#Inner Light and Sound
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photocyclelog · 3 months ago
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A true triathlete: at home on water, land, and in the air…
A different type of resident, but too much light… the wee pocket camera can't handle it…
Photo: 2nd April 2025
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loverboybrightsideghost · 11 months ago
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they weren't kidding, those bears can be in trees
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out-of-now · 1 year ago
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Beauty of nature 🌞
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kredensik · 2 years ago
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getting into death note again after watching hannibal is like. fruit fruit. tits tits.
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peachjuiceretriever · 2 years ago
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hightaled · 2 days ago
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had a knockoff yuri hunger games dream
#in a house with an inner balcony running back and forth between some evil dimension and a regular one that had pegasi and a bitchy little#talking cat thing that would hide in this neighboring brambly ruins and only come out when i was desperate#i was trying to find my missing roomie. went back into house with family (?) and had shitty juice and they were like you have to go to the#knockoff hunger games#i go thru trials and tribulations to get there idr#it looks like the small town fourth of july fair where my missing roomie lives in real life but with more creatures and also just slightly#evil because the end of the world is coming or something#i get there and im paired up with this cute ass girl with cute hair and we get sope weird sleeping arrangements#this like picnic tent thing w all the other contestants#and then i see her... my missing roomie that is actually right there but i know in my heart she's possessed and she will try to kill us#we go to sleep for the night and as im giggling w my partner i turn my head and i see her sleeping with her eyes open and staring at me...#icl kind of unfortunate and unforgettable that was kind of actually scary.. but anyway next morning we get our choice of breakfast and we#get crepes yayyy except the crepe people at the crepe stand were acting like they didnt want anything to do with crepes#we immediately get tossed into the arena#suddenly it changes and becomes like 2d and like those old animated backgrounds where it's like a bunch of paper pieces and it looks like#medieval illumination. a herd of pegasi in that style comes down from the heavens and idr anything else. swords and shields involved#i could only move in 2d and i was looking at myself from above even tho it didnt match the bg perspective but its okay#will be drawing lowk that fucked hard. at this point i was too excited and got too lucid#roomie did not try to kill us hooray but we didnt end up saving her oops#genuinely so visually interesting there were a lot of bits like the neighboring castle that looked like childrens book illustrations#a lot of signage and actual words when we were looking around the fairgrounds#also realistic shadows inside w overhead and lamp lighting#more gay than it sounds me and her were yapping but idr what ... it felt like a sleepover#rex.txt
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forehead451 · 7 months ago
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#honestly after a lifetime of keeping my mouth shut until a breaking point i am absolutely hating but appreciating the benefits of#crashing out aka defending myself at whatever slight comes my way from specific people who are doing it purposely and pretending not to#im not like this with anyone but a very select few. and when i say few i really mean a select one.#the moment they open their mouth im ready and rearing to go and they ALWAYS. GO THERE.#i saw this video yesterday which made me laugh bc it sounds like something a super asshole would say but to take it in good faith which is#how i believe the person who made the video--in good faith#anyway they were like you ever think about how you just keep losing control or feeling super uncomfortable and acting jittery and#hypervigilant around somebody and you keep thinking about what youre doing wrong and why you cant just relax and just look at what they do#in a more favourable light and what they say as them really meaning well#and then you just think waitttt a minute ... maybe for once?? its NOT ME. its really NOT ME acting off and moving strange#sometimes it really is NOT YOU.#its allllll THEMMMMM!“#lmao anyway the way they did it made me laugh and after losing my shit earlier which i dont enjoy physically inside but my self worth does#appreciate#im glad it came to mind now as im falling asleep#yeah#it won't be a forever stage but my inner child has reached a teenager phase and its a process that just has to be done. what can i say.
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satoblue · 6 months ago
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“she’ll have your eyes.”
your brows quirk up. “she?”
satoru hums, his large hand rubbing your swollen belly, growing with the life the both of you created together.
“how could you be so sure?”, you murmur inquisitively, fingers gently tugging at strands of arctic white.
your husband chuckles softly at your question, pulling you onto his lap as if you were a delicate thing made of glass, hands resting on your thighs.
his cerulean blue eyes dart down towards your stomach, rubbing the bump affectionately.
“i just am.”
“uh huh,” you sound with an undertone of disbelief. “and i’m assuming your six eyes must’ve shown you, oh great and powerful sorcerer?”
satoru snorts at your sarcastic response, pinching the flesh of your inner thigh gently for your cheekiness. you pout, and his eyes glimmer with amusement.
“maybe it did. maybe it showed me a cute little girl with your eyes and my hair. who knows?”
“hm… well, is that what you want? a girl?”, you fiddle with the collar of his uniform he neglected changing out of, opting to fall straight into your arms the moment he walked through the door.
your husband shrugs, his hands resting on your hips now, giving them a light squeeze. his sights don’t stray for a single moment from your pregnant tummy, caught up in imagining a tiny version of you inside, his heart fluttering with love and excitement.
“don’t care. as long as it’s ours.”
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santmat · 1 year ago
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The Unpublished Letters of Kirpal Singh on Meditation Practice - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast @ Youtube and All the Podcast Sites (Apple, Spotify, etc...)
Today I begin with a reading from the mystic verses of Sat Saheb, the initiating spiritual master of Sant Dariya Sahib. Sat Saheb was one of the earlier Sant Satgurus of the Sant Mat guru lineage living a couple of generations prior to the time of Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras. His mystic poetry is quite beautiful and composed in the style of the Anurag Sagar and other scriptures of the earlier Kabir-Sant Dharam Das line of masters. Then I share some letters from Sant Kirpal Singh on meditation practice. Those are quite wonderful, and helpful for the satsangi seeking to improve the quality of their meditation experience. Then there's a short discourse from Baba Somanath about becoming the "form of Truth" by focusing upon the teachings of the masters. In conclusion, two satsang discourses by Sant Ram Singh: having focused attention during simran practice that purifies the mind, and, about becoming a gurumukh following the instructions and guidance of the masters instead of being held captive by the limited thoughts of the mind, thus remaining a disciple controlled by the dictates of the mind, a manmukh. "Follow Their Teachings, overcome sorrow, and not only that, you will get the joy of going within. And you will also achieve the purpose for which you have been given this life." (Baba Ram Singh)
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sinkuna · 1 month ago
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୨୧ ― The hotel room door closes with a soft click behind you, the pale light of the moon streaming through floor to ceiling windows.
Nanami had reserved the penthouse suite, ordered champagne that cost more than most people's rent, and even scattered rose petals across the king sized bed like fallen prayers. The man- your now husband, had ensured every detail was perfect for this moment after your wedding.
Because nothing- absolutely nothing, was ever too much when it came to you.
His hands wind around your waist from behind with the same reverence he'd shown sliding the ring onto your fingers hours ago. It was almost like he was memorizing the moment through touch alone. "Mrs. Nanami," he murmurs against your ear, and you feel him smile at the unfamiliar weight of your new name. "My wife," pressing his lips against your neck, the word still foreign on his tongue but sweeter than any bread he's ever had.
You lean into his warmth, the soft fabric of his tuxedo rubbing against the back of your own dress. "Mr. Nanami," you breathe, reaching back to caress his cheek, and you feel him press into you more at the title, his grip on you tightening, "My husband."
His fingers found the delicate zipper at your spine, drawing it down with practiced patience. Each inch of exposed skin received its own blessing- lips, warm breath, soft touches that made you arch against him.
"So beautiful,” he breathes against your vertebrae, "always so beautiful." his breath ghosts over your bare shoulders as the white gown slides away like shed silk... "Perfect," he adds, voice hitching as the fabric pools at your feet in waves of ivory and lace, leaving you in nothing but intricate lingerie. The garter belt sits high on your thigh- his gift to you, adorned with a diamond that matches the one on your finger. 
Turning you in his arms, "Gorgeous," his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, hands tracing your jaw, "Stunning," he whispers, cupping the nape of your neck as he draws you deeper, tongue coaxing a quiet moan from your lips… "All mine." he says with a low growl. All these words heavy with the weight of a man who's never been careless with language. When Nanami Kento calls you beautiful, gorgeous, stunning... perfect, it's because he's catalogued every detail that makes them true.
And it was all reserved just for you. Only for you.
Your hands reach up to push the jacket from his shoulders, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt- needy and impatient until he caught your hands. "Slowly," he commanded gently, "we have all night."
His mouth traced the column of your throat, pausing at your pulse point to feel your heart racing. "I love how responsive you are," he murmured, teeth grazing your collarbone, "how you tremble when I touch you here..." his thumb traced your nipple through delicate white lace… "How you make those little sounds..."
A soft moan escaped as he took the lace covered peak between his teeth, rolling gently until your knees buckled.
"That sound," he groaned, steadying you against his chest, "I'm going to spend tonight learning all the new ones you'll make as my wife."
"Mmph~ K-Kento~ oh god I-"
"Shhh, I'll take care of you," he promises, fingers ghosting along the lacy edge of your panties, "just like I always do, only this time..." his thumb rubs circles through the thin fabric of your thong, a teasing pressure against the bundle of nerves that has you moaning and rocking against his hand, "i think i'll make sure this whole building knows you're Mrs. Nanami now."
His strong arms hook beneath your legs, lifting you effortlessly to settle you among the rose petals. The bed dipping under his knee as he follows, hovering over you like a man worshipping at an altar, fingers caressing your face as he takes a moment to simply admire the picture you make- sprawled out beneath him. 
"I love you," the words barely audible as he leans down, lips finding the delicate skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing the delicate skin, "so much." Your back arches involuntarily as he finds the diamond adorning the middle of your garter, giving it a flick with his tongue before tracing the silk band with calloused fingers. "I'm so glad you didn't toss this earlier," he admits... "When you told everyone you were keeping it... I was relieved you wanted to skip that particular tradition."
The diamond catches in the moonlight as you bite your lip, a sweet smile playing at the corners of your mouth, "Well~ I was thinking," you card your fingers through his styled hair, mussing the soft strands, "maybe I could wear just this when you come home from work from now on."
His eyes snap to yours, "Don't," his tone serious- the careful control he's maintained all evening fracturing at your words... "Don't tell me things like that unless you want me taking extended lunch breaks to come home… I don't think I'd be able to control myself if you did." he confesses, and the honesty in his voice has your heart skipping a beat, "I barely manage now."
Without breaking eye contact, he catches the garter between his teeth, his lips grazing your skin as he drags it achingly slow down your thigh, "do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of you greeting me at the door wearing nothing but this?" With a final tug, he slips the garter free, letting it dangle from his mouth before tossing it aside with a smirk.
"K-Kento please~" You squirm under his heated gaze, thighs squeezing together, trying to relieve the throbbing ache between your legs, but the action only makes it worse… "Please don't tease me tonight. I can't-"
"Please what, darling?" a lock of his hair falls in his eyes, "Tell your husband what you need." He runs his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting and spreading them apart. The sight of his head between your legs, looking up at you from beneath the fall of his hair has you biting the inside of your cheek...
"Please~" the word barely a whisper, "M'need you, Kento. Need my husband to make a mess of me hah~"
Your words dissolve as he removes your lace thing- his mouth finding you bare and fucking soaked, "God," he groans against you, tongue swiping at your slick folds. 
He devours you like communion wine, like salvation itself, tongue fucking into your entrance, a thumb circling the small bud above.
"Nghhh fuck~" Your eyes squeeze shut, the pressure building, hips rolling to meet his tongue, your juices covering his chin.
"So sweet," he groans, the words muffled against your pussy, the vibration making you buck against him, "I could savor you all night."
With that he rises up, mouth leaving you empty and aching, his hands pinning your hips to the bed, "But I think i'll save the rest of my appetizer for later." He smirks down at you, wiping the remnants of your slick off his chin with the back of his hand.
Slowly, he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, pulling it free in a single motion, "Put your arms above your head, love," he orders softly, watching as you obey without question, a soft gasp escaping when he catches both your wrists, securing them with his belt. "This is my wedding night as well, after all…" securing the leather strap around the frame of the headboard, "And I intend to take my time with you."
Your fingers curl around the smooth leather, testing the bindings as his cock springs free, precum already pearling at the tip. The head is flushed, straining, and aching to be buried in your heat.
"Fuck-," he groans, hand gripping the base, thumb sweeping his weeping slit, "you have no idea what you do to me."
He positions himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding along your wet folds, the tip catching your clit, and then he's sinking into you, a strangled groan torn from his throat as you wrap around him like a vice.
Each thrust has the bedframe creaking as he fills you completely, perfectly, his cock stretching you just right. His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling as you move together, the only sounds in the room are the obscene sounds of your joined bodies, your broken cries, his grunts of pleasure.
"Ah! Mnnnh Kento~" You writhe beneath him, tugging at the restraints, body arching and straining for release, but the position keeps you helpless, a moaning wreck, pinned and bound by his cock, his weight, his strength.
"Harder~" The word slips out before you can stop it, and you feel him still above you.
"Are you certain?" His voice carries an edge now, something darker lurking beneath the tenderness.
"Please, Kento. I need… I need you to fuck me. M’need my husband to make me scream~."
The change is immediate. Your sweet gentle Nanami, replaced by his more desperate… pent up, and demanding side- god you loved it when he got like this~. His thrusts become punishing, deep enough to make you see stars- head so dizzy it causes you to babble incoherently. And his words… oh, his words turn absolutely filthy.
"This what my precious wife needs?" he rasps, breath hot against your throat as his cock drives deep, "Her loving husband splitting this perfect pussy open, making her beg for more like a whore."
The headboard rocks against the wall as he thrusts into you, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. "Look how you're taking it," he pants, voice breaking, "Greedy little thing swallowing my cock. You're dripping all over the sheets, darling."
When he pulls out he’s quickly undoing his belt from your wrists- flipping you onto your stomach hastily as you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But then he's slamming back into you from behind, the new angle making you scream into the pillows.
"That's it," he groans, watching as that pretty pussy of yours grips him each time he withdraws, "let the whole hotel hear how good your husband fucks you. Let them know how desperate- how hungry you are for my cock."
His hand comes down on your ass with a brutal crack, making you clench and gush around him. "You like that, don't you? My beautiful wife likes being spanked while she gets her pussy destroyed from behind."
"Y-yesss! Oh god, yesss!" you babble, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as you're fucked senseless- eyes rolling back, "I love it when you ahhhh! when you use me like this!" Your voice breaks into needy whimpers, pussy clenching desperately around his length as he pounds into you, "Yesyesyes! Fuck me harder!"
He sets a brutal pace, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that makes your vision white out, your body trembling as you lose yourself completely to the sensation. "Please," you moan, saliva dripping from your parted lips, "don't stop... m’need it so bad... need your cock so f’hah- fucking deep..."
"Going to stuff you so full," he growls against your ear, teeth sinking into your shoulder, "give you everything until you’re overflowing with it… until your belly swells with it..."
His movements stutter for just a heartbeat- eyes widening in shock at what he'd just said… Until your belly swells... Did he really just confess he wants to make a child with you tonight? The admission sends a shock through his system even as his cock throbs harder at the thought.
"I- …," he breathes shakily, almost stunned by his own desperate need. But there's no taking it back now… the raw truth is out.
"D-do it~" you coo breathlessly, the words sending a shiver of pure want down his spine. Your fingers push back his hair, holding him close, and the way you look at him... The sheer amount of adoration and love in your eyes, it nearly steals his breath away. You are the light of his life...
His thrusts become erratic, sloppy, each one driven by that new need to create something precious- a son, a daughter… either or it didn’t matter.
"Look at me," he gasps, his voice breaking. "I want to see your face when I- ngh-"
Your eyes lock as his control finally snaps. With a broken moan of your name, Nanami buries himself to the hilt and releases. Hot sticky ropes of cum flood your womb, painting your inner walls white as he empties himself completely. Your own orgasm washing over you from the fullness of him, your pussy clenching and milking every last drop from his throbbing cock.
Afterward, you lie tangled together, skin slick with sweat and cum. He holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your neck as you both slowly return to earth, his cum slowly leaking out of your thoroughly used pussy.
Later, much later, dawn creeps through silk curtains to find Nanami already awake, memorizing the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him. His thumb traces over your wedding ring, this symbol of a future he never dared imagine…
"Wife," he whispers to himself, the word starting to sound less foreign.
Husband…
Thats what he is now.
And someday, perhaps sooner than later… A father.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at you- this woman who chose him, who said yes to forever with a man who once thought love was a luxury- the only luxury he thought he couldn’t afford in his dangerous line of work. Now he knew this, it was the only wealth that mattered… and he was the richest man alive.
˚₊‧꒰ა. 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
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satrs · 1 month ago
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Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [..."would you be open to writing the lads men mocking your moans?" ] ¡! ❞
A/N; sowrryyy that I took so long luv :(( This also turned into sum rambling ig, oopsiii! regardless, still hope u enjoyyy^^
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XAVIER
Your back arches against the mattress, fingers frustatingly tangled in the sheets while a breath, broken and uneven slips from your lips.
Xavier's kneeling between your legs, still fully clothed except for the shirt he shed somewhere he couldn't care less about right now. His hands are warm and firm on your thighs, holding them open as his mouth hovers just barely above your dripping heat.
"You really can't help it, can you?" he murmurs, voice low and dark with amusement, voice fanning right against puffy clit. "All I did was touch you, and you're already a mess as it is."
You shudder when his fingers slide slowly up your inner thighs, barely grazing your aching cunt.
He's doing it on purpose, of course he is.
Whimpers and wails of pleases escape you and a rush of blood hurries to your cheeks at his intense gaze, boyish grin already saying it all.
"Do you hear yourself right now?" he taunts, inching closer. "P-p-please, Xav'—"
He spurts it out in a high-pitched mock of your voice, smirk firm on his lips as he plants a sharp kiss just above your clit.
You jolt, hips twitching up with a choked cry, thighs twitching around his firm grip.
"Hushhh," he teases, running his tongue over his teeth as his eyes scan your clenching hole. "You're so loud, angel. If you want me to do something, you better keep quiet."
His mouth finally dips lower at your eager nod, licking a slow stripe up your folds, and your moan rips out of you before you can even think about biting it back.
"Mhmmm, like that Xav'! L-love— o-oh!"
At that he chuckles, kitten licks adoring your clit as his teasing glare digs holes into your eyes. "Can't help yourself, hm? What did you say? 'L-loveeee it, Xav'?"
He flattens his tongue against your clit and sucks, hard, and your cry is near-pornographic. Your thighs tremble, and he grins wider, eyes never leaving your face as two fingers slide into you, curling just right.
"Ohhh, there it is again," he croons, dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, voice mocking.
His fingers thrust harder, wrist slapping against your clit with each ruthless curl of his until your back arches clean off the bed.
"Oh, you liked that, huh?"
"M-mhmm!— Js' like that, Xav'!"
"'f course you do." he muses, "You're so damn easy, you know that?"
Yeahhh, you know. You also know that he loves that about you.
ZAYNE
"There she is."
His voice is a husky purr right against your neck, his cock burried deep inside you, twitching agains your gooey walls with each breathless whimper of yours.
You try to push his hips away at his brutal thrusts, his hands moving quick to pin your wrists above your head.
"My darling wife," he murmurs, tilting his head, eyes drinking in every shiver that runs through your body, smirk twitching up his lips as he agnles his hips just right, robbing a devastating whimper from you. "always so noisy. Cute."
Fuh—fuck! Zayne, m'—"
"What, darling? You're gonna- gonna c-c-cum?"
"Nghhh, Zayne! Q-quit it!"
"Quit it? Huh."
He pulls out just an inch and rolls his hips in slow circles, light coal colored trail of hair teasing your aching clit when suddenly his smug snicker meets your ear.
"But you sound like you're enjoying it, darling."
You writhe beneath him, arching into the friction when his grip tightens around your wrists. "O-ohhh—!"
"Mm-mmm. Quite vocal today, are we?" He tsks, tone so cruely mocking you can't help but sob in embarrassment.
"'Z-Zayne, please—just—just wanna— nghhh! wanna—'" you're a mess, voice echoing in a breathy whine. "'Can't take it no more!"
You choke on a whimper as he grinds his swollen tip delicously against your g-spot, watching your every expression twist with a big fat smirk on his face.
"Now now", he speeds up, pelvic creating a mind-numbing friction to your pulsating clit, low growl indicating that he himself is barely holding onto a thread, "What happened to my composed little darling, hmm?"
His beefy arms make quick work to throw your legs lazily over his bread shoulders, your back arching as he leans down, cock sliding even deeper into you.
"R-right there! Zayne, fuh—fuck!"
Your legs jerk at his sharp thrust, his sheer, raw girth still managing to leave you gasping and panting every damn time. And once you clench that thight pussy of yours around him like a vice, trapping him so deep inside you, he looses it.
"Gods above." It's just a breathy whisper but you know he's frantic now, chasing so desperatly for your loud sobs and cries as one strong hand slides down to smack and grab a handful of your ass as if to ground himself.
"The neighbors are gonna complain either way, so why not give them something worth whining about?"
RAFAYEL
Youre nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crecent marks in their wake as your sweat-slick body trembles, thighs shaking atop of his.
Rafayel keeps his face close to yours, coral eyes heavy-lidded and lips curled in a devilish grin every time you whimper right against his kiss-swollen lips— and fuck, do you moan a lot.
"H-hahhh, js' listen to you," he hums low, voice coated in sweet honey. "Feelin' good, yeah?"
You nod frantically, lips pursed as you try to keep a moan from escaping your lips much to his displeasure.
His hips roll up into yours with a sharp plap! resounding, and your head falls into the crock of his neck, your muffled moans dim against his skin.
And he's not having it.
Slender fingers catch your jaw, forcing your gaze back to his, placing a teasing smack! to your ass as a warning.
"Ah-ah. Eyes on me, darling. Wanna see the look on yer' face when ya' sing so pretty f' me."
"N-nghhh! Raf', don't— h-hahhh!" Your whimper is loud, body twitching under the heat of his voice, and he just laughs, a piercing pound following suit.
"Ahhh, that's the one," he mocks, grin never flattening.
"'Nghh, ahhh—!' That's your favorite one, isn't it?"
Oh if only you could wipe the sass of his face.
"No can do, cutie. The sass is built in."
"Stoppp," you whisper, blood pumping loud in your ears as reality sinks on you that you just said this out loud, hand flying out to free your jaw from his grasp.
"Stop?" Rafayel echoes in mock shock, trapping your hand in his other. "But you're clenching so tight around me every time I say it, baby."
And when he starts pounding into you in earnest, all rhythm and wicked precision, the sounds you make are nothing short of obscene.
You whimpers echo over and over again as his fat mushroomy head prods at your cervix with sharp percision, stretching your exhauted cunt far beyond her limits.
"See?", his mouth is a hair's breath away from yours, a light snicker brushing your face as his eyes take in the drool forming at your mouth. Your eyes are rolled behind your lids as lewd sounds spill from you with no end, his tongue slurping up the dripping saliva from the corner of your mouth with a sinister smile.
"Yer' lovin' it."
SYLUS
The bed creaks with every thrust, your voice already hoarse from how many obscene screams and wails Sylus managed to tear out of you, his crazy girth streching you to a point beyond sanity.
He's got you on your stomach, chest pressed into the sheets with your back arched and ass high as he pounds his staggering inches deep into you. Perfect, it's just perfect— from the immense stretch to firm grip to the back of your head.
"Fuck, sweetie," a spine-chilling groan escapes him as he drags a hand up your spine. "Did you just whine?"
You're too gone to answer— mind turned to putty at this point, as his low chuckle echoes of the room's walls, pumping all of his inches right into your g-spot— bullseye.
All you can do is wail out incoherent, half-assed sentences mumbled into the spit-stained pillow that's pressed upon your flsuhed cheek, your nails digging into the sheets below you for dear life.
"Ohhhh, that's the one."
And you can already imagine that smug smirk curling on his lips as his tone turns amused. "Let's see..." he murmurs, mockingly cooing at your noisy moans, drawing his hips back just enough before slamming forward, sending you flying forward and your head barely missing the headboard by a mere inch. "ah— there it is."
He places a kiss to your temple, your sweet noises only making his cock throb harder inside you, eager for release, "That sweet little spot that makes you sing for me."
Your nails almost tear the sheets to pieces, the overwheling feeling of him hitting your g-spot over and over again so damn addictive you're at the brink of—
"Oh, honey," Sylus laughs at your pussy spasming onto the sheets, your quickering hole desperatly clenching around his solid length, panting behind you. "You sound and look a fucking mess."
"S-Shut up—!"
"'Shut up'?" he clocks you instantly, pitch rising with cruel mimicry, "Oh, please. Bold coming from the eager little bird."
"You're— fuck! You're makin' f-fun of me!"
At that, he clicks his tongue, hand tanging in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to lean down and growl in your ear.
"Baby, I'm not trying to mock you," he breathes a laugh. "I love the way you sound. You're making the filthiest music I've ever heard."
You sob into the pillow, thighs trembling, voice a wreck of moans and breathless curses as you squirm beneath him. He pulls out halfway at your antics, then slams back in, and the sound you make is straight out of a porno.
Weakly probbing onto your arms, you try to crawl forward to get any reprieve, but his hands finds your hip in a hurry, pulling you right back in place.
"Where are you going, baby?" voice laced in mockery he picks up his speed, hammering his inches to kiss at your womb, every moan of your's only spurring him on.
"We're nowhere near done yet."
CALEB
Your legs are shaking around his hips, wrists pinned above your head, and Caleb is digging deep, his hips grinding his entire cock through your quivering walls, drawing out the most desperate cries from your throat.
He grins above you, purple hues locked onto your face. "Aaaatta girl," he hums, one hand snaking down to play with your puffy clit. "Feels so good yeah? C'mon, wanna hear ya' again."
You turn your head, cheeks flushed, trying to keep it in,trying to escape from his intense gaze, but Caleb doesn't let you. Why the hell would he?
"Nahhhh," He grasps your jaw towards his face, his other hand working tight circles on your clit as your legs begin to lock around his hips, "Don'tcha fuckin' dare, baby. Wanna hear it all."
With another percise thrust his curved tip knocks at your cervix and your mouth falls open in a silent scream before a choked moan follows. He groans in approval, lips brushing your cheek, then your ear, breath hot against your skin.
"Yeahhh, js' like that." He's all grins now, dragging his lips along your jaw. "Fuck, baby, sounds like yer' falling apart. Ya' are falling apart, huh?"
"P-pleaseeee, Caleb— nghh!"
He tuts, shaking his head almost like he's disappointed, even as his hips grind deeper, his pelvic pressing his busy pad further into your budle of nerves.
"Say my name like that again and m' gonna lose it," he warns, a sharp inhale following suit. "'Caleb, please’'?" He mimics you with a cruel smile, biting at your ear. "Please what, sweetheart?"
You shudder under him, trying to catch your breath, but he rolls his hips again, making your body jolt, nails racking at his back.
"There it is again," he notes, almost to himself in a quiet whisper. "God, ya' moan like yer ashamed of it, pips'." He mocks, snickering as you bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment.
"Tryna hide how good m' fuckin' ya?"
You gasp, biting your lip hard, but he catches that too. Of course he does.
"Don't do that," his eyes scan your face carefully. " Wanna hear that pretty mouth give me everything, mkay?"
You cry tears loose shamelessly, walls tightening around him in a desperate flutter. At that, a guttoral groan rips from his lungs before he drags his teeth along your jaw.
"So damn loud for me, baby," he praises, needy undertone audible. "Ya love when I bully that voice outta you, don'tcha?"
You nod, glossy eyes containing his reflection, weak cry leaving your lips as he places a teasing smack to your clit.
Then he leans in, kissing your swollen lips with a rough clash, voice muffled but still spilling praises into your mouth as he continues to ram right into your gushing spot with such percision you can already taste your orgasm at the tip of your tongue.
And when you finally cry out, shaking and clenching around him, Caleb grabs your legs, throwing them over his broad shoulders, helping you ride out that delicious wave of euphoria.
"Now that's my good girl."
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©︎𝙎𝘼𝙏𝙍𝙎 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!
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xiaprint · 13 days ago
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caleb “just the tip” xia #hellyeah | minors dni
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he’s too anxious, needs that reassurance from time to time. more often than not, you’ve caught the slight waver in his voice when he asks you the millionth question of the hour. you knew that he was a little inexperienced— he was saving himself. even outside of intimacy, caleb can be a nervous wreck at times. it takes the right person to pick it out of his usual charming facade. he could fool anyone, but never the one who’s been by his side through the greatest highs and lowest lows.
it’s one thing to spew the filthy shit that’s been brewing in his mind for endless years, it’s another to carry all of it out. he wants you on the sofa, on the wicker nightstand of your bedroom, on the balcony lining the outside porch. every inch of your shared childhood home has been defiled in his dreams and fantasies. to say this would be a long time coming would be the century’s understatement.
yet here he was— sweat lining his hairline, angry cock nestled against the warm mound of your cunt. it’s prettier than he had imagined, glossy and wet with a mix of arousal and his spit. even if you’re soaked enough to smear along your inner thighs, he still can’t help but think that some lube would make this easier.
tunnel vision doesn’t exactly give him a chance to consider that any further, in a trance as he sizes you up. the most forbidden area of your body, likely the only part of you that he’s never seen. sure, things have been inevitable throughout the time you’ve spent but this is light years different than an accidental walk-in courtesy of his own negligence and an unlocked door.
“what’s on your mind?” you breathe up at him and he almost misses it, heart pounding in his ears. he can hear the meekness of your words and it screams insecurity to him, purple eyes shaky as they dart back up to you. no, that was the very last thing you should ever feel.
the air in the room feels so much thicker, each passing second hitting him with that sense of realization. this was it, this was you spread out on his familiar navy blue sheets. babydoll eyes staring right up at him, looking for reassurance and comfort as your pussy drools a little puddle down your asscheeks.
“oh, baby,” he coos, faint and quiet despite the house being empty. a thumb slides along the wetness gathered at your slit, coating the pad before he’s using it to slide the pudgy hood of your clit up. it’s swollen, it’s hard and throbbing. he’s never seen anything like it and goddamn, is he feeling faint. “i think you’re so gorgeous. you already knew that, right? that you’re just so gorgeous to me.”
his words almost sound like they hurt as they leave his mouth, strained and breathless, conveying such strong emotion that it makes your chest hurt. as exposed as you are, as new as all of this is, it undeniably feels so good. the right move, the final piece to the annoying and complicated puzzle that the two of you have built.
the gentle pressure has your toes curling, a shudder punching from your kiss-bruised lips. it almost makes him jump and he moans in turn, the tips of his ears burning a crimson red. there was no chance that he could fake any of this, the raw and real reaction to seeing the love of his life so bare all for him.
“i’m getting cold, cal,” your voice whimpers in that sweet way he’s only heard once or twice before, a sound that makes his cock twitch against your cunt. his skin transfers so much heat that you can’t help but squirm and seek some for yourself.
that protective nature that he’s always held for you comes full throttle, brain wired to respond to your every plea. when an issue arises, caleb always delivers. no need for question, no need for begging. he’s got his girl.
“shh, let me warm you up,” he leans forward, his chain colliding against your chin for a moment as he plants a kiss to your forehead. simultaneously, his fat tip presses into your tiny hole, soft exhales leaving the two of you at the mere feeling. he wants nothing more than to plug you full, the nonexistent selfish part of his brain begging to roll his hips forward until his balls clap your ass.
even then, he can’t do that. caleb would rather let the world burn than inflict any pain on you. right now is the most vulnerable and open you’ve ever been with him, with anyone— he wasn’t going to make that a regret.
he reiterated time and time again leading up to this that tonight wouldn’t be the full length, just the tip. as much as he wanted to indulge fully, he wanted to savor all of this. work up to it, earn it. stupid caleb being considerate and sentimental, per usual.
“shit, how’s that?” he chokes down a groan, desperate to gauge your every thought. sometimes he wished he could crawl into your brain, see for himself what those thoughts flying in your head have to say. he knows that you often hold back around him and in a way, connecting like this plays into an effort to get you to open up. speak your mind more, let him nurture you. “how is it? don’t go quiet on me, please. not right now.”
it was hard to put into words how meaningful this all felt. sure, it was bound to be an emotional milestone for the two of you considering all of the history behind your relationship. it was going to reach this point of intimacy and cross those platonic lines eventually but living in the moment was much easier said than done. your body welcomes him rather fast, very warm and needy in the way your hole swallows up his tip with greed.
“i’m workin’ on it, caleb,” you hiss quietly, mewls leaving your trembling lips as the tips of your nails dig into the flesh of his biceps. they were built and big, caleb was a big boy— he could handle a little clawing. your mind was filled with fog, almost in shock that this was finally happening. “give me a minute.”
the scent of his shampoo, the same kind he had been using since high school, wafts into your face with the rushed nods he gives you. it fills you with nostalgia and plenty of love, being surrounded by his scent and being warmed by his heat. “it’s no rush, honey. you tell me when you’re ready.”
typical caleb. selfless in ways that make you want to shake him by his shoulders, always looking out for the better interest of you. it used to be annoying but the older the two of you grow, the more you learn to appreciate his overbearing tendencies. all he ever wanted was the best. comfort, security, safety. the thought helped your body naturally relax, pussy tightening up before letting go of some resistance.
he can feel it in real time, head falling forward to rest on the skin of your shoulder. nothing has ever felt so good and it almost winded him, the way you managed to surpass his years worth of fantasies and wet dreams. there’s a voice in the back of his head begging him to go all of the way. he’s learned plenty of self control throughout the years and he’d be damned if he let it falter now, of all times.
as soon as he felt a love tap to his arm, he knew what you were asking for. all it ever took was an exchanged look between the two of you, minds connected deeper than words could convey. he reels his hips back, tip nearly sliding out of your slick just to press the faintest bit back in.
he can practically feel your hesitance. as big of a game as you talk, there was simply no fooling the man who has grown by your side. even the subtlest shift in energy is something he can pick up on and caleb smells the reluctance in you, reading your body language like he was fluent. you were overthinking again.
“we’ll take baby steps, yeah?” he grunts quickly in reassurance, slowly gaining a rhythm, hands sliding down the length of your legs before curling around your ankles. he’s sweet in the way his thumb caresses your anklet, the gentlest of reminders that it’s just him. “you’ll fit me soon enough. just let it feel good. let me make you feel good like this.”
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sixeyesonathiel · 3 months ago
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WHEREVER YOU WANT IT, BABY, I’M TAKING YOU THERE!
↳ being married to gojo satoru means never knowing peace. or underwear.
4.4k words of domestic filth inspired from that one tiktok audio
cw: light degradation, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, food play (whipped cream, batter), dry humping, mild exhibitionism, marking (hickeys, biting), mild overstimulation, explicit language, 18+ only, minors DNI.
a/n : made a version with suguru for my bbg lyra here!
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ON THE COUCH.ᐟ
you’re sunk into the couch, legs tucked under the plush throw you’ve had since forever, the one satoru swears smells like your shampoo. the TV’s glow bathes the living room in soft blues, your favorite show’s theme song chiming through the speakers.
you’re halfway through a bowl of popcorn, kernels scattered on your lap, determined to actually watch this episode without your husband derailing you. it’s your comfort rewatch, the one you’ve seen enough times to recite the lines, but it still hits every time. you’re mid-bite when you feel him—satoru, your personal chaos agent, already sprawled across your lap like a cat who’s never heard of personal space.
his head’s nestled against your stomach, white hair a mess from where he’s been nuzzling into you, and you can feel the warmth of his breath through your—his—t-shirt, the one you stole years ago and never gave back. it’s loose, slipping off one shoulder, and his fingers are already sneaking under the hem, tracing lazy circles on your skin.
“baby,” he whines, voice low and syrupy, lips brushing just under your ribs, “you’ve seen this episode a million times. i haven’t been in your mouth once today.”
you don’t look at him, eyes glued to the screen, though you’re barely processing the dialogue. “you said you wanted to cuddle,” you mutter, popping another kernel in your mouth, trying to sound unbothered. your heart’s already picking up, traitorously aware of how his touch sparks heat under your skin.
“i am cuddling,” he insists, shifting so his body presses closer, one muscled thigh sliding between your legs, nudging them apart. you can feel the denim of his jeans through your thin shorts, rough against your inner thighs, and the warmth pooling low in your belly betrays you.
“just, y’know, with benefits.” he adds, his lips curling into a grin you don’t need to see, and he nips at the soft skin above your waistband, making you jolt.
“satoru,” you warn, but it’s weak, half-hearted, and he knows it. his hand slips higher under your shirt, fingers grazing the underside of your breast, thumb brushing just shy of where you want it. you shift, trying to focus on the TV, but he’s relentless, mouthing at your stomach now, slow, wet kisses that leave your skin tingling. “i’m watching.”
“watch, then,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble against your hip. he tugs your shorts down an inch, just enough to expose the lacy edge of your panties, and his lips find the sensitive spot right above. “don’t miss the good part, sweetheart.” his tone’s teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a hunger that makes your breath hitch.
he pulls you forward, guiding you to straddle his thigh, the sudden pressure of his leg against your core making you gasp. your hands grip the couch cushions, popcorn bowl tipping precariously, but he steadies it with a chuckle. “careful, baby. don’t waste snacks.”
his hand’s between your legs now, fingers brushing over your panties, slow and deliberate, feeling how you’re already soaking through. “fuck,” he breathes, almost to himself, eyes glinting up at you, blue and predatory in the TV’S light. “you’re this wet and still pretending you care about your show?”
he presses harder, circling your clit through the fabric, and you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan. the characters on screen are arguing, but it’s just noise now, drowned out by the thump of your pulse.
“shh,” he whispers, when a soft whimper escapes you, his free hand tugging the throw blanket over your lap. “can’t hear the dialogue.” he’s mocking you, smirking as he slips his fingers under your panties, grazing your slick folds.
you’re grinding against his thigh without meaning to, the friction of denim and his deliberate touches pushing you closer to the edge. every time you get too loud—a gasped “satoru”or a shaky moan—he leans up, kissing you sloppy to muffle the sound, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he’s claiming it.
“quiet, baby,” he teases, pulling back to nip your bottom lip. “you’re drownin’ out the plot.”
you’re a mess already, shorts bunched around your thighs, panties pushed to the side, and he’s barely touched you. the blanket’s slipping, and he grabs it, draping it over your shoulders with a grin.
“perfect,” he says, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “you love this thing, don’t you? let’s put it to good use.” he shoves it against your mouth, pressing it there as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them deep. your muffled cry vibrates into the fabric, and he laughs, low and filthy. “fits, doesn’t it? you and your cozy shit.”
you’re trembling, thighs shaking as he works you, his thigh still pressed against you, encouraging the desperate roll of your hips. the TV’S forgotten, just a blur of colors and sounds, but he’s not done playing.
“eyes on the screen,” he orders, free hand gripping your chin to turn your head. “this is your favorite part, right? where they confess or whatever?” you can’t answer, too lost in the stretch of his fingers, the way he’s dragging you toward release. your moans are louder now, barely stifled by the blanket, and he pulls it away, tossing it aside. “fuck it,” he growls, “i wanna hear you.”
he’s bored of teasing, you can tell, because he’s moving fast now, yanking your shorts and panties down completely, leaving them tangled around one ankle.
“over the table,” he says, voice rough, and before you can process, he’s got you bent over the coffee table, popcorn bowl knocked to the floor, kernels crunching under his feet. your hands brace against the wood, cool against your flushed skin, and he’s behind you, jeans unzipped, pressing into you in one slow, deep thrust that makes you sob.
“fuck, baby,” he groans, hands gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise. “you feel so good.” the table creaks with every snap of his hips, the tv still blaring behind you, your favorite character’s voice a mocking backdrop to the way he’s ruining you. he leans forward, chest against your back, and grabs your chin again, forcing you to look at the screen. “don’t tap out now,” he pants, thrusting harder, “this is your comfort episode, right?”
you’re crying now, tears of pleasure and overwhelm streaking your cheeks, your body shaking as he drives you toward the edge. every thrust is deliberate, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and his voice is a constant stream of filth “love how you take me,” “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” “gonna make you come so hard you forget this stupid show.”
you’re incoherent, babbling his name, nails scratching at the table as your orgasm hits, a white-hot wave that leaves you trembling, clenching around him.
he’s not far behind, groaning your name as he spills inside you, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last shudder from you. when he finally pulls out, you’re a wreck, collapsing against the table, panties still dangling off one ankle, tears smudging your mascara. he’s laughing, breathless, pulling you back onto the couch and into his lap, the throw blanket draped over you both like nothing happened.
“c’mere,” he murmurs, softer now, kissing your temple as he grabs the remote. he rewinds the episode, smirking as he feeds you a piece of popcorn and you’re too blissed out to do anything else but chew.
“guess we both got our favorites tonight,” he says, voice smug but warm, his arm tight around you. your legs are still shaking, and you nuzzle into his chest, the theme song starting again as you mumble something about hating him. he just laughs, kissing your hair, and you know you’re in for it all over again tomorrow.
IN THE BED.ᐟ
you’re drifting in that hazy space between sleep and waking, the kind where the world feels soft and warm, like you’re cocooned in a dream you don’t want to leave. the sheets are tangled around your legs, your tank top rucked up from tossing in the night, and you’re vaguely aware of the faint morning light slipping through the curtains.
but then you feel it—satoru’s weight shifting behind you, the mattress dipping as he presses closer, his bare chest warm against your back. his breath ghosts over your neck, slow and deliberate, and you know he’s been awake for a while, just waiting for you to stir.
his arm’s already slung over your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, possessive but gentle, like he’s anchoring you to him. you feel him, hard and insistent, grinding lazily between your thighs, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to dull the heat. “mm,” he hums, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice thick with sleep and something hungrier.
“good morning, wife.” his words are soft, but there’s that edge to them, the one that makes your heart stutter even half-asleep.
you groan, burrowing your face into the pillow, the cool cotton a brief escape from his intensity. “satoru, it’s too early,” you mumble, voice muffled, though you’re already shifting back against him, instinctive, your body betraying your weak protest.
he only chuckles low, vibrating against your spine, and he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, slow and wet, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.
“never too early for you, angel,” he murmurs, his hand sliding under your tank top, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then higher, cupping your breast with a reverence that feels almost too sweet for him. his thumb grazes your nipple, teasing it to a peak, and you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering open despite yourself.
“been dreamin’ about you,” he says, kissing down your shoulder now, each press of his lips a deliberate worship. “couldn’t help myself.”
“you’re so creepy,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it, just a sleepy laugh as you turn your head to peek at him.
he’s already staring, blue eyes soft and molten in the dim light, his white hair a tousled halo against the pillow. he’s grinning, that lovesick, idiot grin that makes your chest ache, and you can’t help but reach back, fingers tangling in his hair. “watching me sleep again?”
“guilty,” he admits, not even pretending to be ashamed. he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can lean over you, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. thank you for marryin’ me.” his voice cracks a little, like he means it too much, and you’re torn between rolling your eyes and melting completely.
“sappy idiot,” you whisper, but you’re smiling, pulling him closer until his lips find yours, soft and unhurried, all morning haze and warmth. t
he kiss deepens, his tongue slipping against yours, and you feel his hand slide lower, tugging your panties down just enough to press his fingers between your thighs. you gasp into his mouth, and he swallows it, murmuring, “shh, let me say good morning properly.”
it’s slow at first, all lazy touches and quiet gasps, his fingers circling your clit with a patience that’s rare for him. you’re still half-draped in sleep, your moans muffled against the pillow as he works you open, his lips trailing down your spine, leaving a constellation of hickeys where your neck meets your shoulder.
“mine,” he whispers, over and over, like a prayer, each word punctuated by a kiss, a nip, a mark that says you’re his. you’re soaking now, hips rocking against his hand, and he groans, low and needy, grinding harder against your thigh.
“satoru,” you breathe, voice shaky, and he hums, pleased, flipping you onto your back with a gentleness that makes your heart flip. you blink up at him, and he’s a vision—hair messy, eyes glowing with something too tender, too raw.
“wanna see your face, angel,” he says, grinning as he leans down, kissing your forehead, then your eyelids, then your lips again, like he can’t get enough. his fingers are still moving, slow and deliberate, and you’re trembling, legs spreading wider to give him more.
he pulls back just enough to tug your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere in the sheets, and you’re bare beneath him, tank top pushed up to expose your stomach. he kisses lower, lips grazing your navel, then the soft skin just above your core, his tongue tracing the outline of your ring finger where your wedding band glints in the light.
“fuck, i love this,” he murmurs, sucking gently on the digit, his eyes locked on yours. “love you.”
you’re a mess already, whining when he settles between your thighs, his breath hot against your slick folds. he doesn’t tease for once, just dives in, tongue lapping at you like he’s starving, and you cry out, hands fisting in his hair.
he’s relentless, sucking and licking until you’re bucking against his face, and he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.
“taste so good,” he pants, pulling back just to spit on you, watching it drip before diving back in, and you’re sobbing, the pleasure too much, too perfect.
when you’re close, he crawls back up, kissing you sloppy so you taste yourself on his tongue, and you feel him nudge against you, hard and leaking. “ready, baby?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, and you nod, breathless, wrapping your legs around his waist.
he slides in slow, inch by inch, and you both groan, the stretch so good it makes your toes curl. he’s deep, filling you completely, and he stills, just for a moment, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours.
“love you,” he says again, thrusting slow and deep, his hand finding yours, fingers interlacing. your ring glints between your joined hands, and he kisses it, then you, his eyes never leaving yours. it’s intense, the kind of eye contact that strips you bare, and you’re both pathetic, gasping messes, your nails digging into his back as he moves. “you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice breaking, “my wife, my everything.”
you’re coming before you realize it, a slow, rolling wave that has you clinging to him, sobbing his name, and he’s right behind you, groaning into your neck as he spills inside, his thrusts stuttering. e
he doesn’t pull out, just stays there, buried deep, his weight grounding you as you both catch your breath.
he nuzzles into your hair, rubbing slow circles on your back, and murmurs, “five more minutes. need to be home a little longer.”
you hum, content, your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. the sheets are a mess, your tank top’s somewhere around your collarbone, and you can feel him softening inside you, but neither of you moves. he’s drawing lazy patterns on your hip, whispering how much he loves being married to you, and you’re grinning, too in love to care about the morning chill or the fact that you’ll need to wash these sheets later.
“you’re such an idiot,” you mumble, kissing his chest, and he laughs, soft and warm, pulling you closer like he’ll never let go.
ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER.ᐟ
you’re in the zone, apron tied loosely around your waist, the kitchen alive with the hum of your favorite pop playlist—satoru’s insistence that it’s “our jam” still makes you laugh. flour dusts your hands, the air sweet with vanilla and sugar as you whisk pancake batter, the morning light streaming through the window.
you’re flipping a pancake, singing off-key to some cheesy chorus, when you feel him—satoru, your walking disaster, sneaking up behind you. his arms snake around your waist, firm chest pressing against your back, and his chin rests on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck.
“baby,” he purrs, voice low and playful, lips grazing your ear, “you’re too sexy in this apron. makes me wanna eat you instead.” his hands slide under the fabric, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts, and you feel him, already hard, grinding subtly against your ass.
you snort, not turning around, focusing on the skillet. “you ate an hour ago,” you say, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your spine. you flip the pancake, the sizzle masking the hitch in your breath as his fingers dip just under your waistband, tracing the skin there.
“not talkin’ about food,” he murmurs, licking a smear of batter off your cheek, slow and deliberate, his tongue warm and teasing.
you swat at him with the spatula, half-laughing, but it’s shaky, your body already betraying you. “satoru, i’m cooking!” you protest, but he’s undeterred, hands slipping lower, tugging your shorts down an inch to expose the lacy edge of your panties.
“and i’m starvin’,” he whines, dramatic as ever, but there’s a growl beneath it, hungry and raw. before you can argue, he’s lifting you onto the counter, effortless, like you weigh nothing. the mixing bowl wobbles, batter sloshing, and you grip his shoulders, flour-covered hands leaving white prints on his black t-shirt.
“satoru, the pancakes—” you start, but he’s already between your legs, spreading them with a nudge of his hips, his grin wicked.
“fuck the pancakes,” he says, grabbing the whipped cream can from the fridge, shaking it with a flourish. “gonna taste-test my favorite dessert.” he sprays a messy heart on your inner thigh, the cold cream making you gasp, and you laugh, shoving at his chest, but it turns into a moan as he leans down, licking it clean, his tongue slow and filthy, eyes locked on yours.
“satoru, you’re wasting it!” you scold, but your voice cracks, your hands tangling in his hair as he nips at the sensitive skin.
“waste?” he scoffs, pulling back to lick a stripe of batter off your finger, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan. “this is art.” he tugs your shorts and panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them off, and dives in, mouth hot and relentless against your core.
you cry out, head tipping back, the counter hard under you as you grip the edge, knocking over a measuring cup. flour scatters across the surface, and he’s moaning into you, like he’s the one getting off, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that makes your thighs shake.
“fuck, you taste better than anything,” he pants, pulling back just to spit on you, watching it drip before diving back in, his fingers joining now, two sliding inside you, curling deep. you’re a mess, gasping his name, your apron bunched around your waist, flour smudged on your thighs where his hands grip you.
he grabs the whipped cream again, spraying a dollop right above your clit, and licks it off with a filthy moan, the cold cream and his warm tongue a dizzying contrast that has you bucking against his face.
you’re close already, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, but he’s not done playing. he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grabs a spoonful of batter from the bowl, smearing it across your collarbone. “messy girl,” he teases, leaning in to lick it off, his teeth grazing your skin.
you’re whining, desperate, pulling at his shirt, and he finally gives in, unzipping his jeans and pushing inside you in one swift thrust, the stretch making you sob. the spatula clatters to the floor, and you’re clutching his shoulders, nails digging in as he moves, fast and deep, the counter creaking under you.
“mm, let’s make every mornin’ cream-filled,” he groans, licking more batter off your neck, his thrusts relentless, knocking measuring spoons and a bag of sugar to the floor. you’re incoherent, babbling his name, your legs wrapped around his waist as he drives you higher.
“so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he murmurs, grabbing your hand, sucking the flour off your fingers as he fucks you, his other hand circling your clit until you’re screaming, the orgasm hitting hard, your body shaking, clenching around him.
he’s right behind you, groaning your name as he spills inside, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last shudder. the oven beeps, shrill and insistent, but neither of you cares, too caught up in the messy, blissful aftermath.
you’re panting, slumped against him, the counter sticky with flour, cream, and batter, your apron a crumpled mess. he’s laughing, breathless, kissing you sloppy, his hands still roaming like he can’t stop touching you.
“fair trade,” he says, eyeing the skillet where the pancakes are charred to a crisp. you smack his chest, breathless, muttering, “you’re cleaning this.” he just grins, licking a stray bit of whipped cream off your neck, and says, “worth it.” you’re both giggling, feeding each other burnt pancake scraps, flour still smudged on his cheek, and you know the kitchen’s a disaster, but your marriage is thriving, sticky and sweet as the mess you’ve made.
ON THE STAIRS.ᐟ
you’re halfway up the stairs, each step creaking under your furious pace, the crumpled receipt in your hand like a smoking gun. “satoru, three hundred dollars on towels?” you snap, whirling around to glare at him, your voice echoing in the narrow stairwell. “towels? we have lights! electricity! a mortgage to pay!”
he’s trailing behind, hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets, looking infuriatingly unbothered. his white hair catches the dim glow of the hallway light, and that stupid, lopsided grin is already curling his lips.
“they’re plush, baby,” he says, shrugging like he didn’t just blow a small fortune. “like you. thought it’d be romantic.” his blue eyes glint, teasing, and you can tell he’s not taking this seriously, which only makes your blood boil more.
“romantic?” you hiss, gripping the banister so hard your knuckles whiten. “we could’ve bought a new couch! or, i don’t know, groceries for a month?” you wave the receipt in his face, and he has the audacity to lean forward, squinting at it like it’s a museum exhibit. “you’re impossible!”
he steps closer, one stair below you, towering over you despite the height difference. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he drawls, voice dropping low, “you married a brat. you knew what you were gettin’ into.” his hand darts out, grabbing your ankle, and before you can react, he tugs you down a step, making you stumble into him.
“satoru!” you squeal, clutching his shoulders to keep from falling, the receipt fluttering to the floor.
“what?” he says, all mock innocence, but his hands are already sliding up your calves, rough and warm, stopping just under the hem of your shirt. “you’re cute when you’re mad.” he’s grinning now, full-on, and you want to smack him, but his chest is pressed against yours, and you can feel his heartbeat, steady and maddeningly calm.
“come here and spank me about it, then,” he murmurs, leaning in, lips brushing your jaw.
“you’re not gettin’ outta this,” you mutter, but your resolve’s crumbling, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate. your hands betray you, tangling in his hair, and he hums, pleased, nipping at your collarbone. “i’m serious, satoru—”
“so am i,” he growls, and suddenly he’s kissing you, hard and sloppy, backing you up against the railing until it digs into your spine. the stairwell’s narrow, the steps uneven under your feet, but he’s got you pinned, one hand hiking up your shirt, the other tugging your panties down just enough to bare you. “let’s see how mad you really are,” he says, pulling back to smirk, his fingers brushing between your thighs, finding you already wet. “oh, baby, really mad, huh?”
you groan, half in frustration, half in need, and he takes that as permission, lifting your leg to hook it over the next step up, the angle opening you to him. “satoru, we’re on the stairs,” you hiss, but it’s weak, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fumbles with his sweatpants, freeing himself. he’s hard, leaking, and when he presses against you, you both moan, the sound echoing in the tight space.
“fuck, you’re so perfect,” he groans, pushing in deep, one rough thrust that makes you cry out, your head tipping back against the wall.
the railing’s creaking, the stairs shifting under his weight, but he’s relentless, fast and feral, each snap of his hips driving you higher. “say you forgive me,” he growls, biting your neck, his teeth sharp enough to leave a mark. you’re sobbing, swearing at him—“you’re such an idiot”—but your body’s begging for more, hips rocking to meet his.
“never,” you gasp, but it’s a lie, and he knows it, laughing breathlessly as he sucks on your fingers, moaning around them like they’re candy.
“fuck, you’re so wet,” he pants, his pace brutal, the sound of skin on skin loud enough to drown out your protests. you claw at his back, still muttering about the towels, but it’s incoherent now, lost in the haze of him filling you, stretching you, owning you.
when you come, it’s with a scream, your body shaking, clenching around him so tight he curses, his thrusts stuttering as he follows, spilling inside you with a groaned “fuck, baby.”
you’re trembling, barely holding onto the railing, and he’s not done, his fingers slipping between your legs again, circling your oversensitive clit. “still mad?” he murmurs, smirking, and you hiss, “yes,” but your voice breaks, your legs wobbling as he keeps teasing, pushing you toward another edge.
“liar,” he laughs, kissing you soft now, a contrast to the chaos of before. you’re a wreck, panties tangled around one ankle, shirt rucked up, and he’s still grinning, like he’s won the lottery.
you try to step up, legs shaky, but you stumble, and he catches you, scooping you up bridal-style. “told you the towela were worth it,” he says, carrying you toward the bedroom.
you smack his chest, muttering about the mess on the stairs, but he just kisses your forehead, tossing you onto the bed with a, “round two for the towel tax?”
you’re too spent to argue, pulling him down for more, the receipt forgotten on the stairwell floor, your marriage as chaotic and perfect as ever.
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nanamiskentos · 5 months ago
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❛ ㅤ𖥔 ─── EXTRA-L (五条悟, 𝓖𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔)
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𝓐𝖡𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳 ─ when gojo tries to talk you through it, but it makes him cum first instead 🤷
( 1.4k )ㅤ。⠀呪術廻戦 ㅤ& MDNI. ✶ afab!reader, established relationship, práise kínk, crèampíe, máting prèss, inappropriate use of jujutsu
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"heh, are you close?" gojo teeters, his large hand cupped underneath the soft, flushed arch of your neck. he's reached that stage of the night where he's getting far too cocky, his powerful, broad thighs not even breaking an ounce sweat, not even as skin slaps against skin.
bright, searing blue cuts through the darkness of the bedroom, and you have no doubt he's using a copious amount of reversed cursed energy to keep him going. gojo's doing a pretty decent job of holding out for the big finish.
the big finish in you that is. for the very thought of filling you up with thick, spurting loads makes gojo shake, quiver even, a whine slipping from his glossy, pink-stung mouth.
you can feel the ache in your stretched limbs, for the sensation is pulsing and throbbing from the mean mating press that gojo's got you in. his washboard, sculpted abdomen is pressed right up against you where you're certain that the print of his muscles will leave a mark. and the curled thatch of silvery-white hairs is tacking right up against your mound, drenched in the sticky slick that you've released, four times no less.
"dunno' if i can do it a-another time, 'toru," you're whining, gasping as gojo shifts the bulk of his body weight deeper against your bare torso. he's making sure to hit that sweet, sweet spot at this filthy angle, thick tip rummaging and swabbing through your gummy walls. but surely, gojo must be close now, for you feel the thin, weeping cries of precum slip out of you and onto the damp sheets. pooled onto the inner, plush flesh of your thighs.
"sweetheart, c'mon," gojo nudges your thighs further apart, slotting his broad form so perfectly in that gap that he adores the most, "i know you can, 'm gonna' make it real good this time." leaving adoring, laving kisses over your collarbone, complete with small, pink petals that bloom after his lips pop! away.
"jus' so big, i can feel you allll in me," you moan, lips parting as small ah! ah! ah! begins punctuating the cool night air. it's sort of the magic formula, you see. praising gojo, and lavishing him with many a sincere compliment.
you learned long ago that gojo loves to hear how much you love him, especially during lovemaking. particularly when he's doing his level best to plough himself right through you, determined to have every thick-veined inch of his cock kiss you.
you hear a little, pussydrunk giggle from the man above you. ridiculously long lashes fluttering against creamy, flushed skin as gojo sighs, content as he's determined to delve further into your heat, to have you as close to him as possible, "y-yeah? that big?"
slap! slap! slap!
once, you may have burned, or been embarrassed at the soaked, sloppy sounds of your cunt leaking like a faucet around gojo's thick shaft. to be mildly conscious of how your translucent shine had been coating every inch of his cock ever since he bottomed out in you with a groaned pop!
but frankly, you had been with him for so long — by now, the man had manoeuvred you into every position possible, and you knew nothing made him pick up the pace or turned him on more than the sticky encouragement of his second favourite girl in the entire world.
"hahh, 'toru, why?" your walls suddenly clench, desparate hips bucking up to kiss his. whining at the disappointment of the quick empty sensation that takes over when gojo's gripping the base of his cock, gently sliding his shaft out that glistens with all that tender love and care.
gojo just chuckles, pressing a delicate and feather-light kiss upon your waiting lips, quelling your soft gripes. "be patient now, pretty. just gonna, yeah –" he's jostling your thighs now, quietly stretching out the stiff limbs so he can press another kiss to the inner corner of your ankle, setting both legs over his wide shoulders, "jus' gonna change the angle. gonna' get you through this next one, that alright?"
frankly, the angle is a welcome change for your smarting hamstrings so you nod, hoping that he gets a move on and presses right up against, and into you asap.
gojo seems to be just as impatient as you are, but he's holding up beautifully despite not having released himself once tonight. he often gets like this, so determined to have you fall apart for him as many times as possible before he flushes, and groans, and spills into you.
"heh, 'm pretty girl, isn't that right?" gojo's admiring you blatantly, electric-blue eyes roving over your form, six eyes vying to find that sweet spot once more, "now 'm just gonna put it innnnn, jus' like. that."
and the stretch is delicious, and oh! the way that the weeping, hot tip swipes against your clit, sloppily dragging through your folds before he's pushing past the first ring of quivering muscle.
"you can take it right? can take alll of me, can'tcha?" gojo's cooing, slapping his hips (and well, his heavy balls) against the fat of your ass, and he hardly seems bothered by the messy strands of arousal that string back, fragile and yet so loud. this angle is truly mind-numbing, for his cock is rubbing right against every sweet spot possible, and your legs are already begin to quake once more, knowing exactly what's around the corner.
"oouh, yer' doing great, just breathe for me, sweetheart," gojo murmurs, his muscled torso flexin' so deliciously in the pale, filtered light of the moon refracting through the half-open windows, "now 'm just gonna' angle ya' like this."
gojo's got a thick hand on the underside of your thigh, pushing it to the edge of his shoulder so the angle is wide open and he can watch every delicious movement of his cock into your weeping cunt, to admire how your folds throb and tense, with slick drenching down the sheets. "y'look c-close, pretty, i mean — look at how she's ready to give me another show." tapping his chin in faux thought, licking a strand of your glossy arousal off his slender fingers, "wonder if you're gon' squirt this time."
it seems that gojo satoru simply cannot shut up, but you've always known how much he loves to run his mouth.
especially when he's balls-deep in you, circling his hips to make sure that he's hitting every sensitive spot possible to make the both of you see stars, "see, look at that, 'm thinkin' that this —" gojo wetly slaps the pads of his fingers against your aching, sensitive clit, watching the drowned slosh smear over your thighs, "this is gonna make you cu — ohh, fuck, fuck!"
you suppose that it will be lost to the ages as to what exactly gojo satoru was going to say, and many will wonder how he was going to finish that sentence (although, those of us with two brain cells to rub together can hazard a guess).
but he never quite gets those words out, suddenly squeezing his eyes tight shut, so soft lashes imprint on his under-eyes. a red-hot flush suddenly climbing up his alabaster neck, as his hips buck and quiver, stuttering as hot, thick and opaque seed splurges right up in you, enough that you tense your thighs as creamy drops spill right out, "fuck, 'm feeling dizzy — s'so good, hah." gojo's whining and panting, still keeping a bruising grip on your thighs, but he's determined that not even a single drop goes to waste.
when he pulls himself together once more, what a sight, for gojo's jaw is still slack, crystalline tears pooling at the corners of his lashes as he shudders, the most powerful man currently walking the earth has come undone. but he's never one to leave your momentum interrupted, grinning with that fang-ridden, shark-like grin as he pulls your body down the bed, even close to him so your arousal and his cum pool together and stick between the two of you, "how 'bout best of, uhh. . .nine?"
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dmitriene · 5 months ago
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cw: hybrids, breeding, glimpses of consented somnophilia.
bear hybrid john price gets you to hibernate with him, it's not that there's much choice, of course, you wouldn't be wandering around the house and outside much when your spouse is sleeping away, tucked in the warm bed with all the furs and copious pillows, all arranged around him with comfortable softness, yet, he misses the most important, you, and he won't be willing to start his hibernation until you join him.
sure, it's not an easy thing, to match his sleepiness while you're not used to go through such a thing as a human, but your bear spouse will get you all cozied against his side, cradled in a crushing, squishing embrace against the brawny, sculpted plains of his softened chest, dappled in curling, brown thick hairs, coating every ounce of john's skin, his huge pecs, bulky, meaty thighs, the roughened fingers, fluffy as fur, warming you like a furnace, mapping a trail to beneath his underbelly and down to the groin.
you keep the fridge and all the shelves stocked with a lots of food of all kinds, to freshly cooked to something quick to make, and even canned, meats, vegetables, fruits, john needs a good nourishment, and you're too, because he doesn't let's you leave the bed, not with how his heavy body brackets your's against the rumpled, cottony sheets, not a single cloth separating his scarred, supple skin from yours, kindled with suffocating, simmering warmth, holding you close tight, broad fingers sinking in the slopes and dips of your body.
john doesn't wakes up mid hibernation to eat, doesn't really needs it, just as the rest of his kind, no, he flutters his pretty blues groggily and rubs a calloused palm over his bearded, prickly face to get a taste of you, dozed in a light sleep beneath his draping hand, your face pillowed on his bicep, pretty lips pouty, cheeks warm and rounded, flattened against his arm, and your ripe, sweet body is all naked in it's glory, splayed along the linens beneath, relaxed and leaning in the closeness between you both, cunt hidden between the sacred gates of your supple thighs.
the hot, gummy insides of your cunt heavenly around the pulsing, restless girth of his fat cock, dragging in the engulfing tightness of your soppy hole, getting you stretched out and loose to accommodate the thickening length of him, filling you slow and deep, patient, almost lazily so, movements languid as he pushes his wide hips, body bowing and draping over your whole form, cozy and limbless, even though you moan out quiet and groggy when you feel it, the weight of his cock alongside your tender, inner walls.
kissing away each keen and breathy whimper, devouring them eagerly, leaving your lush, kissable lips to nip and suck over the tantalizing curve of your neck as your head tilts back, eyelashes fluttering with the heavy closing eyes, your nails scrabbling over the tensing, rippling lines of his back, seeking purchase, clawing and scratching with crescent dents, your trembling body chasing the withdrawing movements of his hips, the battering ram of his cock, coercing for more, feeling the delicious dizziness that comes from the burning feeling that swoops up the length of your bowing spine.
the curve of john's tip butting against your gummy spot, withdrawing, pressing back, relishing in the gripping clutch of your sloppy, loose hole, your sensitive skin a feverish garden of different marks and bruises, sharp teeth's that leave blood rushing indents up your neck and covering over the rapidly hammering pulse point, the rasp of his beard still tangible, making you shudder, whole body itchy from where he rubs over you, but you keep in place, singing pleasure honeyed sounds, coaxing john for more, so as to feel the way he'd breed you.
groping and pressing in every nook and cranny of your form, forcing you into the mattress, nails biting and almost tearing in your flesh, followed by each bestial, guttural groan and rasp he let's out, gravelly, seeming to shake the stuffy air around you both, your little sounds turning in the pitched, frequently repeating gasps, the saucers of john's pupils bewitching in their intensity, enraptured as they look at you with animalistic affection, right until he get's you full with spurt after spurt of his fertile seed.
john makes sure to keep you plugged full, sated just as he is, with his cum making your tummy feel bloated, pumped inside your gaping, still spasming pussy until his seed would stop gushing out in milky streaks around his softening cock, each drop cherished, oughting to see your belly grown round and full with little cubs by the end of the winter, and tucking you back to the side, where you both drown back beneath the veil of sleep, nuzzling in your forehead, he hopes it would take.
main masterlist. quidelines.
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thanoskin · 6 months ago
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you belong to me
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Pairing: Frontman x Reader
Summary: you’re the daughter of a volatile VIP, you draw the frontman’s attention during your visit to the games.
Warning: Smut (+18), Rough sex, Degradation kink, Age gap, Fingering, Dom! Frontman, Sub! Reader, vaginal fluids, overstimulation, Pussy slapping, Unprotected sex, no aftercare.
Word count: 1519 words.
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The air was heavy with the scent of luxury-imported cigars, fine leather, and expensive cologne. You sat on a lavish velvet couch in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of champagne that had gone warm in your hand. Around you, the other VIPs laughed and cheered as they watched the carnage unfold on the massive screen before them.
Your father, one of the most notorious and impulsive of the VIPs, sat at the head of the room, reveling in the chaos below. His booming laughter grated against your nerves, but you kept your expression neutral. You'd learned long ago how dangerous it was to show any weakness around him.
Still, the games didn't hold your interest. Not like they did for him. Your attention drifted instead to the enigmatic figure known as the Front Man, the creator of the games.
He was always there, silent, observing, his black mask concealing his face but not the sharp intelligence in his movements. You'd caught him watching you more than once, and though he never said a word, you felt the weight of his gaze.
Tonight was no different.
You glanced up, and there he was, standing at the edge of the room, his posture rigid, his presence commanding. Even surrounded by the chaos of the VIPs, he seemed untouchable, untamed.
Hours later, it was finally lights out.The VIPs eventually retreated to their private quarters, leaving you alone in the grand lounge, your father was too drunk to notice you were still around. The silence was a relief after the overwhelming noise, but it didn't last long.
"You shouldn't be here alone."
"I'm not afraid of being alone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.
He stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the marble floor. "You should be."
You raised an eyebrow, meeting the dark void of his mask. "Is that a warning?"
"It's a fact," he said, stopping just a few feet away.
"Your father isn't the only dangerous man here."
You set your glass down, leaning back against the couch. "I think I'll take my chances."
The Front Man tilted his head, studying you. "You're not like the others," he murmured.
"No," you said, your lips curving into a faint smile. "I'm not."
He didn't respond, but the weight of his gaze was palpable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence crackling.
"What do you want from me?" you asked finally, breaking the stillness.
The Front Man stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "What makes you think I want something?"
You stood, closing the distance between you.
"Because men like you don't get involved unless there's something in it for them."
He chuckled softly, the sound distorted through his mask. "Maybe you're right."
His hand came up, the black leather of his glove brushing against your cheek.
The touch was surprisingly gentle, and it made your inner thighs warm.
"Careful.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his other hand slid to your waist, drawing you closer. His mask pressed against your forehead, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you both.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
You didn't. Instead, your fingers moved to the edge of his mask, your breath hitching as he allowed you to lift it just enough to see his lips.
The kiss was slow at first, testing, but it quickly deepened. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved against yours. The weight of his mask and the secrecy of the moment only heightened the intensity.
He pulled back, his breathing uneven, his voice rough. "My quarters. Now."
The room was stark, utilitarian, a sharp contrast to the opulence of the VIP lounge. But it didn't matter. The moment the door closed behind you, he was on you, his mask discarded, his lips capturing yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.
You clung to him as he backed you against the wall, his hands exploring, his touch possessive yet careful, as if he were afraid you might vanish.
"You don't belong here," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw.
"Neither do you," you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as he chuckled at your innocence.
His lips trailed down your neck as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, and he gripped your ass, hard, causing you to gasp in surprise.
Suddenly, he lifted you by your hips and tossed you on the bed, not giving you a chance to breathe as he crawled on top of you like a predator hunting its prey. You were face to face with him now.
He slowly pulled off his mask to reveal an older, handsome man with dark and determined eyes. You kissed him deeply, almost savagely, he let you for a couple of minutes before placing his hand on your throat, pinning you beneath him.
You whined softly, your breaths ragged as you adapted to his strong grip. He let you go, his hands now roaming over the thin fabric of your dress, and tracing over your hard nipples.
“You’re not wearing a bra…” he whispered teasingly, and you blushed as he removed your dress.
He stared at your naked body, ignoring your horny whimpers as he ran his hand through your wet folds. You moaned softly as his thumb grazed over your clit. He smirked teasingly and began to use slight pressure as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on your sensitive ball of nerves.
You moan and writhe, attempting to close your legs from the pressure. Suddenly, you feel two cold fingers enter your aching hole, and you gasp in surprise.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
He asks, his gaze curious and intense, causing you to look away.
“Answer me when I speak to you.”
You feel his fingers curl against that spongy spot, and you cry out.
“Yes! Please don’t stop..” you begin to squirm, moaning uncontrollably as he continues to curl and thrust his fingers into your virgin hole.
You dig your nails into his back and start to get louder and louder, your moans desperate, and your pussy soaking wet.
Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out and begins to remove his belt, staring at your sprawled and exposed form.
“I need your cock please.” You murmur, and he doesn’t reply, he tosses his belt on the far end of the room and removes his pants and underwear, crawling towards you again. His cock wasn’t too big, but wasn’t too small either.
You found yourself terrified, but your arousal only grew as you stared at his hard, throbbing cock.
He roughly grabs your thighs, spreading them wide, digging his nails into your sensitive skin, causing you to whine.
You closed your eyes and he immediately pinched your inner thigh.
“Open.”
Your eyes flew open at his command, and you whine as you feel his tip against your throbbing clit.
“Look at me while I take you.”
you obeyed, he began to enter you, and you hissed and cried out from the pain. He didn’t respond, but you were grateful for his patience, and his gentle touches as he stroked your legs while he broke you in.
Suddenly, he hit a spot, causing you to moan loudly. He began to thrust quickly, causing you to moan uncontrollably.
“oh fuck!” You cried and used your free hands to try and push his shoulders, desperatey feeling the need to cum already.
he growled and pinned your hands above your head, his strong hands nearly breaking your wrists as you moaned loudly and sobbed.
“Look at me!” He shouted, he was panting, his eyes locked into yours as he fucked you mercilessly.
“I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, trying to close your legs.
“Don’t you fucking….”
you squirted all over his cock, and he stopped moving inside of you. He sighed and pulled out, and you’re rewarded with a harsh slap to your clit.
“You cum when I tell you to, not a moment before that. Understood?”
You cry and before you can respond, he enters you again, pinching your sensitive nipples and tugging the skin as he fucked you hard, and fast.
“Fuck…” he whispered, before pulling out and panting.
He yanks your legs apart again, only to rub your throbbing clit, with force and speed.
You’re overstimulated, and on the brink of cumming.
“Please, let me…” you cried and moaned.
“Come on, squirt all over my fucking hand.”
You squirted hard and he groaned in delight as you coat his fingers in your juices.
“Such a good little…”
He groaned again, kissing your thighs. You’re exhausted and sore, you lay limp and spent, your eyelids suddenly heavy, and before you knew it, you hear the rustling of his clothing being put back on, and the door closed behind him.
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