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welldonebeca · 3 months

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Glitter and Goo (iii)

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. WC: 1.8k words Warnings: Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Passionate sex. Breeding kink. Praising kink. Size difference. Cock warming. A/N: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me... y'all know the deal. It's my birthday, you get smut.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and I promise you won’t regret it.

Masterlist

Bucky climbed onto the mattress and you grabbed him quickly, pulling him close and kissing him hungrily.

Yes, you wanted him to fill you. You needed it!

His cock brushed against your leg, and you spread your thighs.

"In me," you pleaded. "Bucky. Please."

You were so empty! You needed him.

But he didn't give it to you, no. Instead, Bucky buried his face in your neck, kissing it as his hand fondled your breast.

"Such beautiful tits," Bucky babbled. "Always loved your tits, wanted to kiss them so much."

He pinched your nipples, tugging on them.

"Big tits to feed my big babies," he grunted. "Gonna nurture them with them, right?"

You nodded, swallowing down, and whined when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

"Please," you whined. "Need you!"

Why was he being so mean? You needed him inside you!

Bucky took his lips away, pressing your tits together.

"Gotta prepare you," Bucky bit your nipples. "You're too small."

No you weren't!

You reached down to his cock, hoping you could tempt him into getting inside you, but stopped, shocked, when you wrapped your fingers around him and couldn't close your fingers around him.

Oh.

James put his hands between your legs, and you whimpered when he parted your folds with his fingers.

"You're so wet," he purred. "Just for me, right? Just for my cock?"

His fingers travelled up, circling your clit as his teeth ran over your nipple, biting and sucking.

"Bucky," you whined, squirming under him, the smell of his skin clouding your thoughts a little.

You needed him, you needed his cock! Not his fingers.

Bucky let your tits go, his nose moving between them, his tongue licking your skin.

"Gonna make your tits swell," he promised. "Fill with milk to feed my child."

You moaned at the idea. God, he would put such big babies in you, right? Big healthy babies!

"Please," you begged. "Want your cock inside me. Want you to breed me."

Bucky circled your clit a bit more.

"But I need-"

"I need you!" you pleaded. "I need you, Bucky. Please. Inside me!"

He stopped, and looked at your face, giving you time to put your hands on his cheeks.

"Please, Bucky," you pleaded. "You said you'd breed me, right? I want you, I need you!"

His eyes softened completely, and he nodded weakly before moving up.

You turned a bit for him, though, showing him your ass, and he moaned darkly.

"Want me to fuck you from behind?" he grunted. "Fuck, baby..."

"Please," you insisted. "Bucky!"

He embraced you from behind, placing his cock weeping cock over your pussy, looking so big from where you were looking that you knew you'd feel him there for days.

He pushed the head in, and you moaned at finally - fucking finally - being able to fill him.

"Yes," you cried. "Yes, Bucky, yes."

His cock slipped into you in the easiest way, as if you were only waiting for it your whole life. As if you were waiting just for him.

"You're so wet, baby," he grunted into your neck. "So welcoming!"

Bucky wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you in close as he moved slowly and gently.

Too slowly and too gently.

"Please," you whined. "Fuck me! Please!"

He held you in place.

"Gotta be careful," Bucky pinched your nipple. "Can't hurt you."

You tugged onto his arm, nearly digging your nails into his arm.

"No," you pleaded. "Want you to hurt me, please."

Bucky froze.

"Doll?" he asked softly.

You pressed your ass against him, trying to get his cock to bottom out inside you.

"Wanna feel you forever," you pleaded. "Please, Bucky!"

It was enough to break him.

James pulled his hips back, slamming his hips into yours and filling you completely before adjusting behind you.

He fucked you in his earnest, fucking you hard and deep, and you moaned in delight.

"Mine," he growled into your neck. "You're just mine."

His arm came around you, and you gasped when he placed his metal arm over your body, with his hand framing your cunt.

"Gonna fill you with cum," he promised darkly. "Breed you, show everyone you're mine."

Bucky adjusted you, until his fingers were on your folds and your clit, and you cried out when you felt it vibrating.

"Yes," you cried. "Bucky!"

"Say it," he twisted your nipple with his free hand. "Say you're mine!"

You clung to his arms.

"I'm yours," you cried. "Bucky, I'm yours."

He half growled, face buried in your neck, and your eyes fluttered closed when you felt him throbbing inside your pussy, filling you up suddenly.

But he didn't stop. If anything, Bucky fucked you harder.

Your eyes nearly crossed he continued to move, pushing his cum deep inside you, and you could feel the knot of pleasure growing in your belly.

"Like this?" he moaned into your neck. "Wanted me to fuck you like that, baby? Bruise that pussy with me big cock?"

"Yes," you cried.

Bucky pressed his vibrating hand to your clit.

"Fuck," you felt your body shaking. "Bucky! Bucky, please!"

"Want me to make you cum?" he pressed his lips to your ear. "Want me to make you cum while I breed you, pretty girl? While I give you a baby?"

You nodded, feeling your pussy already fluttering, your body already so fucking ready.

He angled his hand, moving in circles around your clit and angling his cock.

He brushed against the sweetest spot inside, and you cried in pleasure when he did. Bucky adjusted, and with each stroke of his cock hit the perfect spot, making you melt and cry.

"Yes, yes," you cried. "Bucky!"

His touches were insistent, unstopping, and you came.

Things got blurry after that, and you couldn't focus on how many times you came and he came.

Bucky fucked his cum deep inside you, always thick and hot, and you welcomed it happily

Oh, how you wished he would breed you there and then.

He fed you and made sure you drank water in between fucking, though you were pretty sure FRIDAY was the one to remind you two to about it.

By the time you were out of the horny fog, it was time to land the ship.

"Shh, sweet girl," Bucky squeezed you in place with his metal arm. "Gotta keep you safe as we land."

You were sat right on his cock, just your lab coat covering your ass. Bucky was mean to you, making you sit there while he took control of the ship, and if it was the easiest thing you could do while he worked, when it wasn't.

It absolutely wasn't.

You'd fucked for the two whole days, and maybe a little more. Maybe he had decreased the speed of the ship when you were a little closer to Earth so you could see the moon as you came.

This was the last time you two would be fucking in a while.

Two days had left you quite sore.

The effects of the pollen and goo were gone, and while you two hadn't talked, it was a silent understanding that you two were on the same page.

You held onto him when you felt the ship landing, shaking a bit like a plane would.

Bucky only let you go when the ship landed completely.

"FRIDAY, make sure we have a few minutes of privacy," he requested.

"How long, Agent Barnes?"

He thought for a moment.

"20 minutes," he requested. "It's enough."

The system darkened the window in front of you and Bucky moved you gently, caressing your cheek gently.

"You want me to make you cum now, baby?" he offered. "I can just pull out."

You shook your head, hiding your face in his chest. There was no way you could possibly cum anymore.

"Want you to cum in me," you requested, half whining. "Please."

He chuckled.

"What an eager girl, my sweetheart is," Bucky adjusted you, fucking you with shallow thrusts. "Just want cum, baby?"

You nodded, bouncing the littlest bit on his lap.

Fuck, if you ever had to continue with this, you'd have to get an IUD. You couldn't go back to condoms after having his cum freshly fucked into you, you just couldn't.

He held you close and tightly, kissing your temple and cheek sweetly, caressing your back as you bounced gently over him.

Bucky used you with the gentleness of a man who'd learned every bit of your body and pleasure, and you let out a soft moan when he filled you, at last.

…

“Glitter and Goo” was first posted on my Patreon on April 2023. To read it now, subscribe to my page, it’s just $2 a month and I promise you won't regret it.

…

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515 @indecisiondecisions @afanofmanystuffs @patzammit @thevanishedillusion @widowsfics @alexisshoto @dreams-of-feysand @dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

Glitter and Goo: @art2emily

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tommydarlings · 8 months

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puppy dog eyes | c.s

pairing: sub!carlos x dom!reader

warnings: smut, face sitting, brief mention of dacryphilia

w/c: 0.6k

summary: you just couldn’t resist your boyfriend's big, brown, puppy dog eyes — you needed them to look up at you while you’re sitting on his face. (based off of this request)

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +55 works) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

“What do you want carlos? Use your words,” you tilted your head in his direction, watching with narrowing eyes as he looked up at you from laying flat on his back on the bed you two share.

Carlos gulped as he gazed up at you with his big, brown puppy dog eyes, “you know-

“What do you want,” you repeated in a harsher way, smiling down at him as you removed your panties.

Your boyfriend sighed while you ran your fingertips along his naked chest, making him stutter a bit as he answered, “Want y-you to sit o-on my face,” he replied in a stuttering manner while you gazed up at you with this puppy dog eyes that you adore.

He was so cute with his slightly glassy, big, brown eyes.

You walked closer to him, looking down at him with raised brows before you spoke up in a taunting manner, “You want me to sit on your face, cariño?” You whispered before you bend down, balancing your face on your palm as you brushed some of his hair out of his face.

Carlos gulped and widened his eyes a bit as you touched his face.

God was he touch desperate.

Then he slowly nodded, silently answering your question, making you smile and bite your lip,

“Yeah? Would you enjoy that? When I rub my pussy over your mouth and nose, making you all wet while I’m holding your head in place by your hair, baby?” You said before you stood up again, making Carlos raise his brows and excitement.

“Don’t get too excited,” you mumbled after he nodded at your question you’ve asked before.

After some seconds of him excitingly waiting for you to fulfill his wish, you sat down on his chest, brushing his hair out of his face before you harshly grabbed them, crawling forward, putting your desperate pussy right in front of his mouth.

“C'mon, cariño,” you smirked down at him, tugging on his hair a bit, “thought you wanted to have a taste so bad,” you shrugged but quickly stopped your sassy behaviour since he let his tongue lick a stripe up your pussy, forcing you to throw your head back and moan.

“F-Fuck,” you whined in a hush tone, roughly fisting the sheets next to your boyfriends body while he only moaned and groaned into your pussy as he looked up at you with big puppy dog eyes probably begging for more.

You let your head fall forward, stuttering breaths of your yours filling the air as Carlos decided to raise his hands and grab your thighs, pulling your closer to his hungry mouth.

You briefly chuckled before you shook your head, “oh no, no, no Carlos baby…did I say you could touch me? No, I didn’t,” you told him in a harsh tone, making him whine into your pussy before he removed his hands again, harshly fisting the sheets now as well.

In a quiet manner, you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran his nose along your pussy a bit, including his tongue sometimes as well while he looked at you with slightly teary eyes.

This man was a sight for sore eyes right now, god.

“Just l-like that, c-carlos,” you gulped before you moaned and pulled his mouth even closer by his fluffy hair, “that’s a good boy, just like that,” you mumbled, looking down at him.

You fell slightly forward, balancing yourself entirely on his head as you put your second hand on his hair as well, moving your hips in circular motions as you started to stutter, breathing getting heavier and more uneven as you felt like you were gonna fall apart — but in a good way.

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jarofstyles · 2 months

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hiiii could we get a really really meandom!Harry who’s very cocky & likes to manhandle y/n please please please 🙏🏻

Yall love a mean h huh? Here’s a baby blurb!!

Patreon

Warnings- mean don obviously, lots of degradation, gagging, slight dumbification,

——-

“I’ve had enough of looking at you disobey me.” He snarled. Her breath was stolen as his hands gripped her hips, physically tossing her on to her knees, not giving her any time to recover as he tugged her up to where he wanted her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She cried out, spitting hair out of her mouth as she tried to plead her case. “I tried to hold it, I really did. It felt t-too good.” Reaching her orgasm without permission was not something the man took kindly to. Not after he made it explicitly clear that he owned every drop of her pleasure.

“Sorry isn’t fucking good enough, is it?” There was little time to think before his cock impaled her again, sliding all the way inside and stealing her breath. A broken moan left her swollen mouth as he pulled out and slammed back in again, jostling her on the bed. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time? Can’t believe I have t’keep teaching you how to be good.”

She knew it was pathetic but she loved when he got like this. When he spoke mean to her, his tone low and sharp as his cock fucked into her. Being used like this was the thing she wanted most of all and Harry gave it to her so good, she couldn’t stop coming back. “I-I….” The girl had attempted to say something, but the thrusts had fucked any thought she had right out of her head.

“You what? Fucking whore… god, it’s a good thing your cunt feels this good. I’d have no use for you if it wasn’t.” He could tell she liked it from how wet she god, gushing around his prick and soaking him more than any other woman had. The sloppy sounds of her ruined cunt getting deep fucked were loud and welcomed, next to her little whines each time he thrust all the way in. “Yeah… good little pussy, takes me so well. At least she works properly, unlike that empty little head of yours. Just lay there and let me use you to get off.”

That had her cunt fluttering around his cock again, clueing him in to just how much she liked the degrading. “Pathetic.” Fingers pressed into her mouth, making her moans muffle as she attempted to suck on them. “Need all your holes filled just t’make you happy. Lucky I’m so nice to you and let you be my fucktoy. I have options, y’know sweets? Could get my dick wet whenever I leave the house but…” he felt her moan on his digits as his other hand dipped his thumb into her ass. “None of them let me toss ‘em around quite like you. You know your place as my pretty set of holes, don’t you?”

There was a feeble attempt at a nod but she was hindered by the fingers she had stroking her tongue, eyes tearing up again as he got deep into her. It felt like he was in her stomach, the intrusion on her ass only adding to the full feeling she’d been craving. “Good. I don’t want t’have to replace you, sweetheart. Don’t think anyone else would get this wet from having their sweet cunt bullied by a cock that’s a bit too big for them to take.”

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robsheridan · 10 months

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4th of July family album, 1950s-70s. The good ol’ days, a reminder of how things USED to be. Kids these days will never know the simple joy of summoning meat demons from the void dimensions to grill on an open fire. Back then we weren’t “taking selfies,” we were building bone golems of ourselves to bring to brief unholy life so we could ignite them into flames.

We didn’t need “apps” to have fun, we were outside celebrating America by self-immolating and roaming the streets smoldering with hellfire. I can still smell the burning skin! And we didn’t even get hurt, because we were just tougher back then; and also conducted human sacrifices that granted us protection, but you’d get “cancelled” for that these days.

No one complained if you wanted to fill the lake with the blood of cursed swine to bring it to a boil, and we weren’t shy about skinny dipping in it, heck we’d strip down to our bones as we gnawed on each others’ melting flesh - a little snack before heading home for barbecued ribs cracked right off the crispy meat demons.

As night fell we’d sing songs that might not be “politically correct” today just because they were the six profane recitations of Zasorael which brought forth the Araknoloids, but that’s just how things were back then: Men were men, women were women, and the Araknaloids were giant bloodthirsty hellspiders who lit up the sky with ectoplasmic glory when we fed them explosives. And as their flaming bones rained down upon the sky, burning our houses and cars and grandma, we weren’t afraid to say GOD BLESS AMERICA.

-----------

NOTE: This is a work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#rob sheridan #nightmaires #alternate history #4th of July #Americana #Ai horror #Ai art #synthography #synthography horror #retro horror

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 9 months

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Imagine teaming up with Shanks to pull a prank on Rayleigh

The crew has stopped off at the Sabaody archipelago for a few weeks

Shanks: *talking with Benn* I can't think of a good prank.

You: *the resident prankster* need help

Benn: has anyone ever told you eavesdropping is rude?

You: repeatedly, but who are we pranking?

Shanks: *makes eye contact with Benn*

Benn: *shrugs* they do know what they're doing.

Shanks: Alright, but you can't tell anyone what we're planning. So it'll be you, me, Benn, Yassop, and Lucky Roux pranking Rayleigh.

You: *hisses* you want to prank Dark King Rayleigh! Have you lost your mind!

Shanks: we'll be fine as long as we don't piss off Shakky, which having you on board makes things a lot easier she likes you after all, and we don't break anything. Also, Rayleigh raised me on Roger's ship, and it's tradition that I prank him when I come to visit.

You: if you say so... I may have an idea then.

Two days later

Shanks: this is the stupidest prank I've ever heard of. He likes this grandpa candy.

Benn: *throw a bag of hard caramels at him,* it's funny, now keep working.

You: now remember, we're going to do this slowly at first a few candies here and there, then we'll pull out all the stops.

A week later

Rayleigh: Alright, which one of you motherfuckers filled my dresser with candy?

Shanks: Oh you must be getting to that age.

Rayleigh: you don't fool me for a second you little shit, and what age?

Benn: That age where the old people candy just sort of spawns near you.

Rayleigh: What? That's not a thing.

Benn: You can believe whatever you want, my father did the same thing when it started to happen to him. But he was eventually buried in it, and his neighbors spent two days digging him out.

Rayleigh: *starting to lose it* Just tell me who it is, and I promise I won't be mad.

Shanks: don't look at me, you know I hate that shit.

Benn: It hurts my teeth.

Yassop: I wouldn't dare.

Rayleigh: *locks eyes with you*

You: *hides behind Shakky* I am innocent, I promise.

Shakky: *pats you on the back, while pickpocketing you of the candy in your pockets* You're scaring the children dear.

Rayleigh: The promise of a pirate when they're being accused means very little. *Looks to Lucky Roux*

Lucky Roux: *shakes his head * I swear upon my tongue.

Rayleigh: That's it! All of you empty your pockets right this instant!

Shakky: *wraps her arms around Rayleigh, sliding her hands and the candy into his back pockets* Calm down my love, you shouldn't accuse them of anything without proof.

Rayleigh: *deflates and his anger leave him* You're right I'm sorry.

Shakky: * pulls her hands out of his back pockets and shows him the candy* especially when they may be right.

Rayleigh: God damn it! *Storms out of the room*

Shakky: I'm going to keep this little prank going even after you all have left, it's quite fun to see him so worked up.

Shanks: when did you figure it out?

Shakky: oh please, this is my house, nothing comes in or out without me knowing. Plus none of you are slick, I could hear the crinkling from the bags all night.

List of Up-and-coming works

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just-a-creep-babe · 1 year

Text

A Demon’s Ache — Part 5

Eyeless Jack x Reader Smut

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss thank you so very much luv ❣️❤️❣️

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

The door to your room is closed

He feels like a creep staring at it from across the hall, but he needs a moment to think before trying to talk to you

He’s never liked confrontations, always too worried about saying or doing the wrong thing, but he has to do this–he knows he does

Besides, not only has he promised Hoodie, but he’s also promised himself that he’d make things right again

Because ultimately, the thought of having somehow hurt you, whether intentionally or not, breaks his dead black heart

And despite everything that’s happened recently, despite all the heartache and yearning, he’s missed you

He’s barely had any time to hang out with you, to see you, to hear your beautiful voice

God, he misses your smile

He runs his fingers through his hair

At the end of the day, it’s you, he reminds himself

He knows you’ll listen to him, and he knows you’ll take him seriously

He shouldn’t be worrying so much, it’s just stressing him out

But before he can approach your room, he hears footsteps coming down the hall

He sighs, waiting for the person to pass

He’d rather not have anyone listening in on your conversation, if it can be avoided

Nat walks by, the clock in her eye tick tick ticking as she moves past him

She offers him a cursory glance, and for a brief moment, she almost seems to pause

But then she keeps walking, apparently ignoring him for the most part, and he watches her go before his sight lands on your door once more

He sighs to himself again

He knows he can’t keep stalling forever—it’s getting ridiculous

Ruffling his hair one last time, he walks up to your door, raises his fist, then takes one last deep breath to steel his nerves and ready himself

And that’s when your scent hits him

It nearly dazes him, knocking the wind out of his lungs and leaving him utterly breathless

It’s not the first time he smells your arousal, but it feels like it’s been so long since the last time

And it’s so utterly mouthwatering

His first instinct, though entirely inappropriate, is to lean in closer to your door

He hears you—quiet, breathy little sighs and whimpers filling the space beyond the door—and the horrible thought of someone else pleasuring you flashes to mind

Jealousy burns in his chest

He closes his eyes, pressing his ear to the door, straining to hear if you’re alone

It’s none of his business, he knows that

Really, it’s a huge violation of your privacy

But civility be damned—his instincts are too strong, too possessive to ignore them

Thankfully, he doesn’t hear anyone else, nor does he smell them

He only hears your angelic sounds, only smells your delicious scent

He hears what he can only assume to be your cunt squelching noisily

And he wonders what could’ve possibly gotten you so riled up

Are you thinking of him?

Are you remembering how his mouth had felt between your thighs, how his fingers had felt teasing at your slit and then slowly sinking into that perfect little cunt of yours?

He swallows thickly, the idea igniting an all-too-familiar rush of heat through his body and down to his groin

Maybe you’re imagining more than that

Maybe you’re imagining how it’d feel for him to push the entirety of his stiff length into you, fucking it in and out, in and out of your fluttering walls until you’re panting and mewling for him—just like now, but louder and greedier for more

This is fucked, he realizes

Not only is he listening in on something personal, something private, but he’s doing so while having some of the filthiest fantasies possible

He was supposed to talk to you, he was supposed to make things right

But now all he can think about is mating you, breeding you

He wants to taste you again, feel your cunt clench around his tongue, your arousal sweet like honey and entirely too addictive as he laps it all up

He releases a quiet, shaky breath

There’s no way either of you are in the right headspace for an important discussion

He should leave

He should respect your space and come back some other time when the both of you are ready for it

But then you make a cute, desperate little whimper, and the sound goes straight to his throbbing erection

Fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck

He’s torn

He doesn’t want to leave, not when staying means he could hear you reach your climax

But he knows he should

He’d be no better than BEN if he stayed

He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to memorize the sounds you’re making before leaving

And he swears he’s about to leave, but then your moans get louder, your breaths heaving out in shuddered curses, and he thinks fuck, he can’t walk away

Not now, not when you’re about to cum

He leans up closer to the door, straining to hear every little noise escaping you

The smell of your arousal is so, so sweet

You’re intoxicating

You cry out, sounding oh so wonderfully close to your peak

But then… nothing

He furrows his brows in confusion, leaning up even closer against the wooden surface

Silence

Well, not complete silence

He can still you breathing heavily, but it’s clear you’re no longer in the midst of pleasuring yourself

You huff, and then he hears shuffling, like you’re moving around

He decides he’s cut it close enough, and he should really get out of here by now

He doesn’t make a single noise on the way back to his room

His dick is throbbing in his jeans, which feel way too tight around his erection

Despite that, he can’t stop himself from wondering about you

Could you not make yourself cum?

The next day, after breakfast, he returns to your room

He decided the best course of action was to confront you bright and early in the morning, just to make sure nothing could get in the way

And he’s about to knock on your door when he hears it again

You’re moaning

Fuck

Just like yesterday, he can’t resist leaning in, trying to hear more, trying to inhale more of your addictive scent

It’s his instincts, he tells himself

His instincts make it damn near impossible to ignore you and walk away

He needs to hear you, he needs to breathe in your scent like every breath will be his last

You sound so filthy

His perfect little mate, so wrapped up in your search for release that you’re not even trying to be quiet

You almost sound like a pornstar—lewd and desperate, just begging to be stuffed full of cum

He swallows back a groan

He didn’t take care of his need yesterday, opting instead for a distraction, because he’d felt too guilty jerking off after spying on you

But now he’s twice as horny as he’d otherwise be

And combined with how openly shameless you’re being, to the point where he’s certain another creep would be able to hear you if they walked past, he realizes how badly he needs this

So even though it’s extremely risky, out in the open corridor right in front of your door, he can’t resist reaching down to palm himself through his jeans

It’s a recipe for disaster, he knows it is

It’s like he’s just begging for trouble at this point

Not to mention how fucking perverted it is, and how you’d probably actually want nothing to do with him if you ever found out

But he’s so, so horny

And the sounds you’re making are utterly sinful

From beyond the very thin door, he hears you gasp

“F-fuck! Fuck!~”

And god, palming himself suddenly isn’t enough

With a quiet grunt, he tugs his erection free, feeling his stiff length throbbing in his hold, and he imagines how fucking adorable you must look right now

He pictures you lying back in bed, your legs spread wide apart, showing off just how wet your perfect cunt is

He pictures you with your hand between your thighs, trying to rub away the ache throbbing at your core, trying to finally reach your orgasm

Maybe your free hand is at your tits, toying with your sensitive nipples, while your back arches and you whimper because it feels so good

Or maybe you’re imagining that Jack is with you now, and he can reach so much deeper inside your tight little walls, and he can feel you up and touch you as much as you want--as much as you need

He works his hand up down his shaft faster at the thought

He wants you, dear god does he ever want you

Your moans grow louder, almost like you somehow know what he’s doing and you’re encouraging him

Or, at least, that’s what he pretends, just so that he doesn’t feel half as perverted as he otherwise would

As he otherwise should

He inhales deeply, and he has to stop himself from releasing a snarl that could very well get him caught

You whimper, another string of curses escaping you, and he realizes, similarly to yesterday, that you must be getting close

Your breaths are shallow, your sex squelching noisily with arousal he would love to taste again

He strokes himself in tandem with the sounds you’re making, trying to match your pace as best as he can imagine, and he knows that he should try to make this as quick as possible

The longer he waits, the riskier it is

More precum beads up his slit, which he uses to smear over the tip of his cock, and the feeling has him groaning

He pictures you on your knees in front of him, giving cute little kitten licks to the underside of his tip

He imagines you taking his length all the way down your throat, choking and gagging but never once pulling away because you’re so eager to please him

He thinks about you and every single dirty thing he wants to do to you

Your cries grow more frequent, more impatient

He’s surrounded by you; your moans, your scent, your likeness invading his mind until it’s all he can think about

And then the tension in the pit of his abdomen snaps, and his cock throbs and twitches in his hold as he cums

He has to bite back another groan, brows furrowing, as he imagines cuming inside your fluttering cunt instead of in his fist

Cum splutters past his clenched fingers, dripping down, and if he was any more coherent, he’d panic at the mess he’s making right now

But he’s too preoccupied trying to listen in, trying to hear if you’ve reached your orgasm as well

He can only assume by your frustrated sigh that you haven’t

And as he’s leaning in, he suddenly realizes, someone’s coming this way

This time, the panic does set in

He frantically looks around—there has to be somewhere he can hide

A few feet away, he spots an open closet door

But he can hear the footsteps getting louder, and he doesn’t know if he can make it

Thankfully, he just barely manages to close the door behind him as the person passes the spot he was at mere seconds ago

It’s Nat again, and if he wasn’t hiding in a closet, trying very hard not to breathe so heavily with cum dripping from his hand, maybe he’d wonder what she’s doing here again

Her room isn’t even in this area

She glances around, and he flinches at the thought that she might see some kind of evidence of what he did in front of your door

Tick tick tick tick tick

He holds his breath and closes his eyes, listening to every second ticking by from her stopwatch

The sound grows louder, and he nearly has a heart attack as she approaches his hiding spot

He wonders if there’s anything he could say, anything he could do to stop her from telling you

But then the sound grows distant once more, and her footsteps finally move away

He waits a few minutes longer just to be absolutely certain he’s in the clear, and then he silently returns in front of your door, tries his best to clean up the most obvious parts of his mess, and sneaks back to his room as quickly and quietly as he possibly can

Next time, he tells himself, he’ll talk to you next time for sure

#creepypasta #eyeless Jack #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta x reader #crp ej

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simsi45 · 21 days

Text

The Sims 4 Amber House Pack - PUBLIC RELEASE!

youtube

CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE PATREON PAGE!

Oh...my...GOD!!! I can't believe this is actually happening....

After 3 years of hard work, I am here to welcome everyone to:

The Sims 4 Amber House Pack!

It's time to create your own mission style dream house, with this collection of 345 brand new and hella cool build/buy mode items, inspired by Dontnod's "Life is Strange: Before the Storm" game.

EARLY ACCESS: You can get the pack right now, on my PATREON on the 3-5$ tiers, or wait for the 12th of May for the public release!

Please read EVERYTHING included in the post as it contains useful information about the pack!

DISCLAIMER: Simsi45 or The Sims 4 Amber House Pack is NOT affiliated or associated with Electronic Arts, Square Enix, Deck Nine or Dontnod in ANY way. This is a purely fanmade pack made by me, a fan of both games that wanted to get the best of both worlds.

FEATURES:

345 new items (including sofas, tables, decor, windows, doors and much much more!)

Search for "amberhouse", "lis", "simsi45" to find most of the items in the build/buy catalog.

Custom original names and descriptions. (the best I could come up with :P)

Tons of custom recolors (based on original textures) to mix and match items more easily.

Heavy modification on original meshes and textures, including english text turned into simlish.

Everything has been playtested thoroughly.

Included are a couple of easter egg items from The Sims 2 that I thought fit the theme well.

New lot I made showcased in the trailer and pics (found in the gallery under my tag @simsi45_mods) a recreation of Rachel Amber's house.

LOT INSTALLATION:

Included in the pack is the lot recreation of the Amber House that's featured in the pictures and videos.

You can get the lot by:

Using the gallery. Make a search under my EA id: @simsi45_mods and download the lot as usual. I've included customized pictures to identify my own lot more easily. Make sure you have the "enable custom content" tag ENABLED for the lot to show up in the results.

If you have difficulties using the gallery you can download the lot tray files from the bottom of the post, and move them inside your own tray folder. This can be found in your documents/electronic arts/the sims 4/ tray folder. This way you can install the lot without the need of the gallery.

NOTES:

~ The pack is in an EARLY-ACCESS STATE! I have dedicated a lot of time to test everything but I'm a team of just a single person. If you find any issues please let me know so I can take a look.

~ Because of the amount of items the size of the pack is quite big. I tried my best to make everything as compact as possible with the final size being 1.5 GB of required free space.

~ The majority of the meshes and textures of these items are ripped straight from the LIS: Before the Storm game, and then each individual item (both mesh and textures) has been heavily modified and edited to fit and function properly within the Sims 4 game's engine. That's why some items will look identical to the original game, some look somewhat different, and some are brand new meshes I made using the original items.

~ Some of the original ripped meshes' poly counts were WAY too high so I had to lower the polygons so The Sims 4 wouldn't explode when filling a lot with them. I lowered the polygons and edited most of the items as much as possible without compromising their original look too much. In other words I tried to find the best balance between looks and performance and after lots of testing on my moderate PC system, I can confirm the game runs super smoothly on my end.

BACKSTORY ABOUT THE PACK (no spoilers):

This pack started with an idea I got back in 2017 when I first played Life Is Strange Before The Storm. When visiting the Amber house, I immediately fell in love with it as I am huge fan of the craftsman architectural style, it's literally all I'd want my dream house to be. The art team has done an incredible job on it, and as I personally find the art style of the Life is Strange series and The Sims 4 to fit very well with each other, I wanted to make these assets available for The Sims 4. Of course back then this all seemed impossible, however a few years later in 2020 during quarantine I revisited the idea as it had been stuck on my wishlist ever since.

To make a long story short, this project has been in the works for about 3 years now, and after a lot of hard work, head scratching and quite a few sleepless nights I managed to overcome all the obstacles I came across (which were a lot mind you) and I'm honestly hoping you'll be as pleased with the results as I am. Seriously this exceeded my expectations as it started as a small little pack for my personal use, to what I'd consider an expansion pack's (or even more) worth of build/buy content.

INSTALLATION:

Due to the size of the pack I had to split it up into multiple parts. You will need a .RAR extractor unpack it. More specifically:

1 -> Download ALL 6 parts of the pack and put them ALL in the same folder. 2 -> Right click the 1st part .RAR file named "Simsi45 - The Sims 4 Amber House Pack.part1" and click "Extract Here" 3 -> Once that's finished a package file will appear, this is the entire pack and you can now move that into The Sims 4/Mods. Simple as that!

CREDITS & THANKS:

~Dontnod, Square Enix, Deck Nine for the original meshes & textures ripped from Life is Strange: Before the Storm that were used to create most of the items.

~EA for some meshes & textures used to convert some items from The Sims 2.

Special thank you to all the patreon members that stuck with me throughout me developing the pack. Although not many I really appreciate every single one of you for the support you've given me and for sticking around!

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 1 year

Note

If you're still doing these from the kinky prompts - Wesker with #1, breeding?

Yep I am and sure!

Also, as I was writing, I added more kinks lol, such as cum inflation and overstimulation.

I hope you will like it!

Divider by @alegrvs 🥰

Ko-fi || Patreon

"Oh my god!" You cried out, feeling another orgasm approaching.

Your ass had been sitting up all night while your boobs were pressed tight to the mattress. Wesker was fucking your throbbing cunt at high speed, as your pulsating walls drove him crazy.

"You’re so tight, my love," he said, panting. "So, so tight…"

His hands were holding your hips in place as you had trouble lifting your buttocks for him. He's been behind you for quite some time now, not letting you rest for a bit. You felt his hot, thick shots of cum over and over, filling you to the brim.

Your sensitive pussy began to feel his cock twitching again. Every throb of his cock was felt with high intensity by your weary cunt.

"Albert…" You grabbed the sheets beneath you, holding them so tightly in your fists that your fingertips became white.

"I’m close."

Wesker kept one hand on your hip, and the other moved to grab your hair. The pressure made you sink deeper into the mattress.

With a shaky moan, Albert came once again, filling you up until your belly began to pump. You weakly touched your lower belly with your fingers, tracing the small bulge as a happy smile appeared on your face.

"Hmmm…" Wesker hummed after he caught his breath. "Getting full already?"

"Y-yes"

Wesker began to gently massage your scalp with his fingers, and you let out a soft moan.

"What do you say?" He asked in a low, soothing voice.

"About what?" Something tingled inside you as a warning sign that Wesker might not be done with you yet.

"About we go another round?"

"Albert…" you cried out, your head still glued to the mattress.

"Please? I want to make sure you’re full…" he said it in a sweet voice, one that made it impossible to refuse him.

"But I am full." You stood your ground. "Come, feel my belly."

Wesker lightly tapped your bulge, the sensation making you whimper. You were full, too full and you didn’t know if you were able to take another load.

"Hmmm…"

You anxiously waited for his response.

"I think there’s plenty of room."

"C’mon" you groaned in frustration, kicking your feet once.

"My love, please, I don’t want to waste another cycle. I can’t wait another month…"

"But…"

"Please…" His fingers began to caress your forehead, pulling up some strands of hair.

"Fine…but just this time."

"Excellent…"

Without a warning, he flipped you over on your back, and he quickly inserted his cock inside you. It slipped in easily, as it was half erect. From there, he threw your legs over his shoulders, and he pressed himself against your body. He began to thrust into your tired cunt again, and you grabbed his forearms for support.

Your toes curled as he hit your spot repeatedly, bringing you to the verge of your final orgasm.

He came again, and you could see with the naked eye how that bulge increased. Wesker closed his eyes as he orgasmed hard.

"Do you think this will be enough?" You were kinda afraid of the answer.

"Yes" he said as he lovingly caressed your belly bulge.

You sighed, relieved, and pressed your hand over his.

"Soon, something will grow here, something that we created."

"I can’t wait." You used your other hand to caress his cheek. You couldn’t stop watching that beautiful face of his, and you couldn’t stop admiring that expression of pure joy. His eyes were glistering with joy and happiness, as he was already picturing his future child in his arms.

Taglist: @shadow-wolf510 @skylar-todd @alegrvs.

#albert wesker smut #albert wesker x reader #resident evil

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impala-dreamer · 3 months

Text

Cherry Wine

A Tale from the 'My Bloody Valentine' Universe

~Tom left town in a hurry, escaping capture by faking his death. On the run and distraught, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.~

Tom Hanniger x Rose (OFC)

2,453 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sexual Scenes. Torture. Bondage. Psychosis. Movie Level Blood and Gore.

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "Be good for me and I'll untie you."

This takes place immediately after the film and shows Tom still dealing with his issues, namely murder. If you're unfamiliar with the movie, I doubt it will matter. Just know that he is insane and dangerous. Hope you enjoy!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't go home.

He didn't even know where home was anymore. Was it back in Harmony surrounded by memories and the corpses of his childhood? Or back in the hospital with all of his twisted pain and overly medicated thoughts?

He didn't know.

So he drove.

He drove until the sun rose and hung high in the sky, blossoming over the Pennsylvania landscape like the face of God. Bright and warm, it beat down on the maroon truck as trees blurred in his peripheral.

When the gas tank was as empty as his stomach, he pulled off of the interstate and parked, taking only his wallet and jacket with him.

The late afternoon was warm. February had been uncharacteristically mild, and he tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt, readjusting the hood behind his head.

Bill’s Diner was open and crowded. Tables lined the big front window, each red vinyl booth filled with locals who chatted over never-ending cups of coffee and plates of over-done french fries.

A little bell rang overhead as he walked in, and a pretty brunette with long hair pulled back into a tight bun smiled.

“Sit anywhere, hun,” she called to him while navigating the sea of tables with her hands full.

Tom nodded and looked around for an empty spot before deciding on a stool at the counter. He sat and slumped forward, clasped his hands on the sticky linoleum. He stared at his hands, willing the trembling to cease, but it never really went away. He was always just a little bit anxious, some part of him always shaking even if no one else saw.

Trauma had slashed at his soul and the scars ran deep.

A deep breath steadied him and Tom looked up as the waitress came into view.

“Hey there. Welcome to Bill’s. Can I getcha something to drink?”

Her smile was captivating. Her two front teeth were adorably bigger than the rest and her plump bow lips were tinted gently with a red gloss that made them look forever wet.

He couldn’t help but stare.

She blinked and looked away, pale skin blushing a soft pink under his gaze. Bright blue eyes gleamed when she turned back and Tom’s chest ached.

She reminded him of Sarah but a little plainer, a little softer all over.

“Hello?”

She waved a hand in front of his face and Tom startled, sitting up straight and shaking his head to clear his vision.

“Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “Long drive.”

The waitress nodded and grabbed a mug from below the counter. “I bet.” She filled it with coffee and slid it to Tom who smiled and closed his hands around the cup. “You coming or going?”

He bit his lip, wondering how to answer. Where was he coming from? Where was he going? To hell, probably.

Tired green eyes swept over her. The plastic buttons on her white shirt were tiny and struggling to keep the thin fabric from pulling open across her breasts. Her dark jeans were tight and dusted with flour and a few drops of marinara that had slipped past her black apron. Her curves were decadent and she smelled like vanilla.

He cleared his throat. “Just passing through.”

She smiled kindly and laid a plastic covered menu next to his coffee.

“Well, alright then, stranger. My name’s Rose. When you’re ready, just holler.” She winked and turned away, leaving him to scan the day’s specials alone.

The giant clock in the corner ticked the hours away. Customers came and went. Coins were dropped; tips were thin. Empty plates smeared with ketchup stacked up in the kitchen; spilled salt was wiped from table tops with a dingy rag.

Rose was busy most of the evening, but never too busy to stop back at the counter and talk with Tom. She lingered near him, pretending to clean while they chatted about how it hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and how the price of gas was going down a bit. She was sweet and Tom liked being near her. She was beautiful and her voice was like a calm breeze that lulled and comforted him.

When the windows were dark and the fuchsia neon glowed bright, Rose set her hands on the counter and looked down at him.

“Closing time, buddy. You don’t have to go home, butcha can’t stay here.”

He looked up through thick lashes and smiled flirtatiously. “Already?”

Rose licked her lips. “Sadly, yes. All good things must come to an end. Or so I’m told.”

“That’s a shame.” Without looking away, he drained the sweet swill from the bottom of his mug. “There any place to get a drink around here?” He paused, calculating her interest, and then went for it. He had nothing to lose. “Or maybe I could walk you home…”

Rose’s cheeks burned and her smile was impossible to hide. “Maybe both.”

Tom rolled onto his back and stretched, rolling his head on his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He hadn’t slept so well in a long time; hadn’t felt so good in forever.

Rose had been just what he needed.

They sat on her cinnamon couch and drank sparkling pink wine. Tom hated it, but the bubbles felt nice and each sip seemed to loosen her up a bit more.

When the bottle was empty and the glasses drained, Rose scooted closer and set her hand on Tom’s knee. He bit his lip as her fingers climbed higher, held his breath as she palmed his dick through his jeans, let his eyes close as she climbed into his lap.

She was heavy and warm. He ran his hands down her sides, slid his fingers around the curve of her waist. She pressed her ass down over him and rolled her hips.

He hissed at the friction and pushed a hand through her long hair, dragging her down for a kiss.

Her lips were plump and delicious. The gloss on her mouth tasted so familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.

“I never do this,” she whispered, half laughing as she ran her hands down his chest.

Tom grinned and traced the soft flesh above her jeans. “I don’t know, you’re pretty good at it.”

She chewed her lip and blushed. “I mean, take customers home. I haven’t done this in forever.”

He stared deep into her eyes and popped the bottom button of her shirt. “Well, I’m glad you decided to.” He scraped his nails down her sides and Rose’s head tipped back, her eyes fluttered shut, she hummed lustfully.

“Me too…”

He smiled and tossed the sheet off of himself; sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d have to shave soon, but it wasn’t a priority. He scratched at his scalp and yawned.

“Mornin’.”

Tom sucked a strawberry nipple between his lips and melted at the sound she made. Rose arched her back, pushing her tits against his face and grinding down on his cock.

They were mostly naked, shirts and jeans tugged away and tossed into random corners of the small living room. Only thin fabric separated them now, and Tom rubbed his middle finger against her covered slit. Her raspberry panties were soaked.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Rose nibbled on his ear. “Wanna see the bedroom?”

He jerked his hips, bounced her in his lap. “Absolutely…”

The bedroom was flooded with mid-day sun that filtered through the thin curtains, and he stood up in a sun puddle, feeling the warmth instantly. He sighed and walked to the adjoining bathroom.

The tile floor was freezing and he tiptoed in, pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the tap.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick shower, do you?”

She was total perfection.

Stretched out over the bed, her pale skin looked like fresh cream against the burgundy sheets. She moaned as he tied the silken sash tight around her left wrist, squirmed as he leaned over her to secure the right.

“Another thing I never do,” she teased, reaching with her mouth to catch a kiss.

“What’s that? Let a stranger tie you up?” His smile was devilish yet sweet and he gave in to a deep kiss.

“Not exactly a safe thing to do…”

He licked into her mouth; savored the taste of her. “No,” he laughed, pulling back to look down at her. “It’s really not.”

Blue eyes fluttered as Tom drew his hands down her nakedness. He cupped each breast, pinched her nipples, scraped his teeth against the stiff buds.

“Fuck, you’re driving me nuts,” she whimpered, tugging at the restraints, needing to touch him.

He settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them open wide. “That’s kinda the point.”

His tongue burned like fire against her clit. He nuzzled into her, lapped at her slick heat, teased her to the edge of ecstacy.

Rose bucked her hips into his handsome face, held her breath as he slipped two thick fingers inside. Her body tensed. Her mind blanked. Her pulse quickened.

“Fuck. Please…”

Again, she tugged at the sashes holding her tight and Tom lifted his eyes. He grinned at her struggle.

“Be good for me,” he breathed, “and I’ll untie you.”

Heavy, warm steam filled the room as Tom lingered by the sink. He toyed with her toothbrush, sifted through her medicine cabinet. There wasn’t much inside and everything was expected. Floss, antibiotic ointment, a few hairpins. Half a bottle of aspirin, tweezers, lotion.

He smiled. Her skin was so soft.

He slipped in like a knife through warm butter, filling her up with his thick cock.

Tom thrust against her; dug his fingertips into the soft flesh above her hip bones. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he moaned, his eyes closed, head thrown back as her body tightened around him.

Rose held her breath, wriggling harder beneath him with each jerk of his hips.

“Please!”

He looked down at her wet, ruby lips and smiled. Leaning down, he folded her nearly in half and scratched hard down her sides. She squirmed and garnet lines erupted in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

His pace quickened. She moaned loudly over the sound of his thighs slapping against her ass.

“Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race.

Rose was panting, choking on her pleasure as he fucked deep into her.

“Tom-”

He closed a hand around her delicate throat, massaged the sacred arteries on either side.

She thrashed against the bindings; eyes wide and lips growing pale.

He squeezed harder and he felt her cunt pulse as she came. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, riding her through the pleasure. “Just like that. Fuck!”

Tom closed the cabinet door. He swept away the fog with his palm and looked into his own eyes. He was happy, sated and beaming.

His lips were ruddy and swollen a deep red. He pressed his fingertips to them and sighed. He could still feel her kiss, taste her on his tongue.

She tasted like cherry wine.

He kissed her gently yet deeply, memorizing the feel of her plush lips against his and the way she melted into him. His cum ran down her leg, warm and messy.

He pulled away and rolled onto his side, yanked the thin sheet up around his shoulders.

She slept soundly; he mumbled in his sleep.

Tom stepped into the hot water and moaned happily. The pressure was sublime. Water pounded his aching muscles, burned his skin blissfully.

He ran his hands through his hair and turned around to face the spray. It washed down his cheeks, flowed into his mouth. He looked down at the drain and gasped as a whirlpool of crimson swirled around the chrome and disappeared.

“The fuck?”

His mind raced.

His hands were stained with dried blood; his forearms scored with claw marks.

He panicked, panting as the water washed the night away and his memory returned.

He ripped through her skin like a knife through warm butter.

Tom jabbed the blade into her; dug the tip into the soft flesh above her hip bones.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, green eyes wide as he watched the blood flow from her sides.

Rose gasped for a breath and wrenched her arms free of the silk sashes. She slapped at his chest, shoved his face away.

“Please!”

He looked down at her gaping ruby lips and smiled. With a murderous gleam in his eyes, he scratched hard down her side with the knife and watched the garnet stream erupt in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

She kicked at him, summoning all of her strength to push him off even as her energy seeped away and soaked into the sheets. “Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race and his cock twitch.

Barely able to breathe, Tom burst from the shower and steadied himself on the sink, knuckles blanching as he held on tight. He forced himself to look at his reflection and nearly broke as he saw the lingering blood on his cheeks. The splatter had been fast and furious- an arterial spray that painted his face from temple to chin.

“Fuck…”

He closed his left hand around her delicate throat, harshly pinching the sacred arteries on either side.

Rose clawed at his arms, drawing blood as she fought for her life.

He squeezed harder and felt her pulse slow. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, lifting the knife to her jaw. “Just like that.” He sliced through her vocal chords, silencing her cries forever. A sanguine tide covered her milky breasts, stained his steady hands.

Through a cloud of steam, Tom stumbled back into the bedroom and bit back a scream.

Rose was laid out on the right side of the bed, her naked body posed as if sleeping. Her throat was torn, her sides split, chest carved open exposing the pale bones caging her heart.

He swallowed down a wave of bile and fell to his knees.

“Not again…”

Above the bed, drawn in Rose’s blood, was a simple heart.

Tom laughed as the last bit of life drained from her beautiful face. He bent to kiss her cold lips, savoring the last taste of her, memorizing the soft push of her lips.

He licked the blood from his fingertips as he rolled over, tired and sated.

She tasted like cherry wine.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@akshi8278 @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

#my bloody valentine #jacklesversebingo23 #fanfic #jensen ackles #tom hanniger

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petrssecrethideout · 11 days

Text

"Bro, do you wanna hear about something crazy?"

"I mean sure, go ahead,"

"Alright, so I was just relaxing, scrolling TikTok,"

"Already a bad idea."

"I know, I got beef with that fuckin' algorithm let me tell you. I follow a couple of bodybuilders, post a couple of gym vids and suddenly my For you page is filled with the biggest assholes alive. Anyway, I'm scrolling, and I see this guy, he's doing that whole 'alpha top dog' thing even though he's not that big."

"Okay wait pause, how big is not that big?"

"I don't know, I have more muscle in my arms than he has in his whole body, real gym influencer type."

"Alright, for anyone listening to the pod at home, I should probably just say that this guy could be anywhere from 150-300 pounds from Dale's description of him, okay? He's not good at judging what normal guys look like anymore."

"Yeah, okay, you got me. Anyway, this guy keeps going on about his great advice, so I stick around to hear it. You wanna know what he said? 'Stop Cumming, its killing your natural testosterone' What kind of bullshit is that!?"

"I mean that is a big part of the current fitness world, these guys will say anything to get more followers, and a lot of their followers are so desperate for progress that they'll take whatever advice they're given."

"It's a shame, because he's also wrong! I tried that whole 'No Nut Whatever' and its been the only time in these last 5 years that I've plateaued."

"... Really?"

"Yeah! If I'm not cranking a load out every day I can kiss any potential gains goodbye."

"Wait,"

"Like after my workouts, when I got a huge pump going, I just have to crank one out, like what good workout would it be if I didn't"

"Dale c'mon,"

"And its not like I can just hit up a guy on Grindr and go to town every time I need to, there aren't enough guys on Grindr for that."

"Uggggh dude, we are never getting a sponsor with you talking like this."

"What, so all the straight alpha dudebros can talk about semen retnetion and get a ton of followers, but I get censored for talking about jacking off and getting tons of ass?"

"Yeah, we will."

"Well then, listeners, go subscribe to the patreon so that I can talk about my actual tips for growing, and so that you can help Mark get bigger. I'm telling you, I'm gonna make this boy huge with your help. Audio listeners make sure to check the videos so you can see this boy get huge. Now bro, help me out here. You don't want those Tiktok gymfluencers to win do you? How often are you jerkin off?"

"Oh god I can't believe I'm answering this... A couple of times a week maybe?"

"A week? That's fucking crazy. My average is like 4-5 times a day. More if I'm really feeling horny. If I'm being honest I jerked off a few weeks ago on the pod, like I forgot to before I came here. One of the comments mentioned something about my grunting that episode."

"Jesus christ dude, how do you even manage that?"

"Well, you gotta work up to it. I couldn't do that starting out, but once I started growing I was so horny I had to do something about it. I think that's what these guys don't get. You gotta get those balls working, give them a reason to keep making that sweet testosterone. How are you supposed to do that if you aren't jacking it? Honestly dude, I feel like I gotta prove these guys wrong now."

"What, you're gonna be a cum warrior?"

"Hell yeah man, I'm gonna be fighting the war on jerking it, on the side of jerking it!"

#ai muscle #muscle fiction #cumcast

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missmaywemeetagain · 10 months

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Sweet Symphony 🎻❤️‍🔥🎹, a '68 Special Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

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tommydarlings · 7 months

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pairing: dark!boss!toto x driver!reader

warnings: chocking, manipulation

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

“You can’t keep me in your team next to Lewis if I don’t want-” you complained but Toto — your boss quickly interrupted you,

He raised his voice, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he spat at you in a deep, demanding tone as he removed his back from the wall he was leaning against and slowly walked over to you, staring down at your figure.

You raised your brows and briefly chuckled at his statement, angrily pointing your finger up at him, “Not if I refuse to sign the contract,” you said while trying to sound and look intimidating but you knew that it was no use, he was visibly more intimidating than you.

As he stood in front of you, eyes glaring down at you while a dark gaze was filling them, he clenched his jaw before he suddenly pulled a pen out of the pocket of his pants.

You glanced down at the blue pen before you put your gaze back on your tall boss.

Then you slightly furrowed your brows before he placed his big hands onto your hips, slowly turning your body around, forcing you to look down at the contract which is laying on the table in front of the two of you.

Toto caged you between both of his arms as you felt his nose running along the back of your head.

God, was he tall.

“You’re gonna sign the contract now and stay with me and this team until I throw you out for acting like such a brat, understood?” He mumbled deeply into your ear from behind, placing the pen right next to the contract.

You gulped, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head, “I said t-that I d-don’t-”

“Do you want me to ruin your formula one career? Do you want me to spread the rumor that you’ve slept with your boss? You want me to make you look like the biggest whore the internet has ever seen, huh?” Your boss threatened you, making you gasp as your hands started shaking.

He took a deep breath and ran his nose along your temple before he continued, “Because I can for sure arrange that, schatzi,” he said in a quiet tone.

The Austrian then picked the pencil back up again and forced it into your palm, positioning his chin on top of your head as he led your hand into the direction of where you need to sign the contract.

He quickly gave you a short peck onto the top of your head, “Now sign the contract and stay with me for forever, baby,” he whispered.

With a shaking hand, he forced you to sign the contract, tears already running down your cheeks as he kissed your wet temple,

“Just Like that,” he whispered in a deep tone as you put the pen back down again, gulping before he ran his hands along your upper arms, smiling down at you and now signed contract,

Toto squeezed your upper arms, “And just so you know… I dare you to tell anyone about this, you understand?” He slowly put one of his hands around your throat, “Try it and see what happens,” he spat at you as he squeezed your throat.

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #Toto Wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #Toto Wolff x f1 Driver #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #classic f1 #f1edit #mercedes amg f1 #f1 2023 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #smut

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jarofstyles · 1 year

Note

“Like being used, don’t you? Tell me you like it. Say, ‘daddy, I’m just a hole for you to use.’” BLURB WITH THIS.

PLEWSE THIS IS SO… filthy idk what I just wrote 😇 also not safe for Ramadan in the slightest!

Sorry this was sitting in drafts for a bit here we go 😁

Patreon

—-

Her eyes burned with tears that fell down her face. It wasn’t from anger or sadness, no- it was from pleasure. Feeling herself get filled to the brim and fucked the way she needed to with the man’s grip tight in her hair, keeping her face up as her body jolted underneath him.

“Like being used, don’t you?” Harry’s dark voice made her shiver. Mostly because it was true. Y/N knew some people would rather drop dead than let someone use them, but with Harry? It felt too fucking good. She wouldn’t stop it. She wouldn’t dare. His filthy mouth paired with the best dick she had ever had filling her up? It was a perfect thing.

“I do.” She grinned despite the tears falling from her eyes. Her body was shaking, another orgasm threatening to take over. Her whole body was wrecked, 2 orgasms in and she was over sensitive and over stimulated but she couldn’t help but want more. As long as Harry was willing to give it, she wanted to take every inch of it. The pain and pleasure mixed with each movement had her toes curling.

“Tell me then. That mouth is good for more than sucking me off, isn’t it?” If you heard him like this, you’d never believe the way he was so gentle and tender with her, worshipping the ground she walks on. But it was true. This deprived man was obsessed with her, gave her whatever she want. In the bedroom, though? She was his whore. “Tell Daddy you’re just a hole for him to use.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling him release her hair so she could fall back into her pillows. The thrusts were deep and hard and god, she loved every fucking second. “I love your cock, Daddy. Jus’ a hole for you to use n’fuck and leave your cum. Promise. M’your hole, I’ll do anything- just don’t stop.” The close proximity to her orgasm fueled the degrading words, his hand swatting her ass and making her shudder underneath him as he quickened his hips.

“That’s it. Know your place, my sweet girl. Just lay there like the pretty toy you are and let Daddy make you cum.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #Harry smut #harry styles daddy kink

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godsandvillains-if · 9 months

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Just as I promised, It's official! Gods and Villains now has a PATREON!! 🚩🚩

Right now, I have one big love side story and one on the smaller side ready to go! The big-short is set sometime during the story, and our dear Stardom finally returns home after a rather difficult covert mission, but don't worry, you are there to welcome them home (± 5k words). The smaller one features Archon and the MC sometime in the crush stage of their relationship! Aside from that, you can check out the complete Archon's character sheet as well, which is filled with juicy details on The Alliance's leader that you can't find anywhere else!! 😋

There are two side stories and a complete character sheet, these are two love interests you can get to know a little more about before things begin to get serious, so enjoy! In addition to that, you guys can read a NSFW Q&A on Ace and a voting poll on the next month's character sheet.

By supporting my Patreon you will get early access to updates, numerous side stories (including NSFW content😏), different P.O.Vs, artworks, and many many other cool stuff!! And! I'll manage to dedicate even more time to this world that I'm so happy I will be able to help create!! ✨🎉

#patreon #patreon launch #choiceofgames #if: gods and villains #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #if #choice of games #if wips #hosted games #choicescript

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reimenaashelyee · 5 months

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Clean version here

Not a bingo but a jenga. My responses below the cut

Somehow I have half of this image filled out. I wish I could cash it in for points to redeem.

Jenga:

First comic is a magnum opus: There had been a string of graphic novel adaptations of books I wanted do when I as a young teenager, but The World in Deeper Inspection was my first, substantial, original behemoth of an idea. It was the only one with the power and the potential to stay and push me to become a comics creator. Everything I am and have as an artist and writer is because of TWIDI.

Fan art more popular than OCs: This was going to be inevitable because I hardly ever post about them online. But I suppose if you count my one-off character design illustrations that go viral or my published graphic novels, this box wouldn’t be true… (The God of Arepo is my most popular fan work)

I binged your life’s work in 2 hours: I am glad you like my work enough to be this engrossed in it – but honestly please please reread it again and SLOWLY so you can appreciate the visual storytelling – not just the words and the main action!! You’ll have a fuller experience if you take the time to luxuriate!!

This isn’t even my day job: It both is and isn’t. I do enough from comics that I can survive out of it near full time (thanks to my usual speed; very grateful), but I get financial stability from the monthly paycheck from the actual day job. Relying on my speed to produce near-constant output for money is something I am losing interest in as my ideas become more ambitious and niche.

Subscribe to my Patreon: Somehow I am able to hawk my free-to-read platforms with a certain amount of success but never can get a big dent on my Ko-fi.

Received unsolicited critique on a free comic: Unavoidable reality. Though I hadn’t had something egregious in a long time (and it better stay that way).

Had to explain what a webcomic even is to someone IRL: Nearly all the people I surround myself with are ‘normies’ (people who aren’t so online and/or don’t read online media), so this comes up often – and it will become more frequent as I pursue institutional pathways like residencies and grants. Even if they knew what webcomics were, it would be under the name of webtoons.

I can’t wait to draw this scene in 4 years: lol @ Alexander Comic and TWIDI

Multi-year hiatus: TWIDI’s eternal curse, until I figure out how to build enough stability in my career/life to return to it – full-time and for real.

Financially supported by someone else: My dayjob, mainly, but previously my parents.

Is somehow mutuals with favourite artist: That’s what it’s like as your career progresses and matures! It’s always nice to become peers with those you admire – especially the ones you grow to love only after knowing them.

Characters get gayer over time: Growing up and being able to witness the various ways of living can and will change how one approaches their characters.

Successfully fulfilled a Kickstarter: Not on my own, but I had a few for my books that published smoothly.

Empty space:

ADHD diagnosis: I have ADHD-esque behaviours that I have managed to overcome with ADHD-specific hacks, but whether I actually have the thing itself is a question mark. I lean towards not really having it since I am able to execute and complete tasks regularly.

Works in animation or went to school for it: I used to want to study and work in animation before I discovered the potential of comics as a storytelling medium. I don’t have a desire to break into that industry, even without all the employment and late-capitalism instability that it’s going through right now. I am not averse to trying if asked, however.

Had an art teacher who hated anime: Never went to art school.

Yes I’ve had burnout but what about second burnout: Currently going through a fallow period, but I really don’t think it’s Burnout Burnout. Touch wood, I continue to maintain my love, interest and desire to make comics and stay in my artistic career.

Forgot how to draw main character’s face: Characters are so seared into my brain, it’s not easy to forget. Helps that they each have particular quirks that belong to their design.

This comic gave me my hand/wrist injury: Still out here WITHOUT any of those. I hope I can keep it that way until whenever I retire.

Emergency commissions: Hopefully I will never have to resort to do this. (Very grateful, yes)

Sleep… “schedule”? my 7-8 hours of sleep is essential and non-negotiable.

If it’s not 3 hours long is it even worth adding to the work playlist: This is is referring to video essays I guess? I rarely ever encounter essays of over 3 hours that I am interested enough to watch. (Also I can’t really watch something while drawing; I lose speed/concentration)

Embarrassed to look at early pages: Not embarrassed – I was younger and less-skilled then, that’s just how it is. There were a lot of things younger me did that I could still learn from.

Regrets costume choices: I pride myself in being able to style myself and my characters, and so far I have never regretted the clothes I give my characters – the TWIDI characters all have base outfits from when I was 15!

#artist meme

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