#sub wriothesley

[rosedom]

AHH UR SO RIGHT, fucking him over his bike, his pride and joy, while he gasps and moans while blubbering on how good u make him, how good it is.

AHHH him in leather too, he'd look so fine with a leather jacket bro omfg (≧▽≦) the way he'd tremble when you'd bite his neck, marking him up all from his neck to his shoulders as he tries to he quiet, embarrassed that he's feeling this good with you railing him over his precious bike

Maybe he's known as the "bad boy," the complete opposite of you,, and nobody would expect the two of you to even speak to each other,, but here the two of you are, both of you pretty much trembling from overstimulation and how good you're both feeling aahdbsksbdjs

It's such a good idea omfg ahdhshdbs ur brain is so good it's amazing

-pera

"in an open match, 【 pera 】 has invited WRIOTHESLEY to play . . . dress for the slide

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!wriothesley, modern au, sex against a motorcycle, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, dirty talk + teasing + lowk praise, lighthearted bickering (mid- and post-coitus), slight breeding kink, creaming, creampie, alluded aftercare .

A/N : i know it technically wasn't an invitation, but . . ye<3 + fun references of dad!wrio with sigewinne <33

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Wriothesley is not an arrogant, prideful man. He is humble; he tips generously at restaurants, holds the door open for anybody coming up behind him, greets people—you especially—with a kind smile. 

The scars marring his body, the thick leather of his jacket and pants, the spikes and chains worn like jewelry, accessories—it’s intimidating, sure, but on him, it’s hardly such. 

Little children—they bound up to him, pulled as if by a magnet. It’s adorable, it’s endearing; and Wriothesley takes it all in stride, smiling that toothy grin of his and giving lollipops and candies from God-knows-where. (He’s got a pocket in his jacket just for sweets.

It’s why he always smells like sugar, beneath his frosty cologne.)

And speaking of children... Wriothesley is so good with ‘em. He holds custody over small Sigewinne, for crying out loud! She’s quite popular in school, too; while she's certainly a ball of sunshine on her own, her father certainly seals the deal for her—especially when he drops her off and picks her up in that hot ride of his:

a goddamn motorcycle. 

Now, you’re not exactly an expert in the things: all you know is that it looks badass, and it makes Wriothesley all the more ruggedly handsome to you. 

And, well.

It just so happens that, now, you’ve got this ruggedly handsome, sugar-frosted man all for the taking, spread out across the seat of that damn bike. He’s got his usual get-up on for when he rides—leather jacket, torn jeans, simple tee—, his hair a mussed up mess from where he took off his helmet. The helmet is resting precariously on the back seat, a support for Wriothesley’s body as you kiss him silly.

“Hah—wait, wait,” he’s pushing you back, breathless, his leather, fingerless gloves accentuating his fingertips, the short, bitten nails of his. His cheeks are tinged pink, and he looks good enough to eat—to devour. 

You hum, tip your head to the side to nonverbally ask, What’s up? but Wriothesley’s twisting around just-so, just enough to grab his helmet. He passes it off to you—with, to your delight, shaking hands—, and asks, “Can you put this on the ground?” You raise a brow, taking it anyway to do as he asks, and he continues, sheepish. “I—ah, I don’t want it to fall.”

You laugh, then, corralling back up to him once the helmet’s safely deposited on the grass (and not the pavement, thank you. You’re not a monster, letting something as sexy and sleek as that helmet risk getting scratched up). 

“Oh?” You lean back in, making like you’re about to kiss him again—kiss him proper, now, without worrying about the precarious balance of his beloved helmet—, but you dip down at the last second to press hot, searing kisses across his throat. “Why would it fall?” you continue, chuckling at the soft whimper that falls past his lips. “Unless you’re thinking about something naughty.”

He goes silent; the motorcycle rocks, just a little.

You pay it no mind, though. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you coo instead, lapping at the heavy thrum of his pulse. He groans, strong, leather-bound hands coming to wrap themselves around your biceps, yet he makes no other noise besides the quiet sounds of each exhale. 

Soon enough—because it seems Wriothesley truly is intent on keeping it zipped—, your mouth has landed on the softest, most tender part of his neck. You hone in on it like you’re some type of mosquito blood-sucker, lips wrapping around his skin and sucking, suckling, working your tongue over it until it blooms a pretty shade of purple.

You tire quick, though, of the lack of vocal reply from your lover. “You can’t tell me you haven’t fantasized about this already,” you murmur, suckling a new mark opposite of the first one you’ve set prominently, “about me, about me fucking you jus’ like this...” You slide your hands up from his side to cup his jaw, thumbing at the subtle stubble as he looks up at you with such icy-blue irises. 

You don't expect Wriothesley to nod. “I do,” he adds on, to really fluster you. 

“I—ah?” You hiccup, pause, bite at the side of his neck mere inches above your first mark. “Gimme the deets.” 

(It’s fun, to be immature like this.) 

He huffs above you, gentle laughter shaking you from where you suckle bruise after bruise after bruise, leaving him looking like he got mauled by a bear, or whatever. (Your possessive heart soars at seeing your claim spread across his skin, where even his jacket collar can't cover. 

Everybody will know he's yours.) 

“Stop talkin’ like that,” he grumbles—the effect lost by the way he laughs—, “you sound like a teenager.”

“A horny teenager.” 

He barks out a true laugh at that, the sound spilling into a soft moan when you suck at the slight hollow of his throat, the area oversensitive because of the scars. “You're insufferable.”

“And hard,” you murmur, rolling your hips down into him. The motorcycle creaks at your movement, but, this time, it stays still—perfectly still. (You thank Wriothesley for the care he gave his bike, going as far as to invest in a good and proper kickstand. 

He definitely didn't imagine this when buying that, though.) 

It's time to up the ante, then (to really test the give of the product.)

“Lemme fulfill those dirty fantasies of yours, sweet thing,” you coo, suddenly dropping the pretense of light-hearted teasing and diving right on into adopting that tone of voice you know makes Wriothesley utterly helpless in his arousal. 

Yet, “Sigewinne rides on this with me—” he tries to say. 

“So?” You dip down, hot breath fanning against his lips. His eyes cross to follow your descent, trained on your mouth getting closer, closer. “I’ll clean it.

“Besides,” you continue, rubbing the tips of your noses together. His own breath tickles your face. “I want you to be reminded of this. Every time you go on a ride, you’re gonna be thinking about this—about me, about the way I ruined you right here, right on your precious lil’ bike. 

“You’ll always be reminded of this.” 

You don't expect the way he mutters, all breathless off of nothing but the pleasant ache across his neck from the hickeys and your dirty, dirty words—it’s a simple, a quiet but gruff, “Good.” 

“Good?” You tip your head to the side. 

Wriothesley only huffs again, pulling you closer with the hands he's moved to your shoulders. You swear you can feel the grooves of his gloves through your own shirt. “Good,” he repeats, easy confidence dripping from his voice. (You want him to drip with something else.) “I want to remember.” 

And, really, the grin you give is downright ridiculous, this love-sick, dopey thing that has no place in such a charged environment; but Wriothesley shares it with you, your own private smiles, and then he's surging forward and pulling you down to meet him in a desperate kiss, one all tongues and teeth. 

“Now quit talkin’,” he drawls, licking at the roof of your mouth, “and make g-good on that promise.” 

“Promise?” You chuckle, dark, a play out of Wriothesley’s own book. It doesn't fit you, really—you, the epitome of a good boy, a handsome sonuvabitch who has grandmas tripping over themselves trying to marry off their granddaughters. (“Oh, isn't he charming, sweet Cecily?” 

“Grandmama, I’m a lesbian.”)

“I didn't promise you anything, Wrio,” you coo, but your mouth and hands are hardly on the same wavelength; as you tease him with your words, dripping straight sin, your hands are unbuckling the heavy metal strung across his hips, thumbing down the fly ‘til you get your fingers wedged right between his thighs. “Maybe I should have you beg, hm? Beg to be ruined right now, right here on the same bike everybody sees you ride around town in.

“Oh,” you murmur, then, an idea springing to your mind as your fingertips press to the throb of his cock even through his briefs, “isn’t that an idea?” He whimpers, the sound so soft, so—so unbecoming, if you didn't know Wriothesley the way you do. “E’rybody’s gonna see you ridin’ this, and they're not gonna have a damn clue, are they? They're not gonna know the way you spread yourself so eagerly across her pretty seats—” you tease him by calling the bike a her, knowing how peculiar Wriothesley is about personifying the thing. 

He nods, hips humping desperately into your fingers. The whole time, he's making these other soft sounds, and you're taken, over and over again, by how lucky you are to have such a strong man at your mercy. “Please,” he begs. “Quit talkin’, and fuck me.”

Snickering, you bump your palm against his mons, saying, “But you love it when I tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you.” 

Unable to even deny it, he groans, deep and throaty. “I do,” he acquiesces while you take away your hand and help lift him enough to shimmy down his jeans and boxers both, “but I’d love it better if you'd do more than just talk.” You leave the fabrics bunched mid thigh as you stand him up proper and spin him around, pressing him gently into the leather upholstery. 

It’s quick, after that, to curl over the heft of him, to nudge your fingers back down between his bare thighs to tease at this thick cock, his throbbing cunt. He's soaked, off so little, and it's easy, too, to slide in one, two, three, working him open in soft, gentle movements that stretch him without a biting burn. 

“I’m ready,” he bemoans, shimmying his hips ‘til he bumps against your own erection, tenting at your own pants. “Fuck me!” His hips move, tantalizing, teasing, and you find, unsurprisingly, that pre-cum is seeping through the fabric of your boxers. 

“Fine, fine,” you murmur, pressing your fingertips against his g-spot for the first time today, the spot swollen beneath your touch. He mewls, chasing the pleasure, and you give it to him readily as you dig your cock out from your fly, barely pushing your pants down enough to rest just past your balls. 

Now that your cock’s out, you slide your fingers from his wet, loose heat. (It never ceases to amaze you, how loose a cunt he gets when he's sufficiently aroused. He opens so easily for you, sopping off of nothing but some words, some foreplay.)

No matter how wet he is, though, you're still careful to further slick him up with lubricant. You dip into him just-so, just enough to slather his hole and cock both in lube. He starts, slightly, at the starkness of something cold against where he's most hot, most sensitive. “Ah.”

Grinning devilishly against the nape of his neck, nosing down the high leather collar of his jacket, you drag out your fingers, terribly slow; and, only when you're sure Wriothesley is well aware of just where your hand is, you slather your own hard cock with the mess of lube and his slick. 

“Ready?” 

He huffs. “I’ve been ready, babydoll.” 

You laugh at that, nudging your cockhead up and into his loose hole. The resistance is hardly evident—really, his body gives so easily for you—, your cockhead popping in in that perfectly saccharine way that always makes you groan low, makes Wriothesley whimper high in his throat.

“So open for me, babydoll,” you coo—his own word against him—, one hand dropping from his hip to brace against the seat of the bike. It hasn't gotten truly unsteady yet, but you always like to err on the side of caution when your beloved is involved. (Plus, you’re really not keen on having to buy a replacement bike for him. 

A year’s salary alone probably couldn't buy a bike as souped up as his, the years Wriothesley put into the thing paying off beautifully in the long run. That damn bike's been around longer than you’ve been his boyfriend.)

Your cock slips in quick, easy, smooth, sliding right in down to the hilt, where you pause to let him adjust to your size. And, like clockwork, he shuffles his hips side to side against your one-hand hold and breathes out a low, whistling breath, says, “Okay.” 

With that simple word—that small phrase, really—, you’re drawing your hips out slow n’ slick, the sound frankly obscene in the quiet around you. His bike doesn't so much as creak this time, either: it’s silent but swaying in time with your thrusts, barely noticeable and not at all that important, supporting the weight of you both and the heft of your next tender thrust. 

Nosing at his sweat-damp hair, you drawl, “Look’it you, sweetheart, all open n’ pliant for me on my cock. You’re takin’ it so well, pretty thing right on your pretty bike.” 

“Baby—” he starts to say something else, but he gets cut off with his own moan, your thick cock budding up against his g-spot. You feel him froth around where you're balls-deep in him, and you slide your hand from hip to mons. 

“Want my hand, Wrio?” you ask, fingers brushing the mess of black curls sprouting from between his thighs. 

He nods vehemently, his bangs splayed across his sweaty forehead. God, if anybody walked by, drove by—they’d get an eyeful of your Wriothesley, fucked silly and hot by your cock; they’d get their heart’s content of punked-out Wriothesley, leather gloves and leather jacket spread across leather upholstery, his accessorizing chains rattling off with each thrust.

But Wriothesley is yours and yours alone; you wouldn't dare share the sight with anybody else. As such, you curl yourself further over his stretch-out, prone body, breathing hotly against and moaning against the blushing shell of his ear. 

“There we go,” you murmur, taking to circling the throbbing head of his cock with a gentle finger. He mewls into the air, his head almost limp on his shoulders. “There we go.” 

“F-feels good,” he moans as he tips his head into yours. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you ask, rhetoric, switching from circling to stroking him, your pointer and middle finger lightly squeezed on either side of his straining erection, moving forwards n’ backwards in gentle undulations. You swear you can feel his heartbeat in each throb of his cock, driving you to give it to him better, sweeter. “I can feel you throb for me, sweet thing: are you already that close?”

No longer trusting his voice (which is a shame, really, considering how much you love to hear those ruined syllables pass from his lips), Wriothesley can only nod, letting his head loll even further forward ‘til he’s practically curved over the seat of the bike. You follow him all the way down: you, wrapped over his curled back; and him, head pillowed on his crossed arms. A shimmer of sweat makes itself known on the sleeves of his jacket, the leather of it catching the sun. He’s devolved to helpless moans.

While he trembles beneath you, around your cock, you hone in on that perfect angle—the angle of your fingers stroking him off, the angle of your cock bumping against the spots deep in his cunt that never fail to pull Wriothesley apart. “There we go,” you repeat, your own words coming out muddled with the pleasure threatening to pull you under, instead. “‘m gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up ‘til you can’t take anymore—y-you want that, baby? Want me to breed you while you cream my cock—”

“—yes!” His voice is shot to hell, this raspy thing that’s somehow thrice as gruff as normal and equally as hot, as absolutely, resolutely ruined. “Yes, yes! Breed me, w-wanna be bred...” He tapers off with a whimper, cunt beginning to tighten up around you as his orgasm threatens to pull him under with you—no longer just apart, but wholly wrapped in you, safe and protected. 

“Cum for me, then—mm—, Wrio, Wriothesley—”

He whimpers, again, and you barely catch a whisper of your own name in the intelligible mess before you’re cumming, too, your cock pulsing with each involuntary squeeze of Wriothesley around you. Even as blood rushes through your ears, though, you’re whispering sweet words—nasty words, each one making him whimper n’ whine—, your fingers—long-trained, by now—keep up the gentle strokes of his cock until he’s too sensitive to go on. You withdraw them slowly, even as you’re still pumping him full with cum, even as his cock is still helplessly twitching and cunt still milking you for all you’re worth.

Coming down from your highs, then, is a slow, drawn out thing. You stay seated to the hilt, but you tease at the way his cunt’s spread open around the base of your cock, your fingers coming back covered in opaque white. He whines and weakly kicks his leg back, but you only laugh, bringing his cum up to your lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. You groan—more-so for show, to get a rise out of your boyfriend—at the taste, and he seems to finally find his voice at that.

“Quit it,” he says; and, damn, did you do a number on his voice. It seems to have dropped an octave, all syrupy-slow and gruff in that way he always gets post-coitus. “‘s nasty.”

“I’m nasty?” Laughing, you nuzzle your cheek against the back of his head, cat-like in your affections. “You begged for it.” 

Wriothesley groans. When he attempts to lean up, you help by wrapping your hands around his abdomen—surely leaving a patch of saliva somewhere on either his tee or jacket—and prop your chin on his shoulder... all while you’re still balls-deep. 

“Hi,” you say, grinning. You can feel his eye-roll. 

But he says “hi” back anyway, letting his head fall back onto your own shoulder. He tilts his face towards you and meets your gaze with a satisfied sort of smile. 

“Well?” you ask. “Did I live up to your fantasies?” 

He nods. “And more,” he adds; but then he’s pulling off of and away from your cock, leaving you no time to dwell on it. “I starkly remember you saying you would clean my bike.” 

“I did.”

“Get to it then.” 

You grumble, though, tugging him back into your with the bear hold you’ve got wrapped across his torso. “You and the bike,” you finally correct, “and you come first. C’mon.”

Whether or not you actually get to cleaning that leather upholstery, well... Wriothesley may be driving Sigewinne to school tomorrow while sitting on a barely-there, all-dried patch of his and your cum. 

i got rlly carried away . . this was 3k words before i even knew it >< . . but: was this inbox from february? ye. does my pera anon still show their face? idk ! if ur still here, this is dedicated to u, honey <33 i know this may feel shallow of me, but i really do miss u guys when u disappear (；′⌒`)

[st4rrth0ughts]

thinking abt big men being so cock drunk he begs for you to ruin him in public spaces :33

They cant get enough of you, its not their fault you fuck them so well! They follow you like a lost puppy, his voice soft and pleading, hands tugging your clothes as the wet patch in his pants grow ever so visible. Begging you to drag them into the bathroom, nearest deserted office, hell, they'll let you fuck them in the forest if you wanted to. They beg you to no end, whining as they kneel at your feet while you do paperwork, trying to hump himself on your thigh. So of course, you decide to indulge him.

Grab him and drag him into the nearest bathroom, watch him fumble with your belt, drag down your pants, and watch him gratefully take your length into his mouth, throat bulging as he struggles to take in your load when he sends you over the edge.

Lock (or don't) the both of you in a empty office, grab his ass and tease your finger over his neglected pussy, spread him open on the desk, get between his thighs and plunge your tongue into his depths, watch him gasp and squirm as your finger plays with his nub, and enjoy him crying out as he squirts from your ministrations.

Pin him to a tree that barely covers you two, rip off his clothes and push your thick cock into his wet clit. Watch him squeal and scream out in pure ecstasy as you fuck him raw against the tree, at risk of letting people walking by and hearing his slutty cries. Make him cum over and over on your cock, and fill him with your seed as he begs for you to fuck a kid in him. Savour how his eyes roll back, his tongue lolling out as he weakly leans against the tree while you hold him up, your strong hands combined with your fat cock splitting him in half making him loose his mind.

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blade, dan heng, dan feng, dr ratio, luka, sampo, jingyuan, argenti, gepard, wriothesley, kaeya, itto, gorou, zhongli, xiao, alhaitham, kaveh, diluc, neuvillette, ayato, childe, cyno + your favs ♡

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[plaguechyld]

Your hands are pressing his to the mattress so possessively...

It's sinful how loud he moans when you stop him from grabbing onto you, pinning his scrambling and twitching hands to the soft sheets of the bed he was being fucked so mercilessly on.

"Pl- Pleasheee!~" he cries out for you and calls your name soon after. His voice is broken, desperate and a clear representation of his debauched self.

The many hours he had spent under your body, receiving the mind breaking pleasure that you had to offer him had already turned his pretty little head to mush.

Oh, but he should've known better, right? Known better than to flirt with that whore at the bar. But he just couldn't get enough of your jealously filled roughness. It was truly divine, pushing his body well past its limits.

"Hic- 'm SORRY!!~♡ Re-really am- HNGH~" his voice is breaking, it's pitch is so high and whiny as he pleads for a break, for you to slow down. But he knows he doesn't really want that, he wants to be fucked brainless, turned into a stupid little slut, your stupid little slut.

Your thrusts continued their harsh pace, bullying your darling's hole just right. You kept hitting the poor thing's bruised and throbbing prostate, driving him to orgasm for the nth time that night. But.. did you give him permission? No, you didn't.

"Wuh-wait! No 'm sorry- pleashe forgive m-me! AHN!-" his little babbling apology is cut short by yet another hard thrust and another mean bite to his already tender neck. He's biting his lip as you squeeze his pretty hands tighter and pin his body down with an even firmer grip.

No matter how much the pretty thing pleads for you to stop he never uses his safe-word, only screaming out your name like its going to make you forgive him. Well.. you already have forgiven him, but were you going to pass up the opportunity to have your baby crying and begging? No, you weren't. So he's just going to have to take it for a while longer.. ♡

KAEYA, CHILDE, dottore, kaveh, boothill, DOUMA, sunday, DAZAI, NIKOLAI, zhongli, HAWKS, wriothesley, alhaitham, dabi, dan heng, jing yuan, AVENTURINE, dr. ratio, your favs...

[livelaughlovesubs]

I’m having unholy thoughts again but-

Imagine manhandling someone bigger/stronger than you

They could break free so easily and overpower you or show off their strength, but they are letting you do it to them instead. Watching with curiosity and excitement as you grab their waist and push them around. They’d be so passive all the time, wanting, desiring and hoping you’d just pin them to the bed with their legs spread. Force them into whatever position you desire, the more humiliating the better. Tie them up, hold their wrists together and be rough with their body. Make them feel vulnerable and weak, take away the control from them and turn them into mindless whores~

(Bonus, if they are really big too and muscular ugh)

Gojo, sukuna, suguru, alhaitham, wriothesley, Blade, Jing Yuan, fyodor (?), Douma, Mammon, Lucifer

[elvesbyheart]

just imagine having him on your lap,, fingering him while his legs were spread. why?

u don't know. both of u just hate each other so much.

" hngh-~ " he would moan out. tears of pleasure rolling down, embarrassing himself. " f'- asshole- " he'd mumble between his moans,it was so cute you just wanna make him cry even more.

" ah..but who's the one crying here,slut. " watching him squim while you fuck his stretched hole.

" mmf~! ah~-! " you'd hear him yell. getting your finger deeper.

" c'mon~ just admit that you like this and I'll give u what you really want..~ "

wriothesley,megumi,gojo,blade,jingyuan,your faves<3

[kisakis-boyfriend]

I Heart Subs ❤️ pt. 5

Thinking about the subs that absolutely need to cockwarm you, no matter what you were doing or what they were doing beforehand.

They need you to fill their mouth so that they can relax, maybe even let their mind go blank for a while. You ease your dick into their wet mouth and they hum around it, the feeling of something heavy — but not too heavy — on their tongue is bliss.

Your fingers absentmindedly play with their hair while you begin to relax too. The light scratching on their scalp lulls them even further into this wonderland that you share.

Alternatively...

They climb into your lap and beg to be your sweet little cockwarmer. Your beloved's bottom clothing is discarded before they slowly ease themselves down onto your length, taking the whole thing in with a deep sigh.

Their hole is warm and tight– and they soon relax. Muscles go slack while they lean back against your chest or, if they're facing you, they wrap their arms around your neck and doze off.

They need to feel you inside of them, warm and comforting, while they work. Or while you drape a blanket over your laps and watch tv, play a game, read, or do some other activity. The way you make them feel whole whenever you're connected like this becomes heaven.

-

— HANMA, MIKEY, Wakasa, ALHAITHAM, Neuvillette, Wriothesley

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

[cyberchronics]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

wriothesley + aphrodisiacs ♡♡

he's always prepared for whatever trouble you plan on causing while visiting him at the Fortress. toys? almost too easy to deal with. a sexy outfit? it only makes him wish he could take it off. restraints? don't make him laugh. he'll wear a collar like a badge of honor let you use his handcuffs.

but for whatever reason, he never expected you to be this sneaky. his cup of tea is barely halfway finished before the effects wash over him, making his body grow weak as he slowly recognizes the feeling. his underwear grows tighter and a stifled groan slips past reddened lips as his glass is set on the table.

he knew buying you that pyro regisvine nectar would come back to bite him in the ass.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Every visit to Meropide starts the same. Wriothesley greeting you with a kiss on cheek and escorting you to his office, allowing you past all the security checks without so much as a patdown or walking through a single metal detector. That's how you always manage to sneak in things that has no business being a prison.

He never regrets it, of course. It's the highlight of his day when you find a new way to get him horny and pinned against his desk, ink spilling over once more and ruining hours worth of paperwork.

Today, you managed to sneak an aphrodisiac in his drink at tea time. He doesn't know how he didn't see you pour it in, nor how the cheeky smile on your face didn't alert him. But that's the least of his concern as he slowly ruts against the thigh pinning him in place. He's practically begging for your touch like this, drool spilling past his lips and soaking into his tie.

"Mmph... please, baby." Every movement is achingly slow to Wriothesley. He hates when your skin isn't on his, wishing you would just rip off his clothes instead of slowly unbuttoning each article like he was a delicate doll. You know he can take the rough treatment, he thinks, just give him what he wants.

He's laid out prettily on his desk, papers crinkled under the curve of his ass while his legs dangle off the edge. The tuft of hair at the base of his cock is shining, soaked in fluid as your fingers wrap around the shaft. He bucks up into the warmth blindly, glad that this isn't a punishment as he throws his head back.

Spilling into your hand once isn't nearly enough for him. In fact, he feels as if he'll never be satisfied again as his hips keep going desperately. His cock slaps against his stomach as you let it go, the whine in his throat slipping out as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body on top of his own. Wriothesley's words are slurred as he whispers into your ear.

"I know you did this to me... take responsibility."

And so you do.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

a/n: def didn't forget about ktober.... also wrio is so bad im def writing more for him

[rosedom]

P-p-pussy drunk reader and wrio. Man's squeezing his thighs and reader just keeps licking!!!

"an unnamed player has invited WRIOTHESLEY to play . . . you are destined to drown

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!gn!reader, sub!ftm!wriothesley, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms that leads to overstimulation, creaming & squirting, pleading + praise .

A/N : i am such a sucker (pun-intended) for wriothesley . . . o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Wriothesley is a strong, strong man: this, you know well. 

You also know that Wriothesley is not a man to mess with. The muscles—thick and sinewy, those of his one arm bulging with the effort to reach down, to wrap his fingers into your hair, the other with its veins prominent as he clutches desperately to the pillow beneath his head—are not for show, simple as it. 

The easy strength his body holds makes it all the more sweeter, then, for him to relinquish all control. He gives himself up readily, for you, writhing beneath you as easy as he breathes, in, out, in, outttttt, a puppy-like, gruff n’ whining, “Pleaseeeeee—”

At least, that's what you think he’s crying about. Like this, snug between his large thighs, your ears are well and out of commission. You lean back, trying to parse out each drawn out syllable, and he lets you go, quick, pulling you away, even. 

Face-to-face, Wriothesley is a mess. All that strength, melted away, sunken to the blankets beneath him—it’s riveting, truly. A man so strong, so dominant in every other aspect of his life—here, beneath you. 

Beneath lil’ old you. Hah. It’s a little bit funny how the tables have turned; but, more than that, it’s simply endearing. You’re taken in every aspect by this man.

For all that he submits to you, your heart, your mind, your very being—it all belongs squarely to Wriothesley. He’s got you wrapped around his pinkie. Big man, big hand, big pinkie—all of that, all belongs to you. 

Soon enough, however—and was it even a second passed, all of your love for him drawn up in one tiny millisecond, too quick to have even really passed at all?—, you’re brought back to the present, thanks to something wet splattering across your chin. 

“Oh, baby,” you murmur, collecting the slickness on your fingers and pressing it into your own mouth, catching it on your lips and licking at it with your tongue. He tastes— “delicious.” 

His slick, his cunt itself: both absolutely delicious. But his cunt is a resolute mess. It’s puffy n’ a ruddy-red, slick and shimmering in the light. Thick white—his own creaming—dribbles from his hole, blushed n’ flushed and so fucking beautiful. 

You run your fingers along his taint, catching the errant streaks of opaque white you failed to lick up, collecting the thin and transparent liquid that didn't quite reach your face at the end. 

(Wriothesley isn’t just a creamer, it seems.)

All the while, his fingers curl tight in your hair as he weakly pulls and pushes, caught between wanting your tongue back on him and wanting it gone. 

Then, finally, a rather meak, “A-are you—are you done yet?” His voice is shot to shreds, deep but scratchy, entirely broken.

Too bad you're not done yet. You just found out Wriothesley is a squirter, for Chrissake ! Especially when he tastes so perfect—so heady on your tongue, first from creaming and now from squirting—, the mix of thick and thin cum making saliva pool in your mouth. 

His cunt is so pretty, covered in the sheen of his cum; you think, then, it’ll be prettier still with your saliva added into the mix. 

“You can give me one more, can’t’cha, Wrio?” You squeeze at his legs, your hands slippery, sliding through the slick that covers his inner thighs.

He whines. “I—I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can. Do it for me?” (I forgot to mention that you've got him wrapped around your pinkie, too. 

Whoops.)

“You can,” you repeat, beginning to dip down your head. His grip on you, however, loosens; he’s letting you do as you please.

He tastes, more or less, the same; but, now, he’s hotter and warmer on your tongue, the scant space between his thighs surrounding you wholly. His cock—a large, chubby lil’ thing, obscenely engorged and twitching like mad in your mouth—is oversensitive, but you focus all your attention on it. 

“Oh!” he yells, loud enough for you to hear even through his thighs. You smear your grin against where he needs it most—where he’s most pliant and soft for you—, lick-licking away and getting fill after fill after fill of Wriothesley.

Wriothesley, all encompassing. It is a wondrous sensation that impedes on every one of your senses in the best way possible.

Sight: wholly beautiful, with rogue painting his cheeks and thick tear tracks running down the canvas of red. 

Hearing: a breathtaking chorus of moans n’ moans and whines n’ whimpers. He may be muffling his sounds—shoving a sinewy hand into his mouth, gnawing at the scarred knuckles—, but his thighs aren't soundproof, and you’re loathe to miss out on the beauty that spills from his lips.

Smell: simply musk, heady around you and filling your nose with what is entirely Wriothesley. It is intoxicating: a wine straight from Mond, right between a Fontaine man’s legs.

Touch: him, him, him. You’re touching his thighs to hold him still and open, and you feel him against your face, your chin, your mouth and tongue all at once.

Taste: Wriothesley, Wriothesley, Wriothesley. His cunt, his cock, his fucking ass—it’s so wholly Wriothesley that you're locked right here, lickin’ n’ suckin’ and all things sugar n’ spice. You never want to leave.

(Besides, with that vision sitting strapped to you, you can’t truly drown. This is perhaps the best blessing of the Vision.)

“Too much, ‘s too—” Wriothesley's words flow in your ears all choppedly, all bunched and fucked up. Yet you keep licking, collecting all the slick on your tongue and swallowing it down and bringing him closer and closer to the next peak.

When you speak next, you speak it against his cock. You say, “You taste so perfect, such a perfect cunt for me. Won’t you cum? Mm—” obscene slurps interrupt your words, “won’t you cum again, baby? Cum all over my tongue like a good boy? Make me all messy?”  The movement of your lips, the vibrations sent from your throat—it all drives Wriothesley further mad with pleasure, hips bucking against your grip; yet, not once, does he manage to kick off your grip. He very well could, but he doesn’t. 

He deserves to cum for that, doesn’t he? And cum he does, thighs locking tight around your head, fingers bunching up locks of your hair in his hard grip. The cry ripped from his throat reaches through your muffled hearing, but you do not lean back.

You lick, and lick, and lick, lick him right through his orgasm until he starts shivering, until he begs, “No more, no more, please, ‘s too much,” and other illegible nothings, until he finally lets go and squirts into your mouth. 

You lean back, finally satisfied. You kiss away the leaking slick and creamy-cum combined, crawling up his body to kiss him. He reciprocates eagerly but tiredly, softly moaning at the taste of himself on your lips. Leaning back, you ask, short and sweet and simple, “Good?”

Wriothesley does not respond, for he is already falling into slumber. You laugh, light, kissing away the furrow in his brow—the same one he always seems to develop post-coitus. “Goodnight, my darling,” is the last your lips move, tonight; you fall asleep, him cuddled into your arms stark naked, with the lingering taste of him in your mouth, and it is the best either of you have ever slept.

and a secret sixth sense: horniness. thank u so much for reading ⁠♡

10 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[st4rrth0ughts]

imagine fucking your pretty boy in a mating press... ♡

Hearing shrill sobs escape his lips as he's pounded into the bed, his legs dangling limply over your shoulder as he feels your cock spilt him in half. Letting out delirious shrieks and mewls when you reach so deep into his pussy that he swears he's seeing stars. Grab his hands and pin them above his face, not letting him grab onto anything or try and cover his pretty expression as fat tears drip down his cheeks. Make him beg for your knot, beg you to fill him up, get him pregnant. Cum deep and hard inside him, his voice breaking as he creams around your fat cock over and over again, eyes rolling back as he sobs and begs for mercy. Your seed dripping out of his abused pussy. Fuck your cum back into his red puffy cunt, break him until the only thing he can say and remember is your name~♡

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dainsleif, wriothesley, kaeya, itto, gorou, albedo, zhongli, wanderer, heizou, kazuha, xiao, venti, kaveh, alhaitham, tighnari, lyney, thoma, diluc, neuvillette, ayato, childe, cyno, blade, imbibitor lunae, dan heng, dr. ratio, jingyuan, argenti, welt, luka, sampo, gepard, luocha, your faves~

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[yaespook]

Canines.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! AMAB! Werewolf! Reader x Sub! Bottom! Wriothesley, oral (reader giving), snowballing, rimming (reader giving), gratuitous mentions of spit, muzzle and leash with collar used on Wriothesley, knotting. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The bottom paws of the fortune cat appear on the front desk.]

Getting a new rookie transfer under him this late into the year wasn’t exactly what Wriothesley was expecting.

His office door opens abruptly but you seem almost as bewildered as he is at this surprise. No biggie, the issue is sorted out quickly and seeing that you don't have any case files or inmate registration papers on you (or any sort of personal records at all for the matter), he runs through the essentials before sending you off with a list of duties. 

He watches as you leave his office, you'll undoubtedly be an interesting case to handle.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Wriothesley finds you nice enough to be around during work. You're considerate and you work hard to get your job done. It's pleasant to have another regular familiar face beneath the depths and he's not above sharing his tea with you during your shared breaks. And growing closer, he asks you to box with him.

“Just some training, for fun, that's all.” He's lounging in his chair and cracks an eye open to gauge your reaction. “Feel free to say no if you don't want to. I won't die from the rejection.”

Wriothesley is assured in his combat skills, given his experience in the ring and his daily training. So how is it exactly that he's found himself in this position? 

Dragging out the spar by starting off defensive, dodging his attacks, it seemed as if you were going easy on him.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re going easy on me?” He throws a series of hooks and a particularly forceful uppercut.

But he wasn't interested in winning this friendly battle, he wants to see what you're truly made of. Hence, kicking it up a notch, he doubled the speed of the punches he's throwing, forcing you on the offensive. 

“You’re asking for it, Wrio!”

He's caught off guard when you start reciprocating and meeting him with the same speed and intensity in your attacks. Sure, your footwork and pivoting could use some work, but there's something surprising in the force behind your punches.

It ends when you manage to wrestle him into a headlock, the both of you sweaty and panting, his head pressed against your chest as he's suddenly aware of how close the two of you are. Tapping twice on your bicep hooked around his neck, he admits his defeat this time around. Freed from your restraint, he takes the time to massage his trapezius muscles as he gives you a once-over. 

“That was a good one, another next week?” 

You cough, “I think I’ll need more than a week to recover,” your tone sheepish.

It’s not often he’s beaten during spars, and for a rookie like you to do so? Extremely interesting. What exactly is your background? The secret to your seemingly supernatural strength? Since this incident, he’s found himself drawn to you even more.

However, keeping an extra vigilant eye on you means that he picks up on the smaller things that might be signs. The next Friday, you clock in later in the day, missing your shared tea breaks with him, and you clock out far earlier than usual, evident from the little note you leave at your desk when he looks for you.

“Sorry Wrio! Something urgent came up!”

He quirks an eyebrow up at this. What could have been so urgent that you had to leave immediately? Are you alright? Glancing around, he notices a bag left on your chair. Perhaps you left it here in your haste while leaving, but what if its contents are important to you? No matter, he'll see if he can pass it to you after work, it's a good chance to check up on you too.

But since you aren't around for the rest of the day, Wriothesley has strangely discovered that he's getting through his mundane paperwork and administrative duties a lot slower than if you were present. His brows furrow as he sighs to himself and sips his tea alone before continuing his work.

By the time he's done wrapping everything up and leaving, the full moon is already high up in the night sky. When he tears his eyes away from it, he spots you out of the corner of his eye. Though he would call out to you, your behaviour is suspicious, slinking around the shadows sneakily as you try to stay hidden. Wriothesley decides to tail you, just to make sure that you don't get into any trouble that he'll end up having to sort out. (And that he's also worried about you.)

His guard is up when you step into a wild forested area. The dim moonlight breaks in through the leaves of the canopy area, just enough for him to make out the ground beneath him. He watches where he steps in order to avoid generating any noise that might alert you but the second he looks back up for you, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Uneasiness starts to kick in. Wriothesley is uncaring of all the ruckus he’s making while rushing past trees and brambles as he scrambles to search for you. The thorns scrape and tear at his clothes but he pushes on, launching into high gear.

However, the deeper he gets into the forest, the more Wriothesley begins to notice things going terribly wrong.

There’s a heavy presence lurking amongst the dark shadows, one that has its eyes trained on him, watching his every move. Lumbering footsteps echo throughout the forest around him, as if getting closer and closer to his location. The sound of twigs nearby snapping sharply and the rustling of dry bushes. Trying to get to a better lit area within the forest, the chase is on.

He’s being hunted.

The vegetation begins to thin out slightly as he skillfully weaves between trees and he reaches a clearing. Catching his breath, he surveys his surroundings, keen eyes looking for any signs of movement. The moon hangs overhead, sharing its pale light.

And from the treeline, something pounces.

He stumbles back at the sudden impact, the wind knocked from his chest as he collides with the ground, eyes clenched shut. A beat passes before the weight on him suddenly lifts and he hears a gravelly yet oddly familiar voice, “...Wrio?” 

Forcing his eyes open, he finds himself at a loss for words. 

“I’m so so sorry. I assumed you were some kind of hunter stalking after me and…” your words spiral and trail on but he can’t seem to process anything you’re saying since he’s preoccupied with taking in this sight of you.

In this form, you’re a lot taller than he is and your physique is nothing short of intimidating. Is this where your impressive strength comes from then? Raking his gaze over your body, he pauses at your flexed thigh muscles from holding yourself above his pelvis. (You could crush him between them and he’d die a happy man.)

Your fur gleams under the moonlight, captivating him as a gentle breeze ruffles through it. By the time he tunes back into your spiel, all he catches is you saying, “I’ll make it up to you-”

“Make it up to me?”

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck me then.” He sees your ears shoot up as you try to gauge whether he actually means it and he tacks on, “I’m being serious. Plus no one will find us here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Fine, but pipe up if I’m too rough on you.”

A grin stretches across Wriothesley’s face at your agreement but it’s quickly replaced with a hiss when you drop and grind your dick down against his. Leaning forward, you have him completely pinned beneath you, your body heat and larger frame on his is simply dizzying.

“I’ll give you some kisses to start, hmm?”

He watches as your maw opens wide, showcasing your sharp teeth. He can feel your canines on either side of his face as you lick at his lips but there’s enough trust between the two of you that you won’t clamp down, your fangs gently grazing his skin. You wouldn’t hurt him after all.

You bury your snout in his neck, taking in his scent as the both of you grind against each other, a snarl leaving your throat as you feel how hard and soaked he’s getting under you. 

“So wet, Wrio. Are you that desperate?” Shifting and sitting up to strip him of his clothes, he chuckles as he replies, “Only for you.”

Taking off his shirt, you let out a low whistle at the man before you. His broad shoulders, salt and pepper chest hair on his pecs, the body hair and healed scars littered throughout, and not to mention his lovely happy trail up till his naval. Truly, a sight to behold.

Getting him out of the rest of his clothes, you nudge his legs apart and settle between them. Compared to your looming stature, Wriothesley gets a sense of how much smaller he is when your hands grasp at his thighs. (Or are they paws? Whatever. As long as they treat him real good tonight.)

Tracing the tip of a claw down his inner thigh, you watch him shudder, eyes widening as you get closer to his drooling cock.

“What? Already so turned on by me hunting you down and a little grinding?” You tease and a heat rises to his face, retorting, “Shut up.”

You bury your face closer in, snuffling as you lave a rough warm stripe against the underside of his length, the taste of his precum on your tongue. His legs clamp down slightly on your head when you do so and it’s apparent that he’s enjoying your attention on him. Almost as if he wants you to devour him whole.

Changing tactics, you shift your focus to enveloping the underside with your tongue before taking him into your mouth, careful to watch your teeth. The heat engulfing him has Wriothesley groaning loudly, his hips bucking into the warmth as his restraint starts to slip.

“Mffph… so good-!” He throws an arm over his eyes, more clipped moans escaping him while you swirl your tongue, working him to his peak.

But just when he’s about to tip over the edge, you let him out of your mouth, panting as he watches a thick strand of saliva stretch from your tongue to the tip of his dick.

“Hah… Why did you stop?” Sitting up on his elbows and supporting a frustrated scowl on his face, he looks laughably similar to a kicked puppy.

“Patience, dear Wrio, you’ll get your recompensation in due time.”

Moving one hand to his cock, you pump up and down languidly, aided by the copious amounts of precum and spit. His head spins when he feels you tonguing and lapping at his balls, your hot breath hitting the sensitive skin there.

You dip further down to lick at his rim, peering up to observe his reaction. And it’s amusing. His hands fly to grab at your shoulders, eyes shot open as his chest heaves.

“You liked that?” When he nods, that’s all you need to continue.

Manoeuvring him and hiking his hips up, he yelps at the shift but it quickly tapers into a moan as you press your tongue flat against his rim. You don’t stop stroking his cock as you slowly breach his hole, gingerly prying him open. Wriothesley sucks in a sharp breath at this and grinds down on your thick tongue, forcing it deeper, the pleasure in him building and spiking.

It’s not long before he’s spurting onto his tummy with a drawn out moan, walls clenching down on you and his hips stuttering up with his orgasm. Detaching for a second, you lick a long way up from the base of his dick to his dripping tip and his heaving abdomen, collecting his cum on your tongue.

“Open your mouth, Wrio.” And when he complies, you let your tongue hang out of your maw, a mixture of his cum and his saliva sloppily dripping from you and into his mouth. The ravenous look he gets when he swallows sends a shiver down his spine.

“So good for me, Wrio. Let’s move on shall we?” You give him a sly lick on his cheek. “Can you loosen yourself up a bit more? Wouldn’t want to rip you apart when you take me.”

After coating his fingers in your slick spit, you watch as he preps himself for you. Gazing around, you spy your bag discarded to the side on the ground. 

“Aww Wrio, were you trying to bring me my bag I left?”

“Mmph yeah-! I was worried- ah! -about you,” he grunts out his answer.

You respond with a low pleased rumble, stalking over to your bag and rifling through it to find what you’re looking for. From it, you retrieve a set of a collar with a leash and an accompanying muzzle. To Wriothesley’s surprise, it’s in his colours, complimenting shades of reds and greys.

“I bought it impulsively earlier today, thought of you while doing so. I think I’m in some sort of a rut,” you explain lowly, your eyes level with his and he feels as if he could be consumed with your gaze alone. 

Licking the shell of his ear, he can feel your breath fan across his nape as you continue, “Because of you, Wrio, no doubt.”

“Put it on me then,” there’s no hesitation in his voice when he says this and a satisfaction fills him when he sees your tail start wagging.

Carefully, you latch the collar around his neck, making sure it’s comfortable for him before moving on to fixing the muzzle on him. Finally, you attach the leash, the clip sound completing the set. 

As you take in how utterly delectable your Wrio looks for you right now, a filthy sense of pride rises up within you. You, a beast, managing to twist and warp and transform your human’s visage into one akin to yours, to have him leashed and muzzled as if he were the one with piercing canine fangs and a monstrous secret. And that he doesn’t cower or tremble with fear when pinned beneath you. It’s all too deliciously sinful.

The end of the leash is held in your claws as you eye him down. You manhandle him onto his fours and you line the tip of your cock at his hole. 

“I’ll take it slow, tell me if it hurts,” your head presses against his rim as it gradually pries him open, the wind is punched from his chest at your thick girth. Slowly sinking into him, Wriothesley’s vision spins as you split him open on your cock, the stretch an intoxicating one that has him wanting more. 

When your tip nudges against his prostate, he’s left seeing stars, a debauched moan slipping from his lips.

“Ughk!? Is it- hah! -is it all in?” You shush him, ghosting your claws on the skin above his arched spines.

“Just a bit more, you can take it, can’t you, Wrio?” An uncharacteristic whine rips from him when you finally bottom out in him, flush against the back of his thighs as you reach unfathomably deep in him.

You give him time to adjust to your size before you start moving, setting a relaxed pace to begin with. He squeezes down on your cock as you roll your hips, unrestrained noises escaping him as all sense is fucked from his mind. 

Picking up the intensity, you pull out halfway before slamming back into him, positioning your tip directly at where his prostate is while tugging on the leash.

“Hngk-! So big- AH! Fuck!” Wriothesley’s eyes roll back into his head, mouth hanging open.

Your repeated motions have him going crazy, his arms wobbling at the brutal onslaught of pleasure before giving out, the only things keeping him up are the knees folded under him and your hand clamping around the side of his hip.

Seconds blur into minutes and he doesn’t even know when you’ve started pounding relentlessly into him. Your thick shaft drags against his walls and he can feel every vein and twitch of your cock. 

Sensing you pulling on the leash, he turns and looks up at you, letting you see the drool dripping from his parted lips in the muzzle, his eyes unfocused and glazed over with nothing but raw lust. You give him a lick on his cheek, a kiss, before you fold your body over his, completely pressed against his back, pinning him beneath your massive frame.

“I’m close Wrio,” cooing into his ear again, your gravelly voice brings him back, “Want me to knot you?”

He babbles pitifully, “Uh- uh huh! AH! Yeah-! I- I want you!”

“You’re really asking for it now,” growling at his mindless pleading, you drive your cock in, a guttural howl leaving you as you climax, finally knotting your Wrio. The knot at your base stretches Wriothesley out even more and he can feel your cum filling him up inside. The searing pleasure causes him to pull taut, his back arching as he orgasms again, moaning as he tightens up around you, milking you for all you’re worth. 

The forest clearing is filled with the sounds of the both of you panting as you recover, checking in with Wriothesley to assure that he’s alright. While you wait for your knot to go down, you take the time to free him from the muzzle. The second you do, he leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your snout, a lazy grin hanging from his face.

“Hah… I think you’ve made it up to me,” a glint in his eyes, “Another round next week?”

[> You add a muzzle, collar, and leash set to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

[whorechives]

i'm not really into genshin, but wriothesley is doing things to me.

imagine having him on his knees, a mix of embarrassment and a bit of annoyance on his flushed face. every time you tug on the leash attached to his pretty collar, he can't help but groan quietly.

wrio is reluctant to follow orders at first, but does so after a bit of teasing and promise of a reward. also, he may not look it, but he loves to be called a good boy or getting any kind of praise for doing as he's told. the words will go straight to his cock and oh- suddenly he's a bit more willing to listen, now!

he hates how much your words affect him though lol.

pet him. he adores having you run your fingers through his hair while he's servicing you. if you decide to pull his hair, don't pull too hard. <3

his character design is making my mild petplay kink go crazy. i'm actually going insane.

[missalt27]

every time I see Wriothesley I want him to cockwarm me while I suck his milk off his tits.

And Pregnant Sex with him would go crazy. Cumming into his ass instead of his pussy cause he’s scared. Seeing his double Ds bounce as I fuck him. Shit.

[stardustsorbet]

ok but like Wriothesley though. I wanna pound him with my strap and make him call me master thoughhhhh. What's your thoughts about Wriothesley?

Anon please never stop dumping your brilliant thoughts in my asks. This beautiful anon right here, let them be an inspiration to you all. Feed me your dirty thoughts about these gorgeous, submissive men. He’d do it, too! He’s your pretty sub and you’re his gorgeous master <3

I feel like he’s super vanilla, like boring vanilla. (At first!!) Missionary, cream inside you, kiss you until you reach your own orgasm and call it a night. But, of course, we’re all sexual fiends and wanna ruin him bcs he’s just sooo pretty </3.

He definitely is okay with trying new things out with you, but pegging? Scared the life out of him. You had to be really gentle at first, no degrading words, just slowly guiding him through it all. After a while, it became clear who really had a deviant nature. He brings home his pair of handcuffs and of course, expects you to use them, pulling his hands back as you pound into his ass.

He’s not used to being beat up on, we can assume he’s a pretty tough guy, right? But grab his hair and pull it, gag him with your fingers, choke him, tie him up and restrain him, spank his ass and watch the skin become reddened in the shape of your hand. He’ll let you do it all because it feels absolutely amazing. <3

Please do take good care of him during aftercare, he’s bound to be sore because man, does he like it rough. Like, bed creaking, perhaps bed breaking type of rough..