#wrong place at the wrong time 🫣

[chknbzkt]

Has Sonny ever attacked anyone of the group while fully feral? Or have they all been lucky so far?

If only luck was ever on Sonny’s side :)

Vanessa gets acquainted with Sun For Real

She’d heard him having a hard time changing and kinda… broke in under the assumption he was being murdered or something (odd why she was there, Sonny and Monday live a fair ways away from their neighbors… hmmm 🤔)

Maybe trespassing on an incredibly testy werecreature’s established safe space fresh off the harrowing ordeal of… Yeah, isn’t the wisest idea

On the specific day he misremembered what night it was and didn’t make it to the basement in time

Stabbing the guy with a shovel she took along just in case also didn’t help her case!!!

Thankfully Montgomery returned with groceries and stopped things from escalating, only for Sun to tear off and escape into the woods. That’ll be fun to explain

Nessie knew something was off about this town…

[his-cinnamon-goil]

I volunteer! 🙋🏼‍♀️

[goldenhypen]

nO YK WHAT I WANNA WRITE :’> a jake lovers 2 exes 2 lovers :’>

[shithowdy]

this is your periodic reminder that for all the artifacts and errors and "tells" one could possibly list, the only reliable way to actually determine if an image is ai generated is to investigate the source. it is becoming increasingly common for "fake classical paintings" to circulate around curative aesthetic blogs, and everyone should be using this as an opportunity to not only exercise their investigative skills but also appreciate art more in general. you're all checking out the artists you reblog, right? 🫣

so what are some signs to look for? let's use this very good example.

what a lovely late-impressionist piece blended with evocative leyendecker-esque themes! why haven't you ever heard of this artist before? surely tumblr would be all over an artist like this. who is justin brown?

your two options from here are to do a search for the name, or a reverse image search. i prefer reverse image searching, particularly when it comes to a common name like "justin brown". so what does that net?

Immediately, without looking at any text, something is wrong: it barely exists. an actual historical piece would turn up numerous results from websites individually discussing the piece, but no such discussions are taking place. Looking at the text, though, does show the source-- and at least in this case, the creator was honest about their medium.

But let's also look at the "exact matches", in case a source doesn't make itself apparent in the initial sidebar results like this.

This section will often tell you post dates of images, and here it can be seen that the very first iteration of the image was posted 15 days ago. It did not exist online prior to that.

Seeing how long an unsourced image has been floating around is a skill applicable to more than just generative images! See a cool image of an artifact or other intriguing item with a vivid caption? Reverse search it! If all the results are paired with that caption and only go back a few months, you might just have viral facebook spam.

Sometimes generative creators are dishonest about their medium and do not tag it like in the example, so that's when establishing "jpeg provenance" becomes important. While it can be a little trickier to determine if someone is using generative images and not admitting to it if they aren't trying to pass it off as a classic, something to consider is the age of their account and the frequency with which they post. Here are some account red flags:

-Did they only start posting art after 2022, or if they did before, did their style/skill level WILDLY change? Not gradual improvement-- I'm talking amateur graphite portraits straight into complex digital renders. Everyone starts somewhere, newness is not a red flag alone; it's newness combined with existing in a vacuum away from any community.

-Do they post fully-finished paintings several times a week? -Do many of these paintings seem iterative of a similar theme or subject matter ("three well-dressed young men face each other under shade and dappled sunlight")?

-Does their style change in inconsistent ways? An artist that can swap between painting like Drew Struzan and Hokusai should be pretty well known, right? Why is no one hyping this guy?!

-Do they have social media besides the source instagram? If so, what are they posting about? Are there any WIPs? Doodles? Interactions with other artists? Gallery dates? 3am self-doubt posts? Or is it all self-promo? Crypto? Seemingly nothing art-related at all for someone pushing out 3 weekly paintings?

Basically, if it's important to you to omit this stuff when you curate, please don't just smash reblog if the source doesn't seem to be the OP themselves. Seeking out sources was important even before this became an issue, now it is more than ever.

peace n love

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @vgilantee

A/N: Thank you so much for your commission! This was so fun to write, I hope you enjoy it! <3

Request: may i please get a big big werewolf and fem!reader fucking big nasty style 🫣🤭 feral, animalistic, and nasty. maybe after some predator/prey rp in the woods, but honestly free reign. go crazy ^^

“Don’t run”

Werewolf x fem!reader || size kink, predator/prey, chasing, biting, knotting, lowkey breeding

You had been living with your werewolf boyfriend for a couple weeks when the first full moon arrives. In the two years you’ve been together, he always made plans with his pack during the full moon, of that’s what he told you. Apparently he didn’t trust himself around you, so he barricaded himself in his basement and waited it out. He built a werewolf-proof cage and tied himself with some big metal chains to keep himself on check.

You are sure it wouldn’t be that bad, there’s no way he would hurt you, even with the full moon. Or maybe you were wrong.

Now, when he insists on you tying him up and leaving some of your clothes with him, you comply. He says your scent calms his beast, and that way it would be harder for him to escape. You two are so sure everything would be okay that you don’t double check the restrains. First mistake of the night.

You are lazily lying around upstairs when you hear the first crack. It sounds like thunder, but the night outside is clear, not a single cloud in the sky. You get down to the first floor and look around, nothing seems out of place, maybe some animal outside broke some tree or something. You don’t question it too deeply. Second mistake of the night.

When you heard another crack, this time a lot louder, you decide to go inspect the basement. You get to the door at the same time as he does.

The door is on the floor, completely broken, and his face is the one of a predator. Adrenaline and fear fuel your body as you move slowly to the door, feeling like the prey you just became. You two were so sure everything was going to be alright that you didn’t talk what to do if this happened. You are on your own, and he’s a full transformed werewolf looking at you like you are his next meal.Oh fuck.

“Don’t run,” he says, his voice too gravely, too deep, more monster than human. You breathe hard, looking between the door and him. He growls, a warning. But you were never the one to take good choices.

You know it’s not a good idea. You know it’s probably the worst idea ever, but you are scared and your heart is beating too fast and too loud for you to listen to whatever your brain is saying. You shouldn’t run, but your fear is louder than reason. You look at him, completely transformed, and turn on your heels, bolting for the forest.

You know you aren’t supposed to run away from a predator, but you do it either way. Probably the third mistake of the night and the one that condemns you.

You hear his howl behind you as you start to run, your body forcing itself to exhaustion really fast. But you don’t stop, you keep pushing yourself faster, trying to look for a place to hide. You can’t find any, but you are plenty aware that it wouldn’t matter. Once he catches you, he will be completely mad, feral. He will be too animalistic to understand who you are.

You ran and ran, your breathing fast and labored, taking too much of your already low energy. You don’t know what to do, where to go, you are lost in the forest and there’s a predator on your heels.

You can hear him behind you, following you, but not catching you just yet. He’s playing with you, he could catch you easily, you aren’t that fast or see that well in the dark. But he doesn’t want the fun to end, he’s enjoying the smell of your fear, the taste of your desire under it. He’s toying with you. He’s toying with his prey. And that makes your adrenaline to spike and your pussy to tingle.

Maybe you are a bit fucked up in the head, maybe you are enjoying it more than you should. You never knew you liked it a bit rough until you knew him, it shouldn’t be a surprise that you love him chasing you. You feel like red riding hood and he’s the wolf out to catch you… And that excites you.

You keep running as your pussy gets wetter. The noises and howls he makes behind you adding to the fire burning inside of you until you feel you were going to melt completely.

And then there’s silence…

Nothing around you, not a single sound apart from your breathing and rabbit-fast heart. And then you see a shadow in the corner of your eye. He throws you to the ground, face down, and covers your body with his. He’s so big and so heavy your breath escapes your lungs. You scream as he bites down on the side of your neck, right over your mating bond. He holds you down with his teeth as you struggle under him, unable to move more than a few millimeters.

He growls in warning and starts tearing your clothes. The air is cold against your heated skin, and his claws feel too sharp, but you can’t ignore the edge of pleasure as he touches your body. He doesn’t wait long, he licks at the new mark on your neck as he touches your soaking wet pussy, humming in contentment. He pinches your clit between his claws and you moan loudly, embarrassed that you make that unholy sound.

He pushes your head down with his other paw as you feel the tip of his dick against your pussy. He’s there for just a second before he’s all the way inside of you. He doesn't let you breathe, he fucks you like a piston, his dick caressing every part inside of you, so big he’s hitting your cervix as you scream with every thrust. The edge of pain is adding to your pleasure to the point of insanity.

You are drooling on the forest floor as a beast growls and fucks you raw. You don’t know how much of your boyfriend is aware of what it’s happening, of what he’s doing… He’s just a big monster and you are a hot hole to fill. In and out, in and out, the pace so fast and so savage that your body moves with his thrusts, your hands and knees getting scratched against the dirt. And you love it.

It feels depraved to be feeling so good being treated so roughly. But deep down you know your boyfriend is somewhere inside of the beast, there’s a part of him behind you. And a big part of him hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You reach down and touch your clit, rubbing frantically as he keeps fucking you. Your face is against the floor and your tongue tastes like grass, but the delicious friction of your fingers against your pussy make you see stars.

You feel your orgasm approaching as some of your juices gush around his dick. He stills for a second and then you feel the big engorgement at the base of his dick pushing against your stretched hole. You cry out as he pushed it in, zero caress, zero worries for your well-being, only the need to be inside of you. To breed you. And you are loving every single second of his feral side ravaging you.

His knot finally slips inside, stretching you so wide that it brings tears to your eyes as you orgasm once again. He doesn’t care what is happening with you, he keeps grinding his knot against your G-spot, milking his own pleasure and accidentally making yours ascend to the next plane. You orgasm again as he howls to the moon and fills you with rope after rope of warm come.

You feel every little twitch of his dick inside you as he keeps coming, and coming, and coming. And you keep gushing around him, completely spent. Your eyes are heavy and your body is limp, at his mercy. The last thought you have before you pass out is how dying like that would be a good way to go.

You wake up on a comfy bed with your werewolf boyfriend next to you. He’s back to human form, and your body feels like a big bruise. You wince when you try to face him and he grunts. “I told you not to run,” he tells you, worry written all over his face.

“I know…” You whisper, looking at him intensely. The images and pleasure from last night come back to you in waves, making you dizzy as you tell him: “I would do it again.” He smirks at you and kisses you until you forget all about the soreness of your body.

Remember that you can also commission me, info here

[bubblebellyrubs]

POV: You’re starting your day at work and everything is normal. Busy but that’s normal. Luckily today it’s just you in the office so there’s no one interrupting your productivity:

You need a little “pick me up” around lunch time. You look in the office kitchen and find what looks like a fun energy drink. It tastes amazing and you get a good boost of energy in minutes! So, you jump right back into work.

Another hour goes by and you feel funny. Almost like you’re a little heavier…you look down and notice it:

This doesn’t feel like normal bloating? I guess it’s a good thing it’s just me here or this might be embarrassing 🫣 oh well, you’ve got bigger fish to fry than a little bubble belly peeking out…

You try to ignore it and get your work finished. All while feeling that funny feeling. You try not to look down. You keep fighting your clothes to fit like they did this morning but your belly just KEEPS. GETTING. BIGGER. Rounder. Heavier.

You’re finally leaving to go home and your pants are so tight…well in the places they still cover. Your shirt has given up. Just when you think you can’t expand anymore, your growing round belly proves you wrong. The night is far from over….

[haylorinthewoods]

I’m just going to go out on a limb and say the only reason Harry and taylor haven’t gotten back is the timing. I actually think they both do something to each other that others can’t. There is this crazy attraction and mutual respect that she has with him and he has with her. He’s mesmerized by her in a way and I think she deep down has this draw to him.

He’s that guy in her life.. that she can’t help but like and even fall in love with. And I think they both know this and if their timing is right it would work but there’s so many factors with touring, and emotions, and who they are are celebrities and all the things that make this so hard and in consequence may never go back because of it.

In general I disagree. And I don’t have the time or patience to explain why.

[pyrodolls]

will you write more parts for the yandere!fan fic? 🫣

stalker! yandere boy x gn! popstar reader (part 2)

what if you had two different yanderes pining for you?

✰ warnings: stalking, mentions of murder, regular yandere tendencies, gender neutral reader

✰ a/n: damn that first part did a lot better than i thought it would, thank you guys! so how about i bring in a second yandere… i’m naming this yandere victor, and the yandere in the first part is bayani. (btw the art below is by RIP2_)

part one (with bayani) right here! a third part is coming soon, featuring both bayani and victor when they realize they both are pining for you...

stalker! yandere boy that puts in more effort than superfan! yandere boy to catch your attention. bayani could never love you. he can barely even handle you looking at him, what makes you think he’s the right one for you? he’s just a lowly coward. victor is the one for you. he loves you so much. more than bayani.

stalker! yandere boy that doesn't care about your music. not one bit. because he loves you for you! who cares what your music sounds like? he doesn't care what genre it is, or if you even have a good voice or not. he'd be the best boyfriend for you because he treats you like an actual human, not just some singing machine. besides, he personally prefers metal. maybe he can listen to it with you when you get together! it sounds like a delightful date.

stalker! yandere boy that follows you around wherever you go. he tracks your travelling patterns, and visits whatever places you visit at the exact same time. whether you fly private, commercial, or even use a train or car. doesn't matter. he will follow you. where you go, he goes.

stalker! yandere boy that would go as far as to disguise himself as someone else in order to interact with you and gain your attention. you go eat at a restaurant? victor would kill a random waiter, steal their uniform, and take their place. you stay at a hotel? he's posing as room service and will steal your clothes and belongings tidy up your room! he'll even use the key to your room to walk in and watch you sleep at night. you just look so enchanting in your sleep, how can he resist? it's not wrong, he's just keeping you safe. he is the only one that can make sure you are happy and healthy. in victor's eyes, even the strongest bodyguard cannot keep you safe. you don't need anyone else. just him.

stalker! yandere boy that tries to catch your attention anytime he can. he needs you to notice him. he needs you to say something to him, talk to him, touch him, know him, acknowledge his existence. victor needs you to validate his existence in order to continue living. without you, what would he do? he cannot handle being away from you. he cannot handle being alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. he needs you.

stalker! yandere boy that gets jealous easily. you collab with another artist or you're seen holding hands with someone in public? he's spreading a fake rumor about whoever it is and ruining their life. you shouldn't be so stupid. why associate with someone else when you have him? why ditch him for someone else? he's right there. he can be better than them. who cares what they look or sound like? victor's so much better. he can show you how much better he is, if you give him a chance.

stalker! yandere boy that is so desperate for any kind of attention from you. it doesn't matter if it's positive or negative attention. he always plays it cool and acts all smug and calm when you notice him, but on the inside he is resisting the urge to grab you and run away from the world. all he wants is to have a peaceful, isolated life with you. away from the disgusting people in the world. you and victor can be happy together.

stalker! yandere boy that is incredibly clingy. you know you need him, right? he must be near you at all times. his presence keeps you alive and happy. you keep HIM happy. he needs you. you both need each other. if he can't see or feel your presence, he will go insane. that is why he travels anywhere you go. that is why he must go to each and every one of your concerts and meet-and-greets. you assumed he was just a big fan to be at every single event, but you just can't see that he loves you much more than just some fan.

stalker! yandere boy that just wants to be with you! let him be around you. let him completely obsess over you, touch you, love you, do whatever he wants to you. he won't hurt you! he just wants a little bit of freedom to say and do whatever he wants to you once you are together, so he can make sure you don't leave him. he will make you feel so good, so loved, so appreciated. nobody will ever love you more than he does.

but there may be someone that rivals his affections. a lowly, masochistic, scrawny pest that thinks he loves you more. victor will have to do something about it before your little superfan finally decides to man up and make a move on you.

[loveanddeepdick]

sweetheart

obsessed!pervy!roommate!geto x f!reader

cw: roommates with tension to lovers, pervert geto, he’s kinda insane lol.., tracking, obsession, piv sex, kinda angry sex, creampie, possessiveness, panty stealing/sniffing/licking, NOT PROOFREAD IM JUST HORNNNYYY 😜😜

notes:part of my obsessed!geto series hehe, not completely the same as my hcs, but it kinda just combines all of them as best as i can 🫣

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“care to explain, suguru?”

you were holding up three pairs of your panties, dangling it in the air in front of geto as he’s standing in the doorway of his room.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d moved in with geto nearly three months ago. you thought it was too good to be true, the rent was a little too cheap and the apartment looked somehow nicer in person. you knew suguru, he was close friends with satoru who’d been nothing but kind to you your whole time in high school and now in college as well.

suguru’s aura seemingly changed after the first month of you two living with eachother. you felt his eerie, purple eyes boring into your space and your eyes. you felt the air around you almost tense up when you mentioned guys. it was like he was gripping your soul sometimes.

of course, he knew you were looking back at him as well. when he got out of the shower and his towel was clinging onto his abs. maybe even when he came back from the gym and untied his slicked back hair while his black locks fell onto his muscular shoulders.

one night on your birthday when you both came back from your birthday dinner, he’d given you a special present, a small heart locket. he held his breath as he stood behind you, clicking it into place as he watched how every hair fell from its root in your scalp, how smooth your nape was, how your delicate hand held your hair out of the way.

he had hid a small, unnoticeable tracker inside the locker, tucked away in small details carved into the heart. the way you were carved into his.

he was whipped for you

however, naive of the deeper issues that were lying under your nose, for the past few weeks, you noticed that your underwear had been going missing at a concerning rate. it’d gone from reasonable to unexplainable and it pissed you off. honestly, you wouldn’t have even expected it was geto until he slipped two days ago.

you’d been running around the apartment, checking under tables and in drawers for your missing undergarments that you set out on your bed as you prepared a bath. you groaned before calling out for him

“sugu, have you seen my underwear?” you yelled while pacing the living room, hoping he’d hear you from his room.

“no, i dont even go near your bed”

you huffed, turning away before taking out an old one from the bottom of your underwear drawer until it hit you.

how would he know it was on your bed if he didn’t go in?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

there you were, snooping through his closet when you found exactly what you were looking for, your missing panties. you picked up a fraction what was hidden away in his closet and called out for him while you held them up. he came quickly, stopping at his doorframe as he watched you with the stolen undergarments.

you knew he wasn’t stupid, i mean, he had kept it going for so long. maybe he let it slip on purpose , maybe he wanted you to catch him.

“shiiit, looks like your laundry got in the wrong room,” he chuckled, wiping the shocked expression off his face before stepping into the room, “lemme put that in the laundry basket for y—“

“hell no!”, you shrieked, pulling your panties away, “you’re the reason why they’ve gone missing!”

geto bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and throwing his hands up, “you think they just grew legs? yes, it was me. think about it, sweetheart, who else would it be? the boogeyman?”

your jaw dropped at his words while he quietly laughed at his own joke. he’s perverted and corny. you hadn’t expected such a straightforward response from him. did this man have no shame? he stared at you while you were trying to find the words.

“cat got your tongue? i like you, sweetheart,” he lowered his hands as he grinned, his eyes traveling to the little locket he gifted you, “hope you’re not mad at me, i mean, i’ve seen your browser history, m’not the only person with some fucked up kinks—“

you threw your panties to the side before walking up to him. fuck it. grabbing him by his plain black shirt, you pulled him down and crashed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips, leaning into you before you pushed him away again.

“you asshole! you’re so weird, stealing my underwear when you could’ve just opened pornhub,” you huffed, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve.

“running away so soon?” he smiled as you turned away. you wished you could punch him in the mouth.

“yes.” you flatly stated as you try to push past him. he caught your wrist, pulling you back into his chest as he wraps his arms around your torso.

“don’t go, sweetheart. i know you want me,” he leaned in, taking a short sniff of your hair before he rested his chin on your head.

“i don’t want—“

“then pull away. i’ll stop everything, leaving you alone, and pretend nothing happened,” he mumbled, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders. his eyes bore into your face as your eyes wandered elsewhere, ignoring his gaze.

“use your words, baby,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup your face as you unconsciously lean into him.

“i-i do..” you admit, looking down in shame.

“aww, baby, s’okay..” he chuckled, bringing you back into his arms as he squeezed you, “i know, i know.. don’t be embarrassed, i’m sorry for taking your panties,”

it felt like he was babying you but you couldn’t help but reciprocate his actions, slowly returning the embrace. you look back up to him, his eyes already on you as you go on your tippy-toes, capturing his lips.

“i want you, sugu”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto wastes no time, throwing you gently onto the bed as tugs your pajama shorts off, prying your legs open as he smiles as the small damp spot on your panties. embarassed, you try closing your legs but he keeps them open, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance.

he dips his head in, pressing his nose up against your little clit, rubbing it a little as you whimper. he sharply inhales, whining from your scent before his tongue darts out to taste your slick on your panties.

“s-sugu!” you yelp, jolting from the feeling of his tongue and how shameless geto was being

“shh, shh, jus lemme do it,” he whispered, his tongue darting back out to lick back and forth from your clit to your clothed pussy. he pulled back finally, to admire how sheer your little panties had gotten before he pressed his nose in one last time, whining as he inhaled the mess he caused.

he stood back up, gesturing for you to sit up on the edge of the bed, guiding your hand to his crotch. you look up at him for approval before he nods, your hand cupping his erection before unzipping it, his black boxers doing nothing to hide his huge cock.

there was a small trail of black hair making your mouth water, a stairway to heaven, or maybe hell. you cautiously pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out as his tip slapped against his tummy.

geto hissed as his cock finally spring free, watching you wrap your hand around it. he couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d been fantasizing about this for weeks, seeing his little roommate beneath him, seeing you finally accept him in.

the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock, he couldn’t do it anymore. he already felt like he was going to cum in your mouth and he’d be damned if his first time in you wasn’t in your little pussy.

pushing you down again on the bed, he yanked your panties off, giving your clit a small spank as you gasped.

“please, sweetheart, lemme cum in your pussy first. we can do whatever you want after,” he whined, pumping his cock as he lined himself up to your wet pussy.

you nodded frantically, reaching down to the bottom of his abs and trailing to his neatly cut pines above his cock. he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he pushed inside you.

“f-fuck.. yes, baby, fuck, i’ve been wanting this for so l-long..” he groaned, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet heat.

“be—shit! be quiet suguru.. just fuck me!” you cried

his head snapped up, his cock hardening impossibly more as he moved his hips, suguru’s girthy cock pushing all the way up and kissing your cervix. he loved you this way. being able to submit yet put him in his place, he loved you.

“fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good!” suguru’s head dipped down, his eyes widening almost maniacally as he watches his special necklace bouncing in tandem with your tits.

he reached down, running his hands over your chest and the necklace as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. suguru moved his hand down, running your clit with his thumb as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy over and over again, making a translucent white ring of juices form around the base of his cock.

his tip was dragging over your g-spot in an almost euphoric way as he groaned profanities in your ear. he ran his tongue along your collarbone, licking up to his neck to leave marks on your neck.

“say it, sweetheart, say you’re mine” he pleads with you, his eyes furrowing as he grabs your face gently, making you look at him.

“i’m yours, sugu..” you mumble, drunk on his cock as your drool on his hand.

“use your big girl voice, baby, ‘can’t hear you”

“i’m yours! all yours!” you cry, “f-fuck, sugu i’m gonna cum!”

his pace quickens, continuing to hit your g-spot until all you could see was white.

“cum for me, sweetheart, cum all over my cock.. fuck!”

you unravel on his cock, squirting all over his cock, making him cum as well. his cock shot warm ropes of cum deep into your sweet pussy as he paused, not pulling out just yet. he leaned back, admiring you as he rubbed your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm before giving your tits a small spank as well.

“good girl, good fuckin girl.. you’re all mine now, sweetheart”

[leahwllmsn]

you’re still the one

alexia putellas x reader

back with my fave trope. exes to lovers (sort of). 🫣

“Hey, stranger.”

Alexia almost dropped the plate she was holding at the sound of your voice.

It was her family’s monthly get-together, this time held at her uncle’s place an hour away from Barcelona.

You shouldn’t be here. Not after the breakup.

Alexia eventually turned around, she had to, even though having you within arm’s length made her want to run back inside. She missed you. She hated that it now hurt to look at you when it used to be her most favourite thing to do.

“What are you doing here?” Alexia didn’t mean to sound harsh, she was just caught off guard.

You immediately looked away. Alexia didn’t miss the glimpse of hurt in your eyes though. She almost mumbled an apology but refrained herself.

You two were broken up then you showed up out of nowhere to Alexia’s family event. She figured she had every right to be confused.

“Alba invited me,” you replied.

Alexia frowned. Her sister had no right. Just because you were a part of the family for years didn’t mean it was still the case.

“Sorry,” your shoulders hung low, you were regretting this. “I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. I know now that it definitely isn’t a good idea.”

Alexia didn’t say anything else. When she used to have so much to say to you, she now had to scramble her brain to find a single word worth mentioning.

“I’ll leave you to it—”

“Ale!”

Alexia froze at the mention of her name. You did too.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring someone new to her family events. Alexia wasn’t even dating Jenni. But it felt weird—it felt wrong—to bring anyone else but you.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” Jenni appeared next to Alexia. You were looking at the pair with pain written all over your face and Alexia really hated where this was going. “Oh, Y/N, hi.”

You were broken up for 6 months. That was half a year. Alexia was allowed to move on (she hadn’t moved on).

Jenni was a friend. She shouldn’t feel guilty for bringing a friend here.

“Hola,” you finally found the courage to speak. “Are you two together now?”

Alexia’s jaw went slack. You were always so forward.

“Congrats, I guess,” you were trying not to cry, Alexia knew this because she knew you. She had known you ever since you were little and she had all your ticks memorized. “Always knew you two would be a good match.”

Jenni immediately shook her head, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on your forearm. “No, no. Alexia and I are just friends. I promise.”

You looked unconvinced and Alexia had a rush of bravery wash over her. “I’m single!”

Alexia cringed at that. Why did she say that?

But gone was the broken look on your face, replaced with one of amusement. Alexia silently let out a breath of relief.

You mumbled a brief apology to Jenni for jumping to conclusions.

“No worries,” Jenni shrugged, a relieved look on her face at how the tension in your shoulders had lifted. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

You were about to ask Jenni to not leave you alone with Alexia but the girl basically sprinted across the backyard.

“Do you want some iced tea?”

You were taken aback at the change in subject. “What?”

“It’s so hot out here. Iced tea sounds good, no?”

Alexia didn’t know what she was doing. She was confused and heartbroken over you minutes ago, but now all she wanted to do was soothe the ache in her heart. She knew the only way to do so was to mend things with you.

You were her greatest love, after all.

You looked skeptical, but then you slowly nodded at her. “Sure, iced tea sounds good.”

Alexia smiled at you, the first genuine smile she had in months.

Eli once told her that if you two were meant to be, you’d come back to her.

And unexpectedly, here you were.

“So you’re an Olympian now huh?”

[pumpkin-writes]

— ୨୧ kinktober day 12

pairing: old man!logan howlett x reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw ( obv ) established relationship, age gap ( logan is, well, he's logan & reader is in their mid 20s ) daddy kink, lap sitting, jealous!logan, petnames ( bub, princess, good girl, sweetheart, baby ) fingering, hair pulling, dirty talking, multiple orgasms, unprotected vaginal sex & logan comes inside of the reader ( don't be dumb ) not proof-read, just absolute filth below the cut

word count: 2.7 k

notes: i really liked enjoyed writing this, so don't be surprised if you see more old logan from me in the future 🫣 this was the longest kinktober fic i've written so far & also the first one so far that i've had ready to post on time lol hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did <3

the evening had gone perfectly. you and logan had gone to a quiet dinner at a place he liked—nothing fancy, just the kind of spot with dim lighting, rustic wood tables, and good whiskey. you loved how he looked tonight, sure he was much older than other guys you'd been with, but he was still ruggedly handsome. his beard was streaked with silver, his hair tousled in that familiar wild way, and he wore a dark button-up shirt that stretched across his broad chest. but he had been quieter than usual on the way home, brooding, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. you knew something was up. it wasn’t like him to stay this quiet, especially after a night out with you. he pulled the truck into the driveway, cutting the engine and letting the silence between you hang there for a moment before stepping out. you followed him into the house, the door clicking shut behind you as he tossed his keys on the table. his silence continued as he walked into the living room, taking off his jacket and running a hand through his hair, still looking a bit stiff.

"logan," you started softly, setting your purse down and stepping closer to him, your heels tapping lightly on the floor. "what’s wrong?" he paused, standing by the window, staring out at the night. his back was tense, muscles rigid under his shirt, the years weighing heavily on his broad shoulders. when he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than usual. "that kid at the restaurant," he muttered, almost too low to hear. "he couldn’t take his damn eyes off you." you blinked, surprised, before a soft smile curled at your lips. so that’s what had been bothering him. his jaw clenched, the muscles tightening. "he was lookin' at you like… like he had a chance or somethin'. made me wanna break his damn neck." there it was—his possessiveness, that fierce, animalistic side that sometimes surfaced when he thought someone was threatening what was his. you stepped closer, your fingers brushing over his arm. "lo," you cooed, your tone light, teasing. "are you seriously jealous?" he gently turned to look down at you, his dark eyes still stormy, but there was a flicker of mischief behind them, his heart skipping a beat a the familiar nickname.

"i ain’t young anymore, bub," logan sighed, sitting down heavily on the worn leather couch, his usual brooding expression softening just slightly as he leaned back, the tension still lingering in his gaze. you could feel it—his insecurity still nagging at him, even though you’d tried to brush it off. that younger guy at the restaurant had really gotten under his skin. but you weren’t going to let him sulk. without saying a word, you stepped closer, standing between his legs as he looked up at you, the creases in his weathered face deepening. his brows knit together, as if he didn’t quite know what you were up to. you reached down, your fingers gently brushing through his hair, the silver strands catching the light. "hey," you murmured, voice soft and warm, "stop thinking so much." then, with a slow smile, you shifted forward, sliding onto his lap, straddling him. his hands instinctively moved to your waist, his grip firm, holding you in place as if he needed to keep you close. you felt his body stiffen beneath you for a second, but then he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. "what're you doing, princess?" he questioned softly, though his hands stayed exactly where they were, fingers splayed against your hips. "tryin’ to make me feel better?"

you tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful smile as you leaned in closer, your chest brushing against his. "maybe," you teased, brushing your fingers down his jaw, the roughness of his scruff making you tingle. "or maybe i just like sitting here." logan grunted, his eyes narrowing at you, though you could see the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "you like sittin’ on an old man’s lap, huh?" you laughed, a soft, sultry sound, and leaned in closer so your lips were near his ear. "i like sitting on your lap, daddy." that got his attention. his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you a little closer, his breath hitching just slightly. his eyes darkened as he looked up at you, that familiar hunger flickering beneath the surface. "god damn, you drive me crazy," you smirked, brushing a light kiss against his neck, feeling the way his pulse quickened under your lips. your kiss incited a low growl from the older man, his calloused hands sliding up your sides, pulling you closer against him. his lips found yours in a rough, heated kiss, the earlier jealousy now burning away in the intensity between you. his hands moved possessively down your back and up your skirt, his fingers quickly finding the hem of your panties and hooking around them to pull them down your thighs. he pulled back from your kiss for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and ragged. "so fuckin' wet for daddy already, huh?" he muttered, his voice deep and gravelly. his words sent a jolt of desire straight to your core, and you bit back a moan as your hips rocked subtly against him, seeking more friction, more heat. you could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your center, and you ground down, relishing the sensation of being filled and wanted so thoroughly. "fuck, logan," you breathed, your hands roaming over his chest, as his fingers delved deeper, stroking through your slick folds and circling your clit with maddening precision.

a low, guttural groan rumbled in logan's throat as your hips undulated against him, your wet heat coating his fingers. his own arousal throbbed in response, straining against the confines of his slacks. he captured your mouth in another searing kiss, swallowing your breathy moans as he worked two long digits inside you, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot within. "gonna make you forget all about that pretty boy at the restaurant," he rasped against your lips, pumping his fingers slowly, steadily, driving you higher with each thrust. his thumb rubbed relentless circles around your clit, the pressure building to a crescendo. "this pussy belongs to me, understand? no one else gets to touch you like this." withdrawing his fingers, he brought them to his mouth, sucking your essence off with a low, appreciative hum. his other hand slid up your back, tangling in your hair and tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. he leaned in, dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin before grazing his teeth over your racing pulse. he punctuated his claim with a sharp thrust of his fingers, burying them back deep inside you.

a shudder ran through you at his possessive words, your walls fluttering around his invading fingers as he stroked you deeper, harder. "yes, daddy," you gasped out, arching into his touch as his laved attention on your neck. "only you. always you." your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, nails digging in as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. the rough drag of his stubble against your sensitized skin only added to the sensations overwhelming you. "please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. you just needed…more. logan growled low in his throat, pleased by your wanton submission. his grip tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he continued his sensual assault on your neck. sharp teeth scraped over your racing pulse before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "good girl," he praised roughly, fingers pumping faster, harder, driving you towards the edge. his free hand slid under your shirt, calloused palm skimming over the soft swell of your breast before he palmed the weight fully. he rolled your nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging, feeling you tightening around him. hearing the needy little sounds spilling from your lips stoked his own desire to dizzying heights. he wanted to feel you come apart on his fingers, watch you shatter completely before fucking you. "that's it, sweetheart," he crooned, his voice a dark rumble against your skin. "let go for daddy. wanna feel this sweet cunt squeeze my fingers when you come."

your body jerked, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat as he tweaked your nipple. you were teetering on the brink, every stroke of his fingers, every pinch and tug of his hand on your breast pushing you closer to the edge. "logan!" you cried out, unable to contain the plea as you felt the first waves of orgasm crashing over you. you clenched rhythmically around his pistoning fingers, milking them for all they were worth as you rode out the intense climax. stars burst behind your eyelids, and you bucked wildly against him, lost in the throes of ecstasy. it seemed to last an eternity, each aftershock leaving you trembling and gasping for air, and logan was loving every second of it. he watched intently as you came undone and held you steady, fingers still buried deep inside you, riding out the waves of your orgasm with you. the sight and feel of you falling apart on his hand was almost too much, and he had to bite back a groan of his own desire. once the tremors subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips once more. savoring your flavor, he hummed in approval. "fuck, bub, that was beautiful," he chuckled, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead. his gaze dropped to your breasts, still heaving with ragged breaths, and his cock gave an impatient twitch in his pants. "but we're far from done here, sweetheart."

as the final tremors faded away, you slumped bonelessly against him, utterly spent. his words met with the predatory gleam in his eyes told you there would be no rest for the wicked tonight. a thrill raced down your spine at the thought, and you licked your lips, "is that so?" you purred, reaching down to palm the thick ridge tenting his pants. "well, i'm not finished with you yet either, daddy." you deftly unfastened his belt and zipper, freeing his impressive erection from its confines. wrapping your fingers around his shaft, you gave him a slow, teasing stroke from base to tip, marveling at how he twitched eagerly in your grasp. a harsh exhale escaped logan's lips at the warmth and gentle pressure of your touch, making him throb with need. he watched, transfixed, as you pumped him slowly, reveling in the sight of your delicate fingers encircling his thick girth. his hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more of your touch as you worked him over. he could feel the precum beading at the tip, and it took every ounce of willpower not to grind against your palm. "keep touching me like that and this will be over before it starts," he warned gruffly, his large hands gripping your waist, effortlessly lifting you off his lap and turning you around to face away from him. with a swift tug, he pulled your skirt and panties off entirely, baring your glistening sex to his hungry gaze. he nudged your legs further apart with his knees, settling himself between your spread thighs. the blunt head of his cock prodded at your entrance, swirling your arousal around.

a gasp left your lips as he spun you around, your heart pounding in anticipation. his dominant stance, the way he filled the space between your thighs, sent a rush of excitement coursing through you. you arched your back, pressing your ass against his groin, silently urging him to take what he wanted. the head of his dick teased your slick, and you couldn't help but rock your hips, trying to coax him inside. "please, daddy," you slightly panted, voice heavy with need. your pathetic pleads incited a guttural growl from logan, the sound vibrating against your back as he notched the broad crown of his cock at your entrance. he paused for a moment, savoring the heat radiating from your core, before surging forward with one powerful thrust. he buried himself to the hilt in one smooth motion, a low moan rumbling in his chest at the tight, wet clasp of your cunt around him. he stayed still for a beat, relishing the sensation of being sheathed so deeply within you, before beginning to move. logan set a relentless pace, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, the force of his strokes rocking you both. the lewd slap of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his grunts of effort. your moans turned to screams of delight as he pounded into you mercilessly, the sheer force of his thrusts driving the air from your lungs. the thick, hard length of his dick stretched and filled you completely, hitting all the right spots with each brutal plunge. your nails dug into the worn leather of the couch as you struggled to keep up with his relentless rhythm, your hips bucking wildly to meet his every stroke. the pleasure was overwhelming, bordering on pain, and you reveled in it, surrendering yourself fully to the primal, animalistic act unfolding behind you. "oh my god, logannnn," you wailed, your voice hoarse and desperate, as if begging for mercy even as you craved more of his punishing thrusts. logan's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he drove into you with increasing ferocity. he could feel the telltale flutter of your walls tightening around him, signaling your impending climax. he doubled his efforts, fucking you with abandon, chasing your release and his own. the obscene sounds of your coupling filled the air—the slick squelch of your arousal easing his way, the smack of his pelvis colliding with your ass as it bounced back onto him, your shameless cries and his guttural snarls intermingling in a symphony of debauchery. he leaned over you, one arm banding around your waist while the other slid up to cup your breast roughly, pinching and rolling the stiff peak between his fingers. "come for daddy, baby," he rasped in your ear, nipping sharply at the lobe.

and just like that, your body began to quake and convulse, overwhelmed by the intensity of his assault and the demand in his voice. the coil of tension deep within you snapped, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your veins. a strangled cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, your muscles clamping down on him like a vice. waves of pure bliss washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in the aftermath. through it all, logan continued to pound into you, prolonging your climax until you were sobbing and mewling, lost to the world except for the feeling of him splitting you open again and again. his hips stuttered, losing their rhythm as your velvety walls spasmed around him, milking his cock for all it was worth. he threw his head back with a guttural groan, the tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief as he found his own release. he ground against you, working himself through the aftershocks. only when he was spent did he collapse against your back, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he fought to catch his breath. he peppered your shoulder blades with lazy kisses, murmuring words of praise and adoration against your sweat-slick skin. "that was… incredible", he was out of breath, his voice roughened by exertion. as the fog of post-orgasmic haze slowly lifted, you felt a warm sense of satisfaction wash over you. you slowly turned back around to face him and your eyes locked, a tender smile playing on your lips as you gazed at him. "yeah, not bad for an old man," you teasingly downplayed the state of euphoria he'd been able to put you into so easily, thinking back to how this all began. if that didn't reassure him that your eyes were only for him, despite your age gap, you didn't know what would.

[eddiesghxst]

small blurb of best friend!reader spending the night at eddies and while theyre brushing their teeth getting ready for bed (shes in a tank top n panties) he notices that she doesnt have a gag reflex🫣

oh he’d go fucking nuts🤭

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

Eddie feels like a perv for doing this. He feels guilty and shameful and all things wrong for doing this, but he can’t help it—- any moral thinking was wiped away when all the blood in his head rushed to his dick.

It was stupid, really. You and Eddie were just brushing your teeth, like any normal humans before bed. Except you were wearing that flimsy little tank top that hardly even covers anything, and Eddie… well Eddie’s not a god, of course he was looking at your tits.

They’re perfect, hard nipples pressed against the thin material of your top, a sinful jiggle waving through them as you gently work your toothbrush over your teeth. Eddie was mesmerized.

And that was fine—- Eddie’s half hard dick could be calmed with a few boner-killing thoughts, no problem.

Except all hope of bidding away his clear arousal flew out the window the second you brushed your tongue and pushed your toothbrush so far back that Eddie expected to hear a gag, but surprisingly didn’t hear a single sound of struggle. And as if you having no gag reflex wasn’t enough, you had to lean over the sink, spit out the white paste, and happily hum as you did it.

Eddie thinks he blacked out after that, because the next thing he remembers is his fist tightly pumping his aching cock like his life depended on it.

After you finished he made some lazy excuse about needing to take a leak and locked the door behind you before hastily shoving his sweats down. The second Eddie pushed down the waistband of his sweats to release his cock, he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

Eddie hasn’t been this hard in a while, pulsing and throbbing and begging for release as he wraps his hand around his tip and starts stroking. His eyes flutter shut, jaw dropping as he leans forward to press a hand against the blank wall of the bathroom. He mutters a curse to himself, shut eyes squeezing in pleasure as he thinks about the sinful act you’d just put on for him.

He imagines you atop of him, weepy cunt swallowing him whole as you bounce on his cock, pretty tits moving with each sway. He imagines reaching up and gathering your tits in each of his hands, squeezing them to watch the way your soft skin gives way beneath his fingertips, molding against his touch like they were made for him.

He lets a moan slip before placing his knuckles between his teeth, shakily breathing as he quickens his strokes. It’s been less than five minutes and he’s pathetically close, but he doesn’t care.

He imagines you clambering off his lap to drop on your knees between his legs, wasting no time to wrap your lips around his cock and take him all the way to the back of your throat. He shivers when he replays the memory of you practically deep throating your toothbrush, pink tongue tauntingly on display.

He imagines pulling out of your mouth to tap his sticky tip against the thick of your tongue, and he imagines you would sinfully hum the way you did when you spit out your toothpaste.

He’s on the brink of cumming when you knock, a worried tone bracing your voice as you speak up, “Eddie? Everything okay?”

And the second Eddie opens his mouth to answer, he cums. Sticky white ropes of cum spurt from the sensitive red tip of his cock, coating his knuckles and messily dripping onto the floor. “Y-yeah I’m—- fuck.” he throbs beneath his touch, legs threatening to give out beneath the weight of his pleasure.

His breath is bated and shaky, wide eyes watching as more cum spills with each aching throb. He glances at the doorway and curses when he still sees your shadow beneath the door. He looks back at his cock and curses because the white sticky substance just won’t stop dribbling from his cock. “Uh—- I’m good. I’m fine.”

He hears you leave and he shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against the cool wall before him as he gives his cock a few more lazy strokes. He braves one last glance at his cock as he finally finishes off and he lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief.

He’s not sure how he’s gonna be able to look you in the eyes after this.

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 . . . | 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏 |

oscar piastri x fem!reader

plot. your sexual frustration is humiliatingly evident when oscar lets you sit on his lap

wc. 2.2k

warnings. smut 18+, thigh riding, innocent!reader, praise kink, purity rings, osc has a major corruption kink & refers to himself as god (sorry🫣), manhandling, swearing, allusions to heaven, and religious symbolism

A time when the gifted silver band wasn’t laced around your ring finger is not one you remember clearly. At the ripe age of twelve, with a face adorned with baby-like features and an ever-present aura of giddiness, your father had gently placed the circle on your overstretched hand.

“It’s a promise for abstinence,” he’d responded to your furrowed brows, but the foreign word had only deepened your confusion. “Look—here, it says, ‘I will wait for my beloved’. And you will, won’t you?”

Even now, despite his absence, you find yourself nodding at the slightly threatening question as your right hand fiddles with the thin loop. Boredom eating at your mind, your eyes shift to the figure occupying your chair; a smile slowly creeps onto your lips.

Oscar, a man of stubborn chestnut hair and constellations of moles embellishing his toned frame. The gleaming screen of the rectangle illuminates his face harshly, likely stinging his eyes as they dart across his unanswered emails.

A sigh leaves your lips. You fall pliant on your bed, unraveling the tight knots in your shoulders with a roll of your arms and an arch of your spine—an obnoxiously loud noise (a little whiny, in Oscar’s opinion) echoes along the room.

“You need anythin’, baby?” Oscar mumbles, mindlessly tapping at his keyboard.

With an exasperated huff, you lift yourself to sit upright and lean on your arm, your head lolling lazily to the side. Oscar perks up. He rips his eyes away from the rectangle box to crane his neck back and peer down at you through thick lashes— you and that godforsaken circle around your finger.

The small, knowing grin that makes itself home on Oscar's lips almost makes you embarrassed at your obvious search for attention. Almost. Your boyfriend sways his hips lightly to turn the wheely chair toward your peripheral vision.

“C’mere, sit on my lap while I finish?” he muses, patting his right thigh encouragingly. When he registers your giddy smile and hasty advances toward him, Oscar wants to punch himself three times in the gut for not asking you sooner.

“Well, if you’re begging for it,” you shrug sarcastically through a tight-lipped smile, finding solace in the V of his pale thighs before pausing.

Oscar notices your sudden shift in demeanor because, well, when does he not? “What’s wrong?”

You blink dumbly, pointing your index finger at the hem of his loose, cobalt blue shorts. The Australian follows the invisible line shooting out of your finger and frowns; his thighs tense instinctively, your unnerving stare fueling his insecurities more than he would like to admit.

“Y’don’t like them? I went to the mall with Lan last week, and he told me they were nice, so—”

The last of his words are muffled by a hand pressing against his mouth. Guilt shines through your pupils, he notices. “No, no, Osc, t-they’re fine. Fine, just– just short, is all.”

Really, incredibly, stupidly short. They were bunched up to the crease between his inner thighs and crotch, the pure muscle spilling out from the sides, making you curl your fists by your sides.

“Ah.”

Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, and regret swells in your heart almost immediately. “What? Why’re y’looking at me like that?”

Oscar nearly coos at the slight whine in your voice, and he reaches out to wrap his fingers around your forearm. Now, he’s sure he coos when you melt into his lap, his palms gripping the back of your folded knees and pulling you closer into his embrace. 

“M’sorry, sorry, baby,” he laughs, and you hum happily as you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck, Oscar pecking your temple lovingly.

He still sounds like he’s aware of something you have no recollection of but. The warmth that wraps your soul in a blanket each time Oscar touches you returns, and the thought is quickly forgotten.

“S’fine,” you murmur. And you mean it this time.

A hum ripples against his throat and vibrates against your skin; time drifts by unknowingly—fast or slow, ten minutes or hours—but it’s enough for you to shift listlessly in your place. Oscar freezes, his pupils blown wide.

“S–shit, y/n, stop that,” he seethes through gritted teeth, hands flying to your waist and pushing you back slightly.

Your eyebrows furrow, confused wrinkles covering your forehead as you gaze down at him for an explanation, a reason—really, anything to stop your mind from running at a hundred miles per second.

“What?” a pout graces itself on your lips; Oscar wants to kiss it away, but. But if he does, he’s not sure how much self-restraint he can muster around you. “D’I do somethin’? Why don’t you...”

Sighing heavily, Oscar’s tight hold on your waist relocates down to your thighs. “No, no, baby—fuck, no, nothing like that. Just,” he lifts your knee to straddle one of his thighs instead. “Like this... s’better.”

Half instead of whole, and.

And Osc would cross the world twice, delving into each volcano and marching up the tallest mountains, to reassure you that you did nothing wrong in particular. It was him. Him and the blood rushing to his balls from you practically humping your clothed pussy against his dick.

Okay, maybe ‘humping’ is a bit of an exaggeration, but it didn’t feel like one.

Unbeknownst to Oscar, however, the relieved pressure on his end only slipped through the cracks of his skin and into yours. But he, God bless him, thinks nothing of the tension that’s boiling in your shoulders or the hitch of your breath. Blaming it on the lingering effects of his sudden repositioning, Oscar gently pulls you down with two massive hands on the swell of your ass.

Flush against his thigh. His thigh, Jesus fuck—a quiet forgive me, Lord, echoes around the walls of your mind.

“Osc,” you gasp quietly, the constant pressure against your privates shooting unfamiliar spikes of something down to your stomach—something you needed more of.

He hums dismissively; you want to cry. It doesn’t take you long, though, to fully grasp his attention when Oscar registers the heartbeat pressing between your squished pussy and his thigh.

The Australian's mind short circuits. “Y/n?”

“Osc, I-” you roll your hips experimentally, slapping a hand over your mouth and flushed cheeks when it parts around an unrestrained whimper.

Your boyfriend, seemingly snapping out of his bewildered daze, dips down to dust his lips over your reddening cheeks, chuckling fondly. “Enjoying y’self, baby?”

And that. That is what pulled you away from the edge of logical thinking and onto its’ center, halting movement in every bone in your body. Wrong—this—it’s all wrong, isn’t it? ‘I will wait for my beloved’ is etched into your skin, engraved onto your heart, and yet.

Yet, you can’t help but wonder: Is Oscar not your beloved?

“Y/n,” his assertiveness grounds you, pulls you back to the surface of his honey-filled eyes—just as he had intended. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready…”

Oscar's hand leaves the curve of your waist and reaches behind his neck to clasp onto your palm, bringing the cool metal of your purity ring against his mouth as he murmurs, “But don’t stop on my account.”

The ring burns through your skin and falls to the ground; you hope it cracks into a million little pieces of stupid promises. And anyway, Osc’s giddy smile when you allow him to—do what, you’re not really sure—is too precious to deny.

Nibbling on your raw bottom lip, you slowly shake your head. “No, I– I want this, Osc. Want you.”

He does not disappoint; his eyes crinkle through that grin you’d pay to see a hundred times over. Oscar taps the side of your thigh twice, signaling you to stand up, so you do. Your hands lay helplessly by your sides as he smoothed over the contours of your body until—

You let out a little gasp. “Osc!”

A soft, harmless tug at the hem of your shorts widens your eyes.

“Y/n,” he calls, and you can’t bother fighting the urge to rub your thighs together. “Y’want me to touch you, right? Make y’pussy feel better?”

The amount of self-restraint needed to block the guffaw from slipping past your lips does not fit into a number. Or a word. In any language.

Nonetheless, you find yourself bashfully nodding.

“Words, Y/n.”

You gulp, embarrassment apparent on your crimson cheeks. “Want you to—to make m’feel better.”

Oscar heaves out a laugh at your refusal to say those objectively filthy words; you almost want to commit murder, but it hurts. It hurts, and you can’t help but sigh happily when his hands swiftly pull both your shorts and panties down, manhandling your ankles out of the pool of clothing by your feet.

And only then, being ogled at by his mesmerized eyes and hands sliding down the sides of your body, does your mind grasp the fact that you were standing in front of Oscar. Half naked. His for the taking. The shame you'd expected to feel never came, and when Osc pulls you to straddle his thigh, you knew it never would.

“There we go,” he praises when you shift your weight fully onto him, rewarding you with a bounce of the leg you were resting on.

Choking through a loud gasp, your hands fly to his shoulders to brace yourself. “Oh, Osc, oh my—”

“Yeah? Y’like that?” Oscar grins almost cockily, repeating the sharp movement of his legs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Mm, fuck, baby, can feel you all ov’me.”

The humiliating amount of slick your pussy’s gushing out should make you ashamed, but, well. When you grind against his thigh, the glide is much smoother than when you were fully clothed, so you silently thank your desperation instead.

“C’mon, baby, y’can do better than that,” he urges, hands resting on the globes of your ass and grinding your pussy against his slick-ridden thigh. “Y’ve been waiting so long for this, haven’t you?”

He coos at your frantic nods and refrains from groaning at the sight of you tilting your head back in pleasure; using him—his fucking thigh—to get off. The sound of your little, whiny moans leaves him feeling like an inexperienced teenager all over again; he wants more. Wants to have your pretty sounds made into a song to play on loop whenever he needs to.

With Oscar’s forceful hands dragging you up and down his muscular thighs, tensing them occasionally, and lips mouthing at your collarbone, you don’t think a sin should ever feel this good. You don’t think it could feel any better than it does, but.

The urgency in your movements almost has your legs aching, your jaw parted around a permanent ‘o’; the whimper that slips past your lips when his fingers graze your folds, not pushing but they’re there, and Oscar fucking moans when he feels your hole clench against them; the stutter of your hips when he dips down to your tits, tongue licking over the tight, thin fabric covering the hard nubs.

“Osc, ohmygod, ohm—” Your wail echoes around the entire flat, you’re sure, and if you had even a sliver of dignity left, you’d quiet down.

But. Oscar seems to have that effect on you; really, you don’t mind.

“Yeah, baby, I’m your god, huh?” He huffs out, muffled by his sucking on your nipples like they’d disappear tomorrow—like he is the one being taken apart on someone’s lap. “Humping my thigh—fuck, so fucking desperate, look at you.”

Your mouth parts around a moan, and you quickly put your face into the crook of his neck to, hopefully, contain your embarrassing noises. It does fuck all. Oscar lets out a disapproving noise at the separation of your little, swollen nipples and his pursed lips.

“Oscar, Oscar, Oscar,” you sob out like a prayer. “I feel, ah, I think I'm—Oh, yes, feels s’good, so.”

When Oscar slides a hand up to your hair to tug your head up to his face, he looks nearly as fucked out as you feel. And when his eyes dart to your lips, visibly contemplating whether or not he should kiss you, you make the decision for him.

His soft lips meet the fuse of the boiling pleasure in your stomach, forcing your spine to arch and painting your eyes a shade of white you had only imagined would be in heaven—smiling hazily and foggy-brained, you can’t imagine this not being heaven. 

A sharp cry dances between your mouths, and you swear you can feel a few tears trickle down your face, but your mind only processes the last few moments before you collapse onto his chest.

Oscar gently slides the silver band out of your ring finger, tucking it into his pockets, and placing a soft kiss on your temple as he murmurs, “No use f’this, now, is there?”

Even when on the brink of passing out, you find yourself nodding; Oscar thinks you’ll be the death of him. Or, more specifically, his dick.

authors notes this is an apology to @lifeboredme for ignoring the poll n writing the max fic hehe hope u enjoy 🫶 + thank you to @cafekitsune as always for the dividers mwah.

plot what plot??? porn without plot🗣️🗣️🗣️ very much hate this fic but i also hate every fic of mine so. en e wayz im sorry in advance for my inactivity the next few weeks i have sm shit going on. writing grind comes after march 6 istg🙏

also, thank you so much to everyone who waited for this fic and im so sorry for the delay!! i got hit by a mountains load of stress but yeah <3

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🥕

taglist in separate posts again el oh el . . . i tagged everyone who interacted w/ my original post bcs i was too lazy to make an actual post dedicated to tags

p.s REBLOGS and likes are always appreciated 🧡🧡

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[maxtermind]

“you’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” + “you hear me? Never” with charles dom leclarc🫣😍 thank you!!

“you’re in no position to tease baby, remember that.” + “you hear me? never.”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where your boyfriend can't survive without tasting you ★:feat:: charles leclerc x reader ★:genre:: smut

"hey baby," charles greets, his lips pressing a soft, sweet kiss to yours. there's a whisper in the air, a low murmur against your skin, "missed you so fucking much."

you smile, a gentle curve of your lips, warmth spreading through your chest. you know charles well, and tonight, you can see that he’s in good spirits. he eats dinner with you, shares stories from the weekend, laughs at your jokes, and all the while, he’s holding your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your skin.

maybe this weekend wasn’t as hard on him as you thought. he seems relaxed, content even, like the exhaustion of the race hasn't taken its usual toll. perhaps he's just tired, you think, not as touch-starved as you initially assumed. but oh, are you wrong. horribly, horribly wrong.

the only reason he's holding just your hand is because he's afraid he might break before you've even had the chance to finish your meal. he doesn’t care how badly he wants to have you spread out on the bed, lapping at your juices like a starved man. no, you worked hard on this, so he’s holding back, suppressing the urge to snap, letting you believe that he’s unaffected every time you lick your finger or bat your eyelashes at him.

dinner wraps up, and you're none the wiser as you instead try to drive charles to the edge when you bent down in front of him, eyes on him, bottom lip between your teeth. "i know you're tired, but help me wash?" you ask sweetly, your voice carrying that innocent edge that drives him insane. 

the words have barely left your mouth when he’s pulling you up, his grip firm as he walks you toward the kitchen. there’s an intensity in his eyes now, a darkness that makes your breath catch in your throat. he turns on the faucet, but it’s clear that cleaning the dishes is the last thing on his mind.

he pushes you gently against the counter, his body pressing against yours, trapping you between him and the cold, hard surface. the contrast sends a shiver down your spine. his hands are on your hips, firm but gentle, and his lips brush the shell of your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.

“you’re in no position to tease, baby. remember that.”

the words send a thrill of anticipation through you, your body responding immediately to the change in his tone, “you know that won’t end well for you.” charles isn't usually this assertive, but when he is, it's intoxicating. your breath hitches as his hands slide down your sides, fingertips grazing your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

he spins you around, pressing your chest against the counter now, and you can feel the heat of his body behind you, the hard length of him pressing into your lower back. he leans in, his lips brushing your neck, kissing, nibbling, until your knees feel like they might give out, “so responsive.” he drags out, his hot breath leaving goosebumps on your skin.”

“t‘s all for me?”one of his hands slides up to your neck, not gripping, just resting there, holding you in place. his breath against your ear now as he whispers, “i’ve missed this, missed you.” he pauses, his voice dropping even lower. “four days, baby. four days without touching you, without tasting you. do you know how hard that was?”

“missed you,” is all you can mummer and charles tsks from behind you. you shiver, the tone of his voice sending a wave of arousal through you. “charles…” you start again, but he cuts you off, his grip on your neck tightening slightly.

“no,” he drawls. “you don’t get to speak right now.” his other hand slides down your body, fingers skimming your stomach, your hips, before slipping under the waistband of your shorts. you let out a small gasp as he touches you, his fingers finding you already wet, aching for him.

Charles groans softly, the sound vibrating through your skin. “you’re so wet for me already,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “i love how your body responds to me.”

Your boyfriend pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, and they pool at your ankles. his fingers are back between your legs, teasing, stroking, spreading your arousal. you're trembling, anticipation building with every touch, every breathless whisper. “thought you didn’t want this tonight,” you whimpered innocently.

then, without warning, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty,”i never don’t want you.” you tremble against him, but before you can protest, he's on his knees behind you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back towards him. he’s rougher now, more desperate, and the sudden change in demeanor only makes your desire burn hotter.

“you hear me? never,” he growls, his voice full of raw need. he drags his tongue along your slit, tasting you, and you cry out, your hands clutching at the edge of the counter as your knees buckle when he reaches your clit.

“charles—” you gasp, but your words dissolve into a moan as his tongue flicks against your bundle of nerves again, quick and relentless. he’s devouring you like a man starved, every movement precise, practiced, driving you closer to the edge.

his hands hold you in place, thumbs digging into the flesh of your hips, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his tongue slides inside you, deep and slow, and you can feel yourself clenching around the warm, wet muscle, your body responding instinctively.

“fuck,” you breathe out, the word barely audible over the sounds of his mouth on you. he pulls back slightly, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin before he’s sucking on your clit, hard enough to make your toes curl.

“Charles- hah, please—” you whimper, you start grinding against him, riding his face like a slut, you don’t know, you just need him, need everything he’s willing to give.

“not yet, baby,” he murmurs against you, his voice rough, filled with a dark promise. he’s not done with you, not even close. “i’m going to make you come, but- fuck not yet.” you feel his tiny facial hair against your thigh and that has you shivering instantly.

his tongue is back inside you, his fingers joining in now, two of them sliding in beside his tongue, stretching you, filling you. he’s relentless, not giving you a moment to breathe, not letting you think, just pushing you closer and closer to that edge.

you’re shaking, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure building into something almost unbearable. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pulls back, his lips leaving your skin.

you’re about to protest, to beg, but then he’s standing up, pulling you up with him, spinning you around so you’re facing him. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and his chest is heaving as he looks at you.

“now,” he says, his voice low and commanding as he spreads you open and pulls your legs over his shoulders, “come. now.”

his hand is between your legs again, fingers circling your clit, and it’s too much, the tension snaps right away, and you’re coming, your body trembling, shaking, as the waves of pleasure crash over you. charles watches you, his eyes never leaving your face, his fingers working you through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you’re slumping against him, spent and breathless.

he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “you did so well,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, the dominance fading, replaced with tenderness. “so fucking beautiful, baby.”

you’re still shaking, your body buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you feel safe, grounded in his arms. he holds you like that for a long moment, letting you come down, letting you breathe, before he finally speaks again, his voice filled with a quiet determination.

“missed you, y/n,” charles says again, a touch of vulnerability in his voice this time. his lips brushing against your neck and as you finally take in his face, the fact that you did this to him, came on his face so hard that his lips and facial hair are still wet, suddenly has you clenching around nothing. “baby, what ar-” he starts when he sees you start to bend your knees to get down on the ground but you just shush him. Your hand massages him over his pants and your boyfriend throws his head back. “fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[dolicekiss]

Hi,

may I request a Hannibal one-shot, in which he is marrying a traditional women (saving herself for marriage etc.). With the main focus of course being the wedding night?🫣😂

Untouched Virtues

CW: smut (18+, mdni), first time, inexperienced reader (like very), arrange marriage, sort of plot, age gap (unspecified but hannibal is older), messy kissing, tension, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (p in v), starved hannibal, riding, mating press, swearing, breeding, oblivious reader

Your leg shook violently, a testament to your impending anxiety as well as the anticipation which burned in your stomach. You'd exchanged vows with Hannibal, even kissed but whenever you thought about your wedding night — nervousness adorned your once serene features. Hannibal was a grown adult, so were you. It was easy having the conversation and he told you he would wait until you were comfortable.

But it was never about comfort as you had already find comfort in his presence. It was more about the actions, the emotions and the intensity of them which brought you embarrassment. You had concealed your desire for Hannibal, as you did find him attractive.

He was beyond handsome.

A beauty that is only found within the art of ancient history.

People danced, laughed, engaged in conversations and connected with each other. You were greeting a few guests, friends of your parents and when you raised your gaze from their table, you found your husband with his own gaze fixated on your small frame.

Hannibal sent you a short smile which you happily returned.

To you, everything was fine but within Hannibal there was a battle.

Of restraint, of concealed feelings, of urges.

The first time he saw you, he had fallen hopelessly in love. It was true that the love he felt for you was too potent, enough to consume his whole being and he was aware of your coyness. It was what pulled him towards you. He could not express his desires properly, not with how your cheeks would bleed crimson at a mere compliment about your hair or your dress.

The party was going to end soon and Hannibal looked forward to it. He'd comforted you that he would wait, as long as you wished for him to but that didn't mean he would not try seducing you, after he did acknowledge your attraction for him. It oozed out in all your actions, your ministrations.

The man was cunning and he knew his way around the human mind — even if that was somehow morally wrong.

Time passed by, quite agonizingly for Hannibal and finally it was night time for you.

Hannibal had brought you to his house and it was posh, had very little color but it was beautiful nonetheless. His room was a mix of greens, whites and browns and it matched his personality too as the man was always reserved and composed. You rarely ever found him losing his composure which was good for you.

You were yet to change out of your wedding dress, leaning against the wall as you looked out the balcony into the open sky, which glimmered with stars all over.

It was a beautiful sight.

You turned around upon hearing footsteps and found Hannibal had stepped out of the bathroom. He was still in his black tux and it made him look as dashing as a model. The sight before you was gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare ahead.

“You enjoy watching the stars?”

You nodded coyly at his words. “They are beautiful, and lonely.”

You whispered back and Hannibal nodded, not following it after with something. Instead the man found his place next to you and you noticed the glass of champagne he picked up on the way.

He was leaned on the other side of the wall, sipping his poison as he gazed at you rather the stars. To him you were the most brightest and beautiful star.

“You're more beautiful than the stars.” He spoke softly and your gaze found him, cheeks beetroot red. He had a way with his words and at times Hannibal would say things that could be compared to poetry in itself. “I could watch you for hours while you watch the stars.”

“You flatter me,” came a soft chuckle from you, palm laid flat across your chest as your cheeks rounded up.

Hannibal stared at you, his stare darkening at the mere thought of ripping the dress apart and claiming you as his. The adoration tainted with lust as his eyes fell lower and lower, eyeing how your legs would look, wrapped around his shoulders. How you'd sound — how breathless you'd be when he would defile you and claim you as his forever.

Hannibal inhaled, finishing his champagne.

He decided to take a step forward, and immediately your eyes captured him. Like a deer caught in headlights, you were looking at him with the most innocent eyes and Hannibal took that as an invitation. He closed the distance between the two of you and pressed your short frame against the wall rather gently, still mastering control over his rough needs. Brawny hands found your waist, holding you in place as he towered over you and the strong whiff of your scent almost drove him insane.

“I want to kiss you.” Hannibal whispered and you looked into his eyes, pupils blown fully and then you nodded.

That was all he needed.

Even if you were not willing to sleep with him, he knew the permission to kiss could lead to something more, he'd see to it.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a soft kiss and you expected it to carry on like that but that was where you were wrong. Hannibal occupied your lips — at first in a gentle lock — but soon it grew into something more. Haste urges to pry open your lips with his tongue, to slither it inside your wet cavern and explore it.

A battle amongst your tongues.

You whimpered when Hannibal sucked rather aggressively on your lower lip, one hand gripping your waist firmly while the other shifted against the wall, to wrap around your nape as he locked you in place.

You were breathless and your inability to keep up with his pace oozed out in all your actions as your small hands attempted to push at his chest for an ounce of air. Hannibal forbade you — kissing you like your lips produced the finest honey and he was a starved man.

“Hanni—” Your endeavor to speak was futile as the man was too far gone, saliva belonging to you both staining your lips as well as his.

After awhile Hannibal retreated and you nearly succumbed to the floor, plush breasts rising up and down in desperate attempts to inhale oxygen. Hannibal stared at you, in pure awe at how fucked out you seemed by a mere kiss. The man didn't waste time as he hoisted you up in his arms, earning a squeal out of you. Leading you to the bed, Hannibal peppered soft kisses along your neck while walking over to the bed in the middle of the room to lay you down.

Once he had you pressed into the bed, his fingers worked their way to your back to unzip your dress.

You gasped. “Listen—”

“You would still deny me?” Hannibal stalled, looking up at you and you fucking melted at the way he was looking at you.

Like a needy pup starved of affection.

You shook your head. “No, just slow down a little please. You know it's my first time.”

Hannibal felt the urge to punch himself. Of course it was your first and you being a sensitive soul did not help either. He nodded and leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead, hoping that would calm you down.

It did work.

You sent him a smile as his fingers dragged down the zipper of your dress, curving underneath the neckline to pull it down. Your arms flew to cover your breasts when they were revealed while Hannibal rid you of the dress, his eyes hungry and full of lust.

You were dressed in some lace white lingerie, forced into it by your mother for your husband to unravel you like some gift. You softly gasped as the cold air came in contact with the uncovered parts of your body, leaving you a bit flustered.

Hannibal made his way to your neck, pressing kisses down in a deformed line. Littering them over your plush cleavage and as well as your navel — moving down to your bikini line and pausing at the hem of your white lace underwear. In a fraction of few minutes, he tugged that off you as well and then unhooked your bra, sliding it off.

You were fully bare now and you felt breathless, bare to him. Hannibal’s gaze laid on your cunt, as he pried your thighs open. All you could do was hide your face and blush furiously while the man actually did unwrap you like you were a fucking christmas present.

“You're absolutely beautiful,” he whispered against your core, “such a beautiful cunt, my love.”

You flinched at his words but the throbbing in your soaked cunt told you this turned you on more than you thought it would. Your attempt to close your eyes was failed as Hannibal curved his arms around your thighs, holding them apart steadily as he buried his face between your legs.

Your breath hitched, the cooling sensation of his tongue over your sticky folds earning an almost whine out of you. “Hannibal.”

He chuckled a little, gliding his tongue across your soaked folds. Going up and down and then moving his head left and right, as his wet muscle prodded at your twitchy little bud.

He shoved his tongue into your hole and your back rose up from the mattress, thighs twitching from the obscene act. Hannibal fucked you with his hand, moving it inside you and lapping up at your juices like an animal. Tip of his nose brushed against your clit all while he grinded his face into your cunt.

Your taste had him addicted.

And your little whimpers too.

How breathless you sounded, soft little sounds reverberating in the whole of this room. It was satisfying enough, this validation you gave him. Hannibal slurped up at the essence of arousal you produced, using his tongue so that you would come.

You felt your stomach tighten — a foreign feeling spreading in your abdomen. A fire unbelievable. This was the first time ever someone had touched you this provocatively and sensually, a virgin you were. Chaste, pure and this was all too inundating.

Yet you relished the pleasures once unknown to you brought by your husband.

“Hannibal! I feel it, oh my god.” You knew how it felt to release, you've made yourself come on multiple occasions.

Hannibal buried his face deeper into your cunt as both your hands laid flat across his head, trying to make him dive deeper. Your vision became a blur as overwhelming pleasure consumed you. His soft tongue prodding and licking at your sensitive bundle of nerves and then sliding down to enter inside your soaked hole — it drove you wild and as a searing orgasm tore through you, your eyes rolled back into the depths of your skull and white came up front in your gaze.

Veins hot with pleasure, the blood rushing and coursing at the speed of light.

Hannibal licked at you, like a thirsty dog, licking the remnants of your orgasm as you dragged in harsh breaths.

He'd made you realize it was worth the wait, it was so fucking worth it.

Hannibal, after peeling off his own button up shirt and pants, paired with his briefs, moved between your legs. Holding his cock which you were left baffled by, eyes enlarged at the sheer size of it. You let out a soft sigh, hand moving to press at your husband’s chest.

“It wouldn't fit.”

Hannibal moved his hand to cup your face and smiled, swiping his thumb across your round cheek. “It will. I've prepared you enough.”

Hannibal guided his cock along your soaked slit, moving the cock head up and down and prodding at your swollen bud with it. You whimpered at the friction and arched your back, making Hannibal push you back against the bed. Then you felt it — the painful stretch making you cry out as your arms found solace wrapped around his nape.

Hannibal shifted, snapping his hips as he slowly entered more of him into you.

Your eyes welled up, tears like pearls sitting against your waterline. Your husband was being extremely gentle but Hannibal had his own limits. The way your tight cunt gripped him like a vice made him want to snap all of his cock inside you in one singular thrust.

But he knew you were fragile, sensitive.

“Focus on me, beautiful.” Hannibal whispered in your face, peppering soft kisses everywhere and you nodded.

Lost in his sweet affection, you hadn't realized as Hannibal filled you with the whole of his cock in little thrusts. He groaned as he bottomed out, head dropping in your neck while his arms tightened around you, locking you in place.

He pulled out soon, once having realized you'd adjusted to his size and then snapped back inside you. Your body jolted forward as you moaned out, hold tightening around his nape. Fingers grabbing onto his hair from roots, you braced yourself.

“You'll break me, beautiful. Be a little merciful and loosen up.” Though his words were soft, Hannibal had commanded you.

You nodded and tried to relax underneath him. Hannibal began to move and you felt each vein embedded within his cock graze against your walls – your breath shuddering as he delivered impactful thrusts to your cunt. His balls slapping against you, the sinful sound reverberating through the whole room.

“Hannibal, oh god.” You cried out, when you felt him pummel into a spot that was left untouched mostly in your cervix. Tears sliding down your face, he continued fucking into your sensitive cunt.

From the orgasm from before, your walls had had grown sensitive. You whined as his arms unwrapped around you, hands moving to toy with your breasts. Squeezing them and fondling the fat like it was art, fingers and thumbs sending aggressive flicks to your buds.

“Yes—oh yes.” Hannibal grunted, thrusting inside you at a rough pace now. “You're so tight, Darling. Your little cunt will have me coming any moment now.”

You sobbed, feeling overwhelmed. Your cunt was heightened when it came to sensitivity and the way Hannibal continuously toyed with your hardened peaks worked harder to tear another climax out of you.

You cried out as Hannibal pummeled his cock inside you, his own peak near. Hannibal’s grunts mixed with your whines had elevated the room with palpable tension. You were so worth the wait as Hannibal relished your moans, the way your little body twitched underneath him.

Your stomach tightened, your cunt as well and Hannibal groaned – feeling his cock throb and twitch. He delivered harsh thrusts and you couldn't hold it back anymore, your eyes rolling back to your head and your lips falling apart. Another hot orgasm overwhelmed your body and you cried out, fingernails digging into his skin and evoking blood.

The heat from your cunt and how you tightened around him, Hannibal finally released inside you. Rope after rope being emptied inside you and you whined, feeling how he pumped you full of cum.

Hannibal felt his balls throb, and soon he pulled out after spending fully inside you.

You panted, attempts to drag in oxygen into your expanding lungs. Hannibal stared at you before falling on the bed, next to you with his arms already extended to wrap around your frame. He held you tightly and brought you closer, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear.

“How do you feel, hm?”

You let out a soft sigh of contentment and let out a chuckle. “The best I have ever felt.”