#he runs his hand through the mess you made and jerks off while you try to catch your breath 🥴

[onismdaydream]

leon begging you to keep riding his abs, his big hands on your hips and helping you glide across his slick covered stomach. his cock is leaking steadily, having been neglected as he keeps his focus on you. your pretty lashes with those pretty tears that fall down to your pretty mouth letting out those pretty sounds. your wet cunt is rubbed raw by now, working yourself into overstimulation because he just wants one more, c'mon pretty girl, just one more.

and you can't deny him anything, so you give him everything you have. even more than you intended to.

you feel yourself shake with the release, the dam bursting as you unintentionally piss on him. you're mortified. but he just groans, the warm piss coating his skin and mixing with your cum and juice, marking him as yours. his chest and stomach are so wet and messy and sticky but he doesn't care, he just grabs your head and crashes your lips together, mumbling about how perfect you are and how hot is it, and please, baby, want you to do that all the time, i'll be so good for you, promise.

[rinhaler]

ok but like nanami or geto fucking us in a room and gojo just goes in without knocking and sees. and it’s all awkward and he leaves but then ends up going into another room to jerk off cause it was kinda hot…

i would like to maintain that i am not a getou fucker but i hope u enjoy this nonnie :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, vaginal sex.

words: .9k

“O-Oh, shit, Suguru… should we stop?” you pant, your boyfriend still smothering your neck in soft kisses. It’s an answer in itself, but he still feels compelled to breathe the words softly against your skin.

“No, sweetheart, he’ll be fine.” he coos, nibbling on your earlobe. Ultimately distracting you completely from the awkward encounter of being walked in on while you’re naked with Suguru’s cock balls deep in your cunt.

Satoru leans against the wall for a moment while your bare form runs rampant through his mind. The way your swollen, bitten lip fell from your teeth as you moaned while riding Suguru’s thick length.

The way skin slapping against skin filled the room as he relentlessly pounded into you. How sweaty you both appeared to be. You must have been at it for a while. And Satoru has never been so jealous.

He’d always had a thing for you, but kept it to himself out of respect for his best friend. But, fuck, that’s a hard thing to ignore. And now he’s dealing with another hard thing to ignore.

He shouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he finds himself instinctively walking to his own dorm room and leaning against the wall that he shares with Suguru. He can still hear you going at it. And his heart flutters.

You know how thin the walls are, and yet you’re making no effort to conceal your salacious little moans. You’re doing it for him, aren’t you? That’s what he thinks, anyway. That’s how he reasons it as he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it to the ground. His sweats come down just enough for him to grab his aching cock.

And the little hiss he emits is pornographic as he makes contact with himself. He’s so turned on, so sensitive it’s almost sore to touch himself. But he can’t help it. He needs this.

He runs his hand over his drooling cockhead and is even taken aback himself by what a mess you’ve made of him. Without even trying. His head falls back against the wall with a gentle thump as he closes his eyes and imagines he is the one fucking you right now. The way you’re trying to be quiet but failing completely as Suguru continues to fuck up into you and viciously pound against your g-spot without remorse.

It should be him.

He looks down at his cock. It’s red and throbbing with a burning desire to be stuffed inside of your precious little cunt.

“Hhng, ah! Suguru! Don’t, d-don’t stop baby.. haaah~!”

Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Even if his hand wasn’t already blurring as he fucks into his fist, he’d have to after that. You want him to hear, he was right. You want him to get off to the idea of you. Of fucking you. Of being a seedy little witness to your filthy show.

You act so innocent, but you aren’t. He should have known.

It’s always precious little things like you that are the most depraved.

He doesn’t want to stop touching himself. He wants to enjoy the feeling of pleasuring himself with you at the same time forever. But he can hear your hitching breaths. The way you’re struggling to keep up with Suguru and how he has to help you even more.

He doesn’t want to stop.

But he has to cum with you.

The way Suguru tries to silence himself as he shoots his load inside of you makes him smile. Like it’s some secret that you’re fucking. It’s well past that, now. Gojo had already borne witness to your natural instincts consuming you both.

He fists his cock faster. Harder. Suguru doesn’t stop fucking you, rubbing your clit with his thumb all the while. He can hear it in your shaky breaths. You're close. You’re so fucking close.

And you’ll cum together.

How romantic.

He doesn’t hold back his own moans as he hears you succumb to your building orgasm. It’s only right that you know what you’ve done to him, he thinks. And for a moment, it goes silent, when you realise what is happening in the room next door.

You’re covering your mouth, much to Suguru’s dismay. He yanks your hand away and interlocks his fingers with yours. Still fucking his softening cock into you relentlessly.

“Don’t be shy,” he smirks, “We wanna hear your pretty moans.”

And Satoru’s cock spurts glob after glob of white, shimmering cum onto his stomach as he moans boisterously for you. Suguru really is the best friend he could ask for. He could have so easily stopped fucking you and started a fight over the fact he’s masturbating over you.

He’s generous. Sharing you and your gorgeous moans with him. He didn’t have to, of course. But Suguru knows how lucky he is to have you. He feels sorry for every other man on earth since he knows no one else can have you.

“Fuuuuuuck me.” Satoru sighs as he finishes, jerking every last drop of cum he possibly can.

“You’re welcome, Satoru,” Suguru laughs, knocking his knuckle against the wall behind him. You collapse above his body, resting your head on his shoulder as you come down from your high. “Don’t make a habit of it, though.”

“A habit?” he laughs, knowing it’s far too late for that. “Next time, I want to watch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[hispg]

Love can't wait

Pairings: r2! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: Someone's horny in the middle of the night, and you'll have to take care of his 'problem'.

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, making out, oral (f receiving), sloppy sex, whiny Leon.

An: Last week was a real mess. My birthday, I ended up being sick all week, I'm slowly recovering. And to make matters worse, I'm in my exam week💀

My brain is melting😭 Tomorrow I promise to answer the comments and asks🤝

I've only just managed to post, I had this draft ready and thought I should post it so I wouldn't run out of things to post. I didn't read it, so sorry for any mistakes.

"Baby, please..." Leon whimpered in your ear, hugging you from behind, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your neck.

He was grabbing you by the hips, his erection bumping against your ass as you tried to sleep, which was impossible with you being humped by the man behind you.

He'd been awake for a while, desperate to fuck you, who knows why he woke up with his cock hard in the middle of the night. Jerking off wasn't enough, he needed you.

"Leon.... Tomorrow..." You mumble, trying to bury your head in the pillow.

You heard him protest in a whimper, pressing his erection hard against you, making you moan softly into the pillow, and he grunted at the contact. He wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Love...." He pleaded, giving your jaw a light bite, not wasting a second and promptly sliding his hand under your clothes, caressing your belly, feeling your skin slide under his fingers.

His other hand went behind your neck, up to the back of your head where he began to massage, bringing his lips to your cheeks, giving wet kisses all over your face.

"Please..." He whispered, not caring if he sounded desperate or not, he just wanted you, it was the only thing on his mind.

You didn't even have time to answer, he was quick enough to move his hand down to your ass, opening your ass cheeks and pressing his erection in the middle, rubbing back and forth.

He was so needy that you could already feel him leaking through his underwear, his hoarse, whimpering voice echoing in your ears. Just by the state he was in, you were already starting to feel wet.

"You feel so good..." He whispered, moving against you harder, eliciting several low moans from you.

You could feel his nails digging into your soft flesh, holding your ass open for him to rub against you.

He was drooling on you, his kisses on your neck becoming more and more desperate, his tongue coming out of his mouth to lick the whole length of your skin, his body shaking with precipitation.

If you didn't let him do what he wanted to you, he'd certainly be able to cum in his pants.

"I need you so much..." He whispers, bringing his hand up to your breasts, gently caressing them up until then.

"Leon... Mhm..." You murmured in a somewhat sleepy voice, shifting a little in bed.

He whimpered in your ear, pushing you down a little further, grinding against you with a little more vigor, and it wasn't long before he had your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his digits.

"I need to fuck you... I want it so bad it hurts." He purred, giving your nipple a vicious tug, and the unexpected action made you gasp.

Seeing that he wouldn't get any response from you at this point, he quickly turned you over on the bed, laying you on your back.

Before you could protest, he captured your lips in a languid kiss, his lips crashing against yours in a primal way, as if he couldn't help himself.

He kissed you so hard that at one point you could feel his teeth chattering against yours, he kissed you in such a sloppy, desperate way. Just as he began to press his erection into the mattress, wanting to relieve himself in some way.

You were so trapped at this point that at some point you just started moaning against each other, as if the kissing session was all you needed to go over the edge.

Almost painfully, the two of you broke apart, breathing heavily and quickly, almost out of breath from the intensity of your kisses.

When he looked at you, seeing your cheeks so red, the way your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took. Oh, and those lips, the way you looked at him so slyly like that.

At the same moment he felt his cock throbbing inside the confines of his pants. As if it were a last desperate act, he stuck his face between your breasts, sticking his tongue out in a clumsy way, sucking on your nipple as if it were the last thing he was going to do.

You moaned against the pillow, pushing his head against your breast. He grunted at the sudden contact, sucking on you desperately.

Despite not wanting it at first, you found yourself soaking wet now, grinding your pussy against his thigh that was between your legs, and he grinned like a bastard when he saw the state you were in.

"Mhm.... I want to fuck you..." He whispers, taking his mouth off your breast, searching for air, and he could already see the imprint of his lips around your breast.

You smiled slyly, rubbing your wetness against him hard, and in response he put a wide palm on your chest, lowering his face so that he could kiss you, leaving no part of your face untouched.

"Can I taste you? Please, please." He pleaded in a sly voice, tugging on your nipples once more, his mouth kissing you wetly and incessantly all over your face.

Fuck, how could you say no when he was asking so nicely?

When he saw you nod, Leon gave you a sly smile, turning you over so that you lay on your back properly, lifting your clothes to gain access to your thighs.

Once he had your legs open, he licked his lips, looking at your pussy which was already wet and waiting for him. In the blink of an eye he buried his face in your folds, sticking his tongue out and licking the entire length of your flesh, lapping at your skin like a hungry man, making loud, impure slurping sounds.

You could feel his nose hitting your clit every time he stuck his tongue into your needy hole, his hot muscle moving in and out in an incessant manner. His hands gripped your thighs in a firm way, leaving red marks from his fingers, from how hard he was holding you.

"So good, mhmm, you're so hot..." He murmurs against your slit, giving you an awkward smile, then going back to licking you all over again.

You were so red, your cheeks burning as you squirmed on the bed, your lips parted as you moaned, your hips moving back and forth, searching for more friction. Leon groaned when he felt your hand on his blond strands, which you took advantage of to push him against you, making him sink into your heat.

"Fuck-" You whimper, tugging at his hair, and he lets out a low murmur in response, giving your clit a hard suck, then sinking his tongue into your hole once more.

His cock was aching and throbbing in his pants, and he couldn't help himself, unconsciously humping the bed, eating you out desperately, wanting to taste your sweetness again and again.

You soon began to feel that warm sensation forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind becoming more and more blurred with each caress of his tongue. Your furrows running down his chin, his mouth completely moist from the result of your arousal.

"Cum, cum, baby, cum on my tongue." He whispers, working tirelessly on your cunt, with no intention of stopping.

And there you went, unable to hold back the orgasm that washed over you when he licked and caressed you like that. You gushed out your juices, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once you felt the hot liquid being squirted out of you.

"Fuck Leon!" You let out a moan mixed with a sigh, your face all red with pleasure.

Faced with the scene, Leon didn't have much to do, his cock, which was throbbing painfully in the constraints of his pants, no longer hurt, he just felt the warmth forming in his body. Only to feel the thick ropes of cum spilling out, staining all his clothes. He didn't even realize it, he couldn't even hold back his own urges.

Leon couldn't even hide the blush that appeared fiercely on his cheeks, he felt so ashamed that he hadn't been able to hold back. But you couldn't blame him, every time he stared at your wet folds he couldn't help it, he felt all his blood pulsing to his lower body.

"I love the taste of you." He says in a sweet voice, as if he hadn't just eaten you out like a starving man.

When you regained your senses, you focused your gaze on him, and watched as he licked up all the rest of your fluids, licking his lips when he'd finished, then getting down on his knees.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise." He says in a purr, soon putting his pants down, along with his underpants.

You saw a part of his cock, the pink tip that was dripping, not only that, but it was all sticky with his cum. At that moment you felt your pussy get even wetter.

Your legs remained open as you watched him, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock.

When he started masturbating, dirty, erotic moans came out of his mouth, whimpers so sly that you could spend the night watching him.

Leon could feel his cock getting harder and harder in his hand, with every movement, a little trail of pre-cum running down his pink tip.

"Mhm.... I'm going to fuck you. You're going to feel so good." He said, so sweetly, but at the same time looking at you in such a naughty way.

Once again he positioned himself on top of you, his tip resting lightly against your entrance. His cum mixing with yours, your fluids mixing with his, making a slippery mess.

You gripped the sheets tightly, biting your lower lip, your body moving involuntarily against him, begging for any other movement.

"You're so beautiful..." Leon purrs, giving you a little distraction, because right after that line he thrust hard against you.

He entered you at once, completely, without even letting you breathe. You went to heaven when you felt all that stretching once again, your walls stretching to accommodate him, your tight pussy wrapping itself tightly around him, making him grunt in response.

"Fucking tight-" he growls, placing his hands on your hips, letting his fingers sink into your skin.

He slowly put his body up against yours, letting his weight rest on you a little. His hips jerked against yours, his fingers leaving red marks on your hips.

Your mouth opened to let out a silent whimper, while your eyes closed tightly as he thrust all the way in and hit that spongy spot that made you see stars every time.

You swore you couldn't even hear yourself anymore, or know whatever inarticulate sounds you were letting out. The only sensation that was in your body was the sloppy thrusts, his tip reaching deep points, touching your cervix from time to time.

" Tight little pussy, so fucking good." Leon purrs, his hips moving against yours in an almost involuntary way, as if he no longer had any control.

Just as he could no longer hold back all the noises he let out every time you squeezed around him, your walls wrapped around his cock so tightly that he was trying not to roll his eyes every time it happened.

You could already feel your body heating up once again, you could even see the bodily signs that it wouldn't be long before you went over the edge once more. And Leon would be lying if he didn't say the same thing.

In a failed and desperate attempt to drown out his sounds, he put his mouth on yours, kissing you passionately and hotly, increasing the speed with which he thrust into you. In and out, in sync with the roll of your hips.

You felt your body shiver when he put his tongue inside your mouth, exploring everything he could, wanting to feel everything you could offer him.

It was the last straw for you to come, creaming all over his cock, making another mess of the sheets. The sensation of you moaning against his mouth, or the way he felt you cumming for him so easily, was a spark of electricity in his body.

All you understood was some cursing that came out of him, then his hot cum inside you. He was going to pull out, hell, he knew he shouldn't cum inside you. But how could he take his cock out of you when you nestled so perfectly?

The two of you were a mess, barely able to breathe, his forehead resting under yours as he tried to catch his breath.

And then he smiled innocently, whispering, "Round two?"

You rolled your eyes, he wasn't serious.

"No, it's two in the morning. We should be asleep." You retorted, and he nodded with a displeased pout.

He promptly got off you, rolling onto his side and hugging you from behind once again, keeping you close. He seemed quite relaxed now.

It's a long night, although he's satisfied now, maybe he just needs a little more love throughout the evening.

[gatorbites-imagines]

can i request for power bottom Butcher (the boys) overstimulating subtop male reader until he's basically crying and shaking? :3 bonus points if reader has powers (but is not a sup)

Billy Butcher x Supe male reader

Ficlet

This lit something in my brain, but I am also tired, so the writing might be kinda messy. I didn’t have any specific powers in mind, but spiderman was in the back of my mind, so kinda based off that.

It’s been hard to get in the smut writing mood for a while, so im tryna dip my toes back into it. Hopefully it’s still good even though I’m rusty.

not proofread 🤞

The motel room was hot and humid, sweat running down the side of your forehead and into your hairline. You could taste the salt whenever you licked your lips, the dingy mattress under you soaked from all the sweat and other bodily fluids that had left not only you but Butcher as well.

The yellowed sheets were streaked with dirt from his heavy boots as he crouched above you, your chest shuddering as his strong hands grasped tightly at your calves. If it wasn’t for your healing factor, dark bruises would have dug into them a while ago, but they faded as soon as Butcher left them on you, making him grumble something about supes and their stupid powers.

You were the only one naked out of the two of you, body glistening in what little light passed in through the blinds, your hair a mess and eyes wet from unshed tears. Butcher had only kicked off his pants, even dragging them down and off, leaving his boots on before he had clambered up onto the bed and shoved your legs up by the knees.

Amazon position, you think it was called, something you had only seen online once or twice. But here was Butcher, smirking down at you as you grip at the sheets, tearing the cheap covers like tissue paper as you panted and moaned. There was something feral in his eyes as you tried to hump up into him, but the way he held your legs and pressed his weight down on you made it almost impossible, even with your super strength.

“B-Butch” you pant out, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to find the words, tongue feeling thick and useless, leaving you floundering like a fish out of water. You two had been going for hours, or rather, Butcher would push and pull at you, put his mouth on you, or jerk you till you were almost there. But then he would pull back, patting you on the head and telling you “Be good” before doing something else.

It could be anything from scrolling through the few channels on the cheap motel tv, to him going out to smoke a cigarette, or leaving to just wander the area or going to the store. The last one he had done before he came back to climb on top of you as he was now, his sturdy body bearing down on you so deliciously.

You were so close, close enough that it made you feel like you were about to cry. Something Butcher could easily tell, if the growing predatory smirk on his face meant anything. A warbled cry left you as he pulled up and off you again, a slick wet noise sounding as his hole pulled off your cock. You didn’t need to look to know that your length was a deep pained color, your balls so full and heavy that they felt almost as tortured as your cock.

Butcher laughed, voice heavy and dominant in the way that made your brain feel like mush melting out of your ears. Your bottom lip drew up and wobbled as you tried hard not to beg or cry, vision growing so blurry with tears even as Butcher’s hand reached down and patted your cheek. “Come on pup, you can take it, can’t ya?” he laughed, his voice so deliciously taunting and cruel that it made you throb, precum pouring out of your slit and down your sensitive aching shaft.

“Ya wanna be good for me, I know you do. My little supe” Butcher purred, leaning down just enough to ghost a kiss against the crown of your head. His satisfied tone made the tears spill over, a shaky sob leaving your chest as you dug your fingers into the mattress, a loud rip ringing out throughout the motel room.

The tsk that left Butcher made your heart ache, another pitiful pained sob leaving you. But this time it was not from the gut aching need to cum, but the very idea that you might have disappointed him. As his hand cradled your face more surely, you couldn’t help but nuzzle into it, kissing at his callused palm as you whimper out broken slurred apologies.

The silence felt heavy and loaded, but in the end, Butcher just sighed like one would sigh if they found out their pet had chewed up the carpet. “Can’t expect a supe like you to control himself. But ya did good enough, good boy” he rumbled out. And before you knew it, that tight wet heat was swallowing up your cock once more, punching the breath out of your chest as you keened, lost for words as Butcher started riding you like he was punishing you.

“come on boy, cum for me, show me what a supe like you has to offer” he growled out in that hot purred way, his weight slamming down on you as he worked his knees. You felt dizzy, sweat pouring off your body as you gasped and let out noises closer to a bark than a moan, the noise punched out of you every time his weight fell on your own.

It was almost enough, but there was something missing, even Butcher seemed to realize this. So, as you cried out tears of edging and sensitivity, Butchers strong hand grasped your chin, pressing his thumb and fingers into your jaw to make it unhinge and hang open. Your vision cleared up just enough to see him purse his lips, and watch as he spat into your mouth.

You couldn’t even tell if his spit had hit your tongue before you came, a noise coming from deep inside your chest as your entire body shook, jolts and quivers rushing through you as your entire lower body burned. It felt like you were underwater, his deep voice nothing more than a pleasant hum as he presumably praised you, his body pressing down on yours more insistently until you could only imagine he had finished too.

You felt like a well loved toy when he rose up off of you, standing on the ruined torn mattress as you spread out like an unfolded piece of paper, silent tears still running down your cheeks as you shivered from the aftershocks. A shaky whimper left you as you sensed Butcher getting off the bed and leaving to somewhere, but he was back before you could start crawling out of that blurry but pleasant spot you were in.

Butcher pressed kisses to your sweaty hair as he wiped you down, his voice low as he rumbled more praise and words of affirmation, even though he knew you couldn’t fully register what he was saying yet. His beard tickled as the kisses traveled down to your cheek, before they pressed against your own, Butcher leaving a sweet lingering kiss on your bitten lips.

Easily Butcher picked you up, moving you to the second bed of the motel room. There was no saving of the torn monstrosity that had been the bed he had played with you on all day, with the large rips and the stuffing spilling out. Hed remember to leave extra cash for it when you two left.

With a sigh Butcher shrugged off the rest of his clothes, crawling into bed beside you, letting you melt into his hairy chest as Butcher scrolled through the few channels on the tv. He settled on some Spanish telenovela, a loving huff leaving him as he felt your hands sticking to his chest as you lost grip of your powers. With a last kiss to the top of your head, Butcher settled back, letting you take all the time you needed to come back to earth. After that, he would get some food and drink in you, and a shower, you both needed that.

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere psychopath boyfriend x male reader. You discover that your boyfriend killed people and try to leave the forest where he lived, but you end up being caught by him. He decides to punish you through the bed with rough sex and overstimulation

I fw this

Yandere Psychopath bf x Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, murder, noncon

Your boyfriend has always been...strange, but you never expected this. You thought he just liked nature, and that was why he lived in a cabin in the woods. You thought he liked the peace, like you did. That he just enjoyed growing his garden and living practically entirely off the grid. The seclusion...that was a better way to put it.

You couldn't look at him the same since you saw it. Since you saw him killing someone in cold blood. He had the nerve to act so lovingly to you when he did something like that.

You couldn't get it out of your mind. The way that poor man's blood covered him, the pool of red standing the grass and seeping into the dirt. The way he chopped up his victim and stuffed the bits into a bag. The bag he used for his fertilizer.

You clearly weren't safe. You had to leave.

One night, while he was asleep, you snuck out and ran. You ran like your life depended on it. Because it did.

You didn't make it far. A trap. He had traps set up all over the place. A large net caught you, forcing you off the ground. You struggled to get out, but your adrenaline eventually wore off.

You didn't know how long it was until he came along, holding a bloody knife. "Aw, darling, were you trying to get out? I guess that means you know my nasty little secret, huh?"

He cut you out of the net, not giving you a second to even try running before he grabbed you by the scalp and dragged you back, kicking and screaming. "You should know you aren't allowed to run. I'm gonna have to punish you now."

Getting back to the cabin, he forced you upstairs and threw you on the bed. Before you could scramble to get away, he once again grabbed your scalp and forced you to kiss him, shoving his tongue down your throat.

His free hand, still holding the knife he had, cut your clothes off. He finally discarded the knife and started to roughly jerk you off.

He only broke the kiss when you were practically suffocating. "You think you can run away from me, huh? Think you can just leave?" He roughly bit into your shoulder, licking up the blood he drew. "No, I don't think so. You're mine. All fucking mine."

Letting go of your head, he shoved two of his fingers down your throat. "Suck."

When he was satisfied, or tired of it, he yanked out his fingers, only to suddenly shove them deep inside your hole. He stretched you wide, getting your insides nice and wet before suddenly replacing his fingers with his cock.

He didn't waste a second to start pounding into you like a wild beast. He bit you more, leaving bleeding marks all across your shoulders, neck, collarbone, and chest.

"Thought you could get away with trying to leave me, huh?" A harsh smack echoed through the room as he spanked you. "Think you're too good for me or something?" And another. "You're mine." Another. "And I'm going to fuck it into you until you can't even walk out of this room."

He continued to thrust into you, hitting against that special spot harder and harder. He didn't stop, not for a second.

Even when you came, the first time of many that night, he only got rougher.

He didn't give a second of rest, and he wasn't going to. Not until he made you a moaning, sobbing, drooling mess begging for his forgiveness. Then he'd go back to the loving and gentle boyfriend you knew. But only once he was sure you understood not to leave him.

I feel like the end was a bit rushed tbh

[mistywaves98]

first time requesting but oh my goodness meena i need more loser scara pretty please 😔🙏🙏

I feel so awful today and was in the mood to write something about Scara, so here I am

✧･ﾟ:* ->Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Fingering, Scara is down bad, Mirror sex, Slight bondage, Praise (pretty girl, good girl), Pussy slapping (once)!

Scaramouche just couldn't get enough of the way your pretty pussy looked wrapped around his fingers. A wide, lopsided grin adorned his face as he observed the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. You were on his lap, legs spread wide as he held your back against his chest. One hand held your thighs apart, the other knuckle deep inside of you.

His eyes were fixated on the sight of your cunt sucking him in as he slowly pumped his slender fingers in and out of you while you whimpered sweetly for him. You were squirming in pleasure, hands tugging at the sort rope that bound your hands behind your back, leaving you at his mercy as he tortured you with the snail's pace he was moving his hand at.

Every drag of his digits left you shuddering, hips bucking desperately into his palm as you begged for him to move faster. The consistent movement caused your ass to brush the bulge in his pants one too many times, making him grit his teeth before moaning as your walls tightened around his fingers,"Fuuck... Your pussy's so tight, clenching around me so fucking hard— Hnn— Stop moving so much, it's like you're trying to rile me up on purpose..!"

"I'm not, I-I swear! Just pleasee move your fingers a little faster...! I can't—!!" Your plea is cut short as a sharp slap is delivered to your pussy, making you flinch the sound resonating throughout the otherwise quiet room, save for a couple gasps and moans,"You can and you will take it." Scaramouche says in a tone that leaves no room for arguing and before you know it, his fingers part your slick folds once again, three digits sliding in easily with a wet squelch as he thrusts them at a faster pace.

Your face is flushed and sweaty, jaw gone slack as pitiful whines and groans escape your parted lips. The pleasure clouds your vision, eyes going glassy as your mind becomes a blurry haze. He relishes the sight, looking at the mirror intently as the urge to make you cum becomes more apparent. The hand hooked under your thigh goes to slip under your shirt, up to your braless chest where he proceeds to play with the soft mound of flesh there, giving your erect nipple a hard twist when you least expect it.

The added stimulation makes you even wetter, your essence soaking his lap as your orgasm approaches. Scaramouche realizes this and his thumb begins to massage your puffy clit in gentle circles while his fingers curl and hook against your sweet spot, smirking as he feels you jerk in his hold and squeal,"Ohh, you like that, huh? Come on, that's it, moan for me, pretty girl. Wanna hear your sweet fucking voice as you squirt around my fingers.."

Your face contorts into an expression of pure bliss as your head falls back against his shoulder, your climax so close now. And it doesn't take long before you're cumming hard around him, warm juices coating his fingers as your body trembles. He gets a full view through your reflection, almost cumming in his pants himself at the utterly erotic sight of you coming undone around him.

After helping you ride out your high, he removes his drenched fingers from your swollen pussy, admiring the mess you've made on them before sucking and licking off the tasty nectar. Scaramouche cradles you close, his cock still rock hard, but you're clearly exhausted and his pleasure can wait. Seeing you take his fingers was good enough anyway. He buries his face in your neck, occasionally nibbling and running his tongue over the sweaty skin, feeling his face flush at the salty taste before murmuring in your ear,"You took me so well, good girl. As much as I'd love to fuck you on my cock right now, I think it's better if we go prepare you a nice bubble bath. Wait here, I'll start running the water."

[chamomiletealeaf]

imagine laying down with Soap watching TV and snaking your hand into his boxers and just nonchalantly stroking it

MHM MHM

You'd act like nothing's happening either.

Warnings: handjob, Soap being whiney, reader teasing Soap, dom/sub dynamics

The TV lights up the room as the frames on screen go from one to the next as you and your boyfriend Johnny watch a movie. It was one of those lazy Sundays and you two had spent the whole day snuggling with one another.

Soap sits there with his shirt off, beefy biceps and hairy chest and torso on display, the lighting of the room exaggerating the divots of his abdomen.

He looked fucking hot, to say the least.

You look up at him and then drag your eyes down his body, which he notices and laughs at your desperation.

"See something you like bonnie?" He asks, and you smile.

"Not sure what you're getting at Johnny. Just lookin'." You tease.

He looks down at you, perky tits showing through his shirt you're wearing and your thighs and ass being squeezed perfectly by the tiny pajama shorts you have on.

He leans down to kiss you and you kiss him back, both of you trying to ignore the heat stirring deep in your cores.

He pulls back to play with the hem of your excuse for shorts and chuckles.

"What's so funny?" You ask with a smile.

"Nothin' bonnie, just, you look adorable." He says, dragging his hand up into the pant hole of your shorts to grip your thigh making you giggle.

"We're gonna miss the movie." You say.

It's a movie you've both seen a million times, so you know that's not true.

You both go back to watching the movie, but after about 10 minutes you slide your hand over Johnny's thick cock obstructed by his sweats.

He hisses and bucks his hips up.

"Fuck- what are you up to ya cheeky lass." He whispers in your ear.

"What?" You look at him while you palm him over his sweats.

"What are you talking about baby?" You say with innocent doe eyes, and he scoffs with disbelief.

"Don't fuck- don't play fucking dumb lass you're palming my cock and if you don't stop soon I'm gonna have to shove your face into this couch and fuck that wee cunt raw." He growls in your ear and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

You feel like playing with fire tonight, so you remove your hand, getting him to think you're gonna stop (which he doesn't actually want you to do anyway), but then you smirk and run your hand down his happy trail to then shove your hand in his boxers and squeeze his leaking cock.

"Fuck." Johnny moans, throwing his head back.

You sit up on your knees and rest your head in the crook of his neck while you continue to jerk him off.

"What's the matter sweetie? What's got you so pent up?" You say biting his earlobe.

Johnny whimpers as you run your thumb over his slit and his eyes roll back for a moment.

You smirk and grab his face, turning him towards you so your foreheads touch. You run your thumb over the blush painting his cheeks pink as he pants like a dog.

"Hmm your face is so warm and flushed baby. Might have a fever or something. You feeling ok?" You continue your teasing with a fake pout, acting like you're not fisting his cock under his sweats.

"S- stop being cheeky you minx." He huffs through gritted teeth.

You then giggle and latch your lips onto his neck, slowly running your tongue over his little sweet spot under his jaw as you speed up the movement of your hand pumping his cock.

Johnny is a whining and panting mess as he babbles out how he's gonna get you back for this, but the way he pathetically whimpers them out contradicts the sternness of his words.

"Ah- mhm- God you're not gonna be able to fuckin' think after I pin you down and fuck you nice and rough the way you like it after this hm? Ah- fuck just like that don't stop." He curses and grunts, trying to sound frustrated.

You stop sucking on his neck and press your cheek to his to look down at the wet spot he's made in his pants. Still on your knees next to him with your tits squished against his chest.

"Oh I'm sure you will sweetie. But for now lemme see you cum for me baby. Make a mess for bonnie hm?" You brush off his promises to get you back despite the way it makes your pussy flutter and you tease him with the little nickname he has for you.

"Mhm..Mhm..Mhm.." Johnny muffles his approval through a bitten bottom lip, encouraging you to continue as you both keep your eyes fixated on your hand moving under the fabric of his gray sweatpants, cheeks still pressed together.

Then, Johnny grips your wrist and moans breathily as he bucks his hips up, the light gray patch from his pre cum on the front of his pants turning into a much bigger and darker one as he stains the inside of them with his cum. His cum drips over your hand as some leaks onto his lower abdomen.

"Ooh yeah Johnny just like that. Look at you cummin' all nice and pretty for me."

You keep your hand inside his pants as you turn to kiss his cheek, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

You giggle at his breathlessness, pride swelling your chest knowing only you can make your big bad soldier melt this way.

"Come here." He growls, gripping your face to smash his lips against yours hungrily, tongue licking against yours.

"Better go clean up, best part of the movie is coming up." You say with a smile as you finally remove your hand from his ruined sweats to stand up.

Johnny catches you before you get away pulling you back down onto the couch by your hips, making you yelp.

"Oh no bonnie." Johnny says, gripping your jaw.

"I have a promise to fulfill." He smirks.

And this time, your clueless doe eyes were genuine for the first time tonight and your shocked expression turned into a matching smile.

The rest of the movie was forgotten as you spend the rest of the night with Johnny fucking up into you in a full Nelson on the couch giving you more orgasms you thought were possible, and he was right: by the end of the movie you didn't have a single thought in your brain other than Johnny.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. VI

tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @hueanhdang @delaynew @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997

With the fourth day come and gone with no ground behind them, the little party wasted no time in packing up their belongings and trudging on once again.

Daenys was awoken from a dreamless sleep by a suffocating feeling. She was jerked awake by her own breathlessness, opening her eyes to be met with the brown fur of Dusk, who had grown impaitient with her sleeping in and made her chest his one personal bed. "Off, boy." She grunted, wheezing at the weight. She swore he could rival Morningstar in weight alone.

Cregan, at the opening of the tent and pack over his shoulder, snickered at the sight. He clicked his tongue twice, shooing the direwolf away. He leaned over Daenys, who was rubbing her eyes. Her hair lay around her in long, unruly waves, surely something that her handmaiden back in Dragonstone would have scolded her for. She usually slept in a loose braid but had forgotten her nightly routine in favor of passing out cold.

"Morning, Princess." Cregan greeted softly, watching her groggily wake herself up. He had been ready and packed long-ago, wanting to let Daenys sleep in and not worry about packing her belongings, most of which were tied to Mylo's saddle.

"Good morning," she mumbled back, stretching out under the furs. The scent of him lingered pleasently. She sat up slowly, the cold of the North making her body ache in the mornings more than it ever did in the South.

Daenys' hair fell around her shoulders and back, nearly to her waist. She cursed the fact that she'd have to spend another morning doing the entire thing all by herself, knowing her arms would be aching before she could even mount her horse. Just when she was contemplating chopping it all off, Cregan offered–"Would you like my help with...all that?" The offer was polite, not wanting to push any boundaries that might make the Princess shy away.

A man doing hair? That was almost laughable. If Daemon made the same offer to Rhaenyra, the whole family would be squaking with amused chuckles, knowing he had no clue how to do something as gentle as that. Perhaps that was why he chopped off his own long locks—or so Daenys heard.

"My hair?" Daenys questioned, looking up to him. He nodded, and she took a moment to think. How did he know how to braid? Briefly, she wondered if he had ever courted someone, perhaps in his youth before he was busy in his lordship.

"My sister, she insisted that I learn by practicing on her. Said it would help with my 'husbandly' responsibilities, whatever that means." They both laughed, while she guiltily felt a sense of relief. She rummaged through her bag briefly, searching for her wooden brush.

"Hm, I would have thought you might have a secret Lady Wife hidden away in Winterfell." Daenys mused, turning her back to him and sitting up straight. He sat behind her, taking the brush she had handed him in a big hand. Their hands touched for a moment, his bare hand making contact with hers for her first time. It was warm, though calloused from years of swordtraining, opposite of her own perfectly manicured ones. Had he taken off his gloves for this? It would be easier, she thought.

"Who's to say I don't? And perhaps a few heirs are already running about, playing as squires." When she glanced behind her, brow raised, he only chuckled and guided her head to turn back.

"I jest, of course. If I had a wife, she would be no secret." He said, grabbing small portions of her hair at a time, brushing from ends to scalp. The white mess quickly became calm waves once more with his handywork. Cregan paused a moment, "what braids would you like?"

Giggling, "how many can you do, Lord Stark?"

"You underestimate me. I have had all sorts of requests from Sara. The least I can do is try."

Daenys pondered what might be a quick one for him to do, deciding on her front pieces being pulled back into a crown, braided in a curving line together across the back of her skull. The rest hung down, providing a small shield against the wind on her neck. Cregan's hands worked smoothly, dexterous, and surprisingly gentle. He apologized for every tug, and was done quickly.

🗡

A young Daenys sat in front of Laenor Velayron, both of them on the floor in front of the lit hearth in Rhaenyra's chambers. Rhaenyra had left a few hours ago, leading young Jacaerys to go play with Aegon while she went to spend time with baby Luke in the nursery.

Laenor had some downtime, recently returning from a voyage to Dorne. Even though he rode the loyal Seasmoke, Laenor was a seaman at heart. He never went too long between being on his ship, which was gifted to him by Lord Corlys of Driftmark. After Daenys' fifth nameday, he lovingly allowed her to name the ship Eveningstar to match her dragon's name.

"How does the mighty Princess wish to wear her warrior's braids this morning?" He asked her in a dramatically knightly voice. "I can do anything you command."

"Dragon!" Daenys exclaimed excitedly, wishing for her hair to be done in the shape of her dragon, who was growing like a weed and already not allowed to be in the Red Keep due to terrorizing Alicent Hightower's children.

Laenor paused, brows high on his forehead. "Perhaps...the Princess overestimates this lowly knight's skill. Maybe a simpler design would appease her?"

Straightening up, Daenys glanced back up at him and scrunched her nose playfully. "I thought you said you could do anything."

Her father chuckled nervously, the scrutiny of the young girl reminding him much of Rhaenyra's sharp gaze. Luckily, Daenys' wrath was much more forgiving than her mother's. "I can do anything, within human limits." He mimicked her whining tone.

Daenys sighed loudly, thinking about what she wanted again. "What about the gems? Can you put them into the braid, at least?"

Laenor grunted as he stood up, joints in one place for too long. He rummaged through Rhaenyra's vanity, knowing she wouldn't mind if it was for Daenys. He plucked out some bright blue ones, with small holes carved in the middle for hair to poke through. "Blue?"

Daenys nodded, hair ruffling out of place from the jerking movements. Blue reminded her of the skies, the view she was gifted when she rode through the clouds on Syrax or Seasmoke with her parents. It was also quite like the sea, which she saw often at the docks with Laenor. It was perfect for today.

As Laenor returned to his position, he started his work. Different sized braids adorned the back of her hair, with the front pieces in bubbled loose strands separated in inches by the stones. The rest hung down in its usual waves, more stones hanging down from them. They twinkled when Daenys moved her head side to side.

"All done, my girl." Laenor told her, patting her shoulders.

"Can we go on a boat ride?" She pleaded with her father. She had been wanting to be out on the sea all morning, wishing to spend time with her father in one of their favorite places. Even if it meant dealing with the fishy scent of their catches, she loved the sailor's life and the boisterous people who lived it daily.

"I don't think so, Daenys. Your mother gave me an earful about letting you near the crew, last time." He told her, petting her hair back comfortingly when she frowned.

"Can we swim, then? At the beach?" She changed the question, knowing her mother's word was absolute. 'The Beach' was a little island between Dragonstone and King's Landing, which the dragonriders oft visited because of its seclusion from court and fisherman.

Laenor thought for a moment. Rhaenyra wouldn't be upset about it, surely. "What about your hair? We spent so much time on it."

She shook her head, the stones sparking together in turn. "It will be fine, I won't dive today."

Likely story, Laenor thought, but bit his tongue. "Very well, we'll take Seasmoke to the beach." He gave in, as always. No one could resist the little girl's charms, especially her father.

Daenys thought for a moment to bring along Jace but decided against it. He couldn't yet swim, and would only feel left out on the shore. Ever the jealous boy, Aegon would have to be his company for today.

Laenor took Daenys to the dragonpit, packing a small picnic for two and their swimclothes. The two spent the majority of the sunlight frolicking in the sand and salty water, enjoying small sandwhiches that the maids prepared beforehand.

Upon the Princess and Ser's return, Rhaenyra was gifted with many pretty seashells in a sincere apology for Daenys losing many of the blue gems. A small white sand dollar was placed next to Luke's crib quietly, Daenys knowing better than to place objects on his soft bedding. Jacaerys was given a sturdy red shell, but all-too-quickly returned it to Daenys' sandy hands as a crab popped its little black eyes out of it.

"Father!" Daenys called after Laenor, who was on his way out of the keep and to the docks. "There's a crab in this one. Can we return it to the beach?" She begged, jumping up and down and tugged at his sleeve.

Sighing, Laenor knew it would be a while til he made it to the docks. He couldn't resist that face, after all

🗡

Daenys felt the soft braid with her fingertips, satisfied at the evenness. She looked behind her, a grateful smile meeting his eyes. "Thank you, Cregan. I appreciate it."

He hummed, gathering her bag for her after putting her brush back into it. Cregan parted the tent flaps again, allowing the sunlight to peak through once again. Dusk was sitting outside of the tent, lying on her discarded dress. Whether he or Cregan moved it there was a mystery. They left the tent, Cregan folding it up while Daenys went to Morningstar.

The beast greeted her with a small chuff, though she did not lift her head. "What's the matter, pretty girl?" Daenys asked her lifted a hand to pet her cheek. The dragoness turned her head away, setting it on the clear ground below it. All the snow had long melted away around her in a ring, the dragon's body heat not giving it a chance to return. "Morningstar?"

A huff.

Daenys rolled her eyes at the dragon's brattiness. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. I promise It won't happen again, Cregan has looked after me." She spoke the apology in her mother tongue, sincerely. She never got a chance to last night, falling asleep right after the hunt.

The she-dragon lifted her head, eyeing Cregan as he walked up to them. "I heard my name?" He asked, an amused smirk on his lips.

Morningstar and Daenys turned to him together, four violet eyes squinted at him as if to say, 'stay out of it.' The dragon grumbled, shifting the stand on her wings. Cregan looked to Daenys, wondering why she wasn't happy to see her rider, as she usually was. Daenys opened her mouth to answer, only to be knocked down into the snow by a shove of Morningstar's snout. Confused, Daenys looked up to her, mouth agape. The dragon playfully nudged Cregan, asking for his attention.

Traitors.

Cregan laughed loudly at the display, giving in to the dragon's whims. Not like he had any choice, he feared what an angry dragoness might do to him if he rejected her so rudely.

Dusk sat himself next to Daenys, who had since sat up. The direwolf growled at the affection display, jealous of Cregan giving his attention to another creature, more specifically the dragon who had been hovering their whole trip. She ruffled his thick fur, enjoying the softness compared to Morningstar's smooth scales. Morningstar seemed to eye the two on the floor, grumbling again into Cregan's fur-coated chest.

Cregan helped Daenys up from the snow, letting her brush herself off before they untied the horses. Mylo greeted her with a lick to her palm, happy to see her again. They both sat upon their horses, eyeing the spot where Seamus' tent had been.

"Where's Seamus?" Daenys asked him, in a hushed tone as she leaned toward the man.

He sat up straight, not caring if Seamus overheard his words. "He went ahead when I was waking you. Claimed that he wanted to 'scout' ahead. As if Dusk can not do that." Cregan seemed irritated at the mere mention of the elder, so Daenys chose to nod and drop the topic.

The two horses walked side by side, while Daenys and Cregan idly chattered. "Your sister, Sara, where is she now? I never got to see her at Winterfell."

"She is residing at Mormont Keep now. A good friend of mine, the third son of Lord Grendys Mormont, proposed marriage a year ago. I'm expecting good news from Sara soon." Cregan smiled at the mention of his only living sibling. It had been nearly a year since she'd found her love match and left Winterfell for good.

"Eager for a niece or nephew already?" Daenys asked, corners of her mouth lifting. One day, she hoped for many nieces and nephews to surround herself with if she truly did end up a spinster. If so, she was comforted with the fact that she had only brothers, thus would have all their wives be moved to Dragonstone or the Red Keep to allow everyone to be close together.

"Indeed. It's been a while since Winterfell's keep has been graced with younglings."

Daenys almost snorted at the strange name for children but kept it to herself in hopes of not offending him. Northerners and their strange vocabulary. "I quite agree, it is rather quiet in the Great Keep."

"That is partially my fault, I must admit. My council and bannermen have been urging me to take a wife since I was but three and ten. For heirs, they say. I see it as them anxiously anticipating my early demise." He snorted.

"Perhaps a noble's real duty is to tolerate their council's nagging. I envy your patience, Lord Stark."

He turned his head toward her, a questioning look in his eye. "My patience? I have not seen you pushed to anger once in our time together, Princess."

"Whatever is there to be angry for?" She fired back. She'd never been a snappy person, except perhaps when her brothers stole her desert one too many times, but never was she considered an impaitient person.

Cregan stumbled slightly, trying to find the right words, "nevermind." he mumbled, cheeks pink.

Daenys bit her cheek, holding another laugh. Seeing the young Lord flustered amused her greatly. "Cregan," she began.

Perking up, he tilted his head towards her, "yes, Princess?"

"Do you think we ought to have spotted Seamus by now?"

He hummed, looking forward with careful eyes. "Mayhaps, but I think he is avoiding us purposefully to calm himself. He was quite humiliated last night."

Daenys snickered, remembering the taught look on the older man's face, red all the way to his neck. "Serves him right. Slaughtering an animal is one thing, but dishonoring it entirely is another. It is not right. Any respectable man would have left its head with its body so its soul could rest easy."

Cregan was silent for a few beats after her words. "I agree, the animals killed in defense have as much right to respect as the ones we hunt for food. Is that a Targaryen or a Velayron belief?"

Daenys shifted in the saddle, twitching at the mention of her blood. "Velayrons believe that we shall return to the sea, where we come from. Targaryens burn their dead, in the way of our ancestors."

"Which would you have to honor you after your death?" The question surprised her, seeing Cregan's sincere gaze upon her like a calmness in a storm.

"It's hard to say. My father burned when he died, and we could only lay his ashen bones in the casket that we sent into the sea. He never got a proper Velayron death as he would've wanted." She told him. "Perhaps it would be my fate to die like a Targaryen, on my dragon and being burned by my opponent. I must admit I have always been partial to the sea, though. Or, if the Gods will it, Morningstar and I would fall together. If such a thing does happen, perhaps buried in the crypts alongside her." She rambled on. Faces flashed in her mind. Drunken Aegon, spiteful Aemond, sweet Helena, even young Daeron. All dragonriders on the opposing ride, all her potential killers.

"Do not say such things, Princess. You will live to be an old dame, I am sure." The Northerner said, tapping his foot out of his stirrups to her own booted one.

"Apologies, my Lord. It is an awfully morbid topic for a Lady." She rescinded.

An awkward silence washed over the two, neither knowing if they offended the other nor what to say next. Curse her stupid big mouth. What kind of Princess talks to a man about her own death? Not one that will gain any prospects, surely. Daenys kissed her teeth, biting back a sigh. She wished to withdraw into a tent, or better yet, the skies atop of Morningstar.

It was hours before the two stopped for a break, watering and feeding the horses. Dusk rounded back to them, content with taking a break after his watch. He laid his large head on Daenys' lap, and she struggled not to tense at the reminder.

Cregan stole many discreet glances at her as she stretched out under a large tree. Her silence had worried him greatly, and the Lord feared that she would tuck herself back into her deep shell. Maybe literally, with all those coats over her shoulders. The roots were robust, sticking out of the ground and study enough to sit herself on.

He approached her after allowing her some minutes of respite. Offering his hand, Cregan lifted her to her feet, though he did not let go of her hand. Daenys stilled, wondering what he wanted.

"Do you have the dagger on you?" He asked.

Daenys nodded, "are we going hunting?"

He shook his head, backing away a step from her. "We have the spare rabbits still. Grab it." Suddenly, his voice seemed to change from his gentle one to a more firm one. Like the one he used for his men rather than for Daenys.

Bemused, she grabbed the dagger from under her skirts—she had decided that the belt of her garters would make a fine shealth. Cregan's gaze flittered to her exposed legs for only a moment before he forced it back to her face. Holding it out for him to take, she was surprised when he closed it back around her fist.

"It is still yours. I want you to attack me."

"Attack you?!" Daenys exclaimed, clutching the dagger toward her chest. "I will not do such a thing."

Cregan chuckled shortly, shifting on his feet. "I am asking you to, Princess. You will not hurt me, I assure you."

"I am well confident in your skills, my Lord. But, anything could happen, even accidentally. A Lady does not wield weapons against her own bannermen–or at all." Daenys stammered out.

Even Rhaenyra, who was made heir for the throne at seven and ten, was not made to learn the ways of weaponry. She had her loyal guards to protect her at all times, and that's not to mention Daemon, who is one of the best swordsmen Westeros had to offer.

He sighed at her stubbornness. "Humor me, just this once. I want to show you how to wield it without losing your grip, at least. As long as your weapon stays in your hand, you are still in the fight."

"I have my dragon." She insisted, sniffing.

"And where was she when you were wandering the woods, Princess?"

Daenys clenched her teeth, knowing she couldn't argue with his bite. Morningstar couldn't always be there to help her, something that she learned the hard way. In the woods, indoors, underground: all places that her dragon could not defend her in unless she wished to burn with the enemy.

"Come on, my Lady. This is what is best for you. I wager you will need to use such skills against an opponent some day soon, without the shield of Morningstar." He seemed tense, similar to his state when first coming across Seamus Knott.

"Cregan..." She pleaded, looking up at him with her dagger limply hung at her hip.

"Daenys." He was unmoved, though his eyes flashed with a unique softness briefly. Daenys' name coming from his lips made her belly fill with butterflies, a warmth spreading throughout her at his low tone.

She sighed, giving in to him. How could she not, when he looked at her like that? Every bit the ruggedly gentle Northern man she had grown to know well.

She shifted her stance, pulling the hand holding the dagger in front of her face, eyeing him over it. He had not moved, only observing her carefully, noting every breath she took.

Daenys stepped forward, swiping the knife towards his chestpiece, the safest option, only to stumble on her feet when Cregan grabbed her wrist and tugged her into his chest. "You were staring at my chest the whole time. Don't make it so obvious where you want to strike."

He kept her tight in his grip, the other hand on her back firmly. "I shouldn't be able to pull you off your feet so easily. If I can simply hold you like this so easily, imagine what a lesser man could do without breaking a sweat."

Daenys flushed at the implication, face warm with embarrassment. He paid no mind to it, releasing his grip and allowing her to stand straight again. Cregan shifted behind her, breath hot against her ear. "Stand lower, center yourself so you can not be felled so easily." He placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing down gently until her knees bent slightly. He pushed her with one hand, appeased when she only bent instead of falling into the snow. Cregan traced a hand down the expanse of her arm, reaching her hand and taking it in his own. He adjusted her grip on it, folding his larger hand around hers, "hold it like this if you wish to swipe instead of stab, like you intended."

When she obeyed, he nodded satisfactorily. He backed away again, standing in front of her. "Again." His voice was hard, rougher than he perhaps knew.

Daenys gritted her teeth, frustrated at his attitude. Was he angry with her for being so green with a weapon? Did most Northern ladies know all this stuff by the time they could walk? She hated the way he looked down at her, as if she was one of his soldiers instead of just Daenys.

Hours passed, with Daenys panting and exhausted from her exertions and Cregan perfectly unharmed in front of her. Daenys improved slightly after every attempt, much to Cregan's approval. They had lost track of time, well into the afternoon before they had eaten and set off riding again. They rode in a deafening silence, the only sounds being the horses' clompering steps. She wished to speak with him to understand why he suddenly was so stressed for her safety. He had promised to stay by her side. Why would she need to protect herself unless he was planning on leaving her?

He hadn't humored any of her longing glances, gaze as straight as his regal posture. In the sunset's glowing light, he looked quite like a Northern Prince sat upon his steed. She wondered if she looked the part of a Princess on her own, or ever. If she didn't have the signature Targaryen white hair or purple eyes, would anyone guess what she was? Jacaerys was always recognized, even without the sigil on his tunics. He always fit his role as heir perfectly. If she had shared his plain features, Daenys guessed that she would be mistaken for a random noblelady of a forgotten house. Her face familiar but none quite able to recall her name.

The two settled in a small clearing, the biggest they had been able to find for hours. Morningstar hovered for a bit before settled down in their find. She had been gone for the entirety of their little training session, most likely to hunt her own meal in the pause. The dragon curled up near the tent, already melting the surrounded area. Maybe the tent would be warmer tonight thanks to her.

Cregan and Daenys sat in front of the fire, roasting the skinned rabbit. Daenys glanced at him several times over the flames, only to be pointedly ignored. She sighed, standing to her feet. "I'll be back." She told him, getting a small hum in return. He assumed she was using the bathroom, so he made no move to stop her. Daenys wandered slightly in the wood, stretching her legs and enjoying her moment of peace. Whilst she was plotting her next words to Cregan concerning his silent attitude, she was stopped by Seamus, standing imposingly in her path.

"You've been gone quite a while." Daenys greeted with a short nod, shifting uncomfortably. He only stared back. "Are you going to set your tent up with ours?"

More silence. He didn't seem to have his pack on his back anymore, only his sword on his belt and a dagger's shealth on the other side to mirror it. She tensed, mouth drying up. Whatever his intentions might have been, none were good.

"Princess Daenys." He started, voice dark with spite. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for an opportunity like this. For twenty long and painful years, I served the Watch. Patient, biding my time until I can be restored to my rightful place as Lord Knott."

Daenys stepped back, reaching slowly to bunch up her skirt, trying to reach her knife without drawing much attention to it.

He mirrored her step. "I won't let that little brat take his place as pretender any longer. Because I have you, now." He grinned, baring his teeth down at her. His black beard was a stark contrast to his shining teeth, saliva parting at his lips. He reminded her of a rabid dog, slobbering and desperate to bite down on anything to relieve its own pain. He slowly unsheathed his dagger, pointing it at her from his spot yards away. "If I take you to the King, I will be bestowed with riches and titles above anyone. He will have to make me Hand in exchange for giving up the usurper's daughter!"

Seamus laughed at his own proclamation. It was a good plan, she admitted. Aegon would be generous enough to give him back his seat at House Knott. Daenys shook her head, taking more slow steps back. When she was about to attempt to reason with him, he lunged. Seamus wasted no time pinning her to the floor, covering her mouth with a dirty hand. "Oh no, Princess. Can't have that little brat ruining this for me. Just like his damned father."

She thrashed, kicking and clawing at his face. Even with the small lines of blood dripping from his face, he never faultered. He placed the dagger at her throat, pulling her roughly to her feet.

He pushed her in front of him all the way to the campsite, where Cregan was already looking to the treeline to spot her return. He stood immediately when Daenys came back, steel placed deadly close to her neck. He drew Ice to his hand, pointing it at the older man.

"Release the Princess, Knott." He growled.

The man chortled behind Daenys, hot breath on her neck, making gooseflesh rise to her arms uncomfortably. "Put that down, boy. You know you cannot harm me without hurting the little lass."

Cregan grit his teeth harshly, jaw ticking. He glanced to Daenys, who guiltily blinked up at him. Sorry, she seemed to say. For wandering off stupidly once again.

Dusk was gone, hunting his own dinner for the night. How convenient for the kinslayer.

Seamus slowly walked to the dragon, who had long since awoken when she spotted Daenys at the mercy of her aggressor. The dragon roared when he approached, hot breath washing over them both and the wind strong enough to make him stumble back slightly. "Command your beast to obey, or she will not have a rider to listen to anymore. Remember, Princess, I need you alive, not unharmed." He sneered.

"I will find you, Daenys." Cregan spoke firmly, standing at the base of Morningstar's wing.

Daenys, with the steel still cold at her neck, commanded Morningstar shakily. "Lykiri, Morningstar. Rual īlva naejot kipagon." She nodded stiffly when the white dragon whined, distressed at what she was being forced to do.

Reluctantly, the dragon lowered its wing to allow both onto her saddle, Daenys still sitting in front of him. He pressed himself tight against her back, one hand squeezing her waist in an almost choking manner. She felt nauseous, glancing to Cregan for reassurance. For the first time, the man looked helpless. Ice was discarded onto the snow, and his throat bobbed with tension.

"Fly, girl!" The man snarled, making Daenys flinch at the loudness. Cursing, she commanded Morningstar to lift off. "You will take us to King's Landing. Anywhere off course, and you will lose your little fingers one by one."

Daenys nodded, gaze straight at the dark sky, the blackness of the night providing her a lonely comfort. She knew Cregan was watching her disappear into the cloud's cover, not being able to do a thing.

Morningstar furiously roared and growled and cried out into the skies, helpless once again to help her rider.

Daenys patted her scales softly in a comforting motion, whispering to the dragon, "īlon jāhor ērinagon."

🗡

Rual īlva naejot kipagon - allow us to ride

Lykiri- Calm

īlon jāhor ērinagon - we will/shall win

Cregan's guilt for not being there for Daenys is eating at him 🙂‍↔️ and coming off all wrong. Whatever shall the young lovebirds do?

what is it that one post said a few weeks back, "paws that he calls hands"? I always think of that when writing about his hands its suck in my head

I should probably establish ages. With Laenor's flashback, its kinda wonky. Joff and Rhae + Daemon's youngest kids' age don't matter because they will have no importance to the story sorry not sorry

Cregan - 21

Daenys- 20

Jace - 18

Luke - 14

Joffrey - 5-7

Aegon and Viserys - Under 5

[blueicequeen19]

Party Foul

Warnings: fingering at a party 🎉

JJ looked up from his beer just as a gorgeous Kook girl appeared feet from him, clearly breathless and disheveled. Her hair was up in a bun and her clothes were askew like she’d taken them off and hurriedly shoved them back on. She was hot, even in her fearful state.

She was running from someone.

JJ knew that look too well. When her eyes suddenly land on JJ and she makes her way forward, his breathing seems to stop.

“Just go with it.” You insist just as you drop down on JJ Maybank’s lap and burying your face in his warm neck.

“What the—.” JJ’s entire body tenses beneath you but when he feels you shaking, his arms immediately wrap around you as his eyes try to track the source of your discomfort. The raw urge to protect immediately took hold.

“I’m gonna take your hair down.” JJ says softly after a few moments while the party continues around you. You nod, your lips finding his neck and sending a zap of pleasure through his body. JJ fights back a moan as he tugs your hair loose from its tie but he can’t stop his cock from starting to swell.

You whimper, shifting on his lap and against his cock as your intoxicating scent washes over him. You smelled incredible. You felt even better. JJ grits his teeth as his hands tighten their hold on your waist just as Rafe Cameron comes into view, clearly looking for someone. Now JJ felt even better about what he was about to do. His hands slid lower to find the swells of your plump ass and gave a squeeze. Rafe’s eyes scanned the party, not even settling on where JJ was seated before walking off in another direction.

JJ was just about to tell you that Rafe was gone when your fingers tightened in his shirt and your hips rolled just a little. He was fully hard now and there was no hiding it. Your gasp rang in his ear as you did it again. And again.

“Stop.” JJ rasped, his hands squeezing your ass harder in an attempt to halt your movements but you only moved harder. He could feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of his swim trunks, making his head spin.

“Stop.” JJ bit out again, his hand sliding down the crack of your ass to cup your pussy from behind. You jerked, your tongue coming out to taste the skin on his neck and JJ nearly blew his load right then and there.

“If you don’t stop..” JJ’s words trailed off as you took a chunk of his flesh between your teeth.. and sucked. You marked him. He knew it. He could feel the heat behind your bite and the way your tongue thrashed at the skin.

JJ sucked in a breath as he cupped your pussy harder, dipping his hand low enough to find your slit while his other hand pushed you down harder on his cock. You were trembling again but it wasn’t from fear.

“Is this what you wanted? Use me to get off? Your boyfriend not doing it for you?” Jealousy washed over him at the thought of Rafe touching you and you weren’t even his.

“I’m not close to getting off.” You finally spoke, an edge to your voice that made him smirk. If you weren’t in the middle of a house party, JJ would impale you on his cock and hold you there, not letting you move until you were left a whimpering, begging mess.

“I can feel how wet you are through your fucking shorts.”

“That’s normal when you’re sitting in someone’s lap.” Her smart mouth surprises him and he doesn’t think as he moves his hand between the two of your bodies and dives his fingers under the cuff of your shorts. JJ’s rings dig into your skin as his fingers stroke your slit, the evidence of your arousal no longer a lie.

“So this is normal? It would take nothing for me to slip inside you with all this.” JJ growled, pressing firmly against your clit. You jerked, biting him again in anger. JJ chuckled, circling your clit over and over again until your body shook and your nails pierced his chest through his shirt. You whimper against his neck, fighting the urge to roll your body against his hand.

“Okay.. okay.. stop.. please..” You practically beg, burying your face against his shoulder.

“Not till you cum. Show me how not wet you are or how close you are. Lie to me again.” JJ’s teeth sink into your shoulder and you shatter.

“Oh god..” Your body tightens just as his fingers dip inside your aching pussy and his free hand finds your hair, pulling hard. Your orgasm gushes from you and the only thing muffling your sounds is the music and his shirt between your teeth as you rode out your high.

“Yep. Feels pretty dry to me.” JJ’s sarcasm was evident as his hand slid out of your shorts and you sat up in his lap with a glare. His intense blue gaze didn’t leave yours as he popped two of his fingers into his mouth, tasting you and humming in delight. You licked your suddenly dry lips as he lowered his hand to smirk at you.

“Not bad for a Kook.”

[kianely]

OFF THE DASHBOARD

i. FEATURING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Relentless stacks of paperwork and arrests during patrols have Leon busy all the time. It doesn’t help that you’re out of town for some work business. Feeling deprived of your touch, he hastily calls you while in his car, needing to hear your voice.

iii. CONTENT WARNINGS — 18+ content (MDNI) Sub!Leon, masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, spit for lubrication, praise with tiny hints of condescending degradation (leon receiving) Focused mostly on Leon overall. Please check my DNI before interacting. Lowkey rushed, my bad LMAOO

Your boyfriend was a needy and pitiful mess. He stationed his car in an empty parking lot as soon as he got off his shift at the department. He had his lights turned off. He was ringing your phone, already having you on speaker in case you picked up. A bold move, but he never invested in a pair of earphones so it would have to do.

The slacks of his uniform were painfully tight, he needed you. Couldn’t get off on his own, he was fucking addicted to you. He used to be able to get off in just minutes by the simple thought of you. But he was getting greedy, you spoiled him rotten. He needed to feel you, or at least hear your voice coax him into an orgasm.

“C’mon,” he muttered out, running a hand through his messy hair out of desperation. His phone was beeping, the picture he had for your saved contact showing on his phone and illuminating his car a bit.

It was wishful thinking. It was midnight already, there’s no way you would–

“Hello?”

The greeting alone sent blood rushing to his cock, his mind was spinning at the sound of the voice he had been craving to hear the entire long and exhausting work day. His tongue ran across his lips, trying to make up for how dry his throat felt.

“Oh, thank god.” He let out an audible sigh of relief, one you could clearly hear over the phone. “I’m so sorry for calling so late and without any notice, it’s just…”

He chewed on his bottom lip nervously, not knowing how to continue his sentence. He couldn’t just straight up tell you that he had been fantasizing about you jerking him off for hours on end, right? The thought of your hands taking his uniform off at a tantalizing pace before finally wrapping your hand around his cock—it sounded so good. Or even the manner in which you’d teasingly run your fingers across his abdomen before tracing over the lines of his v-line, he was always so weak under your touch.

“It’s okay, I was awake catching up on a show anyway. You’ve been so busy lately and I miss you like crazy, I’m glad you called.” Your voice came through and he wanted to melt into a puddle in his car seat.

“I miss you too, so much. Listen—I’m kind of in a predicament right now,” he eventually managed to say with a breathless tone of voice, placing his hand on the bulge straining against his slacks, rubbing the area lightly and letting out a soft whimper. He hoped you’d get the picture, without having to vulgarly explain himself.

A beat, you registered the sound of Leon’s voice. He was horny, you could tell just by the undertone of need that seeped from his words. Usually he was more subtle, not so blatantly whimpering during a call. That was kinda hot though, your usually composed boyfriend was in need of release.

“Baby. Are you hard right now?”

The term of endearment made Leon’s heart quicken, there was something about the way you said it that made heat blossom across his cheeks. “Guilty.”

You could be cruel sometimes, but not today. Not when you hadn’t touched Leon in nearly three weeks because of conflicting schedules.

“Take your belt off,” your voice was gentle but Leon knew you were instructing him. “And let me hear it, too. Wanna know you’re listening to me.”

There was something about you bossing him around that was so incredibly sexy, he momentarily set his phone down on one of his thighs so you could hear the clanking of metal as he fumbled to take off his belt and gear. It took him longer than usual, and the adrenaline pumping through him made him hear his own pulse in his ears.

“Okay,” fuck, his voice was quivering and his belt was discarded off onto the passenger seat. “What now?”

“Mm,” you thought about it for a moment, just to tease him. Eventually, you settled on a response. “Stroke yourself over your boxers, and tell me what that pretty mind of yours was thinking about all day.”

He was a good boy, unzipping his pants and slipping his right hand underneath—finding the shape of his cock and gliding his hand up and down. The fabric of his boxers was already wet with his precum, it was sticking almost uncomfortably to him. His free hand found purchase on the edge of his car seat, short nails digging into the leather of it.

“I, uh.” He was stammering, mind struggling to formulate a coherent thought. You did this on purpose, making him talk even when he was struggling.

“C’mon sweetheart, you can do better than that. Don’t tell me you went all dumb just by touching yourself for a single second.”

Those taunts, fuck, that condescending tone you took. The windows of his car were undoubtedly going to fog up with all the ragged breaths he was taking. “Was thinking about your hand on my cock, and that thing you do with your thumb—like…oh fuck, when you rub the tip with it.”

A babbling mess, that’s what he was. “T–Thought about you spitting on my cock, and the way you look at me while you do. Want you. Need you.”

“Atta boy,” your praise made him gasp—the words shooting straight down the gutter. “Keep going, you sound so fucking pretty.”

He was almost drooling with the way his jaw was slackened, his lips feeling dry with each intake of breath through his mouth. Only you were given the heavenly experience of hearing all his little sounds, the hiccup of his breath and broken sobs.

“Can I touch myself now, please?” His request was quiet, spoken in a bashful manner.

You laughed at his question, wanting to play with him a little. “What do you mean? You are touching yourself.”

“Yeah but…” he let out a whine, beginning to feel frustrated. So damn impatient, the call had only been running for a few minutes and he was already being pouty. “Like, without my boxers. That’s what I meant. Please? I don’t know how much longer I can go.”

“So dirty. Where are you right now, Leon?”

He wanted to growl at you, how could you be asking such an unnecessary question in the middle of this? Were you trying to torture him? You didn’t even answer his oh so nicely worded request.

“Does it matter?” There was a little bit of frustration in his voice. Could he take his boxers off or not? “Parking lot.”

“Ah, right. So you’re asking me if you can take your boxers off in a public parking lot and touch yourself, then? You’re a cop, aren’t you? Isn’t that public indecency?”

“Babe.” His voice was so whiny, fingers getting ready to reach under his boxers. “Please. Just let me, there’s no one around, promise.” He craved your permission, even if he didn’t necessarily need it to touch himself.

You were so going to give him shit over this the next time the two of you hung out in person. “So impatient, fine, go ahead.”

His boxers were hastily shoved further down as soon as he got the green light, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock. Tears brimmed at his eyes at the relief that flooded his senses, letting out a hiss as he stroked himself.

He imagined his hand was yours, mimicking the way you would touch him because he had it all memorized. “Oh god,” his eyes fluttered shut as his head tilted back towards the headrest—hips bucking up into his own hand. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“That’s it, keep going.” Hearing your boyfriend in such a messy state was getting to you too, your own hand snaking down your figure to the place that ached. “Spit on it.”

“What?” The command made him lose focus, his mind spinning with each passing second, “oh, wait, okay. Fuck, that’s hot.”

It was an easy task for him, saliva having already gathered in his mouth from the way he had been too focused on all the pleasure to even swallow. He let his spit land on the tip, watching as it ran it’s way down to the base.

With a high-pitched moan, he kept on going—a little faster than before. He was losing it, his rhythm progressively getting more sloppy as his stomach got tighter and tighter.

He really should’ve turned his ignition on so he could have some AC in his damn car, his uniform was going to be damp with sweat after this. Whatever, he owned a washing machine.

He could hear your encouragement and dirty talk, but he was too out of it to really pay attention. It didn’t matter, all he needed to know was that you were on the other line of the call, that’s the only way he could come in this situation.

“Not gonna last much longer,” he rasped out, giving the base of his cock some firm squeezes—the same motion you did to him whenever you gave him a handjob.

“I know,” you truly did, you could tell by the way he hadn’t responded to any of your praising comments, instead only receiving a mixture of heavy and uneven breathing as a response. “You can do it, sweetheart. Make a mess all over yourself.”

“Mm,” he heard that praise though, his knees felt like jelly. His hand was starting to cramp up but that was the last thing on his mind.

“Please,” he had no clue what he was begging for, the tears that glazed over his eyes started to spill. He hated that it wasn’t enough. Yeah, he was about to come, but his hand made only a decent substitute for yours.

“Gonna come, gonna come,” he repeated the phrase over and over again until his voice nearly gave out, “fuck, gonna—“

His eyebrows were knit together prettily, breathing momentarily paused as he gave some final tugs before his eyes rolled back, his hearing failing on him as all the noises turned to static.

He let out a silent moan, stripes of white landing onto the vest of his uniform. He inhaled and exhaled shuddering breaths as his body shook, slumping against his seat. His body felt limp and weak, hand cramping up from the way he had been going at it. “Oh my god…”

You gave him a couple moments to recuperate himself, “feeling good?”

“Better than good. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t picked up my call,” all the sexual tension of the day was finally exhausted from him, lazy smile forming on his face as he tried to catch his breath—he could hear you laughing over the phone.

“Gotten blue balls or something. Sooo, are you going to write yourself up now for public indecency?”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

[romanarose]

Take It All

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Miguel fucks your throat. That's it.

Warnings: Throat fucking, choking, BALLS, gagging choking on cock, a whole lot of talk of spit (I have OCD, do you see what I do you for you all?), a lil bit of spitting up/some stomach bile shit, some struggling to breath. Fluffy at the end.

Anyway, enjoy, whores.

***********

“Just like that, asi mami, take it further”

Miguel had you pinned against the wall, strong legs keeping your shoulders pressed into the plaster. He gave you orders on how to suck his dick despite being the one forcing it down your throat.

“Think you can take it all this time?”

You mumbled in affirmative, throat contracting around his cock as Miguel groaned. Pulling out just briefly, you take a deep breath and he quickly thrusts back inside you, your throat burning with the stretch of him as he slides down your wet, warm mouth. Fuck, he was so deep, you couldn’t help touch yourself.

“Needy little thing.” He teases you when he sees your touching. “Does it turn you on when I abuse your little throat?”

With a whine, you scramble to reach up and grab his hand. You want him to feel it, to feel himself in your throat. Miguel, however, pulled out, causing you to whine again.

“Babyyyyy I didn’t tap out! You promised!” Miquel loved how you sucked cock, but he got nervous when he was in control, not wanting to hurt you. You had made him promise to keep going until you tap out, or unless he really thinks you need him to pull out.

He looks guilty, but smiles softly as he wipes your face with his sleeve. “Thought you were trying to tell me to stop.”

Jacking him off still, you grin up at Miguel. “No, I finally took you all the way! I was trying to show you that you can feel your cock in my throat!” Excitement was clear as you explain. You never were able to get that far before, and despite the drool falling down your neck and onto your low cut tank top and the heavy dark mark up of your eyes beginning to run, he thought you looked absolutely adorable. 

Miguel had an idea; scooping you up, he sloppily kissed you, licking into your mouth as he carried you over to the couch. Before setting you down, he bit into your lip with his fangs, making just a little bit of bloog flow out. Laying you down, Miquel adjusted you, manhandled your body like a little malleable doll until you were in the perfect position; head hanging off the arm of the couch. Before continuing, he knelt beside you, massive hard carefully caressing your face. “I’m gonna fuck your throat like your pussy, sweet thing. That okay?”

You smile up at him fondly, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t long until he had lined himself back up at your mouth, confirming you rememed to tap his thigh twice if it was too much, and began pressing into you again. He was so damn thick it stretched your mouth wide open, and you concentrated on relaxing your throat. When he made it all the way in and he saw you could still breath through your nose, Miguel reached out to finger you, but got distracted when his eyesight caught a view… the tip of his cock poking a bulge in your throat. 

He went feral after that.

Pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, Miguel was obsessed with watching his cock protrude through you, so big he was filling you up. His eyesight only strayed to swatch your body writhe and jolt, he pulled down the tank top you were in to take out your tits, groping them painfully for his own pleasure, but it only turned you on me.

“Such a fucking whore, letting me use your mouth as my little fleshlight. You like that? You like when I don’t care about getting you off, just using you for my own pleasure?” He pulled out of you, glops of spit running down your face, messing up your make up as he jerked himself while dragging his balls to spread the make up and spit, blood and precum all over your skin. “SAY IT!”

“Yes! Yes sir I love when you- mmpphhh” Whatever you were about to say was muffled by his balls in your mouth, and you moan around them as you suck and listen to the aggressive ‘fap, fap, fap’ of his hand on his own cock.

“Touch yourself, bebita,” Miguel pants. “Cause I’m about to cum right into your stomach.”

You did as you were told, finger fucking yourself to the rhythem he set into your throat with one hand and clawing into his thighs with your nails.

“Just can’t get enough of you, baby, mmmm so fucking good for me, just laying there and taking it.”

A cough, a gag, a deep breath; you refused to tap out, not when he was so close, not when the balls that rested on your face were tightening and he spoke.

Miguel wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing as he violently trust into you, using your throat to jerk himself off with your throat. Nail cutting into his tree trunk thighs, you cum on your fingers, throat tightening and releasing with every contraction, every pulsing pleasure inside your body.

“FUCK! Feel so goddamn good, almost wanna snap to this precious little neck in my hands, fuck, fuck, FUUUUCK!!

Stilling in your throat, Miguel bypassed his mouth, shooting his cum straight into your esophagus. As soon as he was done and saw how much you were struggling to breathe, he pulled out of you. Immediately, you turn over and cough, hacking up a lung as spit and cum falls out of your mouth. You gasp for air, struggling to get enough in to satisfy your lungs. The salty mixture inside you spit up into the floor along with a little stomach bile, falling onto his carpet. “Sorry” You breath.

Miguel kneels beside you, gently patting your back. “It’s okay sweetheart, just get it out”

You slow down, your airway cleared out and able to breathe again, and you collapse onto the couch exhausted. Multiple orgasms, several positions, your body sore and relaxed and messy and pleasured…

“Hey, carino, you alright?” Miguel asks, picking chunks of spit soaked hair out of your face.

He worries he hurt you, worries he took it too far, but is surprised to see you giggling. 

“We have got to do that again.”

Miquel chuckles in return, kissing your disgusting forehead. 

“Let’s give your throat a break for a few days, mi sol. I'm gonna draw us a bath.”

As you watch his bubble butt walk into the bathroom, he turns around. “Hey honey?” He says, body twisting a bit to reveal a cheeky smile.

“Yes, Miggy?”

“I’m proud of you, for taking all of me. I know it’s a lot.” He emphasized with wiggling eyebrows, and then proceeded to dodge the pillow you tossed in his direction, yelling some joke about ‘that’s not why it’s called a throw pillow!’

***************

I hope y'all enjoyed. is this a little like the throat fucking in Take Your Time? Yes. What about it.

Also, I think it's time smut acknowledge BALLS, whose with me?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @eyelessfaces @littlenosoul @melodygatesauthor @ahookedheroespureheart @moonknightly

[xuhuihuis]

Unexpected Visit | Xu Minghao & Wen Junhui

╰┈➤warnings: sub!reader, dom!minghao, perv!jun, exhibitionism, spit, jerking off, pain kink, marking, possession kink, pussy eating, degradation, pet names

╰┈➤synopsis: your boyfriend gest jealous at a party and decides to show you who you belong to. But what happens when you get an unexpected visit from someone

“Meet me upstairs,” Minghao whispers into your ear before moving into the crowd of people. You were so confused as he left you, as you were in the middle of a conversation with Junhui. Jun was a very lovely guy who you could talk to for hours, and time would fly by. Minghao has been off all night, acting more possessive and jealous whenever you could talk to another guy. You could see the disgust in his eyes when you laughed with them when he was right there next to you.

Jun was very understanding when you had to say your goodbyes and find your way through the mass number of people. It was an agonising task to slip between everyone just to find your way to the stairs and slowly head up them to meet your boyfriend. While walking up the stairs, you very quickly fixed yourself up to look more presentable, even though it wouldn’t matter to him.

Very timidly, you pushed open the door to the master bedroom before Minghao pulled you into the bedroom and slammed the door closed behind you. His arms were soon wrapped around your waist, holding you so close to his body, not letting you run away. Minghao was so happy to finally have you all to himself and not have other guys trying to pounce on you. It pained him so much to see other guys talking to you when you were all his; you belonged to one another.

“Minghao, is everything okay?” Genuinely asking him a question, but he didn’t give an answer to you. Kissing down your neck so sweetly, letting his plump lips ghost the sensitive skin as you melt underneath him. It was so difficult to be mad at him when he was being like this, making you feel so good.

He knew what he was doing as one of his large hands slipped under your dress and started to caress the skin of your upper thigh. You gasped as his nails lightly grazed your upper thigh, moaning at the slight sting of his nails against your skin. Minghao held onto you tight as your whole body was leaning against him, not wanting for you to fall. You caught a glimpse of your neck in the mirror that rested on the dresser and audibly gasped.

Small red marks have started to appear on your neck after Minghao attacked your neck.This was a small way that he wanted to try and mark you up to let everyone else know who you belong to.

“My beautiful girl” You could hear the smirk in his voice when he said that, feeling so proud of himself. Minghao groaned as you pushed your hips back and started to grind against his clothed cock. He was so hard, it was painful, and it was getting more difficult to contain himself. It was dark in the room, which made it harder to guide your way around, but Minghao was there to help you.

It felt heavenly as every muscle in your body relaxed the moment it hit the bed, leaning back onto your elbows and watching Minghao closely as he unbuttons his shirt before joining you on the bed. He sat in the space that was left between your legs, fitting in nicely. He lay flat on his stomach, grunting as he got face-to-face with your needy cunt. Your dress was pushed up over your thighs, revealing your naked core. The sweet scent of your juices clouded his mind, making his mouth water at the thought of tasting you. Just the sight of your cunt alone made his cock twitch, needing to be inside of you right now. Your juices dripped onto the bed sheets below you, making such a mess, but he couldn’t care.

“The prettiest cunt.” His voice was so deep and laced with lust that you could hear how badly he needed you. Very gently, he spread apart your pussy lips before kitten licking your clit. Minghao couldn’t help but feel proud that he was the only man who got to do this, getting off to the taste of your nectar. You arch your back beautifully, trying to guide him, but he soon pinned your hips back down onto the bed. He wasn't exactly behaving himself, grinding down onto the mattress, but stopped as soon as you caught him.

“Fuck it.” He grunted before sitting up on the bed to take his pants off. The sound of his belt sent shivers down your spine, making your stomach drop. Your whole body weight leaned against the bedframe to watch the sight in front of you. It was something out of a porno movie, as he took his time just to tease you more.

He let out a sigh of relief as his cock no longer had to strain against the tight fabric of his pants. Minghao’s underwear got taken off with his pants, groaning as his cock hit his lower stomach. Very quickly, the pants were discarded onto the floor beside you, and he was towering over you once again. Pulling your legs apart, he let one of them rest on his shoulder as he tapped his leaking cock against your clit before burying himself inside of you.

You gripped onto the sheets next to you as you got used to the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, feeling him throb inside of you. Oh, how Minghao has missed the feeling of your walls clenching around him like this. It was one of his favourite feelings that he would never change for the world, something he needed so badly after the night he had.

“Taking me so well,” Minghao whispers against your neck as he gently rocks inside of you. All night he has been waiting for this, finally getting to be inside of you. The party down the stairs drowned out the noise of both of you in one of the bedrooms. You thought it would be fun to tease him, but no, here you are struggling to try and be quiet as he rams into your dripping cunt.

Minghao smirked as he heard you gasping for air with every thrust as he stretched you out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rocked inside of you slowly, just to drive you crazy. This let you feel every curve and vein in his cock as he dragged inside of your tight cunt. In the moment, you were so thankful for the loud music drowning out everything that was happening. The music was so loud that you could feel the walls vibrate, even from upstairs.

Minghao’s head was buried in your neck, letting you hear every small whimper and groan crystal clear. He knew it was a weakness for you and used it to his own advantage most of the time. The way your walls were clenching down on Minghao was driving him crazy. It was so hard to keep quiet when you were the one teasing him like this.

“Such a naughty girl, hmm?” You could hear the smirk in his voice before he lightly smacked your ass. The slight sting felt so good that you arched your back deeper, helping him find those spots inside of you. Gripping onto the sheets wasn’t going to help you at this point; you were finding it so hard to focus. One of Minghao’s arms was wrapped around your waist, helping you sink down on his cock and relax. The thumb of his other hand was ghosting over your lips, begging for your lips to be wrapped around it.

Minghao couldn’t help the groan that fell from his lips as you took the digit into your mouth. Very slowly, you started to swirl your tongue around it, just like you to the tip of his cock. It was very slow and teasing. You were doing your best to put on a show for him. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you no matter what, even though he was so close to his own orgasm. You were his muse, his goddess; no matter what, you would be his main priority.

“Minghao, please!” Pleading with Minghao, as you were so desperate to cum, but he wasn’t having any of it. You could cry there, and then when you feel him slip out of your cunt, you feel so empty. Lying there on the bed, shaking before Minghao grips onto your waist harshly and flips you over so you are on your stomach. This time you were facing the door, which made everything more risky, but the thrill turned you on.

Whimpering quietly as he pushes you down so that you are face down into the bed with your ass pressed against his hips. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the door as he lightly kissed from your shoulders down your back. Minghao was so drunk on your body that he got lost in your curves. There was just something about your body that was so addicting to him. But there was something deep down inside of you telling you that someone was watching.

Jun was walking to the bathroom and then heard the moans spilling through the door. Immediately, his ears perked up at the sound of your moans. They were so soft and delicate, immediately making him hard. As he didn’t know who the moans belonged to, it made him feel more dirty and perverted. Jun wanted to be the one fucking you in there right now and not have this door stuck between you both.

Before Jun did anything, he looked around to see if there was anyone there to catch him. But he was safe, free to do whatever he wanted as long as he was quiet. He palmed himself through his pants, teasing himself more before giving in. He bit down on his bottom lip to try and muffle his moans, but it only partially worked. Very carefully, Jun untied his belt and unzipped his pants, sliding them down his thighs until he could freely play with his cock. He was so fucking hard, and he didn’t know why. Was it the thrill of someone catching him? Or the fact that he didn’t know who was behind the door.

Jun messily spat into his palm to use it for lube, making it easier to fist his painfully hard cock. Thankfully, everyone else was too busy with the party downstairs to even care about what was going on otherwise. Jun couldn’t help but let his mind wander at the thought of you. In his mind, he could live out all of his fantasies of being with you without having to worry about Minghao watching over you like a hawk.

“Oh, Y/N…” Minghao grunted as you clenched around his cock harder, almost making it impossible to move for him. The mention of your name is what snapped Jun out of his lust-filled dream; he thought he was hearing things, but no. It was really you and Minghao inside the room in your own world, completely oblivious to him outside the door. Jun had to stop himself from coming at the sound of Minghao moaning for you. Oh, how he would kill to be Minghao right now.

The crack in the door gave Jun a front-row view of the pornographic sight of you laid out on the bed, clenching around Minghao. Jun has never felt this way about someone before; he thought you looked so beautiful fucked out like this. Only in his dreams could he be the one to make you feel the same way that Minghao is right now.

Jun was so desperate to cum but he was so nervous that he was going to be caught. The thrill of being caught added to the adrenaline running through his veins there and then. It was impossible for him to keep this quiet, as he was so close to his high. He used his other free hand to cover his mouth in a last attempt to try and muffle his own moans, but it was too late.

Thick ribbons of cum started to pool in his fist as he let out a groan that was stuck at the back of his throat. Jun was too far gone to notice how loud he was being. Minghao stopped moving inside of you to join you, looking confused at the door, wondering what was going on. He felt bad, but Minghao pulled out of you and made sure you were both covered before demanding the person come into the room.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you were waiting to see who it was. Very tightly, you gripped Minghao’s hand to try and calm down any worries you had. You were both in shock when you saw Jun standing there in the door frame, doing his hardest to avoid any eye contact with you. He felt so guilty about this, but he was smiling at the fact that he got caught. Could this mean that Minghao would finally let Jun into the relationship for a night?

“Jun, you really are disgusting; did you know that? Do you think you are good enough to fuck my girl?” Minghao spat at Jun, who was now standing at the end of the bed, looking down at his feet to avoid eye contact. The tension between both of the men in the room was high—so high that you could cut a knife through it. Jun was thinking of the right thing to say back to Minghao, and then his face lit up when he finally got it.

“I’ll prove to you how good I can make Y/N feel. Maybe even better than you can.” Jun smirked as he was so proud of what he just said. He loved getting underneath the skin on Minghao like this. It was so satisfying to see Minghao in this state, as he was so protective of you. Before you knew it, Jun was walking closer to the bed, leaving behind the rest of his clothes. It was going to be a long night.

taglist - @onedumbho3

please like and reblog if you enjoyed !!!!!

[sleepyhutcherson]

can you write a fic where mike is jerking off to a pic of reader because she’s on vacation or a family trip?

please.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

contains: nsfw, minors dni, m!masturbation, sub!mike. let me know if i forgot anything else!

a/n: eee thank you for your request (๑>◡<๑) hopefully this isn’t too boring lmao hope you enjoy <3 !!

mike becomes so desperate when you’re gone—you’ve only been gone for four days and you wouldn’t be returning from your holiday with your parents for another three days which wasn’t long…but it was too long for mike. he’s used to having you around all day but now the house is extra quiet without you and he hates it.

you call him everyday, you text him whenever you can and mike appreciates it, he feels less alone when he’s talking or texting you. albeit, there’s a familiar melancholy feeling that washes over him the moment he hangs up with you, your goodbyes only reminding him you’re not there with him. he misses you terribly, it’s almost so pathetic how much he misses you. he misses your voice already, your laughter, your smile that he cherishes so much, your lips, your skin…the way he would have access to it, running his digits against your soft skin whenever he craved your touch. god, he missed you so, so much. he missed the sounds you would make whenever he was burying his cock inside of you, the way you would praise him for doing such a good job fucking you, the sight of you bouncing on his cock while he whined and begged for you to let him cum.

a whine falls from his lips once he’s brought back to reality, the living room’s empty and it’s almost dark out, his cock twitching in his boxers. he needs you now - fuck, he needs you so bad. a sob escapes from him… it’s such a pathetic sound it only makes him more desperate for you. he thinks about calling you, he needs your attention, but he isn’t sure you’ll be able to help him with his little problem—what if you’re with your parents? he can’t risk that. instead, he scrolls through your messages, back to that photo you sent of yourself a few days ago. it was a low quality photo, one that shouldn’t have brought him the pleasure it did, but you just looked so beautiful.

he fiddles with his belt, struggling with one hand. once he finally manages, he unbuttons his jeans pulling them down along with his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles. he positions his phone in front of him where he can get a good look at you. he starts stroking his cock, pre cum dripping from the tip… he’s lucky he has the house to himself considering how loud he starts to get. he whines, begging for you… “please, please, please,” he begs, his cock throbbing in his hand as he’s stroking it. he stares at the photo of you, eyes brimming with tears at the overstimulation. he quickens his strokes, his cock desperately wanting to release. “mm’so good. please, please let me come.” he whines, bucking into his fist. the thought of you denying his release only made him harder.

his eyes were hazy, daring to shut but he so desperately wanted to continue to stare at how fucking hot you looked in that photo. more whines escaped from his mouth, crying out your name, begging for you to let him come. “i’ll… i’ll be so good for you just - fuck - please let me come,” he cried out, picking up the pace. lewd sounds of his hand pumping his cock and his whimpering sounds filled the home, he wondered if the neighbours could hear him. god, he wished you could hear him. hear how much he needed you—how eager and hungry he was for you, for your touch; for all of you.

he was close. he continued to stroke himself, the thought of your pretty hands around his cock only bring him closer to his release. “m’so close, baby. please let me come.” he sobs and like that he threw his head back, a loud final groan slipping from his lips as he bucked into his hand one last time before finishing, his come coating him. he panted heavily trying to catch his breath—he was a complete mess now. his hair sweaty, sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed, his hand covered in come. if only you could’ve seen him like this.

[cameronspecial]

Idea:

Rafe and Reader have sex at a party but they don’t know that Rafe’s ex is filming them.

The next day its leaked and everyone has seen the video.

They didn’t know until Sarah called Reader (angry) because nobody knew they were together.

Violation of Privacy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: UNCONSENSUAL FILMING OF SEX (Not by Rafe) AND DISTRIBUTING IT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: I changed the plot a little. If this has happened to you, please know that this isn't your fault and that there are resources that can help you.

Masterlist

Rafe and Y/N exit his bedroom one after the other, looking around to make sure no one is around to see them together. He finishes buttoning up his shirt while she is running her fingers through her hair so it looks less of a mess. If anyone was watching, they would easily be able to see that the couple just had sex in the room. The secrecy of their activities in the bedroom isn’t because they are embarrassed about the act, but because their relationship itself is a secret. With one final sweep of the hallway, Y/N leans up to give Rafe a kiss on the lips before running off to her friends.

——

Y/N wakes up the next morning to the ringing of her phone. As soon as it stops, it starts up again to tell her that whoever is trying to reach her still wants to talk. Her hand darts out from under the warmth of her covers to grab her phone on the side table. She brings it to her ear, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Hello,” she manages to croak out. Sarah lets out a sigh of relief, “Don’t open the mass text that you got this morning.” “What are you talking about? What mass texts?” Y/N questions. Despite her friend’s warning, she opens up her texts to see a group chat containing just about every Kook and Pogue near their age. Derogatory and disgustingly sexual texts from various males of the island are sprinkled in between texts defending an unknown she. Y/N keeps scrolling, ignoring the call of her name coming from her phone. The start of the conversation is finally in sight. She freezes at the thumbnail of the video; a familiar bedroom portrayed on her screen. She hesitates to press the play button, but there is a sick part of her that needs to confirm what she suspects. 

The room is still in the video for a few seconds before light is brought in through the opening of the door. As soon as her giggles reach her ears and Rafe kissing her neck comes into the frame, she throws the phone across the room. Who had recorded them?  Why would they want to invade their privacy by not only filming such an intimate activity but sharing it with people it did not belong to? The discomfort in her stomach grows tenfold and she has to run to the bathroom to stop herself from making a mess in her bedroom. 

She can hear the front door being opened and Rafe’s voice fills the air. “Beautiful, are you here?” She can’t call out to him, too busy emptying her stomach in the toilet. He finds her hunched over the toilet and rushes to her side. One hand forms a ponytail in her hair and the other rubs her back soothingly. “I’m guessing you saw the text,” he whispers, bringing his lips to her temple. She can merely let out a cry as she wipes the corner of her mouth and curls into his hold. She cries in silence for a moment, “I feel so violated. I don’t feel safe anymore. Rafe, who could’ve filmed us in your bedroom?” Rafe’s heart sighs a little, thanking the universe that she doesn’t suspect him because he has absolutely nothing to do about this. “I don’t know, Beautiful. But I’m going to find them and make them pay,” he promises to her. 

“I don’t care about revenge. I care about the fact that someone destroyed something that was supposed to be between us and made it into an object to be viewed by any asshole who wants to jerk off to it. I care about the fact that I don’t feel beautiful anymore because I’ve read all the horrid objectifying things people think about me.”

“Hey, look at me. Don’t ever doubt your beauty, Beautiful. Don’t let those pervs have that part of you that should feel like yours. You are beautiful in so many other ways than just your body. Why do you think it’s your nickname?”

She looks up to him with warmth in her heart, “What other ways am I beautiful?” “In your mind. In your heart. In your love for everyone around you. In everything you do. The people, who say those things about you, don’t know what true beauty is,” Rafe reassures the best that he can. He knows nothing can really placate what she is feeling. If she is feeling even half of what he is, the turmoil going on in his girlfriend’s mind would be categorized as the worst type of hurricane. What they are going through is worse for her because women are always crucified in these situations while men are praised. All Rafe wants to do is comfort his girlfriend, “What can I do to make you feel better?” “I want to go to the police about this. I know it won’t take the video back but at least the person who sent it will get their justice and hopefully, they won’t be able to do this to someone else,” she whispers. Rafe nods, “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

He stands up, giving her a kiss before going to her room to get a change of clothes. The whispers of her name calling from the phone catches his attention and he leans down to pick it up. “Sarah?” he questions. Sarah lets out a breath, “Rafe, where is she? Is she okay? I tried to tell her not to look. I didn’t even know you guys were dating. Nobody knew.” “That’s because it was a secret. It wouldn’t be a secret if everyone knew,” he states plainly into the phone. “And she’s doing as okay as anyone in this situation would be. She obviously feels horrible about it. Listen, I gotta go. We are going to go to the police station. Get down to the bottom of this.” With mumbled goodbyes, he hangs up the phone and gets Y/N’s clothes. 

——

At the station, the police take Rafe and Y/N’s statements and phones as evidence to track down the number who sent out the text. Rafe opens up the car door for her and rounds the car to the driver’s side once she is in. When he enters, tears are already streaming down her face. He pulls her over the center console into a hug to comfort her. “I know this is hard, but we are going to get through this together. I promise,” he vows to her, running his fingers through her hair. This whole mess feels like hell, but at least they have each other. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron

[gilverrwrites]

My horny ass has been watching Gotham again.

A-Z Gotham Men* and how they fuck you.

*like 75% of Gotham men: Alfred, Bullock, Butch, Ed/The Riddler, Jerome, Jervis, Jim, Lucius, Maroni, Penguin, and Zsasz 🖤

18+ MINORS DNI

Almost everything Alfred does is practiced, and purposeful and despite all his training, he’s still rough around the edges. But when he looks into your eyes, when he hears his name on your lips, all of that hardness and posturing dissipates. He tries to praise you but it comes out all muddled and breathless. So he worships your body as best he can, gently brushing your most sensitive parts with strong calloused hands, rocking your bodies together until you’re as lost as he is. Sometimes he does it with those white cotton gloves still on, and he neglects to clean them for days after because he can still smell you on them.

Bullock talks a big game, but he’s not the man he used to be. Still, what he lacks in youth, he makes up for in enthusiasm. Swollen lips kiss and suck at you, wherever he can find, his scruffy facial hair leaving beard rash on all his favourite parts. Firm, clammy hands pull and grope and guide your body, showing you how he likes it done. “Oh yeah, ooooh yeah, baby.” He pants between ragged breaths and clenched teeth, “Feels so fucking good baby, just like that.” When he’s done he wipes you down with a wet cloth and a cheeky grin, offering to buy you a drink he’s needed since you started.

Butch is big and sturdy and such a good boy. Butch is happy to say whatever you want to hear, to do whatever you want him to do, for you to use his body however you need to get off. “Anything for you Ma’.” He gets high on the scent of you, whimpers when you touch his cock, and eagerly licks up any mess he’s made, whenever, and wherever you allow him to. He’s at your service, just tell him what to do, so long as you shower him with your praise and adoration when you’re done. He especially loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, and plant your kisses behind his ears.

Ed is curious and attentive. His voice is shaky as he asks “Is this okay?” “Does that feel good?” “Is all this because of me?” His long fingers tentatively exploring every inch of you, in and out, memorising every jerk of your body, retaining every noise you make. He refuses to cum until you’re ready, until you’re fully entwined and engrossed in each other.

But The Riddler knows you’re needy. The Riddler takes advantage of that desperation, because it makes you dumb and mailable. He uses your body for his pleasure, he knows where to twist and pull to make your walls wet and tight around him. When you try to speak, he shushes you, cups your cheeks in gloved hands and coos; “I know, I know. Don’t speak. Just take it.”

Jerome is unpredictable. Some nights he’s a tease, making you beg and plead for your own defilement. It’s an act, entertainment, and you’re his favourite performer. When you’re good to him, he’s good to you, but when you’re bad, he’s really really bad. But it’s hard to be good, because he likes to move the goalpost whenever he senses you getting comfortable.

On other nights he’s clingy, and dutiful. He uses you to keep his cock warm, cradling you, swaying your bodies back and forth, inching himself deeper and deeper inside of you, and laughing into the crook of your neck.

Jervis is composed, and poised. He rolls his sleeves up and lets his hat sit askew while you ride him. Likes to watch the way you wither and pant, your eyes grow more and more vacant each time you work his cock deeper into your burning core. Likes to whisper and woo you with his sweet nothings. “Aren’t you a treasure? Fucking yourself for my pleasure?” It’s such a thrill to watch you come undone for him, especially when you’ll unravel yourself willingly.

As to be expected, Jim is the vanilla type. The quiet type, the strong and sturdy type. He makes love to you like it’s his duty, holding you down in missionary or the mating press as he hammers into you in powerful, uniform thrusts into your both coming undone, your name escaping his lips in an atypically soft whisper when he finishes deep inside you. What’s less expected is his oral fixation. Jim likes to relieve his stress by loosing himself between your legs, by licking and sucking and biting all the parts that make you flinch. He likes to know he’s left his mark on you, even if it’s confined to the places only he can lay his eyes on.

Lucius is like the cat that got the cream, grinning the whole time, every time. No matter the place or position, he peppers your skin with kisses, the curl of his lips evident with each press of his open mouth. He likes it slow and deep. Holds your feet over his shoulders and sink in until you can both feel his tip press against your cervix. Tell him how good that feels, smile back at him and he’s a goner. He likes to finish in your mouth, likes to watch the way your body perks when his cock twitches against your tongue, the way your expression softens, and your lids grow heavy when his thick, warm cum hits the back of your throat. You can barely roll over to grab the tissue before he’s on you again, ready to assault you with yet another round of smile-laden kisses.

Maroni likes a show, likes to be entertained, likes to know he makes you feel good without barely lifting a finger, he’s just that good, you know? So he lets you grind against him, or lets you ride him, nice and slow. He might play with your nipples when he wants you to make those pretty little noises, or press your tongue down with his think fingers when he wants you to be quiet. After you’ve found your release he holds your hips in a vice-like grip as he bucks up into you, deceptively fast for a big guy, until he unloads wherever he sees fit.

Penguin fucks you in a frenzy, high on your body, using you like every time is the first and last chance he’ll get. He ruts into you in short, sharp movements. He likes to see you on your knees, worshipping at his feet, taking him in whatever hole he pleases. He likes to rub his cock on your face, likes to mark you with his musk. When he speaks, it’s between shallow, harsh breaths, he begs demands that you call out his name, again, and again, louder and louder, ensuring everyone knows you belong to the King of Gotham.

Zsasz doesn’t care about your pleasure or comfort. In fact, it’s your pain that gets him off. Zsasz will fuck you dry so he can watch you flinch. He pinches, and wrenches, and grabs you like a ragdoll. He enjoys choking you until your neck is bruised and swollen, until you're crying deliciously salty tears that he loves to lick up. He likes to cut you on those fleshy, tender parts, likes to see your deep red blood on his pale hands. He loves to fuck you until you’re shaking, until you’re sore and overstimulated and begging him to stop.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.