#inner thigh rash

[girlscience]

👉😠👈 -> ☄️💥🔥

me using psychic powers to blow up always brand period products

[lesboytistic]

OW

[hoshigray]

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | nanami kento

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader - nipple play - hair pulling - doggy style + deep impact positions - restricted movements (using his tie on your hands) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, love, sweetpea) - clitoral play - orgasm denial.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Oops, I did it again. Nanami being rough with his hands on your body. That's it, that's the tweet. Smthn quick thanks to MAPPA serving good food to the nanami fanatics on this week's ep

We all know Nanami Kento would treat his partner with the utmost care. There is no man you can put your entire faith in when it comes to your body than him. He's always perfect with you. Checking up on you to see if you're okay, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down from a haze, wiping tears on your face whenever he makes you feel so goddamn good. And let's not forget the kiss on the forehead he places so gently as he fucks you lovingly.

In terms of lovemaking and treating your body right, Nanami is undeniably the perfect candidate…

…However, there will occasionally be those moments when you’d want him to be just a tad rough with you. Nothing wrong with the soft, cutesy shit. No, no, you love it!  But let’s face it; when you have a man who looks so deliciously alluring to the eye, with his broad shoulders and strong forearms that peek from his dress shirt, you can’t blame your mind for indulging with wilder thoughts. Especially when you express said thoughts to him.

And he listens to your request with his absolute attention. He’ll ask for confirmation before he does anything rash. And when you give him the green flag, your fate is sealed for the rest of the night. 

“—Ggaahhh!! Ahaahnn!! Ken–Kentooo, you���re going—OhmyGod, OhmyGoood—“

“Shhh, don’t squirm too much, love.” He’ll whisper to your ear so hotly you nearly fall to your knees had it not been for his leg between yours, essentially making you ride his sturdy thigh. Your back pressed up against his abdomen while his hands roamed your body. One hand in your shirt, slipping your bra up to release your breast from the material, and for his hands to knead and play with your mounds. The other stuffed down your shorts and passed your panties, his fingers intimately close to your hot, wet folds. And you jerk when his ring finger presses down on your clit.

“Ahooo! Kento, stop, stooop!!” You don’t want him to stop — he knows you don’t want him to stop. “I’m gonna cum, it’s gonna happen—Nnnnmm!!!” He tweezes your nipple roughly, evoking an erotic shriek. 

“You better come on me,” he demands you. Oh, how he sounds so hot when he does that. “Make my hand filthy like you, baby.”

But that’s only the beginning. Wait until you two move into the bedroom with his pelvis rutting onto the cusp of your ass. Face down to the pillow and ass up for Nanami to station you, and his hand in your hair, lightly tugging it. Sweat shields your body and glistens from the bedroom lights, your hands tied behind your back by his necktie. You’ve left with nothing to stand your ground, forced to take in his cock that churns your inner walls. And, God, it feels so fucking good. 

“How’re you feeling there, angel?” Nanami, his pants and tie discarded with his shirt no longer buttoned up. The fingers in your hair massage your scalp. “Hmm? Are you feeling good?”

“…Uhhaaa—Ohohhh!” There’s no way you could give him a proper response in a position like this. Your head is so far gone that all you can think about is the commotion between your legs. The deeper he grinds his cock into your chasm, the deeper you sink into your blissful fog. Your hips begin to move involuntarily at this point; it just feels too exhilarating to stop! 

However, attending to your bliss has its faults, especially when you’re not paying attention to the man making you feel this way. Because Nanami pulls your hair, forcing your face upright from the pillows. You cry at the sudden yank, exposing the drool and tears that trickle down your pretty face.

“You know better than that, Y/n.” His serious voice is on, your cunt twitches around his length. “I need your words to let me know how good you’re feeling.”

“Ahck—Mmmm…S’ too good, Kentooo. Y’ make me feel so good. So fucking���Ahannn…good….” did you mean for your words to slur? Who cares. Just don’t stop; please keep it going. Please, please, please—

Nanami chuckles at your words and lets your face fall back to the pillow. “Good.”

But don’t think the fun stops there. Nope. It just keeps getting better. 

With your hands still tied, you now lie on your back to the comforter while he pistons his cock into you, one of your legs now on his shoulder to get a better angle to hit your sweet spots accurately. The wails you let out are uncontainable — there’s no point in stopping them from flying out your mouth. Your bottom lip is puffy from how much you’ve bitten it this entire time, and more tears fall to your neck.

Nanami looks at your expressions intently, mocha eyes never leaving your gorgeous face. It’s here that he finally withdraws his shirt and fucks you nude, sharing this intimate heat and passion with you. And, lord, he looks so fucking good right now. His tidy golden hair now with strands sticking to his forehead, sweat shared between your naked bodies, and his beautiful brown orbs taking you in like you’re the greatest treasure in the world. 

“Ohhfuck, ohhhfuuckin—Ohhh!!!” Oh, God. With the way the tip of his cock precisely hits and scrapes your tender spots, you can feel your climax coming to get you. “Kento, Ken–Nnmphh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—“

And then it vanishes. It didn’t come. Why? Because Nanami immediately removes his length from your slick-coated slit, the electrifying tingles in your body subside in seconds. Of course, you whine to him with doe, tearful eyes. So cruel. He’s so just cruel, but you love it.

“Mmmm, sorry, sweetpea.” You know he’s not sorry. The tiny mischievous glint in his eyes is telling. “Let me hear you beg for it first, the I’ll give my baby what they want.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 — dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[strcwbrryklss]

୨୧﹕ mustang .ᐟ part one

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , slight smut ( makeout , undressing ) , enemies to lovers , getting caught. a/n ; this is based off of the aesthetic and time period of the ‘monsters’ show, but it is NOT based off of the menendez brothers. it is also based on ‘challengers’, specifically the tennis scenes. nicholas is a rich kid in the 1980s in this fic. summary ; after a competitive tennis match between y/n and nicholas, they decide to let their anger out in another way.

A TIE BREAKER is the last thing y/n needed for this match, and she could tell nicholas was furious too, swaying from side to side with his eyebrows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead slowly after a long game. it didn’t help that it was in the middle of a heatwave, and y/n’s legs had rubbed together so much that a chafing rash had began to form on her inner thighs. with every movement there was a burning sensation, but at this point she didn’t care — she wanted to make a point to nicholas, that she was better than him. she wanted to humble this rich boy so much, that looking at her in public would anger him.

so, pushing through the pain, y/n got into position and held the tennis ball against her racket, before looking nicholas in the eyes, unafraid of his intense gaze. and without a second thought, she threw the ball up into the air and hit it towards him.

with every grunt and hit of the ball from nicholas, y/n’s heartbeat raced. his muscles glistened in the sunlight as sweat drenched them. it was attractive, sure, but he wasn’t attractive. y/n could never imagine being attracted to him. the spoiled momma’s boy? no fucking way. it only fuelled her need to succeed, to show him who’s boss. so, as soon as she saw the chance, y/n hit the ball as hard as she could to the other side of the net, and without fail the ball bounced just before the baseline before bouncing once again out of the court.

nicholas just watched as he lost — he knew it would’ve been impossible to save himself from that.

as y/n and half of the audience cheered, nick agitatedly rubbed his temples with his left hand, trying to compose himself. this was until he shouted a loud “FUCK!” as he threw his racket on the ground.

y/n laughed at his outburst as they both walked up to the net, “is someone mad?”.

nicholas didn’t answer, putting his hand out for a short handshake. but, instead of letting go, he grabbed y/n’s hand tighter and pulled her in slightly, his eyes locked on hers. nick muttered under his breath, loud enough for only her to hear, “you’re fucking dead to me”, before pushing her hand away and walking off.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. for some reason she felt hurt? it’s not that she liked him, or wanted him to like her. but that was just… mean.

after packing her things and thanking people for congratulating her, y/n began to leave the small stadium with her tennis bag slung over her shoulder. she walked into the parking lot, making her way towards her car and shoving her bag into the trunk before spotting another car — and she knew exactly who’s it was. the red 1965 ford mustang parked next to the lamppost, two rows from her car was obviously nicholas’.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows. wondering why he was still here, she decided to walk towards the car.

it seemed like nicholas didn’t realise she was walking up to his driver’s side window since he was looking down, eyes closed as he rubbed his temples in annoyance. the girl stood there for a while, pondering on how to get his attention before clearing her throat.

nicholas flinched before looking up at the girl who just beat him, her face in an awkward expression, “so..”

“no” he cut her off immediately, “fuck off”

y/n was taken aback by his rude remark before responding, “okay, no. stop acting like a fucking child”

“being annoyed about losing is acting like a child?” nick scoffed, opening his car door.

the girl moved to the side so he could get out, her arms folding as she leaned against the expensive car, “yeah, it is”

after he got out of the car, he crossed his arms, mimicking her. she had to look up to him now, as he towered over her with an annoyed smirk on his face, “it’s not my fault you’re a bitch”

“it’s not my fault you’re a sore loser” she retaliates, causing him to take a few small steps closer to her. y/n had to look even further up at him, actually seeing his face now as he blocked the sun with his head. the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat filled her lungs, which was strangely attractive to her.

nicholas spoke in a much softer, yet condescending tone than before, “sore loser, huh?”

“sore.” y/n got in his face, “loser.”

the two sat in the tension for a minute, just inches away from each other’s faces. nicholas inhaled her exhale, and she did the same with him. their eyebrows remained furrowed as they looked into each other’s eyes, filled with hate. you couldn’t tell if he was about to punch her, or kiss her.

that was until the tension broke as they both rushed to smack their lips together in a sloppy yet passionate kiss. nicholas wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, roughly grasping her, as she moved her hands to his neck — one hand ran through his hair as the other dug her nails into his neck, causing him to let out a grunt, kissing her even rougher.

nicholas removed one of his hands from her body, reaching behind her for the door handle and opening the car door. they both swiftly got into the backseat of the car and slammed the door shut behind them, never breaking the kiss.

he then started placing sloppy kisses along her cheek and down her neck, letting y/n catch her breath as she reached for his biceps. she grabbed his muscles, getting flashbacks from when she observed them on the court.

abruptly, nick moved his hands from her waist to her thighs and pulled her in closer, placing himself in between her legs, causing y/n to let out a gasp. nicholas looked up at her, giving a playful smile which she returned before sharing another rough passionate kiss.

as he moved his hand up her tennis skirt, he lightly grazed his fingertips along her upper thighs. y/n’s body shivered at his touch before a sudden, loud knock on the window interrupted them both.

ah shit.

part i | part ii

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 2

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Doflamingo is a menace

——— 

Shanks: 

Swears it’s a hangover cure, and this man is hungover every single morning. He’ll wake up with a pounding headache, and before he’s even opened his eyes, he’s reaching for you. He’ll paw at you like a lazy animal until you remove your panties for him and he can fall face first into your delicious cunt. He’s trained your cunt like Pavlov’s dog, too, so that you wake up wet in the morning, your clit throbbing like an alarm clock. 

��Always ready for me,” he’ll mumble in his raspy morning voice. “Nice and wet. That's my girl.” 

You actually get a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble constantly rubbing against your sensitive skin, and you have to sheepishly approach Hongo for some sort of cream. Hongo has been on the Red Force long enough that he’s not phased, though you are so embarrassed you try to ban Shanks from going down on you for a while (spoiler alert: it doesn’t work). 

“I’d rather lose my arm than skip breakfast.” 

He’ll spend most of his time between your legs licking with broad strokes of his tongue, only pointing it and attacking your clit when you’re already on the brink of orgasm. He’ll finger you as you cum and won’t stop until you’re a crying mess, begging him to stop. Of course, he’ll only stop for as long as it takes him to get his cock out and push it in. 

Beckman: 

"Come here, babygirl. That's it."

Beckman drinks your juices like a nightcap. He’ll put you on his desk, the moonlight filtering in through the window and a lamp flickering in the corner, and unzip his pants to give his massive erection some breathing room before turning his attention to his babygirl. He likes to start slow, taking his sweet time with your nipples and leaving a trail of hickies around them, before finally burying his face between your shaking legs.  

“Give daddy a taste.” 

He’s nice and sweet about it, but don’t think he won’t hold you down if you start to squirm around too much. He goes down on you like you need it, not like you want it; he goes down on you like it’s for your own good. It’s for his own good, too, that thing that takes the edge off and helps him wind down after a stressful day. He wants your legs wrapped around his head and your hands tangled in his long hair. 

Oh, and he wants you to tell him that he owns you. Nobody else is allowed to taste your pussy; it's all his, and you'd better chant that while he draws your orgasm out of you.

Mihawk:

A proponent of fine dining. 

Will eat you out on the table, which kind of makes you feel like he’s doing it in public because his dining room is so large and there are massive windows with no curtains covering them; his insistence on you removing every article of clothing, not just your panties, and sitting on the table, feet on the edge, holding your legs as far apart as they’ll go only makes you feel more exposed. All the while, he remains entirely clothed. 

He’ll scold you if you wrap your legs around him. It’s his meal and he’s going to enjoy it precisely the way he wants, and the way he wants is uninhibited. He drags it out, too, edging you multiple times and lecturing you about delayed gratification if you complain. When he does finally allow you to cum, he tortures your clit for a moment after to be certain he saw you through your entire orgasm.  

Other times, he’ll be sitting in his chair and see you walk by and say, “y/n, come here.” He’ll have you strip down before laying you on the coffee table and working an orgasm or two out of you. Enjoys it so much that at times when he’s training or preparing for something, he’ll ban himself from indulging in your pussy because he needs to be focused. 

Crocodile:

Sir Crocodile has a big cock, but he normally stretches you with his fingers. Oral sex isn’t foreplay to him, it’s a separate thing entirely. He normally engages in it very late at night or very early in the morning when he’s exhausted and you’re half asleep. He’ll run his hand down your body, stopping briefly to massage your breasts, before pulling your legs apart. 

“Wake up,” he might grumble in your ear. Or he might not, instead waking you up with a few kisses to your clit.  

He probably kisses your pussy more than he kisses your mouth. He’ll make out with your leaky opening, swapping your juices for his saliva, part of him wishing he still had his other hand so he had more fingers to torture you with. But he’ll settle for one, going back and forth between your nipples and squeezing them until you cry out, then squeezing them some more.  

He doesn’t talk to you while he does it, a far cry from how he mocks and argues with you during penetrative sex. When he’s in an especially bad mood, he doesn’t take his hook off, and you wake up with it pushing into the soft flesh of your thigh, a silent warning not to close your legs on him. And when he’s finished, he’ll push you back to your side of the bed without a word. 

Doflamingo: 

Part of being his toy means being tormented with his tongue. He has a fucking giraffe tongue, and he puts it to good use, often laying back in bed and making you ride it like it’s his cock, moving it out of the way and then making fun of you when you struggle. He makes you talk to him the entire time, and when you’re not sitting on his face, you have to make eye contact with him. 

He’ll talk to you, too, and is so fucking patronizing. 

“Use your words, little one. Come on, you can do it. Don’t tell me it’s too much for you.” 

Uses a lot of different toys while he’s going down on you, typically a butt plug and nipple clamps. Has most definitely used a transponder snail to take pictures of your wet pussy, flush and swollen after he spent an entire afternoon tonguing it; the clicking sound of the snail camera was so humiliating but it made your pussy throb so much harder. 

One of his favorite things in the world is tying you up with his strings and spitting on your cunt. He has, on a handful of occasions, tied you up and allowed his subordinates to lick your pussy, but never lets them taste your cum; right when you’re on the edge, he’ll take over and make them watch while he takes your orgasm all for himself, usually with his cock. 

Corazon: 

Eating your pussy is his stress relief. The number of times you burned dinner because you were cooking and he came home in the middle and bent you over the counter for an appetizer is unreal. He always apologizes, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop doing it; he can’t stop doing it. And you’d be cruel to make him considering you can feel the tension leave his body as soon as his tongue runs through your folds. 

“I needed this so bad. Thank you so much.” 

When he’s not bending you over a counter, he wants you riding his face, and none of that hovering shit, either. He’ll wrap his arms around your thighs and hold you flush against his face, moaning as he laps at your folds.

“I can tell you need it, too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” 

He’s so sweet about it, it’s unreal. Smiles the entire time, places so many sweet kisses on your clit and opening. A big fan of the two finger and tongue combo. Can work an orgasm out of you in record time. Never fucks you without making you cum at least once on his tongue (he’s 9’7 and his cock is proportional). 

Smoker: 

Smoker almost always ends up eating his cum out of you. He’s gone for weeks, even months at a time, and when he walks through that door, you’re dropping your panties or he’s ending it all. He has so much pent up energy he absolutely has to fuck you, but that doesn’t change the fact that what he’s been jerking off to every night is the thought of tasting you. 

“Don’t think for a second we’re finished yet.” 

He’ll take breaks to kiss you on the mouth, making you taste yourself. And then he’ll work his way back down your body, leaving hickies on your neck and biting your nipples before he’s back between your legs again, pushing his tongue into your hole to get every last drop of both of your juices out, his thumb seeing to your aching clit. 

You won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just fuck you against the wall or on the counter and then drag you onto the floor to lick your cunt. He’s attempted to get you to the sofa before, but you just end up pushed against it while still on the floor, or else bent over the arm or sitting on the edge while he kneels between your legs. 

Also, the two of you don’t shower together often, but for some reason, the times you do shower together, he always ends up with his face between your legs. You’ve wasted so much water because he can’t keep his damn tongue to himself. And when he’s finished, he always places a few sweet kisses at your entrance as if to reward you for behaving. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[allurilove]

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

[figthoughts]

jensen with a beard is my equivalent of greek god cause omg he looks so good with it,the dean look is fucking hot too but the beard?has me kicking my feet

also stubble dean goooood 🦅🦅🦅🦅👹👹👹

anon i am CRYINF you are so right !!!!!! lemme share my thoughts on this because oh my god

all i think about when i see S9 dean is how good it’d feel to have his face between your thighs, carelessly letting his stubble scratch at your skin as he devours you, too into it to realise until he pulls back and sees the pink rash adorning your inner thighs. he’d defs apologise profusely as he kisses at your sore skin, promising to shave in the morning, but you wouldn’t let him!!!!!! the stinging pain is worth him looking so entirely delectable UGHHHHH

and jensen — DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED !!! i cannot deal with jensen and his fucking beard!!!!! him as soldier boy and beau arlen are my roman empires (do ppl still say that omg??) but him giving you beard rash along your jaw and neck as he attacks your skin with his lips. he’d probably be so smug about it, looking at you all marked up and covered in pretty pink little patches UGH or just the feeling of his beard against your forehead as you bury your face into his neck late at night?? need him so bad it’s unfair !!!!!

[skineasi]

SkinEasi regina anti rash gel helps to prevent inner thigh rash, sanitary pad rashes, under breast rash, and underarm rash. Buy rub rash gel for women online.

[kisses4kaia]

I've been looking everywhere for new challengers content so I'm GLAD you're asking

idk if you just want thoughts or like fic ideas (I have both if you want to let me know) but I'll start with the thoughts cuz I needed to talk about patrick zweig 24/7 sorry

I can't stop thinking about marking him/him marking me LET ME EXPLAIN just in every way possible, hickeys, bite/scratch marks, all kind of bruises (given very lovingly and consensualy ofc)

him being so cocky for basically branding and claiming you BUT being even more proud of the marks on his own body, wearing slightly shorter shorts on the court the next day so it's showing a little etc...

anonnnnn this is too good to be true thank u (college!patrick x college!reader)

you and patrick zweig were not exclusive.

he ran around his tennis court, campus, parties, the city, getting in bed with whichever warm body welcomed him—you never knew him to be picky—and you did similarly, just not nearly as indulgent as he.

but for being just friends who fool around from time to time, patrick was awfully careless. his hands would get greedy and leave lasting bruises on your hip-dips (love handles, as he likes to call them), and his cologne lingered due to his insistence on you wearing his clothes while he fucked you.

all of the tell-tale signs of his familiarity with your body weren’t fooling anybody, but more than anything it was the marks. he loved displaying his whereabouts on your body with his mouth, and there wasn’t much that could top hearing the stutter in your voice when somebody points out the nasty rash on your collarbone. there was not much, but there was something.

the one thing patrick zweig adored more than marking you, was your marking of him. it wasn’t even the product of the love-bites he liked the most, although he was quite fond of those, but it was the feral cloud that overtook you, the heat of the passion getting to you and throwing your caution to the wind. it was the eagerness you had to really fuck him well, the best. making him feel your need and desires and all of your experiences without words through your sex was his favorite part—one of yours, too. and if that meant hurting him (at least a little bit) for him to get the sentiment, you could do that.

and even when he claims you went a little bit overboard, patrick still shows up to practice with you, shorts a little shorter due to what only could have been an intentional scrunching, spreading his heavy legs on his seat with his crotch and inner-thigh hickies exposed.

art shook his head and laughed when he saw them, and the look on your face seeing them, too. all his brunette friend could say in response was “you wish that was you, huh?” nodding down to art’s glares’ subject.

the retort was taken in good jest, but the flush of his friend’s cheeks at the comment made patrick wonder what both you and art would look like with matching stains of skin, whether it be hickies or bruises on love handles. he smiled at the thought, and stood to play.

[starkeysprincess]

I live for stepbro!rafe’s soft moments and thought of you coming back from the beach after surfing all day with your friends while you and rafe are home alone for the weekend and being so tired but also sun sick and dehydrated all nauseated. At first he wouldn’t really care, it would pass, but when you walk past him in the living room in your cropped rash guard and your ass all perky in your skimpy little thong bottoms from being worked all day, he can’t help but follow you upstairs while you get in the shower, smacking your ass to watch it jiggle “got a good workout in, huh? can I go next time?” “please, rafey, not now.” You’d groan, and he realizes you really don’t feel good, changing his tune. “N-n-no, not that, just wanna help you.”

And he’d get you all clean, wash your salty hair and get you dried and lotioned and all your hair products in to air dry into pretty waves from the ocean. “Look at my pretty girl, you look like a mermaid, princess.”

When you go back downstairs and lay on the couch to watch tv, he’s got you cradled between his legs when your head starts swaying again. “I feel sick still.” And he’d offer to help “I know how I can distract you if you let me, make you feel better” when you nod he slips your little boyshorts off and slowly starts running his fingers through your folds and up to your clit when you jump “relax, let me make you feel good.” Pretty soon he’s got you worked open slowly curling his fingers inside you and thumb rubbing your pearl, sponging wet kisses across your shoulder and whispering in your ear. Your legs start to shake and close only to be stopped by his interlocking yours and he knows you’re close as you whimper. “It’s okay, pretty girl, let it out, you gonna cum for me? Hmm? Can you do that for your big brother?” He’d murmur. When you finally let go, “that’s a good girl, see, feels better hmm?”

You’d notice his half hard cock pressing against your back, starting to lower to your knees when you come down from your high. “No baby, you don’t need to. Just want you to relax and feel better,” pulling you against him as his little spoon, massaging circles into your back and hair with his thumbs and whispering you to sleep “s’okay babydoll, go to sleep, you’re fine, rafey’s got you.”

🥺🥺🥺

as much as i love mean stepbro!rafe, i also love soft stepbro!rafe 😣

at first he’d just assume you were tired but the second you’re groaning and telling him, “please, rafey, not now”, he knows you genuinely don’t feel well, especially when he finally takes a good enough look at you to notice how sick and drained you are from being out in the sun all day.

after he helps you shower and get dressed, the two of you go downstairs to watch a movie together and you’re laying on your side, your back pressed against his chest.

“you okay?” he’d mutter, his fingers soothingly drawing circles on your stomach under your shirt. you shook your head ‘no’, mumbling that you still don’t feel sick while he’s pressing soft kisses to your cheek, “want me to distract you a bit? make you feel a little better?”.

once you give him a simple nod, he reaches around to peel your shorts and panties off, tossing them aside. his large palm wraps around your inner thigh and pulls, parting your legs. your body jolts slightly when his fingers run along your folds to your clit, rubbing gentle circles, “relax, sweet girl, let me make you feel better, alright?”.

his fingers prod against your sopping hole, pushing into you. the movements of his fingers are gentle, moving in slow, steady strokes as he works you open while he’s whispering soft praises into your ear, “there you go, feels good, yeah? doin’ so good f’me.”

his fingers curling as they swiftly pumped in and out of you and the way his thumb circled your puffy clit was enough to pull whimpers from you. your legs trembled, trying to close around his hand, only for rafe to hook his leg around yours to keep you spread open for him.

“shh, s’okay, sweet girl. let it all out, you gonna cum f’me? come on, can you do that for your big brother, baby?”

your whimpers become louder, your head rolling back to rest in his shoulder as your orgasm washes over you, “just like that, there you go, good girl”.

“see? feels better, hm?”

you nod, although you still weren’t feeling the best, you did feel a bit more relieved.

you could feel his hardon poking against your lower back and you couldn’t help but slowly try to slip off the couch to settle on your knees, only for him to stop you.

“no, sweet girl, you don’t need to do anything except lay here in my arms, okay? just want you to relax and rest,” rafe murmured. he pulled you back up onto the couch and wrapped his arms around your waist.

his hand rubbed your back, gently massaging your muscles, “shh, s’okay, babydoll. go to sleep, rafey’s got you.”

[luveline]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for Hotch but if you are— when I have bad anxiety I get a head to toe rash- hives and super itchy/hot. And Hotch comforts them/takes care of them, lots of reassurance. Thank you!

thank you for your request ♡ gn!reader

"Don't be so rough with yourself," Aaron says. You're in such a sad mood that he's managed to become the chipper one of you both. "Let me see." 

"I'm not being rough," you insist, smoothing Aloe Vera down your leg with two cruel hands.

You're being normal. Anything beyond petting is too mean for Aaron, though, and he takes your hands. 

Sleeves rolled to the elbows already, he certainly doesn't care about how messy and gross this feels. Head to toe, hives spot your skin. They crop up whenever you feel acutely anxious, worsen your anxiety by ten, and then linger unhealed. Aaron never signed up for this, and he's never baulked either way. You might even say he likes it. Not your incessant itching, but getting to help. 

Your foot on the bed, leg held up, he squirts Aloe Vera into his hands. It's cool, kept in his fridge specifically for you, a gesture that manages to cheer you up some.

"You're rough," he affirms, passing big palms up and down the flanks of your shin with a familiarity to aid your calm. His touch feels better than any medicine, though the itchiness prevails, and you're glad for it when he stops and ushers your opposite leg onto the bed. 

You curl a hand into his shirt to stop from falling over. "Sorry," you say. 

"It's okay. Don't worry about it, honey." 

"It's gross."

"Not any more gross than me." He's methodical at first, spreading the translucent gel in equal palmings down the length of your leg. He forgets what he's doing halfway through, feeling at your knee and inner thigh like he would laying in bed together, touching just to touch. 

"You don't get hives when you worry." 

"No, I get wrinkles. Mine are permanent, so really, you shouldn't complain." Your laugh makes him smile, happiness stickying his tone as he murmurs, "I should say sorry to you. I'm harassing you." 

He pushes the hem of your pyjama shorts up a touch as he spreads cold gel there. The linen shorts stick to the gel as soon as he moves his hand. You fan your face, feeling uncomfortably hot and scratchy. 

Aaron helps you put your foot back down on the floor and sizes you up. You've managed to cover pretty much every hive at this point, your skin shining with a green hue if you catch it in the light the right way. 

He sits down at the top of the bed and opens his nightstand drawer. Inside is a number of things, a cell phone, pills, a bag of throat soothers. He reaches toward the back and unveils a handheld fan, charged and raring to go as he turns it on and points it in your direction. The Aloe Vera suddenly feels wetter, the cold providing a quick relief. 

He's already asked you what's worrying you. He knew before the hives that something was wrong, not just because he's a profiler. He really, truly cares. Aaron's frowning now like the pain is his own, waving the fan in a gentle side to side. Your eyes slip closed, content to feel it wash over you like a rare breeze in the middle of summer. 

"You know the worst part about all of this?" he asks. 

"What, baby?" you ask, lips barely parted. This is the most escape you've found all day. "You can't kiss me?" 

"I can't kiss you," he says firmly. "How'd you know?" 

"You always say stuff like that." 

"You always provoke me…" Aaron shifts closer, taking your hand into his. "Feeling any better?" 

You preen at his soft touches, his thumb skirting lightly across your fingertips. "A little." 

"This is better than the Chinese menu, right?" 

Aaron had taken to fanning you with takeout menus whenever you got too hot before his recent purchase. He fanned you for hours, until you could imagine the twinging ache in his biceps, his overworked wrists, never once complaining. 

"This is amazing, Aaron, thank you," you breathe out. 

He kisses your fingertips. "You're welcome." 

[innerfare]

Smutty Shanks Headcanons

Summary: a collection of NSFW Shanks headcanons

Genre: pure smut

CW: oral sex, penetrative sex, slutty Shanks

———

Has a habit of asking people to join his crew when he wants to sleep with them. Beckman no longer wastes his breath trying to stop it, has simply resigned himself to the reality that his captain is a whore because… well, he is a whore. 

More than happy to share with others.

Has so much game, it’s unreal. Nobody had to teach this man how to pick people up at a bar, he was just born that way. And he has perhaps the most colorful body count of anyone in any of the seas, a list of past lovers that include pirates, marines, aristocrats, bureaucrats, and many a bar maid (there’s a green-haired one in the East Blue whom he is particularly sweet on and often finds himself reminiscing about). Gender, appearance, profession- none of this matters. If Red Hair Shanks has you in his sights, he’ll have you in his bed soon enough. 

Not the biggest dick, but above average and on the thicker side; definitely has a nice curve in it. Has never manscaped in his life, would be deeply offended if you suggested he should. He’d probably be offended if you shave, too. This man likes it natural and nasty. 

Kisses like he’s trying to swallow your tongue. Seriously, the messiest, sloppiest kisser, aims to swap as much saliva as possible with you; the type to share chewing gum with you. This holds true for when he goes down on you, too. 

Speaking of going down on you, he’s religious about it. He swears your pussy is a hangover cure and he’ll have a headache all day if he doesn’t get to taste you. You’ll end up with a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble, but if that’s the case, he’ll just bend you over and lick your cunt from behind to give your inner thighs a break. As much as the stubble bothers you at first, you quickly reach a point where you don’t think you’d be able to cum if a clean-shaven man put his face between your legs. 

Sometimes gets a case of whiskey dick (happens far more often than he’d ever admit), but he always makes it up to you come morning- to the point you’ve assured him repeatedly there’s no need (help, you’re so sore), but he feels he has something to prove. His whiskey dick isn’t even straight up dysfunction because he can still get hard, he just can’t cum, so even though he’ll fuck you good and make you cum, he feels like you haven’t been fucked properly until he’s finished inside you. 

Has a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on in that there are two versions of him in bed: 1) the easygoing drunk who is more than happy to lay back and let you do all the work while he watches your tits bounce (Shanks is a titties man, it’s practically canon), and 2) the pirate emperor who will pound mercilessly into you from behind, hands digging into your hips so hard they leave bruises. 

You always know when the pirate emperor is going to be the man waiting for you in bed that night based on how many jokes he cracks over dinner/drinks. If he’s in rare form, making even more jokes than usual, leaving the entire crew keeled over in laughter, he’ll be bending you over and snapping his hips against yours for a solid hour; basically, if Lucky Roux laughs until he cries, you are about to get fucked. Once you notice this pattern, you realize he makes eye contact with you while the crew is distracted by whatever joke he just told, and he always has a wicked gleam in his eye, as if his Conqueror’s Haki might just rear its powerful head. 

Pirate emperor Shanks is willing to risk it all, too. He’s not going to wait until his cabin door is shut to start tearing your clothes off. He’s not going to tell you to keep it down in case the crew overhears. He’s not going to double check you took your birth control that morning. He’s just going to fuck you, and you’re just going to take it. 

That being said, he’s never rough with you when you blow him. Blowjobs actually bring out the sweetest version of Shanks there is, the version who tells you to pace yourself and smiles brightly when he cums. He’ll hold your hair back for you, being very careful not to tangle it, and be sure not to thrust his hips forward; not into face fucking. 

Has the most ridiculous nicknames for you outside the bedroom, and these carry over into the bedroom, too. His favorite is to call you his red panda. Sometimes uses these silly nicknames to break some of the tension. 

Your most common position is with you on top, but his favorite position is prone bone. He likes your body flat against the mattress with his on top of you while he bottoms out inside. He’ll make you cross your ankles, too, so he can get even deeper. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[callsign-datura]

i loved your post describing ghosts dick! could you make one for another member of the 141? i love them equally so i dont care which one of them <3

Price... 6.7 inches. 17 centimeters. he's not very thick, but his dick is obsession-worthy. he's a menace. he knows how to fucking use what he's got. loves to fuck missionary and switch, sitting back on his legs and lifting you up by your hips to drag you onto him, splitting your cunt out on his cock and hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing white. this man fucking loves the faces you make. he stares at you so often, and this man knows about microexpression. he can tell if he hurts you on accident, he can tells if you're really liking something he's doing, and he takes advantage of that. 6.7 inches, 17 centimeters when he's hard. he's veiny, though. his cock is littered with them, and it's a real sensation ride whenever he's fucking you. he's heavy, too. even when he's hard and proud, it hangs a bit, and that's another reason why he likes missionary or when you're on your back or on your knees with your ass up and your front half down. it makes it a bit easier and doesn't really cause him to strain when he fucks you. don't even get me started on how it feels. your walls clamp on him over and over again when he's fucking you, cause goddammit, feeling his weight inside you is borderline comforting, even when you're on the verge of cumming. he also doesn't let his pubes grow too long. keeps himself trimmed. sometimes if he hasn't trimmed or shaved in a while, he doesn't like it when you surprise him while he's working; mostly because he doesn't want to give you a rash from the consistent friction, so he'll take extra care in fucking you during those times. he can never stay mad at you when you start panting and whimpering like that. and inevitably you do end up with a small rash on the inside of your thighs after, but he'll kiss it better, don't worry. he's vocal. very, very vocal. keeps his voice stern and low as he talks to you, talking you through each orgasm he inflicts on you, talking you through it as he overstimulates you... his voice never wavers. not very often, anyway. sometimes it'll shake a little when he whispers to you and he's about to cum, and you relish in it; that little tremor that fades into a grunt? holy fuck. cumming on the spot. slow fucker as well. slow and rough. bucks into you and pulls out slowly before bucking into you again, purring in that raspy voice of his at you as you mewl for him in that pretty voice of yours. angles his hips upward when you're on your back to drag along your inner wall, bucking deeper as if he's trying to mold his body with yours; which, in a way, he is. he wants nothing more than to stay inside you for however long he can. bonus kink list: cockwarming. no explanation needed. overstimulation, he kinda likes to see you whimper and grimace when he touches your over-sensitive flesh. always begs you for another, convincing you that you can take another; you can, after all. you end up cumming around 2 more times after that. breeding kink. no explanation needed for this one, but i will explain it anyway. if you're ever apart and he needs some kind of relief and he starts thinking about stuffing his cock into you and filling you up with his cum? hard on the spot oh my god. definitely wakes up hard if he dreams about you guys ever having kids.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

STFU!

for the @sterekdrabbles 30/09/24 challenge. the prompt words were VORACIOUS, LOUD, and MILK. also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as this ended up going long (884 words) xp

also found HERE on ao3

rating: EXPLICIT

Derek finally caves, succumbing to Stiles's feral wiles and allowing Stiles to drag that disgustingly hot wolfy-ass beneath Stiles's not exactly fresh and not exactly sexy bed sheets, for what is the B-movie prelude to (god willing!) the night's main event that will hopefully see Stiles Stilinski getting royally fucked within an inch of his Gay Virgin life.

Stiles—albeit inexperienced in this department but very much making up for that with a voracious sort of enthusiasm, thank you very much—is in the middle of sloppily sucking Derek off. The werewolf's not actually knotted cock-end is currently mercilessly bumping the back of Stiles's throat (Stiles is loving the fact he's never had a gag reflex, and by all accounts so is Derek), before a mix of precome and spit is confusingly flicking up into Stiles's eyes and hair as Derek manhandles him to skillfully flip their positions, Derek now suddenly the one with a mouth stuffed full of steel-hard cock.

Stiles is instantly shrieking Derek's name like a lunatic (ha) at having Derek's brand-hot mouth clamped around him, so loud Derek has to shove all four fingers of his left hand into Stiles's mouth to essentially gag him—and hopefully desist any need the neighbours could have to call the Sheriff and tell Stiles's old man his only son might be getting his throat ripped out by a wild animal of unknown description.

It embarrassingly takes no time at all of Derek swallowing Stiles down like a champ (and giving his balls a glorious beard rash for him to jerk off over tomorrow) for Stiles to be dangerously close to shooting his load—directly into what feels likely to be Derek's fucking stomach at this point, because jesus fucking christ he's gonna come hard—and he finds himself slapping haphazardly and manically at the ball of Derek's shoulder with the palm of his hand, as if they're in an wrestling ring and Stiles is desperately trying to tap-out of a full nelson.  

“No-no-no! Stop-stop-stop, Der, please, you gotta—or I'm gonna, y'know, like I'll—and it'll happen, like—shiiiiiiit, oh, man, you cannot keep doing that with your tongue, big guy, or it's gonna be game over before it's even properly begun!” he manages to splutter out, indignant and rambling more than usual with the insane levels of pleasure now shooting throughout his body like a trillion miniscule lightning strikes.  

Derek, of course, completely ignores Stiles and absolutely keeps swirling his gorgeously warm and wet tongue around what is definitely the most intense hard-on of Stiles's eighteen years on this planet, like his dick is not actually a dick at all but Derek's favourite flavour of popsicle. Although, Stiles now knows that The D (or at least Derek Hale's fantastic D) does not, in fact, taste anything like any popsicle Stiles has ever consumed; it's maybe more like salt-water taffy, only with less sugar and a lot more salt and holy mother of god, Stiles loves, loves, loves it. And even trying his dumb best to distract himself from what he knows is the inevitable, to make this not-so-little slice of pure heaven last just a teensy bit longer, Stiles knows thinking about the taste of cock while getting blown by the hottest creature he's ever had the good fortune to lay eyes on is definitely not helping his situation one iota.  

Thank fucking fuck, Derek chooses this moment to relinquish the divine vacuum he's got going on between Stiles's inner thighs via what are probably now obscenely swollen-red lips, when he releases Stiles's erection with an incredibly filthy-sounding pop.   

Almost dizzy from the change in pressure around his junk, Stiles forces his head up to eye Derek (whose lips really are an obscenely swollen-red, which is even more outrageously hot than Stiles had imagined) just as Derek says, “I'm about to suck your deranged brain out through your pretty cock, Stiles, then I'm gonna milk you dry until you're begging me to stop. So, you better hang on to something, and be careful not to bite your tongue off when I stab mine into your slit and use it to fuck your dick till you're crying, okay?” as if he's talking into the McDonald's drive through speaker to order himself a Big Mac meal with large fries and a shake, and not unknowingly acting out a spank-bank worthy scene from one of Stiles's wet dreams. 

Hell, Stiles all but comes, there and fucking then, because who the fuck says shit like that?! 

His face is doing what must be a very strange mix of a smile and a frown as he just about manages to pathetically whine the words, “But Der, oh my god, I really, really need you to fuck me!”

And yeah, he's practically crying already.

Fuck off.  

Derek grins, then, and Stiles doesn't think he's ever been more his wild wolf-self as he licks his canines and growls out, “What makes you think I won't be taking advantage of what I know is your excellent refractory period, to make you orgasm like a fucking freight train, at least twice, before I rail your tight little ass until dawn and give you several more, hmm?” 

And—honestly, Stiles has never shut the fuck up faster in all his life.

.

come leave me a comment HERE over on ao3 :)

[anonpolls]

Note from Anon: “This poll brought to you by me griping to a friend that the heat rash on my inner thighs was so painful that it was slowing me down; they had no idea what I was talking about because their thighs don’t rub together, which is something I didn’t know was possible? | No judgement on anyone’s experience or body type, I was just surprised to learn that thigh friction isn’t a universal experience!”

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