#idk what came over me to write this

[microcosmtoxin]

unironically i think fandom and fanfic is probably responsible for way more knowledge of safe sex for people under 30 than any actual sex education

[mxltifxnd0m]

white collared ✮ s. winchester

summary: you can't stop staring at sam in his priest getup

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester gn afab! reader

word count: 1.1K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', no mention of pronouns besides a "good girl", cursing, making out, sam in the priest outfit (yes thats a warning), dean being a menace as per usual, implied smut, kinda edited

a/n: got inspired from a edit of priest sam i saw on my feed and i wrote most of this in class and then in the library, so enjoy :p

enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

YOU WERE STARING. Scratch that. You were practically devouring Sam with your eyes as he came out of the motel bathroom, adjusting the clerical collar that was around his neck.

Your eyes followed Sam as he bustled around the motel room, barely registering that Dean had gone into the bathroom to change himself. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Sam, your mouth feeling dry as you swallowed thickly, trying to pull your gaze away from the taller Winchester. 

Christ almighty, how could someone look so good in a priest outfit?

You thought to yourself as Sam sat down at the table near the kitchenette in the room. Your eyes trailed up and down Sam’s broad figure from your spot on the bed. The black slacks were tight around his thighs, and you could only imagine how good his ass looked in those pants. 

The white clerical collar was starch white, contrasting the tanned skin at the hollow of Sam's throat. You bit your bottom lip as you saw Sam’s dexterous fingers pull at the collar, adjusting it before your eyes followed his hand as it fell back onto his thigh. 

A low chuckle coming from the man you were staring at snapped you out of your stupor, and you met Sam’s hazel eyes, filled with amusement. You could recognize the familiar look of desire that lingered in the greens and golds that colored his gaze. 

Sam’s plush lips were pulled into a sly smirk as he shook his head, a piece of his hair falling in his face as he did. “See something you like?” He asked, his tone teasing. 

You felt your cheeks fill with heat at being caught staring at Sam. But you tried playing it off, rolling your eyes as you sat up, making your way to the table he was sitting at, and resting your hip against the edge of it, looking to your left at him. Sam had to tilt his head up a bit to meet your eyes. 

It’s unfair how his height barely changes when he sits down. 

“Maybe I do.” You let your eyes trail over Sam’s body again before meeting his gaze again. 

Sam’s lips twitched before slowly rising in his seat, the chair scraping against the carpeted floor, and he leaned forward, his hands resting on the table as his face got closer to yours. Now, you had to crane your head back to make contact with his eyes. 

“This is doing something for you isn’t it?” He questioned, Sam’s head tilted slightly as the sly smirk turned into a grin. The white of his teeth almost distracted you from the devilish expression on his face as his eyes darkened and his tongue peaked out to wet his bottom lip. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to resist the urge to clench your thighs together at the lust filling his eyes as he stared at you, feeling heat pool in your core. 

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled as you broke the eye contact the two of you were sharing as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

You heard another chuckle escape Sam’s lips. You listened to some shuffling and felt one of his fingers push your jaw to look at him. Sam was standing in front of you as he took your chin in between his index finger and thumb. His lips stretched into a lewd smirk as he leaned closer to you, his cologne filling your senses as you felt his breath fan over your face. 

“Who knew that you have a thing for priests?” 

You uncrossed your arms and scoffed at him before hooking your fingers into the belt loops of his pants, pulling him closer to you. “I have a thing for you in this getup, not the other way around.” You clarified, your lips pulling into a half-smirk. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure?” 

“Shut up, you know how gorgeous you are.” You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s honestly unfair how good you look in anything.” 

Sam huffed a laugh through his nose. “Mhm, sure.” He rubbed his nose against yours before capturing your lips between his, pulling you into a fiery kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. You let out a low moan as you pulled him closer to you and felt his bulge grind against you. 

Sam always had this hold on you every time he placed his lips on yours. The only thing that was on your mind was always Sam. It was like there was a giant neon sign that flashed his name every time he touched you. 

Suddenly, Sam pulled himself away from you. What you didn’t realize as Sam was making out with you was that Dean had finished changing into his own priest getup and stepped out of the bathroom.

You heard him clear his throat, and you looked over at Dean. Though you would never admit it out loud or to anyone ever, Dean looked as good as Sam did in the white collar (but you had a bias towards your boyfriend because, well, he's your boyfriend).

Dean raised an eyebrow at the two of you. “You two done defiling each other?” 

“Shut up.” Sam shot a scowl at Dean's smirking face.  

“Nope." Dean said, popping the 'p' obnoxiously. "Next time don’t make out in the same room as me.” He came over to the table and smacked his hand onto Sam’s shoulder before brushing past him and left the motel room. 

You let out a small laugh as Sam’s face twisted into his bitch face before sighing. But a smile slowly appeared on his face at the sound of your laugh. 

He turned around to face you again. You looked at him with a smile. His smile got wider before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss against your lips. Sam pulled away, letting his forehead rest against yours. 

“You should probably get another room before we get back.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” 

The edges of Sam's' lips threatened to curl up before his face became serious.

"Because I have plans for you and I don't want to share this room with Dean."

"Oh?" A smirk grew on your face. "What kind of plans?" You asked coyly.

Sam let out a soft laugh before pulling back and cupping your face with his warm hand, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek softly.

"The kind of plans that require you to be on your knees repenting and confessing all the naughty thoughts that your mind conjured up about me ever since I came out of the bathroom."

The heat in your core grew brighter as you clenched your thighs together at the low rumble of Sam’s voice. 

“You understand?” You nodded dumbly at his words, and Sam pecked your lips. 

“Good girl.” Sam sent you another smirk before letting his hand fall from your face and exiting the room. 

You swallowed thickly as you stood frozen in your spot. “Well, fuck me.” You breathed out before leaving the room and getting another, just like Sam asked. 

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

[themeraldee]

First Time for Everything

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 2.1k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Cunnilingus. Fingering. Overstimulation. Squirting. Literally just PWP.

Written for anon 💚

Homelander’s got you with your back flush to the bed, panting and twitching. He’s just finished a damn good job of licking and sucking your cunt through an orgasm, as always delivered without a hitch. You’re there thrashing around like a fish out of water but he’s got your hips pinned down and there’s not a chance in hell you could ever get out of his titanium hold.

With his head still buried in between your thighs he flattens his tongue over your quivering pussy, feeling every throb, pulse and twitch. Fuck, you feel good against his tongue. While most people he encounters quiver with fear, you quiver with mindless pleasure, the muscles in your thighs shaking around his head. The smell of you has him hungry for more as he laps over your weeping cunt a few more times, catching your clit at every swipe of his tongue. And you taste fucking divine. It was only appropriate for a god like him to be served the most exquisite pussy.

He moves his hand up, pressing down on your pubic area to hold you while his other, now free, hand squeezes his shaft through the soft padding of his pants. It’s not really enough, not enough at all. Especially compared to the delicious squeeze of your cunt he recently got so used to. He pulls back to watch as it uselessly squeezes around nothing, begging for his cock and his cock only. 

All in due time. If he stuffed you full now, the fresh tight, orgasm-powered squeeze of your slick walls would have him spilling in no time. You truly were lucky to have him. Nobody else could be so attuned to your needy body’s reactions. Nobody else could see your inner walls pulsate and throb, still coated in your delicious sticky sap.

Just as your orgasm eases off, you lift yourself up slowly to your elbows, then to an almost sitting position, supported by your hands. But Homelander isn’t ready to give up the control he has over your convulsing body. So instead he stops squeezing his cock and he pushes you down on your back again.

“Nope, you stay down. I’m not done with you yet.” His tone was innocently cheerful but his grin didn’t hide the depravity of his thoughts. Oh the thoughts running through his head on just how many ways he can ruin you. Just how many orgasms can he give you before you pass out? Have you ever come without getting your now poor and overstimulated clit played with? He should find out. Fucking into your cunt at every angle imaginable, from either side, front and back, upside down; he could do it all—effortlessly. And when your pussy is raw and aching? Well then he’ll have a little play around with your cute ass. Have you ever had your asshole fingered? Of course not, you were too sweet for that. 

Now that you’re his he’s gonna have to work hard to screw that sweetness out of you until he’s left with an unabashedly begging mess that he knows is hiding in you. His cock throbs at the idea. The idea of corrupting you to your filthy core is a tempting one.

He wants—no, needs—you to know that there’s never gonna be anyone that can make you feel like this.

Now that you’re on your back again without much protesting, he peels his gloves off. He thought about stretching your cunt around the soft leather of his glove but the temptation to feel your throbbing flesh around his bare digits was too strong to overcome. 

He places his left palm flat on your pubic area, pressing down a little. Looking up he meets your eyes and with another shark-like dazzling grin he asks. “Comfortable?”

You give a cutesy little nod, biting your lip. How dare you look so cute. Other vermin usually tremble in fear anytime he’s close to getting his hands on them whether it be with good intentions or not, yet there you are with his palm pressing down on you and all it does is send a thrill up your spine. The same palm that is capable of very easily crushing the bones in your pelvis is currently splayed out tapping each finger in succession against your skin.

You give your hips a wiggle just to show him how comfortable you are with barely being able to move.

“Good.” He smiles at you, his heart skipping a beat at the joy and excitement that is pouring out of you. You really fucking love him. Feeling overwhelmed by that ballooning emotion he looks down instead focusing his thoughts on your pussy. She’s eagerly waiting for him, so really it’d be rude of him to take any longer.

His pointer and middle finger slide from the top of your slit all the way down. Immediately coated in the sticky goodness your cunt can’t seem to stop producing around him. His slicked fingers go up to your clit, spread in a V shape, now catching your clit where they meet. You give him a few little squeaks each time he gives your clit another teasing bump. How you appear so apple pie sweet even when he’s got his fingers and lips soaked in your juices never ceases to amaze him.

His fingers finally make it down to your hole. It’s pulsating right in front of his fingers, opening up and just trying to slurp him in. It’s a miracle he hasn’t shoved his cock in there yet today. He licks his lips, the taste of you a reminder of good times while the tips of his fingers slide in.

He parts his lips, eyebrows furrowed as he watches your flesh eagerly slick his way through. He lets out a short cut-off gasp as he turns his fingers upside down with his palm now facing up while still inside you. And god is it fucking tight in there. He hasn’t had a chance to stretch you out yet. His cock throbs constantly now, his balls feel heavy, aching to unload inside you. Just feeling your cunt choke his fingers out makes him gasp. The memory of what it’s like to have you squeeze his hard shaft is indescribable, yet he feels it vividly around his fingers knowing you’d be pulling load after load from him. No chance he’s pulling out with a grip like that, fuck.

He’s way too close to messing up his pants with how vivid his memory feels so instead he focuses on you. He needs to ruin you as much as you ruin him. There you are happily on your back not even knowing how hard you’re making this on him. He needs you just as ruined. Just as hazy with the lust he feels anytime he smells your cunt get wet.

He pumps his fingers in and out a few times, getting the digits thoroughly soaked. He presses you down a little harder. You need to be kept in place. He crooks his fingers up, pressing against the soft spongy spot with his fingertips. 

He’s only two knuckles deep when he pumps his fingers inside you. He starts slowly. His strong fingers massage you, forcing gentle sighs out of you. Yeah, that won’t do. Going a little harder, he fucks his fingers in and out of you in a curved motion, hitting those upper walls with each stroke. His approach is loose and relaxed, giving you a little warm-up. 

“Homelander…” Like music to his ears you moan his name. Your upper body arches. Your hands squeeze the sheets, your own tits, anything. Not being able to move your hips leaves you defenseless. He speeds up. He keeps up the same rhythm, unfaltering in the motion. The squelch of you alone has him salivating. Whether it’s because he’s hungry to eat your pussy again or just desperate to bury himself balls-deep he doesn’t know, but he wants it either way.

“Oh god, wait, it’s too much..” One of your hands grips his forearm, trying to pull his hand away from holding you down but you stand no chance. Good luck pushing against his godly frame. The only way you’d get him off would be if he took mercy on you. And he’s definitely not planning on that.

Your responsive cunt quivers around his digits. He feels your rushed breath and raised heart rate through the press of his hand. It’s delicious. Giving up any control you ever had over yourself and letting him take the wheel. Even though his pace is harsh, his rhythm is even. He fucks you silly as you cry out, eyes welling up with tears when he doesn’t let up.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down! Please, fuck—oh fuck—please slow down, Homelander!” You sound shrill, panicked as an unfamiliar feeling rises in your core when Homelander’s fingers plunge into you over and over again, rubbing your wet cunt raw and sensitive. 

He doesn’t stop. Not yet. He wants another pretty big finish. He wants a display equivalent to the fanfare of the 4th of July fireworks. He wants you to celebrate him. Your body needs to appreciate how much he’s giving you.

Each wet throb of your pussy has his cock leaking into his underwear and if he were any ordinary man he’d be losing all self-control, rutting into the sheets or just you, chasing his own spectacular finish. But this is about you proving how much you love him. How much are you willing to endure?

 “Please, it’s too much, too much, toomuch.” You’re gasping for breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your cheeks are streaked with tears as your pathetic attempts at getting him to stop fail. He’s unyielding. A marble statue. Perfect in every way.

Your cunt is vividly locking up around his fingers and while he expected a show-stopping orgasm he didn’t expect this. A gush of clear liquid spurts out of you, followed by wail coming from your lips. Fuck. You’re a squirter. He pulls his fingers out with a squelch as you gush a few more times, soaking his hand, the sheets beneath you and his sleeve. Looking at his soaked sleeve now he thinks he doesn’t even want to get it washed out, carrying the scent of your pussy around like a trophy. 

It’s uncontrollable. Your muscles quiver in a way he’s never seen before. He plunges his fingers into you again, greedy to see if there’s any more in you. Come on, you can do better for him. He deserves the fucking best.

He fucks his fingers into your weeping cunt rapidly, less rhythm this time as he realizes that the heavy breathing he hears is coming from him. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, slick and squirt coating your thighs, running down in between your ass cheeks adding to the embarrassing bodily squelch of being just a bit too messy. 

It’s alright, he can be messy too. He’ll forgive you for this.

You throb hot and heavy around his fingers and he pulls them out again as he watches you gush two more respectable spurts out of your exhausted pussy. He finally lifts his palm off your pubic area and already you’re squirming, pulling back from him and letting your muscles quiver freely.

“Wow, someone didn’t share all their talents with me!” He looks at you. Wow. He wishes he had a camera on him. You’re panting, your eyes are wet and hazy, your lips are swollen from the way you’ve been biting them and you’ve broken out into sweat. “Made a nasty mess, sweetheart.” He gives your pussy a wet pat with his hand while it’s still in reach. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t know I could…” You sound wrecked. Jesus, he’s done a number on you. But that’s good, you do a number on him each time too. It was only fair you got to know what it's like to feel so uncontrollably good. “Umh, huh, I’m—I’m sorry. For the mess, I mean.” Aren’t you cute? He forced you to squirt and yet your good nature made you feel like apologizing. The only person you should apologize to should be the Vought employee that’s gonna be responsible for changing the sheets after he’s fully done with you. And even then they don’t fucking deserve your apology.

By now he’s had enough of you pulling away, trying to keep him away from this beautiful performance. My god, you were a natural at this. And he’s so fucking close to making you unravel fully.

“Shh, shh, none of that. No apologies. Instead…” He trails off, flashing you another sharp grin. He grabs you by your thighs pulling you right against where he's rock hard and aching. 

“Think you can do that on my cock too?”

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole | @misatxox

[unboundprompts]

A SHORT X TALL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP!!!! yes pls. they would be funny if you wrote it so pls

Height differences are my kryptonite I swear

Height Difference OTP Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

"I love you," she mumbled, turning her head in embarrassment. "What did you say?" He teased, poking her. "I couldn't hear you from way up here." She huffed, looking up at him while a blush spread across her cheeks. "I said, I love you, you giant idiot."

"Can I borrow your shirt?" She asked, holding it up. "Yeah," her girlfriend responded, "if you want to look like you're wearing a parachute."

"You know, I've always liked it when you're on your knees," They said teasingly, brushing his hair behind his ear. "Why?" He asked, lip quirking upwards. "So you can finally look me in the eyes?"

She planted a soft kiss to the top of their head. "You can kiss me on the lips like a normal person, you know," they told her, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged. "It takes so much effort to bend over."

"You give the best hugs, I swear."

"You might have fourteen inches on me, but that does not mean I won't still kick your ass."

"You're acting like a child." "Well, at least I don't look like one."

"If you don't stop hiding the cookies on the top shelf I'm coming after your kneecaps."

"Lean over." "Why?" "Lean over." "For what?" "So I can kiss you!"

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[idontmindifuforgetme]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[slushfaerie]

thinking about patrick gently caressing your cheek, running an almost sweet hand through your hair as he fucks you.

you say you're close and he just laughs as he stuffs himself impossibly deeper into your messy cunt.

"think i don't already know? greedy pussy's squeezing me so tight, 's like she's trying to milk me dry. can fuckin' feel it.."

he presses a little kiss to your forehead after he spills inside of you. doesn't think he'll ever get enough of you.

[bonbonly]

oh to be a film star, heel on someone’s chest as he’s on the ground. a smirk on his face, a hand running up your leg, inching up your calf while staring into your eyes. shirt unbuttoned, heel digging into his bare chest and he winces slightly, chuckling lowly.

“surely you can spare some mercy on me?” he asks, breathless. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes raking over your body. you lean forward, pushing the heel further,

“pay me what you owe me, and then we’ll talk about mercy,” your lips form into a thin line. you yelp in surprise when he grabs you and flips you onto your back, taking the heel off of you as he kisses your feet, lips trailing down your leg before biting the insides of your thighs.

“payment can be made in many ways,” he inhales the scent of your clothed pussy, nose rubbing against the fabric, nudging at your clit that leaves you yearning for more. your fingers dance to the collar of his shirt, pulling him up into a kiss that leaves both of you shaking.

who do you envision from my hollywood!au?

[ravensmadreads]

Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys

Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom

JAVIER PEÑA

Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.

Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)

That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)

BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.

JAVIER GUTIERREZ

Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.

JOEL MILLER

(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠

DIETER BRAVO

Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.

MAX PHILLIPS

Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p

MARCUS PIKE

Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me

MARCUS MORENO

Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~

DAVE YORK

Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.

FRANKIE MORALES

Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~

JACK DANIELS

BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:

Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"

PERO TOVAR

Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."

DIN DJARIN

Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.

*****

TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)

@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)

[tartagliove]

Thinking about fox shifter!Childe who loves to chase bunny shifter!Reader. He chased you when he first met you, fox paws pinning you down in your squirming rabbit form, until you wore yourself out and he took you home with him. But after he knows you, he still loves the chase.

The tinge of instinctual fear intermingled with nervous thrill in your scent makes his blood pump. His fox ears are out, tail streaming behind him as he chases after you, following the noises you make as you bound and leap through the forest, trying to stretch out the distance between you and him.

You’re fast, but Childe has trained tirelessly over the years to hone his senses and master his body—both human and fox form, and the in-betweens. So he gains on you, your scent growing stronger to the point he can almost taste it.

He can tell you’re tiring.

Once he closes the distance and catches you, hands wrapping around your waist and spinning you around, he pushes you up against a tree. Before you can get a word out, he tears through the sleeve of your shirt with sharp claws, his fox features still present with the adrenaline running through his veins. Your noise of surprise is ignored. He swipes his tongue along your neck, savoring the taste of your skin: slightly salty from running, but your sweet scent is so strong here. Childe can hear your blood pumping, see your pulse fluttering, and he can’t help himself.

He bites.

Sinks his teeth into your skin, where your neck curves into your shoulder. You whine in shock at the sting of pain, but a shiver runs down your spine. His canines are sharper than a normal human’s, but he takes care to not break skin—this time.

He pulls back slowly when you thump your fist into his chest.

“Get off! Why did you have to go and tear my top?”

Childe runs his tongue over his teeth. He can taste you on his tongue, in his mouth, and he grins. “You ran from me.”

Your fingers brush over his bite mark. “I thought that was the whole point of what we planned,” you complain. “Why am I getting punished for it?”

“That’s not a punishment,” he says, blue eyes darkening. “It’s a reminder that I’ll always catch you, no matter how far you run.” He’ll be satisfied with the possessive mark left on your neck for now. It will fade in a few days, but that will be the perfect excuse for him to chase you again.

[somegrumpynerd]

Does anyone else hc that Nightmare can like, absorb his tentacles back into his body sometimes? Like the way Stitch does with his extra arms?

[zorosdimples]

thank you pasi @nkogneatho, jes @jeschalynn, and melk @papersirens for making me insane!

middle-aged toji who’s not as trim as he was in his twenties.

he’s as broad and strong as ever, and all his muscle is still there—it’s just nestled under fat that comes with a life well-lived. he complains about his back and knees, but only when it suits him; aches and pains never stop him from throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing (he swears you’re as light as a feather, and you have half a mind to believe him).

he has learned to embrace the black hair that adorns his body, no longer feeling like he has to be hairless to show off his physique. why would he ever shave again when you lick his happy trail with the upmost reverence? when you twirl your fingers in his chest hair and nuzzle against the stubble on his jawline?

he would be lying if he said he didn’t get self-conscious from time to time. but the way you pounce on him when he’s in his usual fitted black shirt and sweatpants makes it painfully clear: no matter what his body looks like as he ages, you’ll love every part of him all the same.

[a-ikuoliver]

HELLO LOVER

for your wittle event i am asking for hanky panky with… shinsou 😔 (also i love u bye)

HELLO LOVER!!!!!! thank u so much and im so so so sorry, i wrote this with my dick i can't even lie i don't remember half of this tw: toxic relationship + fingering (f!receiving) birthday bash intro + rules + menu | event masterlist

fuck. fuck. fuck. “fuuuck,”

you ignore his chuckle when he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to the red mark at the side of your throat, his tongue already gliding over your skin before you can even fumble with the lock on the cubicle door. desperately, you clutch at his shoulders, blunt nails bruising the skin beneath his dark shirt when he nipped beneath your jaw again, sucking at the skin beneath your ear just to hear you suck in a hiss, revelling in how it hadn’t changed; he could still drive you crazy, could still cloud your mind with a single well-placed kiss.

fuck. you’d been so good; his number was blocked, you finally deleted that burner account you used to stalk his socials two months ago, you avoided the smoke shop on the corner near your place even though they had the cutest lighters and trinkets, you dyed your hair without worrying what he’d think about it. all of that, and still you end up here.

your lips are already swollen, tender from being sucked and bitten, shinso pulling you into the bathroom before it had even been an hour since you arrived, the taste of your cocktail still on your lips when he first kissed you. dizzy, you tug at his hips, breaking the kiss to breathlessly murmur his name, your heart jumping at the taste of it on your tongue after so long.

“shh, baby, i know,” his voice is so low and so gravelly when he whispers, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. you’re sure you’re soaking when he pops the button of your pants, sliding his hand down your abdomen into your underwear. he shudders feeling your soft skin, taking his time to drive you insane with his slow, electric touches to your drooling cunt; every touch deliberate, avoiding where you needed him until your hips were jolting, searching for him, until it was no argument how much you needed him.

his dark eyes sent a shock of lightning into your stomach when you finally felt the tip of his fingers at your clit, your body jumping into his touch the more he teased you. always obsessed with this push and pull, he wanted you to seek his touch, his body heat, his approval, he wanted you to seek him. if your eyes weren’t squeezed shut, you’d see the way his violet eyes glimmered watching your hips chase him.

you never should have tried to avoid him; you should’ve religiously checked his posts, zooming into every detail of the picture he posted smoking in the alleyway behind the bar, you’d have seen the logo printed on his chest if you had just stalked him. you’d know he dyed his hair darker (the exact deep indigo shade you loved on him), you’d know he changed his labret to a silver ring instead of the spiked post, you would’ve known how fucking good he looked. you would’ve touched yourself looking at the pictures of him instead of this, cum on your fingers again and again until it felt as good as he did.

you could have avoided this if you didn’t try to avoid him. if you hadn’t been so good.

you can’t help the whine that leaves you when he finally gives in, sinking his fingers into your needy cunt, infuriatingly slowly, like he’s savouring the way you pulse at every knuckle. shinso’s amethyst eyes are glued to your bitten lips, admiring the way your features changes when you grind your hips into his hand, how needy you look before he’s even moved. he’s still staring at you when he curls his fingers, dragging two fingers inside you just enough to have your jaw falling slack, to get your chest heaving, to get your cunt clenching around him like it always did; to make sure nothing had changed.

“god, i missed you,” you respond with a garbled version of his name, more of a broken moan than anything, unable to spit out anything else when he started fucking you with his fingers, pressing every button he knew would wind you up, working you closer to cumming before his break was over. he knew he could, he knew you inside and out, hatred or not, he could unravel you.

“you missed me, hm?” he nudges your jaw with his nose, smiling against your skin when your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, your breath catching in your throat, “i know your pussy did.”

i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, every time your lips part to tell him as much, you can only moan instead, spouting gratitude, begging him not to stop, your anger from every argument melting from you the more your cunt drooled, the resentment deep inside you from every argument, every break up, swirling into something else the longer he fucked his fingers into you. did they even really matter when he had your cunt pulsing? when he could make you cum with one swipe of his thumb over your clit if he wanted to. he could probably make you squirt if you weren’t cramped in this cubicle with him. he decides he will when you come home with him, decides he’s going to taste you before the inevitable argument in the morning.

“fuck, you’re so hot when you act like you don’t need me.”

you can’t entirely tell if he’s being condescending, or if he wholeheartedly thinks every break up was foreplay. if he really thought you didn’t hate him for everything he did. for everything he didn’t do. for it always ending up like this. for every single ‘never again’.

“‘s always better when you’ve been avoiding me,” you still come undone, sticky cum coating his fingers when he talks down to you, that fucking face staring back at you when you meet his eyes again.

“but you always come back, don’t you?”

[clockwork-ashes]

Unbowed (one-shot)

Summary: The Lady of Autumn decides it’s time to murder her husband. Read also on Ao3.

Note: this was inspired by one of my favourite plays <3 i LOVED reading agamemnon, and could not help writing this one shot using clytemnestra as a base for the lady of autumn!!! thank you for reading :)

The Lady of Autumn stood by the window, watching as the leaves drifted lazily towards the ground. The gentle breeze had them dancing in pretty swirls, like an elegant script, as they fell from the almost bare branches of the trees. 

The moon was bright, its scarlet hue casting everything in an eerie glow. When she squinted, the pale stones leading to the garden resembled a river of blood, frozen in place. 

If she ignored the winding path, the world outside seemed to be entirely at peace, a striking contrast to the constantly shifting pattern of her thoughts. She fought to maintain her composure, shoulders back as if she were a puppet with the strings pulled taut. She clutched at the emerald fabric of her skirts when the door creaked open, the temperature in the large space shifting as her husband entered. 

"You're back so late," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging beneath her calm exterior. 

Beron’s boots echoed against the stone floor, each step deliberate as he made his way towards her. She could feel his presence, a looming shadow behind her. It was nearly instinct to turn and face him, to watch him with a careful eye in case he moved without warning. 

“And yet, Callista, I knew you’d be awake.” Her name rolled off his tongue, familiar to her ears. When he spoke softly, voice low and lovely, she could nearly forget how much she hated him. 

Callista kept her gaze fixed on the scene outside, although her attention remained on the sounds her husband made as he removed his jacket. She caught the elegant clatter his dagger made as he placed it on one of the low tables, and she wondered if he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 

When she had been younger, Callista had always liked the careful way he would untie the laces at his throat, each movement sharp as broken glass. It was an effort not to turn and look, to be reminded of a time when things between them had not been good, but had at least been better. 

Beron remained silent for a long moment, and she knew he was studying her. She could practically feel the burn of his dark stare, like the most gentle press of fingers around her throat. The world continued to spin, and Callista remained unmoving, unbowed. 

The feeling of his large hand on the small of her back made her heart skip a beat, a response born of uncertainty. She felt the way he bent down towards her, his chest pressed against her as he wrapped an arm around her thin waist. His breath fanned along her neck, sending shivers up her spine. She leaned into him, the action involuntary, expected. 

Callista twisted her neck, tilting her chin up so that she could meet his lips with her own. The kiss was rough, Beron’s hand tightening around her waist in a possessive claim. With her eyes closed, the scent of him was overwhelming, raging fires and the wind before a storm broke. She wanted to bite down on the full lower lip so close to her teeth, to taste the copper of his blood inside her mouth. 

When Beron pulled away first, she kept her eyes shut a moment longer, letting the darkness wash over her. 

“You won’t ask me about your son?” He murmured, the words an angry catch in his throat.  

Eris. 

Cruelty brought forth cruelty, she thought bitterly, and Eris had never truly been hers. She had been too young, had not known how to raise a child, and had been too angry at the world to try. Even in her memories, she could not picture a boy who smiled. 

Callista would still have burned the whole of Prythian to ash if something had happened to him. 

She took a sharp breath, looking up at her husband. “Does he live?” 

The question hung between them like an axe. Eris had moved against his father in an unexpected turn of fate’s wheel. He had betrayed them all, and had run to the Night Court, to fight alongside Lucien in a battle that had been brewing for months. 

Callista had never been more proud. 

Beron frowned, his lips tugging downwards in a convincing display of concern. If she had not known him better, she would have assumed he was grieving. “Who could say? The emerald fields of Spring are stained ruby dark.” 

Callista grabbed the High Lord’s hand, feeling the cool metal of his rings beneath her fingers. She shrugged out of his embrace, and he let her. Leaning against the window sill, she looked at the stars that cut through the darkness of the night sky. 

“You’re not afraid the others will follow him?” She whispered, biting her lip. 

Their home was an echoing womb of guilt, and had in turn raised sons with warring hearts. They fought amongst themselves like rabid wolves, but had only ever been loyal to one another, an inseparable pack. 

Beron growled deep within his chest, his footsteps thunderous as he created a well of distance from her. “No,” he spat, and Callista whirled around to watch him. 

He grabbed the bottle of cognac she had left on the ancient dresser by their shared bed. The crystal glass she had set next to it sparkled like ice as he took it in his hands, pouring with a flourish before drinking deeply. Callista kept her gaze on him, tracking each of his movements. 

“Don't drink so much,” she said softly, a loving wife’s quiet warning. 

“Speak less, Callista, I prefer your silence.” Beron poured another glass for himself, the amber liquid nearly spilling over the edge. He ignored her, draining the contents of the glass. His throat worked, the pale column of his neck white as bone. “I’m going to run a bath.” 

Callista looked at the broad width of his back, noticing the way his muscles pulled at the expensive fabric of his shirt. She could barely hold back her smile, a vicious promise as the balance scales of justice turned in her favour. Callista straightened her skirts, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

The water swirls red.  

A caged bird sings. 

Roses bloom in winter. 

Elain Archeron’s prophecy echoed in the Lady of Autumn’s mind, the never ending toll of a bell. She liked having a daughter who could see what others could not. 

Callista waited until she was certain that her husband’s heart was beating slowly in his chest, and then she waited even longer just to be sure. She had been afraid, had thought despite her understanding of hemlock that it would not have been enough. She nearly laughed at how easily she had gotten him to drink another glass of cognac. 

Her slippers made no sound as she walked towards the bath, her fingers shaking as she pushed the oak door open. Callista felt a cruel sort of delight grip her by the throat at seeing the High Lord so powerless, chained like a hound by her hands. 

The only torch that he had lit flickered sharply, and she paused, holding her breath. The fire’s glow lit her face as she approached the bath more carefully, her gaze falling on Beron’s sleeping form. His chest, peaking just above the water, rose and fell with a steady rhythm. His eyes were shut, but even then, he looked annoyed, on the breaking edge of a scowl. 

Callista could not help but run her fingers through the chestnut coloured strands of Beron’s hair, a gesture she had done countless times over the centuries they had been married. It was soft as silk against her skin, nearly gold, she knew, when he sat in the sun. 

She brooded on this trial, this ancient blood feud year by year. At last, her hour came.

Callista felt the rage build within her like a wave, waiting for the right moment to crash against the shore. The knife in her hand was weightless, silver and ancient. She wondered if it hungered for blood like she did. 

Lioness. 

The thought filled her with strength, and was all the push she needed to strike. Callista reared on her hind legs, the instinct primal and sharp. Her claws were out, her fangs bared, the flickering fire her only witness. 

The Lady of Autumn did not allow herself a moment’s worth of doubt as she dragged the dagger’s sharpened blade across her husband’s throat. 

[angelsdean]

In the end, the descent into Hell is easy. 

The stairway to Heaven had crumbled. The pearly gates were closed. Sam’s fervent prayers fell on absent ears. 

He was fresh out of cosmic beings to leverage for favors. Well, except…. 

It was strange how easy it had become to traverse the realms of the afterlife. Before, a ticket to Hell would cost you your soul, or a nasty encounter with a Hellhound. Now, a simple spell would do. Day trip to Hell, who would’ve thought? 

Down, down, down he goes into the muggy depths of the Inferno. Into the first chamber. Then advancing through long, winding corridors. He encounters no one. Strange. Finally, he arrives at the heavy doors to the throne room. They open before him, a chest cavity expanding, and there in the center sits Rowena in red, the bloody heart of it all. 

“Samuel.” Her shrewd eyes rake over him. She doesn’t look at all surprised to see him. 

“I take it you were expecting me.” 

“I sensed you the moment you stepped through the portal. Being non-corporeal gives one a certain omniscience. Little happens within these walls that I don’ know about, my dear.” 

Sam internally shudders at the word omniscient, thinking of Chuck and the maddening uncertainty he brewed in them when he claimed such powers. 

“What brings you here?”

The question draws Sam back to the present. Right. Rowena may be able to see all within her tiny kingdom of Hell, she's in the dark about all that has transpired on Earth since Sam’s last visit. The truth of it, the words he must say next, stick in his throat. He can’t—He hasn’t said any of this out loud. Hasn’t spoken to anyone in the weeks since everything happened. These were the facts: 

They defeated Chuck. 

Jack then vanished. 

And then Sam had to burn Dean. 

And before any of that, Cas had sacrificed himself in a move that Sam still did not fully understand. Dean had been sparse on the details. And now he couldn’t ask him at all. Because Dean was—He—

“Dean died.” 

His voice warbles around the words. They don’t sit right in his mouth. He shouldn’t be saying them. 

“Oh, Samuel.” Rowena appears before him in a blink, a hand pressing to his cheek. 

“They’re all—they’re gone. Dean. Cas. Jack.” Tears spring forth. He hasn’t cried either. He hasn’t let himself. But now, with Rowena opening her arms to him, he sinks down, down, down till they are both on the stone floor, Sam cradled in Rowena’s embrace as he sobs. “They’re dead and I have no one left. Nothing. They’re just all gone!” 

Fingers comb through Sam’s hair in a soothing shush. “There, there. Shh. I’ve got you.” Then, more forcefully, tipping his chin up to lock eyes, “I’ve got you.”

Samwena ficlet be upon thee! inspired by ruminations on this post

[wrathofrats]

Mold me to another form, Press me till I'm raw and sore

Read here on on Ao3!

Happy mountain March have the virgin mountain fic I’ve been teasing for a second. @everybodyshusband COME GET UR FOOD BB

3.5k of pebble and ivy torturing mountain because he’s new and flustered and doesn’t know what he wants and the opportunity that presents itself is too good.

Warnings for voyerism/exhibitionism, some degrading, slight slight manipulation if you squint, little bit of pain but blink and you’ll miss it.

“Looks like we have an audience honey suckle”

Mountain can barely open his mouth to try and stammer out an apology before pebble keeps speaking. His hand moves faster where it’s still gripping ivy, forcing him further into the wood beneath him as he cries out.

“Come on Ivy, cum for him”

Or mountains a cute new summon and pebble and ivy can’t help but sexually frustrate him to no end.

It really wasn't mountains faults.

Pebble had told him to meet him in the greenhouse for a lesson. Enriching the soil or harvesting or something, he didn’t catch it. A quick note in between staring at Ivy who was wrapped around him in the common room. Honestly he barely mumbled out the time before Ivy was pulling his attention away once again.

He enjoys watching them, a mixture of jealousy and tantalization at seeing the two be so close and physical all the time. They brought a sense of loving comfort and a more sensual edge to them, at least to mountain, who was often at their heels learning his way around the abbey.

Mountain walks out into the garden to meet them, seeing no trace of the two. His eyes widened at the more than familiar sounds coming from the back corner where the greenhouse stood. Hushed whispers and moans that were unmistakable even to the new ghoul. The sounds grew louder as he walked closer, mountains feet moving completely on their own accord as if some weird part of his brain actually wanted to get a glimpse of them.

The door opens slowly, mountain internally cursing the old thing for being so rusted that he can barely get it unlatched without it telling on him. His hands shake as they grip the handle, the guilt and shame of trying to watch them making his breath hitch, but he can’t force himself to stop. The greenery covers him as he ducks to peek around the corner.

Pebble has Ivy bent over and pinned against a workbench. One claw digging deep into his hips and the other wrapped around the base of his cock.

“dont you fucking dare cum, be good and take it”

“pebble please I need it I-“

Mountains face flushes deep crimson at the sight of them. The waning sunlight reflects off of the tears slipping down ivy's face and the sound of him whimpering against the wood has mountain breathing heavily.

But pebble? The way pebble treats Ivy like he’s something to use makes mountain feel indescribable. He almost chokes when he hears how pebble speaks to him, at how pebble rakes his nails down his skin and smiles when ivy cries out in pain. It feels weird and his pants are too tight and he shouldn’t be watching this. He's dirty, perverted but it’s impossible to tear his eyes away from them.

A quiet, high pitched whine is ripped from his throat as he adjusts in the uncomfortable position he had settled in, hard and too worked up to think straight.

Suddenly pebbles head turns towards mountain.

“Looks like we have an audience honey suckle”

Mountain can barely open his mouth to try and stammer out an apology before pebble keeps speaking. His hand moves faster where it’s still gripping ivy, forcing him further into the wood beneath him as he cries out.

“Come on Ivy, cum for him” pebble yanks ivys head to the side by his hair to look at mountain. Pebbles hands are quick on Ivy’s cock and before he knows it ivys spilling all over pebbles fist with mountains name on his tongue.

It’s overwhelming, and mountains head clouds as he once again tries to apologize but pebble is too quick for him to react properly. Any thoughts being overpowered by the situation he’s found himself in. Guilt and arousal combined to subdue the regret in his throat almost completely.

Pebble gestures him over without a word, motioning for him to kneel on the grass in front of him. A hand brushes his lips before he realizes what pebble is telling him to do. He doesn’t feel in control of himself as his lips part, staring into pebbles eyes like he’s being controlled and pebble just slips his fingers into his mouth, wiping ivys release onto his tongue before placing his hand under his chin to close it.

“Good boy”

Through blurry vision mountain watches pebble hastily redress himself and ivy, hoisting him back onto shaky legs and giving him a once over accompanied by a sweet kiss. Pebbles attention turns back to mountain, also offering him a hand up and a pat on the cheek before walking out.

It seems like a game to pebble, a joke of some sorts that only really he is in on. The wicked smile as he caught mountain, then looking at him innocently like he hadn’t just made him lick someone else’s cum off his fingers. Mountain doesn’t know what to think.

A haze takes over him whenever he bumps into the two, the memory of the greenhouse incident being the only thing he can think about when he sees pebbles face. Innocent exchanges having mountain flustered and walking off to cool himself down even though nothing has happened.

The interactions don’t stay innocent however.

Mountain chalks it up to a wrong place, wrong time situation instead of anything more sinister. He can’t be blamed for freezing as he notices the lewd wet sounds coming from the living room. Especially since pebble just can’t keep his mouth shut.

Pebble sits on the couch with ivy nestled between his legs. Fingers tangled in his soft brown hair guiding his mouth up and down on his cock.

“What do you think mountain would think if he saw me use you like this sweet pea?” Pebble coos, a mocking smile to his voice that has Ivy whining, muffled and high in his throat. Mountain doesn’t know what to do with himself besides stand still and watch trying to hide himself behind the stair railing.

“Would he just think you’re a dumb whore? Maybe he’d want his own turn with you?” Ivys cheeks heat up more than they already had just thinking about it. Another soft, pathetic sound escapes his throat as pebble pulls hard on his hair, taking him off of his cock. Mountain can’t tear his eyes away, can’t retreat back up the stairs as he knows he should. He feels gross, like he shouldn’t be catching them, shouldn’t be thinking about them like this.

“Oh I know baby, maybe we can ask him” pebble smiles, talking just a bit too loud to be a coincidence.

It’s on purpose. Pebble is a fucking tease.

Every incident is set up just so mountain can catch them. Fucking ivy in plain sight where he knows mountain will be and honestly it’s just to see how much he can get away with. How far he can take his shenanigans before he breaks the innocent ghoul and forces him to use his words to tell them what he wants.

Ivy can’t act innocent either, absolutely involved in the game along with pebble. He plays himself up just to see mountains reaction. Moans when pebble mentions him knowing damn well he’s just around the corner. A bit of pity stays in the back of his mind, but the knowledge that mountain wants them so badly he barely knows what to do with himself is more than enticing to him. He craves the attention he gets from it, craves the fact that someone else needs him. Ivy especially loves how possessive pebble gets at knowing this too, that he needs to show Ivy off like some sort of trophy. So he continues to play along, presenting himself as a good little toy.

Mountain struggles. Hes jumpy, cautious when entering rooms like he might just walk right in on something he’s not meant to. Slow to come around corners and down the stairs, always listening a bit too intently. Pebble and ivy honestly find it cute how careful he appears to be, considering they know how much he likes stumbling upon them.

It doesn’t take much for mountain to break.

Walking in on them almost daily for a week has him about to fall to his knees and beg in front of pebble's door. Not even knowing what he’s asking for, just knowing he wants.

The last straw is walking in on the two again in the living room.

Once again slowly creeping down the stairs, listening intently for any signs he should instead abandon the idea and leave. He doesn’t hear it at first, assuming he’s safe until he’s too far into the room to back out.

Ivy sits on the couch with pebble settled between his legs this time. Both of his hands cover his face but mountain can tell how flushed he is. His breathing is ragged, heavy, as if he’s desperately trying to calm himself down and the smile on pebbles face tells mountain all he needs to know.

Something about Ivy’s cock twitching and leaking as pebble kisses at the head absolutely destroys him. Saliva pools in mountains mouth, and he can’t help but straight up gawk at the situation in front of him.

Hes been caught, he knows he has, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Pebble makes eye contact with him from the floor as he kitten licks ivys tip, curiously eyeing mountain as he lets a line of drool fall from his lips and down the shaft. It feels more like a command than just making him watch, the way his eyes shift as if he is beckoning mountain over to him.

He goes anyways, even if he isn’t sure. They’ve been teasing him for so long he can’t bring himself to believe it’s not on purpose anymore. The upwards curve of pebbles lips confirm his thoughts as he nods downward, motioning mountain to kneel beside him.

“Come on, you know what to do big guy”

Mountain looks back at him with something that can only be described as panic. He looks like a deer in head lights with his fingers digging into his knees

“I- I wouldn’t wanna intrude” he attempts to stammer out, looking for any excuse that doesn’t make him sound entirely incompetent.

“You aren’t, look at the poor thing, he’s been wanting your mouth for a while big guy” pebble smiles, with the tiniest bit of giddy to his voice knowing mountain has no clue what he’s doing. Practically taunting him.

Ivy can’t even look down at the two. He continues to hide his face with his hands, red and teary eyed and with how hard and angry his leaking cock looks, mountain can’t imagine how long pebbles been edging him, just waiting for him to show up.

“Just think you’d be better at it” mountain whispers

“Oh do you? Never done this before maple leaf?”

“No i-“ mountain starts, the blatant lie dying in his throat.

“Did you hear that sweet pea, you get to be mountains first” pebble smiles, claws gripping ivys thighs to get his attention. “Aren’t you honored to be able to be the first to fuck his sweet mouth?”

Ivy barely responds with something akin to whimper as pebble scratches him harder, his cock twitching once again at the pain.

“Just watch”

Pebble grips ivy at his base, giving him a good slow lick from root to tip before taking the head in his mouth. Ivy can’t help but give a pained whine when pebble pulls off once again with a little pop, lips pink and a little swollen from teasing Ivy for who knows how long.

There’s a tug at mountains shirt, pebble pulling him to be between ivys legs instead.

“Show me what you learned, cmon”

It’s so clumsy, mountain loosely grips Ivy in fist as if he’s scared to hurt him. He takes a second to look up, before thumbing over his tip as he watches more pre drip down the head, running down his shaft. He feels mesmerized, watching in awe while Ivy reacts to his every touch.

Mountain chases it with his tongue, licks a thick stripe up ivys shaft to catch it and ivy can’t help but almost buck into his mouth at the sensation.

“Don’t be greedy” pebble snaps at the earth ghoul above them “I’ve taught you better manners than that”

Ivy somehow goes more red than he was, mumbling out an apology behind his hands.

Mountain doesn’t even process most of the conversation, much too caught up in ivys taste. Something between tree sap and honey with his own musk mixed in. He can feel the pulse in his dick, the way it throbs in his hand and the entire situation in front of him is the only thing mountain can really focus on.

Pebble places a loving hand in his hair to attempt to coax him back to earth. His thumb strokes his scalp while mountain just stares at Ivy’s dick. Cleaning him delicately with his tongue as if he’s savoring the taste. Pebble pushes down on his head slightly to find it's much too easy to guide mountains mouth down, using barely any force to coax Ivy’s cock down his throat.

“Just keep those pretty lips open, relax”

Mountain gags a little, making pebble ease the pressure on his scalp off.

“Just breathe through your nose, relax, you’re ok” pebble tells him, voice softer than mountains ever heard it and honestly the kindness makes his vision blur. A complete whiplash to the usual harsher, more sarcastic tone he has.

Ivy isn’t very big, a decent couple inches, not very thick around but mountain struggles anyways. He tries hard, really gives it his best, letting pebble pull him up and down. His eyes water as he tries to force himself to relax. It feels weird, not bad, but it’s different. There comes a point where he’s practically bobbing on his own, pebble barely using any pressure anymore and mountain truly seems in a trance, almost cock drunk just off of only sucking on ivy for a couple minutes.

Pebbles other hand holds Ivy tightly at his base to prevent him from cumming embarrassingly early. Being edged for god knows how long combined with the sight of pebble practically teaching mountain how to use him, it’s just too much for ivy, and pebble absolutely knows that.

It’s a weird power trip for mountain to watch Ivy squirm above him, knowing he’s completely out of his mind with need just from his mouth. The sight of him desperate and practically ruined only fueling mountain to keep going as long as pebble lets him. Ivy’s hips buck as his legs shake, no doubt getting too close for pebble to be able to stop him anymore.

Pebble pulls mountain off just as Ivy is about to tip over the edge, quickly hooking a finger into his mouth to force it open. The other hand strokes Ivy, working him through his orgasm as he releases onto mountains face. He hungrily laps at what little bit got onto his lips and tongue. A dazed, static feeling settles into his brain and he can’t bring himself to close his mouth again. Hot and flushed, panting as ivys cum still sits warm on his skin. Mountain looks completely ruined, and pebble can’t help but feel proud of the two, if not jealous.

The sight of mountain completely ruined after just using his mouth is more than pebble thinks he can take. Honestly he can’t help himself. Thinking of the sounds he made with Ivy’s dick in his mouth, the look of submission in his eyes while pebble manhandled him into doing what he wanted, it’s too much for him to not need to get his hands on mountain himself.

He finds him in the greenhouse a couple days later. Leaned forward against the workbench mixing soils. There’s a tense smile as pebble walks in, mountain clearly being wary of the situation but knows what’s probably about to transpire anyways. He turns and backs up without being made to, giving easy access for pebble to drop to his knees in front of him.

There’s a struggle with mountains belt, pebbles shaky hands clumsily undoing the metal, an uncharacteristic nervousness about him as he works. He fumbles with the zipper, tugging at his jeans and boxers until he can pull mountain out fully.

Pebbles mouth waters. He almost moans when he finally sees mountains cock in front of him. He’s much bigger than he imagined, his hand barely wraps around the base and pebble curses under his breath. Mountain can’t help but feel a pang of pride at the way pebble acts so flustered at seeing his size.

His tongue darts out to kitten lick at the head, making mountain lean back to grip the workbench and push his hips forward slightly in hopes pebble will just swallow him down instead of playing his usual games.

A line of spit falls from pebbles lips and runs down his shaft. He makes a display of himself, mouth wide as he continues to tease, looking up at mountain through his eyelashes. He swirls his tongue around the head, before licking a fat line from his base, catching the small amount of pre that’s already started to form. He continues to tease until mountain is gripping the bench behind him so hard he’s sure there will be nail indents in the wood when he’s finished, cock angry and red and borderline painfully hard.

Swallowing him down is much more difficult than he thought, jaw aching at the size but pebble craves to feel him down his throat, stretching his mouth wide and making him gag. Mountain can barely bring himself to look down at the ghoul below him. It’s the first time he’s realized how much smaller pebble is than him, watching that hot, tight little mouth wrap around him and pebble can barely fit half of his cock down his throat before he’s gagging.

It’s hard for pebble not to feel smug. Getting him worked up and desperate, being the first to have his mouth on him. The sore throat the next day will only be a trophy for that testimony, a badge of honor. He wants to stay there, tease him for hours until mountain has tears in those big brown eyes but he just needs to feel him cum down his throat. Hes quick, sloppy, doesn’t want to take his time anymore, just wants to hear what mountain sounds like when he comes apart. Saliva runs down his chin as mountains hips move on their own, fucking up into pebbles mouth and in any other situation he’d chastise him but he can’t bring himself to care. It's easier than he thought, mountain attempting to choke out a warning only a couple minutes in but there’s barely an intelligible word before he’s shooting down pebbles throat.

Pebble pulls off with a pop, muttering a couple praises before smiling and leaving as if nothing happened.

He needs to tell Ivy, craves to be able to see the look on his face when describes how big he is, what he sounds like, what he tastes like, practically bragging about being able to get him like that.

He waits until he’s got Ivy pressed against the mattress, hands on his hips with his lips close to his ear

“Fucking massive, he would probably just split you in two if I ever met him get his hands on you honey suckle” pebble whispers, thrusting hard and fast while Ivy chokes on his own moans at what pebbles telling him.

“Probably would break my pretty toy, don’t know if I’d be able to let him have you doll”

Pebble can feel Ivy go tight around him, eyes crossing at the idea as pebble fucks him. The mixture of the way pebble rails him into the bed and the idea of mountain being so big he could break him, has ivy drooling, brain short circuiting before he’s almost begging for it. He simply needs to witness it for himself.

“Barely could get my hand around him, only god half of him in my mouth before I started gagging” pebble chuckles, “god should’ve heard him when he came down my throat, would’ve recorded it if I want so selfish”

Ivy tries not to moan, focuses on not saying mountains name and pebble can tell he’s struggling to control himself

“Cmon honeysuckle, know you want to say his name, cry out for him doll and maybe I’ll let him have you” he taunts

Ivy continues to stay silent besides the small noises forced from him as pebble uses him.

“Tell me what you want baby, go on”

Ivy fights himself to say it because he can’t imagine being allowed to be desperate for someone else let alone cry out their name while pebble has his cock in him. A hand grips his hair, pulling his head back.

“Say it”

“Fuck- need mountain to break me, need him to use me and fuck me open, need him to fucking split me in two pebble please-“

The embarrassment in ivys voice is reward enough for pebble, laughing at how shaky he is before releasing the grip on his scalp.

“Gonna cum for him? Make a mess thinking about how he would fucking ruin you?”

[fractiousmink]

141 + “training” (NSFW)(femreader)

(Ref objection insertion, fisting, anal, choking, and dubcon)

Price-pussy

Rough fingers running along your pussy lips. Fingering you forever before he ever fucks you. And when you’re loose and happy and wet he returns with callused fingers and rough knuckles pushing and testing against your taught hole. He wants you to take whatever he offers, much like Ghost. Loves to see you stretched around toys, bottles, his fist. “There’s a good doll, taking it all. How’s that stretch love?”

Gaz-anal

I don’t know who first decided Gaz is an ass man but they were so right. Master of the low and slow strategy. Starts with just his thumb, rubbing smooth circles when he’s fucking you from behind. Always sneaks a finger down when he’s eating you out. Soon you’re not able to come without something in your ass, his fingers or a pretty plug he bought you. It’s only a matter of time before he’s fucking your ass almost daily. Loves to run his fingers along your poor neglected cunt, leaking a steady steam down onto his shaft. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ghost-throat

It’s all about control for Ghost. And what better way to control you is from your throat. Hand around the back of your neck, the other fisted in your hair. Tight, slow but firm thrusts past the gag reflex he broke with his fingers and a dildo gag. It’s his favorite way to have you. On your knees, on your back with your head off the bed, under his desk. Sloppy and drooly, he knows your cunt is soaked and puffy, desperate. He loves to come down your throat, then make you rub your own clit while he stuffs thick fingers down your throat. Nothing gets him hard faster than offering up his fingers to your mouth and watching your lips open and pretty tongue roll out without a single thought. Likes to do it in public, show off how well trained he has you.

Soap-all/none

Let’s be honest with ourselves, Soap does not have the patience of the others. And he’s an entitled little shit. He’s using what he wants, when he wants, how he wants until “your needy little holes learn who they belong to, hen.”