you could only assume with lust, and he was looking at you like he was about to devour you.

Gojo pulled his fingers out of Geto’s mouth with a wet pop and he walked back over to you. He grabbed your legs and put a leg on either side of his waist. All of a sudden you felt something intrude in your walls, making you grab at the sides of the desk. “Flip him over.” Geto commanded, and Gojo pulled out and flipped you on your stomach. He grabbed your hips, pushing your back down and lifting them up, making you arch your back.

You felt the intrusion again, making you want to press your face into something, just anything . He pushed his cock slowly into you, inch by inch. You don’t even know how much of it was in before you pressed your lips together and shut your eyes. You felt so full already, you didn’t know how the hell anything more was gonna fit. “I can’t take anymore.” You warned weakly. “Of course you can.” Gojo grunted, pushing more of himself inside you. You lowered your head and bit your lip, making him pull you backwards and lift your hips higher. “Can’t keep it arched, huh?” He sounded breathless, but still so fucking smug. By the time you felt his hips finally connect to your ass, you were seeing stars. You could feel how deep he was in you and it felt like too much already.

He pulled out slowly before pushing back in, and repeated several times, getting a little faster each time. His restraint eventually snapped and he just sped up, thrusting in and out of you so fast and so hard. You were moaning so damn loudly, gripping the edge of the desk for dear life.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So damn warm and wet-” Gojo babbled as he thrust. “You know you’re so fucking pretty, so fucking perfect-��hah , you keep fluttering around me whenever I praise you. You like that?”

Of course he was the talkative type. You could hardly remark on it though, not when you were too busy getting your brain fucked right out of your skull.

His hand snaked down to your clit and every thought instantly evaporated into nothing.

It didn’t take long for you to cum after that, your walls clenching around him desperately as you cried out. “Squeezing me so fucking tight, fuck -” He whimpered before cumming in you.

He pulled out and let go of your hips, and you felt the warm liquid seep out. It was finally over, you finally got to rest after having two orgasms-

But then a finger swiped upwards, pushing the semen back into your hole. You didn’t recall Gojo’s fingers being so thick…?

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Geto purred. Ah. Of course. That was Geto’s finger. You’d only noticed by sight, before, how Gojo had longer, thinner fingers whereas Geto had thicker ones. And now you got to feel it too.

His hand grabbed your hair and pulled it, making you yelp. “I asked you a question.” His voice was so cold . “Aren’t you gonna answer?” He was yanking your hair in such a way that he was forcing you to arch more- to the point where it hurt -, and you really didn’t want to find out what he would do if you didn’t answer.

“Yes!” You snapped, resulting in a sharp slap to your ass. “ I’ll be good for you, Suguru. Say that. And make it cute.” He commanded sharply. Wasn’t he the one talking about how mean Gojo was?

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you Suguru-” You said quickly, sounding breathless. He let go of your hair and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, making you flinch. “Good boy.” He whispered in your ear, his breath hot.

You barely had a warning before he slipped into you. Only the head was in, but you could already tell your earlier observations about their fingers applied to somewhere else, too.

He pushed into you slowly, and you felt like you were being split open. Your fingers gripped the edge of the desk roughly, desperate for reprieve.

His thrusts were painfully slow, making you really feel him stretching your walls. You whined, shifting your hips, only for him to squeeze them before holding them in place.

“You need something, baby?” His voice was low and seductive. He was being so mean earlier but he seemed so nice now. He pushed your hair away from your ear before putting his mouth directly on it. “C’mon, use your words.” He whispered, his hot breath fanning on your ear, causing you to shudder. “Can you..” Were you really about to ask him to fuck you faster? The same guy who’s been tormenting you ever since you entered this school?

“Can I what?” You could hear the grin in his voice, that bastard. “Go faster.” You finished your sentence. It was barely out of your mouth before he picked up speed, making you see white. All that could come out of your mouth was “oh my god”, and even then it was probably silent. He, like Gojo, was vocal, but he was still quieter than his friend.

You couldn’t tell which one of them was more unbearable; Gojo’s unnaturally deep thrusts coupled with his loud whimpers, or Geto’s abnormal stretch and temperamental treatment.

When his hips started stuttering, he immediately started massaging your clit, making you finish with him. Your stomach finally made contact with the desk, and you just rested your cheek on its hard surface as you panted. You could feel your thighs shake, feel their cum dripping out of your used cunt.

“So fucking hot. Damn, I should’ve brought my camera with me.” Gojo’s voice cut in. “You have a phone for a reason, don’t you?” Geto replied. “Well, yeah, but the quality .” He whined.

“Oh, well. I’ll bring it next time!” Gojo said cheerfully. You raised your head off the desk to glare at him. “Fuck you mean next time ?” You said incredulously. He smiled and tilted his head. “What, did you think this was nearly enough? We really meant it, you know. We like you.”

[killmeprettypleasee]

Price x Ftm!lieutenant!Reader general dating hcs pls and tyy

Dating headcanons W/ John Price.

Warning: SFW AND NSFW mentioned, clingy price, mentions of killing someone, slightly possessive Price, switch Price and switch reader.

SFW

Before you and Price started dating, the two of you are already close friends, you two joined the military together and trained together back then before you guys are in your current ranks.

He is very sweet to you and supports you being a trans person.

He found out you were trans waaaayyyy back then, and the way he reacts was kinda random..

"Wait.. so your one of those transformers robots????" He looked at you dumbfounded as he scanned the surgery scars on your chest.

He was very confused.. but still supports you!

When someone was being toxic to you he WILL and not hesitate to unalive them.

He loves you too much see😭

He'll give them the coldest death stared making their bones quiver in fear.

He will cuddle you, and be hella clingy.

Imagine.

You both at the halls of the base and he's just hugging you, not caring if anyone is watching.

He would call you to his office to just hold you and have you sit on his lap.

Hell, every once i a while he'll make you skip training just to have you there with him..

He will never let you out of his sight.

NEVER.

You're his sunshine afterall, his Marshmellow to the hot cocoa, his sauce to the spaghetti, his peach to the eggplant (okay thats just weird..)

When you're both at home, he wouldn't let you go out to buy groceries and insisted that he should be the one buying.

He's just scared because he overthinks that someone will kidnap you.

He doesn't even care if you know self-defense 💀

When both of you go out on a date he'll take you out to the beautiful restaurants ever, but he rather keep it simply

He'll even buy you beautiful clothes to match your date.

One time both of you went to a Chinese sea food restaurant that serves raw and fresh sea food.

He bought himself those tentacles cus he wanna try them out.

End up sticking to his face.

Both of you gotta go to the doctor cus the tentacles suction wont let go.

He was traumatized and both of you never went to those fresh sea food restaurant.

NSFW

After ever date there should a spicy intimate time with him.

He would bend you over when you both in your car or at your house.

Just somewhere private where both of you could fuck.

He loves dominating you, but sometimes he also likes it when you're the one dominating him

He likes it when you overstimulate him till he's a whining mess when you're taking the lead.

You just loos so sexy ontop him while riding his cock while calling him a good boy.

It makes his cock twitch when you do that.

And the way you moan just sends him over the edge.

But when he's the one in control he would bend you over doggy style and hit your prostate head on with his tip.

He absolutely loves when you moan out his name.

Its just so cute.

He likes raw sex.

He wanna make sure to mark your insides aswell your body to show who you belong.

He loves it when your cunt squeezed his cock.

He'll call you a good boy for that.

When both of you are more on the romantic side he'll be gentle and loving with you.

He'll caressed your body and worship you.

He loves touching your scars btw.

He thinks its fascinating.

"God baby.. you're so damn beautiful.. such a handsome boy eh?.." He softly praised against your ear as he touched your scars.

He grunted when your cunt tightened around him.

"You're getting so tight around me baby boy.. such a good boy huh?"

Yeh...

He sometimes think about having a child with you sometimes.

This man has an extreme breeding kink...

Sometimes he'll rub your lower belly while he's fucking you cunt, whispering praises while he day dream of getting you pregnant.

He's glad you have a cunt ngl.

He could just impregnate you anytime..

But you're still a soldier and you still wanna keep the job so he respects that.

He'll wait when he's allowed to Impregnate you.

But he wont stop fucking you raw.

Sooo you have no choice but to go on birth control🤷.

[tra1nchi]

Top ftm reader please!!! Fucking your usual domtop lover with a strap for the first time and making him go all whiny😍

🌷anon

Eeep!! Yes yes,,MINORS DNI!!,,Top ftm reader,,Strap fucking,,size diff(smaller reader),, Dumbifaction

Having such a big and strong man as your husband,,so obviously the top that it was embarrassing for you,,he'd come home everyday from the gym,,horny out of his mind,,railing your cunt without even taking a shower first,,

You don't know how you managed to convince him to try going on bottom,,you bought a strap online that came with a sizeable dildo,,it was without your husbands previous knowledge,

Him coming home as usual ready to fuck you as he stops dead in his tracks,, flushing in embarrassment as he sees the dildo hanging down from your thighs

"What's that for baby?" He asks walking over yo you as he holds onto your hips,,looking like a dejected pup when you lightly smack his hand away

Agreeing after some convincing to try getting his hole stuffed,,being so shy and nervous at first as you lube up his hole and the strap,,he didn't expect to be such a slut for it!!

Moaning like a little bitch everytime,,the plastic hits his prostate,,his hips bucking back desperately against it as he sobs softly into the blankets,,his big muscly body being pushed up and down against the mattress!!

His eyes rolling back as he cums for the first time from his hole being fucked,,his mouth open and wide as he cried out your name cumming all over his tummy,,the only thing he could think of was how good you were fucking him!!

Trying out so many different sex positions to the point where he could barely talk from orgasming so much,,babbling and whining as he bounces up and down the dildo,,kissing you roughly as he tries to also pleasure you put he could barely focus with something so thick right up his ass!!

[daydaydayrk420]

I'm on my period right now. It was like five days late and it's hurting as fuck. All I can think about is Bucky Barnes/Logan Howlet helping me with easing the pain.

So because I want to... here's a cross-over because they're my favorite people ever so I guess this is mostly for me but I'm sure someone out there will enjoy it too

I didn't want to put two GIFs so here's this instead with David Harbour in the background bcs we also love that man too

Men don't care about period blood

Top Bucky Barnes x bottom ftm reader x top logan howlet

⚠️period blood, sub-reader, taboo I guess, eating out, double penetration, not for weak stomachs⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

Bear in mind i don't have testosterone so i still get my period. I hear your period stops when you have it but i have no clue cus i can't get my hands on it.

Fyi I started this on the fifth of November so my period is long gone as I write this and post it

Update... I'm going through another period and I'm laughing at my old me if he thought those were horrible cramps. Now? I can't even walk or the pain goes in my ass too.

Again ⚠️ MAJOR WARNING A LOT A LOT OF BLOOD PLAY ⚠️

______________________________________________________________

Blood. Everywhere.

Y/n didn't keep track of his cycle. Again.

So. Guess who woke up with blood covered boxers this morning?

Y/n y/l/n.

Said man woke up in discomfort. He's in discomfort for multiple reasons.

One, his abdomen hurts as fuck.

Two, his thighs are sticking together from blood.

Three, wearing wet boxers isn't fun in general let alone blood-soaked boxers.

Four, the window is wide open and so is the door. He's fucking freezing.

Five, the bed is empty. His two veterans must've stayed up again.

Both Bucky and Logan prefer the colder weather so it's no surprise the windows and doors are wide open so the breeze flows through.

Y/n groans in frustration and covers his face. But he doesn't attempt to move yet. He's angry enough that he's too lazy to move. He's already covered in blood anyway what's the point of rushing.

But the cold breeze pushes him out of bed. He slowly gets up so he doesn't get the blood on more surfaces than it already is and goes to close the window.

Once that's done he goes to his dresser and gets his period boxers. He goes to the bathroom, strips his now red boxers off, and throws them in the washer.

Once the washer goes off he takes a quick shower to clean the blood off. Then he lets his body air dry as he searches for his menstrual cup. He makes sure to slide around with a towel under his legs so in case any blood drips it doesn't fall on the floor.

Eventually, he finds it and runs it under hot water to clean it.

"Why does it smell like murder in here?" Logan's gruff voice called out from the bedroom. Y/n only grunts knowing Logan can hear him because of his higher senses. Same with why he can smell the blood on the sheets so easily.

"Oh..." is the last thing the bleeding man heard before the bedroom was filled with sheet ruffling.

A couple of minutes later, Logan walked into the bathroom with the sheets he took off the bed and coveres. He stops the washer to add it in before setting it off again.

All while he did that y/n was zoned out sitiing on the toiled just letting the blood drip into it because it's way comfortable and easier. But you can't sit on the toilet for days. So Logan walks up to him and crouches in front of him.

At such proximity the veterans nose is hit with the strong smell of iron. "Hey, bub. You gonna get up some day." He keeps his voice soft so he doesn't set off y/n's mood randomizer.

The bleeding man snaps out of it and nods. He reaches for his cup again. Logan nods too and kisses his hurting lovers' forehead before leaving so he can have some privacy.

Meanwhile, Bucky is in the kitchen desperately trying to figure out the new coffee machine they got as a gift from y/n's friend.

He lets out a few curses under his breath as he tries to understand what's happening. That's until a hairy hand reaches around him and presses a few buttons, and boom. The coffee is brewing.

The metal armed man groans and chukles afterward. "Thanks, pup." He smiled at the smaller man with kitty ears hair behind him. Being a part of a throuple with two other short men helps with y/n's dysphoria. (Comic heights)

Logan grunts in response. He doesn't like being called pup, but no matter how many times he says it, y/n and Bucky still call him that. It's what he gets for calling everyone, bub. It's basically the same thing, but instead of b, it's p.

They both silently watch the coffee drip into the mug.

"James!" Y/n groans in frustration. The veterans tense up but look at each other, wondering which one he's yelling at.

"Both of you!" That snaps the two veterans out of their tranz and run towards y/n.

Said man is standing in the living room staring at their cat, who's covered in mud, that was dripping from Bucky's and Logan's shoes.

The white fur is now brown and sticky as the adorable feline wiggles on her back as if asking for belly rubs.

The bleeding man looks at the veterans and glares. They know what that means, and Bucky grabs Alpine while Logan grabs the boots. They both take them to the bathroom to wash off.

Y/n goes to the kitchen and takes Bucky's finished coffee. He grabs something to eat and goes to the living room. He opens the box of chocolate chip cookies and starts stuffing his face with the cookies and the coffee.

"Hey, that was mine." Bucky chuckled when he noticed y/n is drinking his coffee.

The bleeding man only grumbles and keeps drinking.

Bucky chuckles and goes to make another coffee. This time, he tries to remember what Logan did for the machine to work. Surprisingly, he figures it out and makes a simple black coffee.

Soon, Logan joines them with a cat burrito. He sets alpine who's wrapped in a tortilla blanket on y/n's lap and kisses his forehead before going to the kitchen.

The day goes by painfully slow for the man in pain. He's used up all his last painkillers. Normally, Logan or Bucky would've gone to buy more, but to y/n's luck today, it's a national holiday. So. Everything is closed.

So y/n is left to suffer.

But! The veterans talked, and borh agreed to help their boyfriend with his pain.

The bleeding man is still sitting in the living room. Alpine purring loudly in his lap as she suckles and kneeds on the fluffly blanket covering y/n's thighs.

Logan walks into the living room and picks up alpine. Y/n is about to protest, but Logan sits in his lap instead.

Logan is basically the second house cat. He's got claws. He growls. He purrs. He loves cuddles. And he's tiny enough to comfortably hold him in a lap. Besides the weight. But y/n's likes the weight. It's calming.

That's until Logan starts peppering kisses on the bleeding man's neck. He can feel y/n tense up so he starts to purr to calm him down again.

"Damn you" y/n huffed but pulled Logan closer.

Bucky watches from the doorway.

Usually, y/n is the one on top. He loves using his strap. But when he's on his period, the vetrans want to take care of him instead.

Y/n knows what's happening. He's not dumb. Is he in the mood? He's not sure. But he'll let it play out and see.

And so it did. Y/n is now naked in bed. A large towel under his hips and thighs as he watches Bucky setting up any necessary extra towels.

Logan is in the bathroom probably looking for their box of extra condoms and lube.

Y/n is hit with immense cramps and clutches his stomach. Bucky notices and immediately sits with him. The metal-armed man rubs circles onto y/n's belly.

He decides to skip the waiting and slowly reaches between the bleeding man's legs. Said man gasps and looks at Bucky who only gives him a reassuring smile.

Bucky slowly reaches down and gently removes the menstrual cup before taking it to the bathroom where Logan takes the cup and sends Bucky back.

When Bucky returned he saw y/n curled up in a ball, clenching his belly with his eyes shut tight.

The metal armed man immediately rushed to bed and pulled y/n to lay on his back. "Hey hey it's alright let me help." He said soothingly. Y/n whines and holds his abdomen.

Bucky slowly and gently removed the bleeding man's hands. He kisses his abdomen and gently runs his hands over those slightly bloodied thighs.

Not long after that Logan comes back with condoms, lube and some now found painkillers if the cramps get too bad.

Bucky slowly starts to kiss towards y/n's bleeding cunt. The moment his lips touch y/n's clit Bucky feels the body underneath him jump.

Logan sits by the hurting man's side and starts to kiss and purr against his skin to comfort him.

Y/n's face scrunches. He doesn't know if he wants it or not. So he just lets it play out and sees because he knows the veterans will stop if he asks.

The metal-armed man takes his time. His tongue slowly licks around the sensitive nub, licks down the outer sides of the inner lips. Then the inner sides. And eventually the opening. He stops when y/n's hand jump into his hair.

He slowly caresses y/n's thigh with his metal arm while Logan rubs y/n's abdomen and kisses his neck.

The mixture of kisses, caresses and Logan's purrs helps the bleeding man relax. He eventually eased the grip on Bucky's hair and lets him continue.

Bucky starts licking again. He doesn't want to use his fingers. He knows the tongue is enough when he's eating y/n out.

It doesn't take long before he's making out with the weeping cunt. He's like a starved man. And the way y/n's legs wrap around his head and squeeze only fuels him more. He rubs the clit with his nose as his tongue works wonders inside those bleeding walls.

Y/n's gasping and arching his back. His hand is gripping Bucky's hair so tight he's surprised he's not ripping them out. Logan can't help but stroke himself at the sight.

But this isn't for Logan. So he kisses his bleeding boyfriend and uses his free hand to play with y/n's nipple.

Y/n shakily reaches out and grabs Logan's dick. He doesn't like when the attention is only in him, so when Logan stops him, he nets out a whine in protest. The cat eared man chuckles and lets y/n do what he wants. That grin is slowly wiped off with a moan when he feels y/n's thumb right on his frenulum.

Logan cursed under his breath. Bucky is fully unaware of what's happening above him because he's too focused on his cunt makeout. He hasn't pulled up to breathe yet. But he doesn't seem to care.

Y/n does dare, though, so he tugs on Bucky's hair. He looks down to meet those beautiful blue eyes filled with passion. Bucky understands and lifts his head up to breathe. He looks like a hyena. Most of his chin is covered in blood. But it's not as messy as one would think, considering the blood mixes with the juices.

The former assassin finally notices how y/n is stroking Logan's dick.

"Should we take another step?" Bucky suggested. Logan groans with desperation but doesn't answer because it's y/n's matter.

The bleeding man thinks about it. He needs the release. Plus it'll help with the cramps. He nods and reaches for the condoms. Bucky stops him and grabs the box himself. He doesn't want y/n to move much.

The lube is forgotten. It's less likely that they'll need it. Bucky grabs a condom and hands it to Logan before he grabs one for himself. They carefully put them on.

Y/n sits up to straddle Logan's hips. He lays his back against the wolf's chest and tilts his head to bury his face in the wolf's neck. He rests one hand on Logan's that's resting on his belly to hold him in place, and puts the other one on Bucky's bicep for now.

Bucky first lines Logan up and lets y/n slowly sink onto him. The two men in front of Bucky moan.

Bucky just watches at first. He lets Logan gently rock his hips to start off with a gentle pace. Y/n keeps his face buried in Logan's neck.

Y/n knows that whenever he needs to dig his nails or teeth into something without having to hold back he can always use Logan for it. As much as Bucky loves the marks they all agreed that it's safer if y/n does it to Logan because of his healing factor so he doesn't have to worry and hold back on his pressure. And let's be honest. Logan is a masochist.

So y/n reaches back and digs his nails into Logan's bicep as he's hit with cramps. But Logan doesn't budge. He only groans and keeps a steady pace.

It doesn't take long before Bucky joins. He slowly pushes in to make sure the hurting man's body gets used to being penetrated twice at the same time.

It's not long after that that the throuple is a moaning and groaning mess.

"James" Y/n moans. He's so glad his boyfriends share a name. It's less complicated to moan for both of them. Bucky and Logan know the moan is meant for both of them. Also, a good reason why they don't get jealous over who gives better pleasure.

The boys speed up. Y/n gasps and arches his back. At this point he's forgotten the pain he woke up with as it's replaced with pleasure. "Close!" He cries out when he feels the familiar knot in his abdomen.

Both veterans start to attack their boyfriend's neck with kisses. They want to stimulate him as much as possible. Y/n's hands shoot to both of their hair and harshly grip them. They all let out curses under their breaths as they started to get sloppy.

"Yes yes yes yes yes" Y/n groans and squirts. He's not a squirter so this surprised all three of them.

Logan's senses go overload as he watches the liquid shooting onto Bucky's thighs. It's all too much for him and before he knows it he's filling his condom up.

Y/n lays against Logan who collapsed onto the pillows. They both pant and wait for Bucky to finish too.

Logan shakily reaches up and pulls Bucky into a heated kiss. The bleeding man whimpered at the sight.

Logan and Bucky smirked. They know what they're doing. So they purposely used more force into the kiss.

Y/n clenches around Bucky. That caused the metal-armed man to groan and pull away from the kiss. Bucky kisses the bleeding man instead. Y/n scratches at Bucky's back and returns the kiss.

That's all Bucky needs to let go and fill his condom too.

Bucky tries his best not to collapse so he can clean the three of them up. Once everyone's clean he joins them in bed. Logan and Bucky sandwich y/n between them and caresses his sore spots.

The bleeding man closed his eyes and murmured quiet thank yous before dozing off.

Logan and Bucky let themselves fall asleep too. They can't remember the last time they slept anyway.

[jokeringcutio]

ARTHUR HARROW X FTM READER - PART 2 (Doctor Harrow)

TWO: Summary: You meet Doctor Harrow, he introduces some new kinks to you. Continuation of: You’re part of Arthur Harrow’s community, but hold a special place. [ Part 1 here ] Arthur Harrow (Cult Leader) x FTM Reader. Rating: Explicit (Contains smut, Warning for dub-con, One-sided Breeding Kink from Harrow, talk about getting Reader pregnant, Praise kink, use of good boy, reader curses a few times (mostly damn) ). Words: 5785 Thanks to the wonderful supporter who commissioned this fic ♡

For: @apriltearsbringmayfears Tags: Older man x younger (ftm) reader, dub-con and consensual intimacy, praise kink, touching, kissing, explicit sexual content, bit of powerplay, you x the villainous cult leader, Doctor Harrow is messing about.

Your head was spinning, the world a blur of sterile white. White walls, white floor, even you were swallowed by the stark whiteness of the fabric encasing your body. An asylum patient's garb clung to you, the realization cold and sharp in your mind. You were a patient, trapped in a room that reeks of disinfectant and stripped-down sanity. The air was still, almost suffocating in its cleanliness.

"Good morning," came a calm, composed voice from across the room. You turned your head slowly, fighting the dizziness. There he was. Doctor Arthur Harrow, his hair shorter, slicked back in a mockery of casual sophistication. He sat behind a desk made of glass, aviator glasses perched on his nose. A small mustache curled above his lip, giving him an air of quiet authority.

Your eyes were instantly drawn to the cane that rested against the desk. His cane. But the crocodile heads were nowhere in sight. Instead, you saw a modern black cane with a golden accent and a white handle. No crocodile head. Just plain, clinical efficiency.

This wasn’t your Arthur.

He tapped a white, expensive-looking pen against the sides of his glasses and – to your shock- you noticed a golden gleaming ring on his ring finger. He seemed to trace your gaze and hummed, but said nothing.

Modern clothes clung to his frame, a crisp departure from the red cotton he usually favored. White books and little white trinkets adorned the colorless cabinets against the walls. It made you realize this could not be a real place. No one kept everything in white. Even the hearth, the tables, the chairs, everything lacked color except for a painting on the wall.

But the books. Their covers were all blank.

You knew where this place was. And that you weren’t the first to visit it.

"Doctor..." you whispered, the title tasting foreign on your tongue. You’d wanted to ask so many questions, but your throat felt dry. Memories swirled in the fog of your mind - fragments of a different life, a different Harrow.

"Yes, it's me," he said, smile faint but present. His eyes, hidden behind those reflective lenses, seemed to pierce through you. "I believe I know what your problem is."

You shivered, folding your arms tightly around yourself as if that could keep out the chill seeping into your bones. The room smelled of antiseptic and something else. Something metallic, almost coppery. Blood? No. Just your imagination.

"What problem?" you managed to ask, though the words felt insignificant. There wasn’t anything wrong with you. Not anything you weren’t aware of. "Why am I here?”

"Calm down," he replied, voice soothing but firm. "We're going to try something new. Something that could help you." The confidence in his tone was unshakeable, absolute.

Your heart could be heard pounding in your ears, chest heaving more rapidly now. What did he think was wrong with you? Arthur had always assured you that you were perfect to him. Surely, this mirror-version of him was lying – a fraud. Perhaps not so much a dream as a nightmare.

"Help me?" you scoffed, disbelief mingling with fear. "What are you talking about?"

"A new kind of therapy,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you. That familiar smile tugged the corners of his lips. A smile you recognized from your Arthur. Oh, how you recognized that look. Kind, yet mischievous. He already had his mind set on something. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to change his thoughts.  

“A new treatment,” you echoed hollowly, mind racing.

"One that requires your complete trust and cooperation." The confidence in his voice was unwavering, a rock amidst the storm of your confusion.

You stared at him, your heart pounding a chaotic rhythm against your ribs. He seemed so sure, so calm. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights above.

“Why?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Questions clawed at your mind. What kind of therapy? Why you? And why did this all feel so disturbingly familiar?

"Trust me," he said, his voice low and hypnotic.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the thin fabric of the white patient outfit doing little to shield you from the cold.

"Why should I agree to this therapy?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, slicing through the sterile air.

Doctor Arthur Harrow leaned back in his chair, unperturbed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Because you need it," he said simply, his tone smooth and confident. "Everything will become clear. You'll see."

"Need it?" You scoffed, feeling a surge of defiance. "Why should I trust you?"

"Trust is earned," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly behind those aviator glasses. "We’ve already made such progress, haven’t we? I remember you’ve already put all your trust in me…”

And that caused a pang deep inside your chest because, with a start, you realized he was right. You’d come to trust your Arthur blindly. Fully. Your love for him has become irrevocably passionate and wild. A treasure you did not want to lose or abandon.

Trust Arthur? You already did with your whole heart.

But this? This man? He was not your Arthur. Of that you were sure. And defiantly you gazed at him, your own lips twisting in disdain. How dare someone, or some higher power, simulate the man of your desires?

"Faith," you muttered, tasting the word like poison. "My faith is reserved for one alone."

"And that’s a good thing," he said, leaning forward again, his gaze intense. "It is going to make my job so much easier.”

His words sent shivers down your spine, his voice full of dark promises that had you squeezing your thighs together and your cock throbbing to life. You silently cursed for getting aroused by this illusion of the man you loved.

"What job?” you asked, shaking your head and willing your erection to go down. Not that you were successful…"You keep saying these words, but they mean nothing."

"Words are powerful," he responded, his voice a gentle caress. "They can heal, or they can destroy. It's all in how you use them."

"You're not answering my question," you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why me? Why now?"

"Why not you?" His answer was infuriatingly cryptic, his calm demeanor only adding to your agitation. "Aren’t the favorite disciple?”

There it was. Your eyes flew wide. A confession that made him sound more like the man you knew. Was he the same as your Arthur after all?

“And so you chose me for this new… therapy of yours?’

“Sometimes, the universe chooses us for reasons we can't understand," he continued, voice husky and low. Entranced, you watched his finger trace an imaginary circle on a blank paper on the glass table in front of him. The golden wedding band gleamed in the light.

Was it to symbolize his faithfulness to Ammit? Or to someone else?

To you?

Why were you hopeful?

"That's not an answer," you bit back, your pulse quickening.

"Maybe not the one you want," he conceded, his smile widening. "But it's the one you need."

"Need," you echoed, feeling the word coil around your mind like a snake. "What do you think I need?"

"To see the truth," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To understand your own need, I will have to show you.”

While your mind was still racing  - running wouldn’t be of any help as there was no place to go – you heard the clicking of his heels as he rose from his chair and made his way around the desk.

Doctor Harrow came to stand behind you, his presence looming. You felt the warmth first, a heavy presence that crept over your shoulder. The air in the asylum office felt thick, almost suffocating. His hand had found your shoulder, firm but gentle. You tried to turn, to look at his hand, to see where he touched you, but the grip he had on you tightened. His fingers, strong and sure, pressed gently into your flesh through the thin fabric.

A silent warning.

"Shh," he whispered, voice low and soothing. It was a command wrapped in velvet.

You swallowed hard, nerves jittery. "What if I don't agree to the new therapy?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You knew going against his will was going to be a challenge.

Harrow's breath warmed the back of your neck. "You'll give in...eventually," he said, each word deliberate, measured. A strange sensation crawled up your spine, settling deep in your gut. His hand squeezed your shoulder, the pressure both reassuring and terrifying.

"Why are you so sure?" you managed to ask, heart pounding in your chest.

"Because," he murmured softly, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince, "I know how your mind works. I cracked the code and found the combination."

Harrow's hand slid from your shoulder, trailing down your spine. His touch was electric, igniting nerves you didn't know existed. You stiffened, feeling every inch of his presence behind you.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Your voice quivered, barely audible.

"I’ve started your therapy," Harrow replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "This is part of it."

You shook your head, a weak attempt to muster defiance. "I didn’t agree to…"

"Shh," he interrupted, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, then moving around to your chest. "Trust me."

Harrow’s hand was under your clothes before you could react. His fingers traced a path of fire across your skin, each touch igniting something primal within you. Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below your navel, his thumb circling it with deliberate slowness.

"Doctor..." you gasped, but he silenced you with a finger to your lips. The gesture felt intimate, almost reverent, and yet there was an undeniable dominance in his eyes.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice a soothing purr. "Trust me."

The way he loomed over you felt dominating – as if he was crowding in on you. And then, it happened.

Before you could protest further, Harrow’s lips crashed against yours. The kiss was demanding, consuming, as if he sought to claim every breath you had. His mustache scratched your face, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your mind screamed confusion, but your body betrayed you, melting into his touch.

His tongue explored your mouth with a hungry urgency, each movement calculated and intense. You felt his hands gripping your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Time seemed to warp, seconds stretched into eternity. The world outside the asylum office ceased to exist. It was only Harrow. His taste, his scent, his heat.

When he finally pulled away, you gasped for air, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He looked at you, his blue eyes piercing through your defenses.

This was his therapy? You didn’t want to know how he treated his other patients.

You shivered as his hand moved lower, fingertips brushing against the waistband of your pants. He probably already spotted the bulge there, must have seen the signs of your arousal. Damn him. He took his time, savoring each second as if it were a ritual. The air thickened with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in your ears.

Then, his fingers flicked over your bulge, the friction enough to make you gasp deliciously. With a swift motion, he gripped the back of your neck. Not painfully, but firmly, asserting control. The pressure sent a thrill down your spine, making you arch involuntarily into his touch. A smug smile slid on his face, the corners of his lips pulling up in that cocky smirk you loved to kiss away.

Harrow’s other hand tugged at your pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your cock popped out, kissed proudly by the cold office air.

"Doctor..." you breathed again, this time less a plea and more a surrender.

"Good boy," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. His fingers stroked past your swollen cock, earning him another moan torn from your lips. “So eager,” he muttered. “So ready to please me.”

His hand moved up and down between your thighs, strong fingers teasing and exploring. You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips, your body responding eagerly to his touch. He knew exactly where to press, where to stroke, drawing out pleasure with expert precision.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice velvet smooth. "Give your body what it wants. Let go."

Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as waves of sensation crashed over you. Each touch, each caress, brought you closer to the edge. His name became a mantra on your lips, a prayer offered up to this godlike figure who held you in thrall.

"Arthur... please..."

“Doctor,” he firmly corrected you. “Doctor Harrow,” and then he leaned over you again to bring his lips close to your ear. The rasped whisper was enough to bring you closer to your climax. “Or call me daddy, because that is the real issue here. Isn’t it?”

His words confused you at first because you didn’t call your Arthur that. But Doctor Harrow’s fingers moved so expertly, he had you crawling in your seat, back arched, legs trembling, body wrecked with desire. And yet he kept you pinned down by your shoulders, used his own body weight to keep you trapped in your seat as he assaulted you with pleasure.

Just his hand and his voice. You thought it was unfair that he could do this to you.

"You're doing so well," he praised, his voice thick with approval. "But you can do even better.”

The rustling of clothes and the absence of pressure indicated that he had moved. But only when his fingers left your cock did you open your eyes and actually look. Doctor Harrow limped around you and came to stand before you, with a serious and solemn expression. And then he sank to his knees, pushing your legs aside before pressing a hand flatly against your tummy, applying pressure to keep you there.

“Let’s just take this a notch further.”

His lips closed around your small cock and you were reeling. You tried to wiggle under his touch while he sucked and nipped. Your hands found his – shorter – hair and dug into it, tugging at the strands for leverage and a silent plea to let go.

“Don’t,” a hoarse moan. “Stop,” the voice was your own. But damn, this felt good. As did the smirk that you felt against your skin while he kept on sucking and nipping, using his mouth to bring you to the edge, ready to tumble over.

One hard suck – the slurping noise that accompanied it was embarrassing but oh-so-good. With a choked cry, you came undone, your body wracked with intense pleasure. Every muscle tensed, then released, leaving you trembling in the aftermath.

And still, he nipped and sucked until the last of the tremors faded and pleasure became sensitivity, bordering on pain if he didn’t let go and would overstimulate you.

Luckily, he let go of your cock with a loud pop on his lips. One last lick past your cock made you shiver – too much, your mind provided – but then he was done, rising to a standing position in front of you. He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, as if savoring the last vestiges of your climax. And when you looked up at him, he was staring down at you intently, yet pensively. As if he was lost in thought.

"Good boy," Doctor Harrow praised you, his tone laced with satisfaction.

You were still catching your breath, glancing up at him. “Is the therapy over now?’ You cheekily asked, not caring if he would think you a brat for the tone of your voice.

Doctor Harrow pursed his lips, the frown above his aviator glasses deepened. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you repeated, this time a little more agitated. He had sucked you off. You were done now, weren’t you? You could leave, right? “Are we done now?’

A pregnant silence filled the air between you.

“My dear boy,” he finally said after what felt like too long. “Why would you assume such a thing.” The way he stood, leaning against his desk, so carefree, so comfortable. It made you want to rage. How could he be so calm and collected?

“This is only the beginning.” And without a warning, Harrow closed the gap between you. You tried to stand up and struggled against his grip as he reached for your neck again. Your pants were still down between your ankles, making it hard to walk away.

Harrow's grip tightened around your neck, his fingers digging into your skin. With a swift motion, he pushed you forward. The cold surface of the glass desk met your chest, sending a shiver through your body. The sound of rattling glass filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.

"Stay still," he commanded, his voice firm yet dripping with affection.

You heard the zipper but were too busy trying to wiggle out of his grasp. You barely had time to register the command before he positioned himself behind you. His hands roamed over your exposed skin, greedy and unapologetic. You felt the blunt pressure, then the agonizingly slow slide as he entered you. Your breath hitched, pleasure mixing with pain.

"Doctor..." you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer. Another deep thrust. Luckily, your walls were slick from your previous orgasm, providing him easy access and an easy slide.

"Good boy," Harrow murmured, his voice heavy with desire. You felt his hips press fully against your ass, knowing that he was completely inside – as far as your body would allow – and suppressed a little gasp. Damn, this man felt good. Even if he wasn’t the real deal. He surely felt real.

A hoarse rasp in your ear, a dark promise: "I’m going to cure you."

The desk beneath you creaked ominously with each thrust, the glass threatening to give way under the force of your combined weight. But the sensation of him inside you drowned out any fear. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, pushing you further into blissful abandon.

"Do you feel that?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel how deep I'm inside you?"

"Yes, Doctor Harrow... oh god, yes," you moaned, your fingers clawing at the edge of the desk for support.

"Imagine," he continued, his pace relentless, each thrust deep and hard, "me filling you up, making you pregnant. Wouldn't you love that, my sweet boy? To carry my child?"

The words sent a jolt of forbidden excitement through you. The thought of bearing his mark, of being claimed so completely, was intoxicating.

"Yes," you cried out, the confession torn from your soul. "I want it... I want you."

"That's right," he praised, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "You're mine. Only mine."

The rhythm grew frantic, bodies slick with sweat, moving in perfect, chaotic harmony. His hands kept you pinned, his strength a constant reminder of his control. The eroticism of his power, his dominance, fueled your desire, driving you closer to another release.

You liked him like this, always had when he was in control. But him taking you so deep, so passionately… was he truly working you toward your second orgasm of the day?

Your body started to tremble around him, your own voice growing hoarse with each gasp, and cry, and moan.

“More,” he commanded, another firm thrust deep inside. Another echo of wet noises as he pounded you like there was no tomorrow.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You," you screamed, as loudly as your breaking voice allowed you. Your body was twitching and trembling with pleasure. Thank Ammit you had the desk to keep you up because your own legs surely wouldn’t. It felt good, the truth breaking free in desperate gasps. "I belong to you, Doctor Harrow."

A few more firm thrusts. You were nearly there.

And then he paused.

You cursed, teeth gnashing as you tried to move your hips and ass to get some more friction. The glass felt cold against your erect cock, stimulating you – but not enough. Why had he stopped?

You heard the heavy swallow, the way he cleared his throat, then felt how Doctor Harrow leaned over you, cloaking your body entirely with his own.

The hairs of his mustache tickled your ear.

"See?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I told you you'd enjoy the therapy."

Bastard.

You groaned loudly, moving your hips but groaning in disappointment when his hands kept you pinned down, unable to move up and down his shaft.

“Please,” you begged, voice hoarse. It was enough.

"Good boy," he echoed, his tone laced with triumph. "Let go again. For me."

He didn’t wait but started a fast pace, for which you were grateful. Each stroke was deep and hit that right spot inside that had your toes curled and your fingers grasping past the slick surface of the glass.

Your body obeyed, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of pleasure. Everything else faded away leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between you and Harrow. Nothing else mattered.

You clamped down on his cock, earning the stuttering rasped groans in your ear that betrayed he was near as well. A few more deep thrusts and he followed. Warm, hot liquid poured deep inside while his hands held your hips pressed against the cold glass. Your body was throbbing, but so was his shaft as it emptied itself. You imagined the way his balls must be pulsing right now as they were drained dry completely by your deliciously tight cunt.

“Hmm, so greedy,” he murmured, as if he was reading your thoughts. He leaned a little backward, cock still locked inside you, so he could clap a hand firmly to the cheek of your ass.

You did a little yelp, your body scooting forward on the glass, and then tried to look at him from over your shoulder.

“Do you think it will take?” The doctor rasped, his blue eyes finding yours through the reflecting glasses. You felt the way his fingers pried your cheeks open, then slid lower until they pressed inside your cunt, joining his cock.

“You think you’re going to make me a daddy, sweetheart?”

He slowly retracted his cock and seemed to watch how slick seed came dripping from your hole. Holding his cock in his hand, he used his half-hard shaft to rub past your sensitive lips, pushing the semen back in with the tip.

You closed your eyes and allowed him to play with you, your body tired from a second climax and your breath still rapid and uneven.

You felt him push the head of his cock inside you, dipping in and out – almost experimentally – a few times. Then he retracted and the warmth of his body was gone.

"Up," Harrow commanded, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

You barely had time to register the word before he pulled you to your feet. His hand remained firm around your neck, guiding you as he maneuvered behind you. The cold air hit your back, stark in contrast to the heat of his body. He turned you to face him, eyes blazing with an intensity that made your heart race.

"That's it," he murmured, as he held you close, his touch almost tender despite the intensity of what had just transpired.

Finally, he stepped back, leaving you feeling strangely empty without his presence. You noticed the limp when he walked. At least that hadn’t changed. But the half-hard cock you had expected to go limp was curling up proudly again, tipping against Harrow’s stomach as he limped to the other side of the desk. Wait? What?

You groaned, taking a few deep breaths while you watched him lowering himself into his chair with a grace that belied his years. He sat there, pants discarded, watching you with a calm, expectant gaze.

You stood there, catching your breath, the silence stretching out between you. What did he want from you?

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sit on me." His tone was gentle but firm, laced with the promise of more to come. You knew that even if you had wanted to, you could not disobey him.

And a third time? Well, what was one more? Even if this wasn’t your Harrow, he surely was a good fuck. You wouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.

With trembling legs and a racing heart, you moved closer, your skin still tingling from the last wave of pleasure. You discarded your pants fully, even taking the time to take off the rest of your asylum garb until you stood fully naked.

Harrow's eyes were on you, unwavering, his gaze a mix of command and invitation. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping lightly against the metal as if to a rhythm only he could hear.

"Come here," he urged softly, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

You straddled him, knees at either side of his waist. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling him fill you once more. A squelching sound accompanied the movement, as combined slick from you and Doctor Harrow’s semen paved the way for his hard cock to slide deep inside. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming.

"That's it," he whispered, his hands finding your hips, guiding you. "Just like that."

And it was just like that. You preferred this position more, the way your cock rubbed past him, the friction, it was all so much better than the cool glass table had been.

You began to move, the rhythm slow at first, savoring every inch of him within you. He had grown hard again, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your narrow cunt. Each rise and fall brought a fresh surge of heat, a deep ache of pleasure that built with every movement. His grip tightened on your hips, encouraging, guiding, coaxing you to go faster.

"Good boy," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're perfect. Could only be better swollen with child."

The words spurred you on, driving you to quicken your pace. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this intense dance. Sweat slicked your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths filling the silence.  

"Arthur," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "I'm close."

"Then let go," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Show me how much you need this."

The coil of pleasure wound tighter within you, threatening to snap. You rode him harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your back, caressing, encouraging, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

"Come for me," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Your body obeyed, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, his name a prayer on your lips, your vision blurring as ecstasy consumed you. He followed soon after, his own release a powerful surge that left you both trembling.

"That's it, my love," he murmured, holding you close, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me stuff you nice and full. Think of all the cum. Make me a dad.”

He stroked your back gently, the touch tender and soothing. You melted into him, feeling safe, cherished. Even if he wasn’t your Arthur. Nothing else mattered.

“We have made such good progress, haven’t we?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple.

“Progress?’ you asked, blearily. You felt as if your body could take no more, yet he started to gently thrust inside you again.

“One more time,” he said, but you were already shaking your head.

“No.”

“Come on, we have made such good progress,” he moved you up and down his shaft shallowly, but your pussy was oversensitive and each thrust felt like it was too much. You flinched, trying to push him away, but his hand found your cock and flicked against it. You recoiled, back arched, and let out a cry.

“Fuck, I can’t,” you gasped, still struggling in his grip. “It’s too much.”

But as Harrow gently pounded your sore cunt, the world around you seemed to crumble away until everything faded. Even the feeling of being fucked raw.

You sat up and instantly winced. Your body felt sore, pussy even sorer. As if you truly had climaxed three times.

You rubbed your head, eyes slowly getting used to the daylight that already filtered into the room. That was when you noticed him.

Arthur Harrow sat on the edge of your desk, his shoulder-length hair cascading around his face, worry etched into his features. The morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the floor. You’d almost thought he wasn’t real, but then he moved.

"Good morning," Arthur said softly, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves. He leaned forward, the creak of the desk cutting through the silence. "You missed breakfast so I came to have a look. See if you’re all right."

Your mouth felt dry as sandpaper, and you licked your lips, trying to find your voice. "I..."

"It’s all right," he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. "I brought you something." He gestured to a tray beside him, laden with fruit, toast, cheese, and a steaming cup.

The disorientation clawed at your mind, the lines between dream and reality blurring. You stared at the food, your stomach twisting in knots. "Why?"

"Because I care about you," he replied, his gaze unwavering. Those bright blue eyes bored into yours, filled with an earnest concern that made your heart ache.

"Was it... real?" you muttered, the words barely audible.

"Dreams can feel very real, can't they?" Arthur's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He pushed the tray closer to you. "Eat. You'll feel better."

You slowly got out of bed, unperturbed about Arthur seeing you like this. He’d seen you in worse states.

You reached for the toast, your hands trembling. The memory of Doctor Harrow's touch still lingered on your skin, ghostly and persistent. You took a bite, the crunch loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Was it another nightmare?" Arthur asked, concern etching lines across his face.

"Something like that," you admitted after swallowing, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on the tray of food, absently picking at the toast.

"Talk to me," Arthur prompted gently, his voice a soothing balm that eased some of the lingering tension within you. "What happened in the dream?"

“You were there,” you finally confessed, still confused about everything that had just happened.

"I was?" He asked, his voice low and steady. Arthur's blue eyes bore into you, steady and unwavering, as if trying to decipher the secrets hidden within your soul. Your heart pounded in your chest, the lingering effects of the dream making it difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy.

You hesitated before speaking, the weight of the dream heavy on your tongue. "It was you," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "But not you. You were a doctor, in an asylum."

A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur's face, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. "A doctor, huh?" His voice was steady, but you could see the wheels turning behind those piercing blue eyes. "And what did this doctor do?"

You hesitated, a shiver running down your spine as you remembered the way Doctor Harrow's hands felt on you, the controlled strength in his grip. "He… he was...helping me, or at least, that's what he claimed." The words tumbled out in a rush, a confession burning your lips as you spoke. "But it didn't feel like help. It felt like control."

Arthur's hand tightened on your arm, a protective gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. "Did he touch you?”

“Oh yes,” you didn’t know why you confessed so easily, but once you looked up it was to see Arthur’s eyes darken menacingly. “Said it was this new therapy he wanted to try, Was supposed to help me with something, but it only ended with him telling me he wanted to see me carry his baby. It was really weird.”

You finally finished, taking your time to catch your breath and think. In the meanwhile, you studied him. Your Arthur.

"In the dream,” he began, eyes unfocused. “I was... obsessed with becoming a father."

He hesitated, gauging your reaction.

“You sure were. Or well, he sure was,” you clicked your tongue and picked up another piece of toast. Orgasming three times had made you hungry.

"Interesting," Arthur murmured, his expression inscrutable. "And how did that make you feel?"

"Confused," you admitted, mouth full, frowning. "I don't understand why he would tell me that."

"Perhaps there's a reason," Arthur suggested, leaning forward in his chair. "Dreams can be windows into our deepest desires and fears. Maybe this is something you need to explore further."

"Are you saying that I should try to get actual therapy?" You asked, skepticism lacing your words.

"Not quite," Arthur replied, his voice soft but firm. "Trust your instincts."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The idea of delving deeper into Doctor Harrow's fixation unnerved you. And the way your Arthur reacted to your dream had left you puzzled. Did he know there was a dream version of him lingering around? Could he influence it? Hadn’t it just all been inside your head? Because you’d been pretty certain Ammit and the other Gods loved to use familiar faces and an asylum room to bring their messages across.

"I’m hungry now,” you said, reluctantly. "I just want to eat.”

"Good," Arthur smiled, his eyes warm and reassuring. "I will leave you be. But just remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you," you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.

You watched as Arthur stood and made his way to the door, the familiar crunch of glass beneath his feet a constant reminder of his devotion. His silhouette framed by the doorway, he paused and glanced back at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you couldn't quite place. Then he was gone. ~ * ~

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Aaron Taylor Johnson fucks his Ftm boyfriend after a long day of working out for the next movie he is in and he breeds his boyfriend full of cum the there is a slight bulge in his stomach from the cum and the boyfriend love it

(I tried my best with this and I saw you sent another but it's the same as this one so this will be the only one posted. Not proofread.)

(If you know this will cause your dysphoria to spike, don't read it. I only used cock, essences, and entrance.)

I can see Aaron definitely being a munch.

After a long grueling workout for his next role in a movie, he's horny. His cock aching in his gym shorts as he couldn't wait to come home to you.

Whatever it is you're doing, you're not doing it anymore? Whether it be in the kitchen, living room, or any place in the house that has a flat surface, you're pushed onto it. You were disoriented before looking down to see your pants and underwear ripped off.

You felt Aaron wrapping his arms around your legs, forcing them to stay open and to pull you closer to his face. Aaron's scruffy beard rubbed against your thighs as he traced his tongue against the hood of your dick.

Aaron just devoured you. Lapping at your sex as he sucked your cock. His eyes roll back from the taste and smell of your sex. He loves the way you taste and continues to push his tongue deeper into your entrance to drink more. He was drinking everything as if he was cut off from his access to water-- he was dehydrated of you.

Your cries of pleasure and grip of his head spurred Aaron to continue his ministrations and go harder. He focused on your dick, wrapping his mouth around it. Sucking and softly biting it. You could feel the nerves surging through your body. His thick finger slowly thrusting into your entrance.

Aaron pulled back, he was completely drunk off of you. Eyes in daze, and mouth coated with your essences. He fumbled with his pants until he was abled to pull out his aching cock from its cage. He positioned it at your entrance and slowly pushed in.

He groans as he feels your gummy walls swallowing his cock whole. Your essence making it easier to push deeper, it's perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Aaron watched as his cock was completely swallowed by your hole.

After a few minutes of adjustment, kisses, and praises, Aaron didn't hold back. Fucking into you with speed as his cockhead was hitting the right spot. Aaron lasted a long time before he signaled he was going to cum. He was gonna pull out but you begged him not to.

Granting your wish, Aaron began saying his breed you till you popped. He gave a few more thrusts before going still. You could feel his hot thick cum flooding your insides. There was so much cum that, there was a little stomach bulge from the sheer amount pumped into you.

You're definitely gonna let Aaron breed you next time.

[starboye]

boss!price who gets a new pretty little assistant and it just happens to be you, you looked so good in those pants that hugged every part of your ass so well and he wanted to feel it

always touching you a little to long in places that would violate so many hr department rules but he didn't care, he wanted to get in those pants one way or another and one day he finally did, everyone was gone for the night leaving only you and him in his office getting some paper work done

he had asked you to get him some coffee and within minutes you were putting it on his desk before he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto his lap "why not keep an old man company yeah" he lowly said moving his hand to your inner thigh and to your crotch where he was a little confused

he didnt feel a bulge but slickness seeping through your pants "and what's this" he didn't seem to be against it as long as he could fuck you "why dont you find out yourself" you kissed him and in no time you were splayed across his desk taking his fat cock

taking him balls deep and moaning about how good it felt while his fingers played with your clit, rubbing it intensely to give you more pleasure until you were a shaking mess begging him to give you a break but there was no stopping a man like price so you just pushed through each orgasm

"mmm captain you feel you fucking good" you whimpered and oh good gad did that do something to him hearing you pull rank on him had his cock slamming into you harder than before and abusing your precious little cunt until it couldn't take it anymore

even then you don't think he was really gonna let you go that easy, nope he needs one more taste, knelled in front of your leaking pussy before diving in, licking and lapping at it and eating out every drop of cum he fucked into you

your hands tightly held in prices hair tugging at it for him to go deeper, your thighs clasping around his head and squeezing enough to cut off oxygen for a couple of minutes but that still doesn't mean he stops, he's got a mission and he'l be damned if he stops before finsihing it

but it's safe to say your co-workers definitely noticed your limp the next day and the copious amounts of breaks you were spending with price

[yanderestarangel]

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻... 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻

♡⁠┊TW — dp, anal sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fuck, praise, breeedkink, afab reader, dark smut, dead dove, Ghost has two dicks here (because I chose to write it like that)

"Don't look anywhere else, look at me... I'm still your husband." The words were followed by the wet sound of the two cocks of your now radioactively-rayed husband, who looked like a monstrous anomaly — with two extra heads, two extra arms, and... two extra cocks.

You hadn't expected that in thousands of years, but when Simon came out the door completely safe and sound, looking like that was shocking and at least scary to your eyes.

Even so, you were on your hands and knees, feeling one of his cocks enter your ass while the other filled your wet pussy, making you whimper loudly as you felt his very hot and heavy balls hit your clit with the slow thrusts that the military man was giving you.

You could feel every pulsing vein of his shafts in your wet holes, the slickness between your thighs and his groin increasing. His now gray eyes were locked completely on your figure, two of his four arms gripping your waist while the other two held your wrists behind your back, ready to dominate and maneuver you as he pleased.

Hearing your moans of acceptance, his two cocks throbbed like never before, impaling you to the point where you even forgot that your partner was now a shadow of what he once was.

All that mattered in that moment was that you could take every inch of what he was giving you, as if your life depended on it—as if every fluid that came out of his cocks was a poison that made you crave more and more of him.

The slow, flesh-to-flesh pounding that had once been tender was now replaced by Simon's almost animalistic movements above you. A little drool dripped from your mouth as you could only wriggle your toes every time one of his cocks reached the tip of your womb while the other kissed limits you didn’t even know existed.

Grunts escaped his lips, muffled by the mask that was now completely part of his skin, fused to his flesh like a second garment. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to leave marks as a hoarse growl came from his throat, echoing like a triad through his three heads.

"Come on, sweetheart... I know you want to cum, don't deny it... cum for me." His words were tinged with the same honey that once soothed your soul. It was still him, even with that new body—and you felt yourself becoming addicted to it, like a drug, leaving you with pleasure so intense it made your system shut down.

You felt him give one final thrust, and at the same time, your pussy was filled with the warm, viscous liquid of his semen. Your other hole was filled as well, causing tears to spill from your eyes as you whimpered from how full you were. But your partner didn’t stop—Simon continued with small thrusts until he felt your inner walls drain him. One of his many hands moved to your pussy lips, slowly opening them to expose your tight slit as it swallowed his cock.

"I won’t let you leave here until I see you beautiful, full, and carrying my children in your belly... Do you understand, my angel?" His words left no room for argument, and no matter how tired you were, saying "no" wasn't an option. After all, you wanted him too, regardless of his appearance. He was still yours.

[l1tw1ck]

Denial

Omega!Bottom!FTM Kenma x Alpha!Top!Male Reader

Kenma couldn't force himself to think about any hot girls whenever the two of you would get off using each other's bodies. Not even that hot domme he saw on twitter could beat you.

🏐 Word Count: 2,021 🏐

AFAB Language Used | (had this in my drafts since DEC.. i forgor)

CW: Mild Dub-Con, Thigh Fucking, Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Virginity Loss, Fingering, Creampie

“This is just what best friends do, Kenma.” You reassure him as you rub your cock in between his thighs.

“You're such a great friend.” You groan. Kenma silently stares in between his legs, extremely turned on and intimidated by your size.

You convinced him that doing this is perfectly normal between friends and that you’d be helping each other from getting blue balls.

“So you're into that kind of thing, huh?” You ask, looking at Kenma’s phone. He jumps and drops his phone in his lap. “Hey, don't be embarrassed. Nothing wrong with being into pegging. If it makes you feel better I’ll share my kinks too.”

Then one thing led to another and here you are.

It's risky for an alpha and an omega to do this kind of thing since it can escalate pretty quickly but you're both taking suppressants and you're virgins with absolutely no suitors, which helped get Kenma to agree.

“You just gotta imagine I’m a hot girl, like the one in that drawing.”

“Okay-” Kenma shuts his eyes and tries to visualize the hot fictional woman in the drawing he saw online. He tries his best to focus but the only thing he can think about is you. And how fucking hot you sound. The sound of your labored breaths and restricted moans is more than enough to make him come. Is it strange to get off on a guy’s moans? He slightly opens one eye, just enough so that he can see without you realizing, and shuts it right back when he sees you staring straight at him. Did you open your eyes first? Did you realize he opened his?

You bite down on your lip. “Shit— I’m close–” You warn him.

He opens his eyes. “‘s okay..” He mumbles. “You…you can.”

“Yeah? God, you're the best.” You groan. Kenma shudders and orgasms, his pussy longing for you to be inside it. He watches as spurts of cum splatter on his stomach and on the band of his sports bra. He wants to taste it. He wants it inside him. “Did you come?” You ask, wiping him off with a tissue.

“yeah-” Kenma says shakily, leaning back. “We…we should do it again..another time..”

“Agreed. This is so much better than getting rejected all the time.” You grin.

Kenma hugs your pillow as your cock slides back and forth in between in his ass. He’s once again only in his underwear. He has a vibrator, one part stuffed up his cunt and the other pressed against his t-dick. Kenma knows deep down he doesn't need the vibrator and that he could go multiple rounds just with your cock sliding against him but he doesn't want to admit that or worse, admit it to you.

You're under the impression that Kenma’s watching porn with noise cancelling headphones but in reality, the audio is muted and the noise cancelling feature is turned off. It's not gay to like the sound of a guy pleasing himself…it's basically the equivalent to watching porn with a guy who isn't afraid to moan.

“That's it– just lay there while I use you…like a good boy..” You resist the urge to slap his ass.

Kenma bites down on his lip. He’s glad you can't see his face or else you’d realize he doesn't give a shit about the random porno he has playing on his phone.

“So good for me…so fucking good..”

He whimpers quietly, his cheeks red. It’s hard to justify the arousal he’s feeling. He can't even convince himself that he's imagining some random girl saying that to him. He's getting turned on by you, your voice, your hands, your cock, your scent. He really wishes it was him you were thinking about. Then he wouldn't feel so weird.

Kenma’s toes curl when he hears your about-to-come voice. The slight change in pitch and your breathlessness is just what he needed to hear to push him over the edge.

“So good for daddy..” You groan. Nevermind, that is what he needed. Kenma squirts, shaking heavily. You come just seconds later.

You slowly breathe in and out, staring at the cum splatter on his back. There aren't many things more erotic than this. Your eyes trail down to his clothed pudgy cunt, a patch of his gray underwear darker than the rest, making you realize he squirted. God, you wish you could just stuff your face in that.

Kenma turns around and takes off his headphones. “I’ll shower first.”

You lean back into Kenma’s couch and look at him as he's avenging your character's death in the game you're playing. You wonder what he really thinks about all this. “Hey…I’m curious..”

“Hm?” Kenma hums.

“Can I touch you? Like…more than usual?”

He keeps playing the game despite his surprise. “If you want to.” His cheeks are red. “I don't mind doing whatever…cause we’re best friends, like you said.”

“Really? So I could like…finger you and that’d be okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a bit. “You could go all the way..if that's what you want..”

“Wow…okay.” You gulp, slowly inching towards Kenma. You hesitantly place your hand on his thigh before sliding it inside his shorts. He does his best to keep fighting the boss while your fingers explore the space between his legs. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm-” He nods, losing focus as you reach his dick. He lands the final hit on the boss and pauses the game. He can feel your heavy breaths.

“You're so wet— sorry.”

“‘s fine. You can…you can talk.”

You feel more confident now. “I just started and you're already this worked up..” You murmur, sliding a finger inside him. “See how easy that was..” You slowly add a second one. Kenma leans back. His heart is beating so loudly. He sets his controller next to him, then roughly grips the arm of the couch. Your fingering skills need work but Kenma definitely can't tell.

“Uh~ Daddy~” Kenma moans, a bead of sweat drips down his forehead. The noise you made in response makes him shudder.

“Say it again.” You breathe out, somehow finding his g spot.

“Daddy!” He cries out, his cunt aggressively squeezing around your fingers.

“Good boy.” You take your hand out of his pants. The two of you look at each other for a few seconds before turning away. You’ve both decided to ignore the elephant in the room.

“I- I’m gonna…. clean up..” He says, standing up abruptly.

Kenma figures that since you’ve basically given up on getting a girlfriend, he no longer has to feel bad about his arousal towards you. He can just give you everything a romantic partner provides without even having to tell you about his feelings. It's perfect.

“You did really well today.” Kenma holds your hand, pulling you inside your hotel room. “We're going to the quarterfinals ‘cause of you.” He pushes you against the door. He pulls your shorts down while getting onto his knees. He kisses your length and tucks his hair behind his ear.

“This is so much better than an after party.” You throw your head back as he sucks your cock. He makes good use of his tongue as he takes all of you in his mouth. Kenma’s head bobs up and down while he humps his hand.

The two of you jump at the sound of knocking at the door.

“Hey!” Kuroo calls out your name. Kenma knows he should get up and hide in the bathroom but he just can't pry himself away from your cock. You grab a fistful of Kenma’s hair and push him further along your length, letting him know you don't want him to leave either. “You're not coming to the party?” He jiggles the door handle. Kenma looks up at you with the most seductive eyes you've ever seen, his tongue swirls around your cock.

“Are you asleep?” He knocks again.

“I’ll be there later!”

“You better be! You're the reason we're celebrating! And tell Kenma to come too!” Kuroo leaves.

The adrenaline rush makes your cock erupt like a volcano in Kenma’s mouth. Kenma swallows it all then stands up. He leans into your ear. “I’ll give you something else after the party.” He smiles, making his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

As soon as you get back to the hotel room, you press Kenma against the door, reversing your previous positions. You couldn't stop the guys from getting you drunk. You forgot you're not supposed to drink alcohol when you're taking suppressants and now you're extremely horny. “Sorry, Ken-” You mumble with your face buried in his neck. “You're such a good friend for me…so fucking good, baby.” You quickly expose both of your lower halves and grab Kenma’s legs, your dick throbbing against his pussy.

“Wa- wait-” Kenma looks down. He was planning for this but he didn't anticipate you acting like this. He's only a little tipsy but he can tell his scent is making you drunker. And your strong pheromones definitely aren't helping him suppress his own.

“You can handle it, Ken, it won't even hurt.” You slowly align the tip of your cock with his entrance. “‘Cause your pussy’s made for me. It’ll fit.”

His cheeks are burning hot. He knows you're super drunk and super influenced by your arousal and his pheromones but hearing that makes his heart flutter. He is made for you. Every part of him. It won't hurt. “Ye- yeah- it's made for you.” He watches your lips curl into a smile.

“That's right.” You slowly slide inside him without much resistance. “There we go…there we go, baby.”

Kenma digs his blunt nails into your shoulders and presses his head against the door. It does hurt but it's not as bad as he thought. He moans your name. None of the dildos he's used could even come close to your cock.

“Fuck—” You moan. You sink your teeth into his neck. Kenma gasps, his eyes widening. You marked him. He bites down on his lip and grins as you bottom out. He knows it's wrong but he's so glad you marked him. Now you have no choice but to stay with him. You belong to him.

You thrust into him slowly. “You feel so good..”

He moans your name. “Yes- yes– like that—” He loves the pace you're going at, it gives him the opportunity to really take you in properly. He doesn't even care if his teammates can hear him. He's too happy. “Daddy~”

“‘M gonna knock you up, Ken…breed you til you're full.” You grow.

“Yes! Breed me~!” Kenma squeals. He rolls his eyes back and moans shamelessly. He's already gonna come.

You quicken your thrusts. “Mine.” You both reach your climax at the same time, his pussy happily takes in your seed.

You slowly open your eyes. Kenma’s next to you fast asleep and wearing your shirt. Your memories of last night are foggy. All you remember is fucking Kenma and marking him. You wonder if he’s mad at you. You hope not...this is what you wanted all along. You didn't plan for it to happen so soon though.

He wakes up thanks to you shuffling out of bed. He says your name sleepily.

“Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up.”

“‘s fine.” He sits up. “Last night…”

“I…I barely remember it, but I know I marked you..” You stare at the teeth marks on his neck. “I’ll take full responsibility. You're my best friend so I won't abandon you.”

“Thanks..” He smiles softly. “I don't mind. It's better than dealing with rejection and break ups, right?”

“Right.” You nod, smiling back.

“Can you help me shower? My legs are sore.”

“Of course." You pick him up.

The team stares at you and Kenma as you sit down for breakfast. They're almost done eating. Kenma’s ears are bright red.

“Soo…” Kuroo pokes the last chunk of his food with his fork. “Should we be worried about…a baby….?”

[swtheartz]

sinister mark who lost his version of you in his world, so when he makes his deal with angstrom, his ultimate goal is you. don’t let him catch you because he won’t even wait until he’s back in his own dimension, he’s got you in a mating press while he’s SUPPOSED to be wreaking havoc.