#slow faucet leak

[fieriframes]

[Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you. And from a window across the lawn I watched you undress. Wearing your sunset of purple tightly woven around your hair. That rose in strangled ebony curls. Moving in a yellow bedroom light. The air is wet with sound. The faraway yelping of a wounded dog. And the ground is drinking a slow faucet leak.]

[austinwehaveaproblem]

gping insane it turns out when you talk to someone nearly every day for like three years and send them abt 45000 messages a year on average their mannerisms rub off on you . i'm going to cry

[funfooter]

Plumbing Problems and How to Diagnose Them

Common Plumbing Problems and How to Fix Them

Plumbing problems can be both frustrating and costly if left unattended. We understand the importance of identifying and resolving these issues efficiently to avoid further damage to your home. Below, we provide a detailed guide on the most common plumbing problems and practical solutions to fix them, ensuring your plumbing system functions effectively.

1. Clogged Drains: Causes and Solutions

Clogged drains are one of the most frequent plumbing issues homeowners face. Over time, debris like hair, soap scum, grease, and food particles can build up, leading to slow drainage or a complete blockage.

How to Fix Clogged Drains

Boiling Water: Pouring boiling water down the drain can dissolve some blockages, especially soap scum.

Plunger: A plunger can dislodge most clogs by creating pressure to push the debris through the pipe.

Drain Snake: For deeper clogs, a drain snake can break up the blockage or pull out obstructions.

Chemical Cleaners: While effective, chemical drain cleaners can damage pipes if overused. Use sparingly.

[satorena]

✧.* BUT I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAK !?

featuring. g. satoru, f. toji, n. kento, g. suguru, k. choso

warnings. explicit content, foul language, lots of unrealistic expectations (note. title itself), overstimulation (m+f), dickdrunk!reader, dumbification, usage of toys, squirting, spanking, very light spit play, anal, 69 position, breeding kink, unprotected sex, toji’s kinda mean and choso can’t tell the difference between pussy and an asshole. if i forgot anything else my bad !

rena’s note. BUT I LASTED TEN ROUNDS LIKE A FREAK !!! LIKE A G !!!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

“fuh—fuck, oh shit, hah fuck— ‘ts so fuckin’ good!”

you bounced up and down his cock, surface of your palms pressed at the planes of his chest. you enveloped his length entirely, every single inch, in your pulsating pussy, driving the both of you to madness.

it’d been hours, and for whatever was in the air tonight, you both fucked like wild animals. your thighs burned from over-exhaustion, but you were relentless. you were desperate for another orgasm, the slide up and down his inches effortless due to your juices soaking his thighs and his cum from having nutted inside you multiple times prior.

gojo’s firm hands grabbed at your ass, fingers gripping tightly into your soft flesh, grounding you in position so you wouldn’t run. as if you would anyway, tongue lolled out and drool leaking from your rosy tongue and dribbling down his bottom lip.

“that’s it,” he encourages you, a faint smirk at his lips as he guides you down his length. the fucked out look on your face, your dazed eyes crossing to the centre of your face serves a huge ego boost. “my pretty girl—fuckin’ ride this dick baby, ‘s all yours—mmh,”

the sinful sound of your pussy squelching, folds latching at the tip of his dick before ramming yourself down, the lustful melody of your skin slapping against him in addition to the firm spanks of encouragement on your ass, with your high pitched mewls and squealing sounded like divine music to gojo’s ears.

you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down, went back to bouncing up and down, made circles and figure eight shapes on his length, mindlessly dragging your hips wherever felt fit. you were so far past a point of euphoria you weren’t even sure if liquids could come out of you for the rest of the night.

“eyes here princess,” gojo brings a hand to cup your jaw, forcing your head back down to face him. “pretty pussy’s griping me so tight—fuck,”

your sweaty foreheads press together, and you clock that he knew you were on the brink of yet again another orgasm. cerulean orbs peered deeply into yours, his hips jerking up and meeting your bounces, aiming to bring you to that high as quickly as he can.

“sa—satoru!” you find is the only thing that comes up in your mushed out brain, the new angle of the position having his dick puncture your cervix. you felt so fucking full of him, so drunk on the pleasure that you failed to notice the coiling in your stomach snapping.

he squeezes at your ass cheeks as hard as he can, the painful pleasure obliging you to sit and take his ramming. he fucks into you with intensity, each drag of his cock at your walls sending you into a temporary state of immobility. your muscles tense as you feel yourself wash with yet again another white-blinding orgasm.

your jaw drops and your eyes roll back, throat exhausted while nothing yet everything is said. satoru pumps his creamy cum back into your womb, praising you for taking him in so well, for having a perfect pussy that’ll surely carry his children, all snug and warm for him.

“perfect fuckin’ pussy—mine, all mine, gonna fuck her full of my nut and have you carrying my babies, yeah? ‘s what you want, isn’t it? atta. fuckin’. girl.”

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈.

“whew, would’ya look at that?” toji whistles, barking out a chuckle as he slows his pace, watching your uncontrollably clenching pussy squirt out your juices like a leaking faucet.

the pressure of your squirting is fucking intense, it has your entire body shaking, thighs quaked and the arch that was once on your back rounded. toji can’t help but laugh as tears stream down your damp cheeks, absolutely in love with how greedy your pussy clamped down on his cock.

“daddyyy—fuck!” your nails claw at the damp sheets on the bed, letting your nth orgasm rake throughout your body.

you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, the sound echoing in the room and you whine loudly at the stinging pleasure. you feel two big hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into that curve.

“nah uh doll,” toji tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. he picks his pace back up, never fully bottoming out, though you wouldn’t even notice with how many inches he packed.

“what’d i tell you?” he reminds you, and you’re too fucked out to answer him as you mumble his name over and over, helplessly taking the stretch of his dick at your gaping cunt.

he slaps your ass harshly again and you cry, fingernails scratching and clawing at the silk material beneath you. your scalp soon stings as he grabs a handful and effortlessly brings you upper body up to meet him.

“answer me when i ask you somethin’ baby,” toji frowns, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, sending chills of nerves down your spine. “basic fuckin’ manners.”

“suh—sorry, ‘m sorry toji!” you apologize feverishly, and moan in satisfaction when his tongue laps up your drool and tears streaking your ruined yet pretty face.

“tsk, should have you do the work yourself,” toji teases you, releasing the deathly grip on your hair, causing your limp body to flop back to the mattress. as if proof to avoid calling his bluff, he releases his hold on you, opting to cross his arms above his head instead.

“n-no! toji, no, please, said i was sorry—‘m so fucking sorry!” you whine and ramble when you feel the lack of contact on your body, and your gaping cunt suddenly emptying.

you slither your hand between your thighs, grabbing at his girthy cock, pumping it a few times before slipping it with ease back into your welcoming warmth. you moan wantonly, clawing at your sheets as you fuck yourself on his dick, pushing yourself back and forth.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he comments with a chuckle, spitting a glob of saliva down to your cunt, watching it dissipate into the creamy pearly veil of your essence around the base of his shaft.

he collects your slick with his thumb, before slipping his fingertip into your puckering hole, your body jolting at the sudden intrusion.

“trappin’ me inside—shit, want me to fuck you full of my cum, yeah? leave you swollen and leakin’, dontcha, pretty baby?”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎.

“‘s too much ken—no more, hah, no more kento!”

you whined and begged, fists clenching as your muscles tensed, back arching off the mattress and toes curling while digging your heel at his shoulder blades. the sound of buzzing filled your hearing, the toy vibrating against your swollen clit ruthlessly while nanami fucked your cunt open with two thick fingers.

“mmh, safe word princess, or else i can’t hear you.” he reminds you, the words ghosting off his lips and sinking into your supple flesh, his lips trailing soft and gentle kisses at your inner thighs.

here he was, giving you an out, and despite claiming enough was enough, you didn’t want it to end just there. with your senses heightened, both your sight and touch restrained, the pleasure emitting from in between your thighs buzzed blissfully and tenfolds through your nervous system.

you released the clench of your hands and opted to scratch at the wood of the headboard you were tied to, projecting your want to touch your boyfriend through the clawing.

“i can keep—hnng—going!” you tell him, legs closing in on the sides of his head. you hear him tut disapprovingly, and you immediately fault your mistake, forcing your legs back open.

“there’s my good girl,” his honeyed voice rings through your ear drums, and it admittedly has you dripping even more on his fingers that curled at your insides. “just need one more from you—can you do that for me?”

you nod your head, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “mmh, yes—yes i can kento!” you can feel your blood circulation cutting off at the areas were you’re bind, the shortage of blood messing with your already weak body.

the toy playing at your bundle of nerves is painful, having overstepped the boundary of comfortableness and stepping into a new territory of foreign, and you had failed to notice when nanami added in a third finger. you were sure with how much you came just on his hands alone, his watch was drenched in your juices.

those big fingers fuck you open, knuckles pressing into your spongy walls and triggering all sorts of pleasurable feelings throughout you, your stomach tightening into a familiar hot feeling, and you know you’re close again.

“kento, baby i—‘m gonna—fuckkk!” you want to card your fingers through his soft hair, tug and pull and release your pleasure onto his scalp.

“let go for me sweetheart, wanna taste your sweet essence,” nanami swaps the toy for his tongue and flicks at your clit. you feel the dam in your gut release at the sudden warmth exhibiting, and you spray him in pathetic squirts of your juices.

your body trembles as it contracts and gives nanami everything you have left to offer. you squeeze his head in your thighs, moaning wildly as his pace with his fingers never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

he swaps his tongue out for the toy again, and you wail out a broken cry, body at its limit, still stuck between coming down from your orgasm and greedily wanting another one.

he strokes your slit, collecting all your essence as he licks his lips eagerly.

“good job princess. taste so heavenly, i’ve never had anything like it before. i’ve gotta have another sip, will you let me have another taste, my love?”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.

“c’mon, focus sweetheart. do that f’me, yeah?”

you nod your head, mouth too full of dick as you opt to bob up and down. your jaw aches, feeling as though it’s being ripped apart. you force your aching wrist to work up and down geto’s cock, stimulating what you fail to get down your throat.

it would’ve been a simple task for you to focus on, had suguru not been feasting on your pussy like a starved man. he spreads your folds open, tonguing at your insides as if he dug for gold, grabbing both your cheeks in his big hands and spreading you open. he never half assed anything, much less pussy eating.

his skin was soaked in your squirt, orgasms came rolling in and out of you as did the occasional pumps of two fingers into your cunt while he ate you out. you would moan in pleasurable pain, the sounds vibrating on his shaft, which would induce him to moan into you, causing you to moan back on him, the cycle this repeating.

you were greedy—you could complain about how it was too much all you wanted, at the end of the day, you would pause on his cock to grind your hips back and forth on his face, the slip from your slick on his cheeks and nose making the grinding easier.

his nose would bump into your clit and you’d shiver from head to toe, the oversensitivity catching up to you. the free hand at your ass cheek would graze at your puckering hole but never dared to slip inside. all these mixes of stimulations had your eyes crossing, mouth gaping wide which made fucking your throat much easier for geto.

“sweetest cunt i’ve ever had,” he groans in between your thighs, bringing his hand to spank at your wet folds, and your arch your back at the stinging pleasure, your toes curling as your body shook.

the slap at your pussy made flicks of your juices land on his face, and so he landed a few more blows while simultaneously jerking his hips up into your mouth, forcing you down on his cock.

it was all too much— it hurt so good, the strikes at your cunt, his tongue lapping your liquids as he scissored your insides for additional pleasure. how was he expecting you to get him to finish for a second time when he was driving you to the brink of yet again another countless orgasm?

“wanna soak in your juices mama,” he speaks, mouth full of cunt, but you still grasp the message. you subconsciously push your hips back into his face, wanting to abide to his request.

“‘m so fuckin thirsty—don’t you dare be selfish with me. cum in my mouth. be the good girl i know you are and share yourself with me—need it, pretty girl.”

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎.

“y’feel so good, fuck—sucking me in, oh shit baby, never wanna stop fucking you! please, need your pussy always!”

he’d finally gotten a feel of sex for the first time, and he was already hooked. his locks matted to his forehead from sweat trickling down his nose and plopping down onto you.

“wait—slow d-down cho’—hngg!” you moan, nails clawing at his back, scraping and marking the pale skin. you felt your body recoil entirely with each sharp thrust he pounded into your worn out pussy, dragging each and every inch of his length in and out.

your knees were bent at your ears, feet dangling by his head as his hips slammed into the back of your thighs, marking the skin red from the brash contact. the springs from your bed resonated loudly in the room, as did the creaking of your headboard, but nothing topped choso’s loud whimpers.

he’s too lost in his own pleasure, he starts to mistaken to stinging and achy feeling in his gut and loins for a sign to keep going, “never wanna stop—shittt, need to fuck this pretty pussy every. fucking. day.”

you’ve given up on convincing him otherwise, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his hips digging into yours, stretching your pussy open to fit him inside. you creamed around his dick, your essence resting at the hairs on his pubic area, giving him easy access to slide in and out of you.

his arms wrapped around you tightly, refusing to let you out of his grip, one arm beneath your back and holding you from there and the other wrapping around your shoulders. you were stuck in his embrace, bodies moulding into one as you were split open by a fucked out first timer.

in his excitement, he slips out and wastes no time to grab his base and shove it back into a warm tightness, failing to acknowledge your sudden gasp. his mind is clouded with sex, and if he didn’t know better, you were suddenly much fucking tighter, and shit that drove him on edge.

your arms tighten behind his back as you adapt to the sudden intrusion from an area you hadn’t yet explored. “cho—baby wait—mmhm, fuck, that’s my—!”

“‘m gonna cum—fuck y/n, tell me you’re close too. shit, need to fill you up with my cum, please!” the man seals his lips onto yours, panting and begging for this next orgasm, shifting all of his body weight into the hole that keeps greedily latching onto him.

your eyes water as they stream tears down your cheeks. it’s a new and painful sensation, but simultaneously a pleasurable one, and your body granted you the opportunity of yet again another orgasm from the different stimulation. “hah—gonna cum!—make me cum, choso!”

you spray yourself all over, your pussy clenching around absolutely nothing as your ass gets rammed into and fucked like a pro. choso groans and whines against your lips, brows furrowed at the centre of his forehead as he empties himself into your warmth.

“fuck yes—take it all baby, ‘s all yours—need you to milk me and take it all in—your pussy’s the best, i swear to everythin’, shit!”

i am SO tired.

[cheesit-notes]

TASK FORCE 141

and how they fuck you

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, rough fucking, raw dogging it, riding (cowgirl), finger fucking, slow ghost, thigh riding, fucking in front of recruits a/n: teehee pls don't ban me for this Tumblr, this is 18+

soap who likes fucking you rough, and even rougher when in front of the recruits. not really into condoms, likes it raw kinda guy you know? don't worry, he'll do tons of foreplay for you. kisses trail from your face down to your thighs. will get down on his knees to eat you out, and mind you, he's as good as he says. he honestly forgets about any forms and sorts of dirty talk at this point because he's too busy, your moans do most of the talking. by the time you're ready, he's already superr impatient. his pants strained and he's leaking precum like a faucet, he's been so patient up until now so he feels like he deserves a reward. his reward being he gets to ram his cock into you with little to no warning^^ if you think being fucked hard and rough is the end of it, you're wrong. he's a cocky fucker, he'll fuck you in front of the recruits just to show them who's better.

gaz who has you ride him, cowgirl style. you could be on the couch in the common area or in his barracks on the bed, doesn’t matter. he’ll sit there and watch as you do all the work. at first you’re doing so well and he’s praising you for it but after a while, you start to get tired :( poor you. he knows when you’re slowing down and he can get soo mean. a hand on your hip as he instructs you to go faster, harder, until he has you slammed down, bottoming out in you. the entire time, he’s spitting out insults about how you can’t do something as simple as riding him properly. cums inside you, sticky hot white cum drips down your thighs as you try to get up before his hands force you down on him again. he’s just trying to keep the cum where it belongs so let him fuck it back into you, yeah?

ghost who, surprisingly, likes fucking you slow. really slow. so slow in fact you start begging him to go faster. it feels like he’s teasing you with how little he’s giving you, but he’s enjoying it. there’s two position you’re in: on your knees taking him from behind with his hand on your stomach, or on your back with his thumb pressed over your abdomen. has at least a finger over your stomach to feel the bulge as he slides in and out. shit gets him high. calls you his little doll ‘cause you’re honestly just laying there letting him do whatever. he cums just from feeling the bulge that’s his cock in your stomach. even after he’s all soft, he’ll still shove some fingers in. he’ll curl his fingers and they’re so big and fat, and god, even his fingers stretch you out. this’ll go on for hours until you’re a babbling crying mess who came just from some fingers. he’s got all the time in the world to play with his doll.

captain price who’s a more hands-off kinda guy. he won’t even fuck you until you’ve cum from riding his thigh. making a mess over his pants as your legs tremble from the sensation. shoves toys in your cunt in the morning, “quiet, i’know you can take it”, so by nighttime you’ll be all wet for him! he’s not rough like soap, and not slow like ghost, he’s just normal fucking. not too rough, not too slow, just right. trust, he’s got tons of experience so he knows how to please a woman. if there’s one thing to complain about, it’s his death grip on your thighs. it doesn’t stop at red markings that last for hours or days, there are bruises on your thighs that can last up to weeks. he takes making you unable to sit normally to a whole new level. price is like soap in some ways, he wants to show people that he’s superior but not as obvious as soap. he won’t fuck you in front of the recruits, but you will be riding his thigh during briefings with the team.

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[yawnderu]

MORE!! NEET!READER!! I’m obsessed with this it’s so silly and cute <33 I love your writing I can scroll through your page for hours 🍒

“Y'wanna what?” Simon almost chokes on his water at the request, looking down at you with raised eyebrows. He's always been an expressive man, even more so underneath the heavy layers of his balaclava— even more so with his best friend.

“Wank you.” You repeat quietly, slightly nervous hands fidgeting with the edge of your notebook while your head rests on Simon's meaty thigh, shamelessly resting on your knees in front of him the same way you used to do when you were much younger.

Simon's fingers drum against the plastic of his water bottle, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries his best not to laugh at the blunt request, not a single social cue in that little head of yours.

“An' what do I get in return?” Your scrunched up face makes it almost impossible to hold back his laugh, forcing Simon to take a deep breath before his rough, calloused hand goes to caress the length of your hair, subtly pulling you in closer.

“Well, you get wanked...” Simon's hand drifts down to your face, gently cupping your cheek and forcing you to make eye contact, your fingers running along the length of the notebook in your hands as you look up at him expectantly.

Simon's stare isn't half as intimidating when you know how much of a cry baby he used to be as a kid. The corners of your lips tilt up into a small smile as you think about a much younger and innocent version of him— only for the bastard to take the chance to sneak two of his fingers into your mouth, making you recoil back out of pure instinct.

“Tosser.” You try to slap his hand away only for him to grab your wrist out of reflex, shooting a cheeky smirk your way when you look up at him with disbelief. For someone as big as Simon, he's surprisingly gentle, giving you time to protest as he makes your hand run up his thigh, slowly inching towards his already hard cock.

“Go on, then. Give me a proper wank.” Seeing how you don't pull away, Simon wastes no time on lowering the band of his sweatpants, hooking it under his balls to keep in place. You scramble for the notepad on your lap with your free hand, finding a blank page to write about his body's reactions, much to his amusement. Simon doesn't mind being used as an experiment— not when his best friend keeps making him cum.

Your soft hand wraps around his length, feeling it throb beneath your palm as you take notes with your free hand. Simon's dick is as pretty as they come; 21 centimeters of thick meat, green veins running along the shaft, the head of it always seeming to be leaking like a pathetic, broken faucet.

Simon groans the moment your hand starts to move up and down agonizingly slow, a small grin pulling at the corners of your lips the moment his legs part, giving you more room to do whatever you want to him. Your hand goes up to the tip of his cock, rubbing it with your fingers and palm, gathering the precum leaking down only to use it as lube to be able to jerk him off better.

“Fuck.” Simon's head is thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down the moment your now sticky hand goes back to his shaft, muffled deep grunts and moans leaving his lips. Discipline, precision, and control are what Simon built his entire life on, all broken down by you the moment he can feel your warm breath hitting his cock, your flat tongue licking his tip with curiosity that, if it wasn't for how pent-up Simon is, he wouldn't have minded.

Simon's hand joins yours, guiding the rhythm of the handjob to something he needs— hard and fast, your soft digits caressing the thickening veins every once in a while until he can't take it anymore. Without a warning, Simon shoots ropes of thick, hot cum all over your face and tongue, making you let out a surprised yelp at the sensation and taste, already busy taking new notes as you absentmindedly make him ride off his orgasm, feeling new ropes of more watery cum fill your mouth and overwhelm your senses.

Half-lidded brown eyes focus on what you're writing, resisting the urge to roll his eyes despite his intense orgasm, his hand now softly caressing your cheek, making sure to spread his warm cum all over your cheek.

Slightly salty and too thick, doesn't taste that bad.

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 ����𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

summary: tonight, innocent and virgin!reader will be defiled, deflowered, tarnished—whichever word you prefer. from the moment she told them she was ready to lose her virginity, they’ve been carefully planning out a special night, for her. and shockingly, there’s not an ounce of fear, anxiety, or doubt in her mind—max and charles have gained her complete trust. they haven’t given her a single reason to believe that they wouldn’t treat her right. she couldn’t have asked for better men to take her virginity—if this is corruption, she’s delighted to experience it. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. safe sex. penetrative vaginal sex. corruption kink. oral sex. cunnilingus. multiple orgasms. fingering. handjobs. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. sweetheart charles leclerc. sweetheart max verstappen. word count: 3.1k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: wet dreamz • j.cole

preface: word to my mother, i've gained 400 followers from this series alone and that terrifies me. because it means a 2k special is coming soon, and this was a crazy experience, and me thinks i'm not ready to do it again so soon. thank you for the love on this series, and i might do little snippet pieces for it in the future, but goddamn do i need to sleep for a few days to make up for the sleep i lost getting this done lol. enjoy loves, send me plenty asks about this series and i'll respond when i have the time!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents ↻

your thighs are mottled with bruises and bites, some sensitive enough that you can feel the skin throb. charles–who’s came twice–looks deliciously delirious in between your legs. his green eyes are wide and glassy, solely locked onto your cunt. his parted lips are swollen and flushed red from his generous treatment of your inner thighs. his hands have a tight grip on the tops of your legs, his veins popping at the force of his grip as they keep you spread open enough–your heart stutters as you realize he’ll leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints and palms on you too. you see the muscles of his shoulders and biceps straining to reach your tantalizing warmth splayed out right in front of his face but, he’s held back with max’s hand firmly keeping his head pulled backwards. 

“charles, give her at least two. you’re welcome to use your fingers.”

max releases his grip, and charles rushes forward to taste the wetness that’s already leaked from your pussy. the monegasque’s moan is muffled against you, but it still manages to be the same volume as the shocked moan that escapes you. eagerly, the younger man drags his tongue through your folds, relishing in the plush pinkness he never wants to leave, and shifts to suckle on the hood of your clit. you cry out, back arching at the focused pleasure–and max sighs. he sees the drool from charles’ overeager perusal leak out of the corner of his mouth; he’s glad he put down the towel you told him to get. sure, max is well aware that you tend to drip like a broken faucet but, charles can tend to get a little…messy, when he’s using his mouth.

charles pulls your first orgasm from using all of his energy dragging his tongue across your labia frantically, pausing either to draw rapid circles against your clit or tease the entrance of your cunt without pushing his tongue in. you shudder forcefully, hands flying down not to pull the monegasque off of you, no, but to keep his mouth on you. it’s not like he needed the help—he wasn’t going to pull off until max tore him away. regardless, he is mindful of your oversensitivity, and slows the assault of his tongues to slow swipes, humming deeply at the gush of wetness that seeps into his mouth.  and when your thighs stop fighting against his hands keeping you spread open, when he feels the tensed muscles go dormant—he pushes his tongue into you, happy your orgasm caused you to relax and allow him to slip in.

and, this is when you lose your mind.

his tongue is dexterous, firm, and unyielding, his plush lips brush against the outside of your cunt and only causes more bolts of pleasure to rocket up your spine. he’s unrelenting–he moves with the overwhelmed bucking of your hips, you’re not sure if you’re trying to move away or move closer, and it doesn’t matter because charles follows you without the solution of his moth slipping away once. he whines highly into your pussy, and the vibration only has you making sounds to mimic him. your tummy undulates, tensing and relaxing with every thrust of his tongue, and he shifts one of his hands away from your thigh to push down on your navel. he changes the angle of his head and his nose bumps against your clit from the force of his jaw working against your entrance.

the combination of the clit stimulation and the pressure on your navel, causes your eyes to roll back with a heaving chest, the orgasm dancing somewhere on the back of your eyes. 

“such a pretty girl,” max adds from where his eyes are stuck on your cunt, and you cum.

the towel underneath you has a wet spot spreading, and charles allows your thighs to shut around his head as your hips push up dragging your pussy on the lower half of his face to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. this feels twice as intense as the first, and based on the way you can hear your blood rushing in your ears, and feel your heart beating in the back of your knee, you know you’ll never settle for riding a thigh again.

you attempt to squirm away from his mouth, hips twisting desperately to try and escape the pain-tinted pleasure of charles’ talented tongue, but the man follows every shift of your motions, with his half-lidded eyes giving the expression of him being entranced. it does end up taking max forcing charles away from you when the tears gathered in your waterline spill down your cheeks. and the sharp flare of pain from max tugging at his hair, clears the haze in charles' eyes and the cotton stuffed in his ears.

if his lips were swollen before, you don’t know what to call the state of them now. you screw your eyes shut to avoid looking at the pleased glimmer in his eyes, it only makes a surge of arousal peek out again. 

“schatje, i said you could use your fingers too,” max prods at charles’ shoulder with a pout on his face.

“i,” the man says airly, “didn’t need to. i made her cum twice, like you wanted me to.”

“ah, well, move out of the way, cha,” max hums throatily, “if you didn’t use your fingers, i guess i’ll have to,” your eyes fly open as you look at max in surprise, “do you think she can handle a few more?”

the monegasque pulls back, allowing max to fill the space without arguing, and looks away from him to pierce you with a lustful glance, “she knows what to say if she wants us to stop. let’s find out her limit tonight, maxy.”

they’ve broken you. max and charles said they got you to five orgasms that night, but you don’t really remember anything after the fourth. you vaguely recall charles eating you out while max rubbed at your clit (it was a hot image, there’s no way you’d forget that), but anything over four orgasms you can’t expect to process.

however, the night was such a pleasure even if you can’t remember the last half of it—they’ve absolutely erased your fear of oral. or, sex in general. you say they’ve “broken you,” because they actually have, it feels like your eyes have been peeled open wide from how they’ve indulged you. you thought it was bad enough when you gave yourself a friction burn when you were humping them like a dog in heat, but this is objectively worse.

charles emerges from his gaming room after his stream to refill his water bottle and you drop to your knees in the middle of the kitchen to give him head. max makes a comment about how addicting you taste over dinner and you shove the plates to the side to climb on the table and let him eat you out like a buffet. charles is losing a game of fifa to max, so you gave him a hand and stuffed a hand down max’s pants to give him an advantage (he still lost, so it was just a convenient excuse to get the dutch off). 

most recently, you and the men were laying in bed, letting your breathing slow down and the sweat cool after you let your legs fall open for them wordlessly. 

“it’s clear i trust you both with my entire being, right?”

charles and max pause their quiet chatter and turn to look at you, “oui, “ “of course.”

“ok, well: i want you to take my virginity,” the two gape at your blunt words, “it’s what this has been leading to, and i said on the very first night that i was ready to have sex with you. i trust you guys, and i’m ready.”

max, for all he likes to run his mouth, is silent. charles picks up his slack.

“thank you for trusting us, mon coeur. having your trust to allow you to perform the most intimate and vulnerable actions with you is something we thank you for. give us time, mon amour, we want to make the night special for you, a perfect night that you deserve, yes?”

you smile wide, and nuzzle your face into max’s bare chest who only chokes on his agreement with charles, and respond, “a night that i deserve. i like the way that sounds.”

the night that you deserve, comes two weeks later, in a week and a half-gap between race weekends. you have mixed feelings about flying air-max, but privacy is something that you can’t beat. they’ve promised you five days in a private villa in mallorca (after a few recommendations, courtesy of carlos), just the three of you. and it’s beautiful, the villa, the land, your boyfriends. 

you questioned why the vacation needed to be five days long, when they only needed a night to have sex with you. charles raised an eyebrow at you, unsure if your question was of a serious nature. max answered, “do you think one night will satisfy us?” your brown-skin lit ablaze, and you didn’t feel the need to answer the question.

the three of you fall straight asleep once you arrive in the villa—and you don’t know why there was a slight twinge of disappointment swirling around your mind. it’s not like you expected your tired boyfriends to fuck you after a greuling weekend; you’d rather them be properly rested and well energized for that activity. and in the morning, you’re woken up by max peppering kisses along your neck and charles tracing unknown patterns across your waist, and a brief smidge of nerves floats across your consciousness before disappearing. the nerves weren’t needed anyways, because when you try and deepen each man’s morning kisses, they slip out of bed and scold you for trying to ruin their plan. while your cheeks flame at the warning, your heart warms at their seriousness—they made a special night just for you. 

they feed you breakfast in bed, coax you into a mid-morning nap, join you for a shower, let you lounge in a hammock while max embarrassed charles in football, they join you in another nap in the shaded cabana, and by the time you wake up it’s settling into the evening, and the boys rouse you into preparing dinner with them.

the evening belongs in one of the rom-com movies max claims to hate but secretly loves. charles is playing romantic french songs quietly through the sound system, max steals bites of ingredients right out of your hands, charles is firmly kept away from any knives and his only job is to shred parmesan for the carbonara you’re putting together, and max pops open a bottle of wine with a date so old you fear to learn its price tag. 

dinner simultaneously crawls and flies by. the anticipation for tonight’s dessert has you nearly vibrating through the chair and you can see the amused smiles on the men’s faces. the minute dishes are set to wash, they lead you to the bedroom.

it’s like the first night all over again.

max sits at the foot of the bed, and charles helps you sit on his lap. the desperation tonight isn’t present; the men are thorough, unrushed, and plentiful in taking their time exploring your body again. max undresses you on his lap, his eyes not falling to look at the length of your body and charles is focused on peeling off his own clothes. the dutch guides you gently to lay on your back, and only with your permission do the two let their eyes wander.

and everywhere they trace with their eyes, they follow with their lips. from your forehead, to your brows, to your temple, to your nose, to your cheeks, to your lips, to your jaw, to your pulse, to your throat, to your collarbone, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your chest, to your ribs, to your wait, to your navel, to your hips, to your thighs, to your calves, to your ankles, and back up to your cunt.

charles has the pleasure of relaxing you with his tongue, while max follows after him with his fingers. when max removes his three fingers, deeming you prepared, the nerves are back. when you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the nerves build. when you hear max hiss at the feeling of charles’ hands rolling the condom on, the nerves amplify–and you panic.

“waitwaitwait,” you rush out, sitting up and pulling your thighs clothes. the men freeze, and quickly reach out to soothe you, murmuring words of reassurance and reminding you they won’t move any further without your consent.

you laugh, embarrassed, “i-i’m nervous…”

charles coos, and sits at your side to pull you into a hug, while max rubs a hand on your waist tenderly.

“liefje, being nervous is normal. i know we’ve talked about how it’s going to feel multiple times, but i understand that’s incredibly difficult from experiencing it. if you want to stop, we won't be mad, answer won’t mind waiting longer,” max says, making sure he holds eye contact with you so you are aware that he’s being honest with you.

you pat and charles so he’ll loosen his grasp on you, and lean back flat on the bed, “will you hold my hand, cha?”

charles bites his lip for a second before he chokes out a “oui,” and locks hands with you. max has to let his eyes shut for a few seconds before he allows them to open again. the innocent lilt to your voice has not lost it’s attractiveness, your inexperience clearly showing and it still sends them both reeling.

max pulls your legs around your waist, and guides the head of his cock against your entrance. he leans down to lock his lips with yours, waiting for you to relax again, and it doesn’t take long. your cunt gives way at a little pressure from max, and the pop of the tip of his dick within you stops your breathing. charles shushes your whine, brushing stray curls out of your face and kissing the back of your hand. your breathing resumes when max presses more within you, and your face tightens and the stretch—it’s not painful in the way you thought it would be, it’s uncomfortable, with a slight twinge of pain you expected, but the fullness makes up for it. 

when max bottoms out, the two of you moan brokenly into each other’s mouths. max sees the uncomfortable look on your face and remains as steady as he possibly can, dropping his head to paint new marks across your neck while you adjust to his size. the two men are probably running their mouths, chattering away their praises at you, and even though you are already too gone to register their words, they turn your brain to syrup and one of max’s “pretty girl”’s you grind your hips forward. 

max hums at the movement, and carefully shifts forward to meet you, his eyes reading your expression carefully. your eyes are glazed over, and they dance loosely around his face before settling on his eyes, and he smiles sweetly, chuckling a little at the embarrassed tint that he knows rests underneath your brown skin. his hips slowly start to turn into a rock, and he brightens at the sighed moans of pleasure you begin to fill the room with. 

charles slides his hand in between your bodies to drag a firm thumb against your nipples, and the two men relish in the sharp squeal you let out–max choking at the even tighter grasp of your pussy. max shifts to rest kneeled between your legs and his next thrust within you at the new angle, has your body trembling against the sheets while a near scream escapes your chest, with toes-curling, and tummy tightening. 

the dutch coos, “oh, that’s the spot—right there—isn’t it, liefje? you’ve been so good for us, pretty girl, yeah? you deserve to feel so good, baby. take it.”

your whines, moans, cries, and whimpers only increase in frequency and volume as max keeps his precise assault on your g spot as his thrusts work up to a faster speed. the sound of your absolutely soaked cunt being speared open by his cock will never leave your mind—the slaps and squelches too enticing. your cunt flutters around max’s cock sporadically, and he turns to charles with a pleased smile, “she’s going to cum already, schatje. it’s a good thing we have a few more days here.”

you whine, taking your free hand and pulling max face back to look at you again, “‘wanna cum! please, maxy—i wanna–”

charles hand that was previously playing with your chest, slips lower and rubs tight and quick circles around your clit, and the surrounding shriek and tightens, has max shaking above you. he hides his face in your neck and his thrusts are movingly quickly now, deep and short movements filled with power that you can hear from the slap of his skin against yours.

your grasp on charles’ hand tightens, and your other reaches mas to dig your nails into his shoulder for purchase, and with staccato breaths, whited-out vision, and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, you cum—and real pleasure coasts over you in waves. 

max slows the forceful rolls of his hips to slight grinds, pressing deep within you and relishing the way your cunt fluctuates around him, and with pure will he staves off his own orgasm while you come down. he pulls his head away from your neck, and searches your face.

your babbling nonsensically, words mushing together in a murmured fashion, with a blissed-out smile dancing across your lips.

“oh–,” max hums, “you’re so gone, sweet girl. haven’t even fucked you for real, and you’ve forgotten how to act.”

charles tuts, flicking max on the hip, “max. be nice to her—your dick tends to make people lose their train of thought.”

“i think she’s lost a little more than her thoughts, tonight,” max snorts, “i’m going to pull out, and you slide in, yeah?”

when the older man pulls out of you, you claw at his shoulders trying to get him to stay on top of you and back inside of you. none of their words soothe you, and max is very glad he’s an athlete and that he’s turned your limbs to jello with your first orgasm to make you malleable. charles is quick to press his wrapped up cock inside you, and moans deeply at the hot and soaking wet channel. your whines and tears at your previous emptiness cease, and you buck your hips up to have charles deeper in you quicker.

“max~,” charles moans highly, the call of his name slurred and clumsy, “putain–ah–she’s too tight, how did you not come?”

“years of fucking you, charlie,” max laughs, pressing a kiss to the monegasque’s temple, “make her cum pretty boy, and then i’ll fuck you too.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri@inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea@dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101@valent1na-ferrari @dark-night-sky-99@svinzlec @angelfreckless @gg-trini@tallrock35 @angelbunny222 @spideybv28 @iloveyou3000morgan

© httpsserene2023

[wifeyoozi]

Ot13 Seventeen : bondage (because the center pic above was on my interest home page and I immediately think of this)

seungcheol : he likes to first buy you dior and Prada and Chanel and then use the ribbons that comes along to tie your hands up when he fucks you that night.

Jeonghan: prolly ties each limb to each corner of the bed guy. Occasionally does that and teases you with toys and edges you all night long, knowing you can't do anything accept submit to him. DW he'll let you come eventually on his dick tho.

Joshua : I said before and I'll say again, he's a shibari guy. Will tie you up and leave you hanging and make you come multiple times in air using his mouth hands and various toys. Will have you crying before he let's you down and have his dick (he ain't the evil twin for nothing)

Jun : the one who likes to be tied up instead. Wants his hands behind his back tied up tightly as you bounce on his dick like he is your boytoy (he is)

Hoshi : ties your wrists and ankles together in a way you're be bending in half and opening for him with no other choice. It can be a completely romantic night or a total hard dom night, depending on his level of tiger that night. you tied up is his yeogi ocean view

Wonwoo: likes to tie around your torso like a harness and then around your neck (comfortably for you) so you'd choke for him just the right amount. Loves the way your boobs pop out of the harness.

Woozi : I have a fantasy that he'll tie you up in his studio one day because of how needy you were being while he was working and then he'll leave a vibrator pressed right against your clit and he has the remote to it so he can randomly change the settings from high to low to max anytime he wants and you're just writhing there, wetting his floor with your squirt and he might even record the sounds you make. it goes on foe eons until he is finally free from his computer and he comes and fucks you with his cock before untying you and taking you home for more (he warned you to not come to his studio so needy again or he'll torture you like that again but that's also the exact reason you keep coming back to his studio with a leaking faucet in your panties)

Minghao : he ties you up with pretty ribbons, makes you his art. He's doing it for the aesthetics but it turns him on so much. Literally wants to drink in the sight of you tied up like that in red ropes. Might take a few photos to see when he's far from you on tours and stuff.

Mingyu : ties your hands to the headboard as he fucks you in doggy. Probably bought those hot pink furry handcuffs just for this purpose. would also find other different creative surfaces throughout the house to tie you up and fuck you on.

Seokmin : he's tying you so gently when you suggested bondage because he's so scared of accidentally hurting you but he'll make them tighter on your encouragement and if you say the right words to him he'll fuck you harder than he has ever before, putting all those beautiful muscles in right use.

Seungkwan : likes to tie up your hands behind your back, esp when he being a harder dom. might even add a gag but not for long because he also loves kissing you. would get worried if the ropes leave red marks and prolly kiss them better as compensation.

vernon : likes to tie your legs together so they are just tight enough for thigh fucking. he isn't big on punishment sex, but on the nights he is going for that (since you were being too bratty all day long, literally asking for it), he'll tie you up so you can't touch yourself and would literally fuck himself everywhere but your puss.

dino : also lowkey into getting tied up instead but he underestimated how eager and needy he could be. his patience cannot deal with your slow speed but now he cant even do anything because he's all tied up and just watches you tease him and eventually bounce on his cock and give him what he desperately needs

[prettiedup]

sweet talk ୨ৎ

choso's princess gets needy when they're shopping, of course he takes care of it. ୨ৎ

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ SWEET TALK ⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆ ---> car sex, p in v, creampie, cowgirl position, shameless use of da word daddy, makin cho da dom of mi dreams lool

choso is naturally nurturing. he makes sure all of your needs are met and he doesn’t think twice when the time comes to provide for you. sometimes. he thinks he provides for you too much. like right now, the sound of your pussy sloppily going up and down on his hardened cock is like a repeated tune in his ears. and your whimpers, those pretty mewls you’re drawing out yourself because choso decided not to help you catch your orgasm.

“you’re a big girl, aren’t you?” he asked once you complained that you were growing tired from doing all of the work. 

you’re practically fucking yourself stupid, moaning and babbling out whatever. you’re not even sure if you’re speaking english at this point. you tried to rest your head tiredly on choso’s shoulder which made him grab your hair and pull your head back.

“needy girls don’t deserve to rest.” he says as he places his hands on your hips. your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he pulls his hips back only to ram his cock inside you a second later. a loud scream escapes from your throat as he does it repeatedly. 

choso briefly looks around, even though he parked in the supermarket's corner, far from most people, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to notice that the car is shaking. he decides that he needs to hurry and get you to cum around his dick before the two of you get caught.

“fuckin’. needy. girl.” with every word his sliding his cock through your fluttering walls. he could feel your arousal leaking down, dripping from his cock to his balls. he wishes he had more time so that he could make you clean up your mess. ”can’t even wait till we make it home.” he slaps the fat of your ass.

“‘m sorry, cho! jus’ wan’ it so bad.” you cried out. you could feel the impending orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. your xl square shaped nails dig into his shoulders the harder he fucks you.

 he suddenly stops. “plant your feet. ‘m not doin all of the work.” you don’t disobey him even though you were silently hoping he’d continue to reel you into your orgasm.

you let out huffs as you plant yourself. his cock is just so thick, you can’t do anything but whine as you build up a pace. the feeling of your ass slamming against his pelvis, and your pussy tightening, practically begging for his cum causes him to let out low groans of his own. he keeps his hands on your hips though they prove to be useless as he does nothing to guide you.

“mmmnnn! d-daddy.” you tremble. his cock is filling you so deliciously, your eyes are practically filled with hearts. your pussy is leaking so much and getting everywhere, some of it somehow managed to get on his leather seats. choso ignores the sticky feeling that’s attached to the back of his thighs, that’s a problem he’ll deal with once he gets home.

“talk t’daddy. tell me how ‘m makin you feel.” he orders. his tongue darts out and circles around your brown nipple. he lightly nibbles on it, only using enough force to bring a moan out of you. your spine shudders as your eyes roll back. you can’t think, you can’t talk. all that’s repeating is cho, cho, cho. 

“can’t.” you mumble.

he pops your hardened nipple out of his mouth. “gonna make you stop. no ungrateful thing is gonna ride my cock.” he threatens which instantly causes you to let out whines and pleads. 

“‘m sorry, daddy. ‘m sorry.” you repeat you slow down so that you could focus on your words. his cock is nestled between your glistening pussy that’s just dripping like a faucet <3. “daddy’s makin me feel so so good. soo good.”

“mmmhm.” his fingers dart to your clit where he presses down on it. your body trembles in response. “keep goin, princess. you’re so close, hm? give me it. i can feel it. you’re jus’ grippin my cock, mmmhm, wet your daddy’s cock.”

you look down at him, the two of you make eye contact. your mouth opens and before you could say anything a loud moan spills from behind your pretty mouth. your pussy clenches around his thick cock, cream and thin strands of your arousal coates his twitching cock. your toes curl and your thighs shake as your brain fully goes out.

“cho! cho! oh! ‘m cummin, d-daddy! right there!.” you babble mindlessly. cho has to whisper in your ear the word “breathe” so that you could fill your lungs with air. he kisses and sucks on your neck, whispering praises.

“good job. you did so well. can you take daddy’s cum now, pretty? oh, i know you can, you’re daddy’s big girl of course you can.” he becomes mindless as he thrusts up into your wetness. a loud squelching sound comes from your pussy which is music to choso’s ears. whimpers and moans break through as his balls ache to be released into your warm walls. he doesn’t deny himself, either. he pounds up, strands of your pussy just smearing any and everywhere.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he repeats as his cum shoots out from his sensitive tip and into your willing pussy. you let out mumbled words, you’re too worn out to actually attempt to encourage him. your arousals mix, creating an even stickier mess.

choso lets out heavy huffs, trying to clear his head. he slowly slides his dick out of your puffy, sensitive pussy. you both watch as his cum does the same, seeping out of you like a leak. you shudder and reach under your body, letting your index finger run through your hole.

“shit, princess.” he breathes. he sits you onto the side and reaches up to grab the baby wipes that he keeps in his glove compartment. when he got with you and realized you had sexual urges almost constantly, he found himself keeping wipes on him at all times.

“‘m tired, cho.” you whimper when the texture comes into contact with you while you feel so sensitive.

“i know, baby. gonna get you home nd get you right. jus’ hold on.” he presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

[bipolarandbisexual]

Office Hours

Description: Professor Spencer Reid with Professor!reader. Fem reader, no use of y/n. Smut!! Sub Spencer

Spencer knows it's wrong, as he knocks on the office door. He only has to wait a few moments before the oak door opens with a slight creak. On the other side of the door stands his fellow pysch professor. Spencer gives her a heavy look up and down, not trying to hide where he lets his eyes linger. He takes a step forward, not needing words to tell her what he wants, what he needs. Her. It’s always her. After spending hours in his office fighting the urge to touch himself to thoughts of her, he decided he needed the real thing.

Spencer crowds her back against her desk, but he knows who’s in charge here, and it isn’t him. She smirks up at him, looking into his big brown eyes, as one of her hands goes to his belt, slowly, achingly slow, to unbuckle his belt, slipping it out of the loops and setting it behind her on her desk. Then, she slips her hand down Spencer’s pants, chuckling when Spencer curls forward to bury his face in her neck, already flushed and almost painfully hard. He’s leaking like a broken faucet already, and she can’t help but tease him about it. “Making a mess all over my hand already, doctor?” “Mhm, i’ll– I’ll clean it up,” Spencer mumbles against her throat, hands tightening in the material of her sweater as she starts to rub at the tip of his hard cock. She gives him a few teasing strokes, not expecting him to start whimpering and squirming like he’s close already. She didn’t realize how desperate her pretty boy is. She slows her hand down, to keep his brain fuzzy, but not enough to push him over the edge. “How badly do you want to cum, doctor?” All Spencer can do is whimper and thrust his hips against her hand. He wants to come so badly he can’t put the words together in his head to beg, instead he begs with whimpers and his sad puppy eyes. She can tell he would really like to cum, so she speeds up her strokes, rubbing her palm against his tip when her hand gets there. Spencer kisses at her throat, his hips jerking as he spills into his boxers, expecting her to stop after working him through his orgasm, but she doesn’t. She keeps jerking him off, slowly down, but still squeezing his cock tight. Spencer hardly softens, hardening right away. He’s oversensive and close to tears, but that’s what she wants. She wants to make him cry. “Oh, poor baby. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She coos at him, rubbing her palm harshly against his tip, her other hand patting his face before sliding into his hair, starting by giving his hair a gentle tug, then a harder one, grinning as his hips squirm and he whimpers against her neck. He starts to cry as his brain gets more fuzzy. He can hardly stay standing, needing her to hold him up. His hips jerk wildly before he spills again into his boxers. He’s crying tears of pleasure as he tugs at her hand, until he gets it out of his pants. “Clean up your mess, baby. You said you would.” Spencer’s brown eyes are wide and wet, as he slowly brings her cum-covered hand to his mouth, opening to put two of her fingers in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her fingers. He pulls her hand out to clean up the rest of his cum, not thinking about how he has to get back to his own office until she helps him put his belt back on and he notices the large, damp spot at the front of his pants. “... Can I stay here until my office hours are over? I can’t go back like this.”

[parkertfs]

CockCo’s New App

Ted had seen the ads for the new app going viral. It was advertised as a photo enhancement app, one that was supposed to be better than photoshop.

As soon as Ted opened the app, it prompted him to take a photo.

“What would you like to enhance?”

The app was almost comical in its simplicity.

“Snap a pic and we’ll do all the work!”

Ted laughed. This app was totally fake. He pointed the camera down at his lap where his shorts were hiding a measly 4 inches and grape sized nuts.

“Awesome! Now choose the enhancement percentage!” Ted was next prompted with a slider from 100% to 500%. He found it strange that there wasn’t any option for less than 100%, but he shrugged and laughed, jokingly opting for 500%.

“Awesome! Now choose payment method!” Ted wasn’t expecting this. The app was free and the app store didn’t say there would be in-app purchases.

The options were “Brains!”, “Height!”, “Muscle!”, “Hair!”, “Smell!”, “Endurance!”, and “Confidence!”. And in very small text at the bottom of the screen there was a sentence that read, “All enhancements are positive and permanent and are subject to CockCo’s terms of service.”

Ted was really confused now, so far nothing had changed about his photo, and if all of these ‘payments’ were positive then why was it payment?

Ted selected all of the payment methods, the check boxes lighting up with different colors as he went. He laughed again at the silliness of the app and pressed “continue”.

“Awesome! Now sit back, relax, and watch!”

The app then showed his original photo, his lap in full view. The app showed a little swirling ball next to the words, “Enhancing”.

Ted’s eyes widened as he saw the image of his pants begin to change. His zipper seemed to bulge out farther, along with the shorts digging further into his thighs and waist.

What Ted saw next made him drool. His cock, starting at 4 inches hard, began to snake along his waist. His grape sized nuts inflating too, pushing out against the fabric of his shorts. He watched as it slowly reached his hip, pushing through the pocket and inverting the fabric. As his balls continued to inflate he suddenly noticed he was in a lot of pain. He looked down and saw that his shorts — or rather his body — now matched what he saw in the photo… constricting around his balls, confining his enormous cock, and hugging his muscular ass and thighs.

Ted let a deep moan as his shorts tore in half, releasing his growing manhood. His new stench was now wafting up at him, his mind getting foggy from the smell… or was it from something else? He couldn’t tell, his brain was in his balls now, full of potent cum ready to blow.

God he looked so good. His orange sized balls filling up, his beer can thick footlong cock, his ass bouncing as he stood up, his new pecs jiggling too. Inches were adding to his height, making his body look more like a greek god’s than a burly lumberjack’s. His mind was filling with his new body’s hormones and thoughts. Thoughts of fucking, getting fucked, sucking and cumming.

He took a deep breath in, inhaling his now pungent stench, slowing his mind more and making him leak precum like a faucet.

He reached one of his enormous hands down and grabbed his dick, his other hand reaching between his juicy cheeks and rubbing his super sensitive hole.

It was too much. Within seconds he was cumming. And wow did he cum. He launched huge globs of creamy, smelly, jizz all over himself. But as the last of his cum slowly dripped out of his massive apple sized cock head, he felt his balls swell bigger, his body was already getting prepared for round two.

Ted loved the new app.

[narcissistshandler]

Not very specific buuut bottom!miguel o'hara and squirt? thank u, love your blog

𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab reader, bottom! miguel, anal sex, squirt

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 I won't be reviewing this here anytime soon.

With shaking hands he grab the base of your cock, firm legs keeping him aloft, semen dripping from him as Miguel aligned the head of your cock against his convulsing hole.

As him sink down, inch by inch, his body overstimulated from four orgasms trembles with the mix of pleasure and a tinge of pain. The familiar stretch and the delicious fullness, sends waves of ecstasy coursing through him, his dick only half-hard dripping with need in response.

You hold Miguel's hips firmly, letting him take his time until he is sitting on your hips in a new position. Miguel's entire body shivers at the sensation of having his ass filled all over again, a combination of pleasure and pressure that bother his arachnid senses. You asked him if he wanted a break, Miguel denied, too embarrassed to say that even though he could barely get hard again and his skin felt so sensitive it was itching, he still wanted more, much more.

He began to move, bouncing on your cock with a desperation he later liked to pretend never existed. His entire body trembling with the pressure and sensitivity, eyes flashing between red and brown as your cock stretched his sensitive hole and hit his prostate almost violently.

The bed rocked beneath you, creaking and hitting the wall, the sound almost muted under the animalistic growls Miguel didn't notice was making, mind too hot, whole body hot, so hot and stinging and wanting even more, deeper, stronger... And there's a strange feeling in his stomach that Miguel takes a long time to notice, a pressure and uncomfortable feeling that he blames on overstimulation and sensitivity on his overloaded senses.

Miguel can't stop or contain himself and with a purely animalistic growl as he rides your cock with need, he comes onto your stomach.

Your fingers dig into his waist and Miguel barely understands your 'you're making a mess' words laden with erotic amusement. This causes Miguel to blink, redirecting attention from the ceiling to you under him. His cock spilled screwily, like an open faucet, spurting clear, thin liquid onto your stomach and chest, which dripped down them and onto the sheets. A real mess.

Miguel's face burned, eyes glassy watching one of his hands shooting out to grip his cock, trying to stop the leak, as if none of the moves belonged to him. But the liquid continues to leak through his fingers against the sensitive head, now in small amounts that drip with a low, slow sound that sounds a hundred times louder in his ears.

"It's okay," you seem to say, licking your lips as you try to dislodge Miguel's hand. "You can let go."

Tomorrow Miguel would be so ashamed of this that he would throw the sheets away, pretend that nothing happened and shut you up if you made any attempt to bring the matter up. But today... Without thinking too much about it, with a whimper, Miguel complied and stopped trying to contain his half-hard cock squirt out what like pee or water and pressed the wet hand against your chest, going back to working his hips in sensual gyrations, enjoying each drop of pleasure and discomfort your cock brought him.

There was something primal about it, as Miguel knew that his scent would be impervious to your skin and even after you showered, his spider senses would still recognize you as his. His. His. His.

Miguel's thighs contracted so hard it hurt, the orgasm ripping through his overheated body like a knife slicing through the inside of his stomach. He stopped moving so suddenly his entire body shook in response, hole tightened around you, but Miguel still wanted more, he wanted you inside him until the pleasure left him numb and unable to reason with anything other than your dick.

[shotmrmiller]

I know I had already popped up earlier, but the last focus was about the PetAU, and it do be givin' me thoughts, though...

Just Mr Simon 'I'm never fuckin' jealous' 'Ghost' Riley finding a nice, pretty thing that he's been dating for a about, say.. a year and some months. He has Riley, sweet pup that he is, and he would have dropped you if Riley didn't like you. Thank the Gods that Riley found you acceptable, and you accepted the pooch back! Hurrah!

Yet.. a problem at the same time. Your attention was on the dog, telling the dog 'good boy', smooching the dogs face, giving the dog attention, attention, attention.. He wasn't fuckin' jealous.. So what is the reason why you come back home, having dropped Riley off at a few-day long doggy daycare at Simon's request, and find him on his knees, naked, wearing nothing but dog ears, a collar and- holy shit, was that a tail plug??

"Go on then, love. Tell me I'm a good boy."

this is so so tasty.

You've never mentioned it to Simon because you didn't want to scare him away with the fact that you liked to pet play, as both a pet and a handler.

But here he was, giving himself to you on a glistening silver platter, and there was no way you were going to pass this up.

He's your good boy, now— so you told him as such.

"You are just so precious." You crouched in front of his kneeled form and cupped his large face in your dainty hands. "Aren't you the most handsome pup ever? Hm?"

Simon's face flushes with the praise you shower him with— you can feel his skin warm under your touch— but you can't even control it now. The words spill from your mouth like water out of a faucet.

"Such a big, strong boy. You look like a wrestler, but I bet all the money in the world that you're a nuzzler. Just a soft, kind dog that wants love and attention, yeah?"

You're babbling at this point, but Simon is glowing under your admiration, and he looks so good on all fours. With a gentle, "Stay," you start to trail your fingers from his furry ears down— his spine arching under your touch and back muscles rippling under his skin— until you reach his thick tail.

"If this was real, I've no doubt it would be wagging, smacking me in the face. Isn't that right, handsome?"

Coiling the tip of his tail around two fingers, you give it a slight pull, and soothe him with a palm of your hand on his arsecheek when he hisses at the sensation.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart, I know. You look so good in this; I simply couldn't resist. Now sit for me, pup."

Simon sits back on his folded legs, hands resting in between his thick thighs, and you chuckle when you notice his erection at full mast, tip slick as it leaks precum.

"Want me to help you with that?"

He only stares at you, half-lidded eyes dark, swirling with lust.

"Speak."

Simon barks once.

"Good boy, handsome."

He can't stop the whine that slithers out from behind his clenched teeth when you wrap your hand around his fat, heavy cock and give him a squeeze.

Shushing him, you give him a few painfully slow pumps— skin bunching up on the upstroke— and press your thumb lightly on his slit.

"Your knees may be padded, but mine aren't," you hinted.

Getting up with a slight groan, a rub to your achy knees, and with one scrape of your nails on his head, you command him.

"Heel."

As you make your way towards the bedroom, the sound of his collar tinkling with each movement he makes sends a jolt to your throbbing core— arousal already dampening your knickers.

Simon barking is sending me into a tizzy i don't think you understand

[nuemanfilms]

— Soulless!sam picks up a hooker who gets more than she bargained for (pt2.)

He saw you at the bar. Looking around like a lost puppy, yet the short skirt you wore was giving him a sense that you weren’t just there for a drink.

So, he walked over to you, and leaded you out to his rental car, driving to his motel room. When he unlocked it, you were pushed on the bed.

Your skirt rid up your ass, showing him your pretty pink thong, the words ‘Princess’ written on the back.

Sam gave a smack to your ass, sliding your thong down as you mewled for his cock.

“Such a pretty little pussy, baby..” He groaned at the sight of your arousal. You were fucking soaked. His cock twitched, but he ignored it.

“Please fuck me, Sir! Please..” You begged, and Sam let out a dark chuckle, “I’m gonna fuck you, Baby. But first, I’m gonna eat this pretty little cunt of yours.”

That’s when he noticed it. The shiny, pink shaped diamond that was stuffed in your other hole. You had that inside you this whole time? Oh he was gonna have a lot of fun.

“Look at that,” He coos, “You stretchin’ y’self out for me like a little slut? You want my big cock in your tight little ass?” You nodded, Sam grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Later, Baby.” He gave a devilish smile, before attacking your pussy with his tongue. You cried, his rough fingertips prying your thighs apart. Your ass was in the air, and Sam was devouring your pussy like a starved man.

Your juices leaked like a faucet onto his tongue, and he groaned in delight at your taste. He didn’t even pull out for air, his nose brushing against your clit had you crying actual tears.

“pleas- auh! God, I can’t— I can’t do it.. sir, please..!” you cried and sobbed out his title. And the only time Sam pulled away was to shush you.

“Sshh.. you can take it, take it for me, hm? Be a good girl and take it..” He knew your orgasm was approaching rapidly, and he wanted this, he wanted you to scream for him.

Then he added his fingers to the mix, scissoring them inside of your tight channel. You moaned repeatedly before letting out a scream.

“‘m gonna cum- please let me cum..” You whimpered. Sam pulled away, snatching your orgasm from you in a second.

You sighed, your breaths were finally slowing down. And just as you thought you guys were done.. he pulled out his cock.

[gourdyshome]

sub art on the brain ... puppy art on the brain ... so sweet and soft for you, just wants to please. nuzzles up to your side after a long day, resting his head on your thigh. you look down and smile.

hi, baby.

hi.

long day?

he nods silently. oh, so it's like that tonight. you smile down at him, run a hand through his soft, blonde locks. you worked so hard today, honey. how about i take care of you a little, yeah? there's no verbal response, but art picks his head up, eyes wide and glassy already. aw, sweet boy. you just need some love tonight.

you kiss him soft and slow, all messy-like. his lips are shiny with spit when you pull away, and he whines in protest. shhh, baby. gonna make you feel good, okay? art nods, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. fuck, you're going to ruin him.

c'mere, you murmur. art obliges, sitting between your legs, his broad shoulders pressed against your chest. even though he's bigger than you, he feels small in this position. it's one of his favorites. he loves the feeling of being held, being completely surrounded by you. slowly, you dip your hand down under his boxers, cupping his half-hard cock. he lifts his hips so you can slide his underwear down, just under his balls, and you finally get a good look at him. smooth, pink, pretty and flushed. he's already leaking, and he hides his face in his hands bashfully.

none of that, you say softly, batting away his hands. don't hide from me, sweet boy. it doesn't take long for art to get close. he's leaking like a faucet tonight, whimpering and softly whining, hitching his hips up into your hand. normally you'd scold him, but tonight you let him take what he needs. you can tell it's been a long day.

he finally comes when you nip at his jawline, twisting your wrist just so. spilling over your hand, sticky and warm. immediately, his lips part, and he takes your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. good boy, you say, the words nearly punched out of you. when he's done cleaning your fingers off, his eyes flutter closed. that's it, honey. you did so good for me, so sweet and pretty. art falls asleep like that, suckling on your fingers, sweaty and sated.