#and gorge himself on treats

[corrienteallita]

Just an FYI, I'm probably going to be posting a little stardew valley content on here. I've had the flu recently and the only thing I've felt like doing is curling up with a cat and playing stardew valley. So there will be a small break in sims content, but only a small break 😊

[crossedwithblue]

random thought bc I've been listening to Six on repeat: the queens claim that the only reason they're remembered is because of Henry, but would Henry be one of the most iconic and well-known English monarchs if not for them?

[knightelf]

unbelievable ive made finn into a monster. he refused to eat his dinner and begged me for treats so i literally had to crush a singular treat and sprinkle it over his dinner to get him to eat it. unreal

[egberts]

Milestones Louis has reached in the last 24 hours:

8 foot vertical leap. clung to a backpack hanging on a top-of-door hook with no plan on how to get back down

cabinet jumping. he utilized his newfound 8 foot verticle leap to figure out how to get on top of the cabinets.

box elevator of trust. he's already gotten stuck on top of the cabinets twice.

treat stealing. he figured out how to pull out the container that his kitten treat tubes were in and then proceeded to gorge himself on the rest of the package by puncturing the tubes with his teeth until food came out

the hall closet. it is now baby proofed shut.

[celestialprincesse]

going home to best friend simon after a failed blind date (where the guy ridiculed you for what you were wearing, or made you feel stupid or something) and he makes you feel better by finally kissing you the way he’s wanted to for so many years 🥹

🌃🛋️🐆🎱

You hadn't been on a date in far too long. Two months, actually, nearly three. In all honestly, you'd grown sick of spending countless hours scrolling through dating apps, only to be rewarded with unwarranted dick pics and texts at stupid hours of the morning asking 'u up?'. Having had enough of small talk, and being treated like a sentient blow up doll, when your friend had offered to set up a blind date after your whining over a cheap bottle of red, you'd eagerly agreed. Surely, you'd thought, she'd vet the potential date, and you trusted her taste - which was your first mistake.

The second would be actually expressing yourself when going to meet a man you've never been introduced to before. The way he stares down at your shoes with disdain as you walk into the restaurant, or scowls when you order a cocktail is agonisingly obvious, and has you on edge the whole night. Unable to help the way you sigh in relief as you split the bill and get ready to leave, you vow to never do this to yourself again - and then proceed to cry in the cab all the way home.

Simon, conveniently, is standing in the kitchen when you get home, kicking off your favourite heels with a huff, and proceeding to further blubber when they smack against the cabinet and the heel comes loose.

"Bad date?" Your roommate questions, shaking you from the spiral of self pity you're rapidly descending.

"Why do I do this to myself," You huff, perhaps a little dramatically as you throw your purse on the counter, before sitting up on the marble surface to better face Simon - and ease your aching feet. "Like - genuinely - why do I do this to myself? Men are assholes."

Simon only provides you with an bemused hum as he rifles through the kitchen cabinets and fridge. "Grilled cheese?"

"Mhm. M' starving." You scoff, reminded suddenly of the incredulity you'd felt having paid for half of the bill - when you'd only had a salad (ordered for you no less), whilst your 'date' had gorged himself on a rump steak and fries right before your face. Asshole.

Watching Simon's back, straining against his t-shirt as he dutifully prepares you something to eat that doesn't comprise of soggy lettuce and split sauce, you can't help but to sigh, lost in thoughts of why all men aren't like him, and how if he wasn't your roommate, and if you weren't drunk and extremely fragile emotionally, you'd absolutely jump his bones given half the chance.

So distracted, in fact, that you fail to notice the plate of sizzling melty, cheesy goodness placed beside you on the counter, and the crooked smile Simon offers as he stands between your legs, resting his hands either side of you.

"They don't deserve you." He offers, perhaps - no, definitely - out of pity, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing against your cheekbone in one of the softest gestures you've felt in a long time. "Nobody deserves you."

"You do." You can't help the words that spill from your lips, worse still, your eyes darting to his own mouth, breath catching when his tongue darts out to wet them on a subconscious instinct, taunting you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid - is probably what your brain would scream at you when your lips crashed against Simon's - if you gave a shit. Which you don't.

And you're so glad you don't, because the way he kisses you back is practically sinful, all encompassing as he nips at your bottom lip and pulls you closer by the hips with such startling ease that you have to pull back. But of course, by some cruel twist of fate, or maybe just some terribly bad luck, when you go back to kiss him a second time, he stops you, a frown pulling at his dirty blond brows.

"Not now." He whispers, voice hoarse and eyes burning right through your very skull. "Not when you're feeling like this. Not because I don't want to - because, fuck, I do - but not now. I want you when you're ready - and not drunk, preferably. Eat your grilled cheese and we'll get you to bed."

🌃🛋️🐆🎱

[afewfantasies]

Hii, love your works!

Can you do a feyd rautha x reader?

They are married and he takes her to meet the harpies because she's curious, they start to like her and become protective of her because she doesn't take feyd away and she cares and treats them good.

Thanks

"PETS" - Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Same as the ask but they aren't married yet.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Fluffy with mentions of gore.

Sorry for the wait @kitty95 but here it is 😊

Telling you ‘no’ felt like the only sin Feyd would be slow to commit. He revelled in your happiness and appreciation. The two of you had grown close and he felt like he didn’t need to hide all of his ugly. He’d already taken you into his armoury and then the torture chambers. Aside from the iron rich smell of the blood he watched and listened for something to change about the way you felt about him. But your hand only slipped into his in search of protection and assurance. Your eyes never wavered when you looked at him. Feyd never found you shrugging out of his touch. Somehow this felt different, it was different in every way. Unlike weapons, poisons and his violent delights there was no eminent danger to you. Weapons had to be deployed to be dangerous, his Harpies were anything but safe. They were creatures that lived for his satisfaction and held more bloodlust than even Feyd himself. Unlike most pets, Feyd’s Harpies survived on the flesh of his enemies. Feyd was their only friend. He was the only person they refrained from hissing at, snarling, snapping or biting. His were the hands that fed them and he seldom went to them empty handed. Seeing them gorge didn’t disgust him but it would disgust you. Feyd knew that from the moment he bit into a rare steak on your first night together.

“Feyd please I want to meet them” you ask employing doe eyes knowing they’re his weakness.

“They’re unpredictable, territorial and jealous” he rasps closer to a no than he’s ever been. He looks away and you get out of bed heading to the window to watch the double sun rise on the Giedi Prime.

“Come away from the window” Feyd hisses and you do padding over to him slowly. It’s the speed you can manage after being the subject of Feyd’s insatiable appetite for your flesh. His eyes roam over your naked body. His chest rises and falls as he holds out a hand to stop you. Your feet rest on the cold black tile as he gets out of bed closing the distance to you.

“Don’t you ever, show anyone what’s mine” his tone is harsh while the hold he has on your chin is soft.

“I let you have all of me freely and yet, you do not trust me with your Harpies” you whisper, holding his dark eyes. His conscience plays at him and he swallows his jaw clenching.

“Will you withhold from me should I hold fast in my position and not allow a meeting?” Feyd raises his hairless brow.

“No” you respond without needing to think it over. “But it will hurt,” you confess, grabbing a robe.

——

Your heart rate triples as you enter the forbidden sect of Feyd-Rautha’s quarters. You hear sharp whispers and laughter. You hold a covered platter of liver, the Harpies’ second favourite food according to Feyd. You press the doors open and all three of them are still until they realise you are not Feyd. Their movement is unlike anything you’ve ever encountered and one of them hisses showing off black teeth and gums. Another comes with a raised hand but stops dead in its tracks. Their eyes go white in the centre of their black orbs before dilating back to black. They smell their master all over you.

“I brought you food” you whisper while holding the platter out. The third Harpy takes the platter from you and the smell of the meat snaps them out of the daze caused by your intrusion for a moment. They eat savagely, licking the plate as you watch on in wonder.

“Masters newest pet” one says and you nod. “You smell just like him,” it says, causing you to blush. You’d had a shower prior to this visit and yet it’s done nothing to free you from the scent of Feyd.

“You let him come see us” another says and you nod.

“She isn’t disgusted by us or jealous” another one says looking at you with wide eyed wonder.

“No, you don’t disgust me” you correct. “I love Feyd and he loves you, I just wanted us to meet” you explain and they smile. You hear steps in the distance and they pick up. As Feyd’s concubine you know danger is everywhere and panic. Cold hands grip your arms dragging you behind the large black couch in the centre of their room. Weapons materialise in each of their hands, as well as snarled teeth and violent expressions. You hide, doing as you’ve been instructed only silence befalls the room as the doors open. You count to ten before looking over the couch to see Feyd. His anger fades into amusement as he sees his Harpies ready to defend you with their life. The image of you hiding and them ready to defend you brings him too much amusement. All of his most beloved possessions in one place. You stand and go to walk over to him when one of the Harpy’s grabs you again.

“He’s upset,” she warns, familiar with Feyd’s violent temper.

“I will take her punishment” one of them proposes, causing Fey’s lip to curl up in a smirk.

“No, it’s alright” you say, holding her arm. They all gasp at the gesture. The physical touch and connection most people are terrified to participate in. All four of them pile into a group hug holding you and purring all around you. It’s an overwhelming amount of affection. They purr for a few minutes before turning to Feyd with angry eyes.

“I won’t punish her,” he says, picking his battles wisely. Once you say your goodbyes the Harpies let you go.

“Come back soon!” The one with doe eyes calls before the door is shut. Looking up, Feyd stands in his regalia withholding a smile. You take a deep breath in anticipation of his punishment but he holds a hand out. You slip your hand into his and he smirks.

“Don’t disobey me again” Feyd warns.

“I didn’t, you never told me I couldn’t come at all” you correct and he brings your hand to his lips kissing your fingers softly.

“Tread lightly” he warns and you stop to look up at him. Moving from his side to in front of him you reach your hands up wrapping them around his neck. His head bows automatically. Feyd can’t find anything but utter devotion to him in your eyes. It’s what makes him relent. He pulls you to him by your waist.

“You’re good just as long as you never forget that nobody and nothing adores you more than me” Feyd hisses. Smiling you nod hoping he knows the feeling is mutual.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading all of you Feyd lovers 🖤🖤🖤🖤. Something quick and easy🩶🖤 Let me know if you liked it!

COMMENT, LIKE & REBLOG

[darilarostarg]

To Taste

Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

Summery: Daemon sees a pretty little Lady at a feast, and cannot help himself. 

Warming: SMUT, this is literally just pussy eating lol episode five took a toll on me

Words: 686

He didn’t mean for it to happen. His plan was to take his fill of wine and then somehow get himself to the nearest brothel. But then he saw you. Sitting alone at the end of a table, as your older husband gorged on the feast and ignored you entirely. Last time he did this, he was banished for nearly six moons after nearly causing an uprising in the Westerlands after he was caught balls deep in the daughter of Lord Reyne, two moons before she was to be wed. But you just looked so pretty, so soft, so lonely…he honestly couldn't help himself.

So here he was, on his knees, your skirts gathered around your waist, under a damp and drafty stairwell in the Tower of the Hand, with nothing but the sound of dripping water and your pretty moans. With ease, he hooked one of your legs over his broad shoulder, forcing it to wrap it around his neck just as he sinfully runs his tongue between your gooey folds; it's just as much a treat for him as it is for you. Daemon enjoyed eating out for his own pleasure, he got off on how responsive ladies were to his fingers and tongue.

"Such a sweet, little cunny," he muses as he comes up for air, eyes flitting up to your face just before he's enveloping your clit to his mouth. Your juices continue to coat chin, making it easier for him to slip his tongue downwards and glaze over your needy hole. He loved how your body melts into his ministrations, searching for more pleasure by carding your fingers through his long silver hair to press his face further into your folds.

“My Prince,” you sigh, head lolling back into the wall when he stiffens his tongue to then dip it inside of you. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and ass, making sure he can keep you spread enough for him to slightly nudge his nose against your clit as he moves his tongue within you.

Your fingers tighten on his roots, pushing his head back a bit and pressing him closer to you. At the same time, your hips are bucking softly after he slips two fingers into your heat, pulling his tongue from you to flick it against your clit.

Daemon can feel your leg start to weaken in stance while your other does as predicted: tightens around the back of his neck. He wouldn’t be able to pull away from the taste of you if he tried.

He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, gliding over that soft spot that has your knees buckling and breath hitching in the back of your throat. He knows how to toy with you, giving you more and more but making sure you don’t fall over the cliff without his permission. The art to his pleasure was menacing, but one he’s learned to master throughout his time in brothels, and his own, as well as other Lord’s beds. Daemon had always taken his time with his lovers… to explore, to satisfy, to taste.

The decision is split second: Daemon places your other leg onto his shoulder and keeps you pressed to the wall for him to devour. You let out a small gasp of shock at the sudden movement, but that is soon overshadowed by a long moan escaping due to him managing to slip three fingers into you while his ring covered pinky ghosted over your other hole.

However, this wasn’t your undoing, for that only arrived when he pulled his lips back a bit to spit on your clit before tonguing down the bundle of nerves and continuing to open you up on his fingers.

“Daemon! Oh, fuck! oh, fuck! Ohhh, fuck,” you whine as quickly as you can muster, both hands sinking deep into his hair so your nails scratch along his scalp as your thighs clamp tightly around his head. The feeling causes him to groan into your pussy, reeling in the pain as he plunges you into the fiery pits below.

Authors Note:

Little mini blurb as a treat in celebration of the season finale! I am currently re-working my OC story, so I haven't been writing much else recently, but trust a sex scene will always make me wiggle out of my little dark hole.

My masterlist can be found by click here!

You can add yourself to my taglist here or ask in the notes!

Taglist: @yn-jackson@ilikechocolatemilkh@velathaheigeros@anthonys-viscountess@multiversemayhemme

[diejager]

4 when requests r open.. How wld u Feel abt a bear hybrid reader who’s slick is .. Honey ? 👁️

—🍯

Cw: weirdly sweet cum???, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, tell me if I missed any. Honey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours??

Perhaps you shouldn’t have eaten so much honey, the sweet goodness that you indulged in when it was given to you in abundance, a rare treat to normal bear but a common dish to you. You loved honey like Pooh liked it, always seen with a small jar and lips stained with the sweet treat, tasting as sweet as honey whenever they walked up to kiss you, pressing themselves so close to you and lips devouring any groan from you, tongue lathering your lip to taste the honey from it and steal a taste of you from your mouth.

Gaz and Soap had always liked the sugary taste of you, your honeyed lips, your honeyed tongue and honeyed mouth, every part of you was sweet, a sugary treat to men like them when you were a big and grizzled bear. A Kodiak bear with both size and strength, but a soft and tender heart, and even sweeter lips that Gaz loved kissing and biting whenever he crossed your path, pulling you by the collar and passionately kissing you. A gentle but powerful wave crashing against you for something as simple as a taste and affection, his hands wandering down and holding you against him by the waist. Soap was more eager than Gaz, rough and devouring with his kiss, chaining you to his body by the hips, hands teasingly grasping at your ass and grinding against you to instigate you, push you further into his arms.

Then you found yourself always so, so sensitive, your core spiking in a strong pulse, sharp and boiling. You blamed it on the Scot, who couldn’t hold his tongue after he ate you like a starved man, left to dry out and hunger without food or water, gorging himself on your now sugary slick, the old tangy and salty flavour turned soft and sweet as honey. He shared it with Ghost, who had manhandled you to his room, stripping you naked and spread over his cold sheets while his tongue laved across your slit, the tip teasing your clit with soft circles and dipped into your drooling cunt. He groaned and moaned at the taste of you, burying himself between your thighs, nose bumping your throbbing nub and tongue curling deep inside of you to pull more sweet slick from your warmth and down his throat. 

From Ghost, it reached Gaz, who’s ears practically perked up at the temptation, sliding from one darkened wall to the other until he found you in the rec room with a small cup of honey and a finger in your mouth. He was rather forceful - surprisingly strong against your bear-like strength - in his demand, bending you over the counter, ass upturned and head buried in your arms while you mewled and panted, left a victim to Gaz’s skillful tongue. The way he dove in and curled, swirling your sweet slick around his tongue and drinking it all in, his lips placed firmly around your fluttering hole, drinking your cum like he would water. 

The from him, Price was the last to be aware, ordering you to his office for a taste. You sent his papers and pens to the floor, your flaying arms knocking things over in your search for purchase while he held you down by the hip, groaning when you closed your thighs around his head and fingers pulling his hair, locked in and tugging him closer and closer. He murmured praises, complimenting you for your magical body —one of a kind, he said, to have one’s slick tasting like honey. 

They left you panting and limping, walking around the halls with a powerful throb between your legs after every servings, grumbling under your breath at their insatiable tongues. Perhaps you shouldn’t have made it a habit, now that they made it a show of stocking up your reserve of honey with bigger and larger containers, grins stretching the corners of their lips. 

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[belphegorey]

⌜power, asmodeus⌟ his long wait had only caused him to need more ships ⎯⎯ asmodeus x afab!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, masturbation [asmo], unprotected sex, biting, slight nipple play, praise, pact marks, simp asmo who is poly, i haven't slept so errors im assuming

The Avatar of Lust was many things; beautiful, seductive, caring… but he was not desperate. The very word was an insult to his very character. Desperate. He was not greed, he was certainly not envy — Asmodeus was pure lust. 

Others with his need may resign to the fate of need, but not him. Never him. Asmodeus could have anyone throughout the entire Devildom should he choose, all it would take was a smile and wave of his fingers. They were the ones desperate for him. Never the other way around. 

Until you. Pesky, gorgeous, witty you. Someone with patience high enough to tolerate Mammon, someone with care enough to forgive Belphegor… someone completely unattainable. Since he had met you, Asmodeus knew that you were someone he wanted. Another person that he could entertain himself with whenever the feeling hit (a constant emotion) and someone he could enjoy spa days with. 

But — nothing! He was granted nothing. Your joined spa days always ended with your declining if a shared bath. The shared meals never involved you licking his fingers of sweet dessert. The days wandering together through RAD didn’t include misadventures of exploring one another in abandoned rooms. 

Had it been anyone else, Asmodeus would have won. He would have awarded himself the pleasure of his victory. But not with you. You rejected his every advancement, danced with his flirting and ignored the growing need he felt with every passing day. His head was heavy. What was he to do? He craved you, the taste of your sweet skin below him as he gorged on the sin you allured. 

None of the others he sought out satiated the carnal need. The succubi he would tempt never held the same shine in their eyes that you had. The moans of each demon he fucked were not the exact right pitch. 

Asmodeus was desperate. He had long since given up on attempting to replace you. It only made him need you more. He laid alone in his canopy bed, curtains pulled taught in bows and the lights dim. The air was sickly hot on his body, he felt the sweat glisten down his naked skin. 

The fire of his lust burned hot within him. All day, the longest day he could recall, Asmodeus had tasted the delicious taste that was your need. Leftover remnants from your nightly adventures with… not him. All his brothers had found you, had taken you, had gorged themselves on your love. It would not bother him, it should not be, but the agony he felt was overwhelming. 

Weeks. He had survived weeks of being deprived of sex. And the only thing he was gifted were the crumbs of his brothers that radiated in your form. Why did they get to feel you first? They could never treat you correctly. Asmodeus was the ultimate personification of lust. No one could topple his throne. 

Yet, even if he had just been given an invitation to watch, he would have agreed with complete eagerness. An invitation to join in would have been a glorious dream. And still there was nothing! Not even a footnote for dear Asmodeus. 

He licked his lips. Even the crumbs of your lust were a delicacy. Still, he could smell your arousal through the home, even when his bedroom had never been granted the proper treatment, he could feel it around him. 

Downstairs, most likely in your own bedroom, but not alone. Asmodeus could recall the previous week when he had stayed in your bed with you for the night. Just sleeping. Yet, tonight it was… Lucifer… in your chambers with you. The musky scent that was the eldest’s lust wafted around with your lingering desire. 

Asmodeus closed his eyes and moaned as he cascades his hand down his stomach. He allowed himself the fantasy. You and he, tangled together in your cute little bed, watched by the envious Lucifer.

No. No, he needed you alone. He had been tortured enough, he could show off your pleasure in repeating days. Your scent was growing, the scent that was once turning weak shone bright. Asmodeus bit his lip and ran a finger along the slit of his erection. How mortifying. Self-gratification was not something he did. Why masturbate when he could instead have sex?

It would do. The weakness in his veins from his sudden abstinence could not continue. The beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as Asmodeus bucked into the grip of his hand. Desperation. Envy. Need. It was as though he was Leviathan, but even he had been able to taste you. 

He fantasised you on top of him. Thighs around his hips, bare cunt pressed to his erection and leaking with the desire he could smell. You would be so worried, just as you had been all day about his state of wellness (the missed skin care routine had been an obvious sign, he assumed) and you would treat him with such care. Your hands, nice and cold, along his face and caressing him while he leaned in to the touch. 

Even though Asmodeus would feign a worse state of weakness, you would allow him. You would sigh and giggle at his flirting and whimper at the twitching of his erection against you. “Just your touch is healing me, my love,” before a false cough that would make you pout. Your sweet kiss would follow, something he had only felt once before. 

He still fondly dreamed of the kiss, even though the moment was bittersweet. A goodbye. He had been so scared he would never see you again. The months that followed, with you missing from the Devildom, were torturous. More torturous than knowing you were with his brothers not him. 

Asmodeus rubbed the head of his cock with a whimper. Oh, how he craved you. The darling flower that tantalised his garden. The one who he was unable to charm. The beauty to compliment his own. His erection twitched in his palm, slick precum slipping between. 

You would look even more magnificent with the very cum glistening on your face. Others could not smell the desire as well as he, the would need the visual reminder. It was not that you were his alone, but it was best they had knowledge of your favourite demon to fuck. The one you loved most. Him. 

Perhaps he was greedy for you. Asmodeus felt himself shiver in excitement just at the idea of getting to say you were his. Both if you would be shared, but, just like the previous week, it was only you who would share his bed at nights. 

You were moving. Upstairs now, far closer to his bedroom. He could smell you better now. The intricacies, no longer clouded by the musk of Lucifer, was overwhelming his senses. His body gyrated just at the taste in his tongue. So unfiltered, raw, carnal. Unlike anything else he had tried. The strength… you must have completely drenched the underwear you wore. Better yet, there was nothing and all the need was slipping down your thighs.

He was sure that even his brothers would be able to feel the sin along your aura. It was that magnificently strong. He moaned into his hazy room, you were such a powerful sorcerer and yet you were still so soft with the world. Your gentle hands could lock him in place with a single wave, your lips could command him with ease, and yet you preferred to do neither. Such calmness to control the ocean of power. 

You walked up to his room, he could sense your feet pause before his door. Was it… him you finally wanted to see? Asmodeus nearly lost control just at the idea. Pearly white droplets spilled into his stomach, only a few to glitter his skin like stars in the sky. Still you hadn’t moved — it was torture on his mind. 

Did you want to tell him off for letting himself weaken?

Did you want to punish him for being so selfish?

Did you want to take care of him?

Did you finally wanted to touch him like he needed to touch you?

Asmodeus fisted the duvet beneath his sticky skin, using the closed grip of his hand on his cock as a fleshlight. He hadn’t the strength to collect his actual toys from the collection across his room. Already, he felt the beginning sparks of rejuvenation across his chest. Your sweet desire was the key. His blood was boiling and his inferno raged on. 

“Asmo?” Just the sound of your voice had him groaning. No one could mimic it. Not even the best of shapeshifting demons could. You slipped into his room without hesitation, closing the door behind you. 

A sweet gazelle entering the den of a lion. Asmodeus was almost scared for you, but the undeniable pleasure that came from you just being near him triumphed. He grew giddy, blessing his face with a sweet smile despite how his hips continued to gyrate. 

“My love,” his voice was raspy, Asmodeus frowned due to it. There was none of his usual lilt, the airy joy he spoke with. He was sure that even his talent in seductive speech craft would suffer, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He couldn’t stop himself from continuing. Even as you walked closer and your face illuminated in the sun candlelight around him. The sparkle in your eyes made his heart burn and his spine shiver. Each moment you gazed down at him, Asmodeus felt the tingle of his love burn down his skin. The sounds were so beautiful. Each wet thrust of his cock into his fist, now gazed upon by your beauty, glee flourished within him. 

You weren’t questioning him. It was not the first time you’d walked in on one of them masturbating. He could still remember the adorable blush on Leviathan’s cheeks the morning after you had interrupted him. But he was not so shy. Asmodeus would never be embarrassed by something as beautiful as sex — as lust. 

“Can I…” a cute pause entered your speech as you admired him once more. He felt so proud, so loved, it was as though your sweet worship was being played before his throne. He let his eyes fall shut under your eyes, blissfully moaning as he followed the pleasure within him. 

When your soft, cool, hand cupped his cheek, Asmodeus only whimpered louder. He knew, he knew, that you would be the glorious treatment to his burning need. There was a dip in the bed, his body leaned to follow, but Asmodeus did not question you. Never. Whatever you desired, he would happily provide. 

He heard the sweet stammer in your tone, it made his heart melt in delight. Such sweet sin drifted from your pores and onto his lips. “… No, let me help.” Confidence. How beautiful. You straddled him, thighs pushing against his plush mattress and your wrist halting his hand. Asmodeus opened his eyes, almost in disbelief just so he could take in the glory above him. 

The sight would never be matched. It must be how those lower felt when gazing upon him. The candles around you both made an angelic glow. The cascade of your hair was the shadow of the lust between you. The sparkle in your eyes… they were stars he watched each night. “You want to help me, darling?”

You had listened to him — right atop his aching erection was the slick paradise he had wished for, completely free of underwear. The short nightgown you wore was nice and thin, your nipples were hard against the material. No wonder even Lucifer had fallen to your charm. There would be no one strong enough to survive. “I know you need it, love,” the words were mere whispers in the thick air between you. Your back arched straight as you rubbed yourself against him. Sweet wetness coated his dick, teasing him as he grew closer. “We both do.”

Asmodeus felt his eyes roll back. How long had it been since he lost control over grinding? It had never been his favourite act to play, not when there was so many he could use to entertain everyone. Yet, the will in your words and the delicious taste of your lust was convincing him of more. “I’ve needed you for a very long time.”

“As have I,” you lifted your crotch from his for only a moment, the healing hand positioning his dick for him. Such determination clouded your eyes, thick lust burning in glorious pink. The pact mark along your chest, above the heart he had longed for, matched in colour. It’s hue glowed through your gown and cast your face in beauty.

To know you wanted him. It nearly felt impossible. So many times had he offered you more, even grew close to begging, and you gave him nothing. A giggle, a light shove of his shoulder — at most a kiss on his cheek. Nothing to show him that his desire was returned. “My angel -“

“Silence, Asmodeus,” slowly he felt you take his tip. The Celestial Realm had no pleasure quite like yours. He was always happy for sex, always enjoyed it, but he was not prepared for this. It was different yet so familiar. His senses burned in the lust shared between you. “Let me take care of us both.”

He placed his hands on your body, groping at every nip of skin he could. His mouth was open, pleasure rocking his heart in the ocean of need. Weeks without sex had caused complete weakness in his body, and yet it was entirely worth it. 

Asmodeus would even do it again if it meant getting to have you all over again. 

Your hips dropped and met his, a short moan blessing his ears. All he could feel was the tingle of glory all around him. Overwhelming in how snug you were, how wet and eager you were. He watched your head fall back, the glow of his candles now brighter behind your beautiful shadow. 

“All I’ve been thinking about is you, Asmo,” his hands slipped up your torso. Even with that tug in his gut threatening his long pent-up release, Asmodeus took his time to dance his fingers along your skin. The sparkle of sweat beaded on your skin just as it did his own. A memento if the union you shared. When he found your breasts, he was no worse than Mammon in his greed. “You have no idea just how hard it’s been denying you.”

Asmodeus sat up, the tingle in his spine burned in a powerful roar. He felt stronger than he had in days. Weeks, even. His hair bounced along his forehead, baby hairs sticking just barely to him. The power of lust was powerful. Far more powerful than people gave him credit for. Lust was raw. It was pure passion. Passion that Asmodeus wanted to shower you in for a millennia. 

His lips found your nipples over the thin gown. Your sweet gasp was everything, the burning pink beneath only glowing brighter. You bounced on him, snug and warm as you taunted him further. Asmodeus retaliated with a roll of his thumb over your other nipple, grazing his teeth on the skin. He could feel the wings crack through his back, only slowly as his power refilled. 

“My demon,” your voice was a high lilt of pleasure as you rode him. Asmodeus moved with each bounce to push himself deeper. Each clench and whimper made his ego fly. The sweetest of giggles played between you, and he couldn’t stop from joining in. Though his shared giggle was muted against your breast, he could feel the way your heart sped. Such a similar effect you had on him. The honorary angel to his wicked demon. 

You moved like a succubus as you pushed him back down against the bed. His lips fell from your breast and dismay had him frown. Only for the sweet taste of your lips to slot against his. Slightly chapped, as delicious as the sin you created, and so perfectly you that Asmodeus moaned against you. 

He helped you bounce your hips, squeezing the swell of your ass that had taunted him for far too long. Every outfit you wore, each one he chose for you, never showcased it enough. You broke away to gasp at his hands, but Asmodeus chased your lips back to his own. 

So long. He had dreamed of your kiss for months. Years at this point. It was just as good as your cunt around him. It felt like power even flowed through the tangle of your sweet kiss. “Allow me the honour,” he whispered, hands making your hips move faster. 

Each movement was almost sloppy in its speed, though that was were the beauty came from. Sex was a work of art, and you were the finest painter he had found. The sweet symphony of your shared noises would haunt Asmodeus every moment he was gifted the opportunity to see you. The glow of the candles around you was a visage he could never forget. You — he could never forget. 

The press of your chest against his felt fantastic, your nipples almost rolling with each jump of your body. He could feel it, you were almost at the top of your peak. Asmodeus was almost fanatical as he moved you both. The chase was never his favourite part, but yet again he was questioning it all. 

Your body was just perfect on top of him. The squeeze of your cunt, the breathy way you moaned, and the warm gaze you watched him with… perfect. His thumb circled your clit, admiring how your body danced for him in response. Your lip wobbled as you pressed kisses to his collarbone, pleas whispered against him. 

And when it happened, Asmodeus felt rejuvenated in power and life. Your squeal was pitched high and almost silent from how you rubbed against his neck. Your body shuddered in his hands, warm cum slipping down his shaft. He let himself fall in tandem. His wings broke through the skin of his back as his cum spilled inside of you. Your name fell from his lips as he moaned in ecstasy, holding you closer than he had before. 

© belphegorey 2024 ⌜18+ banner from @/cafekitsune thank you <3⌟

also ⎯⎯ what happened between lucifer and you is that he walked in on you masturbating you dirty bitch [affectionate I love u mwah] and then said go check on asmo before running away also also ⎯⎯ i can’t remember if it’s canon or not but i do have this headcanon that asmo lowkey works similar to an incubus where he can deprive power from sex. it won’t kill him without but he is stronger when having sex/orgasmed 

[bruhstation]

steam team's seniors during their baby years

A friend group so weird and toxic to people they dislike it could rival It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia’s. They're not immune to the "I came to Sodor to avoid my problems and wanted a fresh start" trope many Sudrians also follow

Edward Pettigrew

Age: 31 as of 1984

A kind, friendly NWR railwayman who didn’t mind a lot of things and was popular amongst younger folks for his looks and demeanor. He likes showing newbies the ropes of the NWR and Sodor as a whole because he just loves infodumping. Despite being made fun of by some railwaymen for his “weirdness”, Edward worked hard and was known as the jack-of-all-trades by his peers, usually treating younger and newer railwaymen to drinks after work to get them accustomed to Sodor (he did this to Henry, then Gordon, then James). Originally from the village of Pezë in Tirana, Albania, 1940s. Due to his beginnings in a small rural village and the Albanian government’s censorship of outside influences and heavy restriction of traveling outside the country, Edward’s hunger for knowledge about the world grew more and more. His family had connections to the Lëvizja Nacional-Çlirimtare and Edward’s particularly bright and good at talking, so he became a diplomat to travel outside Albania – a step into his plans of learning more about the world. After landing himself in the United Kingdom and studying everything he wanted, he believes it’s still not enough. He found out about an island infamous for its supernatural occurrences and cases of people missing just off the coast of the UK – Sodor. Being the curious man he is, he discarded everything that’s needed for the LNÇ to locate him and landed on Sodor, gorging himself with every mystery the island has to offer. Impulsive? Yes. But for the first time, Edward felt true freedom. However, Edward got too curious and nosy and became a casualty in an accident fueled by supernatural hysteria related to Lady of the Legend and was transported around 40 years into the future, landing in 1983 with his memories all over the place. Despite losing his sense of self and having no idea what he is, his thirst for knowledge still lives on inside his head. His cheerfulness, amicability, and kindness are extensions he formed to make up for the hole inside his heart. Edward does love his friends, but he believes that if he can withhold information from them and make them all live in blissful ignorance, they can be truly happy – this all stems from his fear of exceeding his limits and being discarded (which he later copes by being a typical wise friendly old man in 1999). He often sees visages of Lady in his dreams.

Gordon J. Gresley

Age: 26 as of 1984

Joined after Henry. Looked like he was fresh out of a funeral. A young hotshot who was more polite, quiet, and reserved compared to his 1999 counterpart. Gordon started out as an apprentice fireman for the Wild Nor’Wester’s previous driver. He treated his arrival on Sodor as a desperate last resort to escape his issues and grief and pitifully believed he was “lumped with the social pariahs in the boonies”, but he’s gotten better and believed that this is where he can truly outshine everyone, much to the annoyance and chagrin of his seniors. Gordon acts like he knows what he’s doing in order to build up his image as someone who’s dependable and strong and revels in small basks of limelight. However, he was constantly uncomfortable with how Edward treated accidents as normal due to their survivors being in tip-top shape the next day and how Henry is so distrustful of and odd about everything and everyone and sweats 24/7, but he’s been masking and convincing himself that he’s not like the rest of them. He’s normal. He’s normal! Let’s all hold hands. Don’t be fooled by his sad face. Young Gordon can be arrogant and think he knows everything for being a youngin.

Henry Stanier

Age: 27 as of 1984

Joined after Edward, so he’s quite close to him. Gordon’s “senior” by 6 months. He’s always, ALWAYS scared endlessly about anything “out of the ordinary” and beats himself up over it, much to his own disgust. Henry had a deep rooted hatred and jealousy towards his peers for pitying him after a coworker revealed to other railwaymen that he’s narcoleptic without his permission. He’s been masking his disabilities despite it being detrimental for his well-being, but as long as people treated him “normally”, Henry would endure (dreadfully). He did this especially with Gordon, the newest addition to the Northwestern Railway at the time, because he didn’t want anyone else to treat him differently when they find out about his health issues. As an extention, Henry developed a vitriol towards Gordon too – he’s particularly jealous about how he’s so “ungrateful” of everything’s given to him like his fair looks, clothes, and position as the to-be face of the Wild Nor’Wester. They did become friends though despite the process not being easy. It’s okay. They became besties that were mean to old nosy folks. Initially wanted to pursue arts, but due to circumstances from his past related to his health and paranoia fueled by his past failures and “jinxes”, he came to Sodor as a half-hearted last resort to get a job. He wasn’t hopeful of having anyone respect him for who he is, but things do get better, much to his surprise.

James A. Hughes

Age: 25 as of 1989

Joined the NWR 5 years after Edward did. At that point, Gordon already discarded his GNR Green look and went for the blue attire (minus the big coat). Flaunts his beauty almost at any given time, especially when someone mildly complimented him. He’s more of a nerd (word used loosely because he acts like a know-it-all when he actually has no idea what he’s doing) compared to his canon, 1999 counterpart. James came to Sodor for a fresh start and believed he deserves more than what he’s given. He thinks he’s so tough and hard as nails – in fact it became his source of hubris because he gets into accidents and was scolded by his seniors for being so vain and stubborn. He doesn’t want to get dirty, he doesn’t want to shovel coal, he doesn’t want to get wet from the washdown suds – he only wants the good out of the work and doesn’t want to accept the “bad” sides as well, so James was branded as the “problem kid” of the NWR by older folks. James, who can’t handle harsh criticism and labels well, grow even more distant with them. He primarily hangs out with the RWS trio because they seem to understand his situation and the feeling of being “outcasted” (despite Gordon’s annoyance at his boastfulness). 

[yanderemommabean]

Am I the only one who needs to be strapped down by the wrists and ate out against my will by alpha elias while I struggle to not show how good everything feels and beg for him to stop despite my arching body telling him the opposite?

Bonus if he flips darling over, jerks their hips upwards and sets a teasing pace with one hand pushing their upper body down so they can’t do anything but arch backwards into him and grip the sheets for dear life. All the while licking a stripe up their neck before burying his teeth into their nape to mark them, growling possessively when they refuse to moan for him, digging deeper and thrusting into them harder until they whimper in submission.

Bonus Bonus if it’s Doc Lee’s butterfly and he’s made to watch, threatening to cum inside them if he looks away.

((Female reader! Hope you beans can enjoy!))

“You’re so cute when you try to fight this” The deranged man murmurs against your skin, ice once again filling your veins as his fingers come to clutch at your thighs to spread them apart, massaging the meat and fat of them as he soaks in the sight of you, bare and open, ready for him to gorge himself on.

“The fact no one has kissed every scar and told you they were beautiful paint strokes on your canvas, shows me there’s truly less hope for humanity than I thought” Elias praises as his fingers begin to trace up and down your hips and the apex of your thighs. “Every pretty vein, every mark and mole, every scar from small to large deserves to be savored and kissed. You’re a beautiful soul who does nothing but give and give and give” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “Such battle scars. Gorgeous even if they came from a time of hideous treatment to you”.

You feel his warm breath against you while your bindings only tighten, holding you still as the maniac worships you, praises you like you’re truly a relic or a god, as if He truly believed you gave him a purpose. You were ashamed of how your breath was stolen from you, his nimble fingers hardly touching you yet bringing out such pleasure, even when in such a state of panic.

“I know you say you don’t want this, that you only have feelings for that rat of a doctor…But I know he’s just simply brainwashed you. He doesn’t know how to treat you, hoards you like an object rather than spoil you like a lover”.

You spit something out to him, but the gag in your mouth doesn’t allow it to truly be heard. It's just more amusement for the psycho as you tremble and hiss like a terrified cat. How absolutely precious. Elias just grins, wicked and wild as he helps turn your head to face the right of you, where in the corner of the room, Lee had been bound and gagged as well, anger clear in his eyes and features as he venomously spews words that are muffled and garbled.

Elias just kisses down your bare body once again, amused and gleeful as the doctor struggles. “Oh don't tell me you thought this was a private show? Tsk tsk tsk then how would that doctor learn his lesson? No no my dear, he’s going to watch, and you are going to be good and put on a good show. I’d hate to have to take his fingers or pull his teeth, but if you insist on misbehaving…I can give it a shot”.

Oh god he was serious. Lee wouldn’t ever be caught, not by someone so easily. But again, Elias isn’t just anyone. He’s at this facility for a reason. His hand comes to cup your warmth, slowly letting his fingers spread your lips so he could feel the dewy skin, shuddering as he breathes in your scent. “Don't be too in your own head, lovely. Just relax, let me take care of everything else. Lee will be fine, if he can behave. Don't worry your cute little head about it”.

You whimper at that, his fingers sliding up your folds to toy with your clit, his eyes molten and hot as they watched you writhe and gasp from just a few quick circles being rubbed. Cute. You must really be pent up if that's all that gets you going. Not that he minds, mind you. Sensitivity just means more fun for him.

“Good. So good for me. Look at you, arching into my touch already. I haven’t even done anything” he muses, sliding his body back down until your legs were once again around his head, not that they had much of a choice. He hears Lees grunts and muffled vulgarity, but pays it no mind as he drags his tongue up from your fluttering hole to your twitching clit, greedily sucking the bud while his shoulders relax.

Yes. This is exactly where he needs to be. Between your thighs while you use his face, make him your little toy to use and throw away when you’re done. But of course, Lee had to try and take that luxury away from him too. If he had it his way, well, you’d be doing a lot more room visits for him that’s for sure. He doesn't mind following the majority of rules in this place, but he draws the fucking line at Lee trying to take you away from him.

Listening to your moans and whimpers as his tongue happily laps away, it almost makes him forget that the doctor is in here, watching as he drinks your ambrosia. He almost hates that he’s here, listening to you, but having him just an arms reach away and unable to take you, it gave him a wicked feeling of amusement.

His soft petal lips suck on your folds, moving to suck on your little bud aggressively as you gasp and try to kick, the pleasure shooting up your spine being too much and making you go taut, before once again relaxing as he holds your legs still and drags his tongue through your wetness again and again like a thirsty animal, drool covering his chin as he loses himself and tries to show your body just how much he loves you, loves your smell, your warmth, your taste- everything about you was mouth watering.

You have fresh tears dripping down your beautiful face when his viper like eyes stare back up at you, and his cock only throbs harder. He loves sending you to such planes of bliss that it’s too much to handle. So much love that you can’t fathom, so you cry. Every time you climax, it’s a sign of how much you love each other, right? That has to be why your pretty eyes are so wet and weary. You just feel so much love, you don't know what to do.

Don’t worry. He knows exactly what you need.

His hands grip your legs more firmly, lifting them up so they rested on his shoulders as he completely loses himself in you, giving you no reprieve or break as his mouth gets to work, slurping, sucking, licking and swirling right where you need it to, bringing you to the edge and not just tipping you over- with how strong it felt you might as well have been launched off, your body arching and shaking as Elias still, rather obscenely, eats you out, helping you ride through the orgasm as he continues drinking you down and savoring you on his tongue.

It’s wet, his face is covered, sweat drool and your essence is dripping down his face as he pulls away to lick his lips, chuckling darkly as he rubs up and down your legs that were still shaking on his shoulders. “Did that feel good? You came so hard baby, looked so beautiful, so sexy. Just a few more and I think it’ll shake that stage fright, don't you? Then we can really show that doctor over there how your body should be worshiped”.

(Hey! engage in some way if you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought! Comments show I'm doing good, or what I can improve on :3 Thanks for reading! -Mommabean )

[koolades-world]

Happy Birthday Mc!

today is my birthday so I decided to make a special post in celebration! this usually won't happen but I figured I'd put in a little extra effort for the occasion!!!

Lucifer

"It's your birthday? Have my best wishes. Meet me in the garden behind the house after dinner. I have a surprise for you. See you then."

treats you to anything you said you wanted over the past year

expect flowers, a giant cake, and dinner at the fanciest place he could find

he feels like he doesn't appreciate you enough, so he practically treats you like royalty

lets you cuddle him to your hearts content <3

Mammon

"Happy birthday, human! What, did ya think I forgot? Of course I didn't. Here, I got this for ya. Get ready for a day of fun with your best man!"

so excited that it's your birthday and goes all out

he's never spent so much money on someone that wasn't himself before, but he couldn't thank you more for everything

makes sure you don't have to lift a single finger, even if you fight him on it

gives you a cute little birthday crown that he made himself, and of course, you wear it with glee

Levi

"Happy birthday! Gah, I hope that didn't sound stupid. I spent forever practicing... You're still listening!? Forget you heard that! This is for you. I hope you like it. It took me a month to decide."

he's so so nervous about giving you your gift, but he makes himself give it to you

he gives you merch for your favorite game that you never thought you'd see in person

also gifts you in game currency for your favorite gacha game since he understands the grind

at the end of the day, he gives you a tight hug before running off, embarrassed

Satan

"Good morning, love. Happy birthday. If you're ready, shall we go out for breakfast? You are? Perfect. I have the day planned just to your liking."

he's got the entire day planned, including all your favorite things and romantic moments

each gift he gives is given at a specific time with a specific meaning

even organizes a trip to the human world so you can visit your family and friends

your day ends in his arms as he reads you a book

Asmo

"Happy birthday gorgeous! You look just amazing. Now, before you say anything, open this. Do you like it? Turn around so I can put it on you!"

totally takes you shopping! even goes as far as to rent out the entire store for you

photo shoot with all the fun new outfits you make

fancy dinner and a large party where you're the center of attention

of course, he pampers you at the end of the day with a nice bath and a massage

Beel

"Happy birthday, Mc. I wasn't really sure what to get you, so I hope you like it. There's a cake for you in the kitchen, but don't wait too long to eat it. I'm hungry."

thought very hard about what to get you, and ask around to get ideas

eventually, he decided to give you something small and offer to take you on a hike somewhere remote and beautiful

treats the day pretty much normal, until he reveals the cake that he made for you

it wasn't perfect, but it meant the world to you that he made it and didn't eat it

Belphie

"Ahh, happy birthday. Your first gift is in my room. What's with the surprise? Just because I sleep so much doesn't mean I'm forgetful."

secretly the best gift giver

he makes it so there's a surprise around each corner for you throughout your day

also gives you a beautiful handwritten letter

one of the few days he's actively awake the entire time

Diavolo

"Happy birthday, sunshine!! I know how much birthdays means to humans, so I went all out. Follow me to the first surprise!"

goes all out and makes the entire Devildom celebrate!

makes it a holiday and gives everyone the day off, so he has more time with you

except the biggest celebration you've ever had

researches into human birthday traditions and plans a cute party including a pinata

Barbatos

"Mc, happy birthday. May your day be filled with many joys. The cake I made for you should be just to your liking. I hope you'll enjoy it."

gives you a beautiful hand made card with his gorgeous calligraphy

treats you to a fancy tea party! super fancy with all your favorite sweets

cooks you your favorite food <3

also says the cutest things to you that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world

Simeon

"Hello! Happy birthday! Lucifer told me you were having a party at the House of Lamentation later. Expect to see me there, but I hope you don't mind if I steal you for now?"

most of his gifts are handmade!

expect a cake he made and help with all your daily tasks so you can get to fun sooner

wants to make sure your day is perfect and extra special

prepares you a cup of hot chocolate at the end of the day for enjoying with your favorite movie

Solomon

"Happy birthday, my apprentice. Now, I know this is a little late, but what do you want for your birthday besides my company? Any potion you want made or wish you want granted? Oh, I can do that. Consider it done, beautiful."

pretends like he forgot your birthday at first, but does a 180 and showers you with all sorts of things

gets you a brand new coat that looks suspiciously like his and when you call him out, he acts like he has no clue what you're talking about

takes you to dinner somewhere casual, but treats you like royalty

he pampers you that night and feeds you dessert <3

Luke

"Happy birthday Mc! Will you open my gift right now? I'm so excited! Do you like it? I blessed it myself so those yucky demons won't be able to steal it. Really? Yay!"

so excited to celebrate with you!

he makes all your favorite desserts, and gives you a lot of little things he gather over the year for you

practically attaches himself to your side all day

talks your ear off!! and wishes you happy birthday at least five times and reminds everyone else to as well

[bellamer]

Lost Boys fans only treat Marko like a baby because he’s short when he’s literally the most aggressive in the group and it’s so annoying . Paul had to hold HIM back from fighting, he yeet a guy into fire and cheered about, he’s like the rest of the boys, a fucking mass murdering monster and would probably throw someone through a wall if they called him cute or adorable.

I can’t explain it in actual words, but like I’ll try. Fans treat him like that trope in yaoi or like almost any mlm ships where the taller characters are the aggressive and dominant ones while the shorter characters are automatically labeled innocent babies who are weak and frail and can’t do anything despite what canon says, canon is ignored and they base it off their looks instead because it’s too hard not to put heteronormative stereotypes on characters, idk I know what I’m trying to say but like I just woke up so give it a second

Anyways uwu-fying Marko just because he’s a small pretty boy is weird as hell considering he’s the most aggressive one or one of the most aggressive ones and if he caught someone doing it on the pier or wherever else they hang out he’d probably gorge himself on their blood specifically while yelling’OH IM SORRY IS THIS NOT CUTE ENOUGH FOR YA ?!?’ while they scream

I could even argue that Paul gets this treatment too because of his looks but you get the point

[gift-of-prophecy]

cemetery girl - mike schmidt

summary: mike works hard and deserves the best treatment, the reader gives that to him... and doesn't let up until he's crying and begging.

a/n: cross posted from ao3 (also @/gift_of_prophecy) fnaf changed my brain chemistry and this creation was born in the middle of the night when i saw it, i've just been too lazy to post it until now (also sorry about everything else i've promised to post, my brain is only letting me think about jhutch)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, kinda fluff, established relationship, overstim, bj, cowgirl, fem!reader, sub!mike schmidt

-----------------------------------☆★☆------------------------------------

His hands shot up to his face, covering his pathetic scrunched up expression, but his moans still seeped through his skin and filled the little bedroom. She hadn’t let up, mouth still playing with his cock like somehow blowing him was a treat for her. He’d already cum, already watched her drink him all in and now he was left on the brink of tears as she was practically french kissing his shaft, denying him time for refractory and instead somehow willing his dick to harden up against her soft lips.

“Please~” He whined, followed by a string of pants, this had to be some form of torture. “Ha… Why are you… why are you doing this?”

“Such a good boy,” She spoke between pecks, “So hard on yourself, you deserve someone treating you all nice,” Her eyes found his from between his legs, peering up at him like cat about to pounce, “Wanna make you feel good over and over and over.” The hypnotic mantra barely carried to his ears as she slobbered down his cock and took him to the back of her throat once again. He was milked dry, but still she sucked like she was trying to take something from him. The palm of her hand sent chills up his sweat slick body as it found rest on his balls, fondling and playing with them in her grasp. He bucked wildly, leaving her to gag happily knowing he had completely lost control over himself, too blissed out with pleasure to be shy and gentle. He couldn’t bear the sight of her on him: her cheeks hollowed out and her pink lips creating a delectably tight seal around his girth. Watching his dick get used like that, being at her will, knowing she wanted to treat him to a night of pleasure so drawn out and good that it felt torturous, he hit another peak. Only difference this time, he was shooting blanks. It was the first time something like that ever happened. While he wasn’t the most experienced in the world, the small handful of women he had had the chance to spend the night with never went further than sex that felt necessary; this… this was a catered experience, one that only happened because he was willing to spend all night tangled up with her. There were no risks with her, for once something in his life was simply rewards. In the moment, it would be shallow to call this love, to only say “of course I’d spend the rest of my life with this person” when they were gorged on his dick like their life depended on it, but he would have meant it. He would never have let himself be… free in this way if he hadn’t been fully committed to her body and soul. Mouth unyielding and love swelling in his chest, he knew this would be the longest night of his life. He was crying now. His face was wet with sweat and tears, this had to be what dying felt like. She pulled off of him with an un-suctioning pop. 

“Give me the word, sweet pea, I’ll stop,” She rose from the position she was crouched in, leaning forwards and taking his cheek in her palm, wiping away the wet. She looked like an angel with the backlighting from the moon. He couldn’t speak, just resigning to shaking his head. Who was he to stop her from having him just how she wanted? He found it criminal to deny her anything she wanted. She leaned down, pressing a chaste, borderline polite, kiss to his lips. “My sweet baby, you’re just gonna let me do anything to you, huh?” She gently laughed. That was definitely a soft way of calling your boyfriend a slut. Like a slut, he wildly nodded, words still trapped in the recesses of his throat behind moaning sounds he almost couldn’t believe were coming out of his mouth. She interlocked her hands with his before bringing her hips down to meet his and create a delicious friction on his cock between the lips of her pussy… how romantic. She ground down, sopping wet from seeing him become a crumpled mess of a grown man, grinding forwards and back. She moaned out with him now, maneuvering to just barely tease her clit on it in the process. His cock twitched against her. “He just doesn’t quit,” Again from the mockery, “Oh~ you’re twisted,” She wickidly grinned as if she were not enactor of his torture. 

“Yer evil,” He gritted out, not meaning a single pussy drunk thing he choked out.

“Awe come on… wanna ride that thick cock til I can’t feel my legs.”

“I don’t… I don’t have it in me…” His eyes were already rolling into the back of his head as she changed pace again.   

“We both know that that's not true,” She disapprovingly clicked at him through her teeth. She leaned forward, mouth beside his ear. “Then how come yer hard again?” She bit down on his earlobe and he groaned, thrusting his hips upward against her wet center.

“Need to be inside of you, please, please. I need it so bad,” The words were all spilling out now in a desperate fury as he felt how she was almost gushing over him, “All I ever wanted, come on, you said I was a good boy. Please~ please please, prove it, show me how good I am then, please~” She smiled, winning. Lifting her hips up, she sank down so unbearingly slowly according to the way he got immediately huffy, but that was the thing about sex with him, she was always forced to reacclimate to the deliciously tingly stretch of his girthy cock. It was nothing she would ever complain about: a delectable weepy boyfriend who always had these giant puppy dog eyes whenever he looked at you and the most perfect cock to ever be attached to a man’s body. She almost didn’t believe it when she saw it for the first time, he acted like no one ever let him know he was practically wielding a weapon when he got hard. She could fuck herself silly on it before she ever even hit her release, just filling her guts with it. 

“Fuck~” He was about halfway in as her walls began to flutter, sending insane sensations through an already raw dick. The burn had her head thrown back in ecstacy. Another moan spilled out and her pussy swallowed up his dick in one slick movement, bottoming out and feeling his dick throbbing within her velvet walls. She gave herself a moment, breathing in time with one another, eyes shut just focusing on the burn. Mike’s hands slipping from hers went unnoticed until a heavy handed thumb landed on her clit. A moan ripped from her throat at the sudden pressure. “Fuck, Mike, fuck, fuck.” Like a chain reaction, thrusting towards the fiery feeling of his digit on her had him shift inside of her and all at once, like a well oiled machine, they began to move in sync with one another, meeting each other in each thrust. His thumb made tight circles on her clit before her hand clamped around his wrist. 

“Wha-”

“Nuh uh, gonna cum with you… too pretty looking like this.” He wanted to tell her the same thing as he was watching her take him fully over and over again, “I was already too close watching you get worked up like that,” Who sent this angel to him? “Practically rubbing myself raw looking at you like that.” He was like porn to her, something she could sit back and watch get broken down by pleasure and cream her jeans over like some sort of horny teen. It was just so much sweeter that she got to be the one doing the breaking. She slowed her thrusts, now pulling herself all the way off and then sliding all the way to hilt; the life was being strangled out of him, there were more tears. His tip just barely kissed her cervix each time she filled herself and it made her shiver deliciously. “Fuck, so good, yer so good.” His dick would have gotten harder if it could have. Each pretty praise she sang of his made him want to flip her onto her back and pound her full of cum, but he couldn’t when he was so weak, completely at her mercy. She deserved the mind numbing pleasure tenfold compared to him, there couldn’t be anyone else on the face of the earth willing to dismantle a man piece by piece and take care of him every step of the way. To not humiliate him, but to brush his hair from his eyes and press warm, joyful kisses to his skin and prove that even after another difficult day, she’d still be there just for him. There was a pause as she bottomed out again, followed by a transition, a grinding, forwards and back. Her white knuckle grip released his wrist finally, his thumb immediately finding its place he knew so well. She squeezed so tightly around him now, constricting in a borderline masochist way that had Mike’s teeth gritting. Her body was thrumming as she approached a peak, his cock now manipulated deliciously to grind her g-spot to high hell and his calloused thumb waltzed in memorized circles on her clit. With shaking, trembling legs, she cried out as she came, pussy strangling and drenching his dick as her iron grasp had him orgasming once again. It was like he couldn’t breath as he fought to come down again, the thought crossed his mind of being stuck like this forever as it felt never ending in the moment, what tasty suffering he’d be sentenced to. She continued to grind as she rode out her high, panting and puffing, her tits heaving with each heavy breath. If he could have taken a photo… he would have, and he would have kept it on him at all times. There couldn’t be a better sight in the world, he was sure of it.

Slowing to a complete stop, she pulled herself off of him, resigning to the spot beside him on the bed. They breathed into a peaceful albeit sweaty silence. She stared over at Mike, at his pretty pussy drunk expression. 

“C’mere,” She gestured, opening her arms for him, the poor boy needed to be held after everything she had just put him through. He barely had the strength to scootch into her arms. She hummed a content laugh as he found his place resting on her chest. They both had arms around one another, tangled and grasping as if the other would go somewhere. “Thank you.”

“Thank me?” The pitch of his voice raised in shock briefly, “Whuddya mean?” He slurred, “Thank… thank you.”

“Jus, letting me do all that to you, letting down your walls enough to let me take care of you.” She petted his wavy mop of black hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head which he then in turn mimicked back by kissing the hot skin of her chest. “You deserve it.” His heart fluttered in his chest, wedding bells ringing in his ears. 

“No one deserves all this,” She let out a confused noise like she got something all wrong, “Deserves you. S’like you’re sent from heaven or something…” His words trailed off. 

“You need to get some sleep.” But she was sure he was asleep before she even finished her sentence, quietly breathing a bit deeper than before. She chuckled to herself, pressing another kiss to his head before letting her eyes close and drifting off with him.

[gainingfiction]

Heavily Used

Summary: This is a bit experimental (or weird), and maybe a bit predictable, but I had fun writing it. This is a story about an important relationship in a fat guy’s life, and the risk of taking things for granted. It’s also a story about coping (or not coping) with change.

Hope you enjoy!

~

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can only handle so much. It’s one thing to be taken for granted, that’s something we all have to live with. It’s just the total lack of acknowledgment, or even awareness that I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna snap and call it quits.

A little bit about me: I’m stylish, polished, and pretty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. Born in Poland, but my background is Swedish—I’m European, at heart. The name is Anders, but no one actually calls me that. I’m not super high-maintenance, once you figure me out, but everyone needs a little attention from time to time. Some tending.

Especially living with Max.

I’ve known Max for a while, and he’s not a bad guy. He can be a little rough sometimes, and maybe a little careless, but it doesn’t come from a bad place. I think it’s just a lack of self-awareness. And let’s be honest, that’s a common problem among pretty-boy jocks.

The trouble with Max is that he’s not the pretty-boy I once knew. He’s changed… he’s grown. I mean, he’s literally grown. Grown by about a hundred pounds, if I had to guess, and counting. Over the course of our time together, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his ass, and I’ll admit, it’s a great one. But, boy, he’s got a lot more ass for me to handle these days.

It’s not insurmountable, not yet at least. But I’m worried it’s getting there.

It started out simply enough, the innocent midnight snacks and occasional takeout treats. No problem, right? Twunks can afford to indulge a little, especially a hot commodity like Max. But then, you get comfortable. You settle into a routine, you let yourself go. That’s the thing about creatures of beauty: one minute you’re the hottest guy in town, trim and toned, with a golden tan and handsome face and perfect, silky hair. The sort of guy who only seems to exist in a Hollywood version of reality. But then, inevitably, something happens. Sometimes tastes change, or maybe you’re the one doing the changing.

I won’t deny, I’m not in the same shape I was when I entered Max’s life for the first time. Any long-term relationship comes with the normal wear-and-tear. Max, though, has taken it to a whole new level.

The little snacks become big snacks. The extra meals go from “occasional” to “frequent” to “everyday”. Gluttony takes over. A 32-inch waist becomes a 36-inch waist becomes a 40-inch waist; size-small shirts are discarded in the back of the closet, soon joined by ill-fitting mediums, and then by larges, stretched out of shape by a gut that won’t stop getting bigger. Max used to flit around the apartment like a bird; now he lumbers like an elephant, heavy footfalls and a slow, waddling gait. His own warning system—you can hear him coming.

On paper, I know I should be trying to help lighten the load. And it’s not like I’m totally unappreciated; there are days when he comes home from work, legs tired and arms loaded down with takeout, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy to have me. But it doesn’t last long. Once dinner’s over, I’m back to being ignored while he sits on the couch, gorging himself in front of the TV, until he comes around again to stuff his face at the next meal. Which, to be fair, is pretty often these days.

It sounds cruel, the way I talk about his escalating weight, his increasingly-indecent greed. I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish he’d consider how it might affect me. I have to live with him, and he’s starting to cramp my style. But it’s not like I can say anything. I just have to sit there in silence, while he eats and eats, grows and grows, piling on pound after excess pound. And the way he eats, moaning and licking and slurping… it’s downright pornographic.

250 starts to feel like a lowball as the months go by. He’s pushing me to my limits without even realizing it. I’ve never had to deal with a guy this fat before, a guy whose big, round bubble butt would hang over the side of even the most substantial chair. And I, personally, am not “substantial”. I’m pretty thin; it’s just how I was made. I thought Max was made that way, too.

I start trying to make my frustration known, but like I said, I can’t just come right out and say something. So I try a little subtlety; a small groan every now and then when he throws himself down at the dinner table for another round of hedonism. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He just keeps upping the ante.

And upping just about everything else: his pants size, his portion sizes, the size of his monster-truck ass and thunder thighs. They press together whenever he sits down, now, lard against blubber. Not like in the old days when his legs were lithe and lean. His moobs bulge against every tank top, his pudgy arms pack his sleeves, his love handles blossom over the top of every waistband like ripening tropical fruit.

In occasional moments of self-pity, I hazard a guess: how much does my man weigh now? 275 pounds? 300? Is he even trying to do something about it? Clearly not. He never works out anymore, unless you count working up a sweat over a third (or fourth, or fifth) slice of cheesecake. I honestly wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me. Or test me. But I know that’s crazy—like I said, sometimes I truly doubt he even thinks about what it’s like for me.

But the problem is getting harder to ignore; he really throws his weight around these days. He heaves himself up off the couch. He rests a hand on the front of his bulging belly, barely restrained by some poor, threadbare top, back arching forward from the strain of it all (he’s not a tall guy, which makes his increasingly S-shaped silhouette even more pronounced). He trudges from the living room to the kitchen and drops himself in front of the table like an anvil. When he sits down, his ass, spilling out of some indecent pair of jean shorts, spreads out like lava blanketing some hapless Roman hamlet.

Some nights, I strain underneath him, feeling absolutely crushed by his sheer weight, boundless mass bearing down on me with the force of gravity. How big is he now? I wonder, as I listen to him moan and groan with pleasure. 325? 350? Could he really have gained over 200 pounds? How could he not realize what he’s doing to himself—what he’s doing to me?

He’s just so oblivious. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I’ve been starting to make noises about how uncomfortable I am, how much I’m struggling with his extra weight. But, as always, it falls on deaf ears. His tight little butt has become a pair of vast, ponderous globes, his abs and lats and obliques are encased in a spare tire that belongs on an 18-wheeler, his tits bulge out and dangle towards his armpits. And he just. Keeps. Going. 

Keeps eating. Keeps gaining. Keeps expanding.

Things reach a boiling point before dinner one night. I can see him piling up the table, unboxing some outrageous quantity of food for his secret nightly mukbang. Well, secret except for the consequences, which anyone with eyes could notice. “There’s a man who likes his food” would be such a trite, vapid observation that it doesn’t even need saying. He doesn’t just “like” his food, he lives for his food. Food is practically a part of Max’s identity at this point.

He’s starting to lower his colossal ass to sit, and I can tell this is it. Tonight’s the night. Fuck it, I’m done. He’s well past 350 pounds, and that’s too much weight for me to handle.

Maybe he’ll appreciate me more when I’m not around. Hejdå, Max, it was nice knowing you! At least, it used to be.

~

Max sat on the floor, rolls of fat still wobbling from the jarring motion of his fall. His chair had been complaining for a while now—squeaking and groaning every time he sat down—but he hadn’t expected it to actually break. What a load of bullshit! He wasn’t even that fat!

He looked around at the splintered wood, soreness radiating across his ass—and not in a fun, post-fucking kind of way. At least his buttocks were nicely-padded. When he was bony, a slip on the ice hurt like all hell.

He was glad he was alone, or this would have been super embarrassing. At least no one was around to see him smash that chair like a pro-wrestler in a grudge match. He knew he’d been overdoing it, but this wasn’t his fault. How could it be, surely he wasn’t that big? Just a little out of shape, in need of a few good workouts to shed some winter weight. It was just the cheap IKEA furniture he bought.

With a grunt, he started the process of heaving his monumental form to a stand. As he started to gather his momentum, he glanced at the ruined seat and frowned. He actually liked that chair. It was pretty comfortable.

At least, it used to be.

(Author’s Note: don’t forget to rotate your dining chairs!)

[we-stan-cale]

I want to hear about your favorite moments in TCF.

I have a long list, but I'll start with one that I don't hear people talk about much - Cale's conversation with Lock and Raon the night before the battle at the gorge.

First, I absolutely love how Cale handled Lock here. Lock is feeling like a failure, guilty, a coward - a whole bunch of negative things because he's no longer able to use his berserk transformation, and he thinks it's because he's afraid.

Cale - acts normal. It's hard to describe what that means, or why it matters. He just doesn't make a big deal out of it. Not like he's dismissing Lock's fears, but also not like he thinks Lock needs to be reassured.

This is right after Lock told Cale he couldn't go berserk. Rosalyn is also there, and the 'she' it starts with.

She heard a quiet voice at that moment. Pat. “Why is a young boy like you so skinny?” Rosalyn could see Cale pat Lock on the back before heading toward the tent entrance. Cale opened up the flap in order to exit as he looked toward Lock. “Let’s go.”

Cale just... Doesn't respond to the fear, but does show care and concern. And just treats Lock like normal (except in this case that's not really normal).

He then basically gets Lock to focus on the here and now, so Lock won't go into that headspace where he keeps feeling like he's a failure. He's preventing Lock from spiraling as he keeps thinking about what a failure he is.

Cale started to speak as soon as the young boy stopped right in front of him. “Focus on my back. Follow behind me and don’t think about anything else.”

And then he invites Lock to dinner. Just Lock, Raon, and Cale. Cale lets Lock talk, and then said something I absolutely love:

Lock’s mumblings stopped as soon as Cale asked a question. “Would you throw me away if I was weak?” “What-” Something like that was unbelievable. Lock throw Cale away? Lock’s eyes opened wide in shock as Cale smiled back at him. “Lock, you wouldn’t, right?” Cale picked his fork back up. “So, don’t ask something so obvious. Just eat.”

I love my progression fantasy, but the protagonists in those stories almost always have the same solution for every problem - get stronger.

To hear the protagonist say something like this is just so refreshing. Like - your worth is not tied up with being strong. You are a worthwhile person even if you can't destroy a wall with one punch. You wouldn't throw away someone else just because they were weak, so why are you being so hard on yourself?

And Raon hearing this leads into the final part, the conversation they have as they prepare for bed.

“By the way, human.” “What is it?” Cale made eye contact with the six-years-old Dragon who stopped connecting the device and looked toward him. Raon looked at Cale and asked. “I cannot go through my first growth phase. Is that okay?” ...

“Didn’t I answer that last time? Don’t ask me something so obvious.” “…Is it okay if I am weak?”

...

“Raon, although I am weaker than you, I’ve lived at least thirty, no, fifteen years more than you. But I am still weaker than you. I am not even as strong as you front paw. Is that a problem?” Cale realized his mistake and quickly changed the years before looking at Raon. “It is not a problem at all.”

There's more, but I've already copied enough so if you want to read the rest you should just go check that chapter out.

The thing here is that Raon, who was supposed to go through his first growth phase, couldn't. It now looks like he was afraid of how weak and vulnerable he would be during that.

And Cale, dense though he can be, perfectly reassures Raon.

Now if only that lovely, dense and yet wise man could treat himself with a fraction of the consideration he shows everyone else.