#its the way i keep losing my mind every time i get needy

[starlitfawn]

.

[miaoua3]

hey! i just saw that u opened requests and i came here to ask If you could do a seventeen reaction when you're on your ovulation week..? like, what goes on on their mind seeing you so needy, almost begging for them.. 🫠 i would really appreciate that 'cuz i LOVE your writing! thank you!! 🩷

(embarrassed to say this but this request has been sitting in my inbox for MONTHS😭 gurl im so sorry im only answering it now, i hope you dont hate me too much🫶 also don’t mind how much more porn-descriptive it got half way through, i kinda…lost the plot halfway through lmao)

SVT & Your Ovulation Week

scoups-a natural care taker who goes insane at seeing you so needy, eyes glazed as you literally beg him to fuck you. normally would try to keep it cool and collected, but you are just so needy, all the restraint he possesses gets thrown out of the window in the name of pounding into your insatiable pussy. literally goes on for hours, still has the strength to fold you in half and absolutely ruin you, even after 4 rounds. he won’t stop until he has you sobbing his name while underneath his body, until the sheets are soaked through completely. his dick might as well fall off in the end because he isn’t stopping, no matter what. overall he loses his mind at seeing you so needy, begging for him to break you (both mentally and physically)

jeonghan-normally he would be all teasing and borderline sinister as he edges you to no end, but he knows how high your emotions can run during your ovulation that he kind of just…shuts up and fuck you till he almost passes out😭 but overall loves seeing you so needy and desperate for him, gets him a bit cocky knowing that he’s the one you seek out during your emotional and vulnerable times to take care of you. in the end he physically can’t go for longer, ends up just laying there with shaking legs and just says “use me if you still need to, but fuck i am NOT moving anymore”😭 (you literally fuck his brains out)

joshua-loving, caring, and downright sinister to you all at once. he mostly goes with whatever you are feeling-he can either make the most romantic love to you or he can tie you up and make you sob for the next 3 hours. in either way-he takes care of you, body and soul. he loves seeing you so needy, so desperate for him-his love, his cock and his presence. he loves having an excuse to just shut off the world for hours and just do what he loves the most-fucking you until your whole body is shaking

jun-is so scared of doing something to piss you off so he just…shuts up and does whatever you tell him to. want him to eat you out? 🫡already on it. want him to fuck you and not to stop for the next 6 hours?…well if he can just make a small pause for a snack he’s pretty sure he can do it. embodiment of “yes ma’am” in general, but during your ovulation week? your words are his prayer, he lives to please you and make you lose your mind over everything that he does to you. overall a bit overwhelmed at how needy you get but nothing he can’t handle. even if he couldn’t, he would push through it because seeing you so…cock hungry wakes something entirely different inside of him.

hoshi-oh probably the only one who acts even worse and needier than you. he can see all the signs-glazed eyes and furrowed eyebrows, the word “please” on the tip of your tongue and grabby hands, and he knows what time of the month is. he will NOT let you leave the bed for like a day straight, hands grabbing you and dragging you back to him as he says “where do you think you are going? we are nowhere near done yet.” so…rip to your pussy girl lmao i just know its gonna be BURNING from how hard and raw he will go at it. actually loses his insanity whenever he sees you get so hungry for him during your ovulation week, so in return he will make you go just as insane

wonwoo-cocky motherfucker who thoroughly enjoys seeing you begging for him to fuck you and to absolutely destroy your needy pussy. he’s all smirks and “oh yeah?”, ego getting fed every time you beg for him to give it to you. uses your neediness to play with you-not too much because you will probably whack him or drag him to your bed and take what you want and need from him, but just a little to get your senses heightened. overall very pleased seeing you let yourself be at his mercy, makes you dehydrated from how often he makes you cum on his face, fingers and cock, and makes sure that you are satiated

woozi-oh this man will have you shaking for DAYS from how much he would fuck you. something about your constant neediness and horniness makes him snap. completely loses all sense of self in the name of making you absolutely SOAK his sheets, be it from his fingers, tongue, dick or even a vibrator. it’s almost like your pheromones affect his so much that he too loses all control, wanting to just suffocate himself in your pussy. to say that he absolutely LOVES seeing you so needy for him and his touch, is an understatement. his chest fills with this weird sense of…pride? pride that he’s the one you seek out to fulfil your needs. pride that you trust him enough to take care of you during your probably most sensitive weeks. pride that you are his to take care of.

minghao-calm and collected on the outside but inside his mind there’s a whole storm brewing due to your glassy eyes and pleading voice. gets more teasing when he sees you like that-desperate and hungry for him. but not too much-his fingers tease your folds a second longer than usual, his lips stay on your pussy just to the point where he can feel your legs clamp around his head, he teases his dick against your folds just until you start whining and pulling him towards yourself. his brain just malfunctions whenever he sees you in this state, a primal need to prolong your neediness as much as possible by teasing you, by taking his time with you.

mingyu-if you think you are needy, you obviously haven’t seen gyu. it’s enough for you to pull on his shirt and look at him with those puppy eyes that scream “fuck me🥺please” and he’s a goner. he’s all over you, all tongue and spit while he’s messily kissing you, his big hands holding your cheeks. desperately grinds and humps against your clothed core, too impatient to take them off and too needy so he can’t help but roll his clothed dick into your heat. he isn’t stopping with pleasuring you until the sheets are soaked completely. he can’t help himself, it’s almost like your pheromones affect him just as much so he gets as needy as you do. one smell of your sweet pussy is all it takes for him to lose all senses, all thoughts to disappear from his head. the needy to have you moaning, screaming and crying out his name is just so strong he choses to give up all the control, all pride and self respect, there’s only ever you

dk-it can go in two ways for this one. first, he’s either all loving, romantic and sweet, whispering loving words to you as he slowly grinds his hips into your own, dick deliciously grazing the sides of your inner wall. he just wants to take care of you, to make you feel satisfied, to satisfy your deep needs. he won’t ever day no to you, doing his best to make his baby feel loved, appreciated and taken care of. two, he literally becomes this insatiable animal, literally spinning you around the room, throwing you on the bed before he drags you to the floor, all while fucking you at insane speeds. fucks you from the bed all the way to the kitchen counter. he won’t let you move an inch away from you, all over you, licking, biting and marking you as his. and what version you will get during the next ovulation? who knows, guess you will just have to sit and wait and see 🤷‍♀️

seungkwan-oh this smirky and cocky motherfucker. usually he’s acting like a virgin mary whenever you try to insinuate that you want to fuck, all scandalised and gasping, blushing while saying to take him to the dinner first. but when you’re ovulating? when he can clearly see you get all needy? when he can sense that you will either get him to give you what you want or that you will take it yourself? oh it’s game on then. going slow, to the point where you start crying in frustration but also from how good it feels. all the while he whispers in that deep voice of his things like “oh does my angel want more? want me to fuck you harder? to give it to you, just like you want it? how you need it? why don’t you try begging some more baby, see if i will care then.” he’s do meannnn but it’s so hot-it’s hot how confident he suddenly is, how with only his words he can reduce you to a whining and needy mess that you are. he loves seeing you so desperate for him, he can’t help himself but be a bit meaner so he can see you literally begging for him. it all makes him feel…proud in a fucked up way. in conclusion-ovulation time is his favourite time of the month

vernon-probably the least affected one. sure, it gets him all excited and makes him want to make you satisfied, but you won’t see him act like an animal like some of them do, nor will you see him fucking you for hours to no end. he will keep you satisfied and all, but he physically can’t go for longer than two rounds, he’s way too dehydrated for long fucking sessions as it is. still, he will try his hardest to keep you satisfied, even if in other ways. he knows how sensitive you are to many things, that’s why he’s always there to comfort you, both with his hugs, and his mouth on your sweet pussy. he knows that you get the need to crawl inside his skin, that nothing feels close enough. that’s why he will cuddle you so much until you become one, or he will literally let you feel his whole weight while he’s on top of you, hips rolling in deep movements as he’s fucking you. he knows how you need him to verbally show you that he loves you. that’s why he will gently kiss your forehead and whisper a little “i love you” every few hours-or, he will grab your neck, spit in your mouth and say “you are mine.” he will take care of you, that’s for sure-in which way however?🤷‍♀️ who knows

dino-oh poor boy. oh this poor poor boy. the moment you get your hands on him, he knows it’s going to be an eventful night. he doesn’t even fight it-the moment you grab the front of his shirt and practically throw him on your bed, he just accepts it and prepares for the longest and best fucking session of his life. he gets unusually submissive, he does whatever you want him to. you grab his hair and drag him to your pussy so he can eat you out? say less, your wish is his command. you want him to fuck you in a certain position? he’s breaking his back from how fast he tries to get into that position. he just wants to give you everything you might need. he can’t really explain why, he just…does. seeing you so needy, but still being needy only for him? it turns his brain into a mush. he’s already whipped for you as it is, but add all the emotions and pheromones while you are ovulating? you get simp dino maxxed out on the attitude “yes ma’am”.

[devnmon]

appetites indulged

astarion x reader

warnings: anal sex, pegging, fingering (m), handjob while fucking, teasing, spanking, doggy style (?), astarion being a little shit, edging

Summary: Astarion's been a little shit all day and you decide to put him in his place.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: so i had this idea when my lovely mutual @clericblood was writing their fic, after office hours, and i had the idea for the same thing, but astarion bent over instead of reader. if no one's told you today, you can peg that vampire. hope you all enjoy mwah <3

You thought it was cute how he’d woken up all needy. Several hours ago. 

Now it was just tedious. 

Astarion was such a pouter when it came to never getting his way. Of course you weren’t so mean, you always indulged his needs. When you had the time. 

But all day long? It had become a pain. 

There were much too many things on your agenda for you to sit around and get him off, again. Especially when he was glued to your side all day. 

“Do vampires have a period of heat or something? You’ve been on me since this morning.” 

Astarion lingers close behind you, his scent of rosemary and bergamot the only thing you’ve been breathing in all day.

He sighs dramatically, dragging a finger down your back. Just the smallest touches were enough to bend you to his whim. But not this time, he’d have to do better than that. 

“Astarion, I’m busy.” You didn’t gratify his wordless plea with anything other than a flat tone. 

“You weren’t this morning, hmph…”

Of course you weren’t, you made him come twice before you even thought about getting up from your bed. All the tasks you decided on starting early were then picked up several hours late, leaving you very behind schedule. 

Ignoring him, you continue on with your project to keep your hands and mind busy, the thought of putting everything aside to get him off not even on your radar. 

Again he was at your side, grazing his hands over your skin, attempting with that vampiric charm to squander your focus. You loved him– you really did, but it was irritating when he acted like this. It took all of your strength not to give him an inch. Because without fail, every single time, he took a mile. 

“Don’t provoke me, Astarion. Or you’ll regret it.” 

Nothing in your voice gave away the idea of what would happen if he continued. 

“I can’t regret anything when it comes to you. Gods, I need you…” He whispered against your ear. 

Oh, you were aware of such a thing. The desire to put him in his place lingered, but seeing to what extent he would push you would be even more intriguing to witness. 

It’s when he drops to his knees at your ankles that you know he’s desperate. Not an expression you saw on your vampire very often, but when you did, it’s full fledged. 

You can feel his hardness against your leg as you stand over the kitchen table, already in the know of how much he aches for your touch in its entirety. Astarion’s forehead is against your calf as well, his whole body draped over your feet so you couldn’t move. 

“Astarion.” 

“How much longer…” He gave an exaggerated sigh. 

“You do realize how needy this makes you look?”

“Don’t care… need you to touch me– my cock… so bad… It hurts…” He whimpers this time, letting his palm drop over the bulge in his pants, pressing lightly. 

“Hmm, seems like you shouldn’t have gotten yourself all worked up then.” 

Absolutely no sympathy in your voice, only an annoyed tone that said enough. 

“You can pick up these tasks tomorrow surely… darling… nngh…” 

“Oh, now you’re really whining.” 

“You want to get off?” you ask rhetorically, not waiting for his response, “You’re going to have to earn it.”

“But I need you now…” he whines again. You’re able to slip your legs out from his grasp when he glances upwards. 

You leave your task unfinished, shoving it aside for the moment to walk out of the room. Astarion attempts to follow you like a lost puppy, not wanting to lose sight of you. That alone could get him off if he gazed upon you for long enough. 

“Aht aht, stay right there.” 

He slinks back down onto his knees, biting his lip out of frustration. 

“You’d better not touch yourself. You don’t get that privilege after being a little shit all day.” 

His hands bunch into fists over his thighs, attempting to sit still as you leave the room. He knows what’s coming, and if he’s to get any release at all, listening for once is the best option. 

When you saunter back into the room, you’ve discarded your pants, adorning only your underwear and strap on silicone cock you know is Astarion’s favorite. 

The sight alone makes him whimper, ruby eyes locked on your figure as you make your way over to him. His fists are still curled into a ball, knuckles white with how much arousal flows through his blood. You haven’t even touched him, and he’s already putty in your hands. 

“You actually listened, huh. That’s the first time today.”You say with a surprised tone. The next words that come from your mouth are dripping with lust. “What a good boy.” 

The minute you step closer to him, cupping his chin with your palm, his limbs wrap around your legs again. 

“I’ll give you what you want.” His ears perk up, “After you do as I say.” 

“Please… anything…” 

“Well, this cock isn’t going to suck itself.” Astarion’s eyes widened, pupils dilating as his eyes hit the toy at your groin. “Go on, then.” 

He doesn’t have to speak his agreement to what you’re saying, only scoots closer and sticks out his tongue. Licking the tip of the toy, saliva drips down the length and spreads it along with his hand. He hums with content, slowly sucking and swirling his tongue down the side as if it was part of your body.

“Gods, you look so good on your knees like that.” 

Astarion felt his cock throb again, uncontrollably rutting upwards for any kind of release. You let his daring action go, looking down upon him with a raised eyebrow. The elf hummed again and continued sucking on the toy, either choosing to remain naive, or wanting to see how many more of your buttons he could press. 

It’s when he grinds upwards again, becoming more regular with the gestures, that you catch on to what he’s doing. His lips reddened from the constant up and down, he’s felt the toy hit the back of his throat multiple times. After a few minutes of this, you finally run a hand through his hair, pulling him off. 

Astarion bites his lip, and you could swear he started thrusting his hips against you erratically. 

“Are you seriously rutting against my leg right now?” 

The vampire said nothing else, only indulging the delicious friction your legs granted him, cock throbbing under his clothes. 

“Hah– ah…” 

“Like a damn cat in heat…” you mutter, fully fed up with his antics at this point. 

This was your limit. You’d dealt with his lingering touches and teasing words all day, all poor attempts to distract you. But this took the cake for the most lust-driven thing he’s ever done. And gods, were you so tired of his bratty behavior. 

“Astarion, stand up, right now.” 

He glanced upwards with those puppy dog, red round doe-eyed I-can-get-anything-I-want-if-I-pout-long-enough eyes, leering towards the sudden attention. It was when you motioned upwards that he sprung into action.

“Take your shirt off. Now.” 

He grinned cheekily and complied with your request, a completely different idea of what was going to go down in his head. 

“Is this what you really want?” 

“Mhm…” he answered. 

You smiled devilishly, beckoning him closer with a singular finger. He pads forward eagerly, the stature he owns almost the same as his usual one, a bit more flair in his lust blown eyes. Astarion can’t hide how aggravatingly hard he is, not when the outline of his length presents itself through the leather of his pants. 

Softer than Astarion wanted, you place your hands on his waist, looking up at him as you lean in, teasing a kiss. 

What he doesn’t expect is for your grip to tighten, turning him around and pressing his body down onto the table in one fluid motion. 

A gasp leaves his lips, surprised at your quick movements, and still desperate. He mutters please again, the vampire’s bulge pressing directly against the table’s side. Astarion glances at you with a smirk. 

“Don’t move, brat. I’ve had enough of your antics.” Your hand presses into the small of his back, keeping him still. Astarion’s deep breaths fill the room, attempting patience but the tight clothing is making him sweat. Soon enough the glistening beads course down his back muscles and around the marks of his scars, even more of a vision as his skin shimmers in the warm light. 

His back immediately arches upon your touch, ass pressing further out from over the table. It’s asking to be grabbed the moment he swivels his hips slightly. You can tell he’s fighting the way his garments restrict his cock for an inch of friction. 

Another failed attempt, pushing one of your palms into the soft flesh of his ass over his pants. 

“Mmmh…” Astarion purrs, amused. The hand you have on him kneads what you can grab, picking up on his shuddering breaths that seem to show how far he’s been edged. 

“You’re so eager to be fucked, aren’t you? My sweet boy…” He grinds back against you, letting his impatience show. 

“Please, I need you. Inside…” he mutters. 

“Tsk, tsk. Always begging when you know you’ve been bad. What shall we do about that, hm?” 

It’s when you pull down both his pants and underwear at the same time, slower than he could’ve ever imagined, that he ceases talking and releases a slew of jumbled sounds. Even from behind him, perfect ass in view, you can see the glistening of his cock as it drips with precum from all day being contained under cloth. 

You can tell he’s still muttering a please here and there, frenzied in his need for anything that will get him off. 

Pressing your left hand into the small of his back again, that delicious arch coming into your view, the other palm rubs circles against one of his cheeks. 

“Still begging me, hm? If you’re good I’ll let you come. But only if you’re good. I just don’t know if you can manage that…” You tell him in a patronizing tone. 

“No..!” he gasps, “no, I can… Just please…” 

“Please, what? You’re going to have to use your words.” 

“Please, touch me… My cock aches to be inside you and fuck to no end until our voices are hoarse from our own pleasure…” 

“Do you really think that’s going to get you anywhere?” 

“Always worth a try… hah…” 

“Fucking brat.” You huff a breath, slapping his ass lightly to test if it would elicit a response. 

“Ah–!” He calls out from the sudden sting of your palm, but it drips with pleasure. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” 

“Mmh… yes…” He replies, trying to keep it together. 

“Again?” 

“Yes, please…”

You indulge him, this time with a bit more force that leaves a stronger sting. And then one more time, a firm slap onto his cheek that was sure to leave a mark. 

“Please put it in…”

“Put what in, naughty boy?” 

“Your cock. Please, please just fuck me… touch me, m-my cock… I want to cum for you so bad…” 

“Hm. If you’re so desperate to cum, maybe you shouldn't have been bothering me about it all day. Your hand works well enough, doesn’t it?” 

“N-No.. nothing compares to you… absolutely nothing.” His voice falters, “No toy, no mage hand or spell will ever compare to that tight, wet, warm cunt of yours.” He growls the last word. 

“Oh, now… Flattery has always been one of your best qualities.” You sigh, the tone in your voice suggestive to what move you’ll make next. 

Your palms slide down the curve of his ass, crouching down fully behind him. Once you do so, he parts his legs expectantly. The heat of your body hovers near him, something he picks up on quite quickly. 

When you press your tongue against Astarion’s tight ring of muscle, his hips buck and he flutters open faster than you can think of how touch starved he’d become. 

“Please,” he whimpers, his voice small. Starved and pathetic in a way you’ve never heard him before. “I need you. Inside.” 

Your tongue flicks against it again, his shiver one of the best reactions you’ve gotten out of him today. Nevertheless, you pull away and lather two of your fingers with saliva, gently pressing them into his entrance. His head tilts upwards, erratic exhales breaking through his moans as you stretch him out.

“Oh– darling…” he pants, hands splayed out on the table. Your fingers inside of him are the most satisfying thing he’s felt all day. It’s when you curl them against the perfect spot that he starts dropping curses and the filthiest moans to no end. 

“Fuck– sh-shit… oh, keep going pleasepleaseplease…” 

“Oh you like that don’t you?” 

“Mhmm… yes, please… more,” he purrs, thrusting your fingers in deeper to curl and repeat the same motion again. 

Astarion’s whines continue to rise in pitch, and you realize he’s drawing close to his release. This is your cue, the perfect timing. You pull your fingers out and away from him in one fluid motion, watching how his body almost collapses from the loss. 

“You’re so cruel,” he whimpers loudly, shutting his eyes and jutting his ass out as if he was going to find something to satisfy his desires. 

“No, Astarion. I’m merely paying you back for today.” You tilt your head, gazing down at his writhing form, those red eyes catching yours as his head turns back. He looks positively fucked out, and you haven’t done more than finger him. 

“Fuck…” you mutter under your breath. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty when you’re under me. All fucked out without even having my hands on your cock, hm?”

“My love… I’m sorry…” He mutters, almost soundless. But you hear him. 

“Was that… an apology?” 

“Yes, gods, okay, yes…” he swallows thickly, “I’m sorry for bothering you all day. No excuses… I was a nuisance.” 

“Mhm…” 

“And… I’ll spend all night making it up to you if I must.” 

“You’re such a good boy. I’ll have to take you up on that. But for now, I think you deserve a reward for saying you’re sorry, don’t you?” 

“Yes–” he almost chokes out, looking back towards you, “yes, gods… please…”

“Want my cock so bad, don’t you? You look so good underneath me. So pretty, so perfect…” You run your hands up and down his back now, noting how his chilled skin shivers under your touch. The silicone cock rests in between his cheeks, the last tease you’ll give him as you leave kisses down his back. 

“One more thing? Don’t you dare hide your beautiful voice from me.” 

Astarion breathes heavily, glancing back at you with those rubies that bring you to your knees metaphorically. 

“Come here.” 

His chest rises from the table, pressing yours against his back and immediately leaning in to kiss him. His lips have the same sweet softness he’s always adorned, but his kisses are with an intensifying and electrifying surge through you. Astarion’s hand reaches back and you grab it in yours, lacing your fingers with his in a sweet gesture. You both moan against each other’s lips, tongues dancing as you share the breath between your lungs. Your palm cups his cheek, the softness of his cool skin a welcome sensation. 

When he bites his lip, having been edged enough for one day, you give him a knowing look and press him back down towards the table.

Once you grip the base of it in your hand, prodding the tip of it at his eager entrance, he moans without restricting himself. Astarion’s voice puts you out of any coherent thoughts, pressing the tip of your cock into him. 

“You can take it, can’t you? For me?” 

“Yes, I can…” 

“Good boy.” You cooed sweetly. Astarion blushes, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he is. 

You lean over his back again, lining up the tip of your strap against his hole, diving in inch by inch. You slide in with no resistance, planting kisses on his shoulder while you bottom out. He’s already stretched out quite nicely from your prior intrusion, if it was only a short one. 

The friction against your own heat would have to be tolerated for the moment, this was about him. Your hips rock softly forward until you bottomed out, his in return pressing further backwards. 

You leverage your body by putting one of your hands on the table next to him, angling your torso the right way before undulating upwards in a smooth wave. Astarion’s breath hitches and lets his eyes fall closed as you work your length inside him, pressing firmly against his g spot. 

“Look at that, taking me so well.” You praised right next to his elven ears, panting along with him as you found a steady pace. 

Nothing coherent came out of Astarion’s mouth, only picking out a select few words in Elvish, your name intertwined within every few words. There’s nothing on his mind is the combination of your cock inside his walls and the indulgence of getting fucked so well after the stunt he pulled. 

“Uuuufh fuck me, fuckme…” 

Every drag of your cock makes his swell, pressing his hips further back in tune with your thrusts. It’s almost enough, his knees weakening every moment that passes and the sound of your breathing in his ears. 

No wonder he’s already so close, your deep thrusts are so damn precise and you know exactly what you’re doing. The only thing that would make him stumble over the edge sooner was if you touched his cock– oh, your hand is right there… 

And when it does close around his base, stroking him in rhythm of your thrusts, you ask him for one more thing. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Astarion… when I fuck you like this.” 

Your sultry voice sets him off, and suddenly he’s doing his best to tell you. 

“It feels… gods, divine… Like no time I’ve ever had before, you know my body so well… you fuck me so well… every… time…” 

He’s reduced to a mess of moans and curses dropped, completely lost in his own rapture as your hand continues pumping him in time with your hip movements. 

“Look at you… so eager to come already.” 

“Yes… gods– Please can I–? Pretty please…” 

“Go ahead, baby. Let go for me…” You encouraged, licking up to the long point of his ear to throw him over the edge as your hand fisted his tip. Three of the most sensitive parts of the elf being stimulated makes him clench over your cock, fluid trailing over his tip and down the underside. 

His jaw goes slack as the additional invigoration tips him over, tension releasing from him as his hot cum spills into your hand and you feel his hips clench, sending ripples through his body. Spurts of him continue to coat your hand, the most he’s ever done before. 

You collapse over his back after pulling out slowly, kissing his cheek while you both catch your breath. 

“Don’t ever… test my patience… again…” you say between heavy breaths. Another kiss to his shoulder. 

“Yes, darling…” Astarion replies, turning his head to slot his lips with yours. 

When you both stand upright, he pulls you close by the waist, cock not even done standing upright with arousal. 

“How in the Nine Realms could I ever make this up to you?” 

“I know a few ways…” 

Astarion’s hands cupped your ass, encouraging you to jump into his arms. When you did so, he scheming the many ways he’d spend the night worshipping you to no end. 

[guliexe]

۶ৎ bf!2hollis headcanons [sfw & nsfw]

AN: this is hella corny but oh well!

SFW

- he’s the person who would fall for someone he already knows for some time.

- that’s how after some months of knowing you, he finally confessed his feelings towards you , after making sure you have feeling for him too, and you started dating.

- at first, he soft launches your relationship with an instagram story of you hugging him, covering your face with your hand.

- but as time passes, you start feeling more comfortable with showing your face to his fans.

- he absolutely loves taking you on small, intimate dates—nothing too flashy, just the kind that feels warm and effortless.

- whether it’s catching a late-night movie with his arm draped lazily over your shoulders or singing (and sometimes shouting) his favorite songs at a tiny karaoke bar.

- at shows or public events, he always keeps you close, an arm draped casually but protectively around your waist.

- If someone tries to flirt or get too close, he just pulls you even closer, kissing the top of your head to make it clear who owns his heart.

- on those rare, quiet nights when it’s just you two in the dark, he lets his guard down completely.

- talking about his dreams, the places he wants to take you, the life he wants to build together, and how he never thought he could love someone this much.

- He pulls you close, promising that no matter where his career goes, you’ll always come first.

- he loves playing video games with you. he has a secret a minecraft world dedicated to you.

- when he’s on tour and can’t sleep, he calls just to hear your voice. sometimes he doesn’t even say much—just listens to your breathing or your sleepy murmurs.

- sometimes he just drives with you beside him, windows down, city lights flashing by, and his favorite tracks playing low.

- he loves how your laughter fills the car and how the city feels like it belongs just to the two of you.

- most of his songs are about you, though he doesn’t admit it sometimes.

- It’s almost second nature by now, every melody, every lyric seems to find its way back to you. you’re his muse.

- he would never cheat on you, he’s not the cheater type anyway. he never looks at other girls, he only has eyes for you.

- he absolutely loves spoiling you. honestly, it’s one of his favorite things to do.

- whether it’s a random tuesday or a special occasion, he’s always surprising you with gifts. sometimes it’s designer clothes that he swears would look perfect on you, and other times it’s jewelry that glimmers just right when the light hits it.

- “nothing is too good for my girl”

- he also bought matching bracelets for both of you on your birthday

- sometimes he gets quiet and just holds you a little tighter, worried about losing the one person who makes him feel complete.

- the adrenaline from performing leaves him hyped up and restless, and the second he sees you backstage, he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you with an intensity that shows just how much he missed you.

- he never leaves without giving you a long, lingering kiss, promising to come back to you as soon as he can, no matter how busy his schedule gets.

NSFW

- he loves teasing you when you’re out together—whispering suggestive things in your ear when no one’s watching, just to see your cheeks flush.

- his hand never leaves your waist, and he makes sure you know exactly what’s on his mind without saying too much.

- after a long night out, when you’ve been teasing him with flirty glances and subtle touches, he barely makes it through the door before he’s on you

- pinning you against the wall, his mouth hot and needy as he mutters how he’s been dying to get his hands on you all night.

- Sometimes he’ll call you when he’s on tour, his voice low and gravelly as he asks exactly what you’re wearing and what you’re doing.

- He’ll describe in vivid detail what he wants to do to you when he gets home, loving the way your voice shakes trying to keep up with his filthy words.

- “i miss you, baby, can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy when i get back”

- he knows how much you love his voice, so sometimes he records little snippets of him jerking off and sends them to you when you’re horny.

- he loves picking out clothes for you, but sometimes his choices are deliberately a bit too revealing.

- When you question it, he just smirks and says, “I like knowing everyone’s looking at you but I’m the only one who gets to touch.”

- he loves leaving little marks on your neck or collarbone—nothing too obvious, but just enough that you know it’s there.

- when you catch him glancing at it with that smug, satisfied smile, you know he did it on purpose.

- he has a habit of sliding his hands up your thighs under the table at restaurants, his fingers teasing dangerously close to your panties while keeping up a casual conversation as if nothing’s happening.

- sometimes, when you visit him at the studio, he’ll pull you onto his lap mid-session, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he grinds his hard dick on your clothed pussy.

- he’ll mumble something about how you’re too much of a distraction, but he doesn’t stop, loving the way you whine in his ear, as your panties become wetter and wetter.

- he’ll trail his lips along your neck, whispering how good you sound when you’re desperate for him.

- even if he’s sweet during sex most of the time, he loves seeing you completely overwhelmed and he gets off on telling you exactly what to do.

- guiding your hands over his body, making you say his name the way he likes, guiding your movements with a firm hand and a low, commanding tone.

- the way you obey without question drives him wild, and he makes sure to reward you thoroughly for being so good for him.

- “look at me, princess, i wanna see how good i make you feel”

- sometimes he’ll catch you while you’re doing something mundane—washing dishes, fixing your hair—and suddenly you’re pressed against the counter, his hands wandering as he kisses down your neck, his voice is low and soft.

- “can’t help myself when you look so good.”

- he’s a master at teasing. taking you right to the edge and then pulling out of your dripping hole just to hear you beg for it.

- “you can take a little more for me, can’t you?”

- he loves it when you’re on top, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls your pussy down onto his mouth, eating you out.

- He’ll hold you there, completely in control despite being underneath, groaning against you as he makes sure you fall apart over and over.

- he loves bending you over in front of a mirror, making you watch as he takes you from behind.

- he’ll lock eyes with you through the reflection, grabbing and smacking your ass, as he whispers how gorgeous you look all messed up just for him.

- he has a habit of wrapping his hand tightly around your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath hitch and your pulse race.

- he loves how you struggle to speak as he smirks down at you.

- he loves finishing on your stomach or thighs, admiring how it glistens on your skin before kissing you softly.

- when he’s feeling possessive, he’ll cum in you or on your chest, smirking as he traces the mess with his fingers.

- on especially rough nights—like after a show—he loves finishing on your face, groaning at how good you look covered in him before pulling you into a deep, heated kiss.

- as intense as he gets, he’s just as gentle afterward. cleaning you up, kissing your forehead, and whispering soft reassurances.

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[gnohomotho]

May I play with you? 「✦Pt.4✦」

Pairing: The Salesman // The Recruiter x fem!reader Summary: I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging - the salesman, however...Oh, you thought one lost game was bad? You thought he'd let you off like that, his precious flower, his tender lady he won't admit, even to himself, he is deeply enthralled by to the point of obsession? So much so that he likely doesn't see the same rope around his own ankle as he pushes her over the edge? She isn't one to fall for a simple game, but can she keep up? ⭒˚.⋆˖➴༯ Warnings: We have a shower scene, folks, for I bring old men and tiddies and lots of rejoicing. No, seriously, harsh language, nakedness, intimacy, 18+ even if not smut yet, MDNI, undressing, grabbing, ordering, violence, descriptions of heavy physical touch. Inner monologues, trauma reactions, unacted but described scenes of dubious consent and/or heavy very bad implications. Word count: 6.6k A/N: You wouldn't believe how much time I spent on this and how much I am putting in the next chapter. ˙ᵕ˙ And how much I was trying not to imagine David Byrne in a big suit the whole time. Please excuse the delay, was swimming in not so nice things as a shower with this round-faced menace. (❀´ ˘ `❀) Gorgeous gif by: @phantom-evil Tag list: @storytellers-randomshortstorys @ingstadstarlight જ⁀➴ Link to previous Link to next Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ If you like my work, I cherish every like // reblog // follow // message - thank you for helping me boost visibility and writing! ♥

The hotel he took you to, though it took you a while and you stumbled more times than you could count, was dark. Once more, it looked half deserted. The sign was an upgrade – half the letters still managed to cough up light, shining red on the dark road around the entrance.  

Each time your vision went dark, and you steadied against a wall, a lamp post, anything to guide you – he didn’t help. He didn’t touch you. He merely observed as you gathered yourself, steadied yourself, and found resolve to push into your limbs and will them to walk.

Though it felt like punishment, you don’t think he’s that shallow nor that easily offended.

Nor that invested. This is so typical. So par on course. He’s just like all the others.

You noticed that the few people you passed stared but said nothing. A girl with blood on her face, blood and dirt on her barely hanging dress, stumbling around a tall man in a fine suit speckled with blood who walks as if ready to greet a political rival. Yet the one time you failed to adjust in time, the one time darkness enveloped your closing vision without a pocket of air, you opened your eyes to him gone.

A burning brush against each side of your hip, ready to steady you.

When you did gather stability, he walked to his usual distance, as if nothing happened. You hated him in that moment. Truly hated him. The spots were burning, and he made you feel…small. Ashamed. Needy. Weak.

��This way, little lady.”

He guided you through the door and you noticed the reception hall was empty.

Just as he did with the night sky, it seems his presence clouded and swallowed the atmosphere without a hint of effort. He wasn’t intruding, taking, blunt-forcing his way through – yet his presence, in its polite unassuming serenity, seemed to startle and stiffen the very air around him.

When you finally got up the stairs to a room, he let you walk in first, closing and locking the door behind you.

Yep. Here we go.

You get ready for your limbs to lose the rest of their feeling, your head to cloud, and your mind to simply float off until he’s done. You’re used to that. You can work with that.

Do your worst.   

The salesman walks to the window and the small balcony connecting all other rooms in the row. With one elegant motion he opens the curtains and the moon gazes back at you, surrounded by stars.

Did he…do that for me?

You shake the thought away. Of course not. He couldn’t care less what you were gazing at on the ground of the alley.

You sit in a soft chair and note the pain, dulled but very present, shooting through each bruise. You do not wish to count nor examine the damage. You simply sit, hands in your lap, gazing in his direction and trying to focus on the soft sickle shape in the sky.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

Your whisper broke the silence and felt like a transgression.

He turns around, eyes calm, expression ever jovial.

“I want to tend to my flower. And see how far she can go without using that pesky poison. As useful as it seems, as it was, as it is...it seems to get in the way.”

You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at and both options sting.

“My little flower, try to keep up.”

The fact that he noticed your momentary loss in thought rivals your own hypervigilance. You almost instantaneously centre back on him, unaware that you directly obeyed with not a hint of doubt.

And of course.

He noticed, you notice he noticed – though the expression remains the same mask, his dominant hand flutters, as if his fingers were about to catch a moth before it finds a flame. Your eyes try so very hard to focus on the sky, yet his round, unassuming face underlined with a large hand’s pulsation outshines the little shape you’re hanging onto. And his voice does nothing to sooth nor help you on the matter.

“Flower, flower, so faint against the pale moonlight…I did say I wanted to play a game. And we didn’t finish our last one…” his face contorts into a small frown as he moves closer to you, soundlessly, the carpet swallowing his deliberate steps; he seems to move like the air makes way for him in soft streams of silence. You flinch as he enters your proximity, his expression almost comically unfitting the situation. It’s as if he wordlessly forces the atmosphere to freeze.

“…And I have so much in mind for my tender flower.”

His face stops too close to yours. Those eyes are grabbing at your vision, appropriating each of your senses without effort. Your breath doesn’t quite catch up as you hear his last words:

“Choose a game for her.”

It wasn’t an order. Yet you had no choice.

Mine for the night, to do with as I please.

❥❥❥

A secret for a secret.

As the salesman sat on a chair opposing you at a slight degree angle, he laid his briefcase on the table and leaned to you, arms resting on his knees, trousers pulled up just enough to unveil his ankles. It reminded you of each time he sat next to you at the station. The nonchalance of back then in contrast to the stakes now made you grow colder.

I began to trust him, each time at the station, as he sat there, smiling. Never overstepping. My shameful certitude. Now look at me. Now fucking look at me.

The bruises burnt, your head was a sharp paralyzed freezing bundle of shivers, and your hands, nestled and intertwined through every finger on your lap, gave it away quite easily. Only now do you realise your tights have been torn and your mind wanders too far before you can catch it.

Please snap out of it, Y/N, Y/N, snap snap snap. Don’t make him angry. Don’t fall over. Focus on the moon. Your sister needs you. Snap out of it.

You didn’t meet his gaze, knowing whatever ground you still had sliding from under your feet would be on its merry way immediately. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him go through slight amusement, to indifference, to…still disquiet.

Just as a lake goes placid when the predator dives in waiting. Not a fish nor a ripple. Composure in transience.

The way the corners of his mouth imperceptibly twitched, as if glitching in their plastic poise. No matter, they smoothed right over with a soft smile as he zoned in on you.

“The one who tells the better secret wins.”

“What do they win?”

“A favour.”

“That’s hardly a game, is it?”

“A game is what you make it, little lady. It’s not about the pieces…it’s about the players.”

“Why would I want to know anything about you?”

He momentarily turns to the moon you’ve been gazing at and speaks in the same direction as you.

He seems so skilled at swallowing your every thought, movement, wish; mirroring, noticing each thing about you and either using it or keeping it as collateral.

Once more his pleasant hum circles your ears, and you gaze at the soft sickle too. Though now you look at the back of his head, and his body – knowing he cannot see you do so – and try not to shudder. The suit is roughed up, yet his poise repairs each tear. His posture is confident, yet playfully relaxed. But that neck and head…are tense. Tense with anticipation and things you glimpsed in those charcoal eyes you do not wish to see come out.

“Sometimes…knowledge can protect you from things that go bump in the night, tender flower. Things that…” he slowly turns his head to you, a single hand leaving his knee to hover above your little palm temple, “���one cannot touch until one knows their shape.”

As he concludes the sentence, a single finger lands on your knuckle and your eyes inadvertently meet his. They snatch you and hold, the connection and touch burning through you, becoming one with whatever darkness swims in those eyes, threatening to pull you into the depths of their lurking depravity.

The detective was right. And I can feel his body coiling around me. I can’t move.

A shaky breath, but you do not break contact nor pull away. Gazing straight into those eyes, you cock your head to the side slowly and mouth:

“Once more…good sir…what happens to the one who loses?”

Just as a one-way mirror, he mimics your tilt, and his close-lipped smile grows. Leaning into you, so close his face shields the moon and stars, he whispers as his finger slowly circles your knuckle and moves up your hand:

“They owe a bigger favour.”

Now you pull away. Heart beating so fast your lip shivers in tune.

“That doesn’t make sense. What happens to the one who loses the game?”

He retracts his touch, expression unfading.

“They become indebted to the winner until their debt is paid in full.”

It’s better than strip poker, you think, trying to lighten a terribly dark situation. Mostly because we have roughly two and a half layers and have never played poker before.

“Alright. Go ahead. Tell me a secret.”

The salesman almost scoffs, ever polite.

“The little flower is giving orders now? Even as I hold the shears? Amusing…” You didn’t get time to move, to think, just as a viper strikes from its nest, the salesman’s hand shoots to your face, grabbing you easily into his palm, just as before. But this time, he forcibly turns your head to him, leaving no means of escaping his eyes. He looks down at your hands, still almost calmly resting in each other, your posture, which didn’t change. A glint of genuine endeared surprise flashes across his face, but he says nothing.

In his palm, he slowly turns your head, as if testing, testing how much he can move, how much he can force. You feel your head lull in his grip, and you close your eyes.

Sinking into him even as the pain envelops your jaw.

Funny how his harsh touch somehow pulls things away from your own pounding head, like a strong current pulling at a thousand rivers and letting them pool into him. Away from you.

Peace.

“Little lady, little lady…truly a wonder you are.”

You smile as you rest your head, he doesn’t know you’re a player with cards hidden all over your body, he doesn’t know he’s playing with a fire that has learnt to burn on ice.

❥❥❥

He poured you both a drink. You do not partake. Slowly his lips move as he rests a finger against his temple, studiously. The contrast of the still ragged hand and ever-present veins against the smooth round face plays into the sense of wrong. He curls the words on his tongue:

"I've taken the liberty of speaking to your colleague."

Speaking. To my. Colleague.

He's dead.

You know better than to ask a question. That's not a big secret. All you have to do is play a better one.

"A detective has taken the liberty of speaking to me."

A small inflected 'hmmm' fills the silence. Interesting, but not quite.

"That's no secret to me, little lady. Try again."

What? How does he know? Of course he does.

As your hair falls gently, in a feeble attempt to shield your face and caress your skin, you try once more.

"I haven't told anyone about you."

That was supposed to be the secret. But the real one slipped through just after, in a voice that was truly genuine and small:

"I should have. I should have listened."

Your voice trails off as the regret fades into a shade of shade.

"Adequate. Such a fast learner." The salesman gets up and lays a hand on his briefcase. Your mind, back to its own resources, begins to worry and once more...only blanks.

"Though it is wise to keep your cards to your chest, I must say – mine was the better secret, lovely lady. As you can gather yourself if I know anything about that pretty head of yours." Bending to you, he almost coos with that overdrawn little frown in feigned pity:

"That poor little head of yours that's taken such a nasty beating in the last few days alone. No wonder it falls into my hand like a little bird crying for its mother’s warmth."

The way he seems to momentarily freeze, the manner in which no movement, no matter how theatrical, isn't overdrawn...Calculated. He's too calculated, even in play.

"Now," he stops once more and slowly eyes you from foot to eyes, "be a good girl for me and slide down the other strap. I find it harrowing to watch one torn apart while the other holds onto your skin for dear life. So unfair. So very...uneven."

Not when it should be his hand tearing at your skin in its place, you think the rest of his sentence for him.

You do as he says, and the dress falls down slightly, catching itself around your breasts in a soft little heap and you thank every single deity for the luck alone. But looking up at the salesman, his eyes. You know that expression. You feel it in your thighs.

Excitement.

As he watches your neck, your collarbones, your skin glint against the darkened room, you suddenly don't think you thanked the right Gods. He's not like the others. He's not at all like the others. Please, let him be like the others. This is torture.

"Will you let me tend to you, just a little bit? I cannot bear to see you like this." That frown is working overtime. He gets up, but before the tip of his shoe reaches the space between your huddling feet...

You almost laugh. Truly laugh. He overplayed his hand quite terribly here.

"No."

"No?" The salesman lengthens the word back to you, inflection playful as it kisses his lips like honey, his demeanour delineating anything but.

His slow expression morphs into that of cold discontent hidden behind a small frozen smile. Face unmoving, except for the eyes – zoning and pointed straight at you. You expect to be hit, to be grabbed, to be shouted at, to be hurt – anything of the kind; you know that expression, you know that intonation. But you try, you put every molecule of effort left into keeping yourself together and breathe a small breath before continuing.

"No. You haven't earned another favour yet. Pardon me. But. That's not how the game works."

One more inhale as you ready to continue, though your hands are positively vibrating, we can do this. He's bound with the same rope as me, the same rules.

"No fun in a game with broken rules. No fun in taking what feels so much better given. I recall you saying...you prefer your games fair, good sir. And I would truly not wish to aid you in your own disappointment."

You blink at him slowly, tired but sharp eyes mirroring his glassy pools and his half-robotic, half-laissez faire movements.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking of ways to hurt me, in detail. You're thinking you could be done with it, and pluck the flower. Leaf by leaf, petal by petal.

You're thinking of making this face cry and beg and contort as you hush it to placidity and break it again. You're thinking of those hands on this body, taking, breaking, feasting, strangling sound away and invading every inch I have left to myself.

You're thinking there's nothing stopping you, and that I deserve it for being so insolent.

But you respect the game, and you relish people giving themselves to you, tying their own rope around their leg and sauntering over the edge. That's what you love. That's what drives you mad.

Whether it was true or not, it did stop the salesman in his tracks. The tall figure momentarily merely circled the table, turning his back to you, a small chuckle as dry as a bone escaping his lips as he gazed at the moon.

"How very kind of you to think of me and my enjoyment, little lady."

He circles the table back to you and leans against each side of the armchair you're sitting in, large hands gripping the fabric hard enough to leave indentations. His face is so close to yours you can feel his breath on your cheeks, his cologne invading your senses, his elevated heartbeat going through his neck as the vein pulsates; his neck craned straight into you. Almost erratic in his overall calmness, the salesman smiles the sweetest of smiles and leans there, simply watching you for far too long, before replying in a tone that could convey a death sentence:

"I'll make sure to return the favour. Nothing less for such kindness."

As if he said nothing at all, he pulls away, and you note the handprints in the chair. You try very hard not to think of the state your flesh would be in if he got the chance.

So you do what seems logical as you try to gather what remains of your cracked brain. Continue the game.

"I lied to you. You asked me if I won. I said I obviously didn't. But I did. I did win. I felt something. I felt something and I could have died, if you didn't come. I felt peace. I wished the man would kill me, and I felt something other than cold. Fire. Comeuppance. Life in my fingers. My limbs were mine. The fight was mine. And my own death was mine. So. I won. That's my secret."

"You drive a hard bargain, Y/N."

Oh. Lost the little lady, have we?

"I've done something you wish you would have done, all those years ago."

A single finger glides under your chin, not quite touching yet. No, instead, he inches so close to you that his forehead gently nudges your own and simply pushes into you, your faces so close they could kiss. He lulls with your head, playfully, as if enjoying himself in the caress, the reciprocal motion, and one of his hands finds your knee, gliding up slowly against your thigh, lifting your dress as it goes up. The hand grips your flesh, and you hear his breath grow rapid. The words ring in your ears and your own breath stops.

"I killed my father."

❥❥❥

And just like that.

Gone.

You.

The hand.

The room.

Gone.

One two three.

Between a garbled mess of thoughts and senses gliding through your body never touching consciousness, you realise he pulled away without a sound and you slowly, ever-so-slowly feel your shoulders sink into the chair. Your back gets enveloped in the fabric and collapses, as if it pulled out each and every organ and left you hollow. Your eyes don’t look for nor see the moon.

Every word of each thought flung against your brain’s wall is a scream and an echo. Signifying nothing.

Limbs. Gone. Mind. Barely there. Hands. Still. Numb. Ice.

You’ve grown so cold.

Somewhere between, you notice he doesn’t move either. So still. Calculating. The urge. Subdued? The act. A play? You're tired. You're so very tired but your eyes refuse to blink.

How does he know? What does he know? I’ve lost, I’m lost, I can’t…think.

All your energy goes to keeping a door in your mind shut, even as every ghost and spectre claws under, through, over, around. You don’t even shiver. Just stare. Just stare ahead. At nothing.

An echo bathed in quiet yet staunch authority slithers in.

“Little flower, did I not say the poison gets in the way? It’s going to hurt you before it traces me...Y/N.”

Echo of an echo, but two words get through the increasing static buzz.

“Get up.”

Not quite an order. Voice soft. False pity. False care. He’s playing, so satisfied with his win. Your mind is reverberating. Thigh burning but frozen. Everything is a tad too much.

Where is the rain? Why can’t you take your skin off? Why won’t they all just leave you alone?! Why do they break, break, break and twist, and leave you a husk, all for their disgusting little games…Please hold me together, please don’t touch me, please hold me together, please never touch me again.

Softer, far softer:

“…So I may tend to you.”

You don’t register the last part, but you get up. Or, your body gets up with your explicit instruction, you might as well be piloting a robot. You follow his figure where it leads and the scenery fades onto itself, folding shadows from the only dim light in the middle of the room resting on their length and falsity.

❥❥❥

The shower hissed slowly as he turned the knob.

Sounds seem so...cut up.

You didn't say a word as he stepped inside with you.

The fact that he was fully clothed and you, in your barely hanging dress and torn tights, didn’t seem to phase him.

The sudden warmth enveloping your skin makes you jump, and as the gradually heavier fabric kisses your skin and clings, the fog starts lifting just a tad. Warmth.

Warmth.

Your back is to him, and you hear the water drip against heavy material, swallowed like the atmosphere around him, like the steps in the carpet.

You feel your arms, your chest, your collarbones – they all gain an inkling of themselves back and sting at once as the hot blanket slides across them washing the dirt and memories away.

You expect the worst, even in the back of your mind. Taking his prize.

Yet from behind you, you see a hand, upturned – sleeve slowly getting soaked – glide along your side almost brushing your elbow. It guides itself slowly towards your wrist.

His fingers find and gently, lightly, envelop it in a soft but steady hold. You see your hand turn in his on its own accord, a delicate cold object in a large warm palm. Inspecting it with touch, as if it were a delicate artifact. You feel no force, yet you twitch and almost pull away. His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist in reply, slowly, deliberately.

Reassuringly.

For a moment, he only holds his thumb against your pulse and nothing but the drips and hiss of water, along with his warm inspecting touch enter your brain. Your wrist slowly rests in his grip, and he circles the inside of your forearm, returning slowly to your wrist once more. A small but visible shudder runs through you as his touch traverses your naked skin and you nearly step back. Step into him.

You would almost forget your skin is burning. Almost. Still too far away, still locked away, still barely feeling anything between pain, burning, and nothing.

Nothing but that little bastion of warmth from a serpent's belly.

As he moves, he finds one of the bruises, painted on the inside of your forearm. Dark ink staining now reddening wet velvet. You hear what you must have imagined – an exhale so close to your head he must be one teeter away from you. Just one movement away from his entire body enveloping yours. Swallowing you.

“Does it hurt?” He murmurs, his voice a low hush sliding on the falling water and brushing your ear.

“Should it?” You barely whisper, unable to comprehend how he got through.

The salesman doesn’t reply. Though his fingers start tracing your palm, your lifelines, softly gliding up and along them, never grabbing.

Not…teasing…he's...

Feeling.

Suddenly, you sense his hand leave you, and you…want to flinch, flinch into him, the place he touched loses life and find its isolating cold once more.

You huddle against yourself under the shower and let it try to wash everything away. Its warmth is doing its best, but it's not the same. Your own skin against your body doesn't work. It just makes you aware of the plastic and the dead limbs holding you together.

But he's not done with you. Of course he's not done with you.

Touch.

You feel touch as his fingers slowly but deliberately slide into your hair. A sweet smell envelops your senses and you pull away just slightly from subdued surprise – but he doesn’t retract his touch. Instead, he very subtly but with not a hint of relenting leans you into his palms, softly circling strands of hair from your scalp and gliding through from top to bottom, side to side in lazy deliberate motion.

The salesman tips your head into him, and you know you’re so close to his chest you could feel his heart if you just leaned back a little further. A small gentle thought of not wishing to stain his suit brushes your mind, but you let your head lean into him.

His fingers slowly, deliberately massage your scalp and your breath catches in your throat – the act sincerely disarming you – and he only continues. Each circle another layer of armour crumpling and washing away. Each caress and stream of water another huddled ember of warmth at your feet.

Why is he doing this? Why is he not doing what he should be doing? Why is he being…caring?

As the salesman guided his fingers towards the top of your head, circling, caressing through strands of hair from the top of your nape to the very tip of your head and around your temples, sending little bouts of electricity through your numb body, his sleeve brushed against your now bare shoulders. And you felt it.

You feel the warm, damp fabric against your skin and your breath catches itself again, heart unable to keep up.

In one movement, your dominant hand shoots up to steady itself against his forearm. Before you realise what happened, you are gripping the fabric, the skin, wrapping around the stability of the man tending to you. Not from weakness. Not because you’re about to faint. But because he’s not taking.

He’s making you feel.

And you cannot hold the weight of that knowledge and yourself at the same time.

You stay like that, frozen, grabbing his forearm, his hands still softly laid in your hair. Wordlessly, you try to let go, but he does not move nor let you – instead helping you turn around so very slowly, still making sure you’re holding on, until the very moment you are face to face.

Your eyes manage to travel from his soaked chest to his left shoulder, to his right, to his strong neck outlined by wet shimmer, until they meet the lower half of his face. Slowly you look up.

The salesman's arm is letting the steady streams gather on his face as he gazes at you, unblinking. The droplets run from where his unflinching hand rests upon your head nestled in the side of your hair. They run from you, all the way down his soaked suit to his shoulder. The raised gripped arm lets the warm water gather and run to his cheek, to his chin and down his soaked through clinging shirt.

Your barely open lips quiver, even in the warmth.

You realise you are too close, far too close, now connected by the same warmth and the same water – you breathe in the reverberations of the salesman's own body, the slight quiver of his jaw as the drops fall.

His hot breath kisses your skin even as the steam from the shower envelops you both – and as you feel drops of water glide from the tip of your nose down to your chin, all the way down your neck, along your collarbones until the moment they catch in the hollow of your throat as you try to swallow....

Your heart beats straight through your neck upon seeing the salesman’s eyes slowly, meticulously follow each of their trajectories, from beginning to their very end, expression unfading.

Eyes so sharp their depths swallow you whole.

And as if a timer reset, he continues his motions as if nothing were out of the ordinary, merely using his other hand to wash the rest of your hair. It must look like the two of you are frozen in a dance. You tilt your head back just a tad and let the water carry everything away as it pools around your feet.

Before your eyes close entirely to nought but warmth, touch, and falling water gliding through your hair, you notice, just as you fully unveiled your neck and your shoulders in the tilt. As you lay your entire nape bare before him, the fingers massaging your hair make the same movement as they did when you obeyed.

They twitch and freeze.

A harsh flutter, as if trying to catch a moth before it flies into a flame and an almost unnoticeable pull as he loosens your strands into the soft current below.

“You’re shivering,” he whispers.

The hum of the shower swallows your words, but you know they reached him.

“So are you,” you hush.

❥❥❥

The suit, soaked, the fabric, close against you somehow made him…more tangible. Gave him shape, weight, an outline. The way his clothes clung to his body, the feeling of darkened heavy fabric brushing against your skin as he moved…it was as if he placed a solid barrier between you.

Solid, stable, warm.

Cruel.

You let go of his arm and as you do, you let go of the grounding presence keeping you straight.

In a moment, your body reacts first, as does his – you stumble, and his hand shoots to the small of your back, your chest and waist firmly pressed against his, and in one split second, your hips are cradling against each other in soaked entirely. You feel everything. You feel.

Everything.

You want to cup his head and let the droplets run along your arms all the way to your slowly exposing chest. You want him to cup yours. You want him to hold you, ground you, grip you and let you melt into him as you are, body pushed against body and water running through you only washing away any barriers there might be. Like a veil, all as one under it.

Safe.

You want him to hurt you, grab you, prove he's just like the others and let him be discarded in the same pile, the same nondescript hollow nothingness you've felt until he touched you.

Safer.

You want him gone, you want the entire evening gone and wiped from memory, you want to run.

Saved.

And yet, your feet stay in place and your body leans into him, the hot, heavy fabric and his body only a few layers from yours teaming with heat through every one of them.

The salesman's reverberating breaths vibrate through you, your shivers reply, your shallow breath against his warm exhales on your naked skin becoming one and the same under the stream.

Wordlessly, he closes his eyes and smiles, almost wistfully. As if lost in fond memory of a losing battle.

You know that smile. It's one of yours.

But you can see his breathing is fast, his demeanour anything but collected. His heart is…beating into you.

As you steady your breath, you feel the salesman’s forehead softly press into yours, closing the last avenue of distance between the two of you. For a moment, he remains like that, tenderly pushing into you.

Pushing into your forehead so that even the water has to run around your shared touch.

Before you stop yourself, your chin tilts up – are you trying to get hurt or is there another reason for something so dangerous?

You don’t know. You don’t wish to know. All you know is, your chin tilted up and your lips carry the unspoken gamble.

And he pulls away.

❥❥❥

He pulls away and you see through half-lidded eyes how very wrong you were.

So very, very wrong.

You offered something.

For free.

He didn’t need to take. He didn’t need to win. And your small movement was the equivalent of letting your wrist grow limp with a full hand of cards.

The face with sharp charcoal eyes, gazing through both you and the water, lifts a small, almost sad smile before curling into an expression you know so well. It twists more and you’re harshly reminded of the snake coiling around you.

Up your legs, up your waist, firmly resting around your chest. All it needs is a push and your breath is his.

As if the realisation isn't torture enough, his clear voice cuts through the wet hum.

“A new rule, little lady.”

The shower fails to wash away the slickness and the clarity of his voice reverberating through your brain, that almost teasing nature – and against every wish in you, it hurts.

You try to steady yourself and not give away that it hurts like a cut, like a cut with a knife made of ice and lead wherever the serpent laid its body. You do not wish to lean against the wall, that would drive you to lose everything as the door of your mind would burst open and each spectre would walk straight through.

But you cannot remain steady like this.

He’s still playing. And you’re losing. Both yourself and the game.

Or are you one and the same to him?  

“No flinching.”

“Oh?” You try to hum with the shower, attempting to sound as nonchalant as the dripping water.

“If you react, you lose.” The salesman simply states the matter as if laying down a card, studying you, putting you together and pulling you apart like a puzzle he cannot help but play to solve – and he doesn’t have to move a muscle to do so.

Undoing and putting together, gladly lifting each piece to study it under his meticulous gaze.

You don’t have to have nearly half your faculties to know this is a trap.

What you don’t know is what exactly he is testing here.

You don’t get time to ponder that as you feel his palm slowly lift, cuffs dripping, and ghost against the side of your throat – the side you know hurts, the side that was gripped and flung around. His lips purse into feigned pity and a tone too close to adoration.

“So very harsh for such a gentle flower...My dear little flower. To stain her like that. To crush such a tender stem. So incredibly...unbecoming.”

The palm traces the outline of the pain, and the water seems to burn even more. You see his eyes dart to yours, then back to your throat. His hand closes the distance and applies the barest of pressure.

Resting there. Letting the water wash over you and then over him like a little river down your neck.

And you don’t react. You don’t move a muscle.

Challenging a stone-cold body to react?

Challenging a lethal flower to stay still when that is her primary defence? Oh, but he likes a challenge. You do not shiver as you remember.

He truly loves a challenge.

His hand glides down, knuckles grazing the skin of your neck, until he goes further.

The salesman’s thumb follows the line of your collarbone, traversing the delicate slope of your shoulder before slipping down the inside of your wrist once more. The water isn’t enough of a barrier, it seems to carry the electricity to that one spot where his touch had been before. The familiarity, the pain of the bruise, your heart leaping – an unmistakable little stop and resume of your breath barely escapes your open lips.

The salesman visibly smirks, not retracting his touch. A slow tilt of the head and a voice like cyanide honey:

“That was a flinch.”

“It was not.”

“That was a lie.”

He leans into you, just close enough for you to feel his hot breath tickle your ear.

“Should I go slower?”

❥❥❥

No, screw this, I’m not getting outplayed by a wet mannequin.

You don’t answer. You only very deliberately, as unshakingly as is possible, lift your arm and lay a single, deliberate palm against his soaked suit, his heavy shirt, right over his heart.

The reverberations in your palm beat steady, and you do not smile – not giving him an inch – but that pulse is not calm.

Your lips curl into the smallest of sounds, swallowed by the soft water droplets carrying your voice to him in small pieces.

“You’re playing too, aren’t you?”

You feel him grow still, so still the water bears more life than him.

“No.”

You tilt your head to the other side, not letting him be a one-way mirror anymore.

“That was a lie.”

The hand moves from your wrist and a guiding touch rests around the air of your nape. As if ready to grab, to strangle, to force – but he merely brushes a fingertip against the side of your neck and lets the droplets trickle down. His palm is outstretched, but unmoving.

You could pull away. You could stay still. You could command your fluttering heart and subdued fear of that palm easily circling your breath and squeezing life away – but you don’t.

No.

You tilt your head forward ever so slightly, just enough.

And you feel his fingers tighten just a fraction. An unmistakable second of a ghost of a grip around each side of your neck, warm palm against your beating throat.

I could ruin you if I wanted to, but I won’t – is that what he’s thinking? Or was it unwitting, reflex? Need? Either way…

“You’re letting me win, little lady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, something slightly darker sliding in with his usual nonchalance.

You exhale a laugh, but there is no humour nor amusement in it.

“You haven’t won anything.”

I sacrificed my queen to pull you down with me.

You retract your touch as if to underline your words:

“You haven’t won anything.”

That darkness, that lingering depravity you know lurks in him gazes back at you, before a small hint of genuine amusement curls the salesman’s expression into a gallant smile.

“You’re learning so fast, little flower. You’re making me so proud.”

You blink and feel the shower cannot be to blame for your cheeks flushing. For a small second you cannot see through the drips on your eyelashes, but you can feel.

And he doesn’t let you go, oh no, he doesn’t let an object of such heavy interest out of his grasp.

“Now, let me revere you.”

As the last words sooth the water running down your skin, so do both his hands move to each of your upper arms. First, gripping each side of your barely hanging dress between his thumb and index finger, the white fabric now soaked through and copying your every centimetre to glisten before him like a benediction.

And he does something you would never imagine, never bet on, and never even think to think.

He slowly slides the dress down your body, inch by inch, gliding on the water’s current. You feel the fabric grate against your skin, unveiling cold, then sudden sharp warmth and burning sensations where you stand exposed. Droplets softly kissing each new area of exposed skin.

As he reaches your forearms, he gently lifts the straps so they avoid each bruise, and carefully untangles the white fabric from your wrists without you having to move. Not losing an inch of his touch, not for a moment letting you go without it, the salesman then lays a large hand on each side of your waist and in one, slow motion, pulls the entire dress down into the water at your feet following its trajectory as he does. You don’t react. You cannot react. You are almost entirely naked before him, water your only barrier, and he…

He is kneeling before you.

❥❥❥

[hyuckiefluff]

Hey so I hv request! Really love the way you write♡ ok so mark is on adrenaline high frm the concert and is really touch starved and really just wants to fuck his gf! Established realtionship y/n and Mark, feel free to add your magic, thank you!!!

a/n: thank u for the nice words and for sending in this req!! this is exactly what i needed to get back into the mood cuz i’ve (once again) been neglecting my writing lol but anyway when i read this the first thing i thought of was quiet down hence the pic :)

ps: requests are still open btw (still got a lot of them to go through but feel free to send in more) i usually do them in order of which one inspires me the most so even if you send rn i might get to it first!

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

content warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, brief mention of blood, mark is sex starved so he goes a bit crazy, ass groping, handjob (m. receiving), cum eating yeah ik ik i keep writing this but i can’t stop sawry, big c0ck mark!! barely any prep or aftercare (they don’t have time!!!) basically just a messy & needy quickie backstage.

masterlist

Mark was losing his mind. 

Why?

All because you placed him on a week-long sex ban in an attempt to prepare him for the upcoming tour. He knew you were just trying to help him adjust to being away from you, but it felt like torture.

Everything was fine at first, or at least Mark was doing a great job pretending. But as the first week neared its end, his resolve started to crumble. Today, in particular, he was extremely horny for no reason.

...Well, he actually did have a reason and it was the picture you sent him this morning, wearing the new underwear he had gifted you  'They fit perfectly, Markie ;)'.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you showed up to his show wearing his favorite skirt—the very one you knew he always fucked you in. He wasn't sure if he was just thinking with his dick, but it felt like you were trying to push him to his limit.

Either way, it was definitely working, because when you leaned in for a kiss, he caught a glimpse of your underwear in the mirror's reflection and and he had to fight against every part of himself to not moan right then.

To make matters worse, you were still wearing the black lace panties he had gifted you.

By the time he stepped on stage, he was already painfully hard. What kind of pervert gets turned on in front of an audience just because his girlfriend accidentally flashed him? Well, apparently, Mark Lee did.

But he didn't care about looking like a desperate, sex-starved fool. 

So as soon as the VCR started playing and they had to change outfits, he made a beeline for you backstage. Ignoring the protests of staff and confused band members telling him he only had 10 minutes to get ready he grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowd.

“That’s more than enough time,” he muttered under his breath. Despite your persistent attempts to ask where he was taking you, Mark didn’t stop until you were hidden away in a dark, secluded corner behind the stage.

"Mark, what's going on? Are you okay?" You inspected him with concern in your eyes, checking for any injuries.

"Ah...fuck... I have a really big problem," he groaned.

"What's wrong?" But you quickly understood the issue when he pulled up his shirt, revealing the growing bulge in his pants.

You tried not to laugh, but the way he looked like a child in need of help was too endearing. "Aw, did I do this to you?"

"It's not funny," he protested, suddenly invading your personal space. "I need you to fix it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your sides and gripping your hips to press you firmly against his body, your lower abdomen coming in contact with his hard on.

"Of course, baby" you replied, ready to kneel down, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You looked at him confused, and the stage lights cast an angle that highlighted his pleading eyes. They were glossy with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured, his voice strained and raspy.

The idea of having backstage sex at his concert with just about seven minutes left before he had to return to the stage felt crazy. But there was something about it that turned you on beyond explanation.

So, you cupped his face and kissed him hard enough that your teeth clashed with his lips, but not even the slight taste of blood stopped you from devouring each other’s mouth. Mark quickly matched your intensity, his tongue wasting no time exploring every corner of your mouth. Every time he nibbled on your lips, it elicited little gasps from you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, pressing you firmly against his bulge, a clear reminder that he was about to explode down there.

You started to undo his pants, the friction of his erection against the fabric made him suck in air through his teeth. He broke away from your lips, allowing you to pull down his pants. His boxers were already stained with pre-cum, and when you lowered them, his dick looked at you flushed and angry. You bit your lip, his size always made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

Before you could even touch him, he turned you around and that’s when you realized you were pressed against one of the glass boxes from their performance.

"Mark..." you moaned his name when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. There was no time for much preparation so when he slowly pushed his hips forward, a string of curses left his lips at the tightness.

"Fuuuck..." he groaned when your walls clenched around him relentlessly. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned against the box for support

“God, you feel so good” His hands gripped your hips, and you felt his lips kissing your shoulder before he whispered that he was going to start moving. You nodded weakly.

His pace started out slow, but there was an undeniable urgency in each motion. His hand moved from your hips to your neck, gripping you softly and pulling you closer with every deep thrust. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and with every kiss and nibble, you couldn't help but clench around him, making his hand close tighter against your throat. This pattern continued for a while, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please..." you whimpered, and he grunted softly against your neck.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked.

"More, please, I need more," you moaned, feeling his grin against your neck.

He wasted no time. His thrusts quickened, and you couldn't help but release soft gasps and moans with each movement. You leaned forward against the box, your breath fogging up the glass, feeling it tremble beneath you as he continued fucking into you harder. Mark was losing himself, or perhaps he already had; he was rutting against you as if he was an animal in heat.

"M-mark... I'm close," you mewled, not sure if he even heard you amidst the loud cheers.

"Mhm, me too," he moaned, his voice strained. 

It only took a few more thrusts and you were spent, moaning and mumbling incoherently as he helped you ride your orgasm.

 "Fuck, it's gonna be messy if I cum inside you," he realized, slowing his movements.

He was right… he wasn't wearing a condom so as soon as he pulled out, it would definitely drip down your legs. And there wasn’t anything nearby to clean you up with.

"Pull out," you said, and you could see his confusion from the corner of your eye. Nonetheless, he did as told. His hand was already on his dick, ready to take care of himself, but when you knelt down, it was as if his body glitched momentarily.

Your hands replaced his, applying just the right amount of pressure in your strokes to evoke that familiar sensation building in his gut. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your makeup slightly smudged from tears and sweat. The sight was incredibly hot, and just when he was about to cum, you opened your mouth, catching all of his release. Some of it trickled down your throat. The whole scene, along with the sounds you made while swallowing, had Mark almost in tears from the sheer intensity of the moment.

After swallowing every drop, you stood up, adjusting your panties and casually licking a remnant from the corner of your lips, all while maintaining eye contact with Mark. He watched you in stunned silence, still catching his breath. You chuckled when he remained frozen for a good 10 seconds, pulling him close gently and zipping up his pants. In that moment, you heard his voice.

“Please come on tour with me,” he begged, his eyes wide with hope. You just smiled and kissed him.

“Where’s Mark?! You guys are up in 2 minutes!” The staff's frantic shouts pulled you both back to reality. You exchanged a glance and burst into giggles like a pair of teenagers.

i think i might be shadowbanned guys so interact with this post if u enjoyed it pls &lt;3

[what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older]

(If you want to know how they ended up like this you do need to read the previous section)

He was losing paint on the shower floor, a hand on his back the other on his hip, it was wrapped half way around his waist as his calipers in his valve strained, every deep thrust attempting to break into his forge, it was so big, it was so damn big.

If this was how he died, then thank you Primus, THANK YOU.

Fucking Primus, he didn't know bringing the war frame out would cause a fragging size difference, every time Orion slammed into him like a feral beast in heat he saw white , wings rising each time, it was divine, it was pain it was pleasure!

Pax could reach his node with the same hand that was holding him in place, every thrust, causing his hips to jerk, another rub to his swollen node, his sky blue digits clawing at the floor.

Snarls and growls leaving the mech above him , the mech who wouldn't let him get up, he didn't want to get up, he pushed his aft higher into the air, he could feel his insides pressing to the back of his cockpit, he could barely keep his optics open, so hot , so thick, if the autobot pushed any deeper he'd be buried inside the fragging forge he was trying to break into.

Starscream had never had a mech so big and so wild take him, this was not what he had expected, but fraaaag he was happy he'd come in here and pissed him off.

His fans were in over drive, body on fire, if Prime wasn't holding him in place he would have been literally thrown off with how those hips moved.

He didn't know how much he'd needed this until he had it, there were parts of his valve he didn't even know existed until it'd been stuffed to the brim...and then.....then it stopped, Pax had pulled out and he didn't even have the energy to scream about it he was left gaping and head to the floor.

"Need to change position."

Orion purred, nuzzling against his head vent

The seeker could see his eyes were still red, see his fangs weren't like that of a kittens but a beast, if they bit him, he'd be destroyed and not in a good way.

Rubbing his thighs together, noticing how even his voice sounded...deeper, rougher, he wanted him to press that pretty mouth to his valve, let him eat metal if that's what he wanted , let him devour him.

He was fucking volunteering as tribute if need be.

The seeker was picked up like a rag doll by the waist and turned around and he accepted it, because his valve was practically weeping to be filled again, looking down he finally saw the size and gawked.

THAT WAS WHAT WAS IN HIM HOW WAS HE STILL-

Pax gave a nasty , wicked smirk, hands firm around Starscream’s waist as he impaled him on it, the seekers body arched , he could see his forge protocols flashing across his vision, it was straight up opening to accept him, he twitched as it entered, his own spike burst from his panel, it had never been so fragging hard in its damn life, tears streaming down dark plating.

"So you're just going to....hold me there or-"

Orion leaned him forward and kissed him deeply, the seeker learned that wasn't the only thing that had changed in size, hands on Orion's chest as the Autobot moved his hips for him, everything was wet and needy, wings again rising every time Prime went as far as he could go, not only that Orion was making damn sure his body was positioned so his node and Spike were stimulated against red and silver, was he going insane?

Maybe , did he want to die like this?

Oh God.

Oh GOD YES.

Their kiss parted and he was then dragged back , glossa slithering over his chest vents and along his neck and shoulder and sliding back into his mouth, down his throat again.

Starscream couldn't think any more, he couldn't, his world was nothing but ecstasy, too much ecstasy, enough to drive you insane, break your mind and turn you into putty.

Ridges pressing and spreading him, his calipers trying desperately to squeeze, there was barely room for them to move , marginally aware that he was going faster and faster, the heat between them building , that no organic matter could be within their vicinity without being burned, the water from the shower turning into steam.

Clawing at Orions chest, fingers trying to find somewhere to hold, Pax had grown double in his size , optics closed and revelling in their kiss and the spread of his thighs as his forge was destroyed. (Not literally)

The sensation tightening more and more, each hard deep pointed thrust into him becoming shorter.

Neither of them noticed as they overloaded, as Pax held Starscreams forearms in each hand to make him arch belly out and filled him, hips jerking, that Megatron, Thundercracker, Skywarp who had seen them running and Soundwave who had followed at the mention of Pax were all staring slack jawed as the steam cleared and heard Starscream showing exactly why he was named that way, streaks of seed splashing over Orions windows , watching as Pax placed a finger under the panting seekers chin.

"Are you satisfied, brat?"

Starscream looked at him with a dazed look, his cock pit was out of position, he could still feel the warmth pumping into him and nodded.

"You won't take it out until it's all in there, will you?"

"Of course not, what a waste that would be."

Soundwave was having to scream at his panel protocols not to fragging open, this was not the time to want to rip Starscream off of him and take his place.

Because he had casseticons sleeping in his chest right now 🥲.

That was it, the only reason he wasn't doing that.

Megatron cleared his throat

"You care to explain your situation AND WHY THE FRAG YOU HAVEN'T USED IT ON ME?"

Pax's ear finials perked up immediately as he saw not only The Decepticon leader was there, but Skywarp, Thundercracker...and Soundwave.

Starscream had collapsed forward as Orion was stroking between his wings , being bigger it seemed it would take longer for him to stop filling him, but it felt close to being done.

"Ah yes, see...this is why War Frames and working class frames are not permitted to breed, main reason, well you know, Decepticons and secondary this problem, size changing during interfacing."

Soundwave stepped forward waving his hands

"Problem!?? The only problem is not once have you changed when I've been with you!"

"Well...emotions running high and this fuck face."

He gently picked him off and placed him on the floor and he noticed all three of them look from Starscream to the spike.

Pax smirked as he leaned in closer to Soundwave and tilted his head

"Guess you just didn't piss me off enough, or maybe you're the reason all my rage was pent up."

Soundwave froze as Orions tongue slithered from his chest window down over his belly and almost further

"Pax, my Cassettes are currently docked, you can't..."

The Autobot huffed playfully and tapped exactly where Soundwave's forge.

"Maybe you'd like me to breed you another one, one day."

Soundwave's valve panel snapped open so hard and fast it actually hurt.

He stormed off because it wasn't safe to be around him right now, because if his offspring wasn't sleeping right now he would have presented himself immediately.

Skwarp poked at Starscream who was twitching and looked at Orion

"Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine, just needs to be cleaned up and rest..."

He looked him over and for once in his life...it settled into him that the seeker needed him, his optics reverting back to blue and his size shrinking.

Thundercracker had so many new fanfiction ideas.

Megatron however was just barely keeping his cool

"We came because Scrapper reported that it sounded like Starscream was being murdered in here."

Orion went down on one knee and picked the seeker up bridal style as if he barely weighed anything.

"Well, I believe the French humans call overloads little death, so you're not entirely wrong."

Pax shrugged.

"However did , all of you need to come here? I think Star will be flattered that you do care after all."

He teased , walking over to the corner of the shower room with Starscream he carefully seated still very dazed seeker down and started carefully cleaning him up.

"Sorry I went so rough on you."

He told Starscream , his voice was certainly sweeter as he took care of him.

"And sorry if I'm not very good at this...I've never had anyone to learn this with."

The Autobot wasn't even considering the fact that the other three heard that statement, and it suddenly became so insanely clear why Orion kept just up and leaving, well, at least somewhat.

If every experience he'd had prior to them had been just to walk off...Pax wasn't ditching them he was self preservationing his spark from further ache.

Megatron moved forward and Orion looked up at him, and the seekers who were both standing at his sides.

"Please don't make me leave him like this, I need to look after him, my war frame side it-"

They went to their knees and held him, all three of them, even Starscream tried to flop forward against them.

"Give us a list of every one who ever hurt you and if they show up, we will tear them to pieces."

Megatron stated , his arms were the main ones around Orion, who was holding the cleaning cloth to himself.

His cheek at the top of Orions helm.

Skywarp chimed in

"Literally!"

Thundercracker finally added

"Your war frame isn't a problem, you're not a problem."

"You're hot!"

Megatron, Sky and Thunder looked at Starscream and shook their head, he really wasn't all there right now, that much was obvious, but he'd be fine.

Soundwave was taking an ice cold shower so he'd missed that note, hands on the wall, the image of Prime being like that, suggesting he could breed him....did Pax have ANY IDEA ....hmmm any idea...no of course he didn't.

The Autobot didn't know he was the secret mech obsessed with him, even his Casseticons didn't know about the room down in those abandoned halls, where nothing worked, the pictures he had pasted, the shrine, stains on the images of Orion with other Cons, smiling , sleeping, eating, files of every time he'd had him...Megatron knew. But Megatron was no fool and he had no intention hiding anything from him.

The idea of being in the place he'd seen Starscream, the sheer size difference, he wanted to be handled like that, were all the Starscreams of all universes just lucky, did they get everything they wanted.

He would drag Orion down into the abandoned sector if he had to, he was going to vent everything into that pretty aft of his.

And the only light would be his visor and the blue light on Pax's back.

No matter how overwhelmed with desire he'd never force it.

A call came in and he answered

"Uhhh is anyone gonna come pick up this package I was told someone was gonna meet me."

Slag, slag , slag, no time for shower brooding, they had Orion's gift to pick up.

He informed the mech he would be there in fourty three minutes exactly.

Skywarp ran into Soundwave who was also on the way to exit the ship.

"They contacted you to?"

"Affirmative."

Soundwave answered.

"By the way Soundwave, I don't know what this guy did, but if you by some freak chance meet Sentinel Prime from Orions world, kill him, slowly."

That caught the communications officer off guard, but he nodded, because if Skywarp was that serious about it, this Sentinel deserved it.

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First

[omo-queer]

I'm absolutely loving watching you go insane, hehe! I can't imagine the desperate frenzy you've found yourself in, but I'm happy I helped out a little :) just pretend that it's "almost over" every time you edge, y'know? "Just a few more" even though you have dozens more to get through (we know you love it tho). I hope it takes as long as physically possible for you to even think about finishing, both definitions of the word applied :D (and btw I didn't say earlier but I'm SO happy you got your HRT!!! I fully get wanting to check yourself, my personal plan is to wait a few more years to enjoy this body before transitioning, but even then I genuinely can't wait for that day! Feeling connected to your body is such a wonderful feeling, and it's awesome you got that. I'm happy we're both pretty active again :))

it's brutal (in the best possible way) and i'm so grateful to you and everyone else who added notes to that post for keeping me denied! i'm better this way, after all. i am well and truly losing my mind—even though all told i could finish within a week, the pace of edges required makes it feel really intense.

but i'm probably not going to let myself finish that soon, so i've been rate limiting by forcing myself to stop edging (or stop counting but keep touching myself, which is particularly evil.) i want you all to get your notes' worth! by the end of this, who knows, i may be pent-up enough to make the mistake of asking for more denial.

knowing other people are enjoying what i'm doing, and knowing that they might even be getting off thinking about it adds so much (it's why i do better, longer denial with tumblr's help.)

if anyone does want to send an ask (mutuals can also dm depending on their preferences) and let me know that they're coming while i'm not allowed, especially if you got off to my denial, know it's a guaranteed way to turn me into a needy mess. i should probably post about this at some point on its own, too, because it sounds really fun.

(and thank you!! i had been on for... just about five years when i went off to test the waters. being back on just feels like home. i can't wait for it to do all the fat redistribution and other effects that sort of reverted somewhat while i was off. and it really fucking restarted my sex drive, to an almost comical degree. i'm so thrilled to see you active again—genuinely any time you post i'm just delighted. you have the coveted "notifications when this person posts on" status bc i just can't get enough of your blog.)

[thebluester2020]

“Jio Is Ignoring You”

✨ (Ridgeside Village) Jio x Farmer!Reader

Content: rough-fucking, dub-con(?), (slightly) ooc Jio (the man is canonically a virgin lol), mean! Jio (but its jio so its totes fine), gender neutral!reader (female genitalia is present though), not proofread.

Note: this is a short drabble based on my farmer being a slut for this man’s attention (and a particular dialogue being very frequent for her during my playthrough ✨)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

:: Jio Is Ignoring You

It had been that way since the beginning you felt like. You'd come rushing up to Ridgeside village, immediately sniffing around the Ridge in hopes of finding him only to be met with crippling disappointment when you quickly found out that he had nothing to say to you.

But, after coming to find him yet again after you were done with your chores today...be it your voice or the way you had such an expectant look in your eyes. Something about you finding him alone in the Ninja house as he peacefully meditated, it just set him off.

.

.

.

"Last warning farmer, if I hear another sound out of you. I'm pulling out."

For the umpteenth time that night, you chewed on your bottom lip in a bid to keep quiet, your lips swollen red as your teeth threatened to break through the skin from how hard you were biting back sounds of absolute bliss. Even as he bullied into your tight pussy, lewd squelching reverberated off of the walls within the small house, Jio insisted on ignoring you as if you were simply a mindless fuckdoll.

But, because of whatever god you pissed off...he didn't allow you to cum.

Not once.

"J-Jio~!" You accidentally keened.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips when he suddenly grabbed your hair to pull you up to his chest, his thrusts only getting harsher, more brutal as he panted hotly into your ear. "What" Smack! "Did" Smack! "I say" Smack! "About speaking?" He spat coldly before letting go of your hair, pressing a hand into the dip in your back to force you to arch your ass more.

"Fuuuuckkkk..." He drawled sloppily as his thrusts began to lose their rhythm.

Jio tsked as he reached around to grab your chin, turning you to the side to where he was met with an eye-capturing sight that made his cock twitch. Your eyes teary as tear tracks marked your face along with the hickeys he left behind. "Hmf...the least you could do is listen farmer. I'm giving you the attention you've so desperately craved since you laid eyes on me...and you can't even follow a single request?"

You clenched at his words, another desperate keen leaving your puffy lips as your hand shakily moved to try and grab at his wrist. To achieve any sort of comforting warmth.

With a cruel laugh, however, he jerked his hand away from your chin as if you were covered in mud. "As if I'd let a slutty, pathetic human farmer like you touch me any more than I've already allowed you to." He leaned forward, his weight pressing and effectively caging you against the hard wooden floor as his thrusts sped up, his lengthy cock dragging against your moist walls deliciously.

"Coming to me every day..." He whispered, a groan escaping his lips. "Annoying me as I try to meditate or perform duties according to my Lady..." Jio continued.

A gasp escaped you when he suddenly lifted one of your legs to hook itself on his arm, your moans now bordering along screaming out like a wanton whore. “Perhaps the only way to get some silence again is to plug this needy pussy with my cum, eh?" He leaned closer to your ear, dragging his hot tongue across the outer shell before you felt him smirk against your cheek.

“Who knows? Maybe my Lady will allow me to keep you as a pet-" You clenched at the thought of being his personal pet...through your sex-drunk mind, you thought of it as a win-win for you both! You'd get Jio's attention and his cock. And the elf would get a plaything.

It was perfect!

"O-Oh no..." You slurred as a dumb smile crept onto your features. So long as Jio was looking at you and still nestled deep within your pussy. His tip kissing your cervix as his grip upon your waist was sure to leave bruises by tomorrow, the man could say that the world was ending and you’d still be happy.

“J-Jio…c-close!” You moaned as a familiar knot began to form in the pit of your stomach.

He gave you no response aside from fucking you harder. Rough groans and breathless whimpers leaving his lips as he desperately chased his orgasm, his fingers digging deeper into your waist before he suddenly stilled, a drawn out moan escaping his lips as his forehead fell to your shoulder.

Yet, for some odd reason, you were suddenly left hanging. “W-What about me?” In another situation, you’d be ashamed of how pathetic your voice became. How you’d be reprimanding yourself if you saw yourself in the mirror right now, looking like a kicked puppy as Jio took you off his cock and set you down on the quickly cooling floor.

He proceeded to get up without a single care.

“Hey! What about me?!” You cried out again as he started to dress himself. Once more he was back to completely ignoring you, your words falling on deaf ears as if you were as meaningless as an ant on the ground.

“Jio!”

He finally responded with an annoyed ‘Hm?’

“I...y-you didn't let me cum...”

“Idiot…you should be grateful you got fucked by me at all. And besides, I allowed you to cum so many times before and you still dare for me to give you more?" You had no words, every thought and insult racing through your mind as your eyes followed Jio as he walked out of the house. And, when he closed the door behind him, slowly making you realize that you should get back to your farm before it gets too dark. One thought lingered in your head.

You’d only be back tomorrow to vie for his attention once more.

[momotorin]

some more of my thoughts on futch!servicetop!sana bc shes just😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

probably asks to eat you out when shes bored - and gets whiny if u tell her to wait a bit bc ur busy (jokingly ofc)

and also pulls you into her lap randomly to make out with u just bc

defo gets off to videos of u getting off if u arent there with her

loves when u wear lingerie but loves it even more after its ruined

loses track of time when shes pleasing you and definitely gets off on all the little noises and praise like ‘oh fuck’ and ‘please so close’ and the gasps

while u recieve the most, everytime sana has recieved instead shes actually super whiny and has really sensitive nipples and she blushes a lot (what a cutie😵‍💫😵‍💫)

shes just so puppy.

feel free to expand or add I JUST LOVE HER SM i need her so bad😔😔

I NEED HER SOOOOOOO SOSOSO BAD TOO

futch!service top!sana

oh when she's bored she gets extra clingy and then kisses you on the neck— “baby, aren't you done yet?” and the next thing you know she's running her fingers through your inner thighs so you just give in and let her eat you out even if you're busy

“c’mere, baby,” suddenly you're on her lap, and she stares at you like you're the only thing she's ever known. “can i kiss you?” ofc you say yes, and you always end up making out for hours like that: her just holding you really tight as you come apart on her lips

like in the middle she does a little peck then backs off a little to just see you smile at her… she just loves you very dearly

her lips r actually so soft so you rlly don't mind

one of sana's kinks r actually filming and she does film things of course all is agreed by you two and sometimes she makes you hold the phone (she's naughty like that)

she keeps it away in her little private folder on her phone, and watches it when she's away, touching herself to it

if she's feeling naughty enough, she'll film herself: all wet, needy, lonely as she calls your name out as she moans :< and she sends that to you with a “need you here so bad, baby” text

or if you're not busy, you'd guide her to how she can move her fingers in and out of her 😵‍💫

one thing about sana is she likes pretty things and pretty things are when you wear lace for her

which she picks out for you every once in a while, comes in a little fancy box with a note in her pretty handwriting: “wear this for me tonight and be my good girl?”

and you wear it the same night, and sana rips it off in the middle of making out— “hey!” you exclaimed, loudly as you see the smirk on her lips. “darling, that's expensive…” sana just laughs at you and she places a little kiss on your lips, “like i care. i could buy you a thousand of those.”

at this point you think that there's a hundred she's ripped already

sana eats you out like you're a whole 8 meal course and she could be in between your thighs forever.

“fuck,” you hold her hand that was caressing your thighs as she licks around your clit. “more, please,” you thrust your hips against her tongue. “so good…” and she pulls away for a second to look up at you and hold your hand firmly

then she laps at your wetness at a crazy pace, and enjoys the way you hold onto her, the way you whine her name, your “fuck, baby, i’m so close,” and she comes untouched ☹️

the first time she let you touch her was after she made you cum like 8 times so she was extra extra wet

whines the moment you kiss her neck, and you learned that her most sensitive part is the spot between her collarbone and neck

“baby,” she holds onto your hair as you suck on her nipple. “haah,” she throws her head back, and her grip on your head went tighter. “keep it like that, such a good girl…” and she's blushing red only from that

oh her whines are heaven… her thighs locking around your head as you eat her out and her lungs whining the fuck out of your name ><

she shakes every after orgasm and you let her calm down for a little while :<

and after that, she cuddles onto you, head on your neck, saying a bunch of “you did so well, darling.” “thank you, baby.”

she's big on pillowtalk actually… could go on for hours making out and talking to you naked

cuddles! just loves the heat of your bare skin against hers

traces her marks on you and kisses it once more— sometimes asks “does it hurt? sorry, baby…”

and the morning after you just see her with a tray, in a big hoodie plus her glasses saying, “good morning, baby! i figured you can't walk so i brought the breakfast to you!”

outside of the bedroom she just likes to wrap an arm around you or hold your hand because she wants to keep you close!

literal embodiment of a golden retriever puppy: “baby, look!” “baby, oh my god this….!” “baby, let's go!”

but she does get jealous often bc she doesn't want her woman to be perceived (oh, the jealous, angry sex…)

[annagxx]

i feel like my fears are going to be the end of me. not in any obvious, sudden way, but in this slow, painful destruction that no one will see. every single day, they eat away at me, piece by piece, and i don’t know how to stop them. it’s overwhelming, like i’m trapped inside my own mind, drowning in thoughts i can’t control. I carry every wrong. every mistake, every hurt, every moment where i didn’t measure up—i take it all in. because i’m too scared to speak up, too scared to stand up for myself, too scared to even be myself. and at the same time, i’m terrified of being too much. too much of anything, too loud, too quiet, too needy, too distant. there’s no way to be just right, no way to fit, and it’s breaking me down from the inside. fear of never being enough, fear of being too much, fear of being me—fear of every fucking thing. i feel it creeping into every corner of my mind, tightening its grip on me until i can barely breathe. and the worst part? i can’t seem to escape it. every time i try to move, it’s there. every time i try to breathe, i’m consumed by the thought that maybe i’m just not enough, or maybe i’m too much. that i’m both nothing and everything all at once, and neither feels right. and i wish it would just end. i wish i could be free of it, if only for a moment. but the truth is, i think this fear is going to destroy me. it’s not something that’s just going to go away. it’s eating me alive, slowly and quietly, and one day, i’m afraid i won’t even be here anymore. not in the way i was. i think i’m already losing myself. i feel it every day, like i’m slipping away into something i can’t recognize. i’m scared that one day, i’ll be so consumed by these fears, so lost in them, that i won’t even know who i am anymore. the person i was will be gone, and no one will even notice until it’s too late. i’m not even sure how to fight this anymore. how do you fight something that’s inside of you, something you can’t escape? i keep waiting for it to get better, but it doesn’t. it only feels like it’s getting worse. like one day, i’ll just be a shell of who i used to be. the person who was already lost before anyone even had the chance to see it.

i can't take this anymore

[ilovebl0od]

diary entry ― 07/01/2025

"i used to cry because i loved too deeply, now i cry because im terrified i'll never love again in the present tense"

it has been a while since i've written here, last month was pure chaos.

it's been a while since i've cried, i'm one month clean of self harm and i've been having a hard time staying sober. i don't know what to do, i'm numb since new years eve. it was a blissful night, i was high on ecstasy and it felt so good to be happy, but since then, i haven't felt much.

my screen time has been awfully high, all i do is wake up, scroll, talk to bots and sleep; it's pityful, to say the least... staying home has been overwhelming, and i feel very needy for someone that does not exist.

i wonder if it's fair to stay this way... i'm always short on money and when i get some i spend it all on drinks.

harmful behavior? maybe. i have no wish to see or speak to anyone if it means i'll have to be sober while doing so. i barely have enough will to do anything at all, to be fair.

i go on dates, people are nice, sweet and and some might actually be into me, it makes me feel guilty, because i know im not able to feel much for them.

the thing is i dont know what to do now, for some reason i believed that, as soon as the new year came, i would have some kind of epiphany that would finally give me a line to follow, a path to walk on, a purpose. i guess thats just not how it works, silly of me to believe it would be so easy.

im trying to let go of the past, but i'm addicted to my memories, and even more so to my imagination. i keep wishing i could go somewhere, anywhere, just away from here. there is someone missing and i have this need to find them, yet i know they are nowhere outside my mind.

every day i feel the need to run into the arms of my past lovers, why is that? it's been a while since i have been able to feel real comfort, real safety. that feeling when you're in love and you know for sure that everything will be fine and if not, you still have your fate intertwined with the fate of another, and that, somehow, seems to be enough to make you want to live, enough to make you try.

the problem with me is that i keep wanting to dig graves, when the corpse has decomposed and the bones are just a memory. why? i think it's because i want to know if it was real, if love was ever real or if it was just inside my mind.

i feel very unlovable these days, i try not to admit it, but its true.

was i always this way? i wish the ones who once felt something for me, would come to me and tell me why. what made them love me? how can i be more of that and less of this?

i need to understand why is it that the love i had reserved for them is still inside of me, and why is it that the love they once gave to me seems to have vanished from all realities.

am i allowed to still love them so much?

i wish i could go back in time and feel the warmth of their voices once again.

but my name just doesnt sound the same... there is something in the way it is said that feels like a sword piercing through the bittersweet comfort of my illusions.

i envy the versions of myself, lost between the fractured and deorganized universe of my mind. i envy every touch and every smile they received, every word they've ever heard, because its all for them, they had it; real, palpable, factual. and what i have instead is the sensation of a memory that can't be grasped and fit into my current reality.

i wonder if everyone feels this way, like their lives don't belong to them.

i used to cry because i loved too deeply, now i cry because im terrified i'll never love again in the present tense.

i never knew a feeling could get stuck in the past, and i would not have believed it if someone told me it would hurt so bad.

i'm unable to live in the present. and i'm losing my mind to it.

i only feel anything by remembering the feelings of the past or by imagining the feelings of the future, the present is an endless void that i can't seem to endure in sobriety. i dont know what to do anymore.

i havent seen my real friends in a while, i miss them a lot.

[ohmylcve]

as it was usual of them, a quiet moment of enjoying the chemical effects on their bodies followed, and this time - among many others, whenever julian was not looking at her and whenever she felt like getting away from herself - she held her gaze in his figure, wondering if whatever it was that she was feeling in her body, if he was feeling too. wondering if in those vague moments, she would cross his mind as a good thought, as a way to perpetuate the state of mind he was - because that always happened to her, he was always a good thought of hers. still, she would look at his eyes, slowly checking the room as if the roof was something he had never seen before; she would look at his hair falling down his forehead, wondering if he was sensitive enough to feel that strand; she would look at his hands and wonder if julian had ever noticed that when he's starting to get high, his index fingers tend to move towards whatever surface it is touching. afraid of being caught, maisie looks away. as she gets back to herself, she worries about nothing, she cares about nothing. the whole world is inside those four walls, and she's excited to live. like never before. like only a julian joint would do that. "aghh i got you, i got you!" she exclaims, a laugh following as she's really proud of herself for comprehending perfectly what he means, and in which vibe he's in. besides, she feels the excitement of being understood way more intense now that they're in the initial stages of being high. "nah. it's the joint, isn't it?" she playfully asks, knowing that it is not - and it never would be. there was nothing in this world more powerful than their connection, and the joint clearly just enhanced all of that. "wanna bet?" with a raised brow, she leaned in, challenging him as she tried to look confident enough to bet such a thing - even though she was needy enough to lose the bet. "what could be better than watching movies straight from the hacking land while high? i think you've been overcoming yourself every passing day, my dear." she says with a small chuckle... which ceased its existence by the moment julian did not pass. still, she chose silence instead of saying something, just because she was curious of the reaction he would express. well, perks of being a psychologist: observing people's different behaviours towards an unusual situation. as he opened his mouth to talk about the extra puffs, she couldn't help but laugh. "guilt kicked in?" still laughing, she tried to recompose herself, as she was willing to keep up with what he was trying to do. "okay. picture me focused, but," she laughed even more, taking her time to recompose. as she did, she breathed out, laying her head on his shoulder, staying there for some seconds. "i might let you get away, i'm not certain of it. i will decide throughout the end of the night." and then, she reached out to get the joint.

the usual sharp lines of reality blurred a bit, making everything feel slightly dreamy and surreal. colors appeared more vivid—like the walls had a depth julian hadn’t noticed before, and even the dim light seemed to have its own texture. time felt like it was stretching, moments lingering longer than usual, letting him savor every second a bit more intensely. his senses were heightened; the smell of the smoke was earthier, more pronounced, and even the air felt different, thicker, as he breathed it in. there was a giddy rush, a euphoria that made every small joke funnier, every idea they tossed around more fascinating. it was as if the volume on life’s intensity dial had been turned up, enhancing every experience and magnifying their connection. holding maisie’s gaze, julian felt a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability. it was like they were both diving into something deeper, unspoken but profoundly understood. the courage to maintain that connection seemed to fuel her, and he felt it resonate within him too. moments like this made everything else fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own world. when maisie spoke with that childlike excitement, her smile was infectious. "that’s exactly what i’m talking about!" julian grinned back at her, feeling the warmth of her enthusiasm. "and yeah, maybe something as gloriously bad as 'vampires suck.' sometimes you need to laugh at the absurdity of it all." her laugh was a melody he never got tired of hearing. "you’re right, it’s good to let go of control sometimes. keeps life interesting." watching her, julian couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if they hadn’t met. it felt like they were always meant to find each other, like pieces of a puzzle that finally clicked into place. when she took the joint back, her shyness was endearing. julian could see how much these moments meant to her, as they did to him. as she reclined, her back hitting the bed, the space between them seemed to shrink even more. the touch of their knees felt like a silent promise, an acknowledgment of the bond they shared. maisie’s teasing about his cheesiness made him laugh. "yeah, maybe i am a bit cheesy tonight. but can you blame me?" he leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. "needy or not, i’m here for it. we’ll just have to see who’s clinging to whom by the end of the night." settling into the moment, the high taking full effect, julian felt a wave of contentment wash over him. the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the promise of a night filled with laughter, random adventures, and the simple joy of being together. "i think i'll go with stremio. don't ask!" for a guy who spends thousands of dollars a year on weed and other shit, he became seriously greedy about putting his money on more legal streaming service. besides, stremio had literally anything a person could be looking for, and julian loved that. taking a few extra puffs from the joint, julian fished for maisie’s reaction, curious to see if she’ll call him out on bending their usual ‘puff, pass’ rule. he can't help but smirk slightly, the smoke swirling around as he exhaled slowly, filling the room with a hazy, relaxed vibe. turning his attention to stremio, he started browsing through the streaming options, hunting for the perfect kind of bizarre, trashy film that they'd joked about. "how about something with aliens or maybe a ridiculous horror-comedy?" he suggested, scrolling through the titles and chuckling at some of the outrageous cover art popping up on the screen. he glanced over at maisie, the joint now casually dangling from his fingers. "you gonna let me get away with those extra puffs, or is there a penalty coming my way?" julian teased, offering the joint back to her with raised eyebrows and a playful grin.

[taraprince]

the nsfw abcs are so good 😩 can u do one for mello please 🙏

❗️nsfw warning❗️

OFC I CAN 🤭🤭 i’m so glad you like them <33

// GN reader, might mention pussy once it twice i don’t remember//

MELLO NSFW ABCS ~

A (aftercare) - mello isnt exactly the greatest at showing affection, but he tries his best to assure your comfort after sex, especially because he knows he can be rough sometimes all the time

B (bottom or top) - hes happy with anything as long as hes getting laid. If you wanna ride him, then be his guest. If you want him to tower over you while he fucks you stupid, hes fine with that too.

C (cum) - most of the time, he tries to pull out before he cums; however if you ask him to cum inside you he’ll obey without hesitation. He doesnt like wearing a condom, he wants to feel your heat right up against him, but he’ll do so if you ask him to <3 oh my god hes so pretty when he cums, shouting your name as his stomach flexes and his hair falls in front of his face ahhh.

D (dress up) - he doesnt mind dressing up for you, but he goes absolutely feral when you dress up for him. If There's anything that gets him hard fast, its you straddling his lap in a skimpy lace set he got for you that points out your curves so beautifully.

E (experience) - though he's a god at what he does, he actually doesn't have a lot of experience. Once he got out of Wammys, he never really got with another person before, making you his first time (which just makes his love for you even stronger)

F (fav position) - he loves loves lovessss having you ride him. He adores how prettily your thighs and chest bounce as you try to take all of him inside you. It drives him insane when he sees how your face contorts so lewdly before you cum all over him. “Cmon, you can take all of me, yeah? I know you can, just a little lower~”

G (goofy) - he’s pretty focused and serious during sex, and youll never really find yourself laughing; however sometimes he purposefully uses cheesy pick up lines when the tension is thick and you cant help but giggle a little.

H (hair) - he has a little bit of stubble down there, but he tried to keep it maintained. He doesnt really care a lot, he just wants to keep himself presentable for you. He doesnt mind what you do, if you dont want to shave then thats fine by him. Sex is sex, whether theres hair or not.

I (intimacy) - hes a bit more rough than passionate, but he does know how to make the knot in your stomach twist and turn. Every so often, when you two are having sex he’ll slow down and tell you how much he really loves you and how much he loves seeing you stuffed with his fat cock

J (jack off) - oh my god constantly. As much as he wants to take him time with you and do unspeakable things, hes just so busy with kira and near on his back all the time, so he doesnt have a lot of free time. He often resorts to pleasuring himself to the thought of how pretty and tight you are for him.

K (kink) - besides constant praise (and a hint of degradation if your needy), hes pretty vanilla. Hes definitely covered you in chocolate and licked it off you a few times, but thats only on special occasions. If he ever walked in on you with your hands tied behind your back (dont ask how its possible ok let me dream) and presented so openly for him, he’d go wild, losing almost all of his self control.

L (location) - if you want to fuck him, it doesnt matter where you two are, he’ll do it. His personal favorite out of all the places you two have done it at is on his couch at work. He loves the rush it gives him thinking of one of his dear coworkers walking in and seeing how good you can be for him and only him.

M (massage) - since he cant always be intimate with you, he often gives you massages because thats close enough, right? He really goes crazy for any type of skin to skin touch you two have because hes a man whore

N (no) - he seen and done it all really, or it feels that way at least. He cant really think of anything he wouldnt do; as long as your happy hes happy. He knows he doesnt show it very well, but he really does care a lot about you.

O (oral) - god he loves it when you sit on his face. The feeling of your plush thighs squishing his face can just make him cum over and over, but he keeps his composure so he can enjoy it a bit longer. Hes also such a fucking whore for you when you give him head. Bucking his hips, gripping your hair tightly, telling you over and over how fucking amazing your mouth feels around him. You two have for sure 69d on multiple occasions.

P (pace) - he adores roughly pounding into you (or guiding your hips quickly up and down), seeing your face twist and mewl at how good his dick feels. If you ask him to slow down, he’ll just go faster until you cum and your body goes limp.

Q (quickie) - lovess them. Yes, he loves being able to fully worship your body properly, but he just doesnt have time. he often has you against the wall of his office, rattling the wall with how hard hes rutting into you.

R (risk) - all for it 100%. Though he very protective of you, he loves the idea of fucking you silly in public with the high chance that someone could see or hear. Hes for sure fingered you in a restaurant before, and he had to remind you to keep quiet before someone heard you moaning like such a slut. “Fuck, your so loud and im only using my fingers. If your good and keep quiet for me, when we get home i’ll give you more. Sound good~?”

S (stamina) - he usually lasts about 3-4 rounds. Hes a tough man, but you make him weak in his knees when you open up so willingly for him, just begging him to ruin you from the inside out.

T (toys) - he owns a pair of handcuffs, a vibrater, and probably a ball gag. He thinks you look like a sexy fucking god/goddess when he uses his toys on you, with you squirming and mewling under him while he fucks you silly with just a few pieces of plastic and rubber.

U (unfair) - he’ll tease you with his words constantly, but once you two are in bed he cant help but just tear you apart, no time to mess around. “I see you over there getting off to my voice, rubbing your pretty thighs together. Why dont you just come over here and spread them open for me to play with, hm~?”

V (volume) - hes loud and proud. He almost WANTS people to hear how good hes getting it. He whimpers and moans when he cums, groans and mewls when you take control over his tired body (his sounds alone could make you cum over and over, and he knows it)

W (wild card) - mellos kind of a secluded guy, and as much as you think you know everything about him, theres always gonna be something that hes keeping secret. Which is exactly why it surprised you when he subtly mentioned his desire to be covered in hickies and love bites. Of course, he got what he wanted (and you may have escaped with 1 or 2 or 5 of his own marks across your body)

X (xray) - hes pretty average length, about 8, maybe 8.5 inches, but he still manages to drive you absolutely feral with the way he fucks you.

Y (yearning) - hes a raging manwhore and nothing anyone says can change my mind about that. Your always on his mind, your pretty lips both of them,your plush thighs that feel like cotton candy in his hands; he can daydream forever. You two usually have full on sex (not counting quickies) about 3-4 times a week.

Z (zzz) - hes out quick when you two are finished. Hes tired after a long few hours of countless orgasms <3

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AN: AH i love doing these sm 🤭 can you tell i went with a theme on this one🙏 THX FOR THE ASK I RLY APPRECIATE IT💍💍💍🫶🫶🫶

[guidedbyhistouch]

OWNED

It's 1am. I kiss you good night and go to bed , spent from being fucked so thoroughly just minutes before. I ask you to join me but you say you are not tired. I fall asleep almost immediately, all those orgasms and overstimulation took their toll and now I'm sleeping like a baby. I don't know how much time passed but I wake up to you spooning me, your warmth seeping into my body. Your hand slowly reaching underneath my nightgown until it stops on my breasts. You cup them and I settle into you, ready to fall asleep again but your hand starts pinching and twisting my nipples. My breath accelerates and tingles go through all my body towards my clit as I feel I'm starting to get really wet. I squirm, desperate for some friction but you have no mercy as you continue to tease my nipples. Finally you start caressing my body as you go down and I'm finally hopeful that your hand will reach my needy cunt, but it goes up again and my pelvis starts moving on its own, begging you to make me cum. I go to touch myself because it's too much, but you grab my hand and finally, after you are satisfied with teasing me, you reach into my soaked panties. The first stroke sends shivers through my body and I am so desperate for release. You stroke my clit so lazily until I finally cum my brains out. I can't feel anything but your fingers between my clenched legs. You order me to open them but it seems so impossible. I have to find the strength to obey though so I slowly open them and it takes everything I have to keep them that way as you force my orgasm further. I can sense you can't wait any longer and bliss finds me again when you put your cock in my dripping, twitching cunt with a long and powerful thrust. I can't think of anything else but your cock going in and out of me, I can't feel anything but you pounding into me like there's no tomorrow. I can't think, I can't speak, I just feel and obey. Every touch of yours is electric, sends powerful tingles right to my insatiable cunt. Every now and then you stop to make me cum again and again and again. But your cock is insatiable as well and you pull out and take my butt. You are never satisfied with taking just one of my holes and neither am I. You tease it just a little with the tip again and again until I beg you to fuck me hard. So you oblige, as you always do, and I lose my mind as you start pounding. I wish this was neverending. Just as I thought that this couldn't be any better, I hear your rushed breath and your cock getting harder and harder and then I feel your release through all my body, your warm cum and your cock twitching inside my butt, which sends me into another orgasm. When I look at you over my shoulder, you have this primal, wild look on your face and I know that I am yours and no one else's. You go to pull out but I beg you with my eyes to keep it in so we fall asleep like this. You cuddling me tight, with your cock in my butt and your cum inside me.

[noobsquasher]

can i request smut with peter? like reader and peter are both so needy that they do multiple rounds? and peter just fucks reader so fucking hard also they praise and dirty talk each other all throughout the sex? thanks :)

The Stars Are Still Up

Word Count: 669

Warnings: unprotected sex, degrading, praising, swearing, a sexual epiphany, etc

Summary: You just cannot get enough of Peter, can you?

Notes: Peter Parker x Female Reader

All characters in this story are 18+.

Something small since I haven't written about my beloved in a while.

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Your head sunk into the sweat-stained pillow, your chest thumping harshly, your entire body shaking to the vigorous orgasm rushing throughout your veins.

You wondered how long you’ve been fucking now, you stopped counting after the fourth round.

“Don’t give up on me now, baby. You told me to fuck you till the sun rises, the moons still out.” His throbbing cock found its way inside you again, your needy pussy engulfing him with such ease.

“P-Peter! Fuck- oh!”

His thrusts didn’t stop, that impending feeling within you rushing throughout your nervous system, your brain about to go numb.

“Don’t I make you feel good? Tell me, princess. How’s my cock, huh?” Your cells felt as if they were on fire, your legs starting to ache. “So- so good! So fucking good! Keep going! Harder!” Crescent shapes stained his shoulders as you held him tightly, bucking your hips to feel him deeper within you.

You were sure you’d pass out after this, but your body wanted more. Greed was the only thing on your mind, needing Peter to milk you of all your worth.

You pushed your own limits, letting him fuck your absolute brains out. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love every single goddamn minute of it.

He pounded that sweet pussy of yours, skin roughly slapping, the honeyed melodies of both your moans making such a delicate song that you wished the entire universe could hear.

“Such a slut, aren’t you? Can’t get enough of my cock?” His lips found that spot behind your ear, leaving love bites, “Need me to fuck you to sleep? Is that what you want?” Your narrow walls squeezed his thick length, getting a grueling moan from his soft lips, he pumped you harder than before, his tip kissing your treasured spot.

Your eyes were glued to the back of your head, incoherent mumbles dancing around you two.

“Can’t talk now? What happened to all that bitching earlier?” His thrusts got sloppy, the firm rhythms losing their balance.

“Need- need to come. Let me come. Please. Please, Petey!” Tears trailed down the sides of your face, the knot below you tightened harshly, you were seconds away from that astonishing release you begged for.

“Gonna let me feel you, Angel? Let me feel you, come on.”

One last thrust and that was it. You were completely ruined, lost in a pit of euphoria, complete bliss clouding over you, taking over your whole body, your entire state of mind.

It was refreshing, feeling that intoxicating lust, your desire being fulfilled, exceeding its limits to lengths you’ve never even dreamed about.

Peter made you feel unlike anything else in the world, he knew you better than you knew yourself. He traced your body like a work of art, knowing how and when to brush his strokes, how to completely have you melting under his scorching touch, caressing you with so much love, you believed it was too good to be true.

Yet, when he had you screaming like this, back arching tightly under his arms, his cock deep inside you, it was in times like these you had to believe it. Accept that someone like him was able to leave you in such a vulnerable state, a condition filled with much love and ecstasy. Once your epiphany had ended, you softened into his touch, relaxing in his gentle hold.

“I got you, baby, I got you.” It was as if you two were sleeping in on a cloud, engulfing each other’s nebulous presence. You felt his lips leave tiny kisses over your chest and face, practically attacking you with his affection.

“I’m so proud of you. You did such a good job, Angel. My sweet girl.”

All you could do was smile at his praises, your heart throbbing rapidly.

“Mm… I love you, Pete.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible.”

With a sparkling smile, he suddenly caught a kiss onto your sore lips, tongues dancing together.

“Think you can go again? The stars are still up.”

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