#that will literally ram into him at full force for a while

[kay9leo]

Siblings' judgement

When MC's siblings were asked what was the most interesting thing that happened to them in the summer when they went back to school, it was watching Sebastian navigate NYC when he went to visit them in New York. These are their drawings:

MC/Iñaki's little sister, Grace and her Drawing:

MC/Iñaki's little brother, Ricky and his drawing:

Meet Grace and Ricky, MC's younger Irish/Catholic siblings. They met Sebastian a few times before and know what he's like and found it rather amusing seeing him almost die (in their words) by nearly getting hit by bicyclists and runners right when they are about to cross the street. The only reason he hasn't gotten hurt yet is because Iñaki pulls him back right at the last second since she has a 6th sense about these things as Sebastian's life flashes before his life as he see the bicyclists and runners zoom right pass him.

While both younger siblings know that Sebastian isn't Iñaki's boyfriend...they do question their closeness. Especially when they notice Sebastian's cheeks blush when Iñaki is holding his hand the entire time they are in Manhattan.

I like to think that in Sebastian's subconscious (and in Ricky's observation), he thinks Iñaki is holding his hand because she likes him. Meanwhile, Iñaki is holding his hand the entire time so he won't get lost in the crowd of people and to be his guide on when to cross the street/jaywalk.

(Did I draw this because I pulled what Iñaki did in preventing a loved one from being hit by a bike/runner/scooter and held hands/arms to not lose them in the crowd? Yes. Yes I did.)

I would like to imagine this took place during the summer between 4th and 5th year for Iñaki. She and her family went back home to New York for a bit and Sebastian was able to visit them.

Her family took him out to Manhattan. Needless to say, navigating the city is a completely different beast to navigating Hogsmeade and Sebastian hasn't been to any major city since Solomon became his and Anne's guardian after his parents died. So he has no city navigation survival skills. Especially in the muggle world as a pureblood.

(I would like to think that it was either her parents who bought him a round trip ticket for a week since he seemed so interested in knowing what NYC or it was Ominis who used his money to help him get a ticket; partly since Ominis knows that Sebastian and Solomon bump heads often -more so since Anne got cursed- and wants to keep him out of his own household for his safety and mental health and partly to sort of guide Sebastian away from the Dark Arts and see if he can find some knowledge in the States that Sebastian hasn't been able to find at Hogwarts).

...

And both Grace and Ricky couldn't spell correctly for that day since they were sleep deprived. They literally arrived to London hours before their first day of school because their airline had canceled the family's flight at the last minute and rescheduled it for them to return a lot later than expected. While Grace and Ricky went to school sleep deprived, Iñaki completely missed taking the Hogwarts Express and arrived at school on the 2nd since they had to wait for Professor Fig to take her once he got their owl.

All three siblings really had a rough 1st week due to being jet legged XD

...

More about Iñaki "MC" Martinez Cariaga

[gojosconsort]

AAAAA OMGGG

Plsss more of feral/freak Nanami and innocent/oblivious wife! I beg you 🙏🙏🙏

“did i gain weight or something?” you muse, voice chipper and light, twisting around to peer at yourself in the reflection of the glass cabinet. you’re holding a pair of jeans—those tight ones he secretly prays you’ll wear every damn day—yanking them up over your hips. they snag, too tight, and you hop, tugging. your ass jiggles, soft and full, straining against the denim and rippling with every bounce, and HUSBAND!KENTO’S coffee mug freezes midair. his jaw locks, teeth grinding so loud he swears you should hear it.

“these used to fit,” you pout, frowning as you shimmy them higher, bending slightly to wrestle the fabric. the jeans inch up, but barely, hugging every curve too tight, and that bounce—fuck, that bounce—sends a jolt straight through him. his eyes lock on it, feral and unblinking and he bites the inside of his cheek, hoping the sting will snap him back but he can only imagine sinking his teeth into that ass, marking you, claiming you, pounding you into the counter ‘til you’re a drooling mess.

“they look fine,” he grits out, voice like gravel, low enough that you don’t catch the edge. you turn to face him, still wrestling the zipper, and the way your tits bounces with the effort makes his slacks tighten painfully and a faint dampness begins to prick at the fabric. he shifts in his seat, the chair groaning under him, and sets the mug down with a hard thud, splintering the handle, and he doesn’t blink.

“fine?” you laugh, oblivious, spinning to give him a view of the back. “kento, they’re literally cutting me in half!” you wiggle again, testing the fit, and he swears he sees every ripple of your ass in slow motion. his control frays, thread by thread, and he’s picturing it: hands sinking into that plump ass, fucking you right there, ramming into you from behind ‘til the cabinets rattle and you’re dripping with his cum.

“you look… good,” he manages, the words clipped, barely civil. suddenly his tie feels like a noose, and he yanks at it, loosening the knot as he fights the urge to tie you up with it, wrap it around your wrists, arms pinned behind you while he knots it into your skin, leaving red marks he’d lick later. he shifts his weight again, thighs flexing, trying to will it down, but the sight of you in those jeans already has heat pooling low, threatening to spill over if he doesn’t get a grip.

you beam at him, all sweet. “good? well, that’s a relief,” you say, finally getting the jeans zipped, though they hug you like a second skin. you smooth your hands over your hips, turning side to side, and he tracks every movement. “i was worried i’d have to toss these. they’re my favorite.” and his too.

“keep them,” he says, too fast, too rough, standing abruptly. the chair scrapes back, loud, and he stalks toward the sink, dumping the rest of his coffee to give his hands something other to do than to pin you down and fuck into you like an animal. he’s losing it—really losing it—and you don’t even notice, chattering on about your day like he’s not two seconds from gagging you with his cock, stuffing you ‘til your throat’s full.

“—and then i’ve got that meeting at noon, but i’ll be home early,” you’re saying, stepping closer to grab an apple from the bowl. you brush past him, hip grazing his thigh, and he exhales hard through his nose, gripping the sink’s edge until his fingers ache. your scent hits him, floral and clean, and he’s feral, imagining fisting your hair, yanking your head back, fucking you hard and fast.

“kento?” you pause, apple halfway to your mouth, tilting your head up at him. “you okay? you’re all… tense.” your eyes are wide, soft, and he wants to ruin you—mark that pretty throat, choke you with his fingers, fuck you ‘til those pretty lips can’t form words anymore.

“just—” he clears his throat, stepping back, forcing distance. “long night.” a lie, weak, but you nod, accepting it like always. he adjusts his glasses, hands shaking slightly, and turns away, pretending to rinse the mug. his slacks cling to him, the wet spot dark against his thigh, precum soaking through the fabric as his cock throbs, painfully hard, leaking with every jiggle of your ass he can’t unsee.

he shifts, trying to hide it, but the friction only makes it worse—his balls ache, tight and heavy, and he bites back a groan, imagining unloading inside you, painting your insides until you’re dripping with him. the sink’s cold edge digs into his palms as he grips it, desperate to keep from yanking his pants down and fucking you right there.

“finish getting ready,” he says, voice tight, controlled by a thread. “i’ll drive you.” he doesn’t trust himself to stay here, not with you prancing around like that, all innocent and ripe for the taking. you smile, oblivious, and bounce off toward the bedroom, ass jiggling one last time as you go. he watches, jaw flexing, and knows—he’s not making it through the day.

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ part one ♡ masterlist

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!daniel ricciardo ; dom!mick schumacher ; dom!charles leclerc x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, spitting, hair pulling, dacryphilia, blowjob, mention of gagging, size kink, dumbification

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +60 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

thinking about how the f1 grid would simply use you as a stress relief, as a simple fucktoy they can use whenever and wherever they want.

Carlos — for an example — coincidentally saw you walking around in the paddock after a bad qualifying and immediately snatched you by your tiny wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, throwing your smaller frame into one of the stalls before he lifted your skirt and pushed your thong to the side, quickly freeing himself and ramming his entire length into you without any warning, forcing a high pitched gasp out of you.

“Oh my g-god, Carlos!” You loudly whined before he covered your mouth with his big palm, other hand pushing your hips a bit forward so he could probably bend your body however he pleased, making your ass perfectly stick out for him to fuck.

He groaned behind you as you felt his hand squeezing your hip, abdomen already slapping against your back while you choked on your sobs behind his hand.

“Oh f-fuck,” he dropped his forehead against the back of your head as the pace of his hips went up, making you roll your eyes into the back of your head, “fuck that stupid race this weekend, I’ll just tell Ferrari I’m sick and fuck you the whole Sunday until you're so cockdumb that you don’t even want to leave my hotel room anymore, zorra,” slut.

Or how Daniel would immediately look for you after a good qualifying, asking everybody if they had seen you.

“Where’s she?” He hastily asked Pierre who just pointed towards the Mercedes garage. Without even thanking Pierre, Daniel entered the garage and intertwined your hand with his as soon as he saw you, quickly dragging your towards the Mercedes hospitality since that was the closest room.

Only a couple of minutes later you were already bend over one of the small beds, skirt lifted up so your ass was on full display while Daniel's finger played with your wet pussy from behind.

“D-Daniel, please!” You begged in a whiny tone, making him chuckle, “Please what, little one? You have to tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” he kissed your shoulder blade before he focused his eyes on his two fingers and how they were rubbing your clit before he shoved them slowly into you, making your head fall forward.

“Oh no, no, no baby,” he laughed deeply, “you stay here while I play with you,” he harshly grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled your head back up, making you groan as he continued fingering your wet cunt.

Or how mick would not hesitate to harshly knock on your hotel room after a bad race.

“Y/n, open the door for me, please,” he would ask you, making you open the door before he would literally pick your barely covered body — since you were only in pyjamas — up and throw you onto the couch, not even bothering to go to the bedroom.

Without a second thought, he’d have your shorts and panties already removed, briefly gliding his hard and long dick up and down your pussy before he spit on it, rubbing his spit with his fingers all over your needy cunt.

He’d definitely make you watch as he entered you, placing his big hand onto the back of your head and force you to watch him enter your pretty pussy.

“You feel me inside of you, pretty girl? Hmm? You feel me stretching that poor little cunt of yours out and using it?” He’d ask you while you just dumbly nodded, “don’t play so dumb alr-” but quickly stopping his own sentence while the fingertips of his other hand rubbed your puffy clit,

“Oh you really are already dumb, baby?! But that’s okay, you’re my pretty little dumb girl, hmm? Yeah, that’s right, my dumb princess.”

Or how Charles would without a word drag you towards his drivers room after he won a race, loudly slamming the door shut before he’d remove his racing suit and pull his long erection out,

“On your knees, right now.”

And while you’re busy sucking his cock, he’d be so cocky, “Don’t you wanna pleasure the winner of the day, huh? Don’t you wanna be a good little obedient girl and satisfy the man of the race?” He’d place his hand onto the back of your head and force you to gag on his cock, making tears stain your cheeks.

“Just like that, can we go even further? Even further? Fuck yes we can, baby, you’re doing so good for the winner,” he’d praise you while he wiped some of your tears away, other hand fisting your hair and guiding your head.

[blasphemyandbackshots]

Please please please PLEASEEE write something with hizashi I'm starved of content for my loud annoying man PLEASE. I'll also take something with all might BUT MAKE HIM A FREAK PLEASE freak might. That man was the #1 you can't tell me he didn't fuck.

please note, that this is an extreme size kink fantasy. including belly bulging and a lot of inches from the symbol of freedom

ღ all might x you —hero worship & belly bulges

You’d dreamt about this moment a thousand times. Every time he smiled at the camera, every time he called a villain ‘evil-doer’ and landed a punch that split the sky, you thought about what it’d feel like to be touched by him. Saved by him. Ruined by him.

You should’ve known he’d be this big. He’s All Might. The All Might. The man whose very presence crushes villains and ignites hope like fire. Seven feet of power, of impossible muscle, of that never-fading smile. But nothing prepared you for what was waiting under that hero suit.

His cock was, god, it was massive. Not just long, but thick and heavy. It was slapping up against his abs as he stripped for you, cocky and hungry like he’d been waiting to show you his real power all night.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” he teased, cupping your jaw as your eyes stayed locked on it. “You’ve watched me your whole life, haven’t you? Dreamed of this? Now’s your chance. Serve your hero.”

And you tried. You really did. But he barely pushed in and it already felt like your insides were folding around him. He was too deep, too wide, your walls clenching like they were confused, overwhelmed, begging for mercy.

“T-Toshi—wait—ah, f-fuck—it’s too—!”

But he only groaned, dropping his forehead to yours like the sound of your pain fed him.“Don’t say that,” he breathed, voice trembling as he pushed in another inch. “You can take it. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

Your stomach bulged with the shape of him. You could feel it, literally feel it, pressing inside you like a blunt fist, stretching you open in places no one should reach. And he saw it.

“Look,” he rasped, grabbing your wrist, guiding your hand to your lower belly where the outline of him pressed faintly under your skin. “That’s me. Deep in my pretty little fangirl’s guts.”

He bottomed out with a growl that rattled your teeth. And slammed into your cervix like he wanted to break something and you screamed.

“There it is,” he moaned. “Kissed your cervix. Felt that? That jolt? That’s your womb saying hi to me.”

He pulled back, slow and cruel, dragging along your raw walls and then rammed back in hard, making your toes curl and your vision blur. Over. And over. And over. And every time your belly bulged, he lost his mind just a little more.

“Fuck, look at it. You’re made for me. Can’t believe I waited this long. I should’ve bent you over the first time you called me your hero.”

He said it while holding you folded in half, pounding into you with so much force the bed slammed into the wall. You were drooling. Crying. Legs numb. Mind gone. Fucked dumb.

All Might just smiled, like a man drunk on devotion. “You’re gonna take every inch. Every time. I don’t care if it’s too big, baby. You’re mine now. And I’m not stopping ‘til you’re so full you forget your own damn name.”

What you could give All Might credit for was that he gave you a break. He’d given you the sweetest aftercare. Bought expensive bathing salts. Soaps. Ointment. A spa weekend. But you knew he only prepared you for the next time, when he sent you another invite to an expensive hotel room.

His thighs were so wide your knees didn’t touch the bed. You had to brace yourself just to lower down onto him again, your palms flat on his flexed quads, your thighs already shaking as you whimpered.

“Tosh—Toshi—s-slow, I can’t—”

“You can,” he muttered, low and filthy behind you, his voice was nothing like the man the public worshipped. “You will. Look at you. Look what I’m doing to you.”

And then you saw it. The full-length mirror on the opposite wall angled just right. You saw everything. You, on his lap in reverse cowgirl. Your body trembling, sweat shining down your chest, tits bouncing slightly with every breath. And then his cock, buried to the hilt inside you, stretching you open so wide it looked impossible. Obscene.

Your belly bulged with the imprint of him. And All Might? He was watching it with an expression like he wanted to devour you whole.

“Beautiful,” he growled, his huge hands running down your waist to your hips, gripping tight. “So fuckin’ full. That’s your stomach, sweetheart. That’s me. In your guts.”

He grinded his hips up, slow, just to see your mouth fall open in the mirror. Just to watch your breath hitch and your cunt clench helplessly around him.

“You’re leaking down my cock. Can you see that? You’re dripping, even now. Even with this big fuckin’ thing tearing you in half.”

You whimpered, fingers digging into his thighs for stability.

“Every inch, baby,” he whispered, leaning forward, lips at your ear. “You’re takin’ every inch like a good little civilian. So brave. So desperate to make your hero proud.”

Then he snapped his hips up, slamming into your cervix and you screamed. Your vision went white for a second.

“That’s it,” he moaned, panting now. “Right there. You feel that? That’s me kissing your womb. Claiming it. You wanted this. You begged for it. And now you’re gonna take every drop.”

He let one massive hand slide up your stomach, palm pressing right over the bulge.

“You see this, sweetheart?” he hissed, dark and reverent. “That’s proof no one else’ll ever fuck you like I do. You’re ruined. Mine. My number one girl.”

He made you watch. Made you ride him until your thighs gave out, until your head lolled back against his shoulder and he had to fuck up into you. He was using your limp body like a fleshlight with praise on his tongue.

“So tight. So soft. Gonna fill you up so deep it won’t come out.”

And when he did? You saw it. That slight swell in your lower belly, the way your cunt fluttered. You collapsed forward, gasping and twitching and moaning his name over and over. All while he just sat back, a proud, unhinged smile on his face, still hard inside you, watching it all through the mirror.

“That’s my girl.”

[who-can-touch-my-boob]

<- Sanemi simp posts masterlist

It’s your fault

Sanemi x f!reader smut

AN: yeah so, just wrote this on a whim after getting home from work. Not proofread and just an excuse to write some smut. Yeah, it’s literally just fucking in this. Good luck.

Now how did you even end up here?

A question you keep asking yourself as your teeth sink into the skin of your tightly clenched fist. The same fist that’s currently the only thing stopping you from being smashed into the only thing keeping you grounded.

How indeed?

Your vision is clouded, tears glistening in your eyes, threatening to spill down your flushed cheeks.

With each thrust, your body is forcefully pushed into the rough, moss-covered stone. Apart from your heavy breaths, occasionally disrupted by gasps and moans from both of you—the only sound heard in the quiet forest is skin slapping against skin.

“Fuck.”

His low, growling hiss of pleasure is only a breath away from your ear. Lips grazing against your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine, causing you to instinctively tighten around him.

Sanemi groans approvingly as he feels you clamp around him, egging him on—pounding into you harder.

“Hmph…Sanemi.”

Your voice is shaky, just a heavy breath that’s barely audible as you moan again, louder than you intended to.

He can hear the plea in your tone, Sanemi knows exactly what you want. He leans down, still deeply buried inside your tight flesh, his muscular chest pressing against your back.

The fist you’d been biting into, the one keeping you steady wavers as his weight forces you down. You clutch onto the boulder, your cheek cushioned by a thin layer of moss as you make eye contact.

One minute you had been arguing, harsh words exchanged after a particular rough battle with a demon. Barely able to succeed, you both had turned to the other to blame.

However, the argument had quickly ended the moment you’d said those provocative or maybe inviting two words to him.

“Make me.”

If there’s one thing Sanemi knows, it’s to get his way.

And you didn’t protest one bit when he’s crashed his lips against yours, his big hands gripping you by the waist. You’d kissed him back immediately, hungrily and filled with need.

Gods, who would have thought the Wind Hashira could kiss like that. Even if he’s rough and harsh—the way his lips captured yours, his tongue uncharacteristically exploring flipped a switch inside you.

All that built up anger, frustration and need exploded.

In the middle of a desolated forest, both sweaty, bloodied and exhausted, you find yourself lost in the moment. In each other.

From kissing passionately, hands exploring eagerly, grinding against each other, you’re now standing with your ass out, clutching onto a boulder for dear life while Sanemi is ramming it into you at a rapid pace.

With your hakama and underwear pooling around your ankles and Sanemi only unbuckled his pants and pulling them down just enough for his throbbing, needy cock to be free, you’d quickly gone from arguing to full blown fucking.

“Y’ close?”

He grunts between pants. Despite thrusting into you like a beast, he still wants to make sure you’re feeling good.

Nodding in response, unable to form a coherent sentence, you roll your hips and meet his thrust. He’s so big, thick, reaching places you never knew existed. However despite your reply, Sanemi is not fully convinced.

“Oh!”

You gasp, eyes rolling back and lips parting in surprise when his finger finds your clit. From the corner of your eye, cheek buried into the surface, you notice a smirk. He looks almost smug by your response.

“That’s more like it.”

He breathes hoarsely, burying his face into your neck as he fucks you faster and harder, enjoying how you squeeze him and squirm as the rough pad of his finger rubs your swollen clit in unison.

You’re so close. Mind in a daze, fingers clawing at the rock, body writhing in what can only be considered pure bliss as the heat in your lower stomach builds up.

“Sanemi…feel’s good.”

He pulls out just enough for the tip to stay in, letting, sighing heavily, Sanemi tries his best to not cum too soon. Unable to hold back a whine at the sudden emptiness. Even if his finger still moving vigorously on your clit, you need him inside you, all of him.

With one swift movement you push your hips back, taking his length in one fell swoop. Sanemi’s breath catches in his throat and it takes every bit of self control to not fill you up right then and there.

“What the hell, woman?”

He groans, his deep voice cracks and you can hear the barely restrained hunger in it.

“Gonna be the fucking end of me…”

Your triumphant smile at his reaction is quickly wiped off as retaliates, finger going faster, his hips slamming into you, stretching and hitting so deep you swear you can feel him in your navel.

It’s too much. The sensation of him, his voice, his chest heavy on your back, the heat building inside you explodes.

No longer holding back, you let out moan after moan of unabashed pleasure as you find your release. His name rolls off your tongue over and over, like a prayer in his ears. Sanemi doesn’t stop, he wants to make sure you’re only a puddle of pleasure when he’s done with you.

After reaching climax, your body hot and sensitive, but unable to catch a break as he fucks you relentlessly.

Whatever sounds you make as he pumps into you is neither words or any sounds you’d heard yourself make before. Only babbles and whimpers of pleasure as you take him, milking him as he spills his seed inside you.

Sanemi moans, he moans your name, praising you as both his hands grab your hips, his strength easily lifting you up as he uses you as his own little fucktoy.

Another one? You can’t even tell anymore. Head’s so scrambled and you’re too lost in a blissful daze to even comprehend the rush of ecstasy going through you once more.

He’s still inside you as he slumps down, half heartedly supporting some of his weight with his elbow on each side of your head. You can feel his heart pounding against your shoulder blade, his breath warm and tickling the back of your neck.

“By the way,”

Sanemi murmurs under his breath, a flicker of playfulness in his tone as he speaks.

“Still your fault, but I forgive you if you promise to have dinner with me once we’re back home.”

Your heart flutters at the way his usually gruff voice softens. With a soft chuckle and a raised eyebrow you can’t help but turn your head just enough to peck him on the cheek.

“It’s a date.”

[thedarkestrivernymph]

can we have more of the death yanders kidnapper fic? I really wanna see our life with him

A normal day in your life..

Y! Kidnapper x f! Reader

warnings: forced infantilization, religious themes, mentions of urine, diaper, baby-talk, forced feeding

the fic -> Death

“You have to.”

“No!” you're as stubborn as a petulant child, “I don't want to.” your voice thins until it wavers and you break into yet another sob.

“Sweetheart,” there's another groan before a warm hand brushes over your scalp, scratching up and down your nape as if you're a cat, “You have to eat, sweetie, if you don't, you know what will happen, won't you?”

There's a thickness that swells in your throat, just the thought of doing that ever again is enough to make your palms sweaty and feet itching to run.

“See?” his voice his smug, while his predatory gaze flicks with recognition of weakness. Of your weakness.

“You don't want to be down there again, right baby? I don't want to chain you up, you get all horribly bruised up.” he sighs softly, deeply with new-found hunger in his chestnut colored eyes. He talks soft and sickeningly sweet, as if his mouth had a mind of its own, apart from the actual ravenous beast inside of him that you have come to know so well. “I would hate for your delicate skin to be blemished.”

Another kiss is presses to your forehead, before he lowers his hand to trace over the pendant with his name engraved hanging from your collar. “Say ‘ahh’.” he urges again, lowering his hand to sit at the curve of your waist, keeping you firmly planted on his lap, dressed in unnecessary frill—like a doll. Like you’re his doll. This fucking creep.

The spoon lifts once again and its contents twist your stomach for the second time.

The spoonful is weirdly pink and brown with colorful sprinkles grinded into it. It is clear that it once was cake but now it is this weird odd paste that he, no doubt, put in the mixer because quote “you’re just a baby, babies don't eat real food”.

Yet this time when he seeks entrance, tapping against your bottom lip you open up with tearful eye, allowing the tooth-rootingly sweet to flood your taste buds. Swallowing is even more difficult as his hand creeps up to settle over your sternum, pressing, waiting to feel your throat bob.

“Good girl” you cry at his praise, because an entire bowl full of this slob is staringback at you.

“If you eat up maybe I’ll even let you play with your dolls again, mh?” there's another wave of nausea, as your lungs constrict and your airways tighten, but this time not because of the prospect of punishment if you disobey, but because of the pressure in your lower abdomen.

It's already worse enough that you have to piss literally every two minutes because of how fucking anxious he makes you, is him taking notice of the building pressure in your bladder.

“Sweetheart, oh? Do you have to go potty again?”

he’s so fucking condescending in his speech, so proud about having reduced you to this, that his smile stretches unsettling wide, inhuman, animalistic, vile—in another universe you hope he's a pig brought to slaughter.

You would rather die than pee into the diaper he put you on in front of him, worse, on him.

But suddenly he cups your tummy with one large hand, rubbing and pressing against it. “Come, you can go here.” your face drains of colour again as you grit your teeth, shaking your head in a firm ‘no’. You would rather die of shame then do that.

But he doesn't take no as an answer, he never does. Because you're his, god-given and all, remember? So he starts messaging your stomach, reaching beneath the layers upon layers of frilly blue to reach your navel and ram his grimy fingers into your flesh.

You cry out, jerk around. You may have lost your dignity, you may be kept like an animal but you won't allow this, no, you're still an adult, you're not a child nor an infant, you're capable of controlling your bladder no matter what—

There's something hot. Sticky and fluid. And as you ruin your diaper you, the realisation of what you just did settling in—the betrayal of your body, you cannot help but sob loder, cry, hiccup and mewl, babbling without coherent sentences as your face burns in shame.

And what does he do?

He grins. As always.

“Good job, Sweetheart.” he pressed his lips to your cheek, before he scoops another spoonful from the bowel and raises the the cool silverware to your mouth again.

“Come now finish, then we can get you all cleaned up.” so you do just that, allow him to fed you this sticky repulsing mess, that makes you gag with each swallow, because what else can you do?

And it isn't long before his face dips into your shoulder and he whispers into your skin the very same set of words he's chanted to you since you have awoken to yet another nightmare.

“I love you, sweetheart, so so much. You're my everything, and soon you'll make me the happiest man on earth. God! I am so excited, I can't wait to meet our little one.”

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

[crowsofdarkness]

Hate fucking with Eric.

18+ CW’s below the cut(unprotected pinv, oral with male receiving, Eric having a pierced cock, use of a zap wand, and language.)

“Lie all you want, little crow. But your pussy says otherwise,” Eric snarls before slipping out from behind me.

Throwing me onto my back on his bed, I glanced up at his cock that was now in front of my face, soaked with my arousal. His dark eyes pinned me in place but the defiance in me didn’t back down; my now empty cunt made the anger rise.

“Fuck you, Draven.” I spat.

Something sinister sparkled in those eyes as he held my head up with a bruising grip to my scalp, forcing my lips to the head of his cock. Leaking and slick with both of our shared arousals.

The piercing he had straight through the head of his cock always made something ignite inside of me. It added so much extra pleasure each and every time.

“You say you hate me but you soaked my cock. Your cunt was crying for it. Saying things these pretty lips can’t. The same lips I’m about to fuck until your crying for more.”

How the fuck did I find myself in this position? Literally and figuratively.

Again.

Eric and I had a very complicated relationship. We lived in the same run down loft complex in downtown Detroit. He lived next door to me and it had been a nightmare watching him bring home woman after woman, their fake cries of pleasure keeping me up at night. I’d brought it up to Eric a few times, as respectful as I could.

“Hey could you maybe tell your guests to keep it down, please? The walls are really thin.”

At first Eric was apologetic but when it continued to happen, I was anything but nice.

“Maybe if you could actually please a woman she wouldn’t have to scream those pathetic fake cries just so you can get off.”

Eric did not like that so he made it his mission to prove he can pleasure a woman. But not just any woman.

Me.

Every once in a while we found ourselves in bed together, just a quick fuck. And as much as I hate to admit it, he could definitely pleasure his partners. But I never said it out loud, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Say it, crow,” Eric grunted now, dragging the head of his cock over my lips. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

My eyes sliced up into him as he continued to tower over me, his tattoos glistening with sweat.

“Fuck you, Draven,” I repeated my words from earlier.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and smacked my cheek. “Wrong answer. Now, open up.”

Don’t do it. Don’t you fucking do it, do you hear me? Don’t give him the satisfacti-.

Parting my lips, I took his entire length deep in my throat and I hummed when not only his taste but mine stained my tongue. Eric let out a rumbling noise deep within his chest and began fucking my throat with no regard to how hard his thrusts were. He didn’t care, he wanted to punish me for defying him.

“So warm. So good. You always take my cock so well, little crow,” Eric praised.

Every time he praised me, as much as I wanted to deny it, I found myself soaring. I wanted to please him, to give him whatever he wanted.

“Such a pretty little thing taking my cock so well. Every one of your holes were made for me. And I won’t stop until I claim every single one.”

Eric reached for his phone to snap a few pictures of his cock ramming my throat and the look of ecstasy on his face when I swirling my tongue over the piercing made me moan around him.

My hand began to slip between my legs to touch my clit but he must have noticed because his hand that wasn’t hurting in my hair grabbed both of my hands to pin them above my head on the mattress.

“Did I fucking say you could touch your cunt?” Eric seethed, halting his thrusts in my throat.

Mouth full of his cock, I did the best I could to shake my head.

Now his thrusts were languid, almost as if I couldn’t feel him. But I could. The piercing on the head of his cock scraping along the inside of my mouth. I scratched at his thighs, hoping he would get my silent cue to go faster. I wanted him to go faster. I needed him to make me choke on his beautiful cock to the point tears would stream down my face.

Eric ignored me instead, reached for something he had hidden underneath his pillow. A tool I’d grown quite familiar with.

The sound of static filled the air and my body froze underneath him just as he held his cock so far deep down my throat I could barely breathe .

“You continue to defy me, little crow,” Eric said, twirling the zap wand between his fingers. “Now you know what I have to do.”

My eyes widened as my orgasm overtook me without warning when he reached back and pressed the tip of the wand against my clit, sending literal shocks throughout my body.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Can I request for an blurb?? Never requested to anyone but I have this idea!!

So like H nd reader is in a relationship but H being famous nd all so because of that media nd his fans doesn't know he is in relationship nd to hide that thing he had to do PR relationship with someone else!! Nd he doesn't acknowledge that he had being ignoring reader nd spending more time with that pr girl!! So one day H came home nd reader was crying nd saying to H "do you love me?? Nd saying please don't leave me" nd H assure her she is it nd in few months he proposed the reader by saying how she is the only girl for him nd to never doubt his love for her!!

Ahh so sorry for such a lengthy request!! Nd it's okay if you don't wanna write!!:)

words: 4k (sorry!!!)

warnings: angst, lots of it. a fake pr, crying, some smut too. happy ending.

i changed this a bit, especially the ending. hope you don't hate this!

***

"I miss you," you whispered into the dark emptiness of your bedroom, clutching Harry's pillow tight. Another restless night alone while he was off being pictured with that pretty model for their fake relationship.

When would this torment end? Your heart ached constantly from the secrecy and lies shredding your real romance with Harry. All you wanted was to be open about your love...

It had started off so blissfully a year ago when you literally crashed into Harry outside of a coffee shop. You'd been rushing out the door, distracted and clumsy as always, when you rammed straight into a solid wall of human. Your face went bright red as you scrambled to pick up your scattered belongings.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'm such a disaster, I seriously need to watch where I'm going..." you babbled, finally looking up into the kindest pair of green eyes you'd ever seen.

The man was watching you with an amused tilt to his soft lips. Something about his tousled chestnut hair and casual style felt vaguely familiar, though you couldn't quite place him. 

"No worries at all, it's my fault. Are you alright?" He asked in a deep, sumptuous voice that made you shiver.

As realization dawned, your mortified expression deepened. "Oh wow...you're...I just headbutted Harry Styles in the stomach."

He laughed easily, dimples flashing as he bent to help gather your dropped papers. "Very impressive ab attack there. Been taking self-defense classes?"

You flushed again at his playful teasing, finding yourself surprisingly flustered by this international superstar's carefree charm. Most celebrities seemed to carry an air of inflated ego, but Harry radiated a humble warmth.

"Do you, er, come to this cafe often?" He asked curiously as you both stood. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear shyly, you shook your head. "No, I don't. I was just stopping in for a coffee on my way to work."

"I see." His gem-green eyes slowly traced over your features, as if admiring a fine work of art. The intensity of his gaze sent a tendril of heated awareness washing through you.

Before you could think better of it, you blurted out the first thing on your mind. "Would you...maybe want to get coffee? With me, I mean? Right now?"

Harry's full lips curved in an amused smile. "I'd love that, actually."

You could scarcely believe this was reality as you led him back inside the cafe, trying not to visibly swoon at the casual brush of his fingertips against the small of your back. For the next hour you talked and laughed more freely than you had in ages, feeling utterly intoxicated by Harry's mere presence. Everything about him radiated authenticity and vulnerability, a creative wildness simmering beneath his polished exterior. You felt like you could be yourself with him instead of carefully cultivating persona upon persona as you did with most people.

By the time you forced yourself to reluctantly leave for work, exchanging numbers with Harry, you were positively giddy. Dancing through your day in a euphoric bubble, you hardly noticed the pitying looks from coworkers.

"You know he's just gonna ghost you, right?" Julie the receptionist said flatly when you told her about your morning coffee date. "Have you seen how many girls fall all over themselves trying to get Harry Styles' attention? You're out of your league, sweetie."

You frowned at her harsh dose of reality. As if you weren't well aware of your lack of impressiveness compared to supermodels and actresses in Harry's orbit. Still, you couldn't shake the magnetic connection you'd felt with him, the bone-deep certainty that he was someone truly special. 

Much to everyone's shock, Harry didn't ghost you. In fact, a simple text from him that evening asking how your day was led to a rapid-fire exchange of messages stretching long into the night. Over the next few weeks, your life revolved around hushed phone calls, secret rendezvous at out-of-the-way cafes and restaurants, and marathon conversations revealing every layer of one another.

Harry was purely intoxicating - a whirlwind of brooding intensity balanced with vivid spontaneity and an excellent sense of humor. He seemed utterly fascinated by every small detail you revealed about your life, respectful in a way that made him feel like a wonderful dream. And you fell harder and harder for Harry with each passing day. Something about his quiet attentiveness and insatiable curiosity about you made you feel cherished in a way you'd never experienced before. Gone were the shallow, vapid interactions you were accustomed to in the dating world. With Harry, you could truly be yourself - he somehow coaxed out your authentic self that you typically kept heavily guarded. 

At the same time, you were in absolute awe of the whirlwind of depth and experiences that defined Harry's life. His stories of touring the globe, writing deeply personal lyrics, collaborating with musical icons - they all painted a vivid portrait of an artistic soul soaring to brilliant creative heights. You drank in every glimpse into his inner world like a lifeline to another realm of existence.

Yet whenever you'd express feeling unworthy of his profound love and admiration, Harry was quick to sweetly rebuff you.

"Y/N, you dazzle me more than anything I've experienced in this mad career of mine," he insisted one evening over a cozy home-cooked meal you'd prepared. Catching your hand across the table, his green gaze pinned you in place. "Don't you see? Your warmth, your light, your way of finding detailed beauty in such seemingly ordinary moments - that's what enchants me. You make me want to shed all the superficial trappings of fame and just...be."

You felt yourself falling deeper and deeper, tumbling into an intimacy more profound than you'd ever imagined. If Harry hadn't told you himself that he'd only had a few relatively tame celebrity girlfriends in the past, you'd never have believed his immense experience from the way he worshiped you.

"So responsive, so gorgeous," he rasped against your swollen lips, calloused fingers stroking delirious patterns over your sensitized skin. "God, I could spend eternity between your legs”

Those stolen passionate encounters, tangled up and gasping one another's names with wild abandon, only added to your lovestruck infatuation. You felt deeply seen and cherished on a soul level, like you were both puzzle pieces finally slotting seamlessly together.

In the dreamy, lust-addled haze of new love, you almost didn't notice the growing tension in Harry's manner as typical relationship pressures began encroaching. Paparazzi grew increasingly aggressive in tracking his day-to-day movements whenever out in public. Well-meaning friends expressed concerns about the obvious strain he was under from lack of a romantic life in the public eye. And perhaps most troubling, his management team forcefully "suggested" it was time for him to embark on a high-profile PR romance to capitalize on album promotion and touring.

Harry had looked utterly fed up that evening when he broke the news, pacing in your living room.

You watched him apprehensively. "They want you to do...what? You mean...go along with a staged relationship? Like have a beard or something?"

"No! Absolutely not, I won't do it. I won't treat you like some secret, and I refuse to fake anything in my private life for publicity."

"Harry..." you tried to soothe him, rising to your feet and rubbing his tense shoulders. "I understand the pressures you're under-"

"No, you don't!" He rounded on you with surprising intensity. "You don't get it, Y/N. You are the best, most precious thing in my world - my safe harbor from all the bullshit fake expectations. I won't sully what we have with PR lies. I just...won't."

His words were at once incredibly romantic and terribly naive. As much as you longed to stay cocooned in the warm, intimate bubble of your relationship, you knew the real world would inevitably intrude. Harry was a public figure on a massive scale, his romantic life constantly scrutinized. For the sake of his livelihood, he might not have any choice but to bend to the publicity machine's demands.

***

Those first seeds of conflict only blossomed further over the following weeks as the PR relationship issue remained unresolved. You did your best to stay supportive and understanding, but it was a challenge keeping your own hurt and insecurities at bay.

"I just don't see what the big deal is," Harry groused one evening over a tense dinner. "So what if they want me to go out a few times with some model or actress, let the paps get pictures? It doesn't mean anything to me."

You poked at your food sullenly. "It's not that simple though, is it? Couldn't something like that, even if fake, seriously complicate things for us?"

He reached across to squeeze your hand. "Baby, you know you're the only person who matters to me. A little PR sham doesn't change how utterly mad I am about you."

But it did change things, whether Harry wanted to admit it or not. The striking difference in how he treated you, his real partner behind closed doors, compared to how he'd have to pretend with someone else for public consumption - it stung deep.

One night shortly after, you were cuddled up watching a movie when Harry's phone started incessantly buzzing. Pulling it out with a furrow in his brow, he quickly scanned a series of messages and emailed photos. An unmistakable look of chagrin crossed his face.

"What is it?" You asked, unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. "Looks like the publicity team is really pushing ahead. They've, uh, they've arranged for me to be caught having dinner with Kendall Jenner tomorrow night."

Your heart plummeted as an uneasy feeling settled over you. This was really happening - right before your eyes, your private intimacy was being infiltrated with PR lies.

"So you're...going to be going out with her? In public, on a fake date, while the whole world watches?" You tried and failed to keep the hurt out of your voice.

"Not a date!" Harry was quick to insist, shifting closer to pull you into his arms. "Y/N, you have to understand this doesn't mean anything. It's all just smoke and mirrors, love. You're my world, I promise."

You wanted so desperately to believe him. But the lingering ache still took root somewhere deep inside as you watched the paparazzi frenzy ignite over Harry's "outing" with Kendall. Photos of the two models laughing intimately over drinks and dinner plastered every gossip rag and website for weeks. 

It soon became a narrative that followed Harry everywhere - probing reporters shouting questions about whether he and Kendall were officially an item now. Rabid fans prying him online, trying to get every new shred of detail on the new, perfect couple.

"Hey, come here," Harry murmured soothingly whenever he saw the sadness and uncertainty cloud your eyes. He'd pull you into his chest, peppering kisses over your face. "I'm yours, baby, only yours. None of that bloody circus matters to me, I hope you know that."

You wanted to have his quiet confidence, truly. The way Harry could compartmentalize the fake PR relationship and his very real feelings for you with such clear separation. But it didn't stop the anxiety slowly gnawing away at your trust and security.

Increasingly, special romantic gestures from Harry felt like overcompensation for all the public affection he was faking with Kendall. When he'd surprise you with extravagant getaways to exotic locales, you couldn't fully relax into the pampering without wondering how much of it was just hiding guilt. And his constant reaffirmations of his love and devotion started ringing hollow amidst the growing circus his life was becoming.

The worst of it came at one of his first concerts after the publicity whirlwind began. You'd been so looking forward to experiencing the screaming crowds in a whole new light as Harry's actual partner, not just a casual fan. But the huge video screens kept flashing candid photos and fake couple shots of Harry holding hands and hugging Kendall, selling their phony romance to the fans.

You couldn't hold back the tears slipping down your cheeks as Harry serenaded the arena full of thousands, having no choice but to play along with the charade on the world stage. He caught your eye for just a second during the encore, and his smile instantly morphed into a look of sheer sorrow and guilt, looking at your tear-ridden face. He knew you, even if he stood so much away from you.  But there was nothing he could do then except push forward with the manufactured story.

That night after the concert, an emotional Harry fell into your arms the moment you were alone in his dressing room. He clung to you desperately, peppering apologies across your tear-stained and defeated face.

"God, Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rasped, emerald eyes awash with remorse and frustration. "Seeing you hurting like that because of this bloody sham...it killed me. You have to know how madly in love I am with only you."

You nodded, finding it hard to speak past the lump in your throat. Of course you knew, deep down, that Harry loved you wholly. His attentiveness, the intense spark of intimacy and passion between you, the emotional connection - it was all achingly real. This PR relationship was merely a toxic byproduct of his celebrity, something massively unfortunate but not defining your actual bond.

And yet...Harry couldn't deny the growing chaos enveloping his personal life. The fake romance was now Priority One to his team, staged and milked for every ounce of publicity. Constant video calls and strategy sessions mapped out each calculated move - where Harry and Kendall would stage a coffee run for the paps, when they should be papped holding hands emerging from a nightclub, how often they should update their couple-y Instagram shots together.

Harry grew increasingly sullen and withdrawn the more deeply engrossed he became in maintaining the facade. And you couldn't ignore the mounting jealousy and hurt rapidly corroding, chipping away your self-esteem and faith in the relationship.

***

"Maybe...maybe we should take a break," you finally broached one afternoon after an especially grueling set of publicity demands. Harry's head whipped up from where he was moodily going over plans for an upcoming awards show appearance.

"What? Why would you say that?" There was an edge of panic in his tone. He looked shocked, but you knew it was a long time coming.

You shrugged. "Harry, can you honestly tell me you don't resent me at all for the toll this whole – charade has taken? That some part of you doesn't wish you could just live your life freely without me holding you back from giving publicity stunts like this your full effort?"

He immediately rushed to gather you into his arms. "No! Never, Y/N. You're my world, my everything. Without you, all this would mean nothing!”

Burying your face into the strength of his shoulder, you wished you could cling to his words and find comfort there once more. But the turmoil swirling around you was rapidly becoming too overpowering.

"I'm just...I'm so tired of feeling like an afterthought, Harry. Of being the dirty little secret you have to hide away while flaunting someone else to the world. I can't keep living like this, sinking into doubt and jealousy constantly."

Harry's arms tightened around you convulsively. "Don't say that, my love. You could never be an afterthought to me. I need you here, by my side, to keep me grounded and remind me of what's truly real."

Though his words warmed your heart, you found yourself pulling back to gaze at him searchingly. "Then prove it. Enough with the grand romantic gestures, the desperate promises. I need you to actually fight for me, for us, instead of just going along with everything. Either that, or–” the lump in your throat deepend, “ –you can let me go”

Harry was taken aback by your words. But still, there was a part of him that didn;t fully understand what you were going through.  "You know it's not that simple, Y/N. One wrong move that tanks this publicity team's plans and my entire career could crater."

"So what?" you challenged, tilting your chin defiantly. Harry wasn't the only one being forced to make impossible choices. "Is the career really more important than your actual life, your happiness in a real relationship? Because I love you with everything, but I can't keep sacrificing my sense of self-worth and spinning out into reckless jealousy every waking moment just so you can have the best of both worlds."

"I...you have to understand, none of this publicity shite actually matters to me. Not really. It's all a smokescreen that will fade away eventually. But you, us - this love is my truth, my be all and end all. Don't give up on me, baby. I'll fix this, I swear it."

You wanted so badly to believe the desperation in Harry's voice. But the ache of sadness and insecurity had burrowed too deeply. What once would have swept you up in romantic adulation now just hollowed you out further.

"I really hope you can, Harry," you rasped, pulling away with immense reluctance. "Because I can't keep holding my breath waiting for the other shoe to drop much longer. This half-life just isn't enough anymore.I can't, Harry.I can't keep living like this."

Harry looked hurt now. He knew it was only a while before it all came shattering down, but the thought of Y/N walking away felt like a shard of glass lodged in his heart. 

"From this moment on, things change," he rasped. "No more bowing to bloody publicists and image managers. My truth, our bond, comes before anything else. You're about to become my permanent bloody shadow, love."

A smile curved your lips at his words. Reaching up to trace the sharp edge of his chiseled jaw, you felt a wave of relief and renewed hope. "Well, I do make a devilishly charming shadow, if I say so myself."

Harry's gaze drank you in like a man rewarded with an infinite oasis after years of directionless wandering. "That you do, baby. No more hiding that radiant light of yours, yeah? "

He sealed the vow with a kiss that seared straight through to your bones. You clung to him, every brush of his hands and velvet tongue rekindling the deepest intimacy between you two. 

When you finally pulled apart, chasing oxygen, Harry made an immediate move to sweep you up into his arms like a blushing bride. "Come on, love. Let's go remind the world of who they're dealing with, shall we?"

You looped your arms around his neck with a giddy laugh as he strode through the penthouse with you cradled protectively to his chest. Despite his determination, his hold was soft, cherishing. Like you were something infinitely precious to be handled with utmost care, or you would break.

Without explanation, Harry marched you both out and down to where a sleek black car was out front, the doorman quickly ushering you inside the backseat. Once the privacy partition rolled up, Harry immediately turned to you.

"I mean it, every word," he stated plainly. "No more deceptions or hiding our connection. From here it's full transparency and only the truth."

you felt overcome by tenderness and awe. "So...does that mean an end to the fake relationship with Kendall then?"

"Among other things," Harry confirmed without hesitation. To your surprise, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and thumbed it open to the camera app, situating you both in the frame. "We're going to document and share every moment of us, the real us. Let my supporters and fans see who truly holds my heart before all others."

You blinked in astonishment as he looped an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush as the camera captured. Was this really happening? After all your heartbreak and insecurity brought on by that disastrous PR relationship, was Harry truly throwing it all to the wind?

That was clearly his intention as he leaned in to nuzzle your cheek dotingly, snapping pic after sweet pic of shameless embraces and intimate caresses being exchanged between you. Each time the shutter clicked he murmured loving adorations, his focus immovable.

"Gorgeous girl...my forever woman...heart and soul of my entire world..."

You blinked back tears. When was the last time you'd felt this elevated by Harry's worshiping? Your shaky exhales intermingled hotly as he maneuvered you fully into his lap, slanting his mouth hungrily across yours.

"My everything," he growled against your lips before kissing you breathless.

"Harry..." you finally managed to gasp out as you pulled apart, "what are you doing? If you post those shots, then-"

"Then the whole world will know I'm mad for you, and only you," he said, with nothing but seriousness and devotion in his voice,  "No more closeting my actual partner away like a mistress to be hidden from disapproving eyes. You're the only romantic relationship fully grounded in truth that the world needs to be focused on."

You shivered at the assurance in his tone. This was really it - the definitive line in the sand. And with Harry looking at you the way he was, you couldn't find it in yourself to argue or question further. You simply melted into his heat, losing yourself in the incredible feeling of being staked as his claim.

With a few taps, Harry posted the first of intimate photos and captions that set the internet instantly ablaze. Breathy confessions of forever love intermingled with searing makeout shots - it was a rush of letting go of months of pent-up passion and adoration for the world to finally bear witness.

All the while, Harry refused to tear his stare from worshiping every inch of your body. His broad palms trailing over the exposed curves of your hips, waist, the swell of your breasts - anchoring you fully into the present.

Your social media was immediately swamped by a plethora of comments, tags and speculation over the tsunami wave of intimate reveals. Harry's fanbase seemed to have divided between celebration and outrage over their beloved idol being so thoroughly claimed by an average nobody. 

More jarring, however, was the media/PR teams' explosive reactions. Both your phones blew up with frantic calls and enraged messages demanding explanations and emergency meetings. As expected, the team working to orchestrate Harry's fake relationship with Kendall were melting down over the sheer negligence of you both, and damage control now being initiated.

For a long while, you both simply ignored it, too immersed in devouring the rebirth of your connection to spare any attention elsewhere. You reveled in being subjected to Harry's fervent, undivided worshipping as his fingertips and lips swept across every velvet hollow and slope. His sensual assault was purposefully overwhelming, etching his permanent claim over your quivering form.

"They'll keep the noise up for a while, try spreading all sorts of misinformation and manipulation to regain control of the narrative," Harry finally mumbled without breaking the rhythm of stripping you bare and lavishing undivided attention over each exposed new expanse of satin flesh.

You shivered beneath him, and he tilted your chin up with a knuckle to capture your gaze, "But none of that shite matters now, okay? All that matters is that I’m all yours now. Only yours.:

And you were never letting him go.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[clancycatears]

∂яαgση яι∂єя нєα∂¢αησηѕ — WITH TASK FORCE 141

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi. i rewatched the original how to train your dragon, and recently saw the new live-action film adaption. just went on a whim and thought of what the boys' dragons would be if they were dragon riders in the series! gonna stick to four each, because there's like... 150-ish different species of dragons out there. this is all coming from a loyal school of dragons player, so i hope i deliver! do i make a bonus post with everyone else? perhaps…

Dragons with the color orange are what I believe to be the character's primary companion! All links are to the dragon's page on the How to Train Your Dragon Wiki if you're interested! [1.2k words]

JOHN PRICE

John definitely specializes in dragons that display great stoicism and leadership! He and his dragon could make the perfect authoritative pair, while also being soft and collected when they want to be! So yes, I gave him both Hiccup's mom and dad's dragons. Like c'mon, they suit him! You can't tell me he isn't giving Stoic, can you??? Both the leader of Task Force 141, and the island of Berk! But I can also see him blacksmithing with Johnny and dabbling in armoring! Taking inspiration from one of the dragons here definitely gets the gears turning for him.

CRIMSON GOREGUTTER. That thing is BEEFY. Like comparable to John’s strength. The two would make a crazy, powerful, bulky duo. And those horns (antlers)? Clear show of authority and a perfect bulletproof shield for its handler.

RAZORWHIP. Not only a bulletproof shield, but a living, breathing, double-edged sword. Weapons and hazards literally ricochet off of this thing’s scales. John studies the Razorwhip especially for that reason! Wants to keep his boys safe and make them armor that resembles it!

RUMBLEHORN. Stoic’s dragon. Enough said there, but this thing’s rough and tough like John, too! Not quite as defensive and reliable as the Crimson Goregutter, but just imagine getting stepped on or rammed by this thing??? And those HORNS? Better keep your distance, or you’re going straight to the infirmary.

STORMCUTTER. Valka’s dragon, and my personal favorite species of all time! It’s as beautiful as it is dangerous. Like, c’mon, can’t say no to those eyes! Just as satisfying as a sight as John’s silly little bear smile. But be careful. The thing’s saliva is flammable, like John’s sharp tongue. The perfect pair for sure.

SIMON RILEY

I think all of these options speak for themselves. Dangerous, deadly, and most are a legend among Berk in the series! They display power and strength equal to that of their handler, and undying loyalty to match Simon's! So no, not all of these are because they have "bone" or "death" in their names, but because they're powerful and perseverant. (But the names were definitely an inspiration. LMAO.) Totally the type of guy to be a nurse towards the dragons! Caring for them when they're injured or sick, further strengthening his bond with his (not-so-little) friends.

BONEKNAPPER. This thing’s made the bones of the dragons they’ve killed into its own armor, while Simon’s dug himself out from the grave. They’re meant for each other because of that alone. And they have matching skulls! Cute. Hehe.

NIGHT FURY. “[…] Never shows itself. Never misses.” DIRECT MOVIE QUOTE. DIRECT. QUOTE. That thing is literally a living sniper, fits The Ghost™ perfectly. Dark, foreboding, yet agile when it fights. I imagine Simon sporting a full black set of armor to blend into the night with it, too.

SILVER PHANTOM. One of the fastest dragons alive. Like borderline comparable to the Night Fury—maybe even swift cartridges. Perfect to camouflage through white or gray groups of clouds because of its colors, too! Perfect high ground for Simon to take advantage of (since he uses a bow and arrow for sure). And c’mon, does that thing not also look like a ghost?

WHISPERING DEATH. Do you see that thing? I think if I were to ever face a Whispering Death, I’d faint and probably die. That thing looks SCARY. But in all honesty, they’d be the softest out of the bunch. Like some would watch Simon give the thing chin scratches with their jaws on the floor.

JOHN MACTAVISH

Johnny definitely handles the more chaotic dragons out of the bunch. Like I swear, if I were doing two-headed (or more) dragons, he'd absolutely pair up with Kyle on a Hideous Zippleback or with Simon on a Snaptrapper, but we're sticking to individuals right now. Like personally, Johnny is LITERALLY the embodiment of Snotlout, so that's why the dude's very own dragon is in this list! Out of the group, he'd be the blacksmith. I imagine he makes the crazy big axes and maces for the lot. (He personally uses a huuuge battle axe.)

MONSTROUS NIGHTMARE. Pairing Johnny up with a dragon that can light itself on fire is a dangerous combo. Lethal duo indeed. And John, being the overprotective father figure that he is, will be making his boy a fireproof set of armor to keep him safe! Johnny and his dragon would definitely fuck around with fire 24/7, too.

SCAULDRON. Quite the opposite compared to the Monstrous Nightmare. The thing shoots boiling hot water from its maw, it can fly, and it can swim. This is why we should fear the ocean, and Johnny, because he and his Scauldron absolutely dominate a fight from the water. And I just think the two of them look silly together. LMAO.

SKRILL. Okay, I guess I have a thing with Johnny handling dragons that control nature's elements. The Skrill doesn't breathe fire or boil water in its mouth, it spits fucking lightning. And it literally rides on thunderstorms to accelerate? Are you kidding? Johnny would have a ball with this one. But in all seriousness, he and Simon are using the darkness of storm clouds to their advantage.

THORNRIDGE. Much like Johnny, the Thornridge has the most stamina out of the other dragons on this list, and lots of endurance! Sure, its abilities are a bit basic (straying from using the elements to its advantage), but it's a very reliable species. Able to fly great distances and handle excessive damage without breaking a sweat. The two would make a great match!

KYLE GARRICK

Kyle "Pretty Boy" Garrick™ handles the beautiful, majestic, graceful dragons 100%. If I liked the Light Fury just a little more, she'd be on this list, but I didn't want to get too basic on dragons from the main franchise, considering the handful I have here already. Kyle would definitely be the saddlemaker of the bunch! Making pretty saddles for every one of his teammates, while putting extra care into the ones he makes for his dragons to display his skills in the art of matching colors and shapes into his handiwork. Biggest fashion icon in Berk.

DEADLY NADDER. Kyle is literally an Astrid encarnate (diva status and fashion statements and all), so of course I had to include her dragon here! Sporting all sorts of pretty colors and deadly tactics (projectile tail spikes? hello?), Kyle would definitely put its abilities to good use!

DEATH SONG. Okay, besides the Stormcutter, the Death Song is like—my second favorite species in the franchise (and my go-to dragon when I played School of Dragons, lmao), so I had to give it to Kyle! Literally a siren in dragon form, with the ability to shoot an amber-like substance to trap opponents in place. Perfect for luring the baddies in without a tussle. (And it's just a pretty species. Like. Look at it.)

SAND WRAITH. Probably the least known species out of every single one I've covered here (it's in School of Dragons more than the actual franchise). Yes, I picked it because it's pretty, but also because of its use of camouflage! Similar build to the Night Fury, too, so it's incredibly agile and steadfast in battle.

TIMBERJACK. This thing literally cuts down trees with a single swipe of its wings, so you definitely do not want to go up against one in battle. While its wings look fragile, they're actually quite the opposite! They're huge and make the perfect shield when used for it. I can imagine Kyle dolling it up with more protective gear, though, just to be sure.

[makeyoumine69]

Daddy Knows Best 4 (loss of virginity)

NSFW rambling 4, previous part.

Patrick didn't bother to wait for your answer, he easily shifted your position so that your face was now pressed against the armrest of his spacious white couch and your pretty ass was up in the air.

"A-ah!" You whimpered pretty loudly as he glided his long fingers along your soaped folds - the slick sound driving you crazy. "Pat-Patrick-mhmm!" 

Clinging to the edge of the couch, you trembled more intensely with each inch Bateman moved closer to your innocent, tight hole, and when you felt his index finger poking at your wet opening, you had to bite your lower lip from a strange sensation that was both painful and exciting.

With a dark smirk, the man descended to your exposed pussy to give it a few licks before he slid two fingers inside of you at once, eliciting a shaky moan from your rapidly rising chest. "Uh, such a tight little pussy you have, babygirl," Patrick remarked, paying no attention to the way you were writhing on the couch, quivering and mewling some unrecognizable nonsense. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good, mmm, so fucking good."

Frowning from the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen, you wanted to ask him to stop, but instead you just clutched the soft fabric beneath you, doing your best not to start crying. "Keep talking to me...please," your voice wavered from your heavy breathing, several drops of sweat running down your strained forehead. "Daddy...a-awww!"

A loud, obscene sound of him slapping your ass bounced off the walls of his apartment, forcing all your nerve endings to ignite from hypersensitivity. 

"You seem to forget who is in charge here," Bateman scolded, pulling at your hair and lifting your head so he could see your frightened, doe eyes. "Mmm, your innocent hole can't even imagine how full I'm gonna make it!"

All the while, Patrick was pumping his throbbing cock to keep himself hard, only to suddenly thrust into your moist entrance, forcing all your insides to cramp into a knot.

"A-agghhhhh, Patrick!" You cried out, but then your opened mouth froze in a silent scream as his swollen tip pushed through the tight obstacle, causing you so much pain, but Bateman didn't care. "It hurts, ohhh, it hurts so bad...mmm," a hard slap on your hip silenced you for a while, but he didn't stop ramming into you with renewed force. "So big, so b-b-big, I can't...I can't take it!"

"Shhh," his low growl only made you more anxious than relaxed as the man's grip on your hair tightened until they were almost wrapped around his big fist. "You can take it, arghhh, your needy cunt clinging so fucking hard to my dick," as soon as he uttered that, Patrick placed his one leg on the couch and grabbed your shoulder for leverage to finally bottom you out competently, even though his dick was still not fully inside you. "Yeah, yeah, just like that, uh-fuck!"

Throwing his head back, Bateman slammed his firm hips into yours, the curve of his dick stretching your virgin inner channel in a sickening way, making you see stars and literally bite the armrest of that fucking white couch.

"O-ohhh, my goodness," you stuttered as the man changed your position again, forcing you to get on your knees and bend over the back of the couch, his veiny cock popping out of your sore slit, giving you a short break before Patrick filled you again, this time holding you tightly and not allowing you to stray. "Slow down, please, mhmm-slow down-"

But Bateman was relentless and ferocious when he finally had you in his hands, and he was not going to let you go, not when your inner, velvety walls were so perfectly encasing his dick.

[mooneeswrld]

WHAT IS LIKE TO BE A QUEEN ?

(CHAOS!ARTHURxREADER)

pairings : agedup!chaos!athur x reader

warnings : forced marriage, overprotecting, a bit of yandere, dirty talks, smut, penetrative sex, fingering, cervix fucking.

summary : as a daughter of a brilliant knight of Liones, you grown up in a abusive familyhood. you then escaped of this situation and someone’s knight were looking for a bride for their king just as they saw you running out…

prologue -> pt.1 -> pt.2

->preview->

“I declare you Queen of Camelott !”

and the full crowd applause and say things like “glory to the Queen !!”

I smiled and looked at Arthur, this is not that bad actually.

->following->

what it’s like to be queen huh ? it’s nice.

as I got out of the dinner when everyone else was out, I was still on my traditional queen dress, she was heavy. I was heading out to my bedroom. when guards told me that the King transferred my bedroom. near his.

I sigh when the maid show me my new room, that was a real room of a queen.

I needed to clear my head so I said to the maid to go out and that they will change me later.

I got myself on the bed and sighed, exhausted.

a knock on my door literally made me jump. I said to the person to enter and I saw Arthur.

“hello, my queen~” he said with a grin, a grin that always made me awaken.

“yes, my king ?” you said while loosening your corset.

you got no response but just an Arthur who came up to you and grabbed your waist.

“m-my king…it’s tonight tha-“ you got cut by a kiss on your lips, enjoying the exquisite lips of his.

he walked you to your bed without letting go of your lips. when he pull out for air, a gaze of hunger on his face when you decide to take the thing, you turned Arthur to push him onto the bed, you still up.

you then started unbuttoning your dress, letting you only with the corset and your short.

you took off the corset to let your bra appears and took off your short to let you panties out, you shivered at the contact of your bare skin and the fresh air.

his gaze narrowed on your body. when you came to him, unbuttoning his suit to let him only his underwear. seeing his athletic torso, you came up at astride on him. feeling his bulge in his underwear. Arthur was surprised by your body, you were kinda muscular, that makes him more inflame than before.

his hands here on your waist to pull you back beneath him. and continue his stimulate kisses. as he kissed you neck now you pulled your head to let him do it.

“k-king…” you whined as he found the sensitive spot on your neck and attacked it.

the air was aphrodisiac, you whining under him was making him more than aroused. he then took off the clip of your bra and throw it across your room, seeing your angelic boobs was making him hot on the face.

“you are mesmerising, my queen” he whispered exited on your neck.

as he kissed down your stomach, he arrived at the sensitive spot between your knees, he saw already a damp spot on it.

he kiss around the ardent spot and then kiss on it as you let a choke let out of your puffy mouth from kisses.

“m-my king please…”

it was torture before he took off your wet panties and place already a finger on your yummy clit and rub it gently as you shiver.

“yes my queen ?”

he grin and look at your fervent face. his finger now pushing into your wet pussy so it slides easily. a mewl got out your throat as he added another finger and ram your pussy.

“aah…fuck…~”

as you felt the delectation coming he stopped when he felt your walls tightening.

“you’re not cumming now, my queen~”

as your thought he was over, for him that was the beginning when he grabbed his underwear and took it off to let appear his thick cock, enormous. is that even gonna fit ?

“it-it’s n-ot…gonna fit~”

you pant breathlessly as he grin, his dick full of precum.

“i’ll make it fit gently, my queen”

without you could proceed the sentence of his, he force his way on your pussy with his enormous dick. you gasped for hair as the pain and pleasure filled your body.

“aah…no…’s t-too much…~”

when his dick was full inside you, you literally ad your orgasm. he kiss your head and start slow thrusts. your little pussy was already overwhelmed.

“ooh…baby..’s so tight f’me”

he pushed hard against your walls to spread them up as you cried out.

“aaah~…A-Arthur…yes…faster!…~”

your back bent so much that his hard thrusts were literally fucking your cervix.

“Ngh…s’ fuckin’ tight f’me…huh?”

has your walls squeezed him so bad while your arching cunt was tortured so bad, he overwhelmed you and your thigh body as he took you by the breasts and put your back against his torso. in that position it was much deeper.

as he violently pushed into you gummy walls he goes faster, pounding breathlessly in you.

“aaah…ngh…c-comin’…”

the ecstasy was up into your tummy as he said the word that makes you thrilled.

“cum…cum f’me baby~”

as you let a big moan got out of your throat, he let his white ropes paint your pussy as he groaned in your neck.

as your body was shivering he got out of you and chuckled

“now…you’re mine~”

*the end*

[cherrydipp]

hi guys heres my melvin dipp headcanons cuz i cant remember if i ever posted them. been accumulating them for a while now so ignore the poor quality its normally just me ranting whenever i had a thought

- originally tried out for the football but didn’t make it. instead, he joined the track team hence why ponyboy is his number 1 opp.

- brings up sergei whenever he can. “nobody even likes you melvin 😒😒” “SERGEI DOES. 😡” whenever he isn’t around he also accidentally mentions their inside jokes only to be met with pure silence while he laughs by himself… “ts wasnt even funny” “SERGEI IS THE ONYL 1 WHO GETS IT 😡😡😡😡”

- in modern day would be an ipad kid. blockblast brainrotted. bullies kids on fortnite squads gamechat. he tried to play COD but ended up crying when all the grown male adults bullied him in gamechat

- light freckles around his nose and cheeks (very few and VERY light)

- was gifted a pickup line book as a gag gift one year for his birthday… would use the cheesy lines on ace but SERIOUSLY. like hes leaning against the wall and mewwing just to say “if you were a fart, i’d clench you so hard to never let you go 😏” she stared at him in disgust.

- tagteams chet with sergei.

- more outgoing/extroverted but this isn’t necessarily a good thing.

- nevel papperman coded…

- MELVIN DIPP. i whole heartedly stand by melvin being trips younger brother. it’s the reason he tags along every now and then with the socs. seen by them sort of how steve sees ponyboy i’d assume like a tag-a-long. (Brie Leftwich is diaBOLICAL for leading people to believe melvin is chet’s little brother. that’s his OPP!)

- seth from superbad variant

- would have some weird fuck ass pet because his grandma doesn’t want fur everywhere. probably a bird or a gecko.

- melvin is actually dying to be like trip and his friends. he acts annoyed when his grandma makes him go out with trip (hands in pockets puffing out his cheeks WHY) but in reality he’s secretly excited. even if that means he’s just going to be either picked on or ignored the entire time.

- gumball waterson scream: full of voice cracks and high pitched yet hitting puberty scream

- trip when all he can see when he looks melvin is himself despite them being from different dads and looking nothijg alike. its his mannerisms and the way hes become to dependent on cigarettes to get him buzzed reminds trip of himself and alcohol 😴😴😴😴 sinilar bruises blooming over his ribs and cheeks a tell tale sign that hes been getting into fights he cant win 😴😴😴 worrying that the younger is gonna end up in the newspaper the next morning cuz hes digging himself a grave

- melvin has a lisp. he was born with it and did the public school speech classes which somewhat worked but his progress all went to waste cuz of his teeth. he had originally messed up teeth — not to bad but it was bad enough where he had to get it fixed. so when he got braces they literally FUCKED him over. being teased left and right by bob and the others, making fun of his mouth full of metal. not to mention his lisp was still lingering so it just added on. when he finally got them off, he thought he was free at last… little did he know he would have to wear a retainers at night so his teeth don’t revert back. HOWEVER. his grandma FORCES him to wear it ALL THE TIME cuz she’s so worried about all the money she put into those “pearly whites” going to waste. so he has a more noticeable lisp (than he already did because he had one growing up) because of the metal retainer. which, of course, the socs all poke fun at him for. especially when hes pissing them off.

chet: “melvin ‘thut’ the fuck up you ‘thupid’ bitch”

melvin: “😥”

- most definitely one of his weak points. he shuts up as soon as it’s mentioned and his ears/face turn red. FURROWING HIS EYEBROWS. this guy mad ash!!!

- alvin chipmunk variant

- kevin g variant

- gumball waterson variant

- xyler (cosmic earth trip) variant

- sergei and melvin = kurt and ram

- slightly fraser wrwwr coded… very very very slightly……..

- GREG HEFFLEY VARIANT.

- prefers math over reading. he doesn’t really have the attention span to sit around and read a whole novel or scan articles to find evidence. plus, the teacher’s lessons go by soooo slow. math just comes easy to him to the point where he doesn’t need to study and can still achieve a passing grade.

- his eyebrows are permanently furrowed. its so bad boy why do you always look mad as HELL. most of the time it’s pretty subtle but his go to reaction face is DISGUSTED. why are you so judgeMENTAL BOY.

- he would be team logan paul

- tends to jump/threaten greasers who are bigger than him. he thinks he’s tough — thinks he can take them all on his own without anyone’s help, but of course in the end he’s wrong. trip ends up searching around town to find him lying in the lot or in some dingey alley bruised with dried blood on his face. he doesn’t know exactly the reason why he always needs to fight. he just does. it’s an urge that he can’t sustain. maybe it’s to prove something about himself, or to relieve some stress, but glory even Melvin doesn’t know why he’s so reckless. doesn’t know why he ignored Trip’s stern demand to stay home, or why he runs into the rumble. afterward, however, trip checking on melvin after the rumble as he sleeps like peaking his head in and stuff too make sure hes alright 😴😴😴 he was the one to fix him up and tend to his wounds and had been not so silently freaking out the entire time, guilt for the situation coming out in his frustration as melvin continues to tell him he doesnt need help 😴😴😴

- sergei and melvin bromosexual they joke around like regular highschool boys.

- personally, i don’t think ace likes melvin back especially with the way tilly and melody make it out to be. it’s just like a teen boy crush (celebrity crush almost really in a sense), so he’s trying to hit her up and she just glares at him before turning away. he would definitely tell sergei about her though and how he finds her attractive.

- very set on ponyboy and melvin parallels. both on the track team, both strained relationship with their older brother, both no parents, etcetc. also both are CHRONIC smokers. but for different reasons. MELVIN IS NOT THE END OF THE CYCLE. (read dipp brothers lore in case you don’t know). sergei HATES when he smokes strictly because of the smell. it’s terrible and it always lingers on the blond’s clothing.

[mychlapci]

reading that Tarantulas and Prowl processor overload ask has revived one of my recently dormant fetishes

(this is an expansion on the forced porn download ask actually, wasn't really done b4 sending)

Prowl's archives just being a massive database of miscellaneous data, which seems like a fully practical thing that he'd do for simulation work at first glance, but in truth, he just never deletes anything because he gets off to the feeling of being just sooooo full in places no physical sensation can reach.

He wasn't always like this, you see. Prowl used to maintain good software management habits. He'd defrag according to a strict schedule, used connection buffers often and cleared his processing queues before recharge. He would never think twice about netdiving into shady websites with nasty popups, let alone download anything from there. But eventually, as his processors develop at that exponential pace his handlers noticed upon bringing him online, Prowl got bolder.

Bold enough to make a slip up and plug into a corrupt mainframe, triggering that forced download and kickstarting his fetish for good. He barely remembers anything about that incident other than an overwhelming mental barrage of arousal. Sometimes Prowl wonders if his colleagues at the time knew just what was literally going through his head as he slumped over on the console, seizing in place as they frantically tried to disconnect him safely. Maybe they caught the scent of his overload under his panels, and chose not to say anything.

Prowl would of course say that he was perfectly fine after that incident, but he'd be haunted by that instance of utter bliss he'd felt when like 30 terrabytes of ERP chatlogs and erotic flashgames burned through his neural circuitry. Eventually, he'd start by visiting a library. Full of clean and safe data to indulge in. Then he started logging all non-confidential precinct data, like routine security footage that's get deleted anyways, and dispatch call recordings. Then he started downloading from legal websites, then onto not so legal ones.

He even has backup and extra hard drives stored in his office and habisuite in plain sight, since no one else but other archivists and data specialists would catch on to his kink in the first place. Every once in a while, he'd plug himself into all these units and just let all that data flood through him, his fans and cooling systems squealing in effort to keep up with the deluge of information forcing it's way through his staticy brain, reducing his overclocked cognitive units into jello as his RAM gets consumed by pure uncontrollable math.

He loves the feel of his mind being pounded by googols of nonsense, it makes him hornier than anything else. He'd save anything from the internet, books and numeric databases are his usual go tos; high definition media are a must, the more graphically and audially intensive the better; the most unoptimized and performance heavy video games, anything that would fill up his hungry battle computer until it's full to bursting and melting.

Sometimes when he feels extra naughty, he'd even fire up the various malware and viruses the Spec Ops team would bring back, on top of all the seedy ones he'd find online. He'd trigger them in his processor and lie back in his berth, finger his fluttering pussy and feel the malicious software start tearing through his brain as his battle computer instinctively fights back, making him feel soooo hot all over. And every time he overloads, it sweeps all of his progress, and the self cleaning protocols will just have to restart as he writhes helplessly in the dark of his room.

Software sanctity? Fuck that, he'd hit anything as long as it demolishes his brain and make him into a silly, messy, spasming horny mess. A real dataslut.

god this is so good. He's quite literally overloading his processor out. It's almost like an addiction. Of course, Prowl could stop any time he wants... he could, he just doesn't want to! After a while, pumping his head full of junk data and malicious viruses is the only way Prowl can even have a fulfilling orgasm. Being full of miscellaneous data is just not enough. It's a pleasant pressure in his constantly calculating brain, yes, but if he wants to cum, he needs something stronger. He'll keep frying his brain inside of his helm as long as he gets to feel that electrifying thrill of his battle computer struggling to deflect the attacks on his mainframe.

It feels like he's falling apart at the circuits, delicate wiring so hot that it's disintegrating into dust, and all he can do is frantically rub his soaking wet valve through it all, optics bright and staring off into space as his HUD floods with nonsense. All his senses are completely taken over by the foreign malware, all he knows is that he feels so good.

Honestly, I wonder what would happen if he got stuck like that. Just for a day or two. And someone had to find him in his apartment, face twisted in pure bliss as his frame keeps twitching even after countless hours of continuous overloads. Of course, Prowl's processor gets cleaned out after that, yet he can't help but want to repeat it... to feel so absolutely stuffed and overwhelmed with data that he's just a wet, helpless thing. To give up control and let his processor sink into endless pleasure.

But for now, he's got a morning shift at the precinct to finish.

[trevisianlynxx]

Do you think if any bad guy tried to forcibly kiss Emmrich, he'd literally necrotize them with a kiss or full on drain the life out of them that way? I just think with Emmrich being such a seasoned pro, it makes him all the more terrifying if he needs to be!

Anon,

this is some big-brained absolutely i c o n i c shit right here.

Can you imagine a particular opponent having the upper-hand over the select few of the team who have gone to face them? Perhaps it's Zara Renata, taunting Lucanis as he's forced to kneel bound and helpless, unable to prevent her running her fingers through Emmrich's hair, or a pointed, perfectly manicured nail down his cheek and along his jaw to tip up his chin in a faux tender gesture. Lucanis and Spite's furious snarling only motivating her further as she kisses the Necromancer. Perhaps she intends to ram a dagger through his heart while she does so, to really break the Crow. Instead, to her surprise, and Lucanis' shock and betrayal, Emmrich kisses back. He can feel Zara's amused smile against his lips, her eyes closing to deepen the kiss, which means she doesn't see the moment Emmrich's lidded eyes glow green as he delves deep into his pool of magic. By the time Zara realises, feels the tendrils of his magic spreading through her like burgeoning roots, it's far, far to late. The necrotic magics spreads from their joined lips, draining Zara's life force like a vampiric kiss, leaving only waste and atrophy in its wake. The kiss only breaks when Zara's concealed dagger drops to the floor and her crumpled body follows -- shriveled lungs dragging in the last of her dying breaths. Emmrich spits on the floor next to her as she dies and their magical restraints fade to nothing. Emmrich's new nickname is lady-killer and he really doesn't know how to feel about it.

[sombrashe]

MA’AMMMMM CHUBBY CHASER NAMGYU HAS MY HEARTTTTT I NEED SOME DIRTY THOUGHTSSSSS🥹🥹🥹

ugh chubby chaser namgyu may not know how to keep his thoughts to himself but he certainly knows how to keep you fat and happy 😩

namgyu forces you into positions that aren't uncomfortable... at first. bending you in half while he rails into you. your whines and moans of his name spurring him on. keeping his eyes on your folded stomach and tits that bounce with ever hard thrust. feeling your thighs, nice and squishy, against his abdomen as he fucks you. having you ride him, your chub spilling out between his tight grip on your hips. his eyes shining as you gain a deeper double chin by looking down at him. forcing you facedown in a soft pillow as he rams his hips into your gorgeous fat ass. watching it ripple with glee as he tries to make different sized waves by thrusting at different speeds. grabbing at your back roll to keep you in place as you weakly complain. using the pudge of your lower stomach to keep you upright and on your knees. his face buried in your hair as he whines pit how good you feel. you only start to feel uncomfortable when he opens his big fat mouth.

"Do you see that baby? How my cock moves in you?"

"Nam-gyu, I can't see shit, I'm fat remember?"

"You're just not looking hard enough. I can see it fine."

"You're getting so thin I can barely feel you when you ride me."

"Nam-gyu I literally just ate."

"Obviously not enough."

chubby chaser namgyu is lowkey a freak with it. the second he saw a bigger body he knew he had to learn to cook. making you homemade meals to keep you nice and plump. watching you like a hawk to make sure you swallow every little bite (please lick the plate clean so he can rail you against the table as a reward). giving you seconds and even thirds if you're up for it so he can comfort you as you become uncomfortably full. getting hard in his pants as you politely ask him what he made for dessert. your softness only second to your sweet heart. how polite and gentle you are as you look over his shoulder to take in the cake he made for you two to share. cutting you a slice that is much too big so he can watch you struggle to finish it trying to be respectful. rubbing at himself under the table as you get the uncomfortable look on your face and he knows you're waaaaay too full.

"How was dinner, blue?"

"Really good, I think I ate too much though."

"Really? Need to lay down?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't say sorry, baby. Let's get you to bed."

[lumiaxz]

omg i love new tumblr creators!

Can you do konig as your boss and you need a raise ikik pretty stereotypical😋

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Anything for a raise you say? (boss konig x assistant reader)

warnings: face-fxcking, boss x assistant dynamic, degrading, sl*t-shaming, semi-public s*x, bl0wjob

an: omg a askkkk and ofc🤭🤭

an 2: lemme know if I missed any warnings

word-count: 638

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Another boring and tiresome day in the office, you hadn’t been able to buy your favorite coffee in a while due to bills and other things that usually come before a expensive ass cup of coffee that’ll hardly help. As you were working you received a phone call from your landlord.

“Hello Miss, I’m sorry for the inconvenience but it appears that you are a month behind on your rent. You have until next week to pay or I’ll be calling the moving team to empty your apartment, any further questions?”

“Oh god… Could I please just get one more month, this time I promise I’ll have it.”

“you said that last month, and the moth before that. Your lucky I haven’t already kicked you out. I’ll be collecting the cash next week on Sunday.”

you hang up. Your boss, König, sends you a email with more paperwork to fill out, he isn’t making this any easier. You owe your landlord 2k, you’ve owed that for quite some time now but at your salary per week you’ll never get there in time. After filling out the paperwork König had sent you realized, at this rate you’ll loose your apartment and you literally and physically cannot afford that.You knock on his door and after a few seconds of silence, he opens the door

“I’m not paying you to slack off and complain all the time.”

“And your not paying me enough at all, I need a raise.”

“Your telling me your 500$ paycheck each month isn’t enough?”

“Not enough to pay all of my bills, look König, im not asking for alot.”

He thought for a second, Why should he pay you extra to cover bills? It’s not his issue, but he’ll agree to help you, well under one condition..

“Suck me off, and I’ll cover your rent for the next 2 months. Simple isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t believe I stuttered, Suck me off, and I’ll cover your rent for the next 2 months.”

I wasn’t the end of the world, no. But you sure as hell didn’t want to suck him off for some money like a cheap whore, but you needed the money…. After some hard thinking, you agreed.

You walked around his desk and got on your knees

“Do I have to coach you on this too, or you know how?”

You roll your eyes and unzip his pants and reach into his boxer for his cock, you pull down his boxer slightly and his cock sprang out of his jeans, the sight was vomit inducing because of his size. You plant kitty licks and soft kisses all over his cock, the tease in you jumped in and took the wheel. You kiss his tip but König is not the type to just let you tease him, he grabs a fist full of your hair and pushes your head down, forcing you to take his entire length down your throat.Gagging and suppressed moans bounced off the walls as he bobbed your head up and down to the point where your eyes had rolled to the back of your head. An unexpected turn took, at least for him is when tears started flowing down your face. He couldn’t care less, In fact the sight turned him on even more.

“Look at you crying like a little whore, I almost feel bad for you.”

Your hands on his thighs as he rams his length in your mouth like a angry mountain goat, after some time he tightened his grip on your hair and with a final thrust his cum painted your mouth white.

“You made a mess all over my floor, clean it and yourself up.”

“Are you at least going to pay me?”

König smirked as he handed you a envelope with 4000$

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮