#raw face is just gross
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The Llamas With Hats Epilogue
So like any normal Jason Steele mega fan (I'm calling us The Steelers (Copyright be damned)), I was present for the Llamas With Hats Epilogue, a 20 minute append to the 11 year old series about a mad scientist llama with a particular skill for horrific contraptions involving human meat. He also wears a hat. I'm hardly the only one to have caught onto this story as an allegory for abusive relationships, and the epilogue continues this idea wonderfully.
Carl, having killed himself after his creations destroyed the entire world, finds himself in the afterlife. He's still haunted by the voice of his only friend, fellow llama Paul (also behatted). The epilogue is almost entirely focused on Carl and his coming to understand his greatest crime. Not the global genocide, or all the horrific torture he put countless people through with his many meat monsters, but hurting his llama boyfriend, the one person he actually cared about. Kinda.
Carl is a fascinating character, and the epilogue I think does a great job at outlining precisely what he is. The series finale is perfectly somber. No jokes, no laughs, just misery. That's the state of the world, and it's the state of Carl. But the epilogue does something to recontextualize the finale, in a way some may not like. The finale leaves the impression that Carl is well and truly miserable. This remains intact. But it also leaves you with the impression that he genuinely cared about and missed Paul. And while it's certainly possible that Carl came to genuinely miss Paul over the course of time between their last meeting and the finale, I think the epilogue does a much better job outlining Carl's exact relationship with Paul.
Carl, in his own words, is a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. Throughout the series, it's shown that he and Paul spend a lot of time together. Vacations, time at home, walks through the park, there does seem to be a functioning relationship there on some level. But in the series itself, all we see is a version of Carl that is well and truly a horrific monster. A monster who seems to primarily appreciate Paul because he's someone who puts up with Carl and his antics. Carl seems to have fun antagonizing Paul with his many monstrosities. When Paul finally leaves, Carl is desperate to get him back. The epilogue makes it clear that this isn't out of genuine love, it's just possessiveness.
Carl is stated very clearly to be beyond redemption. And though I'm typically of a forgiving mentality, I'm comfortable saying that a llama who makes meat dragons out of orphan baby hands for fun probably isn't someone who can be redeemed. Carl is very resistant to this idea at first. He thinks that Paul will forgive him if he just never does anything wrong again. And even after he dedicates himself to this idea, he can't help but enact violence on the first thing he sees. It takes remembering that Paul is dead, and that he was the one responsible for Carl to realize that he isn't healthy for Paul. That for them both to move on, that he needs to let go. For both their sakes.
Carl is probably the most deplorable character in Filmcow's catalogue. Not even Jenny with her Pizza Hut is that evil. But he's allowed peace. He's not punished forever, it's unlikely it'd even do anything if he was. He's just left to make what was probably the hardest decision he possibly could. He became the acorn. He let go. He gave himself up so that something else could live and be free.
You can't even really describe this as a selfless act, though. Paul is dead, he'll never know what Carl did. He'll never know, and he probably doesn't care. There's something beautiful about that. Carl making a sacrificial decision for nobody but himself. Even the most evil, irredeemable monster is capable and deserving of inner peace. The destruction of the world and death of every living thing didn't make Carl happy. Getting everything he ever wanted just made him miserable. Letting go is the only way for Carl, and abusive people like him, to ever achieve peace.
This all being said, the toxic llama yaoi does go crazy hard, 10 "CAAAAAAARRRLLLLLLLLL"s out of 10. Stay hydrated, eat your tube meat, and keep an eye out for phantom impostors. No, not like amogus.
#filmcow#jason steele#Llamas With Hats#hungry for hands#probably because he's a sociopath with a long history of violence#raw face is just gross#toxic llama yaoi#omfg I can't believe there was a typo that I'm only now noticing I'm literally so embarrassing
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Feeling really out of it today. The yellowy orange glow to the world makes everything feel unreal.
#bean keeps popping out to tell husband how sad they are#and we just feel gross#my throat is raw and I'm coughing and my face is clogged up#galactic gab#vent tw
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Getting irrationality angry over new SpongeBob again
#its the people who defend it without actually understanding what people hate about it#the people who keep saying its the SAME as it used to be#no offense but are you fucking stupid#reiterating that i am 100% being unreasonable#but#what the fuck#its ugly as balls and loud and irritating and oddly disturbing#but regardless of me hating it you cant deny its got an ENTIRELY different vibe in every way#how do people not see it#im very passionate about my spngeboy#“oh but the brighter colours are more inviting and fun!” it looks fucking CLINICAL. raw MS Paint-ass pallette#wheres the atmosphere#“the darker colours weren't appealing to kids” it was warm and inviting and kids WERE ALREADY WATCHING#im not even getting into what they did to the spong's character rn#im just on the Why Does It Look Like That#their poor weird punchable faces#listen spongebobs character design is inherently kinda ugly it requires a gentle touch#a fine line between it being cute and it being nasty#they seem to be tryna make it more cute?? but in doing so they made it gross? Do You Get What I Mean#like theres ugly cute then there's Cute Ugly.
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Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)
⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons
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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡
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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you.
💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair.
B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it).
💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good).
C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)
👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor.
💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you.
D: Dirty Secret
👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!
💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though).
E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless.
💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this.
F: Favorite Position
👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock.
💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands.
G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him.
💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable.
H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another.
💉: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture.
I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul.
💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again.
J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence.
👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad.
💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax.
K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)
👣:
Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.
Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad.
Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom.
Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste.
Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.
💉:
Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing.
Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing.
Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone.
Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit.
Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him.
L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)
👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together?
💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time.
M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life.
💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...
N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain.
💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom.
O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth.
💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more.
P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)
👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night.
💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him).
Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.
💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean!
R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally.
💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form.
S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department).
T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke).
👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life.
💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him.
U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)
👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you.
💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release.
V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat.
💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time.
W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)
👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him.
💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him.
X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock.
💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly.
Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha.
👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.
💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido.
Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience.
💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer.
#🌸 . plum writes#🌺 . Plum Thirsts#💌 . anon#homicipher#文字化化#mr crawling#mr crawling x reader#mr crawling x you#mr silvair#mr silvair x reader#mr silvair x you#not sfw#not sfw alphabet#homicipher headcanons#headcanons#smut#cw smut#homicipher smut#mr crawling smut#mr silvair smut
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its rlly funny that the current crop of content for forcemasc is either inspiring but rather erotically void motivational posters, or just saying "be gross and disgusting and violent" like thats what men are supposed to be.
the real sensual appeal of forcemasc, to me, is someone grabbing you by the hair, looking you in the eyes, and saying "I know what you are. And I'm going to drag it out of you. And you're going to love every second of it."
it's having someone not only affirm your internal view of yourself, but demanding it be brought to fruition at their hands. Someone who's completely uninterested in the girl-shaped shell you've been living inside of, and wants to extricate you, raw and wanting, from inside of it. They want to mold you like clay in the image of a strong, confident, beast that knows how to obey.
it's having your body examined and sized up, being praised for how far you've come and getting punished for backsliding. it's getting called a 'good boy' every time you take your shot straight-faced. it's tussling in the backyard and getting that little smile when you stand back up instead of tapping out. it's building your tolerance, your confidence, layer by layer until that shy, scared little girl inside of you that people forced you to be is gone, and all that remains is a very, very good boy.
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SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!
ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k
ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
you notice a strange shift in logan...
There’s something off with Logan.
The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.
It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.
Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.
And he was more territorial over you, so much more.
His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.
He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.
It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.
There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.
Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.
The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.
There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.
Then there was the scent—his scent.
You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.
Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.
Everywhere.
He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.
There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.
More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.
Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.
You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.
It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.
He’s just acting…strange.
A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.
You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.
Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.
You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.
Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.
Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.
It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.
You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.
All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp.
Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.
His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.
“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.
You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.
You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.
“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”
There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.
The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.
"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you."
You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.
Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.
“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.
The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.
You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."
Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.
“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”
His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.
You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.
"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out."
Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat."
His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.
Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.
He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.
“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser.
Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.
It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.
You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.
Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”
Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties.
His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.
Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.
When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.
“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”
He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.
His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”
Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.
Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.
“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.
His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.
“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”
Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.
Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance.
Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.
He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.
Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.
He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”
You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.
Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.
It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.
Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.
His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.
Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.
The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.
It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea.
Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.
Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.
It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.
“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.
There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise.
His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.
His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.
“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”
You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.
Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.
You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.
Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.
“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”
And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question.
It’s a choice.
Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.
You spread your legs.
Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way.
Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.
“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.
The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run.
The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.
“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.
Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more.
Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.
“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.
Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.
“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.
“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”
The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece.
You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties.
“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.
Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.
You’re already so ready for him.
“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”
Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.
He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.
“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.
“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”
Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.
You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.
Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”
You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.
“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”
You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.
“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide.
He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.
Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.
“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.
“Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”
Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.
Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge.
He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.
You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you.
“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”
“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”
You’re powerless to resist.
You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers.
Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed.
When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit.
Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes.
His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.
“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession.
You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.
But Logan’s far from finished.
His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.
Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his.
The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.
Which you know is exactly where he wants you.
He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need.
You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.
“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”
The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”
Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”
He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.
“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”
You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”
“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.
It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.
The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.
He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.
This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.
You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.
Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.
His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.
He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.
It should gross you out.
It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want.
His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control.
You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver.
“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”
He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”
“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”
Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”
His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.
Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.
The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.
The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting.
His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls.
Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.
“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”
It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.
You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips.
You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.
“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”
You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.
You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.
It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.
It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes.
“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”
His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”
Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.
You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.
And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.
Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.
Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.
Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.
But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again.
“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.
“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”
With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch.
He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for.
The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.
His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust.
Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.
Logan notices, of course he does.
A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”
You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible.
“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.
The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.
“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”
You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought.
All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.
“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”
His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.
His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls.
“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”
You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.
Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him.
“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.
Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.
You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.
Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.
Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.
The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”
It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.
Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.
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#— 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ♡#ᯓ★ 𝐧𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭!#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#hold my hand y’all#and match my freak#thank you#mwah mwah mwah#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine smut#x men x reader#x men smut#marvel x reader#marvel smut#mcu x reader#mcu smut
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they're doing SUCH a good job of keeping the comic's tone of like. the violence being so raw and GROSS and mark is just sobbing this whole time with tears and blood and snot dripping down his face and it's like. not even BADASS its desperate and painful and it hurts hurts HURTS
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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱



☆ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 3
☆ HEADCANON : You Were Pregnant... And Your Pregnancy Wasn't Normal... Especially Not Something That Mark Expected...
☆ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
Mark started noticing things.
It began with small stuff.
Shiny things went missing—coins, keys, a silver spoon, even his mom’s earrings (which somehow ended up under his bed).
Then there was the soft stuff. His hoodies, pillows, blankets—all gone.
And the food. Fruits he’d never seen before piled up in the corner of his room, untouched but somehow... perfectly fresh.
Mark was so confused.
At first, he thought you were just being weird. Because let’s be honest—you weren’t exactly normal. But then he caught you sitting in a pile of stolen goods, legs tucked beneath you, nesting.
That was when he finally asked:
"...What are you doing?"
You blinked up at him, tilting your head, hair cascading around you like a shimmering cloak.
"For baby," you said simply. Then, after a pause, you added: "Babies."
Mark froze.
"...What."
You pointed at your stomach with a serene smile. "Baby. Nest good for baby."
Mark’s heart stopped.
"WHAT???"
Mark. Freaks. Out.
You tilted your head, confused. "What?" Mark panicked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BABIES—PLURAL?!" You just shrugged. "Baby." You patted your stomach. "Yours." He felt his soul leave his body.
Mark didn't know how to handle this.
He immediately ran to his mom.
"Mom," he gasped, stumbling into the kitchen like he’d just seen a ghost. "She—she said she’s pregnant."
Debbie paused mid-dishwashing. "What?"
"She’s making a nest! She’s collecting stuff! She said babies!" Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, what the fuck!"
Debbie dried her hands calmly. "Did you use protection?"
Mark gawked at her. "I didn’t think I needed to! She’s an alien!"
Debbie exhaled sharply. "Well, apparently, she’s an alien that can get pregnant."
Mark groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Oh my God. I’m not ready to be a dad."
"Well," Debbie muttered, completely unbothered. "You should’ve thought about that before sleeping with her."
Mark let out a miserable groan.
Now that you were pregnant, your eating habits changed.
You ate. So. Much.
Especially meat.
Mark stared, horrified, as you tore into a raw steak, completely unbothered. "You know... we usually cook that."
You blinked at him, mouth full of blood. "...Why?"
Mark swallowed. "Because it's gross eating it raw?"
You just tilted your head. "But taste good."
Mark watched in silence as you continued devouring the steak.
You also developed a sweet tooth.
Cookies? Gone.
Ice cream? Destroyed.
Syrup? You drank it straight from the bottle.
He had to physically pry it out of your hands.
Mark learned that you were serious about the nest.
You dragged his hoodies into a corner of his room. You hoarded pillows, blankets, even his mattress.
Mark woke up on the floor.
"You kicked me out of my own bed!" he groaned.
You blinked sleepily. "Nest not for you. Nest for baby."
Mark sighed, rubbing his face.
"...Where am I supposed to sleep?"
You thought about it for a second, then patted your lap.
Mark stared. "...I am not sleeping on your lap."
You shrugged, curling up in the nest. "Then floor."
Mark let out a strangled noise.
One night, Mark found you hugging your knees, staring out the window.
He frowned. "Hey... what’s wrong?"
You stayed silent.
Mark sat beside you. "Come on. Talk to me."
You took a deep breath. "Miss... sisters."
Mark blinked. "Your sisters?"
You nodded. "We... always together. Always. Birth together. Hug under sky." Your voice grew soft. Lonely. "Now... alone."
Mark felt something tug at his chest.
You were always so strange, so terrifying, so otherworldly. It was easy to forget you could feel sadness.
Mark hesitated before wrapping an arm around you.
You looked up, surprised.
Mark forced a smile. "Well... you’re not alone anymore."
You blinked. Then, slowly, you buried your face in his chest.
"...Mark warm," you mumbled.
He chuckled, resting his chin on your head. "Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot."
"Mark," you whispered against his skin, nuzzling into his neck. "You scared?" Mark swallowed thickly. "...A little." You pulled back, blinking at him. "Why?" He exhaled. "Because you’re not human. And you’re... different." You tilted your head. "Different bad?" "...No. Just... different."
You considered that. Then, slowly, you reached out, placing his hand on your slightly rounded stomach. "Not different," you murmured. "Just... mine."
And somehow, despite everything, despite the insane, terrifying reality of his situation— Mark smiled. Because yeah. He was yours.
You were beautiful. Terrifying, yes, but his. You clung to him, kissed him randomly, slept on top of him. And God help anyone who looked at him the wrong way. One time, a girl at the store smiled at Mark. You hissed. Mark had to physically drag you away. "Can you NOT try to commit murder every time a girl breathes near me?" You pouted. "She want mate." Mark sighed. "No, she was just being polite." You narrowed your eyes. "I kill." "NO." Mark was exhausted. Not because of crime-fighting, not because of college, not even because of his dad suddenly being back in his life. No. Because of you. It started one night when Mark woke up to emptiness. You weren’t in the nest. Panic hit him immediately. He checked the kitchen. Not there. The bathroom? Nope. The ceiling? ...Also no. "Goddamn it," he muttered. Mark searched the whole house three times before he heard it—soft breathing. He turned to the darkest corner of his room. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. "Jesus—!" He nearly punched the wall. "What the hell are you doing there?!" You blinked slowly, like a cat caught doing something forbidden. "Hide." Mark exhaled, running a hand down his face. "From what?!" You shrugged. "Feel good." Mark’s eye twitched. "Get out of the shadows." "No." "Get out." "...No." Mark groaned. Debbie had seen some shit. She survived Omni-Man. She survived Viltrumites. But she was not surviving this. She walked into the kitchen one morning, and there you were—perched on the fridge like some kind of cryptid. "...What are you doing?" "Mark say no raw meat," you said blankly. "So I eat where he not see." Debbie sighed. "Please don’t tell me you’re eating it raw again." You tilted your head. "...I no tell." "...Oh my God." Nolan hated you.
He had been sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when Mark asked you something completely innocent. "So… what were you like before?" You perked up. Pregnancy made you talkative, and you loved talking to Mark. "Oh! Had harem. Many males. Many pretty. All do what I say." Mark choked on his drink.
Nolan raised an eyebrow. Debbie just stared. "Harem?..." You nodded proudly. "Yes. Male do all work. Listen to Queen. Bring food. Fight others. Make babies." Mark coughed. "Uh. What happened to them?" You tilted your head. "Eat them." Dead silence. Nolan put his cup down very slowly. Mark paled. "...WHAT?" You hummed. "Some live. But old way… Male weak, we eat. No waste." Mark looked horrified. "...You ate your husbands?" You shrugged. "Yes. But you safe." You patted his head. "No eat you. Like you too much." Nolan looked like he was having a stroke. Debbie got up and left the room. Mark, meanwhile, just buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God." One time, Mark caught you crying in the nest. Immediate panic. He rushed over, pulling you into his arms. "Hey, hey—what’s wrong?!" You sniffled. "Nest too small." Mark blinked. "...Baby isn’t even born yet." You hugged your belly. "Need big nest." "...How big?" You looked at him, eyes deadly serious. "Big as house." He wanted to scream. Mark learned way too much about you. One night, as you laid in the nest together, you played with his fingers and whispered— "I ruin species once." Mark groaned. "Oh God. Not again." "Yes. Make them better. Stronger. Then… too strong." "...You made a species that killed itself?" "Yes." You yawned. "Oops." Mark covered his face. "Mark?" "...Yeah?" "Would you let me change you?" "NO." "...Okay." Mark didn’t sleep that night. One day, Nolan took Mark aside. "Mark. Listen to me. You don’t understand what you’ve done." Mark sighed. "Dad, relax. She’s harmless." "She is a goddamn genetic nightmare!" Mark crossed his arms. "She’s cute." "SHE ATE HER OWN KIND." "She said she wouldn’t eat me!" "THAT IS NOT REASSURING." Mark rolled his eyes. "Look, she chose me. That means I’m safe, right?" Nolan looked pale. "...Mark. If she chose you, that means you are hers. Forever." Mark shrugged. "I don’t see the problem." Nolan grabbed his shoulders. "MARK. SHE’S HAVING YOUR CHILD." Mark smirked. "Yeah. And?" Nolan looked to the sky, as if begging the universe for patience. "...You are the dumbest child I have ever raised."
Once Mark walked into the house after training, exhausted, covered in bruises, and ready to pass out. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence. His stomach dropped. "Babe?" No response. He checked the kitchen. No you. The living room? Empty. The bathroom? He opened the door and— "RAAARGH!" "HOLY SHIT!" Mark fell back as you jumped out from the shadows, completely naked as always, landing on his chest. You grinned. "Surprise." Mark groaned. "You almost gave me a heart attack." You tilted your head. "I no have heart attack." "I’M NOT YOU." You hummed, then leaned down, licking his face. Mark sighed. "Okay. You really need to stop licking me." "No." Despite the absolute insanity, Mark was obsessed with you. You were weird. You were dangerous. You were terrifying. But you were his. And he wouldn’t trade you for anything. Even if you tried to eat his kids.
"You are... happy?" you asked once, tilting your head as you lay across his lap, your long hair pooling onto the floor. Mark blinked, swallowing thickly. "I—I mean, yeah? I think so? It’s just... a lot." You smiled softly, placing a hand over your stomach. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, you murmured, "I eat it if it bad." Mark choked. "WHAT?" You blinked. "If baby weak. Bad. I eat." His soul left his body. "YOU CAN’T JUST EAT THE BABY!" You frowned, confused. "Why not?" "BECAUSE—BECAUSE THAT’S NOT—" He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Oh my god, I can’t believe I got you pregnant." You beamed. "I can."
One night Mark had come home late, exhausted. He expected to find you asleep in your ridiculous nest. Instead, he found you sitting on the balcony, staring at the stars. Quiet. Still. He sat beside you. "Couldn’t sleep?" You shook your head. "Stars nice." Mark hummed. "...Yeah. They are." You glanced at him. "You think babies like stars?" Mark hesitated. Then, slowly, he smiled. "...I think they’ll love them." You brightened, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He was so screwed.
— MASTERLIST ☆
— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.
— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆
#🐇.invincible comics#🐇.alien reader#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#mark grayson fanfic#yandere mark grayson#mark grayson#mark grayson x reader#mark grayson x you#mark grayson fluff#invincible x reader#invincible show#invincible fanfic#yandere invincible x reader#invincible#yandere x reader#yandere male#yandere#yandere x you#yandere alien
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cws; 18+ smut, cr★★mpie, mentions sq★★rting, use of sl★t
Choso Kamo who is so soft and slow and sensual, caressing your body with careful hands and pressing tender kisses to it with a slowness that shows you how much he savors your taste, how much he loves you.
Swirling his tongue around your nipple, he takes his time feeling you up with his hot mouth until you're squirming and muttering an impatient "Baby, please," in pleading breaths, "Stop teasing, I need you!" and he giggles as you practically pull his cock into you the moment he aligns himself at your entrance.
Oh, he's a sweet lovesick boy; pupils dilating as he plunges into your squishy walls that suck his cock so good, "Ahhah fuck — someone's excited tonight. You must be really feeling it, huh?" he mumbles all into your ear, pressuring you with his heavy muscles and smushing you into the pink satin bed. "Nn! Yeah, 'm sensitive... 's that time of the month..." you moan, feeling his cockhead dragging through your walls, "Fuck, do that again..."
He chuckles when you start rubbing your clit to orgasm, watching you cum deliciously on his juicy cock. His hand steadies you as you let it all out, feeling your pussy gush like a fountain, his hand stroking at your cheek to soothe your twitchy body as is gets wrecked by pure ecstasy. Choso narrows his eyes at your spasming pussy, lips forming a smile at the sight of it freaking out, "Shiiit, your sweet little pussy squirted a lil' there. Look at her trynna drown my cock. You're crazy, baby."
Clamping down on him, his cock freaks out as its squeezed up into your guts — much too deep for either of you to handle but you're fucking like wild animals tonight; you're leglocking him for nasty creampies and he's happily delivering them into your weeping hole. "Fuck, so sweaty..." he grunts, peeling his muscular frame off of you to give your hot wet body a breather. You smile under him, making his heart tick, "I am not sleeping in this wet patch..." you declare, making him chuckle before he timidly slides the tip of his cock back inside for just a lil' more.
Neither of you can reach orgasm by this point, you fucked all the orgasms out of your bodies and now you're just continuing for the sake of feeling that pleasurable friction, being one with each other — cuddling close and drenching the bed in sweat and falling in love with the same feeling in the air as when you first met so long ago at that little party. Suddenly Choso gets nostalgic, recalling a the hot memory of fucking you in the backseat of his car. You're weeping underneath him, hot face buried into the pink pillow and body tingling with each of his heavy thrusts that have his balls smacking into your clit. "Nn, remember how we fucked when we first met, at that party? Yeah... 'n you thought you didn't like emo boys... now look at you being a lil' slut for me... all cute and sweaty." he husks against your ear, hitting you with a newfound force and god, the wet sounds of your squelchy hole and of skin slapping together is almost gross — sticky, sweaty, messy, pure and raw sex with no end in sight, you think, 'till you hear Choso let out a strangled moan and feel his pelvis shaking. He slams down his hand at your side, trying to stabilize himself in the moment of his body-wrecking orgasm. He's so pretty when he gasps and shudders like that, wolf cut all stuck to his face and disheveled.
He carefully slides his overworked cock out of your trembling body with a wet pop, "Fuck... y'know your pussy's kind of menace... you nearly squeeze my dick off every time." Choso pants after rolling off your body, cock finally too sensitive to snuggle into your abused pussy anymore. "Yeah, well I'm all sticky and gross — 'n my walls feel beat 'n my thighs ache... you're a little monster." you huff, forearm draped dramatically over your forehead. "I'm sorryyy," he coos in a hoarse voice, lazily rolling over to you so he can soothe your muscles. His big hands rub out the stress and soreness, fingertips digging into just the right spots. "Is this a good enough apology?" he asks, tickling your ear to get a squirming giggle out of you. "Or how about I make breakfast tomorrow?" he suggests, face now hovering over yours, lips teasingly close. You hum at this, cuddling to his firm body after cooling down and letting the sweat dry off a little, but your pussy was still wet and slippery, leaking and slicking your inner thighs. "That sounds like the perfect apology." you smile, taking in his tired features before plucking a kiss off his lips.
And surely, the next morning Choso is wearing a tight-fitting apron that hugs his big muscles just right. He cooks breakfast with a Zen focus on his face, swiftling moving left to right to get everything into the pan and cooking. But he stops everything when he hears the soft thuds of your footsteps. Oh, he admires your sleepy self wandering into the kitchen. Wrapping your arms around his waist for a morning hug, he looks down at the top of your head and his heart throbs at the size difference. "How did my naughty little princess sleep last night, hm?" he asks, stroking your hair — "Mm, like a baby..." you mumble dreamily into his soft white cotton shirt. "Huh, I wonder why." he teases, knowing damn well that you only sleep so well 'cause his good dick pampers you for two hours before bedtime.
#mdni#tw smut#smut#jjk smut#choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#choso#choso kamo#choso x reader#x reader#some fluff#smut with fluff#fluffy smut#choso kamo x reader#choso x you#choso x y/n#choso x female reader#jjk x you#jjk choso#jjk x reader#kamo choso
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I need a fic where pregnant reader feels so gross and unattractive but she doesn’t realize Soobin is so down bad for pregnant her. Like he goes out of his way to show her just how turned on he is but nothing works, until one day he presses himself against her and it finally clicks for her and she gets the nastiest wetted sex of her life like he’s trying to get her pregnant again like ugh
⧼ 🍼 ⧽ ── GROWING PAINS 。
soobin needs you to know just how much he loves your new body。
╭♡ pairing 。〃choi soobin x fem!reader ! genre 。〃pure smut , fluff ! warning 。〃minors do not interact! pregnant!reader , husband!soobin , pregnancy kink , lactation kink , breeding kink , dirty talk , praise kink , sub top!soobin , handjob (m.rec) , oral (f. rec) , mentions of unprotected sex
a/n 。〃not proofread ! my first time writing pregnant!reader, so let me know if it sucks! also take a shot every time i use the word “nipple” lol
♡ ⸝⸝ ꒰ 1.7k ꒱ ‧ ꒰ m.list ꒱ ‧ ꒰ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ꒱
you had found a lot of solace in baking as of recent— it was one of the few things you could still do this far along in your pregnancy, big belly and aching joints always getting in the way of everything else. you just couldn’t stand the thought of laying around all day, wasting all of your maternity leave doing nothing except waiting for your husband to come home from work. you had to make yourself useful somehow.
you hear the front door open just as you slide your pie into the oven, the soft jingling of keys reaching your ears as your husband drops them in the trinket dish you keep in the hallway. before you can turn to greet him strong arms wrap themselves around your protruding belly, soobin’s tall frame hunched over to bury his face in your neck, plant sweet kisses to your skin.
“i’m home, bunny,” he mumbles against your collarbone, his trail of kisses slowly leading down your shoulder. “how are my perfect girls doing?”
“hi honey, you’re home early,” you giggle, turning your head to give him a kiss; he hums against your lips, big hands rubbing your belly through the loose dress you wore. he was always extra touchy after getting home from work, but this was odd even for him. he must have had a bad day, you thought. “‘m all sore ‘n tired; the twins woke me up from my nap and i couldn’t go back to sleep so i decided to make dessert early so it’ll be cooled down by tonight.”
“mm, you’re so good to me. i’m sorry the babies are bothering you, honey,” soobin replied, pressing his body flush against yours. “the boss let me go early; i finished up that project he wanted done before the deadline, he said i needed to go home and help out my wife. go rest and i’ll take care of you, i’ve been thinking about you all day, baby….”
“oh, sweetie… well, i wouldn’t mind a hand in cleaning up the kitchen—“ you start, but stop dead in your tracks— you can feel soobin’s cock against the swell of your ass, thick and heavy through his slacks. he rocks his hips up against you gently, an almost inaudible whimper falling from the bunny lips he buried in your hair.
“binnie,” you whimper, arousal pooling in your belly despite your shock, “you’re hard.”
“‘m sorry, bunny,” he groans into your ear, deep and dripping with desire. it knocks the wind out of your lungs, makes you gasp against his lips when he leans in for another, filthier kiss. “you’re just so sexy, i’ve been needing you so bad… thinking about your beautiful body all day while trying to get my work done..”
you frown at the words ‘beautiful body’, squirming in your husband’s grip. he notices in an instant, your sweet husband always so perceptive to how you were feeling; whining and pouting those plump bunny lips you adored. “i don’t understand why you’re so self conscious… god, you’re so perfect— this is the best you’ve ever looked, you look so beautiful carrying my children, baby. it makes me so fucking crazy, you have no idea…”
“really..?” you turn to look at him, and his eyes lock with yours— the raw hunger you find in his gaze is unlike anything you had ever seen before from your sweet, shy husband.
his hands caressed your tummy and hips, slid up your sides to cup your swollen, sensitive tits, bare underneath your dress. the gentlest squeeze was enough to get you to gasp and moan, your puffy nipples threatening to leak, soobin drinking up your reactions like he wishes to drink your milk. “let me show you how much i love your body, please…”
⸝⸝
“binnie, oh my god, slow down! you’re gonna make me cum again!” you wail, your hands shaking as they tug at the hem of your little dress. you couldn’t see your husband over the swell of your belly, but you could feel his lips and tongue hot and heavy against your pussy, sliding up between your pussy lips to swirl around your clit. you were still recovering from the last orgasm he slurped out of you, your pussy drunk husband refusing to let up his onslaught of pleasure even as you cried, begged, and tugged at his hair— far too soon was that dizzying pleasure building back up in your tummy, your thighs shaking in soobin’s grip as he pushed you further and further to the edge.
“fuck yes, do it, cum for me!” soobin moans with his mouth full, tongue dipping deep into your hole, big hands tightening their grip and tugging you impossibly closer. “cum on my face, baby, please! make a mess—!”
his desperation does you in; you cum again with a sharp cry, your overstimulated little pussy pulsating uncontrollably as soobin eagerly laps up every drop of your release. you soak your thighs, your dress, and the bed underneath you— and, as soobin presses a kiss to your clit and pulls away from your slippery pussy to shoot you a silly, satisfied smile, you can see that you’ve soaked the bottom half of his face as well. it drips from his chin as he crawls up over you, his eyes slowly trailing from your flushed face down to your quivering tits.
and just as he takes in the sight of your heaving chest, his eyes widen and his mouth drops agape. confused, you follow his gaze… and take in the sight of two identical wet patches seeping through your white dress, your puffy nipples visible and budding noticeably through the fabric.
you had leaked milk in the midst of your climax.
“oh god,” you whine shamefully, raising your hands to attempt to hide the mess. “i’m so sorry, don’t look—“
soobin grabs your wrists in a rush before you could cover yourself, big brown eyes still glued to your tits. “fuck, bunny..” he marvels, licking his lips, “did i make you do that? that’s so sexy, holy shit—“
“s-sexy?” you stammer, shocked at his reaction. soobin nods.
“can i touch?” he asks in almost a whisper, eyes finally leaving your chest to blink up at you wantonly “please let me touch you, please..”
a hesitant “okay…” was all that he needed, instantly letting go of your wrists to tug down the top of your dress and take large handfuls of your breasts. more milk leaks out onto his fingers from the rough handling, making him groan deep in his chest as he marvels at the sight of the pearly white droplets cascading down the swell of your tits. your spent, sensitive pussy throbs at the sound, your husband sounding so unbelievably ruined and needy.
“so pretty…” soobin mumbles, wet fingertips beginning to pinch and tweak at your embarrassingly hard nipples. “my wife’s so pretty with my babies in her belly. gonna be such a good mommy… god bunny, i want to keep you pregnant forever, all full of me, claimed by me, so everyone knows you’re mine—!”
his fingers tighten harshly around your nipples, the pressure causing your milk to squirt out obscenely; soobin watches in awe, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he pants like a dog, kneads your sensitive swollen tits rougher and rougher. you fist the bedsheets and writhe under his touch, your high-pitched, broken gasps and moans reverberating off the walls of your shared bedroom— briefly you have half the mind to pray that your neighbors aren’t home.
soobin dips his head to nose along the contours of your breast, his hot breath tickling your skin; those spit-slick bunny lips just barely ghost your bud, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as his tongue sneaks out to lap the lingering milk off of your skin.
he looks up at you with watery eyes, smirk plastered on his lips at your pathetic whimper. “can i.. can i have a taste?” he asks quietly, deep voice octaves lower than you’ve ever heard it. “let me taste you…please, baby, i can’t take it anymore…”
you nod desperately, throwing your head back against the pillows, and soobin shoots you a deadly smirk before sealing his lips around your nipple.
he lets out a deep moan as his mouth fills with milk, sucking with a voracious hunger; you cry out in pleasure, letting go of the sheets to grab desperately at his dark hair. you tug mindlessly at the strands as his suction deepens, soobin letting out the prettiest choked whimper that goes straight to your quickly wetting pussy.
he sucks until your tit runs dry, pulling off of your irritated bud with an obscene string of saliva— wordlessly he moves on to your other neglected nipple, his fingers coming back up to play with the one he released. the combined sensations are almost too much for you, your shaking legs wrapping tight around soobin’s trim waist; you can feel the curve of his rock hard cock grind against your dripping cunt, drenching the thin fabric of his boxers and aiding in the delicious slide of his hot fat shaft against your slit. your pussy suddenly feels so painfully empty, your hips bucking in desperation as soobin empties your other breast of milk. “you feel what you do to me?” he mumbles against your flesh, hips picking up speed, “feel how hard you make me?”
the hand you had in soobin’s hair trails down his chest to his straining cock, rubbing his twitching shaft through his boxers; soobin cries out around your nipple, his hips stuttering, and you can’t help but giggle as you dip your hand below his waistband.
the tip of his cock throbs an angry red, thick fat shaft slapping wetly against his taut belly. “all this for me?” you purr, gathering the precum dripping from his cockhead to slick up your hand; it only takes a few slow pumps of his cock to get soobin begging, your poor husband wound up and aching for release.
“please, please baby, let me fuck you— i gotta fuck you, i’m so hard it hurts,” he whimpers, releasing your tit with a wet pop, “gotta fill you up, put more babies in you… gonna be such a happy family..”
what kind of wife would you be to say no?
#txt x reader#soobin x reader#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#txt smut#txt fluff#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#soobin smut#soobin fluff
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ex-boyfriend fratboy!rafe. god help me!
cw. smut (mdni), fem!reader, toxic relationship, alcohol and drug use, mirror sex, degradation kink.
the music sounds distant, muffled by the white-tiled walls that appeared a light, smudged gray thanks to the alcohol fogging your brain—and the way his pelvis kissed your ass with each plap-plap-plap, echoing in the bathroom of a party you weren’t even supposed to be at. for this exact reason. you knew how it would end. with your lame coked-up excuse of an ex inside you.
and still, you couldn't even answer the big, ugly question sitting in your gut: why the fuck do i keep letting him do this? your body had betrayed you again, thighs spread wide and shaking as his cock hit that spot that made your toes curl against the cold tile. and, of course, your eyes met his in the large, square mirror above the sink. a voyeuristic form of self-loathing. as if you needed to confirm, once again, how the promises of, “no, i’m not gonna talk to him, not even look at him, i promise!” made to your friends, were entirely baseless.
perhaps even they had already accepted it—
“fuck,” he groaned, and a grin stretched across his stupidly handsome face as you let out another loud moan when his fat tip grazes your g-spot, bingo. thankfully, for the sake of your peace of mind (because he, more than once, hadn’t cared if the entire party heard how good his cock made you feel), the host’s house was massive. you’d ended up here with him because all the other bathrooms were occupied when the drinks you’d downed earlier hit, and that’s how you found yourself in the second-floor bathroom at the end of the hall. that's how “pee-and-leave” turned into this.
his right hand—the one not gripping your shoulder with his beefy arm wrapped tightly around your trembling torso—moved up, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look into the mirror at the two of you: sweaty, panting bodies.
“fuckin’ look at that,” he panted, gaze flicking down. “hah, shit, look how those two bounce,” he slapped the side of your breast, leaving a hot, stinging mark. he was so mean.
and you hated yourself for clenching around him because of it.
his laugh was this low, mean sound, vibrating against your back as he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat pressing into you like he needed to get as deep as possible. fucking gross. the thought was interrupted by the hot breath skating over the shell of your ear. “see that face you’re making?” he murmured. “‘s my favorite one. you look so—fuckin’—wrecked.”
and god, if he wasn’t right. your eyeliner had betrayed you hours ago, smeared into shadows that made your eyes look too big, too wide, like a haunted doll. your lips were red and swollen, half from the sloppy kiss that started this whole thing and half from biting down so hard to keep yourself quiet. the woman staring back at you was enjoying it, there was no way to deny that.
“shut up,” you hissed, you just wanted to look away. but his fingers curled tighter around your jaw, already marking his digits there.
“you don’t want me to shut up,” he taunted, his hips rolling deeper, lazier. like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. “you love it when i talk, when i tell you how fuckin’ good you’re taking it, like the slut you are.”
you hated him. you hated him so much you could cry—you were going to cry, but for different reasons. you hated the way he always knew exactly what to say, to keep you squeezing him between your slick walls, and getting you addicted every day a little bit more, increasing the dose.
but the worst part—the part that made your chest twist like a wet towel, wringing out something raw and acidic—was how he was right. he always was. every damn time. you hated how he’d figured you out. he was your ex, goddamn it!
because yeah, you did love it. loved the sound of his low voice dragging over your nerves like a matchstick ready to explode a bomb. loved the way his cock stretched you open until it felt like your brain short-circuited, leaving nothing but static between your ears. loved that stupid smirk, too. it wasn’t fair. he wasn’t fair.
you tried to focus on anything else—the way the faucet dripped, the faint bassline pulsing through the floor beneath you, keeping your eyes open. “rafe,” you whispered in a treacherous moan.
his hand slid down your belly, splayed wide like he was claiming you, branding you his. “tell me,” his voice was almost tender now, mockery softened by the way he groaned as you clenched around him. “tell me how much you hate me while you’re drippin’ all over my cock.”
you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. your throat tightened as your hips jerked back to meet his thrusts, sharp and desperate, chasing something you’d regret in the morning along with the hangover. or maybe right after you came. but right now, you needed it like you needed air.
his laughter curled around you, mean and knowing, as his hand slid up your belly, splayed possessively just under your ribs. like he owned you. like he always had, no matter how many times you’d tried to scrape him out of your system. “that’s what I thought,” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple like a kiss. like he thought he was being romantic, like he thought this was some kind of fucked-up love story. “hate me all you want, baby. but this?” his hand slid lower, between your legs, pinching your sensitive clit, making you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood as your legs buckled. “this don’t lie.”
#៹ 𔘓 pinkgic ! ꞌꞋ ࣪#𝓡. 𝓒.#[ ⋆ fem!reader ]#season one!rafe ⤸#fratboy!rafe ⤸#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#pinkgic's works ᡣ𐭩#outer banks
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Creature comforts
Pairings: Jason x fem!reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, head injury
Summary: self indulgent,
“Hood—” your broken voice cuts through his adrenaline rush, echoing through the dark, damp alleyway.
He holsters his guns quickly, “Hey hey hey—hey sweetheart. Look at me.” He brushes the blood stained hair away from your eyes, “There she is…I gotchu sweet thing.” His voice feels so distant, morphed by the modulator in his helmet into something you don’t recognize.
Your eyes start to wander to the mess of blood. He blocks your sight with his body, “No…You of all people, don’t need to see that,” He cups your cheek, tilting your face up, “That’s not for you okay? You keep those eyes on me.”
He removes his gloves. Although his bare hands are clean, the blood is always there.
His fingertips barely touch your cheek, just enough to ground you.
The red of his helmet warps as tears blur your vision. He quickly swipes them away. “That scumbag is not worth your tears.”
His eyes follow your tears as they mix with the blood on your face. Not your blood. He grimaces.
God nothing bad should ever get the chance to touch you. Yet here he was with his palm cradling your face. He, is a hypocrite.
“I’m taking you to my safe house, s’that okay?”
Your throat feels too raw to speak. So you nod.
The world around you tilts, before strong arms wrap around your shoulders, “Easy there sweets, I gotcha.”
He scoops you up. This man who you’ve seen toss full grown men like rag dolls—still surprises you because you weigh nothing. You feel like you weigh nothing, but you’re not holding yourself. Wait he weighs…you to him weigh…you weigh to him like…which one of you weighs nothing?
“Jay I don’ feel good.” You croak.
“Shh I know sweetheart, I know. Almost home.”
You barely register being set down on the bathroom counter.
He unclips his helmet, and tosses it to the floor. Something stirs within when his green eyes meet yours.
“I saw it,” Your voice trembles as unshed tears choke you, “the blood.”
His brows are furrowed with concern, his full bottom lip is almost a pout. Angels above he has never looked softer. It helps sooth every bit of reluctance now that you can see his face again.
Your eyes feel heavy.
His thumb brushes over your brow, “Open those eyes f’me. Please…” You squint at him as he brings a small flashlight to your eye line.
You knew this one, you’d watched asmr videos of it.
“Concoction.”
He huffs through his nose, a smile lilting his mouth, pulling at the scar above his lip. “Concussion sweetness. Follow the light.”
You do so halfheartedly, not much of an overachiever right now. “S’con-cuntion?” Your tongue feels heavy, clumsy in your mouth.
“Yeah…s’okay though I’ve had plenty of my own. You’re staying here tonight.”
The cotton filling your brain makes your nod feel weightless.
A warm washcloth is brought your cheek, you lean into it happily letting it melt the bite of the cold alley still clinging to your skin. God you can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this.
“You with me pretty girl?” He croons, as he wipes the dried blood from your brow, and cheeks.
You nod, almost dazed.
Tears blur your vision, but he doesn’t try to stop you from crying, just patiently wipes them away with the cloth.
Contently closing your eyes you whisper, “Your hands are soft.”
He is careful not to wear his heart anywhere near his sleeve, and somehow you’ve coaxed him into wearing it on his face. “You’re soft.” He murmurs.
The blood is finally gone.
He sets you down on his bed, keeping you propped up on the bedpost, “Don’t lay down yet.” He coaxes.
You focus on the coolness of the wood, until the bed dips next to you.
“I’m gonna help you get dressed, in the least mortifying way for you possible. I’m so sorry but also…” his eyes rake over you, “I’m not letting you catch the disease that killed the dinosaurs.”
Touché. Who knows what Gotham has cooked up in her petri dish.
“S’okay, m’clothes feel gross.”
He nods curtly before oh so gently lifting your sweater over your head, quickly swapping it for his tshirt.
It smells good—like spring—but you wish he’d given you one off his back. It’d smell like him.
You hold up the shirt to keep it out of contact with your pants. As careful as diffusing a bomb he unbuttons them. “Lift your hips f’me.” He holds you steady, one hand on your hip as the other tugs them down your legs. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you lean your body weight against him.
“Ya good like this? I have pants they’re just…large.”
You let the shirt back down, it thankfully falls past your hips. “M’okay.”
You’re weightless again as he lifts you, gently laying you on the mass of pillows.
“Oh hallelujah.” You sigh.
Something brushes your nose, you pry your eyes open to be met with his.
“Swallow these.” You wash the pills down with the bottle of water he presses against your lips.
“You’re gonna hate me for the next 24 hours.” He gently brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumb.
“S’okay ’cause I love you even when I hate you.”
He huffs amusedly. It’s not the same love he feels for you, it can’t be.
“Yeah…I love ya too.”
———
A/n: I stayed up way too late so the concussion yapping is just me trying to figure out what I’m trying to say
#crime alleys angel<3#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd fluff#red hood x reader#dc fanfiction
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omg im so happy ur reqs r open again!!!! I have another one about puppy reader!!! so we know she's different from bunny or bambi reader who r both quiter (or at least that's my perception of it pls disregard this if its not urs) but what if puppy reader is just like rlly energetic and giggly and loves talking to everyone but it can get kinda overstimulating for everything (all the "adults") around puppy reader. so what if rafe gets annoyed and is rlly mean to her infront of his friends bc she's overstimulating everyone (but she's obv sad bc she doesn't know what shes done) and he kinda compares her to another friends gf and is just mean and gross like usual



rafe being mean to puppy!reader during dinner at the wreck with his friends :(
warnings: mean rafe!!! mentions of blood / injuries
wc: 667 — a/n: so i sorta went out on the ending and added john b to this fic because puppy!reader and john b is always on my mind <3 hopefully this fits your request !!!!
it starts innocent enough.
you’re at the wreck — perched on the edge of the table where all the guys are sitting, swinging your legs, rambling about something or other. it’s not even important — just that happy, nonstop little stream-of-consciousness chatter you always have when you’re comfortable. when you feel safe.
you don’t notice the looks.
the way rafe’s friends — kelce, topper, even a couple of kooks — start to exchange glances. smirks. eye rolls. not outright mean, but tired. like they’ve hit their limit with the excitable little golden retriever bouncing in their chair.
rafe notices, though.
he notices everything.
and he’s already in a shitty mood — nursing a beer, sprawled out in his chair, watching you with this flat, unimpressed stare as you giggle and talk and talk and talk.
and then — finally — he cuts you off.
"jesus christ, do you ever shut up?"
it hits you like a slap.
you freeze, mid-sentence, blinking wide-eyed at him.
the table snickers. low, awkward laughs ripple around the group.
"m’serious," rafe drawls, twisting his ring around his finger, voice mean and lazy. "you’re worse than topper’s girlfriend. at least she knows when to be quiet."
more laughter.
hot embarrassment burns up your neck, prickling your skin. you don’t even know what you did wrong. you were just — just talking. being friendly. being you.
but now everyone’s looking at you like you’re stupid. loud. annoying.
your throat feels tight.
"didn’t realize i needed a fuckin’ muzzle to have dinner," rafe mutters under his breath.
that’s what does it.
you barely manage to mumble something about the bathroom before you slip off the bench, head ducked low, heart pounding like you might actually throw up.
nobody stops you.
nobody notices.
except rafe — who doesn’t even look your way, just mutters, "probably gonna go cry about it now," under his breath.
the table laughs.
but you don’t go to the bathroom.
you head for the little window near the back, hands shaking as you pry it open clumsily, not even thinking, just moving. just escaping.
you catch your knee on the frame, scraping it raw — but you don’t stop. you tumble out onto the gravel outside, barefoot, palms dirty, throat thick with stupid, hot tears.
and that’s when you hear him.
"jesus christ."
you jump.
it’s not rafe.
it’s john b.
he’s leaning up against his van, to-go bag in hand like he was just picking up food, staring at you like he’s not sure if you’re real or some kind of stray animal that got loose.
"you runnin' away or somethin’, pup?" he asks, voice low and a little teasing — but soft.
you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand.
"rafe was mean to me..." you hiccup, small and pathetic.
john b’s jaw tightens. barely.
but he pushes off the van, steps closer, crouches a little like he’s trying not to spook you.
"yeah, well. he’s a dick," he says, simple like a fact. "let me see your knee."
you hesitate.
but you lift it — scraped and starting to bruise.
john b huffs out a slow sigh, shaking his head like he’s fighting a smile.
"what’d you do, go feral on ‘em? didn’t like your puppy energy tonight?"
you sniffle harder, cheeks hot.
"didn’t wanna be annoying..." you whisper.
and the way john b looks at you.
it’s not pity.
it’s not brotherly.
it’s something else entirely. warmer. sharper. like he’s looking at something fragile and stupidly precious all at once.
"hey." his voice drops a little. "you’re not annoying. they’re just boring."
your lip wobbles.
john b straightens up, nodding toward his van.
"c’mon, pup. let me clean you up before you bleed out in the fuckin’ gravel."
and as he guides you toward the van — hand finding the back of your neck, rough and easy — he adds:
"bet you didn’t even get your fries before your little escape act, huh?"
it makes you giggle — wet and hiccupy.
but it’s the first time all night you’ve smiled.
#cameronsbabydoll ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#puppy reader ૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა#rafe cameron x puppy reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron headcanons#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x yn#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfic#john b x fem!reader#john b routledge x you#john b x you#john b x y/n#john b routledge x reader#john b routledge#john b x reader#john b prompt#john b x puppy!reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron angst
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.⋆。Inside。⋆.
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader
You’ve never been raw-dogged and filled before, Simon wants to change that
Warnings: SMUT, mentions of drinking and eating food from the ground, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie (obvi), clothed man/unclothed woman, a little ass smacking, cockwarming, bit of an ownership kink and possessive!Ghost, lots of swearing WC: 2k Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
Stakeouts were boring on the best of days, but add in the fact that your partner for the foreseeable future was a brick wall who absolutely refused to make any sort of conversation, you were dying. If you had been stationed with Gaz or Soap, hell even Price, you could have had some entertainment as you sat on the metal folding chair and watched an empty apartment.
But Ghost was nothing if not exceedingly capable of subverting your expectations.
“You ever try buzzballz?” You shifted on your seat, trying to get your numb ass to wake up.
Simon didn’t even look at you.
“Thought not. You’re more of a bourbon guy or beer, but that’s kinda lame.” He grunted under his breath, you took that as affirmation. “Anyways, after that last mission, Soap somehow got his grubby hands on a few of the big ones which are the equivalent of like 12 shots and I’m telling you, they were fucking florescent blue. My tongue was stained the next day.”
He reached for the pack of chewing tobacco in his vest pocket, an unfortunate solution to not being able to go for a smoke any time he needed to. You unconsciously watched his gloved fingers poke through the pocket before catching yourself and turning back to the grimy window you had been previously staring out of.
“But I don’t even know what was in those drinks because suddenly, it’s midnight and this fucker is telling me about how creampies are the best feeling in the world. And I know we’re teammates and we’ve literally seen each other naked in those communal showers on base but somehow that was just a step too far y’a know.” You don’t notice the way your companion stiffened.
“And it was totally gross! Like I have seen that man scarf a sausage that had been on the ground for god knows how long so I can’t imagine that getting creampied would be that pleasant if he’s so obsessed with it. I just can’t even imagine the cleanup either! It would be-“
“’S nice.”
Your head snapped to look over at Ghost so quickly that your neck popped. “What.”
He cleared his throat, brown eyes still staring straight ahead though you suspected he wasn’t looking for the target. “Said ’s nice, cummin’ in someone I mean.” Your face must’ve been shocked as all hell because he finally looked at you, his already dark eyes now voids behind the skull mask. “Feels good. Really fuckin good.”
Heat exploded across your cheeks, his voice was deeper than it normally was, with a rasp that went directly to your center.
“I’ve never…”
He huffed under his breath something akin to a laugh, it was almost mocking. “Figured.”
You forced yourself to look back out the window, even as the thrumming between your legs got worse with every tension-filled second that passed. Ghost was as sexy as he was mysterious; towering over everyone in your squad, there was no question the man was big and you, in some demented part of your brain, wondered if it was proportional. You had never even seen his face but it was often his voice, his hands, that fueled your late night fantasies alone in your bunk.
And you suspected that he knew, especially right now.
“Gets so hot, and tight, feels like your markin ‘er from the inside. Ya keep yourself in as deep as possible as she’s fightin cause it’s too much, but ya keep going.” You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, but instead it slipped quietly from your lips— a whimper sliced through the dingy apartment, and Simon kept talking.
“Ya go till it hurts, fucking it back in and then yer ready to go again… and again… till she can’t even scream anymore. and you’ve stained the sheets beneath you” You gripped the material of your pants so tightly, they would rip if you suddenly jerked. He must’ve known what he was doing to you, but nothing about the way he was slumped down in his own chair, eyes forward, fingers lazily tracing the seam of his kevlar vest said ‘I want to fuck you into the ground too’.
“I could show ya, not much else to do right now.” Your breath caught as he laid a large hand onto your plump thigh, well that definitely screamed it.
“Lt-“
“I’ll keep watch, you just need to bounce. You’ll be good and do that fer me won’t you soldier, so I can show you how good it feels.” Like a trance had come over you, you rose from the seat, your fingers flying to the buckle of your belt as Simon’s hand curved around to the fat of your ass.
“You sure it’ll feel good?” His mask remained blank but the way his grip on you tightened and his thick thighs spread told you everything you needed to know.
“Why are you questioning me when I gave you an order, soldier?” His own belt popped open with a clink and the zipper of his fly slid down, letting you catch a glimpse of what you had been craving so badly.
“Sorry sir.” The words were spit out just like they had been trained to, earning a slightly less displeased huff from your superior. You kicked off your already unlaced boots having undone them the moment you got into the apartment and soon your pants and panties joined the ever-growing pile of your clothes.
“And the top.” He growled, squeezing the mass of his cock. “Doing this fer you, remember.” You nodded and yanked off the t-shirt you were all-too-glad to get rid of, leaving you standing before him just in your ratty sports bra that did very little to contain your tits.
Simon’s breath shuddered before he gestured to the thick material. “Yessir.” You threw it to the side, finally leaving yourself bare to his molten gaze. Your arms itched to cover the expanse of your curves but your mind refused to disobey, even as the man before you froze save for the heaving of his massive chest.
He studied every inch of you, from the seam where your thighs met to the plushness of your plump stomach, from your strong arms to the way your tits sat just waiting for his touch. You watched with the keen eye of a sniper as his bare forearm tensed and released, the tendons working as he squeezed himself over the material of his pants.
“Can we start sir?” You dared to ask, half-expecting an immediate rejection, but he just chuffed and pulled himself from the open fly.
“Damn impatient thing.” To say he was big was an insult— he was monstrous. Thick and uncut with a dense thatch of hair that you knew would scrape against your clit perfectly when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. A bead of hazy liquid builds on the very tip of his substantial length and you wondered briefly how white-hot it would feel when it was inside of you.
“Gettin’ cold here soldier.” His thighs spread apart even wider, enticing you to come closer. You wanted to ask if it would even fit but you doubted it would make a difference.
The muscles of his shoulders just barely gave way as you gripped onto them, your nails digging in deep as you swung a leg over his bulky hips, settling onto his lap. His cock rested between you, nestled against the softness of your cunt, getting wetter with your combined arousal. His eyes sparkled while he watched you slowly get comfortable with the feel of him.
“C’mon angel, don’t have all day. Price ’s coming to relieve us at 0300 and I’ll need at least two rounds outta you.” You were jolted forwards by his leg shoving you up, making you hover over his head.
Shoving a shaking hand between your bodies, you took ahold of him and lined him up with your dripping entrance. A worried breath escaped you and then, you sank down, swallowing him whole.
“Fuuuuuuck.”He hissed through his teeth while all words vanished from your mind. It burned and ripped through you but nothing had ever felt as good as this, like his cock was perfectly tailored to fill you up just the way you needed it. Simon’s hands flew to your wide hips, gripping them with just force that you knew there would be ugly-looking bruises you’d have to explain away later.
His hips canted up, unable to stop himself from forcing himself even deeper, chasing the tightness of your cunt. “Si.” You sighed, head falling to the crook of his neck, earning you another punch upwards.
“Takin’ it so fuckin well, knew you fuckin would. Made fer my fuckin cock weren’t ya. Shoulda done this the first time ya looked at me with those fuckin eyes.” His accent grew deeper with every thrust, his words getting more and more unintelligible as your joint pleasures mounted.
You slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, desperately trying to meet his brutal pace, earning a muffled groan of approval. A gloved palm met your bare ass with a harsh slap, forcing a loud moan from you.
“That’s it angel. Just needed to be properly fucked didn’t ya? All quiet now, my perfect little soldier.” Your teeth sank into his neck as the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. “So close ain’t ya, need that little bit more.”
“Please Si, please.” He immediately shoved your legs further apart to fit his hand between you, the pads of his index and middle fingers finding your throbbing clit as his cock hammered against your g-spot.
With only two jerky circles, you shattered above him. You back bowed as your forced yourself down to the hilt, you pussy rippling around him while Simon struggled to fuck you through your high.
“Gonna make me cum angel. Gonna show you how good it fuckin feels to be filled.” His thrusts grew sloppy but his words continued to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily at this point. “Mark you as fuckin mine.” He snarled.
Your body shook with the power of him, it took all your strength just to take it, let him use and fill you. His cock started to twitch inside of you threateningly. You wanted him to do it, to prove to you how good it felt to be owned from the inside.
“Cum inside, wanna feel all of you.” Your lips brushed against where his ear was beneath the mask, your breath sending goosebumps all over his body. “Make me yours.”
His muscles seized below your palms, rippling and moving so beautifully that you never wanted it to end. He buried himself all the way inside you as he let out a beautiful, raspy moan. Heat exploded deep inside of you, spreading through your veins like a hot bath on a cold winter's day. The feeling of his so deep within you as his cock began to soften was unlike anything you had experienced before and suddenly you knew why the Scot was so obsessed with it.
Simon finally went limp below you, though made no move to remove you from his lap nor your cunt from around his cock. You settled against his chest, now overly aware of your nakedness and the fact that he was still fully clothed, including that stupid skull mask, though you weren’t wholly opposed to it. His arms encircled you, jerking you a bit as he did something behind your back before he hugged you close.
“Look at me angel.” Your hazy gaze turned upwards, meeting the intoxicating brown of his irises. A now bare hand cupped the fat of your cheek, his thumb coming to rest on the curve beneath your eye. “We’re doing this again, over and over until even Soap-“ He spat his name like it was an insult, “-knows exactly who ya belong to. You’re gonna always be dripping with me. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” You murmured, exhaustion closing in on you.
“Good girl. Now get some shut eye, ain’t done with you yet.”
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No Regrets
My roommate's body keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to be making the first move. It was weird enough when my roommate and his girlfriend swapped bodies for the weekend, but the unspoken tension was starting to become unbearable. "Seriously, Tiffany, you're starting to creep me out. Don't you and Daniel have plans for tonight?"
She just smiled at me. "No plans. I'm still deciding how I want to spend my evening. Daniel, though... he's taking my body out clubbing tonight. He wants to see how many free drinks he can score, and I think he's also planning to get laid." Gross. I knew better than to say anything out loud, but my face must have given me away. "Don't be such a prude, Jeff. You know we have an open relationship."
I tugged at my collar. "I know, Tiff, I'm sorry. I just... body swaps that cross the gender line still make me uncomfortable. It feels wrong, somehow. And, I mean, technically they are illegal."
"Oh please, get over yourself," she said, tossing herself onto his bed. "Swaps over 12 hours are also illegal, but that didn't stop you from hiring someone to take your Calc exam two weeks ago. You need to learn how to relax. Not everything you were told on Sundays is true, you know. Some things aren't actually all that bad. You're only clutching your pearls because society told you that swapping genders was bad. What harm is there, as long as both people consent?"
I wanted to argue, but I knew Tiffany was absolutely correct. There wasn't anything wrong with the two of them swapping bodies outside of society telling us that men and women could only swap with other men and other women. Which... given the way that their open relationship also defied societal expectations, I suppose it wasn't too much of a surprise that the two of them thought so little about swapping like this. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I... I'm trying, really. You've heard how conservative my childhood was. It's a lot to unlearn."
"Well, maybe it's time to start unlearning," she said, beckoning me closer. "You want to know the real reason I'm still here? It's because of you, stud. I'm here to see you." Did Tiffany just call me a stud? She had to be mocking me, but I could feel myself blushing all the same.
Tiffany started to unbutton my shirt, brushing her fingers along my exposed chest as she did so. I could feel myself growing erect. Were we... were we really doing this? They were in an open relationship, after all, it wasn't like he was helping Tiffany cheat on his roommate. With his roommate? God, Swappers made things confusing.
"I've seen the way you look at Daniel," she said, rubbing a hand across the stubble on my chin. "I love the man, but he's too straight and too clueless to pick up on those stares. And honestly, I can't help but think that you're too sheltered to realize you're even doing it half the time."
"I... thought I was hiding it better," I said, trying to steady my emotions. Her fingers started to tease my nipples, leaving me squirming with raw pleasure. "I still don't know if I'm bisexual, or gay, or just... Mormon. But I didn't think it mattered. He's already in a relationship with you. What I want isn't important."
"He's in an open relationship," she said, staring at me like I was a hunk of meat to be devoured. "He's also not here right now. I'm in control of this body right now, and I want to fuck you senseless. If that's what you want too, well..." Tiffany slipped her hand inside my waistband, giving my manhood a firm squeeze that had me gasping for breath. "Tonight's a perfect night to let loose. No regrets."
I couldn't hold back anymore. I leaned in for a quick kiss, which Tiffany returned with tongue. The two of us stripped down as fast as we could, though I made certain not to let her pull me onto the bed with her. "Not on Daniel's bed," I said, dragging her over to my part of the bedroom. "His sheets reek of frat boy sweat, and I doubt he has any lube."

"I, uhh... you're alright with being on top, right?" I asked, as I handed her the bottle of lube from my nightstand. It occurred to me that we hadn't actually talked through any plans, set boundaries, or anything like that. "The way you phrased it, I'm assuming that's what you meant, I just--"
"Stop. Thinking." Seeing Daniel's face looming over me, with a look of pure lust on his face, it was everything I never knew I needed. I started rolling over onto my knees before she yelled at me. "Not like that, stay on your back. I want to see your face as I fuck you senseless."
Tiffany spent the entire time telling me exactly what to do, and it was everything I could have ever wanted. She got me lubed, eased me onto her massive manhood, and railed me like there was no tomorrow. My chest was coated in strands of my own cum, while Daniel's cum slowly leaked out of my ass. I'd never had a no-hands orgasm before, but holy hell I could not believe how amazing that felt.
"I can't believe we just did that," I said, trying to catch my breath. She responded by scooping up some of the jizz off of my torso and putting it into her mouth. She was making an entire production out of licking it off of her finger, and I could feel myself getting hard again. "So, uhh... you... you'll be in Daniel's body for the entire evening?"

"If that's your way of asking me if I'd like to fuck you again? The answer is yes," she said, giving me a wink. "Even better, we might be able to make this a weekly thing," she added, standing up to grab some towels. "I don't think I'll have to fight too hard to convince Daniel to swap. What sort of straight man doesn't enjoy having boobs?"
God, I was falling for her so hard. What had I gotten myself into? Life was going to be a long, awkward hell once my roommate was back in his own body. And yet... I had to admit, I had no regrets.
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hiii, oml I saw that you wanted requests for marauders and this one has been itching my brain. so I’d love to know their reactions if their s/o did something disgusting, maybe just eating a weird food combo, my friends always look at me weird because I like eating chicken nuggets and fries with chocolate ice cream, or could just be smth like eating food that fell on the floor, not sure what comes to your mind but whatever you want! thank youuu and have a good day!
"She's doing it again." Sirius's nose scrunches, and he looks firmly away from where you're layering thick, melting layers of peanut butter over a warm cheese sandwich.
"Oh, darling-" James glances up at the ceiling like it'll distract him, but he can still hear the squelching of the peanut butter trying and failing to mingle with the greasy cheese. "We've talked about this."
"It's my favorite!" You plead, sucking a smear of peanut butter off of the pad of your thumb, "You guys eat gross stuff all the time, I don't understand why you always have to get on me about mine!"
"Because it's disgusting." James declares with a tone of finality you'd hear from a professor, "Peanut butter and cheese do not mix. Literally, darling, look at that. The cheese is rejecting the peanut butter. It's trying to save itself from its unholy fate."
The cheese has melted but is starting to harden again, a greasy seal around the gooey melted parts that's preventing the peanut butter from blending fully. But it's no matter, it'll mix in your mouth. You're well aware that your culinary preferences are not for everyone, but you'd like to eat one meal without probing from your dining partners.
"It's pretty gross." Remus admits with a grimace, like he's reluctant to tease you but just can't hold himself back, "It sort of makes my stomach hurt just watching."
"You eat live rabbits," You round on Remus with a piercing glare, "I watched you skin a rat down to the bone. I don't ever want to hear you talk about my eating habits. And you," You direct your attention to Sirius, "Frequently chew on sticks. From the woods. From the dirty, filthy, nasty woods. And you!" James looks like he's prepared for this, to take a turn facing your wrath, "You scoop food up off of the floor! Any floor! The five-second rule should not apply in a dusty dungeon corridor."
You raise the sandwich, dripping with peanut butter and oil, like it's your trophy. You take a triumphant bite while your horrified onlookers find themselves unable to look away, and you speak proudly through a full mouth, "Mine's not raw, bloody, dirty, or dusty, so you can all shut your mouths if you've not got sticks or rabbits in them."
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