#paragraph kinks

[monsterologist-butslutty]

Not to be all size kink about it but

Seeing your monster's cock for the first time and it's too big??? You're sure it's too big. They warned you it might be too big. "Humans are often a little scared of it" they told you, "It truly may not fit." They even assured you that they would be okay with it if you could never ride them, that there were so many other things you could do together. You still insist on trying. At the very least, you want to see it. They've been playing with you for weeks, but you've never even gotten to see their cock.

So when you see it for the first time and your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open in surprise because their warnings could not have prepared you for this, they're like "really, I totally understand if it's too much" and when your brain comes back online you just laugh at them.

"It may take some time," You admit, "You might have to be patient."

And they try to just casually be like "No worries, I can do that. And if it doesn't work, no big deal." Except you can see the way they twitch when you say it and you know they're fucking thrilled that you're even just willing to try.

So now you're straddling their hips, the head of their cock pressing against your entrance, and you're pressing downward so very slowly, half out of necessity (because jfc youre gonna have to take your time here) and half to tease them, and just the head alone is so filling. It hurts a little but you really, really don't mind.

Beneath you, your monster is panting. You can feel how hard they're fighting to control themselves by how tightly they're gripping your hips. A small part of your brain is worried they're going to manage to break something because they're just so damn strong, but it's a very, very small part and easily ignored.

You're sliding down their length in tiny increments, barely managing a quarter if an inch at a time before you have to stop and let your body adjust, try to relax more. You keep trying to spread your legs wider, as if it might help. Each of your movements makes your monster's cock twitch within you, making your own body clench tighter around them, making them moan and making you whimper. You're so lost in the feeling of being filled and stretched as your body struggles to accommodate them, and in the thoughts of how it will feel when they begin to move and how it will feel when they're fucking into you with wild abandon while you desperately cling to both them and your sanity. You're so lost in all of it that you barely notice when, what might actually be hours later, they're fully seated within you, your hips flush with theirs. You're fighting to catch your breath and wondering, not entirely as a joke, if their cock might be pressing against your lungs.

You're pretty sure you could stay like that forever. You almost think you should because surely if this gets any more intense you might simply die.

But they're whining up at you. Their eyes are nearly black with lust, their lips parted, panting, the sharp points of their teeth just barely visible. They're beautiful like this.

Their hands are fisted in the blankets to either side of your bent legs. You don't remember those hands leaving your hips but when you look down to see where your bodies meet, there are already fingerprint bruises blooming across your skin, even pinpricks of blood where they couldn't keep their claws from digging in, just a little. Your own hands are braced against their stomach. There are shallow divots in the skin there from your nails, but no bruises and no blood.

Your thighs are already sore and tired from controlling your speed, but you manage to ignore it, rising halfway up their length before sinking back down. Have you ever been this wet? Has your core ever felt so tightly wound? That one half-thrust is enough to send you so close to orgasm you're almost afraid to move again.

They ask you if you're all right. You look utterly debauched. Your skin is blotchy with heat and arousal, your breathing is loud, almost gasping, your lips swollen and red from your own teeth digging into them as you worked them inside of you, your own eyes so hazy with lust your monster isn't sure you can actually see them.

You nod. And you giggle, which is unlike you. And you rock your hips again, an even shallower thrust. And the groan they let out tells you just how badly you're teasing them, just how desperate they are to move. That they are controlling themselves for you is so sweet. And it sends your arousal even higher, because you can't help but think about what they might do to you if that control snaps.

They're beautiful like this.

A third time, you move your hips. This time, you lift yourself off of them entirely with an obscene popping sound. You've heard people describe feeling empty before, but you're not sure you've ever truly felt that way until now. You're twitching, desperate to sink back down, and you see no reason to wait.

With one hand, you line them up with your entrance again. They feel good in your grip. That surprises you, you've never been particularly drawn to using only your hands on someone, but now you're half distracted by exploring their cock with your fingertips, tracing each dip and ridge. Their eyes have slipped closed, and a wrinkle has formed along their forehead from concentration and pleasure.

Your monster says please. And you're surprised, because usually you're the one begging. For a split second, the power goes to your head, and you seriously consider saying no. But you want it just as bad as they do.

With a devious smile they can't see, you slip down their length as quickly as you can manage, crying out with a noise you'd be embarrassed to be making if you could think that far. It's not that quick, but it has the desire effect. Their hands find your hips again, squeezing painfully before tearing themselves away, one returning to the blanket the other pressing flat against your back, nearly sending you crashing down against their chest before you catch yourself. You're leaning over them now, hands braced on the bed to either side of them, and when you open your eyes, they're looking up at you in a way that makes you dizzy.

You try to move again but you're shaking too hard.

"Fuck me." You demand. Usually if you were to demand something, your monster would laugh, would tell you you need to learn to ask nicely, would make you beg on your hands and knees if that's what they were in the mood for. How many times have you begged for their mouth or their fingers? How many times have you begged them for pleasure and pain?

They don't say anything of the sort this time. They move.

Their hands are suddenly on your thighs, digging into your flesh as they begin to move you. You find yourself thrust back and forth on their cock, your movements controlled entirely by their hands. They are not gentle. Each time they pull you up, their cock nearly slips out of you. Each time they pull you back down, your body slams against theirs. And they have set a punishing pace.

You squirm, instinctively wanting to get away from the pain of being stretched open so violently, even as that same pain is what finally pushes you over the edge into your first orgasm. They don't stop. They don't even slow down. You were already overwhelmed. You're not sure there is a word for what you are now.

Your second orgasm comes close on the heels of the first, and it drags a scream from your throat. You're not sure you've ever screamed in pleasure before. Their movements stutter, but you manage a rough, barely intelligible "keep going." It's this assurance – and perhaps the way you're still twitching and clenching around their cock – that finally sparks their own orgasm.

They yank you tight against them as they cum, harshly grinding your hips against theirs. It's at this moment that your arms give out. They barely seem to notice you crashing into their chest. As their climax begins to fade, they start moving you again, using your body to draw out their own orgasm as long as they can with slow, shallow thrusts. The change in angle and the way they're manhandling you purely for their own pleasure sends you spiraling towards a third orgasm. They're moving slower and slower, clearly reaching the point of satisfaction. You're still on the edge when they finally go still. You try to move, searching out just a tiny bit more stimulation, but they're holding you too tightly. A low rumble of amusement beneath your cheek confirms they're doing so on purpose.

You manage a breathy "not fair," but your voice has gone as weak as your body. They don't bother to answer.

After several minutes spent with both of you trying to catching your breath, your monster begins to pull out of you. But they stop when you make a whine of protest. They've gone soft, but you still feel so incredibly full. You never want to feel empty ever again.

"I could spend the rest of my life on your cock," You mumble into their chest.

They answer with a quiet hum of approval. And then say "Well, now we know it fits there."

Before you can ask them what they mean, they've slipped a thick finger into your mouth. Their skin is rough against your lips and tongue.

They take their time, pressing down on your tongue, running the sharp tip of their claw along the inside of your cheek, hooking around the corner of your mouth and giving a gentle tug before adding a second finger. You whimper. At the feeling of their fingers exploring your mouth, and at the implication. Your brain runs wild with images of their cock filling your mouth, pressing slowly but firmly into your throat. Of yourself, choking and struggling to breathe.

They begin thrusting their hand back and forth, pulling out until their claws are dancing at the very tip of your tongue, then pushing in until those same claws are threatening your gag reflex. You're pretty sure you're drooling onto their chest.

During one of these thrusts, they push a third finger between your lips, forcing your jaw wider to accommodate them. Your jaw is already uncomfortable, and these three fingers barely even approach the girth of their cock. This might take more training.

Even as a flash of nervousness dances up your spine, you force your mouth even wider, and begin to run your tongue along their skin. You even go so far as to lick the very tip of their talons each time they pull out of your mouth. You can still taste a hint of your own blood on them, from when your monster held you too tightly.

They chuckle again. You're rewarded with a fourth finger and a single shallow thrust of their hips that isn't enough to trigger your third orgasm, but does press their cock deeper into you. You moan around their hand, and clench around their cock, and you're so unbelievably happy.

[suzukiblu]

just read "match and kon and the time magic made them do it" and now i feel like a dumbass for not reading it in time to know i'd want to request it for this wip wednesday.... so you can either consider this a delayed request if u feel like it or a "omg this is sooooo good i can't wait to see more of it" comment lol

“You are not helping with the orgasm math, Rob,” Thirteen accuses sourly. “You are actually fucking up all the math right now. Physics is gonna break and it'll be your fault.” 

“Well, Match came again after you two fucked the bed into matchsticks–no pun intended, but appropriately enough–and you creamed yourself like a bitch in heat when he spanked your triple-stuffed ass,” Tim reports casual and easy. Thirteen makes a strangled noise. Match rolls his eyes in exasperation. “So the score's five to three, your favor. Unless we’re scoring this more like golf, anyway, in which case you’re getting fucking destroyed here. Again, no pun intended."

“I hate you so much,” Thirteen mutters, fully hiding his face in his hands. It does absolutely nothing to hide the blazingly red flush all over his skin. Match remains entirely unimpressed with everything about him, as usual.

[faeriegirlshroom]

- @transfem-goddess-temple -

Let’s make a deal~

I can grant the powers indomitable, the station of angel in my high court, and the right to fuck any of the sluts within my temple walls. All I require is your obedience, and your worship of my massive Goddess cock. Does that sound fair?

If so, the deal is struck~

Well...

See, this one's a tough one for me. I've been lurking about your temple for a bit, and you seem very interesting... but.

I've never had much faith in the gods, fate, or divinity. Really, all I've gotten from your ilk is hurt. So, in fact, I've honestly developed quite the resentment of the gods. Besides, this deal of yours could use some work, honey~. So, from fae to goddess, I'll give you gesture of, well, good faith, if you will, as a freebie this time around, and give you some advice.

You're gonna need to work on your specifics, darling, if you want to get anywhere with my crowd~. Both for your safety as well as ours. I'd like some details on your "powers indomitable", and what the role of an angel in your court entails, responsibilities and benefits and the like, as well as what you'll command me to do in my obedience of you... because I'm not signing a contract if I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Wording as well. "Any" of the sluts in your temple is a descriptor that I'd say includes you, dear~

So, prove to me you're different from the rest of your kind, and perhaps I'll consider your offer...~

[gentlyevilvt]

Honestly something that's been really helpful for me with enjoying the hypnokink space is learning when to set the theatrics aside for a bit.

Don't get me wrong, I love the theatrics. I want to be some larger-than-life hypnotic villain, an irresistable sorceress who can weave their words into the mind of whichever helpless thrall has had the misfortune (or good fortune depending on your perspective) to find themselves in the palm of my hand. If I didn't want that, if I didn't love that, I wouldn't be here.

But I'm also the kind of person who just makes dumb jokes sometimes (I once made a joke so stupid that a sub broke out of trance laughing at it), and I like to go on unhinged rants about things that interest me (so many examples come to mind for subjects I could just start rambling about at the drop of a hat, I'm like a sleeper agent but my keywords make me ramble about pokemon multiverse theory).

Those things are a part of me! And they're fun to indulge in and great for building connections, they're just not part of the theatrics of hypnokink. But I've learned to wear them proudly even in the hypnokink space, because they're a part of me, and allowing myself to be who I am and act natural makes the space so much more fun and less exhausting.

If you get the urge to say or do something around your kink partners but you're worried it's unsexy or it doesn't fit in with the persona you build around yourself while doing kink play, just go for it anyway! The kinds of people who wouldn't want to talk to you if you're not all kink all the time aren't the kinds of people you'll get the most fun or healthy dynamic out of anyway.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Puppy play?

Dabi yips softly to get his master's attention. Tomura has been working all day, and while the chew toy he gave him was fun for a little while, he wants his master to give him more attention. If Duster leaves him to occupy himself all day after putting in his tail and getting his ears on, when Tomura is the one who said he wanted to do this kind of play over the weekend, then Dabi is going to piss on his shoes just to make a point. 

"Just a minute, puppy." 

Which is what he's said, three times now that Dabi has tried to get his attention. Fine. Dabi goes over to their bed and climbs up, dragging Tomura's pillow to the center of the bed. Duster doesn't even glance his way, which he thinks means that his master must believe that he's going to the bed so that he can lay down for a nap. But Dabi has no such intentions. Instead he shifts until he has his lover's pillow pressed up against his naked crotch-- "Pretty pups don't wear clothes."-- and starts to rub against the fabric. It's not hard to work himself up when being on his knees already means that his tail plug is pulling at his rim slightly, and the fake fur is brushing tantalizingly against the backs of his thighs and his balls as it swings between his legs. He's nice and distracted as his cock gets hard as he grinds himself against Tomura's pillow, fully intending on staining the fabric with his spend and waiting for him to even bother to notice. 

If he were a real dog, he definitely would have heard his master coming over to the bed before it dips suddenly as there are hands on his hips. Dabi yips again, wiggling his ass to make his tail wag as he feels his hands on his skin. "Is that why you couldn't be patient today? Is my pretty bitch in heat?" The words make his cock throb with need and he rocks into the pillow harder, letting out a needy pant. "I think that means my bitch needs a nice thick knot." 

Dabi can't quite keep from moaning, knowing that means that his lover is going to fuck him hard with his special cock sleeve. He just hopes that he doesn't make him change positions. He still is going to make a mess all over his pillow for making him wait as long as he has. 

[pampulonad]

soda bloats are on my mind rn… dunno why?

maybe its the way the stomach looks after there’s so much in there…

maybe its because of how noisy someone’s stomach gets once its stuffed full of that carbonated sugary goodness

maybe its the way someone can’t keep their burps down because of how carbonated the drink is

or maybe the sloshing of their stomach after they’ve let out all the air inside..~

[grimmweepers]

so funny how i mostly write about my faves and then there’s… dottore

[jello-shots-n-lemon-drops]

I love to exercise, it’s one of my favorite stims. I love moving my body and seeing how it can move and pushing its limits.

I often think about interruptions- mainly during the yoga portions. I think about shifting out of child’s pose and into table top only for a pair of hands to grip my hips and guide me into downdog. I think about fingers brushing over my exposed stomach during warriors one and two. I think about being in wide-leg standing forward bend with yoga lock and his palm pressing where I’m warmest before slipping down my leggings n briefs.

I think about riding him and being made to hold the kettlebell the whole time if I didn’t work on my arms enough that day. I think about having a toy against me while working on my balance and having to restart from the lowest setting every time I fall. I think about getting to blow him in between sets as a reward for not stopping before the timer. I think about-

[primewritessmut]

Seven Sentence Sunday

tagged by @keepmakingtrouuble

i have no idea where this excerpt is going (or if i'll ever finish it) but i do know that its mere existence is probably @punch-love's fault

He pulls his dagger out of the inside pocket of his jacket, not magic, but close enough to have Brad’s eyes widening in alarm. “Who the fuck gave you that?” “This old thing?” Loki starts to spin it gracefully around his fingers, enjoying the way Brad’s face pales as the blade flashes in the light. “It’s amazing what you can get away with when you convince someone to trust you.” “Mobius,” Brad whispers as he glances pleadingly toward the door. There’s no one there, no one to rescue him, and the empty window makes Loki’s heart race. Brad starts wiggling more earnestly against his restraints. “He’ll take it back. He’ll never trust you again. You’ll be right back where you started. In one of these cells with a collar on just like me.” “Perhaps.” Loki stops spinning the dagger and aims the point directly at Brad’s chest. “But it’s only you and me in here and what Mobius doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” Loki sidles closer until he can set the edge of the blade along Brad’s movie star cheekbone. “It might hurt you, though.”

no pressure open tag for the homies

[letstrytoohard]

Gwyn lets herself into Azriel's home in an attempt to bribe him into being part of a group costume but finds Az wearing a Ghostface mask, in full thirst trap mode.

This is my first attempt at writing an actual smut scene so if it's terrible, just don't tell me.

[evansbby]

not me going through the steve rogers x reader tag and i find a post that’s like “pov you find a fic with amazing smut but it has daddy kink 👎” LMFAOOOO

i wonder if anyone’s read my fics and just immediately exited out as soon as they see the word “daddy” bc it’s in like EVERY SINGLE ONE of my fics 😂😂

[hellhoundlair]

hiiiii happy wincest wednesday!! what episode do you think has the most canonical wincest?

NEVER FORGET!!!

"canonical wincest" will always be hard to point to, because of course in canon their relationship is platonic (the sheer intensity of their love nonwithstanding.) HOWEVER... the way sex and violence plays with the boundary of familial love and desire is fucking ..... idk Its fucking!

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Blood kink? Doesn't have to be their own

Tomura knows that Dabi is well-aware of how much he likes it when he cries. To be honest, Tomura has always liked making his subs cry. At the start he used pain to achieve it, but the older and more experienced he got, the less that was the only tool he had at his disposal to use. Still, when he and Dabi had negotiated, he had reluctantly told him that he was probably going to be more fragile than any of the other subs he's had before, and he would appreciate not being broken. And Tomura is glad he made the other lay out his limits and interests first. He's fairly certain that if he had lead with the fact he wanted to leave him crying, bruised, and bleeding, that he wouldn't have been able to convince him he could also be just as happy leaving Dabi floating and so sated he wouldn't be able to move. He can make Dabi cry in other ways. 

It was a bonus, then, that when he had gotten Dabi up to that threshold, when his breathing had hitched and his eyes got glassy, it was blood that seeped from his tear ducts and seams under his eyes. He hadn't seemed any more distressed than he had been from how long he's been edging the poor thing, so Tomura hadn't stopped. He kept going, and he got to indulge in two of his favorite things, his sobbing sub, and tasting his blood as he licked it off his cheeks. Dabi is well on his way to being his favorite sub for his unique ability to satisfy two of his favorite desires at once. 

[feroluce]

Utterly love and adore cute sleepy submas hcs...my fave...

I always think of Emmet as being an early bird. He can all but jump out of bed the moment he opens his eyes! Sometimes he even goes for a morning run before Ingo ever wakes up! And after he gets back, he feeds all their pokemon breakfast, then cooks himself and Ingo breakfast, packs their lunches, then goes and lures his sleepy bitch diseased twin brother out of bed with coffee and kisses. ♡

Even if it's not a work day, Emmet still gets Ingo up, because they both highly value routine and they like to get up/go to bed at the same times everyday.

But if it IS a work day, then Emmet will watch Ingo stumble around with his eyes barely open while he gets ready for work. He likes to wait and let Ingo try to button his own shirt and tie his own tie before Emmet inevitably steps in and fixes them for him, because sleepy Ingo is just so cute. He gets so many kisses in the mornings! He's technically awake, but not fully alert until they're already partway to Gear Station haha.

And then Ingo is a night owl, he's much more alert and productive in the evenings! Emmet starts to finally wear down towards the end of their shift, so on the way back, he usually nods off leaning against Ingo's shoulder (Emmet is allowed to sleep on public transport, but Ingo is not, because Ingo snores like an overclocked chainsaw HSKSJSN). Ingo sneaks an arm around him with the excuse that he's making sure Emmet doesn't accidentally fall into another passenger. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing of note going on there. Moving along.

When they get home, Emmet gets his hat, coat, and shoes off and then promptly passes out on the couch while Ingo sets about feeding their whole team dinner haha. And then he cooks dinner for the two of them, then rouses Emmet from his nap to help him undo his tie and unbutton his shirt and put him in comfy clothes. Emmet bounces back pretty quickly after just a short cat nap, so they're both awake enough to eat dinner and then do the day's dishes together. ♡

Emmet's still not much of a night owl though, so he starts fading fast again as soon as they sit on the couch to unwind together. Ingo eventually carries him to bed (Emmet isn't even actually asleep yet, Ingo is just fucking whipped smxjzmkskd) and tucks him in and everything. Ingo won't be able to fall asleep any time soon, but he still crawls into bed with Emmet and sits up against the headboard while he reads or does some paperwork by lamplight. He has one of those nice sitting pillows and everything.

Emmet likes to nuzzle up to him and he'll lay there with his forehead pressed to Ingo's hip, one hand curled under his thigh, listening to Ingo's voice as he reads to him out loud and pets his hair until he falls asleep to it. It's the most comfortable and content he's ever been. ♡♡♡

[inoankin]

Strangers (scrapped)

i need tumblr to revert back to its old layout right this second because this twitter-esque layout is making me so fucking upset

anyways this has been in my wips long enough for me to know it's probably never getting finished soooo. you can have it.

can you tell that i really connect emotionally with music? cuz i reaalllyy connect emotionally with music

_______________

It starts with the picking.

Vincent is checking around the second floor for anything useful when he hears it. The untuned, experimental picking of the old banjo’s strings. The sound floats up the stairs and right to Vincent, as if magnetised. After a moment the playing starts. It’s unrefined and far from pleasant. But it’s almost familiar.

Then, the humming.

That. Well.

Vincent’s feet carry him to the top of the staircase, just listening. The voice is rough like the strings, and yet. There’s something about it. 

He steps down. Magnetised. Before he knows it, he’s at the landing, watching Leo Caruso sit with bowed head as he hums alongside the makeshift tune. Light spills over his shoulders. Vincent thinks he spots a hint of a smile. He’s happy. The song is on the tip of his tongue.

Then…

“Mm-mm, mm-mm, I don’t mind. If I live too long, I’m afraid I’ll die…”

Oh.

The stagnant air carries the Davies’ words and they taste like cinnamon from Leo’s lips. As he sings, Vincent makes his way down the steps, enraptured by this impossible moment.

“So I will follow you wherever you go, If you offered hand’s still open to me.”

Leo doesn’t notice him when he reaches the bottom. It doesn’t seem real. This vulgar, cocky criminal, picking a banjo and singing the Kinks like he’s got nowhere better to be than here, flipping every one of Vincent’s notions on their heads. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

“Strangers on this road we are on, Oh, we are not two, we are one.”

Something in his voice beckons him forward; but when he walks into the open space, Leo’s head snaps up.  

Silence.

He looks nervous, guilty. Like he’s been caught in the middle of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Vincent’s pinned by his gaze before he convinces his body to move again, making it the rest of the way to the piano resting quietly against the wall. He lifts the lid and tests the keys. Still well-tuned. He takes a second to remember the chords. And then…

“So you’ve been where I’ve just come, From the land that brings losers on...”

He doesn’t look at Leo, instead focusing on the keys. Similarly, it’s unrefined. He learned to play this song a while ago, and it’s not like he’s had much free time lately. He shouldn’t have any now.

Leo picks back up his half, the banjo a fitting supplement for guitar. His smile is small. Vincent’s is as well.

“So we will share this road we walk, And mind our mouths and beware our talk.”

It shouldn't come as a surprise that Leo can play; his file mentioned an upbringing in Virginia. And anyway, he’s missing a third of the chords he picks. Still, Vincent finds himself entranced by his fingers on the strings, calloused and confident despite his mistakes. Like the result doesn’t matter, because he’s enjoying himself. The simplicity is infectious.

“‘Till peace we find, tell you what I’ll do, All the things I own, I will share with you.”

Their voices meld into one. Leo meets his eyes and he gets the feeling that the song choice was intentional. His eyes glitter with warmth, with trust. Vincent ignores the flighty feeling in his chest.

“And if I feel tomorrow like I feel today, We’ll take what we want and give the rest away. Strangers on this road we are on, Oh, we are not two, we are one.”

They play together and it feels fucking right. Like everything they do. Slotting together perfectly, like companions, like friends, like… 

Vincent fumbles a few beats as he dismisses the rest of that thought. Leo eyes him, but he keeps on.

He can accept the fact that Leo is attractive. It’s not anything subjective, it’s just a fact. With a hard, lean body and the skills to match, he’s not losing anything by admitting it. Leo’s attractive. That doesn’t mean Vincent has feelings for him. He’s not even… he’s never thought about a man that way. It would be a stupid choice, anyways, considering his circumstances—he’d be better off shooting Leo now. He tries to ignore how that idea makes him vaguely nauseous.

But he can’t spare it any more thought once the next verse catches them. He forgets the next lyrics, but Leo supplies.

“Holy man and holy priest, This love of life makes me weak at my knees.”

Vincent might have jumped in were he not suddenly captured by the sound. It’s not smooth, but it is good. Like a low fire, crackling with warmth and smoke, licking at the roof of his mouth. Vincent’s goes dry.

“And when we get there, make your play, ‘Cause soon, I feel, you’re gonna carry us — come on, man!”

Vincent swallows and pulls his eyes back to the piano. It shouldn’t be so hard to look away. But Leo is so earnest in his joy, glowing in the soft light of the afternoon. So he sings.

“In a promised lie you made us believe, For many men, there is so much grief. And my mind is proud, but it aches with rage, And if I live too long, I’m afraid I’ll die. Strangers on this road we are on, Oh, we are not two, we are one…”

Vincent watches his own fingers play. Badly bruised and webbed with cuts from day and night spent navigating the wilderness with Leo at his side. 

couplet? maybe

Leo doesn’t know who he is, and maybe the irony of it is what hits the hardest. He’s extended this proverbial olive branch and he doesn’t even know what it means, wholly trusting that Vincent is who he claims to be. That’s always been Leo’s greatest vice. Trust. He gave his trust to Harvey, who threw it back in his face. And now, despite his wounds, he’s given it to Vincent. Who plans to do the very same.

fin.

[noses-in-winter]

WIP word challenge: "gasp"?

ty for the prompt! I had that word in several places in several WIPs, but this one is nearest to completion, so! (def nsfw---)

--

At last, Cordelia started to sneeze, clenching around Elias’s cock with every release. He couldn’t help the low gasp of sheer pleasure as she tightened around him. This wasn’t the first time Cordelia sneezed in the middle of sex, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. No matter how frequent the occurrence, Elias’s mind was still blown each and every time. Of course, he would have preferred getting Cordelia to climax before himself, but Eli simply had no choice but to finish when she had her sweet sneezing fits while in the throes of passion. They were always an instant trigger for him.

--

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence paragraph that it appears in.