#so more people will see it 💦 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cbeargyu · 3 months ago

Text

I hate and need him so much !!

summary: you and beomgyu are the top students in your university’s music program—but that’s the only thing you have in common. constantly clashing over leadership and vision, your rivalry is infamous across campus. but when a heated late-night argument over your final project spirals out of control, you both cross a line neither of you can walk back from. tension turns to obsession, and hate becomes the hottest kind of desire...

pairing: enemy!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: enemies with benefits, smut, angst, college au, slow burn, toxic dynamics, musical rivalry.

warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, toxic dynamics, public tension, dominance & submission themes, rough sex, mentions of physical aggression (non-violent), mutual degradation, possessiveness, slight exhibitionism, slight humiliation, dirty talk, praise kin, overstimulation, begging.[18+ ONLY MDI]

wc: 5,94k

notes: my tiktok is flooded with beomgyu videos + beomgyu in those photos... I'm thinking... 🫦💦

you’ve never met someone as fucking insufferable as choi beomgyu.

you’re top of your class in music theory and composition. sharp mind, sharper tongue, perfectionist to the bone. and unfortunately, so is he. same major, same year, same goddamn classes—and ever since first year, you’ve been stuck in this sick, twisted competition that neither of you ever agreed to, but neither of you can let go of either.

he’s loud. smug. sarcastic. every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he’s begging you to punch him. he thinks he’s the most brilliant mind to grace the university halls and you? you’re just a stubborn little brat who got lucky with a few good scores.

you, on the other hand, think he’s a cocky little shit with too much talent and zero humility. a show-off. a provocateur. someone who gets under your skin just for the thrill of it.

and worse, he knows it.

“i don’t know how the fuck you got the leader position,” he says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the piano like he owns the place. “but if you keep running this project like this, we’re all going to look like idiots.”

you’re standing near the whiteboard, marker still in your hand from the rehearsal plan you were setting up. you were already exhausted—it’s late, your head’s pounding, and everyone else already left the music room because they knew this was coming.

you and beomgyu. again.

“then don’t be part of it,” you snap, glaring at him over your shoulder. “no one’s forcing you to stay.”

“you’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, pushing himself off the piano and walking closer. “you act like you know everything. like your way is the only way. but guess what? newsflash—this isn’t high school anymore, princess. not everyone’s going to kiss your ass.”

“fuck you,” you hiss, dropping the marker and turning to face him fully now.

“oh, that’s rich.” he laughs—short, bitter, mocking. “you can’t handle being challenged, huh? the second someone calls you out, you throw a fit.”

“you’re not ‘challenging’ me, you’re being a fucking asshole,” you step closer too now, chests nearly touching. “you think just because you play guitar and write edgy lyrics, you’re some kind of genius?”

his jaw clenches. “i am a fucking genius. unlike you, i don’t treat people like shit to feel superior.”

“no, you just think you’re better than everyone and talk like you’re god’s gift to music.”

“keep pushing me, sweetheart,” he growls, eyes narrowing. “see what happens.”

and maybe it’s the hour. or the pent-up rage. or how his breath is hot against your lips now, because neither of you moved away.

maybe it’s the way your heart’s been racing around him since the first semester, and you’ve been too fucking proud to admit it.

but when he grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him, and your mouths crash together in something that’s not a kiss, not yet—more like a war—you don’t stop it.

you kiss him like you’re trying to shut him up. he kisses you like he’s trying to make you forget your name.

it’s teeth. it’s tongue. it’s bruises forming before either of you even start taking clothes off. his hands are gripping your waist like he’s waited years for this, and your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling hard, like you want to hurt him and fuck him at the same time.

you gasp when his lips leave yours, only to trail down your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. your back hits the wall behind you with a dull thud, and you’re too far gone to care if anyone hears.

“still think you’re in control?” he mutters against your skin, voice low, mocking, laced with heat.

“fuck you,” you spit, breathless.

he grins. that goddamn grin.

“yeah?” he grabs your chin, tilting your face so you have to look at him. “then why are you fucking shaking for me, bitch?”

you slap him.

not hard enough to hurt. just enough to sting.

his smirk drops for a second—and then he laughs, low and wild, before grabbing your wrists and slamming them above your head.

“god, you’re such a brat,” he growls. “always running your mouth, always trying to act like you’re better than me. but here you are, letting me pin you like a fucking slut.”

“go to hell,” you snap, squirming against him.

he leans in, presses his mouth to your ear. “after i’m done with you.”

he kisses you again—hard, possessive, angry. his hand slides under your shirt, up your ribs, dragging slow just to hear you breathe harder.

“take this shit off,” he says against your lips, tugging at your shirt, and you don’t hesitate.

the air is cold, but his hands are hotter than sin. they roam, greedy, rough, like he wants to memorize every inch of you just so he can ruin it.

“beomgyu—” his name escapes your mouth in a shaky moan when he sucks a bruise right beneath your collarbone.

“what, bitch?” he mutters, pulling your bra down like it’s in his way. “you like that? you like when i touch you like this?”

you don’t answer. your pride won’t let you.

so he smirks, teeth flashing. “still pretending you hate me?”

you glare. “i do.”

he chuckles darkly. “then hate me with your legs around my waist.”

and you do. you hook your legs around him as he lifts you off the floor, grinding into you, cock already hard through his jeans and pressed right against where you need him most.

“fuck,” you whisper, head falling back.

“yeah,” he breathes, mouth trailing down to your chest. “that’s what i thought.”

his fingers find the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a sort of impatient frustration that makes your whole body ache. he kisses down your stomach as he does it, slow only to torment you.

“been dreaming about this,” he mutters. “ruining that smart little mouth of yours. showing you who really runs this fucking class.”

“keep talking,” you pant, “and i’ll bite your tongue off.”

he laughs again—low, dangerous.

“you’re such a bitch,” he says. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you anyway.”

and you do.

you don’t know how you ended up half-naked on the piano bench, legs spread, his mouth buried between your thighs like he’s starving.

maybe it was the way you clawed at his shirt like you wanted to rip his skin off. maybe it was how he shoved you down with a growl, like he couldn’t stand another second without tasting you.

either way, you’re too far gone to give a fuck.

“fuck—beomgyu—” you choke out, fingers tangling in his messy hair.

he groans into your cunt, licking you slow just to hear you whimper, then fast just to fuck with you. his hands are bruising your thighs, holding you still like he’s scared you’ll run.

“you’re loud now,” he says, voice muffled against your skin, “but in class you act so fucking high and mighty.”

“shut up—” your voice cracks when he flicks his tongue over your clit, again, again, again.

“no,” he growls, looking up at you with spit and you all over his mouth. “you don’t get to shut me up. not when you’re moaning like a little toy.”

you reach down, grabbing his jaw, pulling him up to kiss him hard—tasting yourself on his tongue, nails dragging down his back.

“you’re fucking disgusting,” you whisper against his lips.

he bites your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp. “and you love it.”

you do.

you hate him. but you want him so bad it’s making your head spin.

when he finally unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, thick and flushed and leaking, your mouth goes dry.

“don’t stare like you’re impressed,” he teases, pumping himself once. “you act like you’re not dying for this.”

you glare, then smirk. “i’ve had better.”

“is that so?”

he grabs your hips, pulls you to the edge of the bench, and slams into you without warning.

your whole body arches.

“fuck—!” you cry out, nails digging into his arms.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. doesn’t slow down. he fucks you like he’s punishing you for every word you’ve ever thrown at him, every smug look you’ve ever given.

“better than this?” he grits out, snapping his hips harder. “you’re dripping, you fucking liar.”

“shut up—”

“nah. say it. say who’s fucking you this good.”

“go to hell,” you growl, grabbing the back of his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

he kisses you like he wants to bruise your soul. you kiss him like you want to rip his heart out.

“fuck, you feel good,” he groans against your mouth. “tight little cunt acting like she doesn’t need me.”

you moan. you hate that he’s right. that your body’s betraying you, clenching around him, begging for more.

“fucking bastard,” you hiss, throwing your head back when he hits that spot deep inside you.

“say it again,” he pants, pounding into you. “call me every name you want, i know you’re close.”

“pathetic, arrogant, loud-mouthed little shit—” you gasp, legs shaking.

“that’s right,” he growls. “cum for me, fucking hate me while you do it.”

you do.

you fall apart under him, clenching around him so tight he swears and grabs your waist like he’s losing control.

and a second later, he’s cumming too—deep inside you, jaw clenched, eyes shut, letting out a low, broken groan of your name like it physically hurts.

the room’s silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing.

he collapses against you, forehead resting on your shoulder.

you push him off.

“we’re not doing this again,” you mutter, standing up and adjusting your clothes.

he smirks, still breathless, watching you like he already knows better.

“we’ll see, sweetheart.”

he’s been staring at you like he wants to kill you since class started.

arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping like a fucking metronome of rage.

you ignore him. or try to.

but when professor kim announces your proposal will lead the ensemble showcase, and not his—oh, the way his eyes meet yours. burning. hateful. hungry.

you smirk, just to piss him off.

after class, you don’t even make it out the door.

“come with me,” he snaps, grabbing your wrist, dragging you through the empty hallway before you can protest.

“fuck off, beomgyu—”

he pushes open an empty rehearsal room and shoves you inside.

you spin on him. “what the fuck is your problem?!”

“you are,” he growls, slamming the door shut. “fucking show-off. always need to win, huh?”

you scoff. “maybe if your idea hadn’t been shit—”

he grabs your face and kisses you so hard your back hits the wall, again.

and you let him.

because you’re both too far gone now.

you kiss him back, biting his lip, tugging his hair like you’re trying to hurt him—like you want him to hurt you back.

his hands are everywhere. under your shirt, gripping your waist, yanking down your pants without a word.

“so fucking full of yourself,” he mutters, yanking your underwear down roughly. “bet you soaked your panties the second you saw me lose.”

you slap him again.

he just grins. “hit me harder if you want, baby. i know you like it rough.”

you grab his belt, undoing it fast. “shut up and fuck me.”

“say please.”

“fuck you.”

he shoves you against the wall, lifts your leg, and thrusts in—raw, fast, brutal.

you cry out, hands slamming against the wall for support.

“god—fuck—beomgyu—”

“that’s right,” he pants, pounding into you like he wants to erase your fucking mind. “say my name. say it like you mean it.”

your moans echo through the empty room. it’s reckless. loud. stupid.

anyone could walk in.

and maybe that’s why it feels so good.

“you look so pretty when you lose control,” he growls, biting your neck. “not so smug now, huh?”

you clench around him, mouth open in a silent moan.

he hisses. “you’re close.”

“no—shut up—i’m not—”

“liar,” he snarls, fucking you deeper. “you’re so wet i can feel you shaking.”

“piece of shit—”

“say it again.”

“fuck you—”

“you are.”

he grabs your face again, kisses you hard, and you break—cumming around him with a cry you can’t hold back.

he follows seconds later, groaning against your mouth, cock twitching inside you as he spills himself deep.

you both freeze.

silence.

then—footsteps outside the door.

your eyes widen.

he smirks.

“we should do this more often.”

he’s pacing in the classroom like a storm trapped in four walls. jacket thrown on the floor, hair a mess, frustration radiating off of him.

“i just don’t get how you always win,” he spits, glaring at the floor.

you raise an eyebrow, calm, bored. “because i’m better.”

he whips around. “fuck you.”

you smile. “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

his breath catches. just for a second. and you see it.

that crack in his anger. the want under all that pride.

you stand, walking slowly to him.

“what’s wrong, gyu?” you murmur, dragging a finger up his chest. “you mad because you lost again? or because you can't stop thinking about how good i made you feel last time?”

his jaw tightens. his eyes drop to your lips.

“i hate you,” he says, but his voice is already shaking.

you hum. “lie better.”

and then your hand slips between his legs, cupping him over his jeans—slow. gentle. cruel.

he gasps. you feel how hard he is already.

“fuck—don’t—” he tries to step back.

you press your body into his, pinning him to the wall.

“don’t what?” you whisper against his ear. “don’t touch you? don’t make you beg?”

he whimpers.

actual whimpers.

“please…”

you grin.

“look at you,” you whisper. “so hard just from me teasing you. you want me that bad?”

he nods, red-faced, biting his lip.

“use your words, baby.”

“please,” he whispers, breathless, “please touch me. i need it. i need you.”

you pull back slightly, watching him.

he drops to his knees.

and that’s when your power hits him full force.

beomgyu, the cocky bastard, the arrogant top of your class, on the floor, looking up at you like you’re his fucking god.

“say it again.”

“please…” he swallows hard, pupils blown wide. “i need you to touch me. to use me. i’ll do anything. just—just don’t stop.”

you sit down on the chair, legs spread.

“come here.”

he crawls between your legs without hesitation.

you grab his jaw. “good boy.”

his breath stutters.

“can i… can i taste you?” he asks, voice so low and wrecked you barely hear it.

you smirk. “you can try.”

after he buried his face between your thighs, you had to muffle your moans with your hand, desperate not to cry out. but it was pointless—the university was already empty, and anyone left wouldn’t dare come near that classroom with the way the air practically sizzled around you.

you should’ve left right then, should’ve played it safe. but the heat between you was too much, too consuming. so instead, you stumbled out together, breathless and shaking, and made it back to your apartment—ready to finish what you never should’ve started in public.

“you’re so pretty when you cry,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest.

he’s panting, cheeks flushed, wrists tied to the bedpost with your silk scarf. thighs trembling. body covered in marks from your mouth.

his cock is red, leaking, twitching.

“please,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “i-i can’t—please let me come—”

you tilt your head. “already?”

you’ve edged him three times now. never letting him finish. always pulling away just when his moans start turning desperate.

“you really are weak, aren’t you?” you coo, wrapping your fingers around him again, slowly, cruelly.

his head falls back with a loud whimper. “fuck—yes, i am, i am—just for you—”

“look at you,” you murmur, stroking him torturously slow. “the same guy who told me he hated me. now you’re begging like a good little slut.”

his whole body jolts.

you lean closer, lips brushing his ear. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

he nods frantically, eyes glossy. “yes—yes, please—more—”

you tighten your grip, pace quickening.

“you like being mine?”

“yes—yes, i’m yours—only yours—please don’t stop—”

“you’re not gonna come yet,” you whisper. “not until i say so.”

he sobs, hips jerking, trying to chase the friction. “please—please, i’ll do anything—i’ll be so good—just let me—”

you straddle him.

his eyes widen.

you don’t even have to say anything—he’s already moaning.

“you wanna come inside me, baby?” you whisper, dragging your folds over his aching tip, not letting him in.

he’s shaking. “please, please, i need to, i need to—i’ll be good—fuck—i’ll make you feel so good, i swear—just let me—let me—”

you slide down onto him all at once.

his scream is broken. his whole body arches.

“thank you—fuck, thank you—” he babbles, clutching the headboard with white knuckles.

“you’re so deep,” you moan, starting to ride him, slow and heavy. “you feel so good when you shut up and take it.”

he’s sobbing now. overwhelmed. blissed out.

“gonna fill me up?” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “gonna come like the good little boy you are?”

he nods, barely able to speak. “yes—yes, please—please—can i—please—”

“do it,” you growl in his ear.

he breaks.

he cries out your name, cumming so hard it makes his entire body shake, eyes rolling back as he trembles under you. it doesn’t stop—he keeps twitching, breathless, whimpering, completely ruined.

you don’t stop moving.

his eyes widen in panic.

“w-wait—too much—i can’t—”

you just smirk.

“you said you’d do anything, baby. don’t disappoint me now.”

you barely step inside the third-floor bathroom before you feel it.

the shift.

he’s already there, waiting — back against the wall, eyes on you like he’s been planning something. calculating. hungry.

but this time… he doesn’t look shy.

he doesn’t look desperate.

he looks like a fucking storm.

you close the door slowly, a smirk playing on your lips. “someone’s eager.”

he doesn’t answer.

he just pushes himself off the wall, takes three steps forward, and corners you against the door. his body flush against yours.

his voice is low, dark.

“you think you’re in control, don’t you?”

you blink, caught off guard.

“you think you can tease me in front of everyone, make me sit pretty and beg for you like a fucking toy,” he growls, gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “but you forget something, babe.”

his breath is hot against your ear.

“you want this just as bad as i do. and you’re not as untouchable as you act.”

you scoff, but it dies in your throat when he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your waist and under your skirt like he owns every inch of you.

“gonna prove it,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, then biting down harder than he should. “gonna fuck the brat out of you.”

“you’re dreaming if you think—”

“shut up,” he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs, forcing them open. “you had your turn. now it’s mine.”

your breath catches when he drops to his knees, yanks your underwear down and presses his mouth right where you need him. no warning. no build-up. just pure, messy heat.

you whimper, trying to squirm, but his grip on your thighs is brutal. “stay fucking still.”

he eats you like he’s starving.

like this is punishment.

like he wants to ruin you.

and he does — slowly. with groans that vibrate against your core. with tongue strokes that make your knees buckle. with lips that suck until you're gasping, trembling, begging—

“beomgyu, i’m gonna—”

he stops.

just like that.

you cry out in frustration, but he stands and shoves two fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“you don’t get to cum yet,” he smirks. “not until you say it.”

you glare at him, trying to keep whatever pride you have left. he leans in, lips brushing yours.

“say you need me.”

you don’t.

you won’t—

he grabs your hips and slams into you so hard you choke on your breath.

you almost scream, biting your hand to stay quiet as he fucks into you like he’s trying to destroy you. like he wants you sore. shaking. marked.

“say it,” he demands again, slamming deeper. “say you fucking need me.”

“fuck—i need you,” you gasp, losing it. “i fucking need you, okay?”

he smiles, dark and satisfied.

“good girl.”

and he keeps going.

you swear you black out a little when you finally cum, legs wrapped around him, walls clenching so tight he nearly loses control. but he doesn’t. he keeps going, overstimulating you until you're crying into his shoulder.

when he’s done, he pulls out, breathing hard, eyes glazed.

you’re a mess — flushed, dripping, lips bruised, hair wild.

he zips up, fixes his shirt, then grabs your jaw again.

“next time you wanna play boss,” he whispers, “remember who actually makes you fall apart.”

and then he’s gone — just like that.

leaving you shaking against the door, breathless, ruined.

it’s late. everyone’s gone, except for you and beomgyu. you both stay back to finish up the final arrangements for the project. the studio is dim, the only light coming from the desk lamps and the soft glow of the instruments scattered around the room. a low hum of the sound system mixes with the quiet shuffle of papers as you go over the details. you’re too focused, too determined to let anything distract you. not even him.

but he’s watching you.

you feel it before you see him. his eyes on you, the way his gaze lingers too long, too intense. he’s not the quiet, obedient beomgyu you’re used to. no, tonight, there’s a shift in the air, something darker, something that makes your heartbeat quicken.

you look up at him. he’s standing near the piano, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his usual casual look replaced by a more dangerous edge. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed in that way that makes your pulse race. his voice is rough when he finally speaks, cutting through the silence.

“you’ve been ignoring me all night,” he says, the words low and biting. “like i don’t fucking matter.”

you raise an eyebrow, setting your pen down slowly. “i’m busy,” you say, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something else in it. something that shows you know exactly where this is headed.

“busy?” his lips curl into a sneer as he pushes off the piano, taking a slow step toward you. “you were too busy when i was begging for your attention. and now… now you’re too busy to notice how badly i want you.”

the words hit you like a shockwave, and your breath catches. but you stand your ground. “and what do you want from me, beomgyu? you really think you can just—”

“shut up,” he growls, closing the distance between you in an instant. his hands grip your hips, pushing you back against the desk. the suddenness of it has you gasping, your breath hitching in your throat. “i’ve had enough of you acting like you’re in control. you’re not. not tonight.”

his hands slide up your waist, pinning you against the desk, and the heat between you is undeniable. you try to fight it, but you know—you know—you’re not going anywhere. he’s stronger. he’s in charge now.

he lifts you effortlessly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spins you around, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his body against yours. “this project’s been a fucking joke, but i’m about to show you who’s really leading this.”

you shiver at the feel of his hot breath on your skin. you try to push back, but he’s already got you where he wants you. his hands roam over you like he’s starved, hungry for every inch of your body.

before you can react, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is aggressive, desperate. his tongue pushes into your mouth with no warning, like he’s claiming you, taking you without hesitation. you moan into it, your own hands finding purchase on his shirt, tugging him closer.

he breaks the kiss with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin as his hands begin to strip you down. he’s rough, unrelenting, as if he’s been holding back for too long. and now, now he wants to punish you for making him wait.

“tell me,” he whispers, his fingers tugging at your shirt. “tell me you want me. say it, and i’ll give it to you. all of it.”

you swallow, trying to keep your composure. you’re not going to give him the satisfaction that easily. but beomgyu’s hands are everywhere—on your chest, your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. you can’t deny it. you want him. god, you want him so badly. but you won’t admit it that easily.

“fuck you,” you spit out, pushing at his chest, though your body betrays you, grinding against him involuntarily.

beomgyu smirks, completely unphased. his eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear again. “you will, bitch. you’re going to beg for it.”

suddenly, he spins you back around, shoving you against the desk once more. he’s fast, too fast for you to react, and before you can even think, he’s pulling your skirt up, exposing you. his fingers are already there, teasing, stroking over your sensitive skin with slow precision.

“tell me you want it,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. “say it.”

you close your eyes, breathing hard, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as you feel him push against you. his movements are slow, torturous, his teasing driving you crazy.

“please…” you mutter, barely audible, but he hears it. that’s all he needs.

“good girl,” he says, his voice dark with satisfaction. “you don’t get to hold back anymore. not when i’m in control.”

then, he’s inside you. deep. hard. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you time to breathe. the desk rattles under the force of his thrusts, your body rocking with each movement. his hands grip your hips, slamming into you with ruthless precision, fucking you like he owns you.

you cry out, your fingers digging into the desk, but he doesn’t care. he just keeps going, taking what he wants. you’re powerless against him, lost in the rhythm of his hips, the relentless pace he’s setting.

“tell me you need me,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he fucks you harder. “say it. now.”

“fuck,” you gasp, unable to stop the words that spill from your lips. “i need you, beomgyu. i fucking need you.”

his grin is wicked, satisfied. “good. now you’re mine.”

and he pushes you to the edge, pushing harder, faster, until you come undone. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your fingers gripping the desk so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks. and even when you think you can’t take anymore, he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, fucking you through it, until you’re begging for mercy.

your legs are shaking, but he doesn’t stop.

beomgyu grabs your arm, spinning you around again, his lips dragging down your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “did you think i was done with you?” he mutters, voice dripping with dark amusement. “we’re just getting started, baby.”

he lifts you like you weigh nothing and carries you to the worn leather couch in the corner of the studio. he drops you onto it and spreads your legs without hesitation. you don’t even have time to catch your breath before he drops to his knees and buries his face between your thighs.

“oh fuck—beomgyu—” your voice cracks as his tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your core.

his hands grip your thighs tightly, pinning you open as he devours you like he’s starving. he sucks, licks, flicks his tongue in maddening circles, then flattens it against your clit until your hips buck off the couch.

“taste so fucking good,” he growls, voice muffled against your wetness. “you gonna cum on my mouth, baby?”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “shit, yes—fuck—don’t stop—”

but he does stop. the bastard smirks up at you, lips wet, eyes burning. “nah. not yet. i want you ruined when i’m done.”

before you can curse him out, he’s pulling you up, flipping you over. your knees sink into the couch as he grabs your waist, angling your ass up. you barely manage to breathe before he’s slamming back into you from behind.

“fuck!” you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls. the angle is brutal, perfect. you’re melting, unraveling around him, every thrust punching the air out of your lungs.

“you hear that?” he pants, fucking you hard and fast. “that’s the sound of your pussy getting absolutely wrecked.”

you can barely answer, but your body responds—arching into him, pushing back, greedy for more. he grabs your hair, yanking your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

“you love this, don’t you? getting fucked like a little slut. look at you—can’t even talk, just taking my cock like you were made for it.”

you moan, dizzy from the filth spilling out of his mouth and the relentless way he’s driving into you.

then he flips you again, pulling you on top of him as he falls back onto the couch. “ride me,” he commands, hands gripping your ass. “show me how much you fucking want it.”

you don’t hesitate. you sink down onto him, both of you groaning at the contact. your hands grip his shoulders as you start to move—slow at first, then faster, grinding down as he thrusts up to meet you. the friction, the heat—it’s too much. you're bouncing on him like your life depends on it, tits bouncing, eyes locked on his as you both fall apart.

“fucking ride me, just like that. shit—look at you,” he groans, his head falling back, his fingers bruising your hips. “so fucking tight, fuck—gonna cum if you keep that up.”

you’re right there with him. you’re shaking, sweating, losing control. your climax builds like a tidal wave, and he knows. He feels it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”

“fuck yes—yes—beomgyu—!” you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through you.

he follows right after, grabbing your hips, slamming you down onto him one last time as he spills inside you with a raw, guttural moan. you collapse on top of him, both of you panting, sweaty, ruined.

the studio is silent again, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the lazy hum of the soundboard. you’re both still half-naked on the couch, skin slick with sweat, catching your breath. beomgyu’s chest rises and falls beneath you, his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bare back.

“you look fucked out,” he murmurs, smirking against your temple.

you hum, eyes closed. “that’s because you fucked me out.”

there’s a beat of silence. and then he chuckles—low, dark, dangerous. “not yet...”

before you can respond, he’s flipping you over again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his body hovering over yours.

“beomgyu, what the fuck—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss so filthy, so consuming, it leaves you gasping.

his voice is gravel when he pulls back. “you think i’m done with you? you really think that was enough?” his knee parts your thighs again, sliding between them, pressing right where you're still throbbing. “you’re dripping for me, baby. don’t even try to lie.”

you arch into him involuntarily, and he grins like he owns you. “god, you’re fucking desperate. like a little cum-drunk slut.”

he lets go of your wrists and slides down your body, dragging his tongue along your stomach, your hipbone, your inner thigh—until he's right where you need him again. he spreads you open and stares, admiring the mess he made of you.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls. “so wrecked. so perfect.”

then his mouth is on you again. this time, it’s not teasing. it’s relentless. his tongue fucks into you, circles your clit, sucks until you're writhing, crying out, begging.

“please—please, fuck—”

but he doesn’t stop there.

he stands, wiping his mouth, then grabs you by the waist and drags you to the edge of the couch. “on your knees,” he orders, voice rough. “hands on the floor. ass up.”

you obey without thinking—your body knows what it wants now. you feel his hand grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then the thick head of his cock pressing back inside you.

he grabs your jaw suddenly, fingers sliding between your lips, forcing them open. “open up,” he growls, his voice low and demanding. you moan around his fingers as he shoves them deep into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue. “suck,” he commands, and you do—eyes fluttering shut, lips wrapped around his fingers like it’s instinct.

“that’s it, baby. just like that,” he murmurs, pulling them out slick and glistening, only to trail them down your body—between your thighs—before lining himself up again. “now i’m gonna fuck you nice and deep, just how you like it. don’t fucking run.”

he bottoms out in one thrust.

you scream.

“yeah, that’s right,” he pants, thrusting deep and hard. “let them fucking hear you. let everyone know how good I fuck this tight little pussy.”

the position hits everything. his hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling your body up as he fucks you like an animal. it’s filthy, raw, and fucking perfect.

“say it,” he demands. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “i’m fucking yours, beomgyu.”

he growls, slamming into you harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the studio. “damn right you are.”

and then he flips you over one more time—flat on your back this time, legs over his shoulders as he pounds into you, eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch every second of you coming apart again.

“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby,” he says between ragged breaths. “you’re gonna soak my cock, and then i’m gonna fill you up again. you want that?”

“fuck, yes—please—do it—”

that’s all it takes. your orgasm hits like a damn freight train, your whole body seizing up as he keeps thrusting, watching you shatter beneath him.

and when you cum, crying his name, he loses it.

he buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside you again, hips twitching, body shaking. and then he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air, completely, utterly wrecked.

you lie there in silence, your body trembling from overstimulation, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.

“you’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

after a long moment, he strokes your back lazily and mutters, “next time you ignore me, i’ll fuck you right on top of the damn mixing board.”

you laugh breathlessly, still trembling. “i dare you.”

“oh, you will, sweetheart,” he smirks, voice low and dangerous. “you fucking will.”

“we’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

868 notes · View notes

slut4hee · 4 months ago

Note

enhypen when they first slide it in...!

Ohhhh you’re so insane for this anonieee!😩😩

Enha/Hyungline When They First Slide In The 🐱:

Heeseung:

I honestly I feel like Heeseung silently screams😩 when he finally slides inside your tight wet cunt💦, he’s rendered speechless from how good your tight warmth feels around him🤭. He also wouldn’t even try to hide his facial expressions when he’s feeling good, eyebrows frowning as he stares deep inside your eyes, fucking you into the mattress.

Jay:

I feel like Jay is definitely a groaner😌, letting out strangled groans when he finally slides inside your kitty🐱, after a long exhausting day from work. A lot of people see him as a hard dom, but in my opinion he’s definitely a soft dom🥺, showers you with praise on how good you’re taking his big cock. He also loves to put his face in your neck, softly biting down on your shoulder as he fucks into you wildly.

Jake:

Now we all know Jake is very vocal right?! 👀I can see him whimpering like a puppy 🐶when he slides inside that pussy, he hasn’t even bottomed out yet but he’s already panting and pouting about how good you feel wrapped tightly around him. He also moans like loud, like so loud you will have to cover his mouth for him, as he fucks you like a bunny in heat🐇.

Sunghoon:

Papi hoon! So honestly I don’t think Sunghoon is very vocal, I could see him soft grunt when he first slides inside, I can see him making more facial expressions then verbal expressions, like biting his bottom lip harshly, or kind of like Heeseung, staring deep into your eyes as he fucks your pussy real real good🫦

Lord Jesus I’m wet asf now🫣💦

#smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #fanfic #enhypen x reader #enhypen x black reader #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #slut4heemasterlist #slut4heeworks #slut4heeupdates #slut4hee #feeling slutty #i want him inside me

653 notes · View notes

whoopsyeahokay · 5 months ago

Text

Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW)

Wally Clark x fem!reader

___________________________💦

Wally is exactly the type of romantic who sweeps you off your feet. He's goofy, charming, affectionate. Always finding ways to touch you when you and he are with your friends. Holds you close and keeps you in his arms, on his lap, against his body on the couch that you and he usurp for yourselves at Movie Night. He's all about forehead kisses and laced fingers and cradling your cheek as he tells you how much he loves you. Brushes your hair out of your eyes and smiles at you like you're the only person in the world he can see.

Wally is exactly the type who soaks up compliments like a sponge, has both an ego and an insecurity that needs attention. He revels in your praise and devotion. He's attentive and loyal, there when you need him at the drop of a hat. Pulling up in his Mustang, ready to dote on his passenger princess, hand on your thigh as he drives one-handed, fingers digging into your flesh while he watches the road. He's into sweet gestures and reassurances. Respect. Thoughtful gifts just because and more thoughtful actions when you're not feeling well.

But Wally is also the type to whisper dark promises in your ear when you and he are surrounded by people in the hall, pressing against your back as you rummage through your locker, his hand roaming under your shirt to smooth up your stomach, fingertips teasing the edge of your bra. He wields his self-control like a weapon off the field as much as on it, grinding his hard cock into your palm through his jeans, his hand tight around your wrist—"Do you like what you do to me, baby?"—after he drags you into an empty classroom because he spent lunch watching Jackass Jake Tremblay flirt with you for your vote. "You like how hard I get just for you?"

Wally is also the type to get possessive, hard bites on your neck, sucking a necklace of bruises into your collar that you can't hide under your shirt. He wants everyone to know you're his. He makes you remember with his fingers in your pussy, dragging them in and out as he nips your ear, "No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else can see you like this." And you whimper and beg, writhing beneath him, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eats you out, lips and tongue and light grazes of teeth, staring at you through his lashes, memorizing every sound you make as he edges you for longer than you can handle, fucks you with his tongue, tastes you like a feast made just for him.

Wally is exactly the type to fuck you until you scream. He starts slow when you're already on the brink, cock thick and heavy, teasing himself against you as he kisses your breasts, sucks your nipples, one hand on your throat—a reminder, a promise—while he strokes himself with the other, flushed tip against your entrance. "You need me right here, don't you baby?" And then he rocks into you in one deep, grinding motion, stuffing you so full you might burst. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you scream my name, baby girl." It's rough, hard, he grips your thigh tight enough to bruise as he bites your bottom lip, licks into your mouth, makes you squeeze around him. "So tight, baby, so good for me. You want me to make you come? You think you earned it?"

Wally is definitely the type who fucks like an animal after he sees another guy talk to you, but he's also the type who gets off on making you wait for that sweet release when it suits him. But even he has his limits, begins to pant and groan, hips moving faster, hands around your wrists where they're pinned above your head, his other hand between his body and yours, spit-wet thumb rubbing your clit as he watches your face, wants to see the moment you fall apart for him and when you do, "Good girl, baby, fuck, that's it, let me feel it, baby, make me come" and you convulse around him, your pussy gripping him so tight as you come that it milks his climax from him. He moans, lips crashing against yours.

Wally is exactly the type to cuddle after sex. Gentle touches and soft kisses and loving words, fingertips grazing your cheek as he stares into your eyes in the afterglow. "I love you, baby," in a low, husky voice, forehead pressed to yours, his hand gliding down your body to your side, waist, hip, ass. He pulls you tight against him, already half-hard again, because, Jesus Christ, he's insatiable when it comes to you.

💦___________________________

also on AO3!

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Alphabet Soup.

smut. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several non-linear stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it. (Janet and Wally are dating to increase their social value. meanwhile, Wally wants to get closer to her step-sister. you.)

#milo manheim #wally clark #school spirits #school spirits season 2 #wally clark smut #wally clark fanfiction #wally clark headcanon #wally clark FAQs #fem!reader #wally clark x fem!reader #i did this instead of writing October Moon #Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW)

738 notes · View notes

starkeyisthelastname · 1 year ago

Note

had the absolutely SINFUL thought of reader getting pornstar! Rafe to take photos of her pussy after he creampies it for her only fans

ooooo yes 💦😩

You not only filmed for larger porn companies, but had your own little OnlyFans on the side. Thats how you got started and discovered, a viral video of you that found its way on Twitter. You didn’t post as much as you had use to, with professional filming throughout the week taking most of your time. Most not if all your videos were solos or sexy pictures after you had just done on set, and were freshly fucked.

The constant hate you had received after people found out that the pussy slayer himself was fucking you more than once, had made you upset for the first few weeks. You weren’t use to getting blasted on social media, and the spew of jealous bitches seemed to be never ending. If you were truly the only girl Rafe was fucking more than once, then maybe you needed to turn this negative into a positive and play back.

You were a gasping mess per usual, eyes rolled back and legs spread wide as Rafe’s hung cock pounded into your wanting hole. You were so greedy for him, there was no way that his dick was not made for you. As much as you loved getting paid for having sex on camera, it was almost starting to become a nuisance. You had been faking orgasms every scene you filmed that wasn’t Rafe as he had kept his promise of ruining your holes for anyone else.

“You like that shit whore? Who’s fuckin dick you makin a mess on?” Rafe asked through gritted white teeth, his hand giving you a light but firm slap to your cheek as he continued his brutal pounding.

It amazed you how this man could make you dumb on the dick with such ease. It was like you were learning how to talk again while he gave you pipe, your words slurred and broken as you tried to figure it out. Another slap to your sparkly cheek though, had you snapping out of it real quick as his thrusts slowed down. “You really think I’m playin today? You want Rafe Cameron’s nut in your pussy, I suggest you start speaking the fuck up.” His cerulean eyes completely dark, something you had learned about him when he was close to coming undone himself.

You whined pathetically, knowing you did. Every time he filled your pussy up with his seed, it almost made you feel like you belonged to him in such a deeper way. His dirty words were always a catalyst for throwing you over the edge to your climax, your sopping cunt sucking him as you pleaded him to not slow down. “No no no…. don’t slow down. I need it Rafe… I’m makin a mess a-all over your big cock!” You blabbered incoherently, his thrusts speeding back up as soon as you said his name.

Your words didn’t make much sense, but that didn’t matter to you when he squeezed your throat as you came all over him and a few thrusts later he was spilling himself inside you with a string of loud grunts and nasty words. It was when he slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, that he leaned back to admire his work. “Such a pretty fuckin pussy filled with my cum.” He mumbled, a blissful smile spreading across your beautiful face.

“Take a picture. I wanna see…” You said softly, an idea coming to your head as you reached for your phone. Not only were you uploading these to your OnlyFans for a little refresher and new content, you were about to make all those other hoes big mad by posting it on Twitter.

There were two pictures with the flash on and a 10 second video of Rafe’s digits spreading your pussy lips open to show his cum spilling out of your fucked out hole and onto the sheets of his bed. Anyone who knew Rafe, knew he always wore a distinct gold signet ring on his index finger. So when you uploaded the video to Twitter with the caption ‘Y’all can still be mad😢 but guess who’s getting creampied by him? Not you. 🤣’

Let’s just say… you got your little revenge.

#rafe cameron #pornstar!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe concepts #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

2K notes · View notes

birthanon · 5 months ago

Note

🤰2️⃣🏠🖐️🏳️🦵🐢💦

+bad positions (i don’t have the emoji)

For the build a birth game/prompt

Yay my first emoji prompt! Thanks for this, I had fun with it. I don't really do orgasmic births as I said when I reposted this, but I did try to have at least one more pleasurable moment. I hope that fits your ask well enough.

Summary: to earn money for her twins, a woman and her husband stream the birth with a twist, every twenty minutes she has to switch to a different position decided beforehand by the viewers! Contains: fpreg, willing birth denial, pushing the baby back in, a straight couple, streamed birth.

Rebbecah gasped for breath as her latest contraction eased, then sat up slightly on her bed so she could get a better look at her husband, Drew, as he fiddled with camera equipment.

“You better be ready with that equipment,” she gasped. “‘Cause the baby’s coming.”

“Just a moment,” Drew said.

Another contraction struck, and Rebbecah moaned, pressing her legs together to try and forestall the massive head that was shifting deep inside her. Still it moved, the pressure on her cervix increasing just slightly.

“There we go.” Drew stepped away from the video camera, which was blinking red. The computer next to it showed what the camera was seeing, Rebbecah sitting on the edge of the bed—her long brown hair tied up in ponytail that had seen better days, her face red with exertion and covered in sweat, the tight red dress she wore, which clung to her enlarged chest and her massive torpedo stomach. The amount of live views was already up to nearly thirty people despite having just started, and was continuing to tick up.

“Hello everyone, welcome to our live birth stream. For those who are new, I’m Drew and this is Rebbecah, as she’s been in labor with our twins since last night. Her water broke an hour ago, and I’ve just confirmed she’s ten centimeters dilated and ready to push! We’ve asked for suggestions for birthing positions, and I’ve gone ahead and picked three per child. The way this is going to work is I’ll call out a birthing position and help Rebbecah get into it, she’ll then have to hold that position for twenty minutes. After which, she can get into any position she wants to finish birthing the child. Think you can do this, Rebbecah?”

It had seemed like a really good idea yesterday, now, already exhausted from hours of labor, Rebbecah was slightly less sure. But this was for her husband, for her fans, and more importantly, to raise money for her children. When they’d budgeted having a kid, they hadn’t planned on two after all. “Yes,” Rebbecah confirmed.

Drew grinned at her, a large, brilliant smile. “Good, good, and you remember our safe word?”

“Turtle.”

“That’s right. We want to have some fun, but we value your safety and the baby’s safety first. Use it if you need to.” Then Drew turned to the camera again. “As a reminder, all proceeds we get today will go into a college saving fund for the babies. Let’s start with our first position—lotus.”

Rebbecah slowly shifted her weight to the side of the bed and spread her legs, allowing her long, heavy stomach to sink between them. Then, slowly she rose. Gravity shifted, pulling the baby further down, and she gasped at the sheer weight of the baby’s massive head in her hips. She began to squat down, triggering a contraction, and she couldn’t help but push. The head moved, stretching her, creeping down. So full. She moaned. The contraction eased.

With Drew’s help, she carefully sat down on the ground. The hard tile floor of their playroom pressed harshly against her overly sensitive crotch as she sat. Then she shifted back so she could cross her legs, and it was a little better. On the plus side, her pussy was not touching the hard floor. Her stomach, low with birth, was, however, resting inside her lap. Everything felt scrunched up. She couldn’t lean back in this position, though her body demanded it.

“This is good,” Drew said. “Now rest your hands on your knees like you are meditating, and we’ll start the timer.”

That would require shifting her weight from her hands to her legs, moving everything forward even more. It seemed an awful idea, but this had originally been her idea, so she complied. Contractions lasted for about one minute, breaks lasted for about two. She only had to hold this position for about six contractions. She could do that.

The first contraction came, and she curled up around her stomach, her hands slipping from her knees to hold the firm, contracting orb. She pushed, and gravity helped. The head moved down, still, so deep in her. It eased. She returned to her position, breathing deeply, and making “om” sounds for her audience.

The next contraction struck, and she pushed through that one, curled around herself. By her third, she was soaked in sweat, her dress stuck to her, tugging at her. Everything felt tight. She needed to lean back, to spread her legs fully, to give herself more space. She needed to escape, claustrophobia making it hard to breathe.

“Please,” she gasped to Drew as the contraction died down. “The dress. Take it off.”

“All right,” Drew said. “We’re just under half way through our first position, and we’re going to pause real quick for a wardrobe change.”

He knelt by her, warm hands brushing her thighs as he helped shimmy the fabric out from underneath her butt. Then she held her hands over her head and he pulled it off. She felt instantly better. Then, under her direction, he removed her large, black lacy bra, leaving her completely naked. He resumed his station by the phone timer, and she placed her hands back on her knees.

She looked up at the computer facing her and grinned at what she saw. She sat cross legged, hands resting on her knees, her stomach filling her lap, her large breasts hanging down on top of her stomach. Though she was clearly exhausted, she seemed to glow, like some sort of fertility goddess, a mother buddha.

Then her fourth contraction struck, she watched her stomach visibly sink into herself with the force of her muscles, before she closed her eyes and gave in to her body’s demands, pushing.

She reached her sixth, gasping, sore and eager to move again, waiting eagerly for the timer to go off, but because of the pause to change clothes, a seven struck while she was still lotusing. She groaned, curling into herself. There was so much pressure, the help of gravity, but her legs weren’t spread enough, there wasn’t enough room.

“And that’s time,” Drew announced, and Rebbecah smiled, satisfied she finished the first twenty minutes and made progress. She spread her legs in relief, stretching them, and grinned as she caught sight of her bulging pussy on the computer, hinting at the size of the head waiting just inside her lips.

“Looks like she made good progress,” Drew commented. “Your next position is hands and knees.”

Rebbacah smiled in relief, and with Drews help, managed to get into the position, her forcefully spread legs making it rather difficult to move. She couldn’t see her progress, but she could see her stomach, hanging down beneath her, nearly touching the ground. This was a far better position, and she was eager to make progress in the next twenty minutes.

The first contraction came, and the difference was immediate, there was far more space, and the baby moved forward, stretching her lips for the first time. She gasped at the sting and stopped pushing for a moment, surprised. Then her body’s demand to push took over, and push she did. The stinging sensation grew. “It’s coming,” she gasped between pushes, “it’s coming!” Then the contraction eased, and the baby slid back. Rebbecah groaned, panting for breath.

The next twenty minutes passed relatively quickly, the head slipping out just a bit more with each push, stretching Rebbecah in ways she’d never been stretched before, and then sinking back into her when she stopped pushing. By the time Drew called time, the head had just begun to stay, a messy bit of dark hair peeking out between her pale, stretched lips.

“I think we’re just about reaching a full crown,” Drew announced. “Wonderful job my dear, are you ready for the third position?”

Her knees were sore, so Rebbecah nodded, distracted by the stretching that was happening down below. Balancing on one hand she reached out with the other, awkwardly around her large bump until she could cradle her child’s head. She whimpered when she accidentally bumped it, sending shooting pains through her body, but smiled as she cupped the emerging head gently in her hand. She was so distracted she didn’t quite process the next position Drew had announced. “Sorry?” she asked.

“Handstand,” Drew repeated. “In the interest of safety, I’ll help you up each time you have a contraction, then once it eases you can go back down into a resting position.”

Rebbecah paled. The baby was right there. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“Are you going to use your safe word?” Drew asked.

Rebbecah played with the hair on her emerging child’s head, then glanced at the viewer count and the amount raised. They needed more. “No,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Drew tried to help her stand, but she only got about halfway up before her hips protested. She couldn’t do that. Instead, she crawled to the wall, her baby’s head sticking out of her pussy the whole way, rested her head on the pillow Drew had placed for her, and waited.

“Contraction,” she said as her stomach began to tense. Then she kicked, awkwardly, weakly, off the floor. Drew caught her legs, and pulled them all the way up.

Her legs got forced together in the process, the gravity shifting, and her baby sunk back into her despite the force of the contraction. Rebbecah screamed in pain as her baby kicked in protest. She wanted to reach up and caress her stomach, but she was using her hands to support herself. Her breasts had fallen in her face, dripping sweat and milk across her cheeks. The agony continued on, the blood rushing to her head, the weight of her over-stretched womb pressing on her lungs. Forget sixty seconds, or even two minutes, it seemed to go on forever. Then, finally, her stomach eased, and Drew helped her feet down, until she curled in a ball around her stomach, panting.

The pain in her crotch had eased. All the progress she’d made in the last twenty minutes erased during a single contraction. She could still feel her baby between her hips, right behind her lips, filling her. Five more, she told herself.

The baby eased back down between contractions, settling against her lips again. Then her stomach began tightening, shrinking away from her arms and thighs, and Rebbecah gathered herself and kicked off the ground once more. Drew, ever faithful, caught her legs and got her the rest of the way up.

She’d thought this one would be less bad, since she’d already lost her progress. She was wrong.

She could feel her baby sinking further back, into her birth canal despite her contraction. Groaning, she focused her core and tried to push against gravity. The baby stopped sinking back. She managed to keep it there, just behind her lips, pushing with all her might. As the contraction eased and she was gently brought back to the floor, she even managed to push it out a bit more, the sting of her lips spreading a welcome sensation after the lost process. She felt proud of that progress, right up until the next contraction when it sunk right back in her again..

She was barely aware of herself as he lowered her down after that contraction. As soon as she could think again, she reminded herself that she was half done, three more to go. And then the next struck. It was harder to get up. And she’d barely managed to catch her wits after it, when the next contraction hit. She lost count. Was she done? Did she have more? Her whole being yearned for the alarm.

Another contraction, surely that had been six already? She was dizzy, exhausted, pushing against gravity just to keep the baby at her lips, then, mid-push, the alarm went off, and Drew thankfully lowered her to the ground. She immediately kept pushing, and the long forestalled baby shot forward, returning to a partial crown in moments.

“That was a tough one, Rebbecah,” Drew said, “But you did it. Now how do you want to finish this birth out?”

Remembering how right it had felt to push while squatting, she chose that, and Drew came up behind her, his warm body pressed against her, supporting her as she fell into a squat, her hips wide, the baby coming out. By the time she’d managed her position, the contraction was upon her. She pushed, grunting in effort, watching herself in the computer as the head slowly, but surely emerged. The nose was just making its exit when the contraction stopped, leaving her gasping, spread at her widest point, her legs shaking with effort and pain.

“It’s coming, one more push, love,” Drew said.

So she pushed, and with a gush, the head popped free. Dizzy, with relief, She collapsed against Drew, staying only in her squat because he held her there, as the shoulders began to turn. She reached down, holding the head as her pains returned, and she began to slowly push out the shoulders. They were even wider, and took two contractions to get out despite her best pushing, but finally, the baby gushed out of her and began to cry.

“There’s baby number one!” Drew announced. He helped Rebbecah down until she was leaning against the bed, and went to fetch scissors and she held the baby close to her, soothing it. The two of them made the most of the refractory period, then then contractions began again.

“Time for baby number two,” Rebbecah announced, reluctantly handing her first child to Drew. She was exhausted, but the brief break and actually seeing the baby left her feeling revitalized. She could do this again. There wasn’t a position that could be worse than upside-down. “What’s my first position?”

“Tied to the wall,” Drew answered, setting the baby down in a waiting crib and gesturing to the chains which hung on their wall for their more spicy streaming sessions.

With shaking legs and Drew’s assistance, Rebbecah waddled over to the wall, where Drew attached the cuffs to her hands, then pulled the chains taunt, pulling her weight up, off her legs. Then he spread her legs apart and secured them to the wall as well in the leg cuffs. Her arms, tied together above her head, taking most of her weight and restricting her breathing, her legs forcibly spread apart.

It was uncomfortable, but doable, her contractions came, she pushed, and the baby moved slowly but surely down. Far easier than her first baby since she had already stretched, but she was exhausted, her pushes were less powerful, and so the two forces evened each other out. Being chained to the wall like this was familiar, one of her favorite games, and it allowed her to embrace the pain. She vocalized freely, moaning with each push, feeling the baby spread her wide open, completely lost in the sensation of giving birth.

Drew, meanwhile, was also distracted, answering questions in the chat, watching his baby, and of course his beautiful wife, tied to a wall, her stomach visibility sinking into her with each contraction. She was beautiful, and it made his length ache with desire. So caught up with the sight he was, that he didn’t realize he’d forgotten to set the timer.

It wasn’t until forty minutes later, when the baby’s head began to crown, that he realized his mistake. Quickly, he set his phone to a one second timer, so it would go off. At the sound, Rebbecah’s eyes opened. She smiled, panting. “Seemed to last forever, that one,” she joked. “Baby’s pretty much already born.”

Drew smiled, awkwardly. “You are doing great my love. But you can’t give birth just yet. Still have two positions to do.”

Rebbecah eyed Drew nervously as he drew closer. He reached for her chin, turning her toward him so she could see his smile. She smiled back at him, exhausted.

“I’m so very proud of you,” he said. “You’ve done so amazing.” He leaned in, and kissed her, and she kissed him back, passionately, feeling his hands caress her belly, and then reach down lower, until one cradled her baby’s head. He pressed his lips more insistently against her, his other hand moving up to fondle her leaking breasts. She moaned into his advances, heat pooling between her legs then, with a quick jerk, he shoved her baby’s head back inside her.

She cried out, breaking off the kiss as the agony coursed through her. Her baby kicked, she couldn’t breathe with pain, yet he chased her with his mouth, capturing her lips in another kiss. He stepped away reluctantly, hand dripping with birthing fluids.

“There now,” he gasped, pink-cheeked and clearly aroused. “You are all ready for your second position—sitting on my lap.”

He untied her, easing her back to the floor, when another contraction hit. Remembering the agony of having the baby shoved into her, Rebbecah tried not to push, and succeeded for only about ten seconds before she gave in, squating instinctively, spreading her legs, grunting with effort, feeling her baby begin to emerge once more.

Drew waited patiently for the contraction to end, then pulled her over to a soft chair before the camera. He sat down, then he eased her onto his lap, so she was facing him. Her naked, gravid stomach pressed up against his well toned abs. He’d removed his shirt at some point, though Rebbecah couldn’t remember when that happened. Then Drew’s hands caught Rebbecah’s hips. One of her legs on either side of his thigh, he pulled her down until her cunt rested directly atop his thigh, naked except his navy blue boxers. She glanced down, noticing his very prominent bulge. “Glad you’re enjoying this,” she said.

Then a contraction hit. She instinctively used her feet for leverage to pull herself off him to give herself even an inch or so to give birth, but his hands around her waist held her still. After two contractions with zero progress, she gave up trying to escape, and instead leaned into it, grinding against his thigh, trying to chase the agony and exhaustion away with the growing warmth down there.

Each time she shifted back and forth, her stomach rubbed against Drew’s dick through his boxers. He groaned at the sensation, holding her closer and closer, as she pressed down on her thigh. The pain of the contractions was distracting, she couldn’t quite reach an orgasm before getting distracted, but the growing heat was doing something for the pain.

Drew, unfettered by contractions, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. They were hot, moist, cloying. Enjoyable, and yet at the same time too much. But it was all too much, so Rebbecah leaned into it, pressing down harder searching for release, for something, for anything, to escape the pressing need to give birth.

The alarm went off, but Drew was caught in the moment and didn’t seem to notice, his breathing staggered.

Rebbecah pulled away, gasping. “Drew, the timer. Please. I need to give birth.”

But he chased her lost in his own ecstasy, forcing his lips on her once more. Another contraction hit, and Rebbecah could resist the urge to push no more—she did, feeling her baby press against Drew’s thigh as he finally reached his climax, his breath stuttered, and wetness bloomed across his boxers.

Her contraction was over by the time his breathing had steadied and he managed to stop the timer. Rebbecah took the opportunity to use his shoulders and stand, her legs spread over his. The baby, just behind her lips.

“The last position?” she asked desperately.

“Laying on your stomach.”

That seemed awful, but the pressure at least, would force the baby out faster. She agreed, and he helped her down to her hands and knees, then, carefully, gingerly, she lowered herself down. The force on her stomach ached, then came a contraction. She pushed and the baby jerked forward after being contained for so long. The sudden burning came as a surprise and her shaking arms gave way, dropping her down to the ground, adding to the pressure within her exponentially. With a sudden searing pain, the baby was at a full crown, and it was just the first contraction!

“That was fast,” Drew said. “We can’t have that.”

Quivering, legs spread, laying atop her massive stomach, she waited for the telltale touch of his hands on her. They brushed past her clit, playing there for a moment, then cupped her baby and shoved them in. She cried out, feeling her lips close once again over the child's head. Her vision grayed out a bit, and then she was pushing once more, and the stretching was happening, and the baby was coming out again, the pressure on her stomach was so much. Then his hands, were there again, about the push the baby back in and—

“Turtle!” Rebbecah cried. “Turtle, please. Please don’t.”

Immediately, Drew was there, helping her up, off her stomach, her baby still at a full crown stretching her wide. He helped her exhausted, shaking body back into the squat. A contraction came, she pushed, and the head inched forward. She whined. “Come out, baby, come out.”

“You are doing marvelously, love,” Drew whispered, running hand through her hair. “I am so proud. You are so strong.”

The next contraction came, she pushed again, for a full minute and a half, the baby’s head bobbed in her cunt, unmoving, her stretched, red lips glistening. Then finally, at the next contraction, something shifted, and the head shot out. Her legs gave out at the shock, and Drew eased her gently backwards so she was leaning against him as the shoulders twisted, and then, finally emerged, crying. “We did it,” Rebbecah gasped, smiling, tears streaking her eyes. Then she looked up at the amount of money they’d made. “Wow,” she gasped. “We really did do it. I think we could even afford to have some more.”

#birth denial #birth kink #giving birth #birth story #public birth #BirthAnonAnswers

411 notes · View notes

dark-moonlust · 9 months ago

Text

The Griffin’s Claim

Pairing: griffin x f!human reader Summary: your mate is obsessed with flying in the sky while you are strapped to his cock. He wants to keep your pussy stretched and filled. Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, oral(fem receiving), tail stimulation, big 🍆, p in v sex, flying while strapped, lots of 💦.

This is one of my top fav smut. Please let me know if you liked it!!!

It was a lovely morning, and you had just finished your chores at the village. You walked deep within the forest, then headed up the slope, waiting at the clearing. It had been six months since you’d started dating your griffin, and despite your differences you had learned how to work things out. Interspecies matings were rare but not impossible in your age and time. With patience, you had even managed to take your boyfriend’s monster cock, though he was still training you to accept more pleasure.

At that thought, your pussy became wet and you rubbed your thighs to alleviate the need.

You heard your mate approach before you saw him.

The dense forest around you seized to exist as the powerful griffin you called yours, descended from the sky. He flapped his powerful wings with its colorful feathers, his body strong and lean, that of a lion. He had the head of an eagle, a long tail and wings that spanned wide across the sky. His eyes were sharp and bright amber, and they could see miles ahead.

Right now, his eyes were fixed on you as he landed gracefully before you. He was huge and tall, four times your height and tones heavier. But he was also so tender with you. He held you close to his tawny lion coated body, his wings coming to envelope your smaller frame. You buried your face in his fur, feeling completely protected while his beak nuzzled against your face.

“Ready to go home, my mate?” he asked, his voice husky. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, my love.”

Smiling you prepared to ride his back when he stopped you with a soft click of his tongue. “Aren’t you forgetting something, sweetheart?”

You pouted, shifted nervously because you knew what he meant. He wanted to strap you to his cock while flying. It was one of his ways to stretch your pussy. You had tried it a couple of times, always in the dead of the night when no one could see you. You still recalled how deep he had fucked you while soaring the sky. And the orgasms… they were so intense and toe-curling.

“Again? I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and thrill.

“You’re my mate,” he said, his shining amber eyes gazing into yours. “You can do this and you should be proud of that. Proud of taking my cock so beautifully.”

His words caused more liquid heat to pool in your pussy. “But… it’s broad light and someone might see. It’s shameful.”

He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Shameful? No, my sweet. It’s necessary. Because your tight pussy needs lots of preparation. It will take me at least half an hour to fly us back to our home, and that’s more than enough time to stretch your soaked little cunt around my cock.”

“People might see…” you trailed off, eyes lowering to the ground.

“Oh, I will make sure they see how gorgeous you are.”

With a gentle yet firm grip, he turned you around, lowering you on your hands and knees. You whimpered but obeyed as his large, clawed hands tore your clothes, tossing them away. You felt the sun kiss your bare skin. He really was going to prepare you for this. And your treacherous core clenched at that thought.

Sitting down behind you, your mate caressed the lines of your body, careful of his claws. “Smooth and soft.”

Strong hands cupped your breasts, enfolding them completely in his strong grip. He felt them up, massaging the pert mounds that were far too small in contrast to his massive palms. He rubbed around your aching nipples, flicking the buds. You whined and pressed back against him, seeking more. His touch trailed down your belly and he gripped your hips, spreading your legs apart and bearing your pussy and ass to his view.

“Let’s loosen you up so you can take my cock deep, hmm?” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

“Please… it’s so open here—”

“Be a good girl for me,” he said, slapping your bum lightly and causing you to jerk.

“Hey!”

Another slap, this time closer to your pussy.

You whined and wiggled your ass.

“Be good or else I’ll fuck both your naughty holes, cock in your pussy, tail in your ass.”

You stayed still at the (delectable) threat. “I’ll be good.”

Chuckling darkly, he leaned closer and opened his wings to shield you as his hot breath ghosted over your pussy. You bit back a whine and closed your eyes when he licked you up, his wide tongue lapping at your entrance. You clutched the soil and moaned softly as he ate you out, tilting his head slightly to the side, so that he didn’t hurt you with his beak. His tongue was blessedly long and it worked its way inside you, stretching and fucking your hole until you were panting with need, your embarrassment giving way to pleasure.

“Look at you,” he purred as he watched your pussy flutter. “So wet, so ready for me. Fuck… I want to be so deep inside you.”

Before you could respond, he positioned his front legs at the sides of your head, his underbelly pressing against your spine. The tip of his massive cock pressed against your entrance, probing carefully. It popped in with a wet sound and you both moaned loudly. A slow, deliberate thrust and he pushed further inside, pushing past the resistance of your body, filling you inch by inch. You cried out and arched back, the stretch almost too much to bear once he bottomed up inside you.

The angle was intense, his cock filling you so deep that your belly bulged with his size. You felt the fat head kissing your cervix, his ridges and protrusions stimulating your walls. Taking his dick seemed almost impossible but not painful, even if you were a human. You were his fated one, it was the reason why you could mate so intimately with him.

“Damn, so tight,” he growled as he thrusted deep, drawing back his cock which was laved in your juices before slamming back in. “But you’re taking me so well, such a good mate. Such a good cunt.”

His tail sneaked between your thighs, the tip rubbing your clit. You blabbered inarticulate words, your body trembling beneath him, his deliberate ministrations blindsiding you. Mating and fucking your monster boyfriend was no simple job. It took much more work than a regular human relationship. But you’d change nothing. You wanted him so much and it felt so good to be filled by him, body and soul.

Wet squelching sounds echoed through the clearing as you rocked against your mate, taking his monster shaft over and over. Your cunt stretched and tried to suck him in, fitting him like a glove. He growled and pounded his talons on the ground and it didn’t take long for both of you to reach your peak.

You came first, white-hot pleasure exploding like lightning bolts and taking over your body. Your whole frame trembled violently as he buried his shaft deep and released with a shrill, probably alerting the whole forest. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides, his seed like a torrent at first then turning into ripples that slowly stopped.

Drawing back, his large cock left your pussy with a lewd squelch. You whined, feeling his seed trickle down your folds then drenching your thighs. Turning you head gently, his beak traced your lips in imitation of a kiss. When you opened your mouth, his long, flexible tongue slipped inside to explore your mouth. Your tongues danced together, and you tasted your arousal on his tongue.

”Now, let’s get you strapped on, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes glinting down at you.

“Pl…ease,” you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea. “It’s too much…”

“Is it painful, little one? Is that why you are so against it?”

“No!” you said firmly. “It’s just… I’m so sensitive, I’m gonna cum again—”

“Great. I want you cumming again and again, making a mess all over.”

With that, he rolled you on your back and lowered his body, so you were under his lion underbelly. Using his beak, he released the leather bindings at his sides and pressed even closer to you, his cock throbbing against your cum-stained pussy. Gulping audibly, you looked at his shaft; it had a stout round tip and surrounding ridges and protrusions along its length. And it was still rock hard, jutting against your folds proudly.

Your breath hitched when he thrust forward, impaling you in one smooth glide. You were far too wet and he stretched you open once again, taking away your ability to think with how deep and big he was. This time he didn’t fuck you. He stayed buried deep inside, your belly bulging against his own.

“Now strap the bindings safely around you,” he ordered softly, his eyes leaving no room for refusal.

Breathing shakily, you began to secure the buckles that cradled your bum, then the ones that fastened around your waist. It wasn’t an easy task… with his cock throbbing deep inside you and his fur rubbing against your sensitive nipples. After some minutes of fumbling and moaning at the friction, you managed to seal your body to his, both of you locked as one. You wrapped your arms around his body, your legs up in the air.

Your mate tested the security of the bindings, shifting to his full height, taking you with him. Suspended in the air, you nearly sobbed at the sensations. The slightest movements caused his cock to plunge and tease your insides. Your mate growled low, affected by the feel of you as he walked back and forth, with your weight under him, his cock pulsing inside you. Then he stood on his back talons, embracing you with his front legs. Just to make this doubly secure.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s how I want you to take me. All the time.”

You could only hum and he spread his wings, his powerful muscles flexing as he prepared to fly. With a mighty leap, he took to the sky, the wind rushing against your skin, combined with the constant pressure of his cock inside you. Each beat of his wings took you high above the trees until the forest landscape became a distant blur. His cock drove you wild, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly, the sound lost in the flapping of his wings.

“That’s it,” he said loud enough for your to hear. “My perfect human mate, so full and stretched around me.”

The fly back home passed in a blur of moans and bliss. He gave you one orgasm after another, his seed filling you, leaking down your thighs in obscene amounts. He floated low enough to show you off, roaring proudly as he marked you for all to see, the scent of him bathing you. By the time you reached home, you were covered in his cum, exhausted but blissfully fucked.

Please let me know what you think? Comments and reblogs would make me super happy!

#griffin smut #griffin x reader #griffin x you #griffin fuckers #monster x reader #monster x you #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster lover #monster fucker #monster fudger #monster romance #monster x female reader #terat0philliac #terato #monster kink

904 notes · View notes

eddiemunsonsbabygirl · 18 days ago

Text

The Munson Alphabet

A/N: GUYS! I’M BACK! Well, kinda but imma feed you this month with this alphabet sex thing I always see! Hopefully you guys LOVE it! Comments and reblogs are much loved and needed. Also would like to add that I might take you off tha taglist if you don’t interact with my writing or not reblog or anything of the sort. But I’ll give you chances so dw! Just, yeah. Anyways, enjoy my freaks 🤗🤭

MINORS DNI WITH THIS 18+!

A = Aftercare (how good is he at cleaning you up after) 🛌

He’s a fucking angel. After all that’s been done, he cuddles you for a while and peppers you in kisses and praises you and makes you relaxed and even more special and spoils you rotten. He’ll stay inside you for a bit, never wanting to leave you. But soon he does and he’ll either help you up and take you to the bathroom to get you cleaned or he’ll feed you first. Either way, you’ll get some water and food and the rest is all just relaxing. He’s an angel, I swear.

B = Body Part (his favorite body part on himself and you) 🦵

On him - He’s not super cocky about himself and he’s humble and a bit insecure but if he had to pick it’d be his hands. It’s like a gift to him. He has those things on his wrist and he can make you feel good with them. Hold your face, make you moan, squeeze every inch of you, all of it. He can do so much with them.

On you - He couldn’t pick one for the life of him but if he really had to life or death, it’s be your face. Just all of it. The expressions you make when he’s making you feel good. How sweet you look when you smile and admire him. How goddamn sexy you look when you’re pissed. How fucking cute you are when you giggle. Your face needs to be tattooed on him. And it will be. It’s a masterpiece.

C = Cum (anything to do with it) 💦

He loves to see it on you. Not just in a way to mark you as his, but the fact that he’s the lucky bastard that gets to mark you. That’s his cum, on you. You. It’s always you. When it’s on your face, it’s beautiful. When it’s in your mouth, it’s hot as fuck. When it’s on your tits, holy fucking shit. When it’s on your hands, oh god. You made him do that and he’ll always die a happy man.

D = Dominance (how dominant is he) 👿

Unfortunately, not as much as you’d think. He’s a switch. Yeah he likes to take charge every once in a while, but it’s sexier when you’re on top. But if he’s mean, he’s MEAN! And even if he’s mean, he’d never say slurs or anything crazy or make you feel belittled (sorry to the people that do like that).

E = Experience (does he know what he’s doing) 😏

Kinda. I mean, he’s seen some things. That boy ain’t innocent he’s research his shit. But, he’s most likely a virgin. No cross that - he is a virgin (I’m not listening to all of what the book says okay?). But I think he knows what to do and yeah, he knows where the clit is.

F = Favorite Position (self-explanatory) 🧎🏻‍♀️

Missionary or cowgirl. Anything to see your face. Mainly missionary, you or him on top. Doesn’t matter. He loves seeing your face. He needs to see it. He also needs to kiss you every five seconds. So missionary is where it’s at.

G = Goofy (is he more goofy or serious during the moment) 🤪

Very fucking goofy. But not in a way that’d turn you off. He’s just giggly sometimes and he likes to still crack a few jokes while he’s fucking deep into you. It’s second nature. And when he is dominant, he’s not super goofy but he kinda is. A little. But for the most part he’s just a silly guy.

H = Hair Pulling (does he like having his hair pulled) 👨🏻‍🦱

All of the fucking sudden he’s a goddamn pornstar when you pull his hair. He moans like a whore. He fucks you even more. It spurs him on. He loves that shit and it has to be done at least once during sex.

I = Intimacy (how romantic is he during the moment) 🔥

Super fucking romantic Jesus Christ. All of the sudden he’s reciting Shakespeare to you. Well, not actually, but he’s so sappy. He just really fucking loves you.

J = Jealousy (does he get jealous easily) 😡

Yeah. In both ways. He gets possessive, but he also goes vulnerable. More of the latter. And when he’s jealous, well buckle up your panties sister ya going for a ride.

K = Kinks (a couple of his kinks) 🥴

Pain kink. Loves pain. That’s all.

Praising. He needs to know he’s a good boy doing a good job and how good he’s being and how perfect he is and how sexy he looks and- you get the point. He needs that.

L = Location (his favorite spots to do it) 📍

Top three would be his room, his van, and in your room. His room because well that’s his room and he has a hot chick in his room on his dick oh my fucking god. His van because again, holy shit. His van. Your room because again, what the fuck. He’s the luckiest man with you, in the most safest, vulnerable, comfort places. Where you both find a place to call home. It’s special and sacred to him.

M = Motivation (what gets him going) 💪🏻

Praises for sure and when you’re mad. Doesn’t matter. When you’re mad, he’ll let you take it out all on him even if he didn’t do anything. And when you praise him, oh baby he’s already doing what you’re about to ask.

N = NO (something he’ll never do) 🚫

Call you slurs. Say names that don’t make you feel good. Belittle you in any way. Anything that doesn’t make you feel good, he won’t do. And he won’t hit you, even if you wanted it. That’s your job, not his.

O = Oral (how good is he at oral) 👅

They don’t call him Eddie “The Munch” Munson for nothing. That man eats pussy like a man starved. He eats you out like he hadn’t eaten food for decades. He will slurp you up like you’re dessert. He might be a virgin, but goddamn does he know what that mouth do.

P = Pace (is he rough and fast or is he gentle and slow) 🏎

Depends but even if he’s mad he’ll be slow. Rough when he’s mad but if he isn’t, it’s slow and gentle and careful. Or it’d be any pace you want it to be. He’s fucking you good. Not too slow, not too fast, not too soft, not too rough. It’s perfect.

Q = Quickie (his thoughts on quickies) ❤️

Not a huge fan because whyyyyyyyyyuuuuhhhhh he wants mooooorrrrreeeee!!! He definitely doesn’t mind though if you or him need relief really fucking bad.

R = Risks (is he willing to get caught with you) ⚠️

When I say he’d do anything for you, he’d do anything for you. He’s so willing to get caught, as long as you are too. If you don’t, he won’t want to either. But also he doesn’t want to get caught because heyyy you’re for him and he doesn’t want to be bothered, thank you very much. But he’d risk it all for you.

S = Secret Fantasy (something he wants to do but never admits it) 😘

I think the pain thing is one of them. He can’t just really say “hey can you slap my cock please and maybe slap my face too it turns me on actually beat me the fuck up while you’re at it, thanks” like it’s casual. Another fantasy I think would be food play. He loves food. He wants you licking whipped cream off of his tip. He wants you to make him messy. He wants hot sauce on your tits. Messy guy, for shame.

T = Top, Switch, or Bottom (self-explanatory) 😵‍💫

Switch more leaning towards bottom.

U = Uncut or cut? ✂️

Cut. He’s definitely cut. He gives off cut vibes. But then again, maybe uncut. But I saw his dick (fictionally), he’s cut.

V = Volume (how loud is he in the moment) 🗣

Pornstar loud. He won’t shut up for SHIT! Sometimes it’s annoying because goddamn man I’m not even doing all that but he don’t give a shit good pussy is good fucking pussy and it’s also you so, he’s gonna prove it.

W = Wildcard (random headcanons) 🃏

He’s got your name tatted at the base of his cock, all pretty and cursive. Full government name by the way.

He’d love to drip wax on you or on him. Have fun with it, make art, mostly on your back and ass.

Wresting is his foreplay. Try and kick his ass. Play fight with him. Mess around with him. Shove him against walls. Pin him to the ground. Kinda like how lions fight. Be mean to him. THAT will get a wild man like him going.

Smokes weed or cigarettes while fucking you sometimes. Shares with you too if you wanted a hit.

Eye contact is a fucking weakness. Again, loves your face. Eyes speak it all. He might look away from you and his cheeks get more red than they are if you’re staring deep in his soul. If he holds eye contact with you more than 5 seconds he’ll bust.

X = X-Ray (what’s he packing in those pants) 🩻

8.3, wide and thick girth, curved a little up, a vein under. BIG for a white dude. And understandable for how he acts.

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive) 😮‍💨

I feel like he’s easy to turn on though sooo maybe high? But I feel like in public he’d really try and hide it. Say you did something or teased him- yeah he popped a boner and he’s mad at you for it but also, he needs you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep after) 😴

He wants you to sleep first, no matter how tired he is. If you don’t wanna sleep, he won’t. If you wanna go to sleep right after, he’ll sleep with you. But he will be drained out no matter what I mean, good pussy is good pussy.

Taglist: @shmeddieshmunson, @eddiesvixen, @ali-r3n, @eddiexmunson, @iheartgrayson, @violetcamryn, @robinbuckleywife, @spookydelusiondream, @spookybecc, @micro-kat, @mayo-nouns-blog, @dreamerjj, @herhideoutbluebird, @lily2105, @gwenmsblog, @wandamox, @downthewitchingwell, @caylieeh, @lil-quinnie, @fandomgirl1999, @secretleyastag, @atla08, @becausecorpseisworthit, @nightwitchlurker, @crybabydoll, @crow03, @yourvenusyour-love, @drowning-in-cosmic-hopes, @shadytimetravelstrawberry, @jadealex02, @rubidubisblog, @bunnygirlgracesworld, @multi-culti-girl, @rainybloo28, @liliglasermunsonquinn, @the-disaster-in-waiting, @bunnygirlgracesworld, @nikki-is-a-nerd, @gh0st-b1tcg 💕💋

divider 😭

246 notes · View notes