#what’s next dick?and balls?? obscene

[short666bread]

[gutsby]

Diehard

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Erectile dysfunction. Daddy kink. Praise kink if you squint. Overstimulation. Cumplay. She/her pussy pronouns. Pushing physical limits with a pre-negotiated safe word in place for it.

Note: No more limp dick erasure. We die like [old] men.

Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse | Word count: 986

Joel just wanted to prove he could fuck like he used to.

He didn’t think he’d almost kill you in the process.

“JOEL!” you screeched, heels digging deep in the mattress as your climax came in seismic waves.

The stimulation was insane. Normally the much-older man would have been down for the count after two—and usually one—big O, but now his chest was heaving, hips relentlessly beating a punishing pace against your own.

Your walls were slick with not only your cum but his, milky ropes of his arousal making for an obscene set of sounds every time his dick slid in and out of your cunt. You could feel his balls tighten and twitch with every forthcoming spurt of him, practically reeling with the pulse of each new sticky gift inside you. His groans rumbled low, but the power and pleasure and outright primal fervor they conveyed were unmistakeable. You had to look down, feebly, to believe it yourself—Joel never fucked his way through your orgasm and his.

Then you felt a palm slide up the back of your head, and Joel held it up to make sure you watched him fuck you.

“J-Joel,” you whimpered, watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a half-dozen times as you did.

“Just a little more, honey,” he murmured against your forehead. The smack of each thrust was dizzying, “Want my pretty girl nice and full’a me before she leaves, okay?”

Joel never could let you head back to college without a few of his loads and a head full of filthy memories—something to hold you over until your next visit home. You would’ve liked to mumble back, ‘Okay,’ but then your pussy clenched around him, and his thrusts grew faster.

“My sweet girl,” he grinned, “She likes that, huh?”

You could scarcely manage a nod. The weight of your head was held fully by him, and if that wasn’t indicative enough of your fucked-out state, your face surely said the rest. When Joel leaned back to adjust the angle of his thrusts, he caught sight of your hooded, glossy stare and almost came all over again. He slowed his pace for once.

Then he dipped a finger between your body and his, just long enough to douse the tip of his digit with cum. He bottomed out inside you, watched you part your lips in a gentle gasp, and pressed his touch to that open space.

It was almost like you didn’t have the strength to suck. You just let him smear the sticky stuff along your lower lip, gaze plastered to his. Then Joel’s cock sank deeper.

“O-ow!” you whined, partly reanimated by the stretch.

“You can take it,” Joel grunted.

The double entendre wasn’t lost on you. You could, and would, take his finger and his cock inside. You suckled dumbly on the cum-drenched fingertip in assent.

But when Joel’s finger popped out of your mouth and his thrusts picked back up, you weren’t entirely convinced you would be able to hold up the second half of that deal.

It wasn’t fair. He took one magic pill, and poof, his dick stayed hard for half the fucking day. You had nothing but your youth and two shaking legs to ensure your survival. When Joel worked his cock back and forth a couple more times and it seemed your body was about ready to scream, you took hold of his biceps and squeezed tight.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

The tip of his cock nicked a soft ridge inside you, and you jolted back. Joel’s palm was still pressed to your head, holding you to him, and his hips had you pinned as well.

Instead of answering, you whimpered.

You didn’t want him to stop, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any more. Your eyes met his, pleading.

“Can’t what?” Joel pressed, a little more sternly.

Another whimper. Inside, Joel’s cock was rubbing that pleasure point raw, and you felt another climax coming.

“Use your words.”

“Too— too—”

Each new thrust was sending stars before your eyes. Joel was one sick man if he tried to make you talk while he fucked you past the point of all intelligible speech.

“Too what? Tell me, baby.”

You’d get that fucker back someday. Joel just grinned.

“Too much,” you hissed when his hips delivered another mind-numbing push. Then, feeling pleasure threaten to peak at almost a painful degree, “Toomuchtoomucht—”

Joel continued thrusting, knowing damn well you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop. As if to underscore this point, he tipped your head back and made you hold his gaze, features creased with a frown.

“That sure don’t sound like the safe word to me.”

It wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. He didn’t need to tell you twice, or even breathe a second word besides. With one more brush of Joel’s thick, throbbing, implausibly hard cock, he sent you over the edge and into your fourth orgasm of the morning, hitting that spot again and again.

And again.

And again.

Just like before, Joel fucked you through each wave, catching your lips this time to stifle your cries. You might’ve gone blind for a second or two, but that was alright; the pleasure, proximity, and then the sweet, erratic pulse of his cock sending rope after rope of his cum deep inside made the overstimulation worthwhile.

Your body went limp against the bed, held tight in Joel’s grasp, when you felt that sickly sweet dichotomy of soft, tender touches and a cock lodged between your walls that was as hard as it had ever been. Still trying to console you with kisses, still trying to warm you up for another round, perhaps, Joel almost laughed out loud in your mouth when you groaned into his and whispered:

“Please don’t ever take that fucking pill again.”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost Letting You Watch Him Masturbate

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Desperate! Ghost, Touch-Starved! Ghost, Dominant! Ghost, Edging, Assisted Masturbation, Guided Masturbation, The Mask Stays On, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

He loves the way you watch him so intently as his hand works the shaft of his aching cock, the tip red and angry as he staves off his orgasm just to let you watch for a little bit longer. You come closer, on hands and knees, and sit before him, just shy of the area between his legs. The danger zone.

The sound of squelching is obscene, as is the sight of his dick glistening with pre. If he pulled his hand away, strings of it would cling to his palm, beckoning – begging – him to return.

He can hardly refuse you when you ask him if you can touch it. Touch him.

He nods, pulls his hand away enough so that you can slip yours beneath his. His hand is sticky as it clamps down around yours. He guides you, starting out with light strokes, mindful of the euphoria building just below his stomach again. Raw. Fresh.

When you’re more confident in this rhythm, you grip him a little tighter. Look up into Ghost’s half-lidded eyes. He nods, but can’t find the energy to lift his head back up. He’s looking down at you, his mask concealing all but the lethargic lust in his eyes. And when you start to move faster, he thinks he can feel Heaven. His slick hand is tight – nigh crushing – over yours, making you squeeze him tighter, harder. God, harder.

And when your fingers graze the sensitive skin of his tip, his head almost rolls back, his eyes screwing shut. He gasps, and his breath shutters

He knows that this won’t be like all the other times when it was just him all alone in his room, or the barracks, or the showers. He can feel it in the rapid tightening of his balls, one hanging lower than the other, in the knotting in his stomach. He feels his vein twitch – the one you’d been so curiously eyeing earlier – when you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes, eyes soft. You come closer. Sat between his legs now. He’s oozing from the tip; an effect only you can have. He’d have been embarrassed were he not in the crosshairs of what he could tell would be one of the most excruciating orgasms he’s ever had.

He’s panting now, watching you as, with soft fingers, you work the tip, spreading his juices across it, down his shaft. When you come back up, clenching your fingers around his tip, he hisses. Jolts. When you try to retract, concern evident in the furrow of your brow, he snatches your hand back, gripping your wrist and enclosing your hand around him once more.

“Keep goin’,' he pants. His eyes glisten beneath the fluorescence of the dim bulb above you.

“Please.”

And you do. You squeeze and squelch and slide your hand along the length of him until your arm aches and his back is arching out of his chair, head lolling back as thick globs of cum spurt out from the tip. No warning. Just the explosion and its aftermath.

His grip around your hand tightens. You wince, but he doesn’t notice. He’s growling, guttural and animal, teeth gritted beneath his mask. He can feel his eyes strain with how far back into his skull they’ve rolled.

His stomach gradually becomes soaked in a viscous, milky spray. You’re sure you can see his shaft pulsating with every pump of his semen – like water through a pipe – emptying himself. Some of it gets caught in the hairs leading down from his belly button, thicker as they reach the pubic area.

His chest heaves. His hand is still around yours, looser now. But not by much. Keeping you there.

He musters the strength to look down at you again. Your eyes follow the beads of cum weeping from his tip as they cover his hand, staining the expanse of his scarred skin. He lets you go. Watches you watch the glossy beads of his release meet your hand. Warm and wet.

He’ll teach you how to take him with your mouth next time; teach you to work your tongue just how he likes it. He’ll watch you swallow all of him. He’ll forge the satisfaction of knowing that his cum will be swimming inside your stomach.

His. From the inside.

Heavy breathing; a hand tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his; a slim, crooked smile beneath his mask. He promises.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[shaguro]

୨୧ synposis: gojo loves the way lash extensions look on you.

✿﹢tags: porn with no plot. mdni (gojo x fem!reader, established relationship. sloppy blowjöb, a lil ball fondling, facial, dirty talk, gojo calls reader baby, pretty nd he’s a lil whiny at the end too!) consider this a lil gift before i drop my longer stories. ♡

gojo loves when you come home with a fresh set of lash extensions.

he drops hundreds of dollars on your pricey enhancements with no problem — well duh, the man has more money than he knows what to do with, that shit is pocket change to him! you’re a natural beauty of course, but there’s something about a wispy-dramatic full set that accentuates your features perfectly. you look so pretty, flaunting and fluttering the lashes with confidence, making his heart swell with pride. he makes sure to tell you that every chance he gets, too—

especially when you’re on your knees, looking up at him through those thick lashes with chunky tears clustered on your waterline as you wrap your glossy lips around his aching cock.

it sucks that he’s gonna ruin your lash tech’s hard work but don’t worry, he’ll pay extra for a next day touch up. good as new, right?

“open yer eyes baby, look at me . . uh-huh, yeaah, jus’ like that. look so fuckin’ pretty like this, so fuckin' messy.” gojo babbles with that big hand of his resting on your submental, the firm grip gives leverage for him to snap his hips up into your mouth, his bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat over and over. “won’t be mad if i make a mess all over this pretty face, will ya?”

as much as you want to say yes, there’s no way you could with gojo’s fat dick stretching your jaw to its limit, frothy drool pools at the corners of your lips each time you gag on it. an obscene mix of tears and spit trickles to your chin, down your tits. . .

it’s nasty — and you love it just as much as your boyfriend does.

you gurgle and glug as gojo fucks your throat, making sloppy sounds permeate the air. snowy-white pubes tickle your nose, heavy balls smack smack smacking your chin as his pace quickens, working himself towards that sweet release that’s so close, he can taste it. 

“oh fuuuck.” gojo pants out, abs clenching as the grooves of your throat constrict on his shaft. sweat beads form at his brows, threatening to race down his chiseled jaw. “m’gonna cum all over your face, baby- shit. feels so fuckin’ good, so tight, don’t think i can hold it anymore, please.”

how could you say no when he asked so nicely? it is your fault that he’s such a fucking mess, might as well give the man what he wants. 

you hollow your cheeks around him and lift a dainty hand to his neglected, swollen balls — you can tell how pent up your boyfriend is just from how heavy they are, eager to be emptied. you move in tandem with his hips, creating a delicious friction that has gojo’s eyes rolling until all you see are reddened scleras, pitchy curses rip from his throat in a breathy mantra — increasing in volume as his orgasm comes closer and closer until . . .

pulling you off his dick in a swift motion, gojo strokes himself frantically, leaking head positioned right over your face as he pleads for you to ‘stick your tongue out f’me, pretty’. just as you oblige, gojo groans loudly — ribbons of hot milky cum shoot out, glazing your tongue, cheeks, forehead, and most importantly, those lashes that your boyfriend loves so much. gojo pumps his cock until he’s sure there’s nothing left for him to give, pushing himself into the depths of overstimulation. his dick is completely limp when he finally releases it from his iron grip, still panting heavily as he admires the mask of his nut adorning your face, a true work of art.

even if your lashes are clumpy and matted now.

“hmm, i think you look prettiest like this.” gojo coos, swiping a thumb across your cheek and into your mouth, smiling in satisfaction when your tongue swirls around the cum-coated digit. “but damn, i really got carried away this time . . . “

gojo chuckles at the deadpan expression you give him and he reaches for his phone off the nightstand, searching for your lash tech’s name in his contacts. yes, he does this so often that he literally has the lady on speed dial.

“i’ll pay her extra to squeeze you in tomorrow, but until then . . .” he pauses to smile devilishly. “can i cum on them again?”

thank you to my favorite girl @thebimbopalace for beta-reading nd tagging my sis @rintcrous ♡

[crownedcritter]

NSFW EYELESS JACK HC/DRABBLE 🔞

💉If you ever manage to sleep with this creature, Godspeed.

💉He knows what he is doing, having become overly familiar with the human body and how it reacts to different types of stimulation and touches

💉That being said, he is more than capable of making you a screaming, creaming mess

💉He always makes sure you cum before he gets inside of you, mainly because it’s a necessity. If he didn’t, it would be quite painful for you and nearly impossible for him to fit inside of you

💉He’s rather feral. He does whatever he wants in the moment; slapping, spitting, drooling, tossing you into a new position, whatever he wants, he gets

💉Not to mention, he says the most mouth watering disgusting things when he’s pumping his cock deep inside of you, sometimes not even making coherent sentences

💉He will not pull out, and that’s a promise. The thought of coating your walls with his spunk after a rough pounding is almost enough to get him ready for another round

💉On that same note, don’t think he’s a one and done kind of guy. You’re gonna be begging for him to stop, but he won’t until he is satisfied

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

It had gone on for hours. The constant pounding against your g-spot, the constant cumming, creaming, and squirting on his cock was overwhelming and nearing the point of being painful. In a cock-dumb state, your mouth hung open, letting you taste the sheets he had shoved your face in, your drool leaking from the corner of your mouth and absorbing into the fabric. His hands had such a tight grip on your ass, slamming forward into you and using the leverage to bounce you back onto him, hitting deeper than you ever thought possible.

He had already cum inside of you a few times, the creamy white substance making such an obscene squelching noise when he slammed his hips against yours, dripping down your thighs and his balls, going completely unnoticed to either of you

“You like that? You love this cock, don’t you? Love milking me?”

His deep voice behind you sounded demanding.

You took a minute to respond, the feeling of being stretched out and fucked rotting your brain.

He growled and huffed behind you, before you felt a smack across your right ass cheek, before it went right back to that vice like grip on your behind

“Tell me you love this cock, whore. Say it. You were made to take this dick.” He punctuated each word of the last sentence with a particularly hard thrust.

“O-oh my f-fucking god..!” You almost screamed before babbling everything the demon wanted to hear.

Satisfied with your answer, he let out a chuckle before leaning forward. You felt his hands leave where you were certain would be bruises on your ass the next day, and he leaned forward, slowing down for just a moment.

You were close to looking back and seeing what the deal was, but he acted before you could.

He grabbed your hair and lifted your hair, allowing you to see his upside down face with how you were bent for a moment. He hooked his fingers into your cheeks, before picking back up the pace and the brutality of his thrusts, pulling your whole body back onto his cock.

🫶🏻 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[atinylittlepain]

i need joel x f! reader friends to lovers 😩🫶🏻

i took this and ran with it

Birds of a Feather

joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

joel has met his match, and though he's trying to keep things platonic, his brother has other plans for him.

warnings | 18+ smut, drunk tommy miller requires his own warning, angst, and a little fluff

wordcount: 4.1K

................................

Joel Miller has finally met his match, and he knows it. He had balked at it initially, when Tommy assigned him to patrol with some woman. But it wasn’t just some woman. Folks around town call her Sunshine, a running joke since she’s anything but. He didn’t know anyone could be more standoffish than him, but that first shift together, the steel in her stare and the tick of her jaw had thrown any of his ideas about her right out the window. Is it any wonder they became friends so fast?

He doesn’t like to talk much, she doesn’t either.

He has a dry sense of humor, but hers has to be even drier. 

She refuses to suffer fools, and he enjoys watching her put men in their place.

He’s slow to thaw toward people, and so is she, both of them melting in each other’s presence.

Where he’s from Texas, she’s from Tennessee, the remnants of their drawls twining up in easy conversation.

He likes a stiff glass of whiskey at the end of the day, and she’s always game to join him.

But maybe one of the things he likes best is that while he’s good at pool, she’s fucking great at it, and he doesn’t mind getting his ass handed to him on Friday nights at the bar, not when it’s her doing the handing.

“Are you asleep, Miller? Or are you really just that bad at pool?” Her grin flickers under the dim lights of the Tipsy Bison, and he knows that it’s a sight not many people get to see. She cocks her head to the side, spinning her cue stick lightly in her hand as she smirks at him.

“Easy, darlin, gonna make you eat those words one of these days.” She’s not Sunshine, not to him, he refuses to call her what everybody else does. She had confessed to him once, on a long patrol shift, that she hated the nickname, but was too proud to ever say anything about it. In turn, Joel had told her about how growing up, Tommy managed to get everyone at their highschool to start calling him “Skip,” something he hadn’t told anyone in close to thirty years. His residual embarrassment had been worth it to see her smile in that moment, and it was about then that Joel realized he had made a certified friend. Though everyone else seems convinced that something a little more is going on.

“Shit.” He completely scratches his next turn, sending the cue ball right into one of the pockets as she snickers.

“What was that about me eating my words?” He’s distracted, just a little, but who could blame him when she’s wearing a pair of cut-offs that should be illegal and a tank top that turns downright obscene when she leans over the table for her own turn. So maybe there is something a little more going on, but it’s one sided, he reckons, and he’s not about to fuck up the first friendship he’s cared about in years just because he’s thinking with his dick. But, apparently, that’s not the only thing he has to worry about.

“Well, howdy, if it ain’t Jackson’s favorite tag team, frick and frack.” Joel hasn’t seen Tommy this drunk in decades. The town council had been celebrating that night, though he’s not quite sure what. Regardless, Tommy is sloshed as he loops and arm over Joel’s shoulders, a lazy grin on his face as he looks between him and her.

“Joel, Sunshine. How are we this fine evening?” While she snorts at his slurred-out question, Joel is less than amused, shrugging his brother off of him with a huff.

“Touchy, touchy, big brother. What’s got your panties in a twist? Did you break his heart already, Sunshine?” Joel can feel his face blanch at Tommy’s drawling words, glancing between him and her. While she’s still smiling, the crease between her brows suggests she’s as thrown off as Joel is.

“What’re you on about, little Miller?” Tommy lets out a hoot of a laugh at her question, leaning up against the pool table and grinning at her.

“What I’m on about is the sweet little crush this big guy right here has on you. It ain’t healthy, really, Joel’s got it bad for you.” If they weren’t related by blood, Tommy wouldn’t have teeth in his head by now, but instead, Joel settles for letting his jaw all but drop to the floor as he looks between his giggling brother and her. She doesn’t look so amused anymore.

“It’s true! Ain’t seen his eyes get like that in a long time, those big ol’ puppy dogs of his are for you and you only, Sunshine.” Before the horror of it all can really settle in, Tommy sighs, slapping Joel on his shoulder and shuffling off with a low murmured “where’s Maria?”

Her eyes are wide when he finally looks at her, lips parted, complete bewilderment splashed across her face. And before she can say anything, Joel is turning heel and booking it out of there before everything comes crumbling down around him.

…

She’s stunned. By the whole thing really. Tommy’s ridiculous musings, the way that Joel didn’t deny any of it, and then the way he booked it out of the bar like he wanted nothing to do with her. She wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that her night was going to turn out like this. Not that she would tell anyone, but she loves Friday nights, pool nights, when she gets to spend just a little more time with Joel than usual. So for it to turn so sour so fast, she finds herself at a loss, clutching her cue stick in her hands, stuck standing where Joel left her.

There’s no two ways about it, she likes him. Things feel easy around him. She hadn’t met anyone else in town who she could talk to like she can him. He gets it, being on the road, not always having a warm place to sleep, what it means to kill. They’ve both seen a far different life than the one they’re living now, and talking to him makes her feel a little less crazy. And yes, maybe she also likes the strong cut of his jaw, the way his deep brown eyes crinkle up when she talks to him, the broad span of his shoulders, and how he squares them up when she challenges him. You could call it a crush, but she’d call it stupid, something that would only ruin the friendship, the one big good in her life, that she has with him. 

But now all bets are off. She’s got nothing to lose, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get the truth from him.

She knows him well enough by now to have a pretty good idea of where he stomped off to, and she doesn’t waste any more time standing around with a dumb look on her face, heading out of the bar and into the hazy light of the summer evening.

There’s a bench tucked away behind the stables, partially hidden by a small thicket of trees. A while ago, they had set it as their meeting place before patrol shifts, always getting there a few minutes early to set a plan for the day, or just to talk quietly before they had to head out. She had caught him there a few times on their days off too, an easy slump in his posture, his arms stretched out over the back of the bench. He told her he liked the quiet of it, and when she attempted to apologize for intruding, he had said that she couldn’t bother him if she even tried. It’s where she finds him now, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, though his eyes jerk up when she clears her throat.

“We gonna talk about what just happened?” He lets out a long sigh, sitting back on the bench and squinting up at her.

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, c’mon, Joel. You know I’m not gonna let this go, not until you talk to me.” With that, he gets up from the bench with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t have anything to say, except I’m sorry that my brother is such a fucking idiot.” She calls after him as he trudges away, but it’s no use, he doesn’t so much as look back over his shoulder at her. Knowing him as well as she does, she can easily tell when it’s time to stop prodding, when he’s shutting down and she won’t be able to get anything out of him, so she drops it, at least for now. 

She knows that they’re going to have to face whatever this is eventually, most likely the next morning when they’re set for a patrol shift together. With the hope of a clearer conversation on the horizon, she goes home, her mind still spinning from the strange evening. She lays awake in bed with her thoughts, the only conclusion she reaches being that she just wants the truth now, knowing that there will be no going back to the way things were, regardless of what he has to say.

When she gets to the bench the next morning, eyes bleary from a night without sleep, it becomes clear that Joel is going to make this more difficult than it has to be, as he is nowhere to be found. And he doesn’t show up either, not even when it’s time for their shift and she’s mounting up at the stables. She lets out a bitter laugh, though, when she sees who does show up.

“Did he send you down here?” Tommy huffs, leaning up against the door to the stables with a sheepish grin.

“Would you be less pissed at him if I said he didn’t?” 

“What? He ask for a new patrol partner already?” She knows it sounds harsh, but she doesn’t care, anger starting to feel like the appropriate response for how childish Joel seems to be acting. Tommy just sighs.

“Look, Sunshine, I feel awful for what I said last night. I was so fucking drunk I didn’t know up from down. But it’s true what I said. Reckon he thinks you hung the moon in the sky or some shit.” That makes her pause, but she stifles the kick of her heart with another scoff.

“What’s your point, Tommy? I have a shift to cover.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“Huh?” Tommy lets out a breathy laugh at her furrowed look.

“I’m covering your shift– figure I owe you both for messing shit up so bad. I got a buddy of mine coming down in a few to patrol with me, but you’re off the hook. And I think you oughta go talk to him.” 

“Joel made it pretty clear last night that he didn’t have anything else to say.” Tommy’s frown deepens at her clipped words, and he takes a few steps into the stables, leveling a surprisingly serious look at her.

“My brother is a stubborn ass, I won’t deny that. He doesn’t really like people, or feelings for that matter. But I know him well enough to see that he’s different around you. And maybe it’s selfish of me to say this, but you’re good for him, and I’ll be damned if the only reason you two don’t wind up together is my big fucking mouth.” His words stun her silent long enough for him to step forward and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Just go talk to him, please? If anyone can get through to him it’s you.”

…

He has to admit to himself that he was hoping, just a little bit, that it’d be her knocking on his front door, his chest tightening when he sees that it is. Though she doesn’t seem all too pleased to be looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest and an edgy arch to her brow.

“We gonna talk like adults now? Or are you gonna keep sending little Miller to do your bidding?” He knows this tone of voice. It’s the way she speaks to people, usually men, that she’d rather not give the time of day to. He’s always been amused by it, the stiff jerk of her chin, the eerie calm of her words. But it’s never been directed at him before, and suddenly there’s nothing amusing about it. 

“I– yeah, yes. Let’s talk.” Real smooth, dumbass. She doesn’t wait for him to open the door any wider, brushing right past him and into his living room before turning on her heel to look at him.

“Well, there’s no real way around this, is there?” Her question hangs between them, a drooping thread threatening to snap, though even now, they still move comfortably around each other, sitting down on opposite ends of the couch and mirroring each other’s posture, elbows on thighs, heads tilted toward the other. 

“Where do you wanna start, darlin?” She huffs out a laugh, more like an exasperated sigh as she looks at him, the steel gone, only a quirked worry left in its place.

“The truth– I want you to tell me the truth, Joel– about what Tommy said last night.” He figures he’s got nothing to lose at this point. That either way, whether he’s straight with her or not, their friendship isn’t ever going to be the same, so he takes a deep breath, and lets the words come rushing out. 

“He wasn’t wrong– I mean, what he said? It’s true, I feel– I, uh– I like the way I feel? When I’m around you? And, um– Jesus christ, what I’m trying to say is– I feel very– fondly toward you.” He’d like to disappear now, to dissolve and slip down beneath the floorboards so she’ll stop smiling at him like he just made a complete fool of himself, because he did. 

“You feel fondly toward me, huh?” And now she’s making fun of him, a light laugh on her lips as he grumbles at her question. But she’s quick to catch his despairing spiral, scooting over and placing a hand on his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to tease. But for the record, the feeling’s mutual.” Oh. He can feel his eyebrows shoot up at her words, and her grin broadens at his reaction.

“You mean– you– what’s that word? You mean platoni–” She’s kissing him. She’s kissing him and his brain is going blank but he doesn’t need to think, not really, moving like he knows, like he’s been waiting for this. She’s as stubborn as he is, and it shows in the way they struggle against each other, pulling on clothes to get closer, teeth clashing just a bit as she slips into his lap, pushing him back against the couch as he drags her as close as he can. When she does pull away, he doesn’t let her go far, his hand holding her steady by the hilt of her neck, breathless and smiling.

“No, I don’t mean platonically. Not at all.” And then she’s kissing him again, and it’s quickly becoming his favorite feeling, though the way her hips are pressed up against his is a close second. Joel is starting to realize that they share a few other things in common as well.

They both have a hard time keeping quiet, his low groans mixing and mingling with the pitchy sighs she looses in between kisses.

And they both seem to want to get impossibly closer, his nose mashing up against the slope of her cheek as she winds her arms over his shoulder blades, holding him chest to chest.

Where he tries to get the upper hand, licking into her mouth, squeezing at the swell of her thighs, she just does the same, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him just how she wants him as she ducks down to mouth at the arc of his neck.

Where he demands more, she’s happy to give, and to take in turn.

How they make it up the stairs and into his bedroom is beyond him, greedy hands peeling away clothes on the way up, leaving a trail of desire that they’ll have to trace later. 

She’s strong, just as strong as him, and she likes control, just as much as him, handily flipping them around on the bed so that she’s straddling him once again, leaving him wide-eyed and breathless at the sight of her. He’s got scars, and she does too, their hands running over the silvery marks, prayers that there won’t have to be anymore. Her bare cunt is a hot drag over his pelvis, and he’d like more than anything for her to shift her hips just a little lower, a little closer. But instead she ducks her head down, eyes flickering up to his as she lays a smear of kisses over his chest that begin to trail lower until she’s kneeling between his spread thighs. Joel thinks he just might die as he watches her spit into her hand before wrapping her palm around his throbbing cock, a hiss spilling between his teeth as she deftly sweeps her wrist up, her thumb swiping over his slit to smear the pooling pre-come there down his length.

“S’pretty, Joel. Prettier than I imagined.” He can’t help but groan at her words, scrunching his eyes shut and pressing his head back into the sheets.

“You– fuck– you thought about this, darlin? About me?” She smiles at his question, her lips just grazing the underside of him.

“Mmhmm, thought about you a lot. About this. We’re so alike, you and I. I couldn’t help but think that if anyone would be able to handle me, it’d be you.” And with that, she licks a salacious stripe up his length before taking him into the heat of her mouth.

“Christ– I  can– can handle you, darlin. Handle you however you want me to– fuck, that mouth of yours is a dream.” She hums at his praise, the vibration shooting straight down his cock as she bobs her head. It’s messy as hell, the slick sound of spit, her palm pressed flat against his stomach to hold him still, the drag of her tongue along his length, and the way her eyes stay on him, hooded and hazy under her lashes. 

“Thought about you too, y’know, like-like this.” His words make her stop for a moment, pulling off of him with a sigh, her hand picking up where she left off.

“And? Am I living up to your expectations?” Her words are lilted by her grin, and the sight of her lazily stroking his cock, her head tilted as she looks at him is nearly too obscene to be real.

“S’better– you’re so much better– fucking perfect.” It’s like he realizes all of a sudden how bad he wants to touch her, and then it’s all he wants, all he needs, coaxing her back up to meet in a kiss before rolling them over, swallowing the peel of laughter she lets out as he hovers over her. 

He wants to be the only one who gets her like this, the only one to hear her sighs, soft and melty in his sheets, sweet only for him as he swipes his fingers through her folds, dragging her pooling slick up to draw circles over her clit.

“So wet for me, darlin. S’just for me, huh?” Her chin jerks in a nod, whatever control she had now held in his hands, her hips canting up into his palm. 

“Just for you, Joel. All for you– please.” She doesn’t have to say anymore, he knows what she wants because it’s what he wants too. More. He presses two fingers inside of her, unable to stifle the groan he lets out at the feel of her cunt clenching around him, muffling the sound with a drag of kisses across her chest. She keens up into his touch, back arching when he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, tongue laving over the peak before letting his teeth just barely graze the delicate skin. And he learns her, all of her, the dips and swells of her body, the spot he can press against inside her that makes her brow crumple, the scrape of her nails down his back, the little whimpers she tries to silence, biting down on her lip, the way she tightens around his fingers when she’s close, and the broken sound of his name on her lips when she finally unravels for him, panting and twisting in pleasure. 

“That’s it, darlin. Feels good, huh? I did good for you?” Maybe it’s a little selfish, what he asks, but she’s happy to answer anyways.

“So good– did so good for me, Joel. Fuck, I really want you, baby.” He can feel the heat flushing up his face at her words, his mind going dizzy with the praise, and all he can do is give her what she wants, slotting his hips against hers and notching his leaking tip at her entrance. 

It’s unreal, it’s gotta be, the way she spreads open around him, close and pliant, her knee hitched up along his waist as he presses into her, both of them sighing at the stretch. For a moment, they’re still, just feeling each other, pressed so close, sweat-damp skin sticking from the contact, choppy exhales cooling down their shared heat. And then, Joel learns that they have something else in common. They both like their pleasure with just a tinge of pain.

It starts slow, the rock of his hips into hers, but she makes it clear with the press of her heel into his low back and her hand tugging in his hair that slow is the last thing she wants, and Joel is more than happy to oblige. The thump of the headboard against the wall, the slap of skin, harsh grunts and crackling moans twine around them, wrapping them up in a desperate symphony with each harsh grind of his hips against hers. 

He wants to leave marks, wants her to remember this when she runs her hands over the bruises he leaves, a purple and blue mosaic of where he touched her, where he wanted her most. And she seems intent on the same goal, nails scratching down his shuddering back, pulling him closer so she can mouth at his neck, her teeth nipping just a touch unkindly, making his eyes roll back from the sharp suggestion of pain. 

“Fuck, darlin– made just for me, huh? So good like this– wanna feel you like this– want you to gimme another one. Be so good for me, honey, c’mon.” 

…

All she wants is him. The hot drag of his cock inside her, his hips mashing up against hers, the heavy grip of his hand cupping her ass, pulling her hips up to meet his. His scruff, scraping against her chest, lips a smudge against her skin, each grunt a vibration that runs through her bones. The way he keeps her head from hitting the headboard with his forearm protectively curled there, holding himself up just enough to move his hips against hers, to look at her when she comes for a second time, spasming around him.

She feels like liquid beneath him, undone by pleasure, only vaguely aware of the breathy chant of please, please leaving her lips with each exhale. But he knows what she’s asking for, and Joel gives it to her, pulling out with a groan, his spend smearing across her heaving stomach as he pants over her. He flops down onto his stomach next to her with a sigh, one arm slung heavy over her waist, turned on his cheek to look at her. 

“Get you cleaned up in a minute– just need to not move right now– shit.” She has to laugh at his breathless exclamation, catching the crook of his grin out of the corner of her eye before turning onto her side to get a better look at him. Hair wild, sticking up all which ways, and cheeks flushed under his altogether boyish smile, she can’t help but lean in for a kiss that he gives up willingly to her. 

“Remind me again why we waited so long to do that?” That makes him laugh, squeezing her hip to pull her closer as he turns onto his side

“Because I was an idiot.” She hums at his answer, brushing his hair back out of his face before letting her palm settle along his scruff.

“It takes two, we were both idiots.” 

“Some pair we make, huh, darlin?” 

Some pair indeed.

[yongbokology]

eren finding out he’s been beating his dick to his best friend of ten years

part two

black coded reader <3

warnings; self explanatory, not proof read

this happened on a random friday night. eren had gotten home from one of the worst shifts he’s ever endured and needed to relieve some stress. for the past few months eren found himself frequently visiting one particular nsfw twitter account.

he found it a few months ago, same scenario, needed to relieve some stress yada yada.

after scrolling endlessly for the perfect video to get off to, his thumb comes to a complete stop once he sees you riding your pink dildo like your life depended on it. his volume was on max and the sounds that escaped your lips hit him like a freight train.

your ass faced him as you let out a string of obscenities. “f-fuck.” “ngh, shit!”

he found himself instantly tightening his grip on his cock and stroking himself to the rhythm of your hips working against your hot pink toy, covered in your orgasm.

your face was nowhere in sight but eren didn’t really give a fuck about what you looked like. he needed a quick fix and you were giving it to him.

before he knows it, he finds himself getting off to your videos almost every day.. abandoning pornhub completely and not checking for other nsfw accounts he was familiar with.

he doesn’t think about it in moment but one day your phone is perched in a way where he can see a little more than what you normally show. he sees the full canvas of your back but what really catches his eyes is the small birthmark on your shoulder. his eyes linger on it for a split second before putting all his focus back to getting his nut off.

…

“it’s hot as fucking balls, we should’ve came at like nighttime or some shit.” connie complains, fanning himself while being consumed by the scorching sun that peered down at the beach.

“relax it’s not supposed to be like this all day, con,” you reassure him, shrugging off your clothes in the process. you were for sure gonna get tan lines. “historia can you get my back with the sun screen please?”

eren was busying himself with helping reiner set up the beach tent but spared a quick glance at you while reiner was trying to fix the side he was holding. his brows knit together when he catches a glimpse of your birthmark. in the moment he doesn’t know why it throws him off. you’ve known each other for so long that it wasn’t his first time seeing it but something about it in that particular moments left him puzzled.

…

it’s another night, eren is once again in his lonesome with nothing better to cope with than fucking himself.

of course, he goes to your account and sees that you posted something two hours ago. he licks his lips in anticipation as he clicks on the video.

at this point he’s a minute in and already close to cumming. eren found himself cumming faster to you than he normally did with other partners he’s been with and he isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (he chalks it up to him being involuntarily celibate for months)

but during the 60 second mark he glances behind you and catches a glimpse of something just mere centimeters away from you. the checkered logo that eren saw literally almost everyday for the last two years.

it’s the hoodie of the autobody shop he worked at. he stops pumping his dick, panting heavily, on the brink of a beyond satisfactory orgasm. his eyes are nearly bulging out his head when you take the hoodie up to your nose and a soft moan flowing out your plush lips as you take a sniff of the fabric.

you stop riding your dildo, laying hoodie on a pillow, mounting said pillow and eren can’t even bring himself to fathom what happens next.

you begin grinding your wet cunt against the hoodie he’d lent to only one person.

in that moment eren just realized he’d been pleasuring himself for several months to his best friend that he’d known since forever and the worst part is? he nutted all over his phone without even finishing pumping his dick.

[jinkicake]

inappropriate affairs

Inappropriate places he likes to fuck you. 

Itto, Ayato, Thoma, Tighnari x Reader

A/N: I apologize in advance, this is not nearly as smutty as I wanted it to be. It takes me like 300 words to set up the scene and then I end up getting too lazy to finish it looooollllll,,, i’ll do better i promise (honestly this is not the first tighnari smut ive written.... i have an old draft from when he first came out where he chases you and then fucks you teehee)

WC - 2.3kish

SMUT // NSFW ((reader w a pussy))

~~~

Arataki Itto

“Itto, I swear to every archon that I will kick your ass.” Despite your threats, Itto continues to run his large hands along your sides. There’s a heavy grin spread across his lips as he cups your hip and brings you between his spread thighs. You tightly grip the bars of your cell but your strength is no match for an oni’s. 

Yes, a cell since Itto landed the two of you in jail again.

“Easy there,” He laughs loudly, shoulders shaking as his head tilts back against the stone wall of the empty establishment. Ushi moos loudly outside the window, no doubt spilling where every and any exit is to escape from. “don’t be mad at me, pretty-”

You forcefully slap his hand away, swatting at his wrist with a wave of anger that rivals the electricity cracking above from the clouds. 

“Ushi, go stay with Kuki.” You whisper yell through the open window covered with bars that you can’t fit through. The cow gives you a determined nod before wandering off to where the rest of the gang must be. You would also be there if Itto had kept his hands to himself. “We are here because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, you understand that, right?” Itto nods eagerly and you can tell that he isn’t listening to a word you are saying. He’s staring intensely at you, more specifically at your arms crossed over your chest. If only the leader would have been staring at the officials in front of you instead of your ass then neither of you would have been caught and placed in this predicament. 

It’s hard to remain angry as you glare at your boyfriend, you have some sort of idea about what it’s like being distracted by obscene clothing. But, your shorts are nothing compared to his bare abdomen on display every single day. Even now, you find it difficult not to let your eyes drop to his defined muscles and the large tent forming in his pants. 

“If we fuck right now, you better stay quiet.” Just like all of your threats to the oni, this one went completely in one ear and out the either. 

“Archons, Itto, shut up!” You screech as the large man plows you from behind. Your grip on the iron bars of the cell starts to falter as his thick cock penetrates deep into your cunt. It’s a miracle that you can even stand up straight with the way your legs are shaking. Itto is in his own world as loud moans spill past his lips and ricochet off the walls. Like all things about him, Itto is loud (especially so during sex). His intense thrusts and fast pace causes the entire holding to shake and in the back of your mind, you fear that the whole place is going to come crumbling down. That would be one way to exit. 

“Can’t help it,” Itto grunts as his hands tighten on your hips, his head falls back as his balls slap against your ass. The sharp pain makes him wince and ultimately brings him more pleasure than before. “fuck, baby.” With how he is already groaning, you know Itto will cum soon. You don’t think about the consequences of it, not about how his cum is going to leak out of your cunt and dry between your thighs or how you’ll have to face public officials with his cum spilling down your legs.

You’re never going to get out of here. 

Kamisato Ayato

“I’m bored. Let me have my fun, darling,” Ayato will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. He’s impossibly stubborn and has a burning desire that only you can satisfy.

 But, you can only calm him down so many times per day.

“Your next meeting starts in twenty minutes, I am not trying this right now,” You snap and push away his wandering hands. It will take you at least ten minutes to get your kimono situated properly once again after the damage Ayato has currently done to it. He longs to touch your thighs, hold and squeeze the delicate sums of flesh.

“Thoma, bring in a blanket for the kotatsu.” Ayato in the end always gets what he desires. “It’s quite cold today, isn’t it?” His innocent smile doesn’t go over your head and you watch him with a stern glare as he innocently drinks from his cup.

Thoma greets the two of you with a warm smile and announces the arrival of whom you’ll be spending the next meeting with. The thick blanket is spread across the large table, covering your body from the waist down but Ayato makes no move to turn the heater on.

It comes as no surprise when you feel his touch on your ankle a handful of minutes later. The boring meeting has just begun and he’s starting off with innocent touches. You make it a point to ignore him and try to focus on the commissioner in front of you. Ayato’s gentle strokes of his fingers turn into sensual rubs, a touch that you know all too well. The pads of his fingertips are soft and the pressure is almost like a phantom touch that you would know even through the darkest nights. You know exactly what Ayato is touching in his mind and the innocent look he sends your way does little to calm you down.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek hard to hide the insult resting on your tongue. Ayato’s fingers continue their trip up your legs and between your thighs. When he finally gets to the soft flesh, he gently squeezes with his strong fingers. You know he wants to sigh in relief and react dramatically for the sake of amusing you. For once, you hand it to your husband for being able to remain so calm. 

He remains stoic the entire time he drags his finger between your folds, even when his middle digit flicks your clit back and forth just to see you squirm. You wish you could punch him. There is no way you can hide how you’re squirming and no amount of tightly pulling your thighs together can get him to stop. Every time you do something he doesn’t like, Ayato teasingly dips his finger into your entrance. He gives you a breath of relief before ripping it away to taunt you again. It’s a miracle you haven’t started to pant. 

You can’t focus on the meeting anymore or what the commissioner is saying. You try to ground yourself with your drink, to wet your throat but even that is impossible as Ayato brings another finger to rub your clit. The pads of two of his fingers cover much more than just one and your hips shift to grind back against them. 

“Commissioner, I’m terribly sorry to cut this meeting short but I just remembered I have something I have to finish,” Ayato announces and glances your way, letting your eyes meet as a smirk takes up his face.

Your husband is on you the second the door closes and signals the other man’s departure. 

Thoma

The Komori Tea House is surprisingly empty, today is a slow afternoon. You find that along with Thoma, you’re the only two people inside the house.

Even Taromaru is out and about, most likely doing something for the Kamisatos. 

It’s no surprise that you start to get handsy with your boyfriend after discovering this revelation. 

“We can’t!” Thoma whispers, quietly exclaiming his pleas while trying to push your hands away. “Not here, what if someone comes back?” There is some admiration in his restraint, it almost makes you a little envious. 

“Then we’ll stop when we hear them,” You breathe against his throat, lips ghosting over his collarbone. Thoma starts to squirm under your touch and nearly backs up against the wall. There’s an empty space in his lap with your name on it. “we can stop, can’t we, Thoma?” The housekeeper swallows dryly, he can’t guarantee that he could get his hands off of you once he finally starts to touch you. Not even Raiden herself could pull the two of you away from one another. “I know I could,”

The hand you had been teasing him with leaves his thigh to rest on his abdomen as you lean over in his lap. You bring yourself to your knees to level your faces and Thoma fears his heart might be beating out of his chest. He turns into nothing but a puddle of mush when you tease him too much. 

However, if you tease him just enough then his restraint will snap like a flimsy string. That’s exactly what you’re looking for today.

“Come on, Thoma,” Your murmur of his name becomes muffled with a kiss as you push your lips against his own, placing the softest amount of pressure. Beside you, Thoma’s hands turn into fists against the tatami floors and his shoulders begin to lightly shake. 

Through the kiss, he becomes much more responsive. Thoma starts to kiss you back with fervor, it’s an intensity that pushes you back against the floor with him crawling over top of you. One of his hands holds your wrist above your head while the other loosely grips your jaw. You don’t have any complaints, and if you did then Thoma would be sure to swallow them all. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the cool feeling of his necklace against your throat. He licks you clean, inserting his tongue into your mouth for a messy kiss that makes you roll your hips up to meet his own. You gasp and whine once you feel his touch through his tight slacks.

“We’re doing this here?” He pulls away to clarify, panting against your lips as he lowers his body to completely cover your own. “You really want to take me here?” Thoma’s hands become just as seductive as your own once were, and trail up your sides to cup your breasts. His eyes darken at the sight held within his palms and the sweet smile you’re used to seeing on his face is covered with a serious stare. 

Oh, he’s going to fuck you so good.

In the empty Komori tea house, Thoma will have you screaming his name so loudly that anyone outside can hear. He’ll fuck you against the floor, the table, even the thin walls of the house. He knows you’ll be good for him the entire time since you were the one who started this. You have to take responsibility for what you’ve caused him to do. 

Tighnari

“Are we seriously doing this out here?” Anxiety floods throughout your body as you glance over your shoulder to look at Tighnari. The same Tighnari who is currently undressing you. His delicate hands roughly pull and tug at your jacket until the offending piece of clothing falls to the forest floor. “Tighnari,”

Despite your protests, the man continues his advanced work. 

“I don’t see anyone around, what’s the harm?” His snappy tone only ushers you to move faster with removing your shorts. 

“I’m leaving my shirt on,” You bite back and Tighnari rolls his eyes at the dramatics, purposely yanking on your shirt for emphasis. “really?” The grass underneath you is soft as your research partner pushes you on your back. Gently, he lowers you to the ground before situating himself between your thighs.

“Let’s just get this settled and then move on, okay?” His ears flatten on his head as blood pumps through his veins, he needs you so badly. It’s a miracle that his body hasn’t started to shake with the primal urge to fuck you (not that he can control it). “I’m eating you out first,”

“Are you kidding me?” You barely have the time to refuse, to spit all the curses that you have saved for him before Tighnari lowers himself between your thighs. “We don’t have time for this!” Despite your screeches and protests, he ignores you. Tighnari wholeheartedly ignores you as his mouth waters at the sight of your bare cunt. He can barely help himself.

His tail whips around before wrapping your your ankle, ultimately pulling your leg over his shoulder to keep you still in place. 

As much as he hates to admit it, there are some instances where Tighnari needs your help. There are instances where his hand just does not do what it is supposed to do and he craves the touch of his sweet partner. Being Tighnari’s personal cum bucket was not in your job description as fellow forest watcher but, you very quickly learned to love it. You have yet to understand his obsession with pleasuring you when it’s his own needs he should be satisfying but, you don’t really want to know his reasonings. If it has anything to do with the enamored way he looks at you while fucking your brains out, you want no part in it. 

“Archons,” You fist your hands in the grass at the feeling of his adamant tongue diving between your folds, his licks increase in intensity no matter how loud you get. In some way, you’re sure that Tighnari eats you out for himself. He enjoys himself too much while pleasuring you, his eyes shut and he looks to be in an utter state of bliss as he dips his tongue into your cunt. His moans rival your own, gentle and quiet in their own way but still loud enough that the sounds ring in your ears. 

On top of his head, his ears flick in content as you pull on his straight hair. It makes him act messier with you, sucking on your folds just for show before flicking your clit back and forth with his tongue. 

Tighnari wants you to cum, he needs you to cum just as badly as he needs to cum himself. 

His gloved hands keep your thighs spread apart so he can continue to work his touch against your clit, sucking and lathering the swollen bud with his spit before kissing it in a way that makes the pit of your stomach drop. 

The entire time, you ignore the word ‘mate’ that constantly drops from his lips.

[st-danger]

i am BEGGING to hear about swiss ruining phantom's orgasm

It's cruel, Swiss is aware. Needlessly, some might say. Needlessly mean when he's done nothing to deserve it, when Aeon's followed all his instructions and been such a good listener for him. When he's trembled and sweat for him and allowed Swiss to hurt him in a very particular way by denying him repeatedly.

"Swiss," Aeon croaks, and if Swiss had more of a heart, maybe he could be swayed. Aeon grabs onto his shoulder, hand noticeably shaking. "Please," he whines, looking so small and so vulnerable naked and clutching to him this way. "It hurts."

Swiss dips down and places a soft kiss on his cheek. In his hand, he feels Aeon throb. The heat of him.

"Need it bad, huh?"

Aeon gulps down some air, and nods.

Swiss tightens his hand and begins to jerk him in short, hard pulls. The reaction is immediate, a nervous whine mixing with the slick wet noise of Aeon's cock being stroked in earnest. Pre and lube and spit- it's all there, and the poor thing is so shiny with it all. The head flushed dark, veins prominent. No wonder he says it hurts now. Again- if Swiss had a heart, and if Aeon didn't get off on this treatment the way he does, he might be more forgiving. Aeon's dissolving now, eyes screwed shut, chewing on his lip. Hips trying to thrust up to meet Swiss's hand, though it's a pathetic attempt. He can't even keep a rhythm. No coordination. Just lost to the sensation and some of the neediest Swiss has ever seen him.

"That good?" Swiss asks, like he doesn't know. Aeon nods yes anyway, tries looking at Swiss's hand, seems to realize that's a mistake, and his head presses back into the bed, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other pawing at Swiss. His balls are drawn up so tight and small, the muscles in his abdomen jumping when he gives his hand a twist around the end. "This what you needed?"

"Uh huh," Aeon breathes.

"Want me to make it cum?" Swiss asks and delights in the answering moan. "You gonna let me squeeze it all out of you?" Swiss can feel him getting even harder, so close to shooting. So close to satisfaction. "Go on and tell me."

"Make it cum," Aeon wheezes, sounding like he might pass out against the backdrop of the obscene skin on skin. "Please make it cum, I need-"

One more twist of his hand and Aeon tenses and gasps, body jerking forward and Swiss wishes he could have a video of this next part. Photographic evidence he can revisit later whenever he wants. His spine arches, and his little toes curl.

"Oh- fuck," Aeon grits out, "makin' me- oh, you're- gonna cum, gonna cum." Entire body so tense. Leaking out a few more blurts of pre for good measure, so wet it's almost slimy.

Swiss gives the head an extra little rub, and Aeon gasps when he lets go.

"Oh- no," Aeon says, frantic, terrified. "No, don't, don't- oh no- no," he repeats, and struggles to touch Swiss, to look down at his cock and realize what he's about to endure.

It's too late.

His cock, his red and aching cock straining up into nothing, desperate for relief, bounces and without any further help, any further stimulation to make the what he's had to endure bearable or maybe even worthwhile- Swiss tickles his sack, all tight and sensitive, and his poor dick wags around and pulses all over his belly, spits his load out wherever it wants with no hand to guide it.

Aeon sobs and Swiss is there to lick the horrible, frustrated tears off his cheek after, while he continues to quiver and cry.

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 1: The Spider Man

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: smut, oral (m receiving) cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick.

You stood outside the restaurant for a moment, staring at the dark night sky.

What just happened?!

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill over as you grind your teeth for a moment, practicing self control over your overwhelming upset and hurt. Was that even legal?

You sniffled and balled your fists. Fuck this guy, with his expensive looking suit and obvious God Complex.

You muttered obscenities as you walked home, not getting in the car and waiting like he ordered you to. Fucking ordered!

Two blocks down and you sighed, getting to the subway and finding a train to take you to your apartment, located in a less-than-safe part of Nueva York. But you didn’t care, you could take care of yourself.

Eyes tired from holding back your need to cry, you walked up a few flights of stairs to your floor, you convinced yourself it was good exercise. Twisting your key in the somewhat broken lock, you pushed into your doorway and slammed it shut behind you with the deadbolt.

That’s when the dam broke and the water works started. You’d gotten so lucky with such a great job, and now some power-drunk prick with a nice face ruined it without a solid reason.

He didn’t like you, so he decided to hire you? What backwards bullshit was that?

Not bothering to take your makeup off, you pulled off your clothing and slumped into bed with no plans of doing anything tomorrow morning. It was going to be a day to process and plan your next move.

Loud banging on your door made you fall out of bed, practically jumping out of your skin as the sudden thunderous sound was terrifying without warning. Grabbing your baseball bat from your coat closet, you tugged your hair into a messy bun and swung the door open.

“You’re late.” The big guy from last night? “And you apparently don’t answer your phone either.” His voice was unamused, blunt, and you didn’t care for it.

“How the fuck did you-“ you yelled, then remembering that apparently he was close to Peter, who had all of your information from hiring you. “You’re a sick fuck, now you’re stalking me?”

“Watch it, I’ll fire you.”

“I don’t wanna work for you, now leave!” You screamed and moved to slam the door, only to be stopped by a large hand holding it back. Miguel opened the door with a swift push and you stumbled backwards, caught off guard and off balance from his strength. It was like he was barely moving a cup, not even moving a muscle.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to work for me, and I always get what I want.” He spoke, stepping inside of your small apartment. “Now get dressed, so you can get to work.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spit back at him with venom you didn’t know you hate. You hated him. “Go find some other girl to obsess over and creep out.” You continued and swung the bat, him catching the wood and staring down at you.

“Obey me and I’ll reward you generously.”

“I’m not your dog, I don’t need to ‘obey’ you!” You groaned out as you yanked the bat backwards.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year plus bonuses when you complete certain tasks.” He spoke almost too fast.

The words passed by your ears in a blurt as white-hot rage filled your mind. The devil and angel on your shoulder fought and you didn’t know which one was fighting for what.

“Fine. Three hundred thousand a year. Bonuses, access to our facilities, a new phone, and an apartment on the west side.” He added.

“What the hell will I be doing? You don’t even know if I’m qualified, or if I’m a normal person. I could be a murderer.”

“That’s doubtful, as you couldn’t even hit me with a bat, and I’ve seen all I needed to. You’re most definitely qualified.” He answered, still offending you in a strange way. “Now get ready. I’m late because of you, and if I weren’t the boss, I’d rat you out.” He fixed his suit and sat in one of your dining chairs, the squeak of its legs making him scrunch his eyebrows in annoyance.

You huffed and moved, accepting that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll call the cops.”

“That won’t work. La policía and I have an understanding.” It seemed like nothing was working and he knew it. “Are you done?”

Maybe if you played along for a bit, he’d get the idea and fuck off. Grumbling, you trudged into your bedroom.

“So what will I be doing?” You called to him as you went to your closet and pulled out a random blue dress shirt and black pants.

“You’ll be my right hand. Like an assistant but much more involved. You’ll work closely with my second, Lyla, and head operator, Jess.” He gave a full debriefing as you slipped on the clothes and moved towards the bathroom. “I’ll send a few of my men to help you move tonight, I don’t need you getting jumped out here in the slums.” He spoke with a certain disgust in his tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Your men? Second? Are we in a war or something?” You laughed, but he was quiet. No sense of humor, noted.

“Something like that.” His voice was lower, almost like it was a secret he didn’t want anyone around him to hear except you.

“Not that I care, but why me?” You brushed your teeth and waited for his answer, but nothing came. “Hello?”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Just know that I will not accept your refusal. You will work for me.” His speech was almost flattering, if he weren’t so infuriating. You dotted on some makeup and walked out to meet him. Slipping on a pair of low, black heels, he was already at the door. “Let’s go.” He nodded and opened your front door once more before walking ahead of you into the elevator. You hurried behind and almost missed the door as he stuck a hand through to stop them from closing. Your eyes didn’t meet him, avoiding having to thank him for such a small gesture of kindness after all the rudeness you’d endured. “And by the way, they call me Spider Man.” He said calmly as the doors shut and suddenly, your pounding blood was in your ears.

Spider man…?

As in… the most dangerous Mafia leader in Nueva York? The leader of the O’Hara family and the rumored Spider Society? A man infamous for murdering people with his bare hands, constructing some of the greatest hits on politicians and leaders all over the state?

Your body turned cold as you began to sweat. You were in the presence of a man known for being a brutal killer and a money-hungry demon who ruthlessly destroyed lives.

And he wanted you.

The trip to his headquarters was silent, sweating nervously as all of the rumors you’d heard about him came back to you. How he once almost killed a fifteen year old because he “ran out on a tab,” but luckily Peter paid it for the poor boy. Now, apparently, that same boy works for him. Peter told you the story on your first day, how some of the Spider Society frequented their restaurant, but it never occurred to you that this was him.

You remembered Gwen telling you over drinks after your first shift about how a lot of the staff of your restaurant had once been or still were low ranking members of the Society. You had said you just wanted to make your money and get on with your day, to which she laughed and said “that’s how I was too.” You left the conversation there and talked about other things, but now you couldn’t stop repeating her words over and over.

It was like the city was overrun by Spiders, all answering to the Spider Man himself. A man you were currently trapped in a moving vehicle with. A man you knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you even so much as messed up his coffee order.

Nothing felt real as your leg bounced with anxiety. Sure, you’d always been mouthy and stubborn, but the idea that those small flaws could have made you a target for him, it was almost too much to understand.

“Hello?” He called out and you turned your face to him. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about… what I have to pack tonight.” You lied, to which it was obvious he didn’t believe you, but he ignored it anyway.

“I was saying, when we get there, I have a meeting with a few of my subordinates. I need you to stay and listen. Lyla will be recording the meeting, but you just need hear it and start understanding everything. It won’t be hard, but it might be a lot so pay attention, entiendes?” He spoke and you nodded. “Once the meeting is over, I’ll introduce you to Jess and she’ll give you a tour of the building and your office. You’ll be working a room over from me. While that’s going on, I have an appointment, and once that’s over, I’ll start explaining the rest of your work.” His words felt unreal, like you were having an outer body experience. Nothing could have prepared you for this and now you were thrown into his web with no way out. Was the universe playing some sick joke on you? Throw you into the arms of a cold blooded killer and laugh about it later?

The numbness in your bones began to settle in and you sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long day.

Walking into a bustling lobby, your eyes were overwhelmed with an excitement you couldn’t help to feel. The smell of clean air, the crisp modern design, everything screamed class and high end. Almost as if this wasn’t a den of crime and murder. Who would let a kingpin rent such a beautiful and upscale building? And didn’t mafia bosses usually do business out of their homes or secret offices hidden behind a bookshelf?

Ok, maybe you watched too many movies…

No, this was the next level of an efficiently run business. Everyone looked focused and intelligent, some seeming like they were educated at an Ivy League college or politically invested.

You followed the largest man and watched as everyone parted to make way for him, scanning him and then dropping their gaze to you.

You, who looked so out of place and childlike next to the refined crowd.

Your name broke you from your trance and you bumped into Miguel, who was no longer walking. “Stop looking around like a lost puppy. I hired you because of your fire and bite, now bring her back or I’ll toss you back out of here on your ass.” His threat was obvious, and you puffed up your chest after he turned around.

He was somewhat right. You belonged here, you got here by accident and that had to count for something. Other people around you seemed like they wanted to be here, strived for their positions and fought to climb up the latter. Meanwhile, you didn’t even want your position and you got it because of your loud mouth. As much as you hated this all, you knew that some of the roughest and cruelest human beings stood in this building, but he decided to pick you.

“But we will need to buy you new clothes if you’re going to work here. I don’t want to see you in anything less than a thousand dollars. Is that clear?” He said as you two walked into the elevator.

“And where am I getting these thousands of dollars from? You got me fired.” You grumbled, annoyed at his arrogance and assumptions.

“I’ll have Lyla put it as a tax write-off and give you a company card. Your limit is fifty thousand, and you’ll only shop at places from a list she’ll give you.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, barely even seeming like he was speaking to you. What a dick. You rolled your eyes and he glanced downward, a brow quirked upwards. “And save that attitude for the meeting. Everyone here is cut-throat, and you’re here to give them a humbling piece of your mind. I don’t do politically correct-ness. If you think it, say it. The only person you need to answer to is me, and I want you to give some of these sons of bitches a good verbal beat down. If they get out of line, I’ll give them something to really be scared of, so don’t hold back.” His words seemed to hold weight as the elevator doors opened once more and people separated like the Red Sea to let him and you through. Catching up to walk by his side instead of behind him, you kept a straight face and put your shoulders back.

Reaching your new office was exhilarating, seeing as you hated the situation, but began hating everything less and less. Miguel had been right about the meeting, ignoring what everyone else said as you sat and listened to him discuss plans for a new import deal and a possible new business venture. His words were sharp and sliced through everyone in the room, so there wasn’t much room for conversation as most of the people in the room didn’t want to pull the trigger and be the target. You nodded along and made mental notes, adding certain ideas to your cavalry and deciding between when to speak up or not to.

After that, he’d introduced you to Jess and Lyla, who both seemed too kind and cheery to be in this business. How could such funny and smiley women work for a man with so much blood on his hands?

Jess gave you a proper tour as Lyla followed and made snarky comments about certain people, places, and things. Often times, they were about Mr. O’Hara and every time, it made Jess snort with laughter. The three of you talked and laughed, even trading phone numbers with both of them. Lyla excused herself when she was summoned to the fourth floor for a call about a transport, and you and Jess finished the tour back at your office. She showed you briefly how to use your new computer and tablet, both of which had a schedule that you, Lyla, and Mr. O’Hara could see and edit.

“Alright, I have a gynecologist appointment in 30 minutes, so I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, but call me if you have any questions.” She waved and you gave her a goodbye before beginning to type up some of those mental notes from the meeting, sharing them with Miguel’s email to add him in and let him look.

An hour went by and you heard a ding on your tablet, signaling a private meeting in Miguel’s office that had started 20 minutes ago. You rushed, seeing as you didn’t get the notification earlier and now we’re late. Pushing open his office door, you blinked at the sight in front of you and gulped down a new feeling. Dread. Embarrassment. Pure fucking confusion and unshakable mortification.

A woman, thin and blonde, had her back to the door and was kneeling before Miguel. Hands on his thighs as he spread his legs, she bobbed her head up and down as he had both of his arms around the expanse of the couch, head back a bit in enjoyment.

The shock finally settled into humiliation and you felt your stomach lurch with anxiety. He must have heard you step backwards as his eyes opened to stare into yours, an unreadable expression on his face. You shifted your thighs, moving to take another step as your face burned with a blush that could rival most makeup brands. Eyes as wide as saucers, you kept eye contact with him to avoid watching the woman’s mouth move up and down his cock. And he didn’t dare look away either.

He slipped a hand from the back of the couch to her hair and shoved her head down a bit, making her gag, and as the sound reached your ears, you choked a bit in sympathy. He hissed out a soft ‘good girl’ and you felt drool pool on your tongue, closing your mouth before it could drip out. He fucked up into her mouth as his eyes stayed on yours and before you could register it, he was groaning with a tight jaw and finishing. She sputtered as he came down her throat and as the realization of what you’d walked in on had hit you, you’d spun on your heels and slammed the door shut behind you.

Hands shaky, you wobbled back to your own office and sat in your chair, hands holding up your head as if it were too heavy to stay upright on its own.

What the fuck is going on?

Prologue Chapter 2

[poppy-metal]

Poppy I’m gnawing at my enclosure still thinking about bsf!Patrick going back to normal after fucking your brains out. Like texts you next day asking if you wanna get pizza later and talking about his tennis match with his mouth full. He doesn’t bring it up, doesn’t even try to flirt with you aside from his normal banter. Just continues about like you’re not thinking about getting your legs up on his shoulders. You feel like a fein. You’re starting to understand all the other girls that are obsessed with him.

So, you start scheming. Showing up to tennis matches in barely nothing. Lounging in your room together in a skimpy t-shirt and your tiniest shorts. You even go as far as to lean over him and order your own food at the drive thru just so he has open view of your tits and still NOTHING.

And, of course, he fucking notices. Notices when you start showing up with shorter skirts and no underwear as you bend over to pick something up. Notices the way you brush against him every chance you get, putting your body on display for him as if he isn’t already jacking off at least twice a day. And he’s trying not to slut you out but you’re making it so fucking hard. For Christ’s sakes you’re his fucking best friend. What would it make him if he fucked you again.

But you’re determined, scheming. If he wants to play it that way, two can play that game.

I’m imagining it boils over at some stupid party Art dragged you two to. You’re dressed in something skimpy, tits out and the shortest skirt you can find. You’re making flirty conversation with some guy, pushing your boobs up on him as you lean up to whisper in his ear. Patrick is shooting daggers your way the entire time, clearly paying no attention to the girl he’s talking to. You ignore him, dancing filthily against the boy who has hands gripping any piece of skin he can find. The tequila shots are kicking in and you’re feeling a little reckless as you shove your tongue down his throat, grip him through his shorts, hoping Patrick has full view. You’re two seconds away from having the guy— did you ever even ask his name?— shoving his hands up your skirt before you being pulled away by an aggressive hand on your arm.

Patrick is fuming as he drags you through the party. God, what the fuck was even going on? You were just gonna let that fucking dork finger you in the middle of the floor. He can’t take it anymore as he shoves you into the nearest closet, shucking your tiny skirt up and bullying his thick cock inside you. It’s obscene the way his balls plap plap plap against your ass, fucking you hard into the shelves, fingers in your mouth to shut you up. “Jesus, if you wanted this dick so fucking bad why didn’t you just ask?”

need best friend patricks dick so bad at this point - need him so deep in it talking about how his best friends pussy is so tight, grips him so fucking good - yeah, you're a real good friend, so much that he keeps coming back to dip his dick back in because he can't stop thinking about that wet sucking warmth around his cock. doesn't need to be anything complicated or dramatic or something that'll inevitably end in heartbreak on one end or maybe on both ends, definitely doesn't need to be that, definitely won't be that - you're just taking care of eachother. like good friends do <3

a good friend with a warm little pussy for patrick zweig <3 what a gig.

[malk1ns]

this post and its tags gave me brainworms that i had to purge so that i can properly focus on SGE for the next month, so…

overstimulation, forces orgasm, and crying during sex. blame @yabagofmilfs. i hope you like it!

It’s too hot in the bedroom.

Sid’s lake house in Nova Scotia is usually cool—breeze blowing in off the water and big trees shading over the roof and the patio mean that it stays comfortable even on warm days. Sid keeps the AC on for the sake of the gym, but it’s set to 70, otherwise it gets too cold when the sun is down.

The humidity this week has been oppressive, though, and the air still, and even with the thermostat bumped down to 68 the second floor of the house is too warm, especially in the bedroom with its south-facing windows that get sunlight all day.

“Sid,” Zhenya gasps. His vision feels foggy, just as humid as the shimmering air over the lake outside, blurring at the edges. The wood paneling on the ceiling looks warped, and Zhenya’s breath feels hot as he pants. “Please, Sid, can’t.”

“You can,” Sid says, voice almost kind. “At least one more, bud, I know you’ve got it in you.” He crooks his fingers and rubs, and Zhenya jolts, but he can’t tell if he’s moving towards or away from the touch.

He’s sore. Sid’s been fingering him for what must be hours now, the slow maddening buildup he prefers when it’s the offseason and he has time to spread Zhenya out over beds across North America and Europe and really take his time, and Zhenya’s already come twice; the first one so gradual he was begging for relief by the time Sid relented and jerked him to completion, and the second one so quickly after it almost hurt.

And Sid’s not done yet. Not by a long shot.

“Are you crying?” Sid asks, and Zhenya blinks, trying to focus. Sid’s moving, keeping his hand where it is but stretching alongside Zhenya on the mattress, studying his face. “You are. Already?” The press of his fingers against Zhenya’s prostate is brutal and unrelenting, and Zhenya feels pinned under Sid’s regard. “You know you’ll thank me for it later.”

“No,” Zhenya says, rolling his neck so he’s facing away from Sid. He’s shivering like he’s cold, thighs shaking as Sid works him over, and the lazy sweeps of the ceiling fan do nothing do relieve the heat. “No, don’t, you—”

“Shh,” Sid says softly, dropping a kiss on Zhenya’s shoulder, and then he pulls his fingers free.

Zhenya whines, clenching around nothing, overwhelmed at how empty he feels, but then Sid’s hands are on him, rolling him onto his side and pressing up against him. Sid runs hot, and their bodies skin-to-skin like this is almost too unbearable.

The sound of Sid slicking up his dick with lube is almost obscene in the quiet room; Sid always uses so much, always groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt when he gets a hand on himself, and all Zhenya can do is squirm as he waits.

His whole lower half feels like it’s throbbing, like a bruise he can’t stop pressing on, like the place a tooth used to be that he can’t stop tonguing. His dick is barely hard, smeared with come at the head from his first two orgasms, but when Sid slides into Zhenya’s body, barely giving him time to adjust to the stretch, it twitches, sending a shockwave of pleasurepain up Zhenya’s spine.

“Stop,” he sobs, but he doesn’t mean it, and Sid knows that, gentling him with a hand on his stomach.

Sid feels enormous inside him. Zhenya’s oversensitive, and every pass of Sid’s cock over his prostate, every thrust, makes him shiver and shake in Sid’s arms.

He cries out when Sid’s hand closes around his dick. It’s too much, surely he can’t again, but then Sid’s stroking him, pressing murmured words into his back as he runs his fingers up and down Zhenya’s shaft, squeezing at the head the way Zhenya likes.

Zhenya sobs as he hardens in Sid’s grasp.

“Attaboy,” Sid grunts. “C’mon, let me see it. You can do it, baby, give it to me.” His hand tightens past the point of pleasure, and Zhenya wails and tries to curl into a ball as he comes. It feels like something is being ripped out of him, and his dick hurts, twitching through an orgasm that’s almost entirely dry.

Almost, but not quite.

“You’ve still got some left,” Sid says, lifting his hand and pressing his fingers to Zhenya’s lower lip. Zhenya opens his mouth obediently, letting Sid feed him his own come. “Gotta get it all out or you’ll just be begging for it later. Hold still, baby, and I’ll take care of you.” He pulls his fingers free and gets a hold of Zhenya’s hip, holding him hard enough to bruise as he fucks into him harder, panting hotly against Zhenya’s neck and practically flattening him forward into the bed. He’s not gentle, he’s not careful, and all Zhenya can do is lie there and take it.

“Fuuuuck,” Sid finally groans, hips stuttering forward as he comes. Zhenya can feel Sid’s balls against his own, and Sid’s sweat is dripping off his chest down Zhenya’s back. They’re disgusting, and Zhenya wants to marinate in how this feels all day.

Sid stays in him until he can’t, letting his dick slip out with a sound that makes Zhenya want to hide. He sounds sloppy—loose—wet with lube and come and fucked open by Sid’s fingers and his dick. When Sid rolls him onto his stomach and parts his cheeks to get a better look, Zhenya tries to kick him away, but his legs are heavy and tingling.

“Nice,” Sid says, voice low and dirty and appreciative. “You look pretty sore, bud.”

Zhenya lets himself relax. Three times in one morning is surely enough; now, Sid will go get a washcloth and some lotion, and he’ll clean Zhenya up and give him a massage, and then they’ll go lie out on the deck in the shade until Zhenya feels human enough to shower.

“I better kiss it better,” Sid says instead, and the touch of his tongue to Zhenya’s used hole is so sharply good that all Zhenya can do is writhe and press his poor, abused dick into the mattress and hope Sid finishes him off quickly.

[bullet-prooflove]

Graffiti: David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

The first time David Hale meets you, he arrests you for spray painting a dick on your ex’s house. You’ve just finished off the balls when he slaps the cuffs on your wrists and escorts you to the police car with a smile because truthfully he takes pleasure in seeing Jax Teller so pissed off.

“You have impressive attention to detail.” He tells you with an amused expression as he starts the engine. “You could probably make it as an artist if you applied yourself.”

You laugh because that’s exactly what you do when you’re not drawing dicks or writing expletives on someone’s front door.

“Did you love him?” He asks, glancing in the mirror as he takes the scenic view to the station. You’re a refreshing change from the crowd he’s usually arresting on a Friday night. You’re entirely sober to start with and a complete spitfire.

“No.” You say as you look out of the window and stare out at the passing trees. “I just don’t appreciate him telling the rest of the group how I like to get fucked and inviting them to take a ride.”

He feels his jaw clench just a little when he hears that. It isn’t a secret that the club shares their women, that they’re nothing more than a commodity. You don’t seem like a croweater, they wouldn’t risk their status by doing something like graffitiing a dick on the house of the Vice President. He thinks you just got caught up in the allure of Jax Teller, the same way so many other young women have.

It’s about a mile away from the station that he decides to let you go. He doesn’t think you’ll be returning to the club anytime soon, you’ve made your point by tagging Teller’s house, he doesn’t think he’ll see any more trouble from you. He lets the car idle for a second under a streetlight before he steps outside and opens your door for you.

“Stay away from Teller.” He warns you as he undoes the cuffs on your wrists. “I’m not going to jam you up tonight but if I catch you at it again, it’ll be a different story.”

The next time you see each other is at a bar out of town, he goes there sometimes when he wants to be anonymous. Charming is a small town, everyone knows his face. He can barely go two steps down Main Street without someone complaining about their neighbour feeding the squirrels. Being away from that, it gives him mental space, allows him to breathe.

You look different when you slip into the stool alongside of him, your hair’s a little shorter, your makeup a little lighter. He likes the look, it suits you.

“Hey, it’s the graffiti artist,” He greets you as he takes a sip from his beer. “Drawn anything obscene recently?”

“No.” You smile back as you order an Old Fashioned. “But I’ve been life modelling for a couple of art students recently so I’m probably the subject of some.”

He almost spits out his beer, because you…

Truly, you are something else entirely.

You spend the night together at that bar, shooting pool, sharing a few beers. It’s been a while since he’s felt so relaxed, that he’d been just David instead of Sheriff Hale. You make him laugh until his ribs hurt, until he’s drunk off more than just the booze at the bar.

When he walks you home that night, he doesn’t expect you to kiss him, or undress him, or ride him like the beautiful, wild thing that you are.  

When he wakes up the next morning he’s alone amongst your sheets, the scent of your perfume clinging to his skin. He raises his head to see you sitting in a chair across from the bed wearing his t-shirt from the night before with a sketchbook resting on your knees.

“I need this back.” He smiles, tugging at the hem when you raise to your feet and approach the bed.

“Take it off me.” You dare him, so he does and it starts all over again.

It isn’t until he’s tugging on his jeans an hour later that realises what you were drawing. It’s a picture of him, sleeping. He looks so peaceful in that moment, like he doesn’t carry the burdens of the world upon his shoulders.

“Is this how you see me?” He asks you, his throat tight with emotion.

You frown as if you don’t understand the question.

“That’s how you are.” You tell him as you tear the page out from your sketchbook and hand it to him. “Something to remember me by.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget you.” He tells you as he tucks it into his wallet.

It’s that night at the station when he’s sitting in his office that he takes it out again. His fingers trace over the pencil work and he can’t help but think that maybe this would be the man he could be if he was happier, if he didn’t hold onto everything so damn tightly. It isn’t until he folds it back up that he realises you’ve left your phone number on the back.

Call me the next time you want some fun, you’ve scrawled above it.

He pulls out his cell phone and dials.

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[saucyjothoughts]

Can we have something dedicated to Naces huge cock ?

I had to make this Jance (hung!Nace x sizequeen!Jan). Hope you don't mind.

(nsfw under the cut)

"I don't believe you," came Jan's message. "You're just bragging."

"It's not a brag," Nace texted back. "It's the bain of my existence."

It was true. Having a huge cock sounds like all fun and games until your partners stop wanting to give you head because it strains their jaw too much. Until even pussy that can handle the girth can never take you balls-deep. Until no one will let you try anal. It was (if you excuse the double entendre) a massive pain in the ass.

"Pics or you're lying."

"I'm not hard."

"Then get hard."

Nace was pretty sure Jan would send him something for inspiration if he asked but he was too polite to do so. Instead, he spent a few moments on the main page of his favourite pornsite and took his dick out of his pants, stroking a spit-wet palm just under the head until it was suitably photogenic.

Nace sent a photo.

After the longest twenty seconds of Nace's life, Jan's reply came through.

"Nice. I have a toy that size."

"Pics or you're lying," Nace returned Jan's tease.

Jan sent a photo.

It was a sleek black thing, flared suction-cup base with smooth ridges and a realistic tip moulded into the silicone. He included his face for scale, eyebrows raised in a playful expression. It looked huge next to him. Nace stroked himself a little more.

"Can you take it?"

"Yup."

"All of it?"

"Of course."

"Show me."

Half an hour later, Nace was catching his breath, cleaning his own cum off his chest.

"Quite the performance," he told his friend. "Would love to see it in person some time."

"Do you have plans tomorrow?"

"Nothing I can't cancel."

***

"Fuck, that's good."

Jan was on his knees, forearms resting on the top of the headboard. He had already been playing with himself before Nace arrived, a fat plug keeping him open. He had let Nace pop it out for him, ready to replace with cock. Now, Nace was in him just a couple of inches, angling himself to push against Jan's prostate.

"You can go deeper than that," Jan turned his head a little to tell him, dark hair messy on his face. "I can take it, don't worry about hurting me."

"I want it to feel good for you too," Nace told him. "I'm not just here to use you as a cocksleeve."

Jan groaned. "Say that word again."

"What? Cocksleeve?"

"Now say it with your hand around my throat."

After a moment of hesitation, Nace leaned forward over him, reaching to wrap his hand around Jan's neck. Just a little pressure with his hand, just a little pressure with his dick and -

"Cocksleeve."

Jan's whole body shook underneath him. Those red puffy lips whined out an obscene noise and his warm, wet ass clenched around Nace's cock in waves and the sore, swollen dick between his legs dribbled cum onto the sheets below them.

"Did you just come?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I told you I want you to enjoy it."

"I'm enjoying it." His body was still tremoring.

"Do you want to carry on?"

"Don't you dare stop now. But can we have more lube?"

Nace leaned back, pulling out. He watched Jan's pretty little asshole twitch as it gaped at him, enough that Nace could pour lube directly inside him as well as down the length of his cock. He smeared it over himself until he was glistening. There was no way he should have been able to fit inside but Jan was like a fantasy, like his own personal pornstar, moaning like heaven on earth the moment Nace was inside him again, pleasure in high definition.

Newly slick, Nace pushed deep. At least, as deep as he had even been before. Still inches away from any skin-on-skin contact, but Nace had learned to accept his fate. He knew he'd never be able feel his entire cock inside a lover to the hilt, he'd never be able to give someone everything. At least, he thought that was true. Until he met Jan.

"Deeper."

"More?"

"More."

Nace pushed. Underneath him, Jan's back was beginning to sweat, the muscles of his arms flexing where he held himself up, slutty little hips wiggling. Nace caught them with his hands and pulled them back onto his cock deeper, the most beautiful sight Nace had ever seen. He was rock solid, desperately aroused, losing more and more control with every inch he gained into Jan's depths. He felt so good, so warm and tight and willing. Nace wrapped an arm underneath him and pressed up against his belly, feeling the movement of his own cock filling Jan's guts as he thrust into him. Fuck.

"You sure you can take it all?"

Jan's voice was deep, breathy. "Fuck me, Nace."

His core tightened. Nace's hips rolled a deep, dirty rhythm, pushing and pushing and pushing until -

Nace's hips were flush with Jan's ass. Never before had he been so deep, the entire length of his cock able to enjoy someone's body, and he pushed again, forcing himself against the cushioning of Jan's butt, letting his balls slap against him. He was as deep as he could be, giving him everything, closer than he had ever been to anyone before. The feeling was addictive. Inside Nace, a fire burned.

Jan was moaning, trying to meet Nace's movements but little more than putty in his hands. Nace had picked up the pace, not having to worry about hurting him, not having to restrain himself, just able to give without fear and take without guilt, letting go, getting closer. He gritted his teeth against the intensity of it all. Rough hands took hold of Jan's shoulders, squeezing tight enough to hear Jan whine, his knuckles blanching white.

He couldn't keep his nasty thoughts to himself.

"I'm gonna come so deep in your ass you're gonna taste it in your mouth."

Jan's whole body shook.

[wehaveimagineshere]

First time doing this, hope I'm doing It right. I was curious If I could request some Astarion x Male!Tav Rogue scenarios ? Just some angst and fluff, whatever crosses your mind c:

Heya! Ren here! I saw "scenario" and figured you were looking for me. You didn't specify an admin, so hopefully we guessed right!

You didn't give a specified prompt, so I went with the first thing that came to mind! A little angst, a little fluff, hopefully it's up your alley!

~*~*~

With just the moonlight filtering through the windows to guide your aim, you line up your dagger once more, the makeshift target at the other end of the common room already littered with holes.

A steady inhale. Aim. A steady exhale. Throw.

Bullseye. The blade slides easily into the wood, right next to the two other daggers already thrown true.

With a sigh, you plop down onto the nearby chair, the awaiting bottle of wine quickly in your hand, the drink sliding down your throat, an attempt to ease the thoughts circling over and over in your mind.

Astarion broken underneath that mansion. That cry that had ripped from him had nearly shattered your heart, his dead abuser's blood soaking into your knees as you settled beside him, fingers digging into your pants at the want to comfort but not knowing if he wanted touch.

Karlach's sob behind you. Astarion's forced levity as he ushered everyone to leave. The turmoil in his eyes, the tightness in his smile.

It all kept circling around and around and around.

He'd went straight to his room upon return and hadn't come out since. He needed time to process, to figure out his thoughts and emotions, and you didn't fault him for it. Not for one second.

It just left you restless. Worried. So you'd taken to mindless, quiet activity on the Inn's second floor's common room, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind just a little quieter.

Taking up another dagger from your obscene collection, you start fiddling with the table, digging the point into the wood. Spin the blade. Run your fingers over the hilt. Carve out a small dick into the wood. Spin the blade again. Add a pair of balls to your dick.

A latch unlocking has you going still, obscene artwork forgotten as you peer behind you.

You weren't sure if Astarion could ever look anything but freshly kept. Even with blood splattering his face and clothes on many occasion, cuts and bruises peppering his skin that thankfully quickly healed, his hair had always stayed put. His eyes had always had that amused crinkle, his lips pulled into a small, knowing smile.

Even in the poor lighting you can see his dead eyes, his tired face. His ruffled hair as if he hasn't stopped running his fingers through it since you'd last seen him. The paleness to an already pale complexion.

You stay seated, quiet, allowing him the opportunity to pretend he hasn't seen you, even as your hands start to shake, your chest tighten. Twitchy fingers flip the dagger in familiar tricks instead of reaching out.

He crosses the room on silent feet, slowly sliding into the seat next to you, head bowing, shoulders hunching and elbows keeping his upper body upraised.

Setting down your dagger, you ask quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

A half hearted scoff escapes him. "Talk about it?" A pause, then quietly, "Where would I even begin?"

Leaning forward casually and shifting so you're facing him, you lay a hand down on the table, palm up. When he doesn't move, you wiggle your fingers. Shift your hand closer and wiggle them again.

"What are you doing?" he snipes, the bite missing.

"Letting you know my hand is ready for prime holding time."

His eyes meet yours, a small indignant spark lighting his hues that make you smile. "That is the stupidest thing I've heard, darling."

Now you lift your hand between you, raising an eyebrow and wiggle your fingers once more. The look he gives you screams more of his usual self as he rolls his eyes, fighting a smile as he takes your hand and presses it against the table.

Palm against palm. Fingers sliding to interlock.

"I hate that it works," you hear him murmurs, and you can't help but chuckle.

Quiet settles again and you let it, your thumb sliding over his hand as you give him all the time he needs.

"For years," he starts quietly, eyes staring at your hands, "I've wanted nothing more than to tear his heart out. To give him just a taste of the pain he'd given me. It kept me sane, as sane as I could be." A pause. "I've done it. He'd dead. I've killed him."

"But?" you prompt when he falls silent again.

"But, I..." He looks to you fully then, expression so open and lost it cleaves your chest in two. "I thought I would feel...powerful. In control. But all I feel is... Emptiness. Relief, yes, yet..." His brows furrow. "What do I do now?"

"Anything you want," you respond. Gesturing to the table, you add, "I carved a dick in the table."

He blinks. "Yes," he says dryly. "You did."

A shrug. "And Cazador can't say shit about it."

"Why did I come to you for advice?" he asks with a sigh, amusement lighting his eyes. "I pour my heart out and you tell me about a table dick."

"I think it's a nice dick."

"Yes, yes, it's a nice dick, now can we go back to the part where I was talking about myself?"

You grin. "By all means."

He huffs, but his voice is lighter. "Cazador's gone, and I find myself with a future I only dared dream of."

"You have the chance to figure it out now," you say. "There's no timeline."

He hums in quiet approval. "You're right. I no longer have to look over my shoulder." Another pause. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You always make me voice everything, don't you?" He shakes your joined hands in mock irritation. "You helped. You trusted me when it was an objectively stupid thing to do. And I'm here now because of it."

Another shrug. "Give me a kiss and we'll call it even."

That smile crosses his lips, the one that always makes your heart sing. "You are an idiot, I hope you know." He leans in. "I would request a much more favorable gift if I were in your shoes."

"Yeah?" you ask, voice dropping. "Like what?"

"Money. A favor." You can feel his breath mingle with your own. "Nothing as simple as a single kiss."

"I wouldn't ask for a kiss from anyone else."

"Good."

The trust he showed you tonight fills your heart and you can only hope he can feel just half of that gratitude as you slide your hand to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss that sends tingles through every inch of your body.

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Why won't you fuck me?! | Stepbro!Eddie x FEM!Reader

Summary: Your Stepbro won't fuck you, what will you do fix that?

Cw: Smut, unprotected sex, Voyeourism, public masturbating, rough sex, pussy eating, creampie, lots of cum, big dick, horny reader

Eddie Munson has been your brother for... 5 months now and you still didn't understand how or why your mother fell in love with his uncle...

Eddie is... Weird, to put it in kind words but really he's an outcast... But he's hot you can't deny that...

But one day when you caught him jerking off in the bathroom, you never pulled him out of your head again

He was jerking off furiously, chest flushed and face scrunched in pleasure, and his dick, gosh it's so big, maybe 11 inches and the girth was at least 4, he was huge and he was need, of course no one wanted to fuck him, he's a weirdo but oh wow his dick was good

So from that day, you decided to test the waters

Wearing skimpy outfits, tiny skirts and shorts without any underwear, bending over in front of him, rubbing against him, you tried everything and nothing ever worked

He was too kind...

You had to break that

So you decided to take it the extra mile, masturbating loudly

Your rooms were right next to each other, so it was the perfect timing

You had been going at it for a while, edging yourself until you were almost crying and he still didn't come into your room, you moaned, groaned, screamed but nothing worked

Was he deaf?

Your door was wide open, your legs too and he still hadn't come in to see what was going on

You had enough

Storming into his room, you found him laying down writing something in his DND diary

"Really?! I'm right next to you and you don't come in?!"

"Oh hi sweetheart" he said unbothered "What's up?"

You scoffed "Really?! I'm literally masturbating right next to you, aren't you curious?!"

"Mmmm, well considering you're my sister, no I'm not"

You sat down on his lap, tank top disheveled and pussy aching for love and touch

"Don't you wanna fuck me Eddie? I've been giving you hints for weeks now!"

He blinked

"Oh... That was for me...?"

He really is stupid

You rolled your eyes, grinding down on him

"Of course! Who else?!"

He shrugged "I dunno, I just didn't wanna you know, seems like a pervert"

"But I want you to be a pervert, I like you Eddie, I want you to fuck me" you said in a moan

"Fuck baby I... Fuck we can't do this"

"Eddieeeee, please, just fuck me, no one needs to know" you pouted

He had it difficult, you looked so cute with your tits out and pussy leaking on top of him, and his dick screaming to be let out of it's cage, fuck it

"Alright fuck it"

He manhandled you into doggy style, diving face first into your pussy, eating you out so messily it made you see stars while he took off his jeans and boxers

"Fuck you taste so good sis" he smacked your ass, hard

"Yes just like that Ed's fuck!"

The slurping noises where so obscene, he ate pussy like an animal

And fucked like on

The bed was scraping against the floor and hitting the wall so hard if was gonna break, he was fucking you with all his strength and might

"Aaaaah! Eddie!" You screamed, his dick so big it was making a bulge on your stomach

"Fuck just like that, pussy so tight around my dick"

"Eddie don't stop!"

You felt the knot forming in your stomach, you were gonna cum, hard

"I'm cumming Eddie!"

You squirted all over his dick, balls and thighs, making him groan and hold you down while he pounded into you like an animal in heat, his balls drew up and he emptied inside your with a guttural moan and groan combined

"Fuck!"

You felt all of it, every single drop of his hot cum, painting your unprotected womb and walls, your eyes rolled back as he filled you up

Five minutes passed and he finally stopped cumming, it all rushed out of you in gushes

"Fuck baby, hope you're on the pill" he said out of breath

"What if I fell you I'm not?" You said wiggling your ass at him

"Fuck..." He said falling down on his bed

Whoopsie