#chris+evans+x+henry+cavill+x+reader

[xdirtyxlittlexgirl]

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is with uncontainable delight that I proclaim my return to the social scene! With sharpened quills and plenty promts, I stand prepared to weave tales that will enthrall even the most discerning of you.

Whether it be the likes of dashing Henry Cavill, Chris Evans, or Armie Hammer, or the mystical realms of The Witcher, The Vampire Diaries, or the scintillating escapades of our very own Bridgerton, no stone shall be left unturned.

So to keep the tea spilling, I implore you, esteemed readers, to submit your most imaginatively wild plots and prompts and remember, in the world of Lady X, the pen is mightier than the sword, and I am armed and ready.

Yours Most Sincerely,

Lady X

[nofingjustaninchident]

older men do it better

[boypied]

STUFFING [thanksgiving special]

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans.

summary: his father’s best friends; chris and henry, visit for thanksgiving dinner, and at the end, the readers' fathers get drunk and passes out. Leaving the reader, Chris, and Henry to get down and dirty.

requested by: @dangerousstrawberryshark

word count: 1,081

warnings: threesome, anal sex, double penetration, dirty talk, praising.

It's that time of year again, the time of year when your dad invites all of his hot dilf-y friends round for Thanksgiving. You try to make small talk, but the majority of them just kind of ignore you or actually just don't hear you because of how quiet and timid your voice is when they're round. Except something is different this year. Your dad only invited two of his friends round, and they've never been round for Thanksgiving before, which is strange because they get invited pretty much every year.

"Henry! Chris! Come in, come in" your hear your dad shout out from upstairs as you see two cars park in your driveway, you slowly make your way downstairs and you turn the corner to be met by two greek fucking gods. Perfectly chiselled jawlines, your mouth gaped open practically drooling over them right before their very eyes. You slowly wipes your mouth and walk closer to them "H-Hey" you say quiet and timidly as you face them both, "This is my son" your dad says introducing you to them.

"Don't worry he does have a life even though he still lives at home at twenty-five" you dad's snarky comment causes you to roll your eyes as you smile softly at them as you walk past them and into the dining room where all the food is set up. You keep mumbling things under your breath as your dad embarrassed you in front of the two hot dilfs, "so what if I still live at home at twenty-five" you mumble to yourself as you place the knives and forks down at the table.

"You guys didn't need to dress up" you hear your dad's loud booming voice echo from the hallway all the way into the dining room, after them chatting in the hallway for about ten minutes they all finally make there way into the dining room taking their seats. Your dad is at the head of the table and your next to him whereas Chris and Henry are on the opposite side to you, "I'll be back, I need to go serve up dinner" your dad says as he places his napkin down and he walks out of the dining room leaving you alone with the two hot men.

The awkward silence was deafening, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them. You wanted them. The way their suits clung onto their bodies was proof of how they must be muscular, and you wanted to see their sexy body's as they pounded into you. Fuck..you could dream. Your dad strutted in with plates of food, placing them all down, and you started to eat. Even though you were eating, you were watching Chris and Henry, the way the forks filled with food were placed into their wet mouths.

After dinner and a couple of games and a lot of alcohol at least on your dad's part, the day was coming to an end. Your dad passed out from the amount of alcohol he had drank, Chris and Henry helped you carry your dad upstairs to his bedroom, covering him up to keep him warm so he doesn't freeze. You slowly close his bedroom door, and you come face to face with the two men, "I guess that's it for tonight" you say in a soft nervous tone as you look up at the two men but they both just smirk down at you.

Henry steps forward and grips the back of your neck, pushing his face against yours and pressing his lips against your soft ones, your eyes widen in shock but slowly close as you enjoy this touch of passion. Henry and you both stumble to the side, pushing your bedroom door open, and you both land on the bed bouncing slightly but not breaking the kiss. Chris slowly walks in as he watches this unfold, your body laying on top of Henry's as you both passionately make out, Chris slowly pulls down your smart trousers and your underwear just enough so that your tight pink hairless pucker is on display.

Chris leans in and begins lapping up your hole, rimming you to the best of his ability. His tongue slowly pushed inside you, curling and flicking against your soft, warm walls. Once your hole is all soaking wet and slowly opening up with Chris' hot breath against it, he leans away and strips off naked and presses his pre-cum soaked tip against your hole slowly pushing it in. You throw your head back breaking the kiss, you gasp out in shock and pleasure as your feel his cock completely fill your hole.

Henry manages to unbutton his shirt opening it up exposing his hairy chest and ripped abs, your eyes dart down and you gasp out at his reveal. Chris grips onto your hips as he continues to slowly pound into you faster and faster, whereas Henry's hands travel down to unbuckle his belt and he manages to get his thick uncut cock out. Chris stops pumping into you for a moment and helps you both strip off fully naked and you get back into the position you were just in.

Chris slips his cock back into your gaping hole and with the help of Chris' hand, Henry's cock slips into your tight hole. You gasp out in slight pain that eases away in pure sultry bliss as your hole accommodates to the size of both their cocks. Henry bucks his hips up into you and Chris digs his nails into your hips as he pumps himself back and forth into you his cock rubbing up against Henry's thick member. Your eyes roll back as they pound away into you relentlessly as your cock spurts out cum as they both stretch your hole to an orgasmic size.

Your hole tightens against Henry and Chris' cocks as they stop pounding into you and both feel your muscle ring tighten around them, their cocks can't take it anymore and they spurt out cum inside your asshole giving you the ultimate cream pie. "I think I know what I'm thankful for this year" you say in a soft tone as you feel both their cocks slip out of your hole and they pull you under the duvet to warm you up. "Happy Thanksgiving" Henry and Chris say in unison and they both place a kiss on either side of your cheek as your naked bodies rub against eachother.

Happy Thanksgiving. 🦃

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

[blackynsupremacy]

“why you always watching superhero stuff? ” 😐

The superheroes:

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

I bet (which is true) their beard tickles when they kiss you.

(I need that so badly)

[sosa2imagines]

Hiya! I have a Steve Rogers fic request! So, reader and Steve are together for about a year now. Reader is sick and not feeling particularly well. One day, reader falls with morning sickness and she takes a pregnancy test to check before hand. It comes back positive, however she panics because she knows it's not Steve's. She confesses to Steve. However, instead of breaking the relationship, he helps her and guides her through maternity, together.

Hope you have fun writing! 😊💕

Warning- Angst, fluff, unexpected pregnancy.

You wake with a heaviness in your chest, not the emotional kind, not yet. Your stomach churns violently, and the instant you lift your head from the pillow, you know what’s coming.

The bathroom tiles are cold against your knees as you throw up for the second time that morning.

Its been happening for ten days straight now.

Your fingers tremble when you reach for the sink, trying to steady yourself. You’ve told yourself it’s probably the flu, maybe some bad takeout. But deep down you know.

You grab your phone, check the calendar. One week late.

The test burns a hole in your drawer. You bought it days ago, just in case. You never thought you'd actually have to use it.

And now, you stare at the little window, eyes fixed, heartbeat pounding louder than your thoughts.

Two lines.

Positive.

You sit on the bathroom floor for a long time, unable to move. You want to scream. Cry. Run. But none of those things would change the truth you already knew before the test confirmed it.

It's not Steve’s.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year. The man who holds your hand like it's precious, who never forgets how you take your coffee, who stays up with you on your worst days and kisses your forehead like it’s sacred. The man who would have done anything for you. Who uses protection, because he does not want you to deal with anything, you both may or may not be ready for.

But this?

This is your fault.

And you have to tell him.

He's in the kitchen when you walk out. The morning sun filters through the window, casting a soft glow over his messy hair and tired smile. He turns to you, apron tied haphazardly over his sweatpants, flipping pancakes.

“Morning, sweetheart. Feeling any better?” His voice is laced with worry. Ever since the sickness started, Steve has been constantly worried about you.

You don't answer right away. You just watch him, memorizing the way he looks at you like you’re his world.

Your chest tightens. This might be the last time, so with a deep breath you decide to tell him, “I need to talk to you...” you say quietly.

He sets the spatula down, turning to face you fully. “What’s wrong?”

You hold the test in your hand, but your fingers refuse to let it go. “I’m… pregnant…”

His eyes widen, just slightly. He doesn’t speak. He waits, the way he always does, patient, calm, steady.

And it shatters you.

“It’s not yours…” you whisper. “It… it was a mistake. A stupid, selfish, one-time mistake before us. I thought it was over. I didn’t even think about it again until now. But, this happened. And I didn’t want to lie to you...and I can understand if you want to end things…I…I promise I won’t blame you…”

He says nothing for a beat. You wait for the sharp breath. The anger. The betrayal. Waiting for him to say “pack your bags and get the hell lost!”

But none of that comes.

Instead, Steve steps forward, gently takes the test from your hand, and sets it on the counter. He cups your cheek like you're made of glass.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Thank you for telling me…”

You blink, tears stinging, “Aren’t you mad?”

He smiles sadly, but full of love, “Yeah. A little. But more than that… I’m scared that you’re scared. And I’m not going to leave you to do this alone.”

“You shouldn’t have to stay.”

“I want to stay.”

He wraps his arms around you like an anchor, grounding you. Your body shakes with silent sobs, pressed against his chest.

You don’t deserve this. But he’s here. Still here.

And when he pulls away just enough to rest his hand on your stomach, his eyes glisten.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

You never meant for it to be this complicated.

You never meant to sleep with Clark Kent again, not after he broke your heart for her. Not after all those tear-stained nights and the way your chest ached every time you saw him and Lois in a photo, smiling like they hadn’t left wreckage behind.

But one night, grief blurred the lines. One night, he showed up at your door with an apology and a broken look. One night, you let yourself believe he meant it.

And then, nothing. Silence. No follow-up. Just another goodbye, without any words.

You had no idea that night would leave you with something that would change the course of your life.

And now, Steve holds your hand with gentle strength as you whisper the truth.

“It’s… Clark’s.”

His thumb stills its rhythmic stroke on your knuckles. His jaw tightens, just slightly. But he doesn’t let go.

He never does.

“That was before us,” he says quietly, as if reminding himself too. “You didn’t cheat on me. And he left you. That’s not your fault.”

You stare down at the floor, words tangling in your throat. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I thought I’d never see Clark again. He made it clear that Lois was his future...”

Steve nods slowly, “You still should tell him.”

“I could try…but…” you admit, biting your lip. “he’s… blocked me. Everywhere. I guess he thought I might get in the way of their perfect life.”

There’s a flash of something in Steve’s eyes, anger, towards Superman. But it’s quickly swallowed by calm resolve.

“I’ll find him…” he says.

You blink, startled. “Steve…you don’t…”

“I don’t care if I have to fly across the damn globe. He should know. But more importantly…” he pauses, cupping your cheek, “you deserve peace.”

You nod, swallowing back tears. “What if he doesn’t want the baby?”

He holds your gaze. “Then he’s a fool. But either way, I do want the baby. And I want you.”

The tears come freely now. You fall into his arms, and for the first time since the test turned positive, you feel like maybe… just maybe… this won’t break you.

Truth to be told, Steve with the help from Tony, did contact Clark, but Clark dismissed him, telling him to do whatever he wishes to do, cause you are no longer his problem.

That was the last, Steve ever talked about him.

Then came the first ultrasound.

The examination room is quiet except for the steady hum of the machine and the soft static that preludes something life-changing.

You lie on the table, gown draped over your belly, Steve seated beside you, your fingers intertwined so tightly they’ve gone numb.

The technician smiles at you both, friendly and warm. “You two ready to see your little one?”

Steve squeezes your hand. “We’re ready.”

The gel is cold. You flinch. The wand glides across your skin, and you hold your breath. And then a sound is heard.

Rhythmic. Soft. Then louder.

Your breath catches. Steve’s hand tightens around yours.

“There’s the heartbeat,” the technician beams. “Strong and steady.”

You blink hard, trying not to cry. But Steve’s thumb brushes the tears off your cheek anyway.

The monitor displays a tiny blob, your baby. Clark’s baby. But it doesn’t feel like his right now. It feels like yours. Like Steve’s, even. Because he’s here. Because he cares. Because he’s already giving more than the biological father ever did.

The tech continues. “Looks like you’re around ten weeks. Everything’s measuring just right. Dad, want to see?”

You glance at Steve instinctively.

He leans forward, eyes glued to the screen, voice rough. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

He doesn’t correct them.

He doesn’t say, I’m not the father.

Instead, he asks, “Can we get a picture of the heartbeat?”

The technician prints it out without question.

You don’t speak until you’re back in the car, the ultrasound photo trembling in your hands, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

Steve starts the engine but doesn’t pull away, “Because I am the one who’s here. I’m the one who’s going to help you through every kick and craving and sleepless night. And when that baby comes into the world, I’m going to be the one holding them, whispering that it’s going to be okay.”

You look at him, this man who chose to stay, who chose you, who is choosing this baby even though he doesn’t have to.

Your voice is a whisper, “You don’t have to do this...”

“I want to,” he says with a smile, “Let me love both of you.”

You cry harder than you have since that first test.

And in your heart, you already know, this child may not be Steve’s by blood, but they will be his in every way that matters.

The bump starts to show around week sixteen. It’s small at first. A soft curve beneath your sweaters. But Steve notices immediately.

He stares at it sometimes when you’re asleep, his palm hovering just above like he’s afraid to wake the baby or you. He whispers to your belly when you’re not listening, voice full of wonder and low chuckles. You once caught him doing it and he flushed tomato-red.

“She kicked when I said her name,” he murmured like it was classified intel. “I think she likes me.”

You laugh. “That’s because she does…”

Your hormones are a menace. You cry over everything. A broken shoelace. A commercial with a puppy. One time Steve came home with the wrong kind of ice cream and you wept like he’d murdered someone. He apologized for an hour and drove twenty-five minutes back to get the right one.

You called yourself insane.

He only kissed your forehead. “You’re growing a human, sweetheart. You can set the apartment on fire and I’ll still think you’re amazing.”

You reply through sniffles, “I was actually considering arson, so thank you…”

You craved pineapple, pickles, peanut butter, and pepperoni all at once. Steve doesn’t flinch. He goes to four stores to find the right brand of pickles at 11 PM on a Tuesday.

Once, you cried when he brought you a warm grilled cheese just the way you liked it, cut diagonally, not horizontally and whispered, “You remembered.”

He blushed. “Course I did, doll. That’s my job now.”

“You’re too good.”

“Nah,” he smiled. “Just madly in love with you and slightly terrified of you.”

You laughed and cried at the same time.

The baby shower was a literal war for Steve.

Tony insists on throwing you a baby shower, and Steve agrees reluctantly. You have a vision board, a color theme, and approximately seventeen pages of Pinterest inspiration.

Steve has a nervous breakdown over centerpieces.

“I don’t know what the hell a ‘woodland chic’ aesthetic is…” he panics to Natasha on the phone. “Are mushrooms cute now? Why are we decorating with moss?!”

Natasha shows up just to babysit him.

Despite the chaos, it turns out beautifully. You cry again when Steve gives a heartfelt toast about how this baby might not be his by blood, but they're his in every way that matters. He thanks everyone for accepting your baby and him with open arms.

Even Bucky’s tearing up.

He later tells Steve, “You sap.” But he claps him on the back and adds, “You’re gonna be a damn good dad.”

The night your water broke, it happens at 3:47 AM.

You jolt upright in bed, gasping, “Steve!!!”

“Mmh?” he groans, groggy and tangled in blankets.

“My water just broke...”

He sits up like he’s been shot, “WHAT?! Okay…okay! Grab the bag, wait, I grab the bag! Do we have socks? You need socks. Is it too late for socks?! Okay…okay”

You groan in pain. “Steve, if you don’t get me to the hospital right now, I swear I will light this whole damn apartment on fire and use Clark’s ashes as fuel! And stop saying OKAY!!!”

He scrambles like his life depends on it. “Socks later, fire now, got it! Okay!”

He helps you into the car, holding your hand the entire time, whispering sweet nothings, “You’re doing amazing, doll.” “You can crush my hand if you need to. I don’t even need fingers.” “You definitely don’t look like a demon right now. No, you’re glowing. Glowing with… strength.”

You glare at him mid-contraction. “I want to kill Clark.”

Steve kisses your knuckles. “I support you. Just maybe after we get the baby out?”

At the hospital, he never lets go of your hand, not once. Not when you scream. Not when you curse. Not when you cry, beg for it to be over, or threaten violence on multiple innocent bystanders.

When your baby finally arrives, red-faced, crying, tiny fists curled against their chest, Steve is the one who cuts the cord.

The nurse turns to him with a bright smile. “Congratulations, Dad.”

And again, he doesn’t correct her.

He holds your baby like they’re the most sacred thing he’s ever touched. And when he finally places them into your arms, his eyes are full of unshed tears.

“You did so good, doll. Look at our little miracle.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, baby curled against your chest, and whisper, “Thank you for staying.”

He kisses your temple, voice thick. “I didn’t stay. I chose this. I chose you. And I’ll keep choosing you both, every day.”

You wait until everyone’s gathered in the hospital room.

Natasha bouncing on the balls of her feet, Pepper filming with teary eyes, Sam cracking jokes, and Bucky in the corner pretending not to care, but clearly wiping at his eyes every five seconds.

Steve stands beside you, cradling the baby, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips. Your head rests against his bicep, exhaustion still clinging to your bones, but you feel lighter than you’ve felt in months.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Pepper asks, camera zoomed in.

You exchange a glance with Steve. He nods, a silent encouragement.

You turn to everyone, voice soft but steady. “We wanted to wait until he was born to be sure. But now that he’s here, it just… fits.”

Everyone leans in.

“His name is Jamie Steven Rogers.”

The room goes still.

Bucky blinks. “I…what?”

Steve's eyes widen, completely stunned, he knew you wanted to name the child after Bucky, but adding his name that was a surprise for him.

“You named him after me?” Bucky croaks, looking at you like you just threw a brick at his heart in the best way possible.

You laugh, a little breathless. “You’ve always had my back. You’ve been my brother before I even knew I needed one. You’re going to be the best uncle. And Steve… well.” You look at the man holding your son. “He’s already the best dad.”

Bucky exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “I was supposed to be the emotionally unavailable, grumpy uncle who makes inappropriate jokes and teaches the kid to swear. Now I’m crying like a Disney princess.”

You smirk. “You can still be the grumpy uncle. Just a very loved one.”

He groans but pulls you into a hug anyway. “I swear, if this baby’s first word is ‘punk’ it’s going on the birth certificate.”

Everyone laughs, the tension melting into joy.

Later that night, the room has long since quieted. Visitors have gone home. Nurses come and go softly, but it’s just you and Steve now. Jamie sleeps peacefully between the two of you, a little burrito of blankets and soft snores.

Steve brushes a finger down Jamie’s chubby cheek. “He’s perfect.”

“You are…” you say, eyes fixed on him. “You didn’t have to do this. But you chose it all. You chose us.”

He looks at you like he’s still trying to believe this is real. “I’ll never stop choosing you.”

You lean over and kiss him soft, slow, grateful. His hand cups your jaw, deepening it just enough to make your heart thrum all over again.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“For loving a baby that wasn’t yours. For making him yours. For being ours.”

He only smiles, kissing your forehead. “There was never a choice for me. You’re my whole world.”

As you fall asleep, Steve promises to protect you and his baby. Because you don’t know about the storm taking place and Steve will make sure you don’t get to know about it.

Earlier with Bucky, he had a private conversation.

Hours ago, while you were asleep and Steve had stepped out for a coffee run, Bucky cornered him just outside the nursery window.

“Hey,” Bucky said, voice lower than usual. “We’ve got a problem.��

Steve stiffened. “What kind of problem?”

“Clark.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder, then back at Steve. “I’ve seen him hanging around. Not close enough to make a scene, but… he’s lurking. Watching.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, the shadows under his eyes sharpening. “He’s not setting one foot near her. Or my baby.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

“If he even looks at them…” Steve’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl, “I’ll end him.”

“I’m in,” Bucky said without missing a beat. “We’ll make it look like an accident.”

Steve smirked, dark and knowing. “Appreciate it.”

Bucky’s tone sobered. “Just… keep her safe. Keep Jamie safe.”

Steve nodded. “With my life.”

They didn’t tell you. Not that night. Not then. Because that moment belonged to peace.

Back in the Room

Jamie stirs slightly in his bassinet. You and Steve both move at the same time, instinctively in sync, soothing him with whispered hushes and gentle touches.

You rest your head against Steve’s shoulder again, feeling his warmth, his steady breath, the beating of his heart.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you…” you whisper.

He kisses the top of your head. “Whatever it was, I’m glad you did it.”

The room goes quiet again.

You both fall asleep like that, your hand on Jamie’s back, Steve’s arm around you, wrapped up in a family that wasn’t planned but was meant to be.

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[delicioushottubpeanut]

Y'know when you start liking a dilf and see all these edits and then become jealous because they have liked them longer than you

[crumpleduppieceofpaper58]

I love my man 🙏 (he doesn’t even know I exist)

[supercap2319]

Y/N smirked. Looking at Mister Fantastic, Human Torch, Wolverine, and their variants. "I can take you guys."

"In a fight, right?" Reed one asked.

Y/N said nothing, just smirking.

"In a fight right, kid?" The Cavillrine asked.

"Nope."

[mercurial-chuckles]

I put together these Thoughts list that I keep having--pretty much self-indulgent, to be honest. Banner credits to me (a bit rough n ready), photo credits to the internet. Divider credits to @buck-star (thanks, Sydney, you’re amazing!). Minors DNI. Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Check out my other works: Masterlist Updated: February 27, 2025 ✨ Have a Thotful Day, my darlings! ✨ If you have a thought you'd like me to write about, visit me at Grace's Abode and Voice your Wild Thoughts! Indulge Away!

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Mortifying Monday Thought

Mirthless Monday Thought

Mischievous Monday Thought

Tantalizing Tuesday Thought

Tenacious Tuesday Thought

Wibbly-Wobbly Wednesday Thought

Witless Wednesday Thought

Thirsty Thursday Thought

Taut Thursday Thought

Frisky Friday Thought

Snuggling Saturday Thought

Savage Saturday Thought

Serene Sunday Thought

Sappy Sunday Thought

****

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[mrcavill88]

My night in Hollywood

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans x Henry Cavill x Male reader

Summary: Your first film role definitely has its ups and downs. A large pay check? Good. A kickstart to your career? Even better. But a night with three of Hollywoods leading men? The absolute best

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, daddy kink, pet names “little boy, baby, doll”, ass slapping, stripping, nipple playing, breeding kink, dick sucking, handjob, unprotected sex

Who knew being famous was so tough?

I’m constantly being bombarded by fans desperate for an autograph. The Hollywood life seems glamorous, and that it is, but not without its downside. The upside? All the hot actors in Hollywood, oh how I loved seeing a sexy man on screen. I recently landed a role on a film with some of Hollywoods leading men and holy cow was it a joyride. I walked into the hotel I would be staying at for the shooting of this film and who do I see as soon as I walk into the elevator? Henry Cavill, Sebastian Stan, and Chris Evans.

The scarlet color on my face is noticeable as I instantly start fanboying over the three buff men. “Hello there, you’re y/n right? I’m Henry, pleasure to meet you love”. He stuck his thick hand out and I shook it with much ebullience. I took my spot in the elevator, right in between Sebastian and Chris, feeling so small next to the 6 feet men.

What was in reality 30 seconds felt like 3 hours in the elevator. Sweat building up on my forehead as the men continued to spark conversation with me. My words fumbled and completely shaky. We reached my floor and I bolted out the doors and hastily walked to my room and instantly shut the door. I was a mess. My chest popping in and out of my body, a noticeable bulge in my tight pants. But as I went to change my clothes, a small envelope slid through my door.

“Reservation at Giovanni’s Italian cuisine for two, 7:30 pm at the luxury suite.

My baby y/n, please join me tonight for dinner, I would love to get to know you. See you soon, Sebastian”

I was fucked. Butterflies pacing through my stomach as the feeling of love and affection enveloped my soul. But was I gonna pass up this opportunity? Hell no. I checked the clock and it was currently 6:00, “how the hell did he reserve the place so quickly?” I thought. I rushed into my luggage and picked out a loose blue and white striped button up and white kakis which kinda showed off my ass.

I got into my car, put my sunglasses on and started driving to the restaurant. “What if he doesn’t like me?” “What if this is all a joke?” Thoughts filled my head as I headed to the restaurant, making me more nervous than I already was.

I walked in and it was the most classy restaurant I have ever been to. Red velvety floors covered the place with beautiful floral arrangements and classical music. “Reservation with Sebastian at 7:30, in the luxury suite,” I said to the hostess. “Right this way please,” she replied as we walked up the extravagant stairs into the luxury suite. She opened the door and

There he was

Waiting for me in a tight black polo shirt that complimented his rippling biceps, and jeans that were definitely, tight. “H-hi Sebastian,” I said with a trembling voice. He walked up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Hey y/n, I’m so happy you came tonight, I hope you like this place cause I really wanted to have a great time tonight, please sit.”

I sat down in the expensive chair and couldn’t help but notice the beautiful view from the window. “Wow! This place is so nice, I can see the whole city from here!” Sebastian grabbed my hand. “Yeah it’s nice but I think I like what I see from here more,” biting his lip. I instantly started blushing, biting my lip to try and calm it down but the redness of my cheeks just got more obvious. I was completely fucked, in a desperate way to change the subject, “So, I wanna try this ravioli they got here, I heard it’s amazing”, I said trying to change the subject. “Yeah let me order, I already know what I’m getting”.

Sebastian ordered our food and I was set for the best date, and the first date, of my life. Who knew a celebrity could be so down to earth and so cordial? But of course, the physical and, sexual appeal was crazy as the Romanian man was extremely romantic.

“Oh, well I’m stuffed, we should get going. This food is pre-paid so don’t even worry about it. Should I take you home?” “Oh thanks but I drove here so I think I’ll be fine,” I answered. “Are you sure?”, he asked with a serious somewhat dour look on his face. “Uhm, actually, maybe you should,” I said nervously hoping he wouldn’t be offended.

We cleaned up and left the restaurant, he took me into his expensive car and started driving back to the hotel. Something felt off, he was being extremely seductive and touchy, grabbing my thigh and rubbing my chest. Did I like it? Of course.

I walked into the hotel and entered the elevator with him just to see two familiar faces once again, Chris and Henry.

“Oh y/n! Great to see you again! Looks like you’ve had some fun with my friend Seb huh?” Chris said with a funny expression. I couldn’t help but nod and gulp as I entered the elevator with the three men.

We were going up and all of a sudden, Sebastian presses the emergency stop button. I was completely confounded, not knowing what was going on. I tried to push the button again but the three men cornered me in this godforsaken box.

“What does this little boy think he’s doing?” Henry asked as he stroked my hair. I started to sweat, and slightly panic. “W-why’d you stop the elevator?” I said hoping this just was some kind of stupid joke. I reached for the button again until Sebastian covered my mouth with his large hand and pinned me up against the wall.

I didn’t even have time to say anything before my clothes started coming off. They started kissing and biting my body relentlessly and I couldn’t help but moan and whine. “Oh baby I wanna fuck you so bad,” Sebastian said as he and Chris started removing my shirt and pants, leaving me in my tiny little spandex.

“Lay in my lap doll,” Henry said gesturing toward me. I felt so exposed and fragile in the moment. “Count” he said as he smacked my ass cheek. I screamed and jolted a little at the surprising pain and arousal that came from it, “o-one” *SMACK* “t-two” *SMACK* “t-three”. One slap quickly became 15 as Henry continued slapping my ass cheeks until they were bright scarlet and my cheeks were soaked in tears.

“What a good boy you are, now let daddy make you feel good,” Sebastian sad as he grabbed my and gagged my mouth. I was in heaven. Henry started twisting and teasing my nipples as Chris shoved his fingers in and out of my hole. Sebastian rubbing up against my body and his dirty talk made me more aroused than I should’ve been. Cock twitching and my skin soaked in sweat. “Daddy!” I whined as my body was being violated by three sexy men. “Oh the things you do to me baby, now open up for daddy”.

Sebastian whipped out his 10 inch cock and teased my hole making more unholy noises leave my mouth. And all of a sudden, *THRUST* his dick was sliding in and out my hole at a rapid pace. Henry shoved his dick into my mouth and started fucking my face. I moaned on his dick sending vibrations up his cock. “Ugh f-fuck baby you’re so naughty. In the midst of all this sexual pleasure, Chris shoved his dick in my hand. “Come on baby, make me cum,” he said as I started jerking him off.

I was gonna lose it, my body completely drowned in pleasure. “D-addy, I c-can’t take it! I’m gonna c-cum daddy!”. “C-come on baby, w-wait for your daddies, don’t be a s-selfish little b-boy”. At those words, my cock shot a load of cum onto Sebastian’s broad chest. Sebastian felt my hole tighten around his cock and came in my hole, filling my walls with his warm and sticky baby batter. I was completely cum drunk. I collapsed onto Henry’s chest. The three men held me in their strong embrace as the night neared its end, nothing could have ruined this night, except the fact that we were in a damn elevator.

THE END

Thanks for reading everyone hope y’all enjoyed it! (I know it kinda sucks)

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

Masterlist

Requests are: open

smut*

angst^

Top Gun

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Afterburn

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Tougher Than I Look^

F1

Lando Norris

Off Limits* When The Stars Align* Like You Deserve

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Tightrope^ Pole Position*

Marvel

Peter Parker

Halfway to You Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Steve Rogers

The Winter Soldier

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Backseat Reputation*

Eddie Munson

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

UKYT

George Clarke

Caught in 4K Couple's Content

Arthur TV

Arthur Hill

Chris MD

Mic'd Up

Harry Lewis

Left on Read More Than a Plus One Don't Let Her Find Out* Recharging

You Promised You Wouldn’t Be Mad

Italian Bach

Other

Sherlock Holmes

Tyler Owens

[witchywithwhiskey]

the princess and the villain

pairing: choose your own soft!dark male character x female reader

summary: you're the daughter of a powerful mob boss, and someone's been hired to take you away. but after one look at your face, the man starts getting ideas about keeping you for himself.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes, abduction, drugging, dirty thoughts and fantasies (including nonconsensual somnophilia), sadism, dacryphilia, a dangerously delusional man

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i wrote this prologue-y thing back in early spring for a specific character, but while i liked this part, i didn't like anything about how the story progressed after it and i ended up abandoning the fic. but i still really liked this part and i thought it'd be a fun entry in @bucks-and-noble's Choose Your Babe challenge!! so, after you read, please tell me who you think is the villain to our princess 😈

For you, it was a night like any other. 

You’d gone through your normal evening routine, padding softly around your penthouse apartment before slipping between the satin sheets of your queen-sized bed. 

You’d drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe in the knowledge that your security system was set, there was an armed doorman in the lobby of your building, and your father’s men were only a phone call away.

For him, it was the night everything changed.

Of course, everything would change for you, too. You just didn’t know it yet.

You were blissfully unaware of everything that had been put in motion that led to the events of that night. You slept soundly as a man you’d never met before—one wearing a dark suit, dark gloves and a dark look in his eye—stalked silently into your bedroom. He adjusted the black leather gloves he wore, a silver gun gripped in one steady hand as he came to stand over you. 

You looked like a princess.

It was the first thing that struck the man, how much you looked like a sleeping princess from the fairytales he’d read as a boy. So peaceful and pretty and perfect. 

But the man wasn’t a knight or a prince. Sure, he’d had noble aspirations when he’d been young, wanting to slay dragons and rescue princesses like you. But that’s not how his life turned out.

Instead, he’d become the villain. He was the assassin who had killed your father’s men assigned to protect you, then slit the throat of the doorman in your lobby before disarming your security system and letting himself into your defenseless apartment. 

He was the mercenary hired by your mafia boss father’s rival to abduct you and hold you hostage while the old men squabbled over power and money.

As the man stared down at your face, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek and the dip of your mouth, the thought occurred to him that he would pay anything to get you back if you’d been taken from him. He’d burn the whole world down to find you if someone managed to take you from him. Not that he’d ever let you out of his sight if you were his…

But then he reminded himself that you weren’t his, you were a job, and his thoughts soured. It was more difficult than he would’ve liked to admit to get back to work, his movements lacking their normal meticulousness as he shoved his gun into its holster beneath his arm. 

He pulled a cloth and a small bottle of chloroform from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He didn’t normally need to watch what he was doing, but he did then, making extra certain he didn’t pour too much of the sedative onto the cloth before stowing the bottle away again.

Normally, the man was a professional. He could press the cloth so gently over someone’s mouth and nose while they slept that they’d never even know they were being drugged. They’d just slip peacefully from sleeping into unconsciousness, without any of the fear or struggle that came with waking up to realize they were being drugged by a stranger.

But the man’s mask of calm had slipped the moment he’d laid eyes on your beauty, and he could feel the darkness in the very depths of his soul stirring within him. It was seething and starving, testing the limits of his self-control, making him feel on edge. He wanted. He wanted you.

The man could picture his hand roughly covering your mouth and nose with the chloroform cloth, your eyes flying open and staring up at him. He could imagine the way they’d widen with horror, then fill with tears that slipped down your temples and into your hair. He could almost hear your soft cry of distress and your whimper of terror as you comprehended your fate.

As he fantasized about your fear, the man’s cock hardened in his pants, thickening at the thought of your pretty eyes staring up at him like the villain he was. A menacing grin slowly curled the corners of his mouth and the dark look in his eye turned positively wicked.

Then he was moving, forgoing his normal precision and letting the darkness within him take hold as he slammed the chloroform cloth over your pretty mouth and pert nose, the tips of his leather-clad fingers digging into your soft cheeks hard enough to make you scream in surprise.

When your eyes flew open, the man couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty, leaning forward to loom over your body to get a better look. The moonlight shone across your face, limning your features in ethereal silver light, making you look like an angel. You were even more beautiful when you were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world. 

The mercenary had thought your immediate reaction would be fear, but he was wrong. He hadn’t anticipated the way your brows would furrow in confusion, sweet little lines forming between them as you stared up at him, more bewildered than terrified by his presence.

But then—then it happened. Confusion gave way to horror, your chest heaving as you breathed in panicked gasps, only succeeding in inhaling more of the drug and dooming yourself. You whimpered so sweetly it sounded like music to the man’s ears, and your eyes filled with tears. The man watched, his mouth curving into a greedy, predatory smile. 

He held your terrified gaze, using one hand to brace the back of your head so you couldn’t escape the cloth that covered your mouth and nose and you continued to breathe in the sedative. His cock ached in his pants, the full length of him pressing against the tight confines as he throbbed with arousal, his balls filling with come that he furiously wanted to spill across your face. Or bury deep in one of your warm holes… 

His attention was forced back to the present when your body jerked with dawning realization of what was happening to you. You reached for the dangerous stranger looming over you, your fingertips falling just shy of brushing against his bulge. The man’s cock twitched, as if reaching for you in return, and he had to stop himself from thrusting to meet your touch. 

Thankfully for him, the chloroform was doing its job, and your hands dropped futilely as your eyes began to close. Your arms fell listlessly to the bed and the man watched you succumb to the sedative he’d used to drug you.

When he was certain you were unconscious, he pulled the cloth away and stowed it back in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didn’t leave any trace of his presence in your apartment. That was the job, he tried to remind himself, but the darkness within him was louder, and his movements were all too eager as he pulled the blankets of your bed back, baring your body to his hungry gaze.

He felt his cock throb in excitement as he stared down at you, your body clad in nothing but a skimpy little nightgown, the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your nipples poking through. His eyes roved greedily over your curves, lingering for a long moment on the way the bottom hem of your nightdress was rucked up around your hips, almost giving him a glimpse of your precious cunt nestled between your thighs.

The man wanted desperately to know if you’d gone to bed without panties, but he knew he had to ignore the creeping darkness that had slithered into his mind. Not because it would be a gross invasion of privacy to take a peek at your panties while you were unconscious, but because he knew that if he pushed your nightdress up any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sinking his cock into your tight cunt while you were still out cold.

He’d never fucked a princess, and fucking you—even if it was while you were unconscious—might be the closest he ever got. You were a sleeping beauty and he was no prince charming, no honorable knight. He was the villain, and he wanted to ravage you, whether you were awake or not. 

In that moment, he couldn’t decide which would be better. Fucking you while you were soft and pliant with sleep, your body taking his cock into your tight warm hole while you mumbled incoherently against his shoulder. Or fucking you when you were awake, so he could see your pretty eyes fill with tears again, hear the desperate sounds you made while he filled you with his cock…

The leather of the man’s gloves creaked in the silence of your bedroom as he curled his hands into fists and beat back the darkness that had slipped into his head. He was a professional. He’d been hired to do a job, and you were that job. 

You weren’t his princess to steal away from the king’s tower. He needed to remember that.

The mercenary adjusted his cock in his pants, working hard to reclaim the control that had fled the moment he’d laid eyes on you. He forced his limbs to move precisely as he gathered you up into his arms, ignoring his body’s responses when he smelled the sweet scent of you settle around him, and when he felt your soft breath exhale against his neck. 

A car was waiting in the parking garage beneath the building, ready for the man to take you far away from your home and the city where your father held enough power to be considered a king. He encountered no obstacles as he carried you down to the garage and buckled you into the passenger seat of the car.

As the man drove away, he couldn’t help but feel like the villain stealing the princess from the king’s tower, and it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction. He may not have been a prince or a knight, but he had taken the princess. And he began to think that maybe he should keep you for himself. 

Perhaps the man could write his own kind of twisted fairytale, one where the villain got to keep the princess. 

Looking over at you, your features soft in sleep and no less beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on you, the man made his decision. He’d have his happily ever after at any cost—which meant he’d have to convince you that he was your fairytale come to life, just as you were his.

so who's the babe!? tell me in the comments, reblogs or in my askbox!

[boypied]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA.

pairings: henry cavill x male reader x chris evans

summary: chris evans destroying his boy-toys asshole and decides to send a video to his buddy henry, making him want to have a turn breaking the boy in.

request by: anonymous

warnings: SMUT, anal sex, recording sex, dirty talk, pet names, restraints, spanking.

Chris threw his head back as you bounced off his cock over and over, he slapped your ass before gripping onto your hips fucking you like a dirty slut "fuck! I needed this." He groans out between the sounds of your skin slapping against each other. Your face was pushed against the bed as your hands gripped onto the sheets tightly, enjoying every moment of his thick cock, he leans to the side and whips out his phone "I gotta have a video of this" he says in a breathy moan as he begins recording the backshots.

The video is shaky but still able to get off too, Chris was deep in the moment he hasn't had sex in a while, and this is just him letting off some steam, one hand on your hip and the other holding up his phone making sure he gets the absolute perfect view. You wiggle your hands slightly as he tied you up earlier on, Both yours and Chris' moans echoes around the room as the wet sound of slapping gets louder and louder.

"I'm gonna-" you both moan out simultaneously as you shoot your loads together, your load spurts out of your cock and coats your bed sheets, whereas Chris' thick creamy ropes of cum fill up and coat your insides "mhm, like a Krispy Kreme" he says causing you both to chuckle. Chris helps untie you and he carries you cradle style to his couch where you both sit and watch one of his movies because you enjoy how embarrassed he gets watching himself.

It's been two days since your rendezvous with Chris and let's just say you haven't felt that satisfied in forever, but what you didn't realise is that Chris sent the video over to his gym buddy Henry Cavill and he's never wanted to have a peice of ass so bad until he watched those backshots, while you're walking down the street you run into Henry. "Oh hey Henry!" You say shocked as you weren't expecting to run into him.

His eyes widen in delight as he comes in contact with you, "long time no see y/n" he says in his normal flirty tone. He steps closer to you closing the large gap between the two, the sextape is the only think running through Henry's head as he comes face to face with you. After you two have been standing and talking in the street for a while Henry invites you back to his place and let's just say things gor pretty hot and heavy.

Henry throws you down onto his bed your body bounces as you hit it, you let out a giggle slightly as Henry flips you over having your ass exposed to him. Henry licks his lips and dives straight in his tongue lapping up your sweet little hole, "mhm!" He mumbles out as his tongue gently slides past the tight muscle ring into your ass. The camera from across the room beeps the red light at you which turns you on more, you love being recorded.

You make eye contact with the camera so whoever Henry shares it with will think you're the sexiest bottom alive, Henry pulls away and watches how your hole glistens with spit he strikes his hand down onto your cheek leaving a bright red hand print and causing you to let out a slutty moan. He smirks slightly and lines his cock up with your hole gently thrusting in not wanting to hurt or cause pain, "D-Daddy!" You blurt out as his cock comes in contact with your sweet spot.

Henry grips your hips and pulls your body completely against his as his cock slides in deeper, his eyes focused on your ass as he begins pumping into you watching how your ass jiggles and the bed shakes and creaks. "F-Faster!" You whimper out, embarrassed at how slutty you sound begging for more cock, "I'll give it to you baby! Make sure to smile for the camera" He says as he begins to pick up the pace and thrusts into you roughly as the bed creaking gets louder and louder.

You throw your head back feeling his cock utterly destroy your hole, "m-more!" You practically scream out as he thrusts into you faster and faster, harder and harder the bed creaking becomes louder and louder until it collapses and breaks causing Henry to fall forward and land on top of you. You both chuckle slightly "don't stop Henry!" You say teasingly as he begins to fuck you faster on the broken bed.

Henry's thrusts become sloppy when he nears his release, you jerk off your cock faster and faster waiting for him to shoot his load inside your ass. "Y/N I'm gonna nut, okay get ready" he leans down to whisper in your ear and with one final thrust he shoots ropes of cum deep inside your boy-pussy as you also shoot out onto your chest.

Henry looks up at the camera, giving it a thumbs up, causing you to laugh, "You're such a dork" you whisper to him playfully causing him to scoop you up off the broken bed and down the hall to his guest room, he picks up his phone and texts Chris "I just fucked Y/N so hard that I broke the bed" he didnt have to wait long until Chris piped up. Chris opens it up and laughs.

"You got the video?" He texts back, waiting a couple minutes and he watches the sextape. It doesn't take long for him to whip out his cock and begin beating off to it, he texts you and says "you're a star" with a winky face causing you to chuckle "thanks daddy" you send back with a heart emoji as you snuggle against Henry's hairy chest.

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

[navybrat817]

Calgon, Take Me Away

Pairing: Reader's Choice

Word Count: 900

Warnings: None really. Reader is just done with some parts of adulting. 😂

A/N: We know @biteofcherry , @bucks-and-noble , and others love to do Choose Your Babe and similar variations. With the next couple of weeks being busy, busy, busy, I just want someone to be like Calgon and take me away. 😌

It was an average day as you had lunch with a friend. Nothing out of the ordinary. Both of you took turns trading topics of discussion. Work naturally came up, which made you think of money and relationships. How broke you were. Lonely. Exhausted. You couldn't hold it in.

“You know what? I’m sick of my job. I wish I could just quit,” you said, narrowing your eyes when your friend giggled. “I’m serious. I’m tired of it. I work my ass off, but I'm not going anywhere. I don't feel accomplished when I’m done at the end of the day and I dread hearing my alarm because it’s just another day of having to push through it. But I can't quit because I have to pay my bills. And I'm tired of being tired.”

Even saying the words wore you out.

She asked once your rant was over, “What’s the solution then?”

“I wish I knew,” you answered. You couldn't exactly quit without a plan in place. “If someone could just... I don't know, take me away, it would solve my problem.”

“Take you away?” She raised an eyebrow when you nodded. “How would that solve your problem? Sure, someone takes you away for a bit, but you’d have to go right back to work after your vacation because you'd still have bills. That or you'd have to find another job if you're gone for too long.”

“No, because it wouldn't be a vacation. It would be something more permanent,” you said, a dreamy look taking over your expression. “He would decide my new job is just taking care of myself. And taking care of him, of course.”

She blinked. It sounded crazy to your own ears, but you meant it. “So, you'd be a housewife?”

“Sort of. I guess? Housewife, sugar baby, whatever he needs.” She stared as you paused to take a drink. “He'd let me have hobbies because he wants me to be happy, but I wouldn't have to stress about a job I hate and I'd actually sleep and feel rested when I wake up. I wouldn't have to worry about anything.”

“A guy like that is probably married or a serial dater.”

“This one wouldn't be. He’d be devoted to me,” you said before you corrected yourself. “We’d be devoted to each other.”

Your friend playfully rolled her eyes. “And you think some guy is just going to show up and decide, 'Yeah! I'll make her my little housewife or sugar baby or whatever and I’ll be faithful and worship her!' Really?”

Your head hung for a moment. “A girl can dream, okay?”

“Look. You don't actually want that. You just hate your job right now. Maybe you'll find something else and it'll get better.”

“I've tried finding something else,” you reminded her, doing your best not to whine. “I've been trying for months and the light at the end of the tunnel is only getting further away.”

“Well, not to shit on your dream, but no one is going to show up and take you away,” she said, finishing the rest of her drink. She was being logical, of course, but why couldn't she let you fantasize for a moment? “That's reality. It sucks, I know.”

You deflated a bit and pushed the remainder of your food around your plate. You shouldn't have said anything. “It would still be nice if someone did,” you muttered.

But it was a dream, nothing more.

Someone clearing their throat at the table beside you pulled you from your thoughts. You gasped when you looked his way. He was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. “Sorry for interrupting, but what’s your name?”

You shrugged at your friend before you answered him.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he smiled, making your cheeks feel hot. “I couldn't help but overhear your problem. I think I can help if you're serious.”

Your friend's eyes were as large as saucers, no doubt noticing just how hot he was. “Wait. Really?” You asked.

This gorgeous man heard everything you said and wanted to make your fantasy a reality?

Your heart fluttered when he smiled more. “Really.”

“You're fucking with her right?” Your friend scoffed. “You thought it'd be a funny joke to say that? That's pretty fucked up. You should mind your own business.”

His gaze flickered toward her. “And I think it's pretty fucked up that this beautiful gem is on the verge of tears because she's unhappy and you'd rather roll your eyes and brush off her feelings,” he said, directing his gaze back at you once he finished.

Both of you gasped, you from shock that he defended you and her from offense. “That. That's not what I did!” She argued.

“She’s just trying to keep my feet on the ground,” you said to keep the peace. There was no reason to make a scene.

He softly smiled. “Well, I'd like to pay for your meal, if you'll let me,” he said, flagging the server down before he leaned over to hand you a business card with a wink. There was no ring on his ring finger, which was a good sign. “And I really can help you with your problem. So, if you're interested, call me.”

You glanced at the card in your hand and ran your thumb along the name…

Whose name is it?

Well. Who is it, lovelies? Love and thanks for playing! ❤️

[marrziy]

Oi, não entendi muito bem se é aqui que faz pedido ou não, queria saber se você consegue fazer um raio-x dos atores de Vingadores (Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Michael B Jordan e o que mais vier na sua mente) kkkkkkk desde já agradeço, e se o Henry Cavill puder estar aí também seria 🫦🫦🫦

RAIO-X: Atores

★: Chris Hemsworth/Evans, Michael B. Jordan e Henry Cavill.

+18 leitores & leitoras ~

Representações nada verídicas, tudo fictício e propositalmente exagerado. !Não significa que vou usar essas descrições nos imagines! O limite para essa série será de 4 personagens/atores por 'raio-x' (haverá excessões, como no anterior) ~

★: Chris Hemsworth

21 cm — é um tópico interessantíssimo para ele.

Grossura: na média.

Excitado, fica muito duro, e não é nada sutil quando está dentro. É possível sentir cada centímetro sendo empurrado para frente e arrastado para fora. Atinge tão fundo que a lubrificação de qualquer buceta parece inútil, e se o cuzinho não passar pelo tratamento dos dedos, vai arder.

Balança/Curvatura: leve e um pouco curvado na direção do umbigo. Pende mais para cima do que para baixo. É um pau rígido, difícil de direcionar; dependendo da posição, vai sempre roçar no teto do buraco em que estiver enfiado.

Cor: se mole, não há alteração. Mas, quando a pele estica e revela a cabecinha, torna-se vermelho quase que em sua totalidade, corado na ponta e suavizando gradualmente até a raiz.

Veias: finas e com pouca projeção. Não são muito visíveis no comprimento. A vermelhidão camufla os vasos.

Glande: parcialmente encapuzada na baixa circulação e exposta na alta. Harmoniosa com a sensibilidade do comprimento, seca até o ápice e ligeiramente achatada.

Pelos: zerados no peito, controlados na cara e nos braços, mas as pernas e a virilha não beiram lâminas. Uma trilha feliz passa do cós da calça; farol das línguas.

Bolas: pequenas e pouco caídas. Compensam no peso; são rechonchudas e firmes. Quando ele afunda até não ter mais o que enfiar, elas pressionam com força nas dobras e, se o buraco estiver largo o suficiente, podem até ameaçar entrar junto.

Porra: voyeur da própria gozada.

Ao bater do clímax, ele abaixa a cabeça e corta o ritmo, afastando o quadril para deixar metade dentro e metade fora, a fim de observar a agitação do cacete enquanto pulsa. Se estivesse atolado, provavelmente não transbordaria, mas, como não está, libera o suficiente para escorrer entre as coxas — sêmen quente e aquoso, seguido de gemidos roucos, abafados pelos lábios comprimidos.

★: Chris Evans

17.5 cm — ele odeia quando a largura impata uma foda.

Grossura: muito acima da média.

Latas de desodorante aerossol são engolidas pela sombra dessa piroca (pelos lados). Chris deixa o formato de seu caralho marcado no cuzinho de qualquer pessoa; não há apertadinho(a) que dure com ele. Sabe a frase "faz meu cu de xota"? Pois é… ele faz xota de cu; o arredondamento de sua circunferência age feito carimbo no interior alheio.

Balança/Curvatura: pesado e reto. É naturalmente erguido, mas dá o que sustentar para qualquer superfície. Caso tenha alguém de joelhos para ele, antes de afogar a garganta da pessoa com porra, ele vai bater e esfregar o cacete no rosto dela.

Cor: flácido, é sutilmente mais escuro que o padrão do corpo, mas perde a pouca cor quando cresce. Rola crua define bem; é um pau claro no comprimento e rosa-chiclete na cabeça. Deixá-lo com a peça vermelha é tão fácil quanto tonalizar-lhe as bochechas.

Veias: não tem realce no tato, e só são visíveis devido a baixa melanina na região.

Glande: sem prepúcio, muito sensível e babona. Só de estar meia-bomba, torna-se um potencial destrutivo para cuecas e calças claras, liberando jatos abundantes de pré-porra, capazes de pesar qualquer tecido.

Pelos: finos e pouco volumosos, deitados sobre a virilha. São amenos em contato com a mão durante uma punheta. Se ele passar muito tempo sem depilar a área do torso, uma longa trilha pode subir da virilha e descer do peitoral, dividindo o abdômen trincado.

Bolas: gordas feito o pau, mas, diferente dele, são coradas — levemente avermelhadas quando a temperatura do corpo sobe. Pouca pele sobra; cobrem palmas sem se esparramar e fazem algazarra quando Chris fica estúpido no meio do clímax e começa a arrebentar com grosseria. É aniversário de alguém?

Porra: botadão fofo, mas só até gozar.

Chris inicia devagar, preferindo estar coladinho, amassado contra o parceiro(a) enquanto empurra até o talo e retorna, deixando apenas a cabecinha larga dentro. Ele repete, com mais pressão e pré-sêmen. Na hora do formigamento, sua postura é afoita, como a de um virgem intocado, louco para meter com força, mas tão dependente das paredes o cercando que mal consegue afastar a pélvis. O clímax chega, e um gemido arrastado sobe-lhe à garganta, tão duradouro quanto os jatos brancos esguichando pelas frestas dos quadris pressionados. Ele não para de tremer enquanto libera; só começa a se recuperar após a última gota quentinha vazar.

★: Michael B. Jordan

20 cm — e 120% de autoestima.

Grossura: acima da média.

Toca o limite e ainda demanda espaço, alargando até as bordas afinarem. Entre as paredes de uma buceta, ele faz fundura, e atolado num rabo apertadinho, falta trazer o interior da pessoa para fora; a sensibilidade dura dias.

Balança/Curvatura: pesado e reto. Muita carne para ficar de pé; não deita sobre as coxas, mas aponta para o chão e só mira ao pulsar, quando é lançado para cima com o bombear do sangue. Do tipo rechonchudo; pele em abundância reveste o membro, é macio sob o aperto dos dedos, e sons úmidos preenchem o ambiente durante o estímulo que sobe e desce ou vem e vai.

Cor: tendo o corpo como exemplo, é um tanto mais escuro na compridão, e, indo de mole para duro, os tons permanecem os mesmos. A cabecinha é mais clara e quente, pintada de um marrom que beira o vermelho.

Veias: se estendem pelo comprimento, formando relevo na pele. Algumas começam grossas perto da virilha, sendo um destaque entre as demais. Cercadas por céu, língua e bochechas, palpitam com tanta sofrência que é possível sentir o latejar individual de cada uma.

Glande: é coberta até a metade pelo prepúcio, e graças a boa fartura, segue coberta durante a ereção. Mas é maleável; o que uma mão boba não resolve, né? Antes de arredondar, é tão grossa quanto a extensão, e não conta com uma curva dupla na fenda.

Pelos: periodicamente depilados. Michael gosta das vibrações que a pele pura causa em atrito com o corpo de outrem e jura sentir 10x mais quando está lisa. Mas não faz diferença para ele no cotidiano; só apara quando tem planos.

Bolas: suaves e penduradas. Caso ele se empolgue no frenesi, vão bater violentamente na carne e produzir sons estalados. Assim que a pica afunda, a porra de Michel, acumulada no buraco alheio investida após investida, escorre e as banha. Quando ele afasta o quadril para pegar impulso, linhas pegajosas conectam as peles.

Porra: e se eu falar que ele chora?

Michael fica manhoso quando goza; geme arfando, a virilha trava, e jatos cremosos lotam boca, cu ou buceta. A porra dele é branca, densa e muito quente. Sempre transborda, pois o orgasmo desse homem dura! Geralmente de pálpebras fechadas, respiração pesada e abraçando o parceiro(a), ele prolonga o pós, metendo devagarinho e choramingando enquanto o pau amolece dentro — a carga tatuada nas entranhas àquela altura. Os olhos marejados são garantidos, e a chance de um rastro molhar uma das bochechas não é pequena.

★: Henry Cavill

18 cm — flerta por ele.

Grossura: acima da média.

Não tem muita pele sobrando na extensão, a textura é rígida e, mesmo assim, consegue ser muito grossa. Não há obstáculo interno que o impeça de traçar seu caminho. Independentemente da força da prega ou da finura da garganta, ele deixará seu molde.

Balança/Curvatura: pesado e discretamente curvado para o lado. Excitado, fica duro feito pedra, mas o peso impede que fique totalmente erguido. Mesmo mole, tem uma densidade considerável. Até em momentos tranquilos, como numa dança coladinha, é possível sentir a rola dele esfregando.

Cor: dá continuidade em tons mais escuros quando mole e assume a mesma tonalidade da pele ao endurecer. A cabecinha e as bolas são pontos quentes, possuindo um vermelho claro e escuro, respectivamente.

Veias: na base, linhas grossas protuberam, mas são poucas as que passam da metade do comprimento.

Glande: sem capuz. É uma cabeça tão grande que faz a frase "só a cabecinha" perder totalmente o sentido. Henry poderia fartar socando apenas a ponta da piroca, já seria o suficiente para esticar ao máximo qualquer entradinha.

Pelos: só depila o corpo caso o trabalho exija, mas a virilha está sempre cheia — ele gosta assim. Atravessam o "V" sem perder a vastidão, cobrindo boa parte do abdômen.

Bolas: parte da pele se estica, sustentando globos avantajados. São pesadas, balançam muito se não estiverem contidas e, dependendo da posição na cueca, exibem um pacote volumoso; sentado com as pernas minimamente abertas, é quase obsceno. A força com que colidem contra uma bunda pode causar desconforto, são sensíveis. Mas Henry não liga para isso quando está estourando um buraquinho gostoso.

Porra: ele faz o urro!

O gozo dele é bastante líquido e de um branco fraquinho, quase transparente. Os braços fortes e as mãos grandes contêm o parceiro(a) durante o clímax, envolta da cintura, quadril, pescoço ou prendendo-lhe os pulsos. Se estiver deitado sobre as costas da pessoa, eleva quase o corpo inteiro antes de colidir, batendo o quadril e todo o resto com força na carne abaixo. Enquanto fode feito um animal no cio, os olhos duram fechados de concentração, e arfadas pesadas escapam da boca entreaberta, até a mandíbula travar por segundos mudos e retornar com um gemido único, rouco e alto, que acompanha o esvaziamento do saco contraído.

*Mo preguiça de reler depois de revisar 😮‍💨 volto daqui umas semanas pra decidir se amo ou odeio esse babado aqui

—★🗃️ Biblioteca ~

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