#tw masterbation

[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

Do No Harm

Doctor Getou Suguru x reader

TW: General Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, medical setting, injections, IVs, Lying about test results, Masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, mentioned death of readers parents due to cardiac events, murder, and I can’t really sugar coat this... death of reader

A/N: I don’t really think I can call this a valentines day post, but let’s pretend it is! This is probably my darkest fic yet, so reader discretion is heavily advised. Happy late valentines day everyone! 

Word Count: 1.8k

Was it unprofessional? Undeniably. Did he care? Not one bit. How could he be expected to not fall in love with you? He knew intimate details about your body that no one else did, you confided in him, and most importantly, it was his job to care for you. On top of that, the details he was privy to as your doctor made it all too easy for him to grow even closer to you. He knew where you lived, he knew that you were single, he knew that you were an only child, and that both of your parents had died young from sudden cardiac arrest. 

After your first appointment, he knew the two of you had a connection. So what if he ordered some blood work and scheduled a follow-up appointment with you to go over the results even though it was only an intake appointment and there was no clinical indication it was necessary? The number of people who have vitamin deficiencies and don’t know it is quite high. Was it really that bad if your yearly physicals happened twice a year instead of just once? That didn’t seem evil to him, on the contrary actually, he was doing his duty as a healthcare professional and taking your well-being seriously. 

Of course, the repeat blood tests every three months might have been a little bit excessive, especially because you weren’t actually deficient in any vitamins and had no reason to be taking a supplement, but it gave him a reason to see you. Despite the fact that normal lab results were typically discussed on the phone, he couldn’t resist having you come into his office. 

Because of your family's cardiac history, the health of your heart was of great concern. Getou always made sure to perform a thorough cardiac workup at your check-ups. The way you allowed him to listen to your heart and touch the tender flesh on your chest was a delight for him. You were so trusting. Getou would expect nothing less though, he was your doctor after all. As your doctor, one of the hardest things was the uncertainty of whether you would drop dead of a heart attack the same way your parents did, or if you would have no complications at all. At first, this didn’t bother him, but as time passed he found himself obsessing over it more and more. A need for control started to well up inside of him driving him to stock your daily life. 

After one physical where you complained of new-onset chest pain, Getou couldn’t take it anymore. He knew that there was only one thing he could do to ensure his control and guarantee that you wouldn’t suffer. He had really been hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. He loved you and he wished that you could have loved him too, but it seemed as though that was not in the cards you two had been dealt. 

Due to your chest pain, Getou ordered a two-week continuous heart monitor. The data collected from the monitor wouldn’t change his resolve, but he had another important use for it. After placing it and reminding you numerous times not to remove it or let it fall off before the two weeks mark, he let you go on with your day. Little did you know that you and Getou had not actually parted ways when you left his clinic. 

You had a terrible habit of leaving the door unlocked. Just more proof to him that your chances of living a long life were quite slim. At the same time, it was quite beneficial for him. He loved to slip into your closet and wait for the sounds of your vibrator to fill the room followed by your moans. The lewd sounds you made when you thought you were alone seemed like music to his ears. He always jotted down the date and exact time he heard the vibrator, this information would come in handy soon. 

After two weeks of wearing the heart monitor, you handed it over to Getou who told you it would take another week to analyze the data. This wasn't exactly true though. It would probably only take a few days to check for any arrhythmias, but that was not of interest to him. The data Getou sought was related to that list of dates and times he had collected earlier. By looking over the continuously recorded metrics during the times when you masturbated, he could watch the way your heart rate had spiked, the peaks when you came, and its slow return back to baseline when you had thoroughly pleasured yourself. 

His dick grew hard as he looked at the EKG readings in front of him, remembering the noises of sexual satisfaction you made. He began to rub his cock through his pants as he continued to line up your times of self-pleasure with the information from the heart monitor. Getou could feel the pre-cum leaking out of his tip wetting his trunks. Eventually, he decided to stay on the data from one of your various sessions and allow himself to finish. 

It felt below him to jerk off, but right now he didn’t care. Grabbing a box of tissues, he sat back down and allowed his erection to spring free. He spit into his hand for good measure before slowly starting to stroke his throbbing cock. Due to the prior stimulation and the level of arousal he was feeling, it didn’t take long for Getou to reach his point of climax. What helped push him over the edge, sending ropes of cum into the tissues he got, was the slight drop in heart rate after you orgasmed followed shortly by another spike as you chased that high again. As he wiped off the semen from his dick, he made a mental note to call you first thing tomorrow and schedule your follow-up appointment. 

Only a few days later you were seated in his exam room once again. His face was stern as he looked you in the eyes and lied, “your heart monitor revealed prolonged QT intervals. This is a dangerous arrhythmia that can spontaneously cause ventricular fibrillation which can be fatal.” You sat there stunned, unsure of what to say or how to react. Getou continued, “There is an injection I can give you that should help. If you would like, I can give you the first dose today.” Your brain still hadn’t processed the news you had just received, but you nodded your head before confirming, “yes, I would like to have the first dose today.” “Alright then, I will go grab it if you would like to roll up your sleeve.” 

He came back a few minutes later carrying a tray with the syringe, an alcohol pad, and a bandaid. “I just want to warn you,” Getou cautioned as he put on his gloves, “this injection can cause people to pass out sometimes, so don’t be alarmed if you start to feel dizzy, just lay down and let me know.” You nodded in understanding and tried your best not to flinch when the needle pushed its way into your arm. For the first few minutes after the injection, you felt fine. Getou was able to clean up and dispose of everything, but then the room started to spin. You laid back and your vision started to get spotty, “Doctor Getou” was all you managed to squeak out before everything went black.  

So sweet and trusting. Suguru looked at your unconscious body in the rearview mirror on his windshield, you looked so innocent laid across the backseat of his car. In a different life, he could have had the future he dreamed of with you. As your doctor, however, he was sworn to do what was best for you and to do no harm. In order to abide by these principles, Suguru needed to move you to a different facility where he could do what he deemed necessary. “Don’t worry, darling. Soon you’ll be cured.”

You awoke disoriented. Despite the fact that your eyes were closed, you could tell you weren’t in the clinic anymore. The sensation of an IV in your hand caught your attention and you wondered if you were in the hospital. You didn’t have time to question it for long when you heard Suguru’s voice, “I really don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you can.” You tried to turn your head in the direction of his voice, but you found yourself unable to move. “The sedatives and paralytics in your IV drip are just enough to keep you from being awake and able to move, but not to the point where you need a ventilator.” You could hear him moving around the room as he continued to talk. “As your doctor, I only want what is best for you, and I know you know this. I love you dearly, but the oath I took when I graduated from medical school comes first.” Your mind was swimming, trying to understand what was happening and what Suguru was going on about.   

He paused for a minute, letting out a heavy sigh “I just want you to know that the data from your heart monitor will forever serve as a reminder of you, and every time I finish to those perfect EKG waves, I’ll be picturing your beautiful face.” You wanted to crawl out of your skin. How could he say that? Your thoughts continued to race. “I think it’s time we say goodbye now.” A feeling of terror consumed you. “I’m glad I was able to create a plan to cure you, not many doctors out there would care enough about their patients to go to the extreme lengths I am going to for you. The best part about this cure is that it is completely painless. One injection of about 30mg of morphine and everything will be better.” His voice sounded almost cheery. 

The next sensation you felt was a needle pricking your inner elbow and viscous liquid being injected slowly into your vein. “There we go, treatment administered.” After disposing of the syringe in the sharps box, he quickly returned to your side. Your skin was turning pale and the heart monitor began to beep as your heartbeat and breathing rate fell dangerously low. He muted the monitor. Nothing was going to disturb the two of you in these final moments. 

He reached for your hand, it felt cold as he held it, gently running his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing motion. You wanted to open your eyes, your mouth, ANYTHING. You wanted to scream. Your brain was becoming too foggy to even remember how screaming worked, even if it did, it wouldn't matter though and you knew that. It was almost like Getou could read your mind, and as your ears started to ring and the world crumbled away, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, softly cooing, “Shhh. Don't worry, no harm will ever come to you again.”

[bookishphysicsgirl]

So, story time, apparently, because my insurance hasn't come through yet which means I am yet to schedule therapy and as such am about to severely overshare and expose myself publicly on the internet for the sake of feeling a little less lonely I guess. Go grab a seat and some popcorn 'cause this one is gonna be a long one - very very long.

This is about my sexuality (aroace) and how I came to terms with it and where I am now.

TW: mentions of bullying (I guess,I don't really see it as bullying but I was told it was bullying so there), aphobia, masturbation (you have no idea how long it took me to just straight up write that word), periods, and general aro ace queer confusion.

But why not just talk to some ace people near you, if you are in such need of understanding you'd turn to strangers on the internet ? Well, there aren't that many ace or aro people around me and the few that I know are not that great to talk to, not because of their sexuality, mind you, but because they make very uncomfortable jokes and are all cis boys which normally wouldn't be a problem except that I grew up around no men and am kind of akward - especially considering I am one of the very few girls in our major, so internet strangers and possible exposure it is.

Therefore, our story begins when I was about nine and going to Adventist school - because it was cheap and the closest to my house, not because I myself was Adventist - when children started talking about dating and kissing, mostly for jokes but still sometimes seriously. When one of the girls had her period before anyone else and got caught with socks on her bra it was a pure scandal.

I couldn't understand it. I mean I understood why people would want to date and be with significant others more than the typical child that age, since I read a lot and I read anything I could get my hands on, and not always necessarily age appropriate books since adults tend to believe all books are inheritenly good for their children without checking the content.

What I couldn't understand is why would anyone be so worried about things like that so early. In all the stories I saw and the books I read the characters were at least teenagers before they started being interested. That coupled with adults around me saying repeatedly that children were being oversexualized and that it'd be better if they just focus on their studies led me to make a bet with my friends that I would never date or kiss anyone until I was sixteen. Best decision I ever made.

So as the years passed my friends and everyone else arround me started freaking out more and more about crushes and who had kissed who and when they asked me all I had to do was remind them of that bet and they'd leave it alone. Sometimes a few kids would ask me things like whether I wanted to be a nun or why was I actually trying to keep that bet, but mostly I could just completely forget about it.

However as I started getting older - at about 14 - my relatives started noticing and though at first when I told them about my no-dating-until-16 plans they thought I was very smart and concentrating on the right things soon enough I'd catch my aunt and my mom having conversations about how "something must be wrong with that kid" and "you should take her to see a doctor". My aunt suggested I might need hormone therapy.

My friends kept telling me about people who they thought had crushes on me - which usually made me panic because I didn't know how to reject anyone if they were right, kids at my school started asking me increasingly invasive and mean questions ( " have you really never kissed anyone?", "are you just in love with yourself?", "were you abused?", "are you afraid of sex?", "do you even know what a penis looks like?") and my mom kept trying to make me interested in someone.

She would try to make me look at scenes that made me uncomfortable in movies and TV, tell me stories about her sex life, show me pictures of famous people and point at random people on the street and say "aren't they cute?", anytime anyone showed even the slightest bit of interest she would practically throw me in their direction. She asked me if I wanted therapy, if I thought I needed hormonal treatments, if I was a lesbian - totally cute of her but a little off the mark - at one point she even took the whole sapiosexual thing that was going around facebook and convinced me that the reason I hadn't been interested in anyone was because I hadn't met anyone who was intellectually stimulating enough.

At about 15 she asked me if maybe I could be asexual. I think she meant it as a joke but I looked it up anyway and lo and behold there was the answer all along. I pretty much came out immediately to my family and my closest friends and was met with the usual "you'll find someone some day", "it's just a phase", "maybe you should just try it, just to check" but eventually that started to die out and they started to accept it.

I guess part of it was that they thought things would change by the time I got to college and to be honest I was still pretty unsure, but when people asked me inconvenient questions about why I never went out with anyone now I had an actual answer which, of course, led to even more invasive questions from my classmates but I tended to be pretty good at taking it in stride.

I think it was meant to be a joke of sorts, go ask uncomfortable questions to the innocent nerd and see how she squirms so we can laugh about it later, kind of how some boys will make fake crushes and pretend to ask girls they think are ugly out or keep ironically complimenting them to make fun of them, because if they believe it it's funny she was gullible and if she doesn't she can't do much because they can just say they were trying to be nice.

But I pretty much had a policy to always smile and be nice to people and answer them honestly even when you knew they were being purposefully hurtful unless you were in a dangerous situation, because a lot of the joke got lost then, specially when it was obvious I knew what their intentions were and tried to dialog anyway. And though the questions never stopped while I was in High School the jokes did. And I kind of even became sort of friends with some of those boys? They asked me to tutor them, we were nice to each other, we talked about tv shows so I suppose things got better.

At 16, even already wearing the label ace, I was finally without the bet excuse for not dating and without it to hide behind I was forced to really confront my feelings. My friends mostly seemed pretty ok with my identity and didn't pressure me much but they did keep trying to get me to "be mature" and say or do things that made me uncomfortable - but then again these things weren't always related to sex, sometimes they were just trying to get me to swear - or making dirty jokes that I didn't want to hear. At that point my mom had moved on to trying to convince me to at least try to touch myself and telling me how good sex felt and that I'd really be missing out.

But even though I now didn't have my self-imposed silly rule and a very close friend who I really liked was actually interested I still felt no need to be intimate with anybody. There was not a lick of desire anywhere in my body, but I was still pretty conflicted. I knew I had never had a crush or felt lust for anybody but I had always loved romance books and movies and I squealed when two characters got together and I loved cheering for my friends in their love lifes and going to weddings - I could go to a wedding every weekend honestly - and I had always generally been a hopless romantic "in love with love" type of person.

At 17 we had to make a seminar about minorities and since my friend group had the only queer people in the entirety of the school so naturally we were assigned the LGBTQIA+ community. That was the first time I ever read about the distinction of romantic and sexual and platonic attractions and I swear it was like suddenly the entire world clicked in my brain and everything made sense. My friend's ears were probably bleeding by the time I finally stopped talking about it but I could be at least a little more grounded in my asexuality. At least I knew I could maybe still have those things I liked so much in fiction, I could still maybe one day not be alone and have someone to raise a family with, someone to decorate for Christmas with, who would help me in the bad days and who I could share good days with. Who could grow old with me so I didn't have to retire alone and helpless.

After that I was pretty confident, I was in no hurry to find romantic love and just kept thinking that if was going to happen it would just happen. But it did get me thinking about my limits. What would I be willing to do if I ever did get a romantic partner? Would I be willing to do it with anyone who wasn't a romantic partner?

I think it is worth it to note that I was reading smut since I was 13yo. This wasn't exactly because I went out seeking for it, in fact the first few times I came across it I was a bit disturbed, I'm not going to lie, but I was desperate to read new things, kindle had free things to read and sometimes those things had undisclosed smut. At first I skipped it, then I realized I was missing plot and started skimming it and eventually I was just reading it just like you'd read anything else. So despite my friends repeatedly attempting to make me more mature and teaching me the lingo I am 60% sure I was far more educated at that point (when no one had actually done anything more than kissing) than they could have possibly been.

So I did know about things and how the plumbing worked, I just didn't know if I'd ever be willing to test mine. One beautiful day, when no one was home and I was 18 and reading I wondered "maybe I could just try doing it myself, just to see if I even feel anything." And I thought I'd done it wrong, because I didn't scream or pant or do any of the things that the media usually describe, so I tried again that night,and the next day.

Soon I found that not only did it help me relax enough to sleep, something that had evaded me for years on end, I had a pretty high libido because I suddenly could recognize what before I couldn't identify as arousal, and it happened a lot, at random times, but one thing I noticed was that it never had to do with anyone. It mostly happened whenever I started worrying or thinking about sex and sexuality itself but never because of an actual person. I dealt with it pretty often, never thinking about scenarios with myself or things like that, just shadows, or colors, or movements or reading something.

But the fact that I was doing it and that I was doing it so often suddenly put my sexuality into doubt, could I really be ace with what I did alone at night? The fact that I was doubting it so much and that I had over the years built so much of my self within the fact that I am ace made it so I was too scared to even tell anyone about my libido just in case telling them would make them doubt me again, make them invalidate me or tell me I would eventually just magically wake up allo. To this day I have only ever told one person I know personally, and that was on a really bad day.

But I did do something similar to this I'm doing now and posted to AVEN and after very big welcome cakes and assurances that everything I was going through was completely normal and that it didn't make me any less ace, which felt like a balm on an open wound, I calmed down a little.

So, this one day there was a kareoke pizza party at my uni and this guy sings Moana and I sing Moana and we start talking about the merits of the translation and he ends up asking me if I wanna see a movie that night after the party (it was an in-campus party so it didn't end too late) and I as the clueless dork that I am started going around asking if anybody else wanted to come with.

Nobody did which I thought was strange but ok and so we went to the 24h room of the library to watch it and for about 2/3 of the movie I was completely immersed, not even noticing what was happening around me. However, suddenly I got the strange notion that maybe he was getting a bit too close. Like he was trying to do something. Weird.

But I thought that before and it was nothing, and I thought it was nothing when it was something so clearly I am not the best at reading signs from people. And like he was pretty cool, wonderful person really, so he offered to take me to my door and I said yes because I am terrified of walking alone at night and in the middle of the way he did a real movie move and kind of went bumping his hand with mine until he could kind of naturally hold it? That's when my brain went "oh crap."

I had until we got to the door to make a decision. I did like him. But the more I thought about the idea of actually kissing someone the more icky I felt but maybe I should just try it and see what happens? Like everyone keeps telling me to do?

So we get in front of my building and he turns towards me and I look up and I can hear my heart pounding and I just go "sorry, I'm ace." And run as fast as I can towards the door. Yup. Left him cold and did a dash and hide. Not my greatest moment.

Anyway I felt very embarrassed and kind of sorry so I sent an apology text and explained and he said that actually he was totally cool with it and if I wanted to he would love to date without needing the whole physical part. And that seemed like a good idea.

I hated it. Every single minute. Again it wasn't him. I like him, we are friends as much as we can be friends without me akwardly wandering whether I'm leading him on all the time. But the situation, it was just the worse. I just couldn't think of ever doing it again. With anyone.

So, yeah, probably Aromantic too. Which was a surprise.

But the funny thing is that if she wanted to I would marry my best friend in an instant. Not to go on dates, or kiss or for physical intimacy but just so we could officially be there for each other. So I guess my platonic attraction is pretty strong. And there are people I see that I just really like the look of, so aesthetic attraction is also present. And I usually know just by looking at someone that I really want to be friends with them.

But sometimes I still stop and go "is what I'm feeling for this person actually romantic? How do I know?". But I guess that is what being aro or ace or really just queer in general in a world that wasn't really made for you is, constantly second guessing yourself. We just need to learn that that's ok and it doesn't make us any less who we are.

Anyway, hope this helped anyone struggling in their own journey or let people who've already been through this know that they are not alone. Because you are not. We are in this together.

Ok, love you all, bye!

[angrelysimpping]

hey, here's my oc Danny again. This time he's jacking it thinking about his partner, Joaquim. Joaquim and Aksel belong to 💜@inkyquince💜

i honestly don't know what to put uuuuh

solo male masturbation; some thigh fucking; a lil denial of feelings bc Danny is a dummy; caught

Words: 853

It's not often Danny goes out anymore. Even quick runs to the corner store set him on edge, eyes darting from face to face to see if anyone was watching him. He used to not care about things like that. In fact, he used to like it. Liked when he felt eyes on him, liked when he knew he was the object of someone's attention.  

Not anymore. Not with Aksel looking for them. 

It’s even rarer that Joaquim goes out on his own, Danny not wanting the other man out of his sight if he could help it. That meant times like this were rare, times where Danny was left alone with his fist wrapped around his cock.

His fist, and one of the thigh highs Joaquim had accidentally purchased under the impression he was getting some nice, long socks.

Danny had been a mess that day, struck dumb by the sight of his partner wearing nothing but a jumper and soft thigh highs. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate in speaking his mind, whispering nasty scenarios about what he wanted into Joa’s ear and groping his firm ass, but that strip of skin between the top of the sock and the hem of the sweater had left him tongue-tied. He’d even managed to burn himself, pouring boiling water over his hand in an attempt to make Joaquim some hot coco but was too distracted.

Of course, that had been a blessing in disguise, his hiss of pain attracting Joa to him to check if he was okay. It ended with Danny pressed tightly against the smaller man, sliding his aching cock between Joa's pretty thighs. 

‘Such a pervert, Dankovsky,’ Joa had said with a throaty laugh.

The memory makes Danny shudder, bucking into his hand at the ghost of Joa’s voice. 

Joaquim did that to him. Made him buck and whine and ready to drop to his knees at any given moment if it meant having his hand lace through Danny’s dark locks and hearing a murmured ‘Good boy, Dankovsky.’

“Joa,” Danny moans with a sigh, head lolling back as thoughts of his partner flit through his mind. The curve of his neck, the sharpness of his smile. 

His hands, his fingers, the way Joa used them to see the world, to see Danny. The way Joa would drag his palms and fingers over him, mapping every curve and plane of his body. The time Danny had the brilliant idea to wear lingerie and surprise him. The way Joa’s face had lit up and breath hitched. How he laid Danny back in their shitty motel bed and explored every inch of him, licking and biting and sucking through the cloth before pulling the thin fabric aside to fuck Danny stupid.

Maybe he should wear that set again. If Joa hadn’t ripped it to shreds, which was a pretty big ‘if.’ Maybe he could dress up pretty and ask Joa to wear the thigh highs and they could be in heaven together like that. 

God, he loved…loved the way Joaquim touched him. Loved the sounds he made, the words he murmured as Danny rode him or bucked under him. Loved how Joa's hands would grip his hips hard, nose pressed to Danny's neck. Loved the flick of his tongue, loved his gold stud embedded in the thick muscle. Loved the little clink when it met one of Danny's own silver piercings, the way he’d trace the markings the entity had branded into Danny's side with the metal. Loved-

"Joaquim, f-fuck!"

Danny groans deep in the back of his throat, a wordless sound of pleasure, even as the soft fabric of the thigh-high wrapped around his cock catches on one of the piercings on the underside of his cock. It would just make it better when Joa wore them again, a little bit more sink peeking out for Danny to worship. 

There's a familiar tightening in his balls, a tingling spreading up over his spine as the thought envelops him. Joa, standing in front of him, thigh highs ripped and wet with Danny's cum. 

‘What a nasty whore you are, princess, jerking off to the thought of my thighs. You close, Danny boy? Why don't you cum for me, hm?’ 

He can almost hear Joa, a smirk clear in his voice as Danny ruts frantically into his hand. He’s close, so very close, but he needs something else. With a half-choked sound of frustration, Danny turns on his side, burying his face in Joaquim’s pillow. The faux raspberry of his shampoo, the clinging aroma of cigarettes, and that scent that was so distinctly Joa’s: rust and burnt caramel and leather. That’s all Danny needs, spending himself with a low groan into his hand, onto the thigh high.

“My, my, Dankovsky, it certainly sounds like you’re having a good time.”

Danny nearly jumps out of his skin as Joa’s very real voice sounds from the side of the bed. How long had he been back?

“Mind telling me what’s got you so worked up?”

Danny doesn’t answer, opting instead to pull the redhead into bed with him. 

[silentdoves]

This Ain't Misery but I'd Break Your Knees to Keep You Here With Me (Silence x Reader)

Silence has been watching you, but you don't know that. You don't seem them in the dark shadows outside or in the crowds when your in public. One day, when they're watching you, they peek in at a vulnerable time.

18 + MINORS DNI

word count: 805

gn silence x gn reader || stalking, sexual || second person pov

content warnings: stalking, masturbation, breaking in, mentions of rape

just something short for rn (really wanted to add actual rape to this but man i don't have the motivation. if someone requests it though...) (UPDATE: Part 2 is here)

also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47366935

Silence was getting desperate.

They had been watching you from the shadows, following you every single day. You never noticed Silence. In the day light they would follow without their whole Silence outfit on, so you, their victim, never had reason to pay attention to them. And at night, they had grown so good at sneaking around that they made sure you never saw them. Months of this went by, Silence stalking clueless little you outside your own home. They watched you do everything, though they loved watching you sleep most of all. How care free and peaceful you looked. Silence could sneak in there and do whatever they wanted to you. They frequently daydreamed about it, sneaking in through your unlocked window and taking you right there and then. But they held off. The closest they ever got was sneaking into your bedroom and just standing over you, watching you as they slept. Their gloved hand would hover just over your face, threatening to touch you. You never woke up at this though, too deep in sleep to even think that you were in danger. How they wanted to touch you, to caress your cheek and touch your soft skin. They wanted you badly, and they were starting to get needy.

One night, peeking in your window they saw you doing something new. The moon was empty, so it was the perfect night for Silence to watch you. They took their place outside your window and peeked in. They caught you how they’d always wanted to see you. Silence caught you with your pants down. Literally. You were sprawled on your bed, pants discarded on the floor as you pleased yourself. The night was dark, and your eyes were squeezed closed; you didn’t even think to close your curtains. No one would be looking. Or so you thought. Eyes shut from the world, you didn’t see the mask that stared at you from the corner of your window. They watched you carefully, feeling themselves become more aroused the longer their eyes stayed on you. You were perfect to them, everything about you was wonderful. Their legs squeezed together more as they watched you reach your climax. The way your body constricted, legs shuttering and shaking as you made yourself feel good. Silence knew they could make you feel better, that’s all they wanted to do right now. Their hand slipped into their pants, their breath hitching as they felt how sensitive they’d become. Your body relaxed as you came down from your orgasm, and Silence watched your chest deeply rise and fall. They wanted to hear you, they needed to hear your sounds even if it was just labored breathing. Fuck, they wanted you. They began to slowly get themself off. Their hand moved slowly, their eyes glued on you as you began your motions again. You didn’t even know their was someone getting off to the sight of you a short distance away. They didn’t look away as they unzipped their pants, letting them fall to their thighs. A soft moan slipped from behind their mask. You couldn’t hear it through the window. As your pleasure rose, Silence’s did too. They wanted to cum at the same time as you, they needed it. They pulled their mask off, the heat from their breath inside it causing their face to sweat. They swore under their breath, their hand speeding up as they watched you get closer and closer to your next climax. All they could think about was you. Your perfect body, that look of pleasure on your face that caused their knees to turn to jelly. You took up the entirely of their mind. How badly they wanted to come in there and make you cum by their own means. Next time, they told themself.

They watched your legs shake and shutter as another orgasm ripped through your body. At the same time, Silence brought themself to their edge. They groaned as they came, cum coating their fingers as pleasure spread through them. Their eyes never left you. They never wanted to leave you. They needed you. They were never going to let you go. They continued to get off with you through the night, orgasming at the same time as you every time. It made Silence feel closer to you. They watched as you finally started to clean yourself up. Disappointed that this has to come to an end, they pulled their pants back up and slipped their mask back on. They didn’t leave just yet.

You caught a glimpse of them in your window. Though, with the speed they disappeared, you thought your mind had just been playing tricks on you.

This was not the last you’d see of Silence.

[kit-williams]

Hell yeah

yeah no i agree man needs some loreplay for his fantasies

made to be a devotee

cw: lorgar jerking it. that’s it that is the plot. for @moodymisty

—

—

It is not the first time that Lorgar has taken himself in hand while thinking of you, and it will not be the last. Lying on his austere bed, staring at the ceiling — after pointedly turning the statues of the Emperor to face the wall — he strokes himself root to tip, his shaft thickening eagerly.

He does this not because he wants to, but because he must. You are a good woman — kind, clever, bright-eyed and curious, and you speak with him about his books in a way that so few dare — and he will not dishonour you with his lust. When the time is right, when the crusade is done, he will take you as his wife in the sight of the Emperor, and then — and only then — will he bed you. He allows himself a moment to dwell on the glorious future: Monarchia, resplendent in gold, its people rejoicing at their lord’s nuptials; you, clad in white, your belly already starting to swell with child —

His forehead furrows a little. No, that’s not right: you cannot be pregnant until after the wedding. After. He alters his daydream minutely. Now you wear a dress of shimmering bronze, your pregnant belly testament to the exertions of your wedding night. It is the — anniversary? Or it is a celebration of his Father’s latest victory? It matters not. The point is you, holding his wrist as you parade before your people; or you, straddling his lap that night, your skin painted gold in candle light. My lord husband, you will say.

He strokes himself again, harder, as the image shifts a little, memory replacing fantasy. The last time he saw you — the incident that prompted this latest shameful session — you had been in the library, a book open on your lap. You were hunched over it, in a Astartes-sized chair, the noontime sun catching in your hair. The very point of your pink tongue had snuck out, moistening your finger before you turned a page.

Lorgar had executed a speedy strategic retreat. If he had stayed — oh if he had stayed. Well. He would have seated himself in the armchair, arranged you on his lap — far more comfortable for you that way. He would have replaced your thumb with his, and let you suckle on it, your cheeks hollowing as you peered up to him. You would like the taste of his skin, he’s certain. “There. Good girl.”

You’d like being called good. You are always so keen for approval, so desperate to please. So keen. He’d sneak in another finger, maybe, letting your lips stretch around them, drool slipping down towards his knuckles. He’d fuck your throat with his fingers first — preparing you, letting you get used to him —

And it wouldn’t cause you any shame, Lorgar thinks, starting to fuck his fist in earnest. No shame, because it isn’t sex, is it? He would still be able to take you as a virgin bride, like you deserved, pure as the driven snow, untainted by his baser feelings. All he would do is let you suck his fingers, just a little. Work your mouth open on them. Feel your sweet, blunt teeth against his flesh. Maybe he would reach a little deeper — into the wet channel of your throat, until you hiccuped around his digits. He would try to pull his hand free, but you would take his wrist. Suck harder. Pleading wordlessly to let him continue. Wanting him to take his pleasure with you, to abuse your throat, because he is your Primarch, your lord, your master —

Lorgar’s breath catches. He grasps himself harder, hips rolling up.

He would decline of course. He couldn’t possibly. Would never. Could never. You’re too good for it, too pure, you’re worth more — but you wouldn’t care. You’d say you want him even if it means being his whore.

He would be powerless to resist as you knelt before him —

Lorgar pauses, opens his eyes. Looks over at one of his desk chairs and does a few mental calculations. You probably wouldn’t have to kneel — merely bend over a little. And yet — no, the visual of you kneeling is far too pleasing to let go of. He adjusts the height of the library chair. There: now you have to kneel before the chair with uncommonly long legs.

Where was he? Yes: you’re sucking at his head now, using both of your tiny hands to milk him onto your tongue. Greedy for him, even though you can barely swallow an inch of his prick. You spit on his cock, then look somewhat embarrassed at your boldness. He urges you on —

Lorgar can feel his orgasm building. He squeezes the base of his prick, letting the scene change again: he has his face buried in your cunt, your thighs bracketing his face as he licks deeper into you, your mewling cries almost insensible save his name: Lorgar, Lorgar. A victory cry, a hymn, a call to worship. Lor-gar please, Lord Lorgar please —

The image changes one more time, almost against his will. He’s spilling inside you, your body clinging to his prick, warm and welcoming and tight and home —

He cums so hard he sees stars, his seed splashing up onto his abdomen. Still hazy with climax, he wishes you were there to lick him clean. And then the rose-gold dozy feeling wanes away, and he is sticky and alone and ashamed.

Not yet. But soon. Soon, he shall have you where you belong: his bride, in his bed, and under him.

[basilsbestpainting]

Told my roommate that masterbation was my least favorite chore and it blew their mind. We still make passing jokes about it

[newfallstrangeleaves]

Yandere with a unknown identity

Exchanging information part 2

M!Yandere X F!Reader Warning: NSFW, masterbation. Summary: After the latest interaction with you he feels edged and in need desperat need of relief (release). You dont have to read part 1 but you can if you want to :)

After leaving your apartment the masked man ran to his car. It wasn't far but the block run was agony. He was still hard and things were rubbing the wrong way. So the first thing he does as he gets into the car is rip his mask off and then free his aching cock. His face flushed red and so the tip of his cock. All that stimulation just to not get any release is agony. 

The game had worked a little too well and now here he was panting and jerking himself off with the fresh image of you in his mind. How devine you looked and they way your body moved, it took everything in him not to rip his disguise to shreds and fuck you there on the couch. 

But he has to hold it in. Its too soon for his advances. Besides he can get used to seeing you like that.

But as of now he has to settle on jerking himself off here in the car. The build up comes quick and the release is breathtaking. He throws his head back and moans loudly as his hips jerk into his hand. When he calms down he looks down to find his cum dripping off the steering wheel and onto his pants. He can see some of it has landed on top of your slick. He smiles and takes two fingers to mix it together. Then he sighs contently. 

“Messy.” He mutters as brings his fingers to his lips. It tastes most of him but he can sense a hint of you there too. It's enough to get him worked up again. But tells himself to wait until he gets back home and with that he starts up the car. 

[angrelysimpping]

Eheh, here's Logan again =3=

Contents: solo male masturbation; i....think that's it?

The door was locked. The door was locked and nobody was home. No one would be home for a day or two, Logan left on his own. Still, he kept going over to the door, double checking, making sure it was locked, nerves jittering under his skin each time he thought to check. 

This would get him nowhere. He’d been…frustrated, for a lack of a better word. Normally he didn’t really get like this, but it’d been gnawing away at him all day. Made his fingers twitch, his skin prickle. It was dangerous, really. He spent so much of his time tinkering with volatile substances, he really couldn’t afford to get distracted like this. 

He had to do it. Logan had to do it. 

He checks the lock again, confirming for the nth time it was locked, before wedging his desk chair under the knob for extra measure. Satisfied, he shuffles over to his bed. 

God, he was so stupid for this. Being so paranoid just to jack off, setting down a fucking towel on his bed, the lube he'd stolen from the corner store on his nightstand between miscellaneous scraps of metal and a hello kitty pocket knife his cousin had given him. And then here he was, getting all in his head about everything when he’d been half hard for a good twenty minutes now, tears threatening to well up as he tries not to think for five seconds and just enjoy himself.

Logan shimmies out of his pants, letting them fall to the floor in a heap, and climbs into bed. He takes a moment to get comfortable, trying not to think too much about anything, before grabbing his phone and sliding on headphones. 

It didn’t take much, really. Just looking at the thumbnails got him to full mast. But, now came the mortifying ordeal of choosing something. 

Logan doesn’t look, clicking something at random and propping his phone on his nightstand before grabbing the lube. Squirting a generous amount into his hand before quickly grabbing his dick, he squeaks at the cold gel but doesn't let go, slowly pumping his shaft. 

As the porn progresses and the lube warms up, he lets his eyes drift closed, head tilting back to rest against the wall as he tries to lose himself. It works, for a bit. A low moan in his ear as he’s thumbing over his tip, free hand scraping over his chest before diving down to squeeze his balls. He doesn’t look at the screen, can barely stand the thought of seeing someone's eyes looking into the camera, looking at him, as he starts to pump his cock faster. 

“Let me ride you,” one of the actors murmurs, and Logan can’t help the small whine he lets out, eyes still squeezed shut as he nods his head as if agreeing to the act. 

He tries to mimic it, what he thinks being ridden would feel like, to have someone sit on his cock and fuck themselves on him like he was nothing more than a dildo. The thought makes his cheeks warm, cock twitching in his grip as pleasure pools in his gut. 

“Fuck me harder,” the actor whispers in Logan’s headphones and he’s fucking up into his fist before he can even think. He could cum like this, he could. Another high-pitched whine pulled from him as the pleasure in his gut builds, the telltale signs of his approaching orgasm tingling down his spine. 

But then the screaming starts. The loud, fake screams of ecstasy that rips Logan back into reality. 

He scrambles to click off the video, not bothering to check what he's switching to. 

It's a hentai. A succubus, a small succubus man, sucking off a human, the human's legs over the succubus' shoulders. 

Logan's cock twitches in his still hand. As if in a trance he starts stroking himself again, eyes glued to the screen. 

The scene hard cuts to the succubus fingering himself, and Logan's breathing becomes heavier. He's…never touched himself like that, but…it looks…nice. Like it'd feel good. Lube and precum coats Logan's cock, more than enough for him to gather some up, idly circling the rim of his asshole. 

He can't do it, can't push past the tight ring of muscles, face burning at the thought, but it still feels good. A feather-light pleasure that makes his heart race. 

Another hard cut, the succubus getting railed from behind, fisting his cock. Logan freezes, brain scrambling, trying to cast himself in one of the roles. Leaning over the succubus' back, moaning into his skin, unable to stop fucking forward even if he wanted to? Or the role of succubus, a chest pressed to his back, split open on a fat cock, a hand covering his own as he jerked off? 

His hips start to move on their own, fucking up into his hand and rocking down on his fingers. Trying to keep in time with the characters on screen, Logan quickly finds himself hurtling towards his end, thighs tensing, balls tightening. He knows he's being loud, moans and whines flowing freely as he chases his pleasure. He can't hear himself over the video, though, allowing Logan to keep going without overthinking a single thing. 

Finally, he cums, body trembling as semen coats his hand. Almost immediately he collapses back onto his bed, eyes shutting for the first time since the hentai started. For a moment, Logan’s brain is blissfully empty, thin chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, audio of the hentai still playing as his brain floats. 

Slowly, Logan starts to come back to himself. That had been….intense. Far more intense than any other time he’d touched himself. His brain is still moving at half speed as he props himself back up, grimacing at the dull ache in his back and thighs. That’ll hurt tomorrow, but, at the moment, it’s almost nice, the small reminder of how thoroughly he’s been satisfied. 

Logan tries to wipe back a few stray strands of blue hair that are stuck to his face with sweat, only to flinch as he inadvertently smears a mix of cum and lube across his cheek. Looking down at the mess he’s made of himself, Logan’s face burns. 

It was…definitely a good thing he’d put down a towel.

[kit-williams]

A modicum of kindness

DEGENERATES ALL OF YOU

Context: Moody's anon's fault for giving me the idea

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

tw: male masturbation, angst?

Why were you kind to him of all people?! Mortarion groused as he had left your presence just as quickly as he could. He could see it, hear it in your voice, smell it in your scent, you were scared of him. Unlike his brother Curze who relished in the fear he brought it was simply what being in the presence of someone like them caused in baselines.

You kept eye contact short... you tried your best to not tremble in fear... your voice wavering under his gaze... you practically wilted under him... and yet you were still kind to him. Your voice was soft... your words soothing... it felt like a balm to him to even in your timid state hear his name flow from your lips.

He didn't know you. You were a new face. New to him anyway... no one must have warned you to not try to be kind to him... to let his gaze cling for too long. The conversation was banal at best... inoffensive even just nothing important just something utterly mundane and still you chose him of all people to try and strike a conversation with. He hopes he wont see you again after what he is about to do. He doubts he could look you in the eyes.

Too many fucking layers he internally grouses as he strips free of everything his white hair clings to the sweat on the back of his neck growing long and annoying to manage... he doesn't let serfs touch him lest he crave that human touch more than he should be allowed to. Its why he doesn't want to see you again... he might crave more... the lingering desire to feel loving hands run through his hair... short nails against his scalp as someone helps him clean... would you say such kind words seeing his body?

He was far too pale... a deathly pallor about him as poison clung to his person as he ruined his lungs... for what. He bitterly seethes. He tightens the breather on his face as the problem between his legs wasn't going away and he walked over to his bed. He felt like a bastard... your only sin of being kind to him made him like some abused beast... eager for a gentle hand to caress him.

Mortarion would rather it be your gentle hands to caress him. He whines at the thoughts of what kind words you would still tell him as your soft body ground against his thigh... or would you rest between his legs... tongue licking his tip... would you still say kind words seeing what he wanted to put into you? What he wanted to do to your body? To ruin you for other men?

Mortarion... Why did you have to actually say his name? It fuels his mind running wild as he languidly strokes his length. That's what caused all of this... the fact you said his name... how he wanted to get you to say it again and again and again. Mortarion! As you slide down his shaft inch by inch... glazed over eyes as drool runs down your chin... just keep saying his name... tell him that you desire this mess of a body.

He fucks his hand harder than he would you as of course you would be scared to even be in the same room... much less actually bed the Primarch... Mortarion does his best to shut down his fantasies as the corners of his eyes burn with that shameful want... to not let them end to not face the reality of it all... that he was in his room pleasuring himself because some mortal said his name sweetly. No one told me you were handsome. He cums at the words you said so softly under your breath... if he was a mortal he wouldn't have heard but he did... he heard you admit that.

Mortarion hurries into the shower before the shame can set in. He just sits under the water like a beast left out in the rain as he feels the sting of shame in his eyes. He doesn't know if he can handle you being kind to him again... and yet he doesn't want to dissuade it... He breaths in the poisonous air as he figures he will never see you again... and you'll just be another pretty face to haunt his lonely nights in bed... another face to haunt him when he needs release... kind words to haunt his fantasies.

He very much hopes he doesn't see you again... because he knows... like a beaten dog he would be desperate to hear your kind words again.

[asphodelvamp]

tough fucking decision

[coquettexnightz]

- 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕 -

• Day 12; Somnophilia: Stalker Season, Norman Reedus.

• Day 13; Menophilia: Smell It A Mile Away, Marko ( The Lost Boys )

• Day 14; Incest: Bossy Big Brother, Michael Gray ( Peaky Blinders )

• Day 15; Noncon: Babysitter Terror, Billy Hargrove ( Stranger Things )

• Day 16; Public: Concert Special, Slash ( Guns N’ Roses )

• Day 17; Vore: Virgins Taste Best, Marko ( The Lost Boys )

• Day 18; Spanking: Specifically Told, Alfie Solomons ( The Peaky Blinders )

• Day 19; Uniform: Short Skirt, Tall Socks, John Shelby ( The Peaky Blinders )

• Day 20; Step Siblings: Deceiving Big Brother, Henry Bowers ( IT Chap. 1 )

• Day 21; Tickling: “Now, Go To Bed.”, Alfie Solomon’s ( The Peaky Blinders )

• Day 22; Masturbation: Morning Welcome, Aemond Targaryen ( The House Of The Dragon )

• Day 23; Deep Throating: To The Wall, Dave Mustaine ( Megadeth )

• Day 24; Taking Advantage: The Stupid Cheerleader, Axl Rose ( Guns N’ Roses )

• Day 25; Pregnancy: Growing Inside Right Now, Tom Riddle ( Harry Potter Franchise )

• Day 26; Grooming: Stolen Child, Alfie Solomons ( The Peaky Blinders )

• Day 27; S&M: Corruption From The Dirty Boy, Joaquin Phoenix

• Day 28; Cockbulge: Best Friends Little Sister, Sebastian Bach ( Skid Row )

• Day 29; Incest: Just Real Close S’all, Eyeball Chambers ( Stand By Me )

• Day 30; Free Use: Wake Up At Dark, Billy Idol

• Day 31; Incest & Breeding: Nighttime Lullaby, Arthur Shelby ( The Peaky Blinders )

A/n; I changed maybe two or three of the topics because I had no idea what to do with them and they also weren’t very appealing per-say.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Can you experience subdrop from just jerking off because I don't know how else to describe this post-nut self destructive feeling. I hate myself rn.

[braind3admutt]

Currently somewhat high, and highly (hehe) tempted to smoke some more.

Life's been a struggle, and the way weed just soothes my brain. Like stepping into a hot bath after an exhausting day, feeling how the warmth laps at your body and soothes the aches that have settled deep within your muscles. The soft white noise that scratches at my brain. How slow my thoughts come to me, like dripping syrup. How simple lined all my thoughts are, no anxieties or overthinking, just a straight simple line of thought that comes and goes like teasing touches.

It doesn't just affect my brain. It affects my body too.

I feel everything so much stronger. The light weight of my plain white tee-shirt laid on my bare chest, the shirt baggy enough to be breathable, but I know that soon I'll want to take it off. I tend to dislike wearing shirts when I'm high. Preferring to be nude from the hips up.

I can feel how the fabric of my shorts ghosts against the insides of my thighs as I move my legs, rocking them back and forth. My boxers are a bit more fitting compared to my other articles of clothes. The black fabric hugging my thighs, and feeling slightly sticky as it hugs the shape of my wet boy-cunt. Oh- I forgot to mention that fact didn't I? How wet smoking makes me. How I end up dripping with arousal. Feeling so empty, so tempted to slip my hand beneath my shorts and boxers to slide a couple of fingers inside of me. But I'm also so quick to become sensitive when I'm high. A few touches to my t-cock has me twitching and feeling like it's too much. It's too good. The pleasure just too intense that I unintentionally end up edging myself, over and over, and over. Stopping every time I feel myself on the edge. So close my thighs are shaking and my mouth fallen agap slightly as I pant out. I tease myself until I feel like I might cry. My hips moving on their own, and my legs kicking out and curling into my blankets as I continue to touch myself off and on.

Sigh. Weed is just so relaxing, ain't it?

[kinky-pen]

How do you feel about someone mindlessly stuffing themselves while drunk or high? Just getting lost in binging until they feel like they can't walk let alone stand from a daze of intoxication, a food coma, and arousal~ ....why do I want Kaoru to get fucked up like this

Oh, Kaoru would get so fucked up like this, and I love it. Enjoy some ranty story ideas below the cut, it gets a bit explicit.

So, we all know that the twins would partake of the "typical college experience", going to parties and drinking and even, yes, trying some weed. A social thing, for the most part, a way to get even more ingratiated with their new friends and acquaintances at this new place.

We also know that Kaoru gets anxious and overthinks constantly, so he actually really enjoys the mellow buzz of occasionally getting crossfaded on his and Hikaru's coach with a goofy movie playing in the background, alternating taking sips from whatever cocktail or other liqueur he fancied that day, along with puffs from the joint in the other hand.

He never has more than a bowl of popcorn and some crisps in front of him to start, but as the munchies set in, he just can't help himself from ordering anything his little heart desires. It was Haruhi's fault, after all, showing him all those apps he can order from and just letting him download them!

Fast food was bad, an absolute feast spread across several chains and several food delivery drivers getting it all to him in record time. Then came the cookies and cakes and savory snacks from the convenience stores. The menus on the apps even showed pictures, and it all looked so good. So tempting.

He just wanted it all, and the pleasant buzz rid him of thinking critically about it. It also rid him of the realisation, after digging into bag after bag, that - hey! He was getting really full.

But rather than feel kind of disgusted by himself for all of this, the sheer Dionysian decadence of the situation had him feeling more and more... aroused. Squirming in his seat, one hand rubbing over his stomach as the other continued to stuff his mouth with all the delicious pleasures that he'd ordered for himself, thighs squeezed together in an effort to put more friction against his throbbing, hard dick. Whining almost pathetically for the next bite, for more tummy rubs, more friction.

When his hand hits the bottom of the bag, despite the stab of disappointment at there being no more food, he frantically shoved his now free hand down his underwear, ignoring how tight his previously loose sweats are stretched across his heavily bloated belly.

Rubbing and stroking and pawing at himself, still desperately whimpering for more pleasure, more stimulation as a few hiccup-like burps escaped him from the sheer amount he stuffed himself. He cums very quickly, with drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, floating and slightly dizzy with all the sensations he's given himself in such a small amount of time.

Part of him feels like he should be ashamed of such debaucherous behavior.

A louder part of him insists on making this a common occurrence.

So, shall I write Kaoru like this again, dear reader?

[kit-williams]

Unintended thoughts

For @egrets-not-regrets and helping me with some background stuff I'm so thankful that smut is an acceptable currency here.

Tag list: @bispecsual @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

and always @squishyowl for the dividers

TW: Male Masterbation

For Erriox it was a purely mechanical need. And just a brief application of force and again a mechanical gesture and normally any unneeded arousal was taken care of. He huffed in annoyance as today that simple and quick method wasn't working for him. Lenora was gone for awhile which left him either taking care of his need or ignoring it.

Just some extra care as Lenora would put it... his calloused hand slick with lotion moves along his cock as he enjoys himself. No real fantasy coming to mind just the feeling of his hand around his own cock... feeling the rough tightness as he lazily pumps his cock through his fist.

He didn't mean to think about Lenora... at first he kept dismissing those thoughts... but just the way she says his name... the slight roll she does with the r's when she says his name a certain way. He closes his eyes as Erriox swallows gathering saliva trying to push the thoughts away.... Lenora was nothing but nice to him... had opened her home to him... and he wasn't going to... to... he groaned softly as he thought about the way her short nails feel against his scalp as she runs her fingers through his salt and pepper hair. Hearing her coo to him asking if he liked that... her nails being too short to catch the scalp scars he has in a painful way.

Curse his mind as it starts to stitch together what he knows about her... he knows how much she weighs and his fist around his cock starts to adjust... and his mouth feels dry yet he knows he is drooling. Lenora wasn't unattractive to Erriox... just he hardly looked at mortals that way... he remembers the sight as he doesn't care why she was jumping but his brain is hyperaware of the way her hair bounced about freely... but also the way her breasts moved under her clothes.

Erriox groans out loud as he lays back spreading his legs as he starts to buck his hips in earnest. The slick noise that his cock and hand together make are a poor substitution for what noise her wet sex would make. Her nails and her own calloused hands against his stomach as she bounces on his cock... the faint blush over her cheeks and breasts as Lenora pants doing her best to ride him. Erriox like most Iron Warriors was stocky so even her own muscled thighs would be spread wide, having to rely more on her hands to help push her up to properly ride him.

He wouldn't let her struggle for long... his hands wrapping around her thighs maybe moving to her ass as he bucks his hips up hearing her gasp loudly as she would stop moving just feeling him thrust deep into her core. "Lenora." Erriox moaned as he squeezed his cock but kept thrusting through it.

He would thrust hard enough for her to have to rest one arm under her breasts as perhaps he was thrusting in a way to cause them to bounce. She would moan his name... mewl it... pant it... it would fall from her lips again and again. Erriox grunts as his bed makes no noise, no betrayal of what he was doing.... "Be good for me and cum on my cock." He lets the words that were suppose to stay in his head slip from his lips.

He imagines she orgasams with his name on his lips... a gasp and Erriox squeezes his cock once more moaning her name as those hot ropes of cum shoot out; being so pent up it seems as some of it hits a scar on his left pectoral. Erriox laid on the bed feeling spent and relief but with some nagging guilt in his stomach and a new need... he cared about Lenora and felt guilty of using her as a source of pleasure but she now was the source of the new need.

Erriox simply hoped she wouldn't fall asleep against him any time soon. He finally got up to clean the mess he made.

[lil-miss-pitiful]

Do you think that maybe I masterbate a lot so I can feel better?