#hunter: [smug] yeah...

[carpisuns]

doodle dump for the huntlow fic ever by the illustrious @lollytea

[lollytea]

i bet hunter has blonde moments a lot. he is such a little ditz sometimes.

[stonerzelda]

considering how late i was to finding astarion and knowing hes hard to romance ive already given up on it and have just been enjoying his company. But i was laughing my ass off finding that one hunter and all the dialogue options i wanted to hit soooo badky oh my god

[babygorewhore]

Birthday Girl

Dad’s best friend Logan Howlett x Mutant! fem reader

Your long time crush on your dad’s best friend comes to a head the night of your 26th birthday. W.C a little over 2k.

Thank you so much to @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me!!!! I love you!!!

Warnings! Age gap! Male masturbation! Panty stealing! Drinking! Female receiving oral! Praise! Slight degrading! Unprotected sex! Stomach bulge!

It wasn’t like you were committing a crime or anything but it felt incredibly naughty as you stared through the crack of the spare bedroom door.

Logan Howlett, your dad’s best friend was fucking his fist on the mattress. The middle aged man, physically younger than your father but in actuality he was hundreds of years old.

You kept your breathing as shallow as possible, knowing any wrong move he would hear you or smell you but he was too distracted at the moment. Logan was staying a few days at your home while his apartment was being fixed.

Like any normal girl, you had a massive crush on him. Ever since you met him, a few years ago on your twenty first birthday when your father protected him from mutant hunter, you were head over heels.

His gruff, harsh demeanor and bad temper didn’t scare you. Oppositely, you enjoyed the way he dealt with people. He spoke everything you secretly thought. He just wasn’t afraid to say it. Your father was normal but your deceased mother passed on a mutation. One you kept hidden from other people, until yesterday when Logan finally saw you use it. You lit a fire outside, unaware he was outside smoking a cigar.

You grimaced when you heard him turn around with an unreadable expression and head back inside the house. Neither of you had spoken after that.

You were on a college break, visiting home for your birthday that was tomorrow. Your dad wasn’t going to attend the party at the local bar your best friend was throwing so you had a celebratory dinner earlier.

And now, you were still watching Logan roll his hips. Thrusting into his beefy hand that tugged himself as he panted and you had to bite your lip when you heard him moan.

Only he said your name as he pleasured himself.

Shock overcame you as he repeated it and then you caught a glimpse of a pair of black panties that were yours.

That son of a bitch.

A mixture of smugness and your hackles rising settled in your chest. He was always polite towards you, treated you as anyone would expect given his friendship with your dad. But he hadn’t hinted that he felt attracted to you. Let alone attracted enough to you to steal a pair of underwear from your room, wrap them around his dick and jerk off.

You just saw Logan’s dirty little secret and you smirked to yourself. A pulse in between your thighs throbbed as he came to his climax. Cum sprayed on his hand, his thick fingers shaking as it coated your panties. He sloppily wiped his hand on his exposed lower stomach. Hardened muscle twitching and you finally stepped away.

Your vibrator entertained the sensitive center of your pussy minutes later in your bedroom. The image of Logan touching himself seared in your mind as you toyed with your entrance at the same time. Wishing it was him instead with his much larger size.

The next morning, after you’d only gotten a few measly hours of sleep from fucking your toy, you’d jogged into the kitchen. You saw your father pouring himself and you a cup of coffee. But you didn’t see Logan.

“Ah, yeah, Logan had to head off early. The nice professor he’s friends with offered him speedier help with his apartment.” Your father explained, noticing the look of confusion on your face.

You tried to hide your disappointment but your dad must have caught on. “I know you’re sweet on him so I told him about the party tonight.”

You could have strangled him but you sat down and grumbled.

Your childhood home was a farm, hidden away from the main town. Easier to keep your mutation a secret and your mother before she died. Which was the reason you didn’t think twice about using your power.

“Logan gave me the blues for keeping the fact you were a pyro a secret,” Your dad chuckled and you winced. “But he came around. He always does.”

“Yeah, well he’s missing my birthday again. So, he must still be offended.” You indicated that you wanted a change of subject and it was dropped.

When you changed into your outfit later after a shower, applying a face full of makeup, you realized that Logan had taken another pair of underwear.

The bar was warm, not only from the lights but also from the shot pouring down your throat. Your best friend cheered as you slammed a hand on the counter playfully. Your black dress hugged you in all the right places, heels making your legs flex when you sauntered. You felt confident as you celebrated the number 26.

You both danced, drank and even sang a few karaoke songs. She had gifted you a silver crown when you came in and you pushed away thoughts of Logan for a while.

Until you saw him at the end of the bar, lazily sipping a beer wearing a deep red t-shirt. It accentuated his strong form and you ran your tongue along your lower lip. Tasting flavored lip gloss. Your friend turned and whipped back to you.

“Is that him?” She mouthed and you nodded. She giggled and gestured with her head for you to approach him.

You grasped your other alcohol drink, downing a large gulp and smoothed your hair. You walked towards him and plastered a charming smile.

“Logan? I didn’t expect to see you here!” He had the decency to lower his head, his way of greeting and he raised the bottle between his fingers.

“Stopped in for a few beers.” His short response made you bristle, especially knowing he did like you.

“Do you want to join us? It’s my birthday.” Your question hung in the air for a few seconds and Logan seemed to contemplate it.

“I’m gonna pass on that. But happy birthday. You’re a good girl. Your old man did a great job with you. Sure your mama would be proud of ya.” Logan’s refusal mixed in with a compliment made you unsure what to say.

Instinctively, you set a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He was so firm, radiating heat and he looked at your fingers.

“Logan, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what you saw,” you began but he cut you off with a shrug, making you drop your hand.

“Don’t worry about it. None of my business. But it wouldn’t have hurt to know that you would have needed protection during the attack.” He gripped the beer bottle harder and you clenched your jaw.

“And it wouldn’t have hurt to know you were stealing my panties but here we are.”

Logan dropped the bottle and you smiled wickedly until he stood up. He lightly wrapped his hand around your forearm and leaned down. He opened and closed his mouth but you only focused on the smell of alcohol. You leaned up, your lips finding his jaw and you kissed lightly. His facial hair tickled your skin and he jerked back.

“You-you-“

“Is this dude showing you a good time?” You looked and saw a man near your age standing close to you. He was cute but not on Logan’s level.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation.” Logan barked at him but the younger male wouldn’t be scared off right away.

“Looks like the lady is the one making all the moves and you’re just not paying attention. Come on, baby. Let me buy you a round.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” You answered and Logan growled.

“I’m not done talking to you-“ And you walked off.

Or you tried to but you felt steel arms loop underneath your legs and support your back. Your feet dangled above the ground, your heels clacking as Logan began marching towards the exit. You smacked him upside the head.

“Logan! My friend-“ you shrieked and you saw her shocked yet pleased expression.

“I’ll call an Uber!” She called out and waved.

Logan wasn’t fazed by your tipsy protests and another smack to his head. He carried you effortlessly to his truck that was parked in a dark corner.

But your pettiness caused you to scurry away when he set you down and climbed into the bed of the truck.

You clumsily landed in a heap on your ass, dress hitched up and Logan sighed in frustration. “Get in the passenger seat. I’m gonna take you home.”

“I’m not going home yet. I was having fun and you’re being a grumpy dickwad.” You narrowed your eyes and Logan held out his hands exasperated.

“Grumpy dickwad?”

“Yeah! And panty stealer!”

“Keep your voice down!” He hissed and you raised your eyebrows. Sensing a challenge.

Logan caught on to the idea in your head and swiftly hopped in the back of the truck. He cupped his palm over your mouth.

“Shhh, the hells the matter with you?” You nipped at him and he rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Biting? That’s childish.”

You flicked your fingers, a small flame appearing like you were about to light a candle and you waved it near his arm. Logan reached down and smacked the side of your ass. You gasped from behind his hand.

“Yeah. You want another one? Keep being a little stubborn mule and I’ll do it harder.” You thought about it but he slowly removed his palm.

Logan noticed your lipgloss smeared and he swiped his thumb across your lip. You sucked the digit into your mouth and he exhaled sharply. He pulled it out and leaned in closer.

“I know I shouldn’t have taken them. Made me feel like a dirty old man but-you’re so fuckin gorgeous I forgot myself.” His tone held lust and regret. Logan pressed his forehead to yours and you breathed in his scent.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, don’t make me beg. You’ve already taken two pairs…it’s the least you can do.” You gave him pouty lips.

Logan seized the opportunity and caught your mouth in a kiss. It was better than you could have ever imagined. His brutal force he always held was there. The way his hands moved and roamed your curves. He squeezed your hips and moved you on your back.

He pulled you closer as Logan’s weight hovered above your body. His hand moved to massage your tit as his jean clad thighs maneuvered between yours.

“Can’t say no to you, birthday girl. You gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?” He whispered and you whined with a nod. Logan kissed his way down, moving aside your panties and he groaned.

He buried his face in your cunt, his tongue lapping at your clit and took his time savoring your taste. You grind your pelvis against his face, Logan pulled back and spit on your pussy. He sucked and fucked your entrance with his mouth. Causing your nipples to harden as he squeezed your breast.

“That’s my girl, hump my face. Mhm, knew you were a slut but didn’t think you’d be a goddamn perv.” Logan sneered and took your clit between his lips.

You were gasping and arching your back as your orgasm was approaching. Your fingers were in his dark hair peppered with gray and pulling hard. It was probably suffocating him as your thighs pressed against his head but he didn’t care.

You were seconds from cumming when he ripped away but didn’t give you time to protest. Logan shoved his jeans down, halfway down his legs and he took his dick out. He ran the tip along your slit, smearing the precum.

You wrapped your thighs around him, ankles crossing as Logan thrusted into you. His size made you suck in a harsh breath but he aided you by circling your center with his thumb. Logan slammed into balls deep, making you moan.

His lips kissed your neck as he felt the bulge in your stomach.

“Fuckin you full. Knew you could take it. You’re such a good girl, feel so good. Shit, such a tight pussy.” He praised and your eyes rolled back.

“Going dumb on me already? My dick so good you’re panting like a puppy?” Logan ran his tongue along your throat and gave you a messy kiss.

The pleasure was overwhelming and he hauled your legs higher. Taking them from around his waist and gave you a deeper angle. Your underwear was still moved to the side, he liked feeling the material against his cock.

You drooled as you came on his dick, creaming on it and Logan moved harder. Deeper and your head lulled back as he fucked you through it.

“Uh huh, let me have it. Give me all that cum, doll. Such a good little whore,” he chuckled. “You gonna let me fill you up?”

“Please,” You managed and Logan gave you a couple more thrusts before his dick twitched.

Thick ropes of cum emptied into you and Logan huffed. Moaning and rolling his hips as he chased his high.

“You did such a good job,” He told you and slowed down. “You wanna head out somewhere? I wanna make sure to lick up my mess I made in you.”

Dividers by @anitalenia

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @usergeta @loserboysandlithium @oceanblvd111 @justafangirls-blog

[leonfucker3000]

Gotcha

Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird

Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.

oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.

tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱

The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.

Close. He’s so fucking close. 

You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned  bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.

His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.

You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.

“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”

You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together. 

After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake. 

“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture. 

“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.

“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger. 

“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”

“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”

“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.” 

The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .” 

You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”

Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ‘jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”

“Pretty?” You muse.

“Shut up.” He scoffs.

“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”

You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs down your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.” 

He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.” 

“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”

“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.

This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie. 

When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.

Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”

“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”

“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”

“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”

He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.” 

“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”

He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”

Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?” 

“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but— 

But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”

“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?” 

He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”

“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?” 

“If you tell me the truth I will.” 

“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”

A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.

“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open. 

He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”

“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”

His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”

You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”

You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time. 

“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.” 

You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.  

When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”

His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”

“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”

“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”

You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”

He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”

All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier. 

God is he an idiot.

Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here? 

“We shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.

After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants. 

Who he wants so, so badly. 

He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace. 

“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before. 

God, fuck it.

You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch. 

He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties. 

His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.” 

You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”

“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.” 

He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“

You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow. 

Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.

You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.

First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper. 

Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine

“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot. 

“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.

Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain. 

You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”

Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”

“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?” 

He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”

A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.

You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”

“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance. 

“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker . 

“ Leon.”  

“Atta girl.”

He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him. 

He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.” 

“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.

You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.

“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters. 

Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.

He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.

Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.

He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”

“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?” 

A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”

You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.

“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”

“Like I said, can’t promise anything.” 

You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.

“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.

You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.

You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?” 

“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.” 

Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”

“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.” 

Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”

He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.

Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.

You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.

[niilue]

For your 3k event can i request Feitan + bratty sub + feminization + male reader? I’m starved for sub/bottom Feitan content!

⎯ feitan portor • hunter x hunter

cw: dom reader, male reader, bratty feitan, feminization, rough sex, dirty talk. written in third person.. babe i know the lack of sub feitan its a sin :(

niilue’s 3k event

feitan groaned, his muscles tensing as he felt himself being fucked hard and fast. he cursed under his breath, the sensation of his lover's thick cock sliding in and out of him, hitting his prostate with each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. his dominant partner seemed to be enjoying it just as much, their hips meeting in a frenzy of lust as they fucked on the bed.

gespite his initial protests, feitan couldn't help but arch his back and moan as he felt himself getting closer to orgasm. the combination of his lover's rough treatment and the feminine lingerie, with its soft, delicate fabric and vibrant colors, was driving him wild. he knew he shouldn't be enjoying it this much, but there was something about giving in to his dominant partner's demands that made him feel incredibly turned on.

his lover reached down, roughly grabbing a fistful of feitan's hair and yanking his head back, exposing his throat. "you like this, don't you, brat?" he growled, spit landing on feitan's skin. "you like being my little slut, wearing my panties and getting fucked like the whore you are?" feitan whimpered, his eyes darting back and forth between his lover's face and the ceiling, trying to decide if he should lie or tell the truth. "yeah," he finally managed to choke out, "i like it."

feitan's lover chuckled darkly at his admission, a smug smile playing on his lips as he tightened his grip on the little man's hair. "that's what i thought," he murmured, leaning down to nip at feitan's earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. he pulled back to admire the way feitan's cheeks flushed pink, matching the delicate lace that adorned his body. "beg for it, then," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

feitan clenched his teeth, his pride warring with his desire. he hated admitting defeat, but the need for release was becoming unbearable. "p-please (name)," he stuttered, his voice shaking with need, "fuck me harder, i'm begging you."

(name) chuckled again, pleased with the response. he complied, his strokes becoming more powerful and relentless, pushing feitan closer and closer to the edge. "that's it," he encouraged, "ask for what you want, my pretty little thing."

feitan bit his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, "more, i need more!" his body was a writhing mess of pleasure and pain, the feminine lingerie feeling both humiliating and exhilarating against his sweat-slicked skin.

with a wicked grin, (name) reached around and pinched feitan's nipples, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. "you're going to cum for me, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "you're going to fill you're panties like a good little girl."

feitan's eyes snapped open, glaring up at his partner with a mix of anger and arousal. "fuck you," he spat, his voice filled with passion.

(name) simply smirked, leaning in to whisper, "that's the spirit," before pushing feitan over the edge, making him scream out his orgasm, his body shaking uncontrollably as he came in the pink and white lace.

feitan's body went limp as the last tremors of his orgasm faded away, leaving him panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. he felt the weight of his lover's body pressing down on him, but instead of relief, he was filled with a sudden burst of energy. his bratty side resurfaced, and he couldn't help but smirk up at (name). "is that all you've got?" he challenged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "i thought you'd make me scream louder than that."

(name) lift an eyebrow, his grip on feitan's hips tightening. "you want more?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

feitan nodded, a glint of mischief in his eye. "yeah," he said, his voice a breathy pant, "i want to feel like i'm really being fucked by a man, not just some wimpy excuse for one."

(name's) smile turned predatory, and he pulled out of feitan with a wet pop, leaving the bratty sub gasping. he grabbed a handful of the soft lingerie, wadding it up in his fist and using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. "you're really asking for it now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "but if you want more, you're going to have to beg for it properly."

feitan huffed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "fine," he snarled, "but you'd better make it worth it."

(name) chuckled, his eyes dark with desire. "oh, I will," he promised, leaning down to whisper in feitan's ear, "and you'll be the one begging for mercy by the end of it." he reached for the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube and a new toy, one that looked particularly intimidating.

feitan's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard. "what the fuck is that?" he demanded, his bravado slipping a little.

"this," (name) said, holding up the toy with a wicked smile, "is your next lesson in obedience." he lubed it up, the sound of the gel spreading over the smooth surface making feitan's heart race. "now, be a good girl and spread those legs for me."

feitan's cheeks burned with a mix of anger and excitement as he reluctantly did as he was told, bracing himself for whatever was to come. he knew that with each challenge he threw, (name) would only push him further, but the thrill of the game was what kept him coming back for more. he was going to make him work for it, though. he was going to push back and make him earn every single moan and scream. the air was thick with tension as the toy was positioned at his entrance, and with a quick thrust, it was inside him, stretching him wider than he'd ever been before.

the pain was intense, but it only served to fuel feitan's brattiness. "is that all you've got?" he goaded, his voice strained but determined. "i can take more than that!"

(name's) smile grew, and he began to move the toy in and out, twisting it as he went, making feitan's eyes roll back in his head. "oh, i know you can," he said, "but the question is, will you beg for it?"

and with that, he began to pick up the pace, driving the toy deeper and deeper into feitan's ass, the black-haired man's moans and curses filling the room as he struggled to keep his pride intact.

feitan's breath came in ragged gasps as the toy stretched him, filling him to the brim. his body was on fire, his muscles straining against the sensation of being so thoroughly used. but he wouldn't give in. he wouldn't beg. not yet.

(name's) eyes glinted with determination, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "come on, feitan," he growled, "give in to the pleasure. beg for more."

but feitan only gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the sheets, refusing to break. the pleasure-pain bordering on agony was almost too much to bear, but he knew that if he gave in now, he'd never hear the end of it. his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the toy brush against something deep inside him, triggering a shockwave of pleasure through his entire body.

"that's it", (name) whispered, his voice laced with lust. "you like that, don't you? you want more." his hips began to move faster, his thrusts more powerful. "say it," he demanded. "tell me you want more."

feitan's chest heaved as he struggled to keep his composure, but his voice, when it came out, was a hoarse whisper. "more," he managed to choke out. "please."

word count: 1,272

[egoistivc]

discipline.

as apart of the stellaron hunters it's normal or common for you to interact with such, after all members are bound to be destined. but, to Kafka's eyes, it seemed more than just a common interaction. you we're constantly flirting with bladie touching him else where and he only lets out a groan of clear dissatisfaction with your jokingly teases… you'd smile and you never notice kafka's expression cold and stern as she watched over that certain moment. warning. MINORS DNI PLS.. transfem!kafka afab!reader (obv) and etc,, NSFW -ACKK SORRY WAS THE STARTER TOO LONG??!!!... Kafka had your cunt full of her seed, mixed cum leaking out of your sore cunt and you hastily groaned and breathed,, exhausted upon hours of domination Kafka did to you. kafka's smug grin painted her pretty face as she kept thrusting at your abused cunt,, you shrieked upon the sensations as your nails dig onto her back, she pushed your knees bending you like a pretzel. ( mating position ) and you moaned sharply as her cock hits deeper. She kept thrusting biting at your thigh softly whilst your body was all limp. Kafka had so much stamina while you had nothing.. she softly says through rough groans. ''don't worry lovely.. let me cum inside you again… cmon get pregnant.. your womb is mine, yeah?'' she kept thrusting in a lazy yet fast motion ring of cum surrounding her veiny cock as the room was filled with none but moans and skin slapping in a wet manner. you felt her cock twitch inside you, ''almost there K-kaf..?'' you moaned as she nodded, sweat dripping to her forehead,, you'd slowly feel your climax building up too. ''Kaf… m-mhm cummin'…'' Kafka releases inside of you (after you came) painting your walls white and making you see stars. she'd press a kiss on your forehead softly. ''you're mine, kay' lovely? '' you'd smile, you knew enough that it was a warning.

[rnakamura22]

When they heard that you found your way home

Random　Characters

Prefect is female! Yandere vibes! Her name is Yu!

Malleus　Dragonia

Oh, Don't mind the sky getting pitch-black and thunder striking down rapidly! What? Flying classes got canceled? You saw Jack and Epel were totally soaked? Where are you even looking? Another man? That’s unacceptable!

You’re his first friend and crush! To him, you are like the first sunshine of spring! A beautiful blue butterfly in the meadow flying above the flowers! A gem more precious than any treasure he has! And now you’re just dumping him? Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen! He’s one of the most powerful magicians in the world, so it takes no more than a flip of his hand to crush any form of way back home. He could lock you up in his room, mess with your body, destroy any form of mirror, etc. Hey, this was gonna happen one way or another since he already decided for the future Queen of the valley long ago(AKA when he met you).While he locks you up in his Diasomnia room, he could happily come and discuss the wedding plans. He already decided on the crown by the way, but he made a promise to discuss the dress colors with you since taking your opinion into account is necessary. Lila would be teary eyed of Malleus’s growth. You have no choice to accept your fate since even if you escape, he will come searching for you. After all, can a mere human win against a loving dragon?

Lilia Vanrouge

This 700 year old vampire fairy has more knowledge and experience than any of the villains. He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom. But then, you came along. A cute little innocent human who only lived about a little percentage of his life! You are like a baby! You’re too young to survive out there! What if your way back home never worked! What if some thing got messed up? No, you need to be in the world safe and sound! He will protect you! He still has feelings about the age gap though. I mean, what happens in family day at school with your future children? Well, not to worry! As for making you stay, just break a few mirrors or take out any bad memories! He needs to look out for his juniors after all! He won’t break you, but he will punish you if you disobey. Fairies are possessive. Blame your own luck for shooting the heart of the vampire fairy.

Rook Hunt

At first, he seems happy for you! A lost deer should run back to her herd as quick as possible. But you forgot he’s a hunter. And a skilled hunter like him NEVER fails.

He casts his unique magic on you as you are about to leave. A part of him wishes for your happiness, but he couldn’t help it. A large part of him couldn’t forgive you. The most valuable prey were about to outrun him. He could never accept that. His magic will find you. Wherever you go, however you try to escape, the chase continues. Until you give up your world and return with him, they would be absolutely no peace.

Epel Felmier

(Anyone else love peel’s smug VILLAN faces from the ghost bride?)

Epel acts happy but inside, he’s devastated. He wanted to visit his home village again just the two of you. He knows he’s got competition when it came to you, and it was all for nothing. Well, he ain’t admitting that, that’s for sure.

From that day on, with the help of Vill and Rook, he creates a special gift for you. An apple red as the roses. A glittering poison apple just like the Beautiful Queen of his dorm created. To trap you, his one and only Snow White. He still wants to have fun with you and the first years. He wants to graduate with you. You gave him courage, and made him happy. He wants to return you with his own thankful emotions. #Yeah, Right.

On the day you were going to leave, he comes up to you and thanks you, than he says the magic words.

“Prefect…I want to give you something. Please have a bite. It’s a special apple I picked. It’s the most delicious apple I harvested and the most beautiful one! I cared for it so much!”

Epel now understands what Vil said for so long. His cuteness can become a weapon. Look at your eyes! You melt for his cuteness, and bites the apple without thinking twice, I mean, who can resist his cuteness. Instantly, you fall unconscious.

“Whoah!? That was close… but now you can be with us forever Yu! Snow White won’t hold a candle to you…. Let’s graduate together Ok? And we can be together forever…”

He’s a poisoned apple, what would you except? As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ah, he says like 90% of the time about how fairies are better than humans, but for you, it’s an exception. He might not show it, but he cares a lot about you. He’s a tsundere after all.(No, you cannnot tell me otherwise) But he blames you for dumping him and making him feel bad.(AKA you two are not dating)

“This is your own fault human, you made me fall to your schemes and now you’re throwing it all away? Unacceptable!”

He may not show it, but he enjoyed school life with you and the other humans of his grade. He wants to live with you at the valley of Thorns. But your comment of going back to your world snaps something.

Better run away because lightning bolts are coming down in 10 seconds to smash that mirror. He will not let you go. And is you disobey…say goodbye to your eardrums and your freedom.

Silver

(Anyone else love this Silver’s face? I believe Silver can be a villain too, you won’t change my mind)

He is SHOCKED with a capital S. He’s a human, but raised by Lilia and fairies so he has fairy values and they may be SLIGHTLY different from humans especially about love.

He wants to be with you after graduation. He already planned a few preparations so you won’t be getting away.

Before you go, he casts his unique magic on you to appear in your dreams as a dashing prince. Saving you, chasing you, maybe choking you a little bit. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Convincing that your world is horrible and terrible, and you should come back to Twisted Wonderland and live with him. Silver is a prince, and you are his princess. To him, the bad witch is your world. After all, he needs to defeat the bad witch to save his one and only princess. Than he can live happily ever after.

[kalixora]

Bounty

Optimus x Cybertronian reader

Reader is cybertronian bounty hunter

Team Prime was currently down in an deep energon cave that Wheeljack had found while coming back to Jasper. It was enough energon to last a whole year the best part was there as no cons. None at all.

"Gotta hand it to you Jacky! This cave is awesome!" Bulkhead exclaimed as he punched Wheeljack on the arm.

"I'm gonna actually agree with Bulk on this one," Arcee commented. “It’s a nice find, how many cons did you have to take out when you found it?”

“None at all, to bad though, I was looking forward to kicking a bunch of scarps today too, but this place was a score for real.”

“This could last us like a whole year! Right?” Smokescreen says while tapping the walls of the cave. In which Bumblebee chirped excitedly while nodding his helm.

Optimus stood next to Ultra Magus still scanning the cave some more. He was proud of Wheeljack about finding the cave, but given everything that they’ve all been through lately in past missions, he was slightly hesitant. Ultra Magus raised his optics looking at the Prime.

“Is something troubling you sir?”

Optimus hummed, “No, but you can never be to careful.” Optimus raised his voice so everyone could hear him, “Let’s quickly grab as much energon as we can and head back to base, Wheeljack excellent work, I gave you my thanks.”

Wheeljack nods, giving Bulkhead a smug look. “No problem boss, just doing my job.”

With that everyone spilt into two or three groups grabbing energon and filling up carts and putting it on Wheeljack’s ship.

Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Arcee walked further into the cave finding the mother load of energon.

“Come on Smokescreen, we have way more than enough,” Arcee says signaling them that it’s time to go back.

“Aw come on, we gotta get a little bit more! You never know maybe the cons might find this place and we’ll never get it back again,” Smokescreen replied back still grabbing more energon.

Arcee sighed, “I understand your concerns, I do, but we've gone far enough into this cave, and I don't like staying in caves for any longer than necessary.”

“But, the more the merrier." Smokescreen objected.

"We have enough," Arcee responded.

Bumblebee attempted to intervene, but the two-wheeler refused. Acree rolled her optics turning around, "Do what you want then."

Smokescreen chuckled and huffed, "Fine by me-“

Bumblebee beeped questioning Smokescreen sudden demeanor change, Smokescreen switched his servo’s into guns pointing in the direction of the energon. Arcee did the same unsure of what was going on.

“I heard something….” Smokescreen finally said after a few seconds of unmoving. Stepping closer Smokescreen became to see a metallic chest plate, he then stepped a bit closer and was lunged at. Stumbling back Smokescreen fired a shot missing his attacker who managed to get on top of him.

“What the-“ Arcee and Bumblebee pointed their guns at the thing. It was a cybertronion animal. But it was a predacon, since a predacon wouldn’t have given Smokescreen the chance to get that close since they’re territorial when it came to energon.

Arcee fired a shot at it and hit it on its sides. It whimpered and shook its helm trying to get up but struggled, letting out a sharp yelp in doing so. Acree stared at it feeling a bit uneasy for having to shoot it. But it was either them or it.

“What the heck is that thing?!” Smokescreen stammered while trying to get back in his feet. His spark pounded against his chest plate looking to see what almost un-alived him.

“Looks like it’s from our planet…” Arcee said hesitantly still trying to examine it.

“Should we call Optimus?” Smokescreen asked.

“Yeah…” Arcee nods while looking at Bumblebee.

After ending the com link Smokescreen huffed, “Maybe shooting it wasn’t the idea…”

“It was you or them,” Arcee huffs as well.

“Arcee?”

Optimus voice echoed through the cave as he came closer to the three, Bumblebee waved him over and pointed at the creature that attacked Smokescreen.

Optimus and Ultra Magnus came closer, inspecting the creature as it whines losing its own energon, Optimus leaned down examining it some more. His optics went wide seeing the creature up closer.

Bumblebee chirped and beeped in confusion while Smokescreen began to start asking questions.

“Do you recognize that thing Optimus?”

“This is a cybertronion hound, only used by Cybertions bounty hunters.”

“Bounty hunters?!” Smokescreen and Bumblebee said beeped at the same time then both looked at Arcee. Arcee’s optics went wide, “Your telling me that belongs to a bounty hunter….”

Optimus turned to look back at the three younger bots with concerns, before noticing a reflection within the energon that captured his attention. He stood up and turned switching his servo to a gun, “Show yourself.”

Optimus narrowed his optics seeing a figure step into his view, his spark rate began to rise at the sight of… you.

You stood there narrowing your own optics at the Prime in front of you, you scoffed in realization.

It was the autobots. And their leader Optimus Prime.

You took aim at his head, glaring at the bot with anger as you fired. Your shot missed as Optimus dodged with precision, his optics meeting yours with a mix of no fear and hesitation.

“Waste of scrap and metal,” you grumbled.

“We mean you no harm,” Optimus says. “My apologies for your friend.”

"My apologies for your friend," he added, acknowledging the unintended consequence of the battle.

The others raised their weapons, with Arcee aiming hers at your hound. Optimus held his servos up, signaling the others to stand down, they all lowered the guns hesitantly with Ultra Magus speaking up. “Is this wise Optimus?”

“I agree with him with on this one sir,” Arcee says. “Bounty hunters hunt. She coukd be working for the cons.”

You rolled your optics, “Autobots, Decepticons, is that all you talk about? I should rip your sparks out and feed it to my hounds.”

“Hounds?” Smokescreen’s optics widened. Hearing growls coming from around them, four more hounds larger the injured one stepped around the rocks of the caves.

“Scrap…” he muttered softly, sensing the tension escalating around them.

“Forgive them, I shall take the blame for their consequence,” Optimus began to kneel down. “Whatever you must do, let me receive it.”

Your largest hound, bristling with protectiveness, snarled as it positioned itself between you and Optimus, a silent but clear warning. The air crackled with tension your other hound gently lifted your injured companion onto its back, carrying it towards you.

You optics shifted towards your smaller hound, scanning over their injures, your spark could rest easy, the femme bot was a crappy shot, missed your hounds vital areas completely.

Steeling yourself, you closed the distance to Optimus, your optics locked onto his with a mix of defiance, grief, and determination. Switching your servo back to your gun, you aimed it squarely at Optimus’s head, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. Arcee’s optics narrowed, sensing the gravity of your demand, while the other Autobots stood tense and watchful.

“Fix him,” you demanded with a low tone, switching your gun back to your servo.

Optimus lifted his helm, meeting your gaze with a steady resolve in his own optics. As you took a step back, allowing him to rise to his full height.

“Very well,” Optimus said with a nod. He placed his digits to his com link, calling base.

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: The pie thief has struck again. You know who it is but how to prove it? The answer is on the tip of his tongue.

Words: ~900

A/N: So this is SPN fic number two. The idea of Dean being such a pie fiend that he would steal someone else's pie from the fridge and deny it afterwards, really amused me. I obviously didn't get the desire to kiss him out of my system after the first SPN fic I wrote so here's another one 😂 It's not smut but there is mild adult themes which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is as generic as I can make but I have referenced as female. I hope you enjoy, and as always, I value your feedback and comments 💖

Warnings: kissing, mild violence, bad language as standard. Dean is an asshole. Reader is a bit of an asshole too. They're probably made for each other.

*** Minors do not read or interact ***

Dean Winchester.  You hate him.  His arrogance, his smug superiority, the way he always acts like he’s untouchable… his goddamn pretty mouth.  Ugh!  Asshole!

You didn’t always hate him – you had known him for years, one hunter to another – but, since you had been forced to stay with both he and Sam in the bunker these last couple of months, he had really grated on your nerves. 

After your hunt of a large nest of vampires had gone wrong, you had become the hunted.  Your home decimated, your family too precious to put at risk by you staying with them; you had needed help.

Sam had insisted, so you agreed to stay with them until your vamp problem could be solved.  Only the nest turned out to be much bigger and far wider spread than you had first thought, and it was taking time for even the infamous Winchester brothers to put an end to.

The light in the refrigerator is stark as you stare inside.  It’s gone.  You slam the door, raging internally.  Why can you not have anything to yourself in this goddamn place?

“DEAN!”  You shout angrily at the top of your lungs, knowing he can hear you from his room down the hall, even with his music playing.

He won’t respond to you.  He never does.  Why should he?  You’re just some girl he’s got to put up with for a while.  Some girl he made a pass at that first week you were here, but you shut him down and he’s been an asshole to you ever since.

You storm up to his door and bray your fist against the wood as hard as you can.  “I know you’re in there!  Get your ass out here now!”  You shout and hammer your fist against the door until you hear him moving inside.

The door clunks as he unlocks it, and it swings open to reveal him stood in the doorway in a navy blue robe and slippers.  The light from his lamp is dim but warm, his music a moderate volume for the late hour.  He looks irritated that you’ve disturbed him, that quizzical frown and pout are a dead giveaway.  Good.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”  He smirks at you.

“You!”  You push past him, and he doesn’t try to block you.

“What now?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this argument and it probably won’t be the last.  Whenever Sam isn’t around, Dean always does something to piss you off, like he’s trying to bait you.

“You ate my pie!  AGAIN!”

His expression is schooled into that self-righteous assuredness it always is when you confront him.  His hands go to his hips – which looks ridiculous because of the robe – and he shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”  He says with a frown, and it’s entirely plausible that you’ve made a mistake, except it’s just the two of you here and you didn’t eat the damn pie.  “I haven’t seen any damn pie.”

“Oh yeah?!”  You square up to him, looking up into his eyes, unblinking, unphased.

“Yeah!”  He doubles down, firmly meeting your stare, leaning closer as if you would be intimidated by that.

It’s a short distance you need to cover and he is unprepared.  You expect him to push you away but he flounders, arms flailing and uncoordinated when you grip the lapels of his robe and pull him towards you.

When your lips meet he puckers up and blinks in shock, but you don’t give him time to realise what’s happening.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him tight as you slip your tongue between his lips, plundering his mouth.

It takes a beat, but he responds by gripping your hips and holding you against him, moaning into your mouth as he opens up to you.  The heat of his response takes you by surprise, but it shouldn’t have, really.  He’d wanted this since the first few days you were here.  Wanted you.

You ravage his mouth, your hands in his hair, making it messy as you practically melt into his arms.  His tongue plays perfectly with yours, his lips soft and yielding.  Dean Winchester is an exceptional kisser.  This fact makes you hate him even more.

As you pull back, breathless, Dean grins at you.  He looks happy and care-free, like the cat that got the cream.  Your face, however, holds a scowl.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”  His expression changes to concern.

You lick your lips and it’s just as you thought, the sweet buttery goodness of pie crust and the pleasant tartness of sour cherry.  You slap him across the face – not hard but just enough to get his attention – and stride to the door leaving him confused.

“What the hell?!”  He rounds on you, his arousal tenting his robe.

“Don’t you dare eat my pie again.”

You leave your warning hanging in the air along with his frustration.  A smirk playing on your lips at the sight you had just left behind you; Dean Winchester with kiss-swollen lips and a hard-on for you.  It isn’t the worst thing you’ve seen but you still hate him, even if there’s now something else there along side it. 

[snyderside]

I am not exactly sure if this classifies as an Au or headcanons since Trolls Band Together was kinda short and for the life of me I kinda hate when movies are rushed and we get the cut scenes afterward only as a storyboard(I also tend to like the concept art more than the official art)

But enough of me ranting and more into me getting into what I think/want to happen to Brozone when the band split up

(I choose to call it their solo career)

John Dory(19):

Seeing John Dory's entrance attitude and smugness truly made me think yeah this guy is definitely full of himself and in major denial about some things and what really confirmed my suspicion was when he said "I was the oldest I had no choice but to lead!"

So for his solo career, I thought maybe he did some odd job like bounty hunting, or perhaps he played hero with a small town with a small population of trolls or some other anthropomorphic species. Of course, anyone he would save or any group of bounty hunters he'd join didn't like him because he enjoyed taking control of the situation so much or bossing everyone around. He never liked being alone but he kept driving people away, so eventually he knew solitude was his best option, therefore living in Ronda alone in a forest. He did feel regret for driving his brothers away but only because he knew he was more familiar with bossing them around than some random strangers he'd just met. He kept the mindset of "Why should I feel bad when they're the ungrateful ones!" and "All I've ever done was look out for them, and I stepped up when Mom and Dad died!" after those thoughts he couldn't help but think "What are you doing John Dory?"

Spruce/Bruce(17):

I thought it would be funny if almost everyone at his little restaurant on Vacay Island or should I say Brandy's restaurant...well her dads knew who "Bruce' really was except Brandy. I like to think Bruce went to vacay island because either his therapist or himself thought he should relax more so he went on a "vacation". He chilled out, gained a little bit of weight making him lose his six-pack, and most importantly tried to win the heart of Brandy because she seemed to be the only one not falling for his charm. Brandy played a tsundere type of approach when it came to all his advances on her, but then it all came to a game of volleyball as Bruce's way of showing his dedication to her, of course some of the other players used his small stature against him and he was getting his butt handed to him. He was only able to score a single point (IDEK how volleyball works) and the way he leapt into the air had Brandy star struck, the that that was holding his hair back snapped and he used nothing but shear will power to spike the ball. I mean sure Bruce lost but did he really? He got the girl in the end so it's all that counts right?

Clay(16):

(So I don't really have much for clay because I used most of my ADHD superpowers on the other guys and there's not too much I can go on from the movie)

Now Clay just looked around for jobs, it was retail, then tried working at some corporate building but it all didn't exactly work out because none of his co-workers took him seriously. Feeling out of options Clay walked aimlessly eventually finding Viva and the Putt-putt trolls, at the time imagined them looking more post-apocalyptic and slightly barbaric and frankly chaotic, Viva needed drastic help because she was just a little kid like Clay. Clay offered to help her mainly because he has a tiny bit of OCD (Saying this because of how grumpy he looked when John Dory went off and did his own thing and him practicing and worrying before Brozone performance.) and Viva thought/thinks so highly of him and thought of him as serious which is all Clay ever wanted so he just felt at home...and may or may not have developed feelings for her in the long run. Still, hey I've already got into a Romance segment.

I'm going to leave this here and not do Floyd because I'll talk about his little solo career journey in an OC ramble. (I have no shame.)

Thanks for reading have a lovely day!

[sp00kygoddessxx]

⌛Jealousy⌛

The Impala roared down the desolate highway, the rhythmic hum of the engine a familiar lullaby for Dean Winchester. He gripped the steering wheel with a sense of purpose, the road stretching endlessly ahead. Sam, his brother, sat in the passenger seat, engrossed in a lore book.

In the backseat, you sat quietly, staring out into the night. The soft glow of the dashboard cast fleeting shadows across your face, adding an air of mystery to your contemplative expression. Dean couldn't help but steal glances at you in the rearview mirror, a warmth settling in his chest at the sight of you.

You and Dean had been dancing around each other for months, the unspoken tension growing thicker with every shared hunt and quiet moment in the Impala. Tonight, however, something was different. A new dynamic hung in the air, and Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The trio was on the trail of a particularly nasty creature—a shape-shifter that had been wreaking havoc in a small town. The research had led them to a rundown motel on the outskirts of nowhere, and now, with the night unfurling around them, the tension between you and Dean was palpable.

As Dean pulled the Impala into the motel's parking lot, he noticed a group of hunters gathered by a flickering neon sign. They were strangers—faces Dean didn't recognize. The unease settled in his stomach as he realized they were fellow hunters, drawn to the same case.

"Great, more hunters," Dean grumbled, a scowl creasing his forehead.

Sam sighed, closing the lore book. "Looks like we've got company."

You shifted in the backseat, your eyes meeting Dean's in the rearview mirror. There was a flicker of something—perhaps concern or curiosity—that passed between you.

The motel room was cramped, with a single bed and worn-out furniture that screamed of countless transient occupants. Sam occupied himself with unpacking their meager supplies, leaving Dean and you in a charged silence.

Dean ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw tense. "I don't like the looks of those hunters out there. We can't trust anyone we don't know."

You nodded, a frown etching your features. "Agreed. We need to be cautious."

The conversation hung in the air, unresolved tension lingering like a storm waiting to break. Dean couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was different—that the shadows cast by the neon lights were more than just play of light.

As the night unfolded, the hunters convened in the parking lot, sharing information and strategies. Dean found himself increasingly agitated, his eyes darting between you and the group. The laughter and camaraderie of the other hunters grated on him, the unease growing into a simmering jealousy that he couldn't quite quell.

You, on the other hand, navigated the situation with grace, your eyes always returning to Dean as if seeking reassurance. The glances exchanged between you and the other hunters—a shared nod, a brief smile—didn't go unnoticed by Dean, and each one fueled the growing fire of jealousy within him.

When one particularly cocky hunter, Jake, approached you with a smug grin, Dean's jaw clenched. He couldn't hear the words exchanged, but the playful banter and easy laughter grated on him like sandpaper against his nerves.

Sam, sensing the tension, shot Dean a concerned glance. "You okay, man?"

Dean grunted, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, just peachy."

The night wore on, and as the group of hunters dispersed to their rooms, leaving you and Dean alone in the cramped motel room, the atmosphere grew more charged. Dean paced, his frustration palpable, while you watched him with a mix of confusion and concern.

"Dean, what's going on?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

He stopped his pacing, his gaze locking onto yours. "Nothing. Just... I don't like the way that Jake guy was eyeing you. It's not safe, and I don't trust him."

A flicker of realization crossed your face, and you took a step closer to Dean. "Dean, you know you're the only one I—"

He cut you off with a shake of his head. "It's not about that. It's about keeping you safe. I don't want anyone else getting in the way of that."

You sighed, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. "Dean, I can take care of myself. And I choose you, every time."

His gaze softened, the intensity giving way to a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you. Not to some reckless hunter or anything else."

You cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. "You won't lose me, Dean. I'm here because I want to be, because I choose to be."

The tension melted away as Dean leaned into your touch, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes—a kiss fueled by the shadows of jealousy but ignited by the undeniable connection that bound you together.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Hunter

Chapter Summary: The bottle lands on Hunter, and you get a classic monsterfuck.

Chapter Warnings: minors be gone; werewolf!Hunter x f!reader, kinks: predator/prey + knotting; desired fear, discussion of consent and rules, thrill of the chase, hiding, oral (f receiving), slightly graphic description of werewolf transformation, pain, unprotected PiV sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of cum, breeding kink if you squint and hold it sideways, mentions of blood, one instance of near dub-con (reader says “i can’t” and Hunter says otherwise), some aftercare

Word Count: 4.0k (i'm not even ashamed of this one)

A/N: please please heed the warnings on this one. while there is a discussion of consent at the beginning, once the werewolf appears, there is no more discussion. I will say right now: reader wants everything that happens. the fear reader experiences is akin to the desired fear one gets from going through haunted houses or watching scary movies. it costs nothing to keep on scrolling if you don't think you're the intended audience for this fic.

also yes i'm posting this on the full moon. and yes it's the Hunter's Moon. i planned this >:)

...Hunter. 

As the bottle rocks to a halt, you glance up to meet Hunter’s piercing gaze. He’s always been extra perceptive, always had the ability to make you feel like he’s seeing through you, but tonight, with magic coursing through him, his eyes pin you in place. A smirk tilts the corners of his mouth up. 

Your breath shudders out of your chest in anticipation as you let your eyes wander over his costume-turned-reality. Ragged lumberjack plaid stretches over his broad shoulders, torn in places to reveal the continuation of his skeleton tattoo. His teeth have sharpened into points, bared in a grin as the smirk on his face widens. Even his hair, usually so neatly held back by his bandana, is fluffier, longer, wilder.

The strobing, dancing lights reflect yellow eyeshine in his gaze, and you shiver. Arousal already begins to pool in your lower belly, molten heat stirring faintly. Hunter’s nostrils flare as he breathes in. The way his eyes flutter lets you know that he can smell you even amidst the press of sweaty bodies, spilled alcohol, and sickly sweet fog. A whimper falls from you, unheard by anyone except him. 

Hunter twirls a fresh shot of clear alcohol between his fingers. “Well, mesh’la?” 

“U-Um,” you say. The rest of the troopers at the table don’t even bother to hide their smug smirks. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” 

Downing the shot, Hunter slams the glass on the table, shaking his unruly curls out of his face. Then he stands, his broad shoulders and narrow waist drawing your gaze down. Already you catch the hint of a bulge outlined at the apex of his thighs. Your mouth waters, body coming alive with electric desire, and you resist the impulse to squeeze your legs together.

Following his lead, you stand as well. He tucks you against his side and leads you through the crowd. Pressed against him, your senses are flooded with the furnace-like heat he radiates, the unique scent of spice and dirt that fills your nose, the tingling sense of controlled danger where his claw-tipped fingers scratch ever so lightly against your waist. You swallow heavily. Kriff, this is going to be a fun night, and you’re grateful once again to whoever sent you the invite to this party. 

To your surprise, Hunter steers you towards the bar. With gentle pressure on your lower back, he guides you to one of the leather stools, but remains standing himself. He leans his forearm on the sticky bartop next to you, his other hand resting on the swell of your thigh. 

“Need some more liquid courage, Sarge?” you say with a teasing smile, your words sounding much more cool and collected than you actually feel. 

He barks a short laugh. “Hardly. No, I would rather keep this experience between us from start to finish. I...” He trails off, eyes studying your face before drifting down to your body, sitting stiff and wound up before him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “...want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“And what is it that I’m getting into?” you ask. You lean closer to him, so close you can feel his warm breath puffing over your face.

“An experience that requires a few ground rules.” 

You nod for him to continue.

“One: when I catch you, don’t run,” he says. 

The bottom of your stomach drops out with excitement. “‘When’?” 

The grin he gives you is wolfish—there’s no other word for it. His teeth bare in a smile masquerading as a snarl, eyeshine glinting once again. “That’s right.” 

“W-What’s rule two?” 

“If you change your mind, you fight as hard as you can. And hit the panic button on this comlink.” He slips the small metal device from his jeans pocket and holds it between clawed fingers. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to stay in control if I transform.” 

Gripping the comlink with shaking fingers, you locate the panic button and, with a nod, tuck the device into your pocket. “Rule three?” 

Hunter tilts his head, seeming to look through you again. You fidget in your seat until you realize he must be listening to your body—you become intensely aware of the way that your heart hammers against your ribcage, pulse racing, and of the heat scorching through your veins only to pool deep in your core. When he refocuses on your face again, your cunt clenches around nothing at the hungry look in his eyes.

“Rule three,” he echoes, “don’t hold back.” 

He tilts your head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan in surprise, body melting with little resistance into his touch. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough that the quick sting sends a jolt of pleasure through you. Resting your palms on his chest, you delight in the way his muscles flex and how he seems to quiver. Like he’s holding himself back, despite his order for you to do the opposite.

You break away with a gasp. Hunter nudges your face to the side and, growling, presses his nose to the pulse point below your jaw. You gasp as he inhales your scent.

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he rasps, his words only meant for you, “you smell good enough to eat.” 

You bite your lip to keep your moan contained, still aware of the bartender shooting you a mildly amused look and of the dozens of people around you right now. As if he can sense you holding back—because he probably can—Hunter bites your neck. 

“Rule three,” he husks. 

“I’ll follow your rules if you follow them, too,” you gasp out. “Don’t you dare hold back, either.” 

He pulls back from you, hooded eyes meeting yours. Whatever he searches for in your gaze, he must find, because a slow, predatory grin spreads over his face. 

“Deal,” he says. “I’ll give you a head start. And then I’m going to fuck you, wherever I find you. Understood?” 

You can’t stop the whine that slips from your throat. “Y-Yes. Understood.” 

“Good.” He steadies you as you slide off the stool onto shaky legs. “Now run.” 

Your brain is several seconds behind, still stuck on the barely-contained growl in his voice and the way your skin shivers with goosebumps, but your body reacts immediately. Legs pumping, you take off through the crowd. Half-assed apologies tumble from you as you knock into people. You have no idea where you’re running to—you don’t even know how much of a head start he’s giving you. You just know you have to hide. Every instinct in you screams to run, to get to safety, to evade the burning gaze you can feel on your back even as you duck and weave between troopers.

You dash through an open doorway and skid to a halt, chest heaving with adrenaline. Before you lie several choices: a branching hallway filled with doors, an exit dead ahead, or a stairwell climbing up to a second-story exit. Glancing over your shoulder, you don’t see Hunter following yet. Part of you, a depraved, wholly needy part of you, wonders how much you should even try to hide—but an even more depraved part of you urges you to make it a challenge. How long will it take for him to find you if you try? 

Mind made up, you take the stairs two at a time and shove against the push-bar so the door swings open. But you don’t step through it. Instead, you let it shut on its own, then you turn and, emboldened by equal parts thrill and desire, you brace your hands on the metal bannister. Heaving yourself up over it, you try to keep as little contact with the railing as possible. 

Your stomach lurches as you drop the ten feet to the permacrete flooring. Thankfully, no joints sprain, and you don’t feel any pain in your shins from the impact. 

Unharmed and feeling pleased with yourself, you bolt through the ground-floor exit. 

Outside, the cool night air kisses your skin and wicks away the sweat that’s already gathered along your forehead. Head turning in either direction, you frantically search for someplace to hide. There’s the crystal forest, sure—but you don’t fancy getting poked with a thousand tiny shards like the ones you walked across when you arrived. You could sneak around the building and run back to the tiny spaceport. But that feels too...predictable. Why run when you can try to hide in plain sight?

To your right, a ladder leads up to the second-floor rooftop. Grabbing onto the cold rungs, you pull yourself up, hands and feet flying. You reach the top and, panting, survey your options. 

This rooftop is barren, save for the doorway you assume leads to the stairs you leapt off. But the next building over has several clusters of chairs and tables, tucked into the shadows of a decorative art piece that twists with elegant curves towards the cloud-studded sky. 

You go to take a step when an idea strikes you. You rip off your jacket, baring your arms to the chilled air, and drape it over the edge of the rooftop next to the ladder. Maybe the extra body heat, sweat, and scent clinging to the fabric will draw his attention and throw him off?

You slink to the closed doorway, then leap past it. You really have no idea how much of your scent you’re leaving behind, or what clues he’ll use to find you, but leaving as few footprints behind seems like a safe bet. Once you’re past the doorway, you break into a sprint again. The next-door rooftop isn’t too far, and after a relatively easy jump, you stumble toward the table tucked closest to the art piece. 

As quickly and quietly as you can, you crawl under the small, square table and arrange the chairs to block your body from view. It’s not perfect, by any means, but it’s the best you can do. 

And it’s not a moment too soon. The door on the other rooftop slams open. Hunter’s dark silhouette stalks out. Even from this distance, you can make out the way his head twitches back and forth as he tries to sniff out your trail. Clenching your jaw, you do your best to calm your labored breathing and urge your racing heart to slow. Anticipation trembles in your limbs.

Hunter jogs to the ladder and picks up your discarded jacket. He leans precariously over the edge of the roof, searching, and for a moment you think you’ve won. 

The wind shifts. 

Cool air sighing past you, you shiver as the sweat dries on your skin. A moment later, Hunter’s head snaps up, and he looks straight at you.

His teeth shine as he bares them in a dangerous smile.

“Oh kriff.”  

You gather your feet beneath you before you remember rule one: don’t run. All you can do is sit, frozen and shaking, beneath the would-be safety of the small table. Hunter prowls toward you. 

When he makes the jump between rooftops, you whimper, scrabbling backward until your shoulders bump against the swirling art piece, deeper into the shadows. You know it won’t help, but the darkness is comforting. Cold seeps into your bones even as your body alights once more with fresh arousal. Kark, have his shoulders always been so broad? 

He comes to a stop directly in front of the table you hide beneath. For a moment, you hold your breath, and the world around you seems to freeze. What is he waiting for? 

The table and chairs scatter with a crash as he yanks the furniture away from you. 

You yelp, surprised fear thrumming through your veins. Above you, standing tall and imposing, Hunter cocks his head at you. He tosses your jacket in your lap. 

“Nice trick,” he says. His voice grates against your skin, causing you to shiver. “Woulda worked if the wind hadn’t changed.” Then he shakes his head. “Well, it woulda worked for a moment. Could smell your cunt all the way over there.” 

He lowers until he crouches in front of you. In the faint starlight, his skull tattoo stands in stark relief, a terrifying visage of death. Your lips part as you pant with need. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how good you smell,” he murmurs. His dark gaze rakes over your cowering form, his tongue wetting his lips. “C’mere.” 

Clawed fingers wrapping around your ankles, he yanks you towards him. You yelp, body stretching flat, and he uses your momentary surprise to tear your pants from you. The fabric yields with a loud rrrrrrip, only to hang in tatters from your waist. 

“K-Kriff,” you swear. “Hunter—”

He shushes you gently. “Let me taste you.” 

He hooks one claw under the flimsy elastic band of your underwear and, with a sharp tug, the fabric snaps twice against your skin. When he peels back the ruined undergarment, you both groan at the faint, shimmery line of slick that pulls away with it. 

Like a man starved, Hunter presses your legs wide open and buries his face in your wet pussy. All concerns about your ruined clothes flee as soon as he licks through your folds. You cry out, pleasure rippling through you as his warm mouth envelopes your center. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you twist the fingers of one hand into his curls, holding his head against you. Your hips rock in pure reaction. Hunter growls, the noise vibrating against your clit. His eyes pierce yours, dark wells of lust and need. Your mouth falls open as you moan. The sounds of your pleasure bounce off the sculpture behind you.

“F-Fuck, Hunter!” you squeal as he sucks on your clit. 

He drags his nose through your folds, inhaling your sweet scent. “You’re soaked, mesh’la. Did you like running from me, huh? Liked running from the big bad wolf?” 

“Ye-e-e-es!” you keen, throwing your head back as he fucks you with his tongue. Deep in your belly, the molten lava of your desire begins to solidify into something more solid, something that promises bone-melting pleasure. 

Overhead, past the art installation, you watch with hazy eyes as the clouds drift lazily across the sky. Steadily, the night grows brighter. Though your upper body remains in shadow, your legs, and with them, Hunter, become bathed in silvery moonlight. 

Hunter’s grip on your thighs turns painful. His claws press a little too hard against your soft skin. Wincing, you snap your attention back to where Hunter’s mouth closes around your cunt. A moan punches out of your chest as you watch his eyes blink rapidly, shifting from lust-blown to golden and shining, alight with an intelligence that isn’t quite human. 

He shoves himself back from you, stumbling away, his entire body convulsing. “D-Don’t run,” is all he manages to grit out before—

Snap! 

You gasp, unable to do anything but watch with wide eyes as Hunter’s body violently contorts and transforms before you. His limbs elongate, knees bending unnaturally, ribs cracking as a new form tears itself out of his skin. Fear and desire chase each other through your body; you don’t know which one you feel most intensely.

With a deep, sonorous howl, the Hunter you know is replaced by a hulking wolven beast. Crouched on two legs, the werewolf pants heavily, staring down at massive, clawed hands. Hunter’s clothes hang off the beast in rags, shredded by the way his body swelled and grew during the transformation. But what strikes you the most is his fur. Dark gray fur, shot through with white streaks, falls in a shaggy coat all across his body. With a jolt you realize the white fur matches exactly the skeleton tattoo Hunter bears—in his wolf form, the tattoo is still humanoid, reflecting the person now trapped within.

“H-Hunter?” you ask, voice shaky and tentative. 

The wolf snaps his attention to you. Those bright, intelligent golden eyes lock onto yours as a snarl, animalistic and deep, tears from him, his teeth bared. His snout, rough and ridged, twitches as he scents you. Your legs remain open, slick folds still bared and glistening in the moonlight.

Dropping onto all fours, the werewolf sniffs the air again. Then, quicker than you can fully process, the wolf pounces. His claws dig into your sides as he drags you closer once more, a startled scream tearing from your throat. The sound only seems to encourage him. Growling deep in his chest, Hunter—the werewolf—he lowers his head and licks a stripe up your pussy. 

You gasp at the odd sensation. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin, but you find it strangely pleasurable. A shudder runs up your body as the wolf laps at your dripping core; the heat simmering in your lower belly blazes back to life, a raging inferno of need blinding you to the fear of what this wolf really could do to you if he wanted. But you don’t dare move within his grasp.

You fight to keep your hips still as you watch the werewolf lick your cunt. Gasping for breath, you catch sight of something—something thick and red, hanging between his thighs. 

A groan claws out of you. “F-Fuck. Hunter, please.” 

Whether the werewolf understands you or not, you’re unsure, but he withdraws his mouth, the fur around his lips soaked with your juices. You heave a shuddering gasp as he hooks one large hand under your ass, angling your body. His other hand wraps around his large, throbbing cock. Watching in fascination, you moan as the slim, pointed tip drags through your soaked folds. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Please.” 

With another low growl, Hunter thrusts into you, burying his thick length to the hilt. You shout, pleasure and pain biting through you in equal measures, as he splits you open. Walls fluttering around the intrusion, you go boneless, forcing yourself to relax. 

Hunter sets a brutal, punishing pace. His cock reaches parts of you no one ever has before, stretching you in ways that you’re sure will ruin you for anyone else. High, heady moans tumble from you with every sharp thrust of his hips, your nipples pebbled in the cold night air. One of your hands squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts, the other snaking down between your bodies to circle around your clit. Pleasure spikes within you, orgasm drawing closer as you play with yourself. 

“G-Gonna—” You let out a choked moan. “Gonna cum.” 

Maybe the wolf does understand you, because he bares his teeth in a terrifying display, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Spit drools onto your heated skin. Gathering some of it on your fingers, you return to your clit to rub frantic circles there. 

Hunter adjusts the angle of your hips by a fraction, and you cum with a scream as he drives into that one devastating spot inside you. Back arching off the permacrete ground, your vision whites out as the wolf fucks you through your orgasm. Wave after wave after wave of pleasure crests over you, until you’re sobbing from overstimulation. 

Pushing with weak arms on the wolf’s chest, you somehow manage to get him to pull out of you, to give you a moment to catch your breath and recover. The wolf looms over you, panting and drooling. His cock twitches when you reach down to stroke the strange appendage.

“Good boy,” you mutter, leaning up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. On a whim, you reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The wolf’s eyes slide shut, a pleased hum vibrating in his chest.

Then his instincts seem to kick back in. With a huff, Hunter flips you, his nails scratching across the soft skin of your tummy. Chest pressed to the ground, ass in the air, you whine brokenly as he pushes his length into your tight heat once again. You rock your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, mind melting into incoherency as he fucks against that shattered piece of heaven in your cunt. A second orgasm begins to build in your lower belly, and you desperately chase it, circling your clit once again. 

Hunter is getting close as well. His incessant growls are steadily becoming higher, more akin to whines than snarls. His claws dig into your flesh hard enough to break skin; tiny rivulets of blood slide down your front. You don’t care, just so long as he makes you cum again. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as your body winds tighter and tighter, orgasm threatening to pull you under at any moment. In your slick cunt, Hunter’s cock pulses, and seems to bulge. 

Then, without warning, he buries himself in you as deep as he can go. You cry out, body shuddering with pleasure as his cock—swelling and knotting—presses against your walls. You cum on his knot like that, squealing in delight, nerves obliterated and frayed as he cums with a howl. Knot pulsing, he paints your insides with ropes of hot cum that just don’t seem to stop. He fills you to the brim, and then some—you can feel his hot spend dripping down your thighs where it leaks out past his cock.

Slowly, Hunter begins to transform back into himself. His fingernails shrink, pulling the tips from your body. His fur dissolves into ash, and now against your back, his sweaty skin sticks to yours where he gasps for air. But his cock remains knotted in your cunt, both of you swollen and sensitive. 

You regain the ability to talk before he does. “H-Hunter. Hey. You okay?” 

He hums, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“I need a verbal answer,” you say between pants. 

“I’m—fuck, I’m good.” He pushes himself off you with shaky arms. But he remains kneeling behind you, locked in your tight walls. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Not in any way that I didn’t like,” you say. “Honestly kind of forgot about the panic button. Not that I wanted to use it,” you hurry to add. “That was... I don’t even have the words. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t cut it.” 

He chuckles, and the vibrations make you both moan. Your pussy clenches weakly around him. With warm, human fingers, Hunter squeezes the flesh of your ass and rocks you gently back and forth. 

“Oh stars,” you breathe. “I can’t, Hunter, it’s too much—”

“You can,” he murmurs. His hands help you move, each gentle thrust loosening the knot still swollen inside you. “You can take it, mesh’la.” 

Keening, your hands scrabble for purchase. Fingers wrapping around his wrists where he holds you, you crane your neck to look back at him over your shoulder. His face is sweaty, hair plastered to his skin, and his lips are flushed and swollen. His eyes are half-lidded and still dark with lust. In a word, he looks debauched. When his gaze meets yours, he smirks.

“That’s it,” he encourages, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips. “Just like that.” 

You cum again, preening under his praise despite the way your aching body screams for rest. This orgasm is slow, bone-deep and debilitating in its power. But the extra gush of slick is enough to push Hunter out of you. You both groan at the sensation of separating. 

“Look at that,” Hunter murmurs. When you glance back again, his eyes are transfixed on your cunt. His cum, all of it, wells up and spills out of your spent pussy. Seemingly without realizing it, he gathers some of the sticky substance and pushes it back into your cunt with his thumb. 

You hiss. He withdraws his hands, then tugs you up onto your knees and cradles you to his chest. “You did so well, mesh’la.” 

“You, too, Hunter,” you mumble against his skin. For a long while, the pair of you remain there, wrapped in a comforting embrace, until you chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks. 

“Our clothes are ruined,” you say. “How are we supposed to go anywhere?” 

He laughs with you, despite not having an answer. That’s alright, you think, it’s an excuse to get him into one of those rooms downstairs....

Ragu: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @imarvelatthestars @originalcollectionartistry @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @jedi-hawkins if your name has a strikethrough, I can't tag you so check your settings! (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[aether-starlight]

Those Eyes - Rafayel

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: Rafayel takes up on your offer to hang out and something of his catches your eye.

Word Count: 1k

For all Rafayel complained about hunter’s lack of refinement, you were quite an avid reader. He watched you get through half of your book in one afternoon, brows creased in concentration.

It was something fantastical, a journey amongst strangers with a common goal who would later become friends.

He supposed that if the core of you could be described by a book, it would be something like that.

Meanwhile, he had been painting —not studying you and following your mannerisms like a total weirdo, not at all. 

Since that time you had realized your face was on his canvas —he underestimated your artistic eye— he had settled for details. Pieces of you he could keep only for himself.

His current work had the expressiveness of your eyes, it swirled in the color of your irises and dipped into your pupils. 

To most, it probably appeared abstract, perhaps sand slipping down or crashing waves, the bark of a tree, a midnight sky.

To him, it was another attempt at unraveling you. He wanted to find the soft center of who you were, brush against your sharp side. 

There was a secret at the edge of your lips and he wanted to hear all about it. 

He imagined that kissing you would feel like drifting at sea, fresh water easing the blazing sun as all earthly burdens dissolved into salt water.

And yet, here he was, sitting across from you, making a total fool of himself. 

“You know, I met the author,” he feigned nonchalance, gesturing at the book cradled between your hands. “Had a nasty habit of interrupting people.”

“As opposed to talking all the time?” You raised an eyebrow, smirking to yourself. You were way too smug about your own jokes.

“You know, there was a time when you were actually polite to me.”

“It wasn’t you, per se. It was AI you.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” He shrugged.

Your gaze drifted from him to the canvas.

“I like your painting,” you praised, uncharacteristically. “I don’t know why, but it feels like longing.”

Rafayel felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. He coughed.

“You think?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against your hand, draped over his sofa like a lazy cat. “Are you going to auction it?” 

“No.” His reply was visceral and much too quick, enough for you to perk up, and close the book on your lap.

It was his eternal curse; when he wanted you to pay attention to him, you ignored him. When he wanted you to pay him no mind, you were like a hound dog on his trail.

“Why is that?” You feigned to be casual.

“Artistic reasons you wouldn’t begin to understand,” he primly smiled at you.

“Uh huh.” 

You stood from the sofa, stretching a little before coming to sit by his side on the stool. It was a tight fit.

He liked everything about it.

How cozy you looked, out of your hunter’s uniform, barefoot and dressed comfortably. The way sunlight bathed down your hair like a cascade of gold.

Most of all, he enjoyed the openness in your gaze when it met his.

“What if I want to buy it?” You pouted. “Not even a painting for your bodyguard?”

Rafayel felt himself blushing.

“This?” He scoffed. “You have seen nothing yet, Miss Bodyguard. I’ll make you a painting the size of your bedroom wall.”

“I don’t care about the size.”

His eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Dick.” You slapped his arm.

He laughed.

“You make it too easy. Give me a week and I’ll have something for you,” he offered.

“But I want this painting.”

Rafayel was mystified. 

An idea surged.

He smiled beatifically at you. You narrowed your eyes.

“Alright. I’ll give it to you under one condition.” 

“I’m not posing naked for you.”

“Yeesh, what kind of artists have you met before? It’s nothing like that.” 

He felt just a bit scandalized, and if the idea of you posing for someone else made something ugly sprout at his chest, then it was nobody’s business.

“Then what is it?” You pressed, impatience laced into your voice. 

He leaned closer, until you could discern the light freckles grazing his cheeks.

“Tell me why you want it.”

You blushed furiously, sliding away from him in an instant.

“I told you, didn't I? I like it.” 

Rafayel pressed closer, positively glowing at the opportunity to tease you. 

“Why do you like it then?” 

He smelled like a fresh breeze, and every time he was near, you swore you could hear a distant song over crashing waves.

He was driving you insane.

“Fine.” You shifted closer to him, a silent challenge. 

It might have been your imagination, but his pupils seemed to dilate. “I want it because… I know what it is.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, openly curious.

His breath brushed your cheek, a reminder of the strawberries he had been eating absentmindedly while working.

You kept your attention nailed to the swirls of color. They harmonized, brought each other to life in a way that was both fantastical and realistic.

“I can recognize my own eyes, Rafayel.”

This time he was the one to blush furiously, quickly stuttering: “Narcissistic much?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You wish.” 

He choked back another cough. Dressing himself on his flirty bravado.

“And what if it were? Why would you want a painting of your eyes?” 

“I like the way you made them so expressive.” You looked down and mumbled: “How they feel.” 

“About what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, fish boy.”

“Admit it, you’re just obsessed with me.” 

You scoffed.

“I’m not the one crafting paintings of you.”

Rafayel offered you a look filled with promises of trouble. Beneath the sunlight his irises seemed more rouge than mauve, they were like a sunset reflected over sea water.

“But I bet you fantasize about it.” 

“That made no sense.”

“For someone who wants something from me, you’re being incredibly crass,” he complained. “You’re definitely getting nothing.”

-

The next day he gifted you the painting and refused to let you pay for the delivery.

[sepublic]

Speaking of; The Owl House's pitch bible got leaked as well! So while I look for the rest of it, let’s examine some interesting tidbits I found on Proto-Belos, or 'Obron' as he was once known, and William AKA Proto-Hunter!

Can I just say, I'm quite smug to know that Belos resurrecting the Titan as his endgame was always the original plan? I called it from the start! It was also kinda obvious, but c'mon. The Bionicle fan in me was obsessed.

I'm not surprised about the mentions of Pupa, or the name Obron or even the appearance; We've actually seen all of this before! But what does make me curious is the mention of two other councilors... So there's supposed to be a trio? Again, I always bring up the three statue motif in my speculation about the original plans of the show, I wonder if there's any connection there. Would Kikimora have been one of the other councilors, and who would've been the third? And it seems the coven system was always a thing, early on at least.

Yeah, the mention of '500 years' and the connection to William, etc. Even as Obron he was supposed to have been a human witch hunter turned actual witch. Comparing this to the pilot we got, it may not be Obron that the characters are referring to, since he's not the Emperor. But maybe he declared himself Emperor since he was basically the only one in charge by that point.

Makes me wonder if he hates humans under the delusion of 'I hate modern humans'. He hates what humanity has become and he's taking out his anger on modern humans; We also know the main reason he wants Luz in the pilot, to awaken the Titan. I presume Obron preserved William in stasis and hid him away, only for Luz to wake him up earlier than intended. I can imagine the scene/episode where Obron realizes William has been awake and roaming about for a while now...

There's the confirmation that Prince William and Hunter are the same character, or were. As I guessed, his witch-hunting tendencies would've been established early on as a strange gag, a quirk, only to become so much more darkly significant. I wonder if in this draft, Obron's past as a witch hunter also has relevance; Does he think he's 'saving' humanity by using the Titan to conquer both worlds, wiping out the denizens of one? Also him being a feral kid subsisting off of food given to him by friends is such Labyrinth Runners vibes. Was William always going to have his dynamic with Willow, given Luz plays a bigger role in him opening his mind?

Given we had a 'proof of concept' animation leaked a while back, I wonder if that was an even earlier draft to the pitch bible, given William is PRINCE William. Maybe he's meant to be an actual European human, because European bigotry towards witches existed back then I think, even if it wasn't as pronounced. And Obron does bear a resemblance to one of the Proto-Belos designs, though I'm not sure which came first.

…Huh. Would William have been Obron’s nephew or. God. Would he have been his brother. And while William never grew up because magical stasis, Obron did and now sees his brother be the exact same but also change. Man. And William just has to reconcile, when he gets his memories back, the jump from his brother, a kid like him, to Obron. So we still got the desperate attempt to preserve his brother, only for his brother/Hunter to ‘betray’ him.

[captain-hawks]

BAD HABIT

♡ — aki hayakawa x f!reader

You should know better than to challenge Aki with a bargain, not when he knows exactly how to take you apart.

18+ ONLY

wc — 1.7k

prompt — thigh riding, spit kink (requested by @dabisdancer) additional content — NSFW, 18+, smut, oral fixation, a lot of spit tbh, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, light dom!Aki

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“I thought you were going to quit,” you grouse, flopping down onto the couch beside Aki just as he begins to tug a cigarette out of the open pack sitting on the coffee table. 

An amused huff escapes his lips as he deftly spins the white stick between his fingers, leaning back against the couch cushions and lifting his hips, his other hand digging a lighter out of his front pocket. The action itself is mundane, and yet it’s so reminiscent of the way that he’d roughly bucked upward into your mouth in the very same spot yesterday, a rushing flood of warmth pools in your gut at the sight.

He catches you staring, the corner of his mouth tilting upward with a knowing smirk as he brushes the soft, loose strands out his long hair out of his face. As with most days, the topknot was quickly dismantled after he arrived home, your fingers tugging away the elastic while he pressed you against the kitchen counter and kissed you thoroughly in greeting. 

“I seem to remember you saying how sexy I looked when I smoked, once upon a time," he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Well yeah, before we were dating. When you were just that serious, broody Devil Hunter, looking all…” You trail off, waving your hands in the air for emphasis, “...mysterious and dangerous with your katana and cigarettes.”

Cigarette now propped loosely between his lips, he raises an eyebrow as he speaks around it, “What changed?”

“Now you kiss me with that mouth,” you pout, reaching out for the offending object.

Aki leans sideways, just out of your reach, chuckling as he intercepts your hand and threads your fingers together. “I help protect the world from fucked up supernatural entities for a living. I feel like I should be allowed to have one vice, at minimum.”

“You snore,” you retort without missing a beat.

He clicks his tongue. “Not as loud as you do.”

An indignant noise escapes your mouth as you launch forward to make another pass at the cigarette dangling from Aki’s lips, catching him off guard this time. The couch groans in protest beneath you as your limbs weave and tangle, and the resulting scuffle somehow finds you straddling his thigh as he holds the stick just out of your reach in an outstretched hand.

At a stalemate, you sigh dramatically, “No sex till you quit, then.”

Aki’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t hesitate to flick the cigarette clear across the room, going so far as to kick the rest of the pack off of the table as well. 

“That was disturbingly easy,” you snort.

He shrugs, “I might struggle without cigarettes, but I think I’d actually die without fucking you.”

Both of his hands now free, he brings them to rest on your hips, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt—his shirt. It takes you a moment to come up with any sort of a comeback, your senses distracted by the slow, deliberate drag of his fingertips along the waistband of your panties. You hadn’t quite made it back into pants after showering earlier.

All you can manage on an exhale is a slightly shaky, “Is that so?

He levels you with a stare, suddenly tugging at the right side of the waistband and letting it snap against your hip bone. “As if you’d be able to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Ignoring the way every nerve ending in your body goes alight at even the slightest suggestive touch from him, you mutter, “I could.”

Aki’s responding laugh is warm and rich, an edge of mischief in his tone as he grasps your waist more firmly and drawls, “I don’t think so.”

Any trace of an argument dies on your lips when he subtly shifts the leg that you’re straddling, a smug grin tracking across his face when he watches your back arch at the feeling of his thigh pressing firmly against your cunt. He holds your gaze, pushing his leg directly upward this time to pointedly increase the pressure between your legs.

“I—” 

Aki slides two fingers between his leg and your mound, dragging them against your cunt to feel the damp arousal already soaking through your cotton panties. Leaning in, a shiver courses through your body as his lips brush against the shell of your ear to murmur, “Are you really going to try to lie to me when you’re this wet?”

A whine crawls up your throat as you ever so slightly rock into his touch, and Aki’s responding chuckle is like kindling to the embers churning in your gut.

“That’s what I thought,” he rasps.

He can read you like a fucking book.

You let out a sound of frustration as he pulls his hand away, only to inhale sharply when he grasps your hips once more and begins to firmly drag you along his leg.

“Aki,” you moan, fairly certain that your slick arousal has soaked its way through to his slacks but far too turned on to care.

And given the sight of his own lust-blown pupils, the way his chest has begun to heave, you know he wants you to make a mess.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, repeating his previous motion as his lips go to your neck, all but begging you to ride his thigh.

It’s not worth the effort of trying to save face, trying to act like you’re capable of mustering up the wherewithal to deny him. As insatiable as Aki Hayakawa is for you, the sentiment goes both ways—and fuck if he doesn’t know it.

There’s something that feels particularly filthy about this—rutting against the firm muscle of Aki’s thigh, whimpering like a bitch in heat while he loosens the knot in his black tie and flicks open the top buttons of his pressed, white shirt. The peek of his chest reveals a fading red mark you’d left behind days ago, and the memory of your teeth sinking into his soft skin as he edged you to the point of tears makes you clench against his leg. His fitted black slacks, meanwhile, have been reduced to a wet, slippery runway for your eager cunt.

You reach down to untuck Aki’s shirt from his pants, and he inhales sharply when your fingers brush over the erection that’s straining painfully against the confines of his zipper. His answering moans as you grasp him through the material spur you on, thrusting you near the edge of the precipice of your rapidly building arousal. 

“Come for me.”

His rough, commanding tone is all it takes to send you toppling into searing waves of pleasure, his mouth capturing your own in a heady, messy kiss while his hands guide your hips through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Your nerves are still humming when Aki gently takes you out of his lap and lays you down across the couch cushions, eyes remaining ablaze with lustful intent as he hovers over top of you. There’s a sensation crawling along the curve of your jaw—Aki’s finger. He slowly makes his way across your face, pausing to press down against your bottom lip when he reaches your mouth.

There’s a satisfied look in his eyes when he tracks the unconscious movement of your tongue darting out to swipe across the tip of the digit as your lips automatically fall open.

“You give me a hard time, but you like having things in your mouth, too, don’t you?” He asks huskily. 

He slides his finger further between your lips, groaning quietly in satisfaction as you moan for him, tongue greedily wrapping around the digit. Knowing just one isn’t quite enough, he adds another, his other hand cupping your sensitive pussy. Drool pools in your mouth as you suck on his fingers, need blistering through your body again as he firmly presses into your fluttering entrance through your ruined panties, the slick, wet material sliding against your tight walls.

You shamelessly whine when he pulls his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth, though the disappointment is quickly replaced by a sharp pang of need when cups your chin, drags his thumb over your bottom lip, and murmurs, “Open.”

Your lips part for him as Aki leans down, spitting roughly into your mouth at the same moment that he tugs your panties aside and slides a finger into your soaked cunt. The dual sensation has you writhing beneath him, moaning his name and jerking your hips into his touch.

Dizzy with need, all you can do is nod when he groans down at the sight beneath him and chuckles, “You want more, don't you?"

More fingers.

More spit.

More warm, sticky arousal staining Aki's pants and the couch cushions beneath you.

More everything.

Your mouth falls open wider with a moan when Aki slides another finger into your pussy, thumb massaging your throbbing clit as he pumps the digits in and out. He spits in your mouth again, and you eagerly swallow it down. 

But your entire body is on fire, and it’s not enough. So he stretches you open even wider with three digits, muttering with a boyish smirk how greedy you are as you begin to outright fuck yourself on his fingers. You lift the upper half of your body toward him, lips still hanging open, and something feral flashes across his face as he pulls his fingers all the way out of you, spits in your mouth, and then plunges them deep back into your pussy just as your throat bobs.

Aki makes a rhythm out of it—pump, spit, pump, spit—until the tightly-wrapped coil in your gut snaps, and you sob in pleasure as your climax gushes from you, squirting all over his palm and up the white sleeve of his shirt.

“Fuck,” Aki exhales, dragging a hand through his hair as he looks down at your debauched form, tits spilling out of your rucked up t-shirt, cum dripping from your glistening folds.

And even though your limbs feel entirely boneless, your cunt pulses with anticipation anyway at the clink of his belt as he takes out his thick, flushed cock and rubs its leaking head against your overstimulated clit.

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!