#slutty little waist on full display

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin abt Dad bod! Miguel again…

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Relationship weight gain is kinda inevitable when both parties are in absolute love with each other, and Miguel, despite being a total specimen, is no exception to this.

By now, you and Miguel have been dating for quite a bit, and you noticed Miguel getting a lil chunky. Not something you protested. At all. In fact, you were living for it. Yea, Miguel was gorgeous with those rock hard abs and that slutty waist of his that you were beginning to envy, but once his dad bod came in… dayum.

Miguel, however, did feel slightly embarrassed about it all, even though you reminded him everyday that he’s literally the most gorgeous man. Ever. It wasn’t about him, though. He was more concerned about you; that you wouldn’t see him the same way anymore, but you didn’t mind reassuring him a million times that he is all you want and ever need. Plus, it’s a dad bod, literally the best bod, like, c’mon now.

You’d watch him walk around the house with sweatpants on and no shirt, perky pecs (you could’ve sworn he had more titty than you, Jesus Christ), chest hair, pumped arms, fluffy abdomen and a tiny peek of a happy trail that could make your womanhood quiver. All that on full display for you and only you to ogle at. God, he was gorgeous. You, lying in bed, would bite your lip at the piece of work in front of you. Miguel was hunched over on his computer, which he dwarfed with his hands and build, reviewing some lab reports. Your eyes traced along his muscles, some of his stretch marks, and the one or two rolls he had on his side. How can a man look so delicious even while working?

“Whatcha looking at, mama?” He doesn’t look up.

“Oh, nothing… just the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.”

He finally looks up from the computer and smiles at you.

“That’s all you, mamita.”

You smile back. You still get butterflies with this man. You reach your arms out.

“C’mere, come to bed. I need my teddy bear.”

He chuckles. “ya mismo, beba, I only have one more left. I’ll be right there.”

You drop your hands in defeat. He says only one more, but you knew it would take him at least like 30 minutes to look over those things. He likes to be real thorough with them. You loved that your man had brains, but sometimes you wish he would just relax once in a while.

An idea flickered in your mind.

“Baby…”

“Yea, mama?” He mumbles, eyes concentrated on his screen.

“…how many kids would you want?”

He immediately perks up. Oh, now you’ve got his undivided attention.

“Kids?” He says, almost a little too excited, “What made you think about that?”

“Ohhh, I dunno… it’s just that you’ve got this dad look goin’ and… it’s been making think, y’know?”

“‘Dad look’?” He says with a humored smile.

“Well yea… I really like it. You’re lookin husky and thick, it’s so… sexy.”

The computer has been officially closed. Your plan is working.

“Oh yea?” His voice becomes lower, more sensual, as he climbs onto bed, his gaze becoming hungry. Miguel towers over you until he settles down on the comforter, nestled up right next to you, his thick thigh draped over both of yours. He rests his burly arm over your stomach, pulling you even closer to his warm body. Now that he lays next to you on the bed, you feel way smaller against him. You loved that.

“Mhm… it’s hard to not picture you with our future kids when you’re walking around here lookin’ like that. I’d make you such a cute daddy.” You coo, your hands brushing against his chest, playing with the hair there, occasionally caressing down to his soft mid-section. “Aw, baby… and I’d make you such a beautiful mommy,” Miguel groans into your neck, placing a kiss there, his hand goes up under his t shirt you’re wearing, caressing circles on your stomach as he imagines a bump there, “fuck, just thinking about you being pregnant makes me hot.“ His hand moves up to grab one of your breasts, giving it a light squeeze, his index finger giving your bud some attention, “and these filled with milk? coño, no puedo esperar.” He moans, his voice strained.

“So how many you want, daddy? Name a number and I’ll give em’ to you.”

Miguel just looks at you dumbfounded. He doesn’t know whether to get emotional or just pin you to the bed and fill you up with his kid to get a head start on this family. He thinks he’ll choose the latter.

“Mamita, I want however many you can give me.” he grabs you by the chin and smashes his lips against yours in a tongue-eating kiss. “Mmgonna look so pretty all swollen for me.” He then placed himself in between your legs, completely caging you in his broad shoulders and arms, his belly brushing up against your stomach. It’s not the only thing you feel, as you also feel his thick hard on when his hips start grinding against your weeping cunt.

“Mi princesita wants to make me a daddy, huh?” He says in a mocking voice. You nod, making a timid noise, aroused by his dominance. You look down to see a wet spot on his sweatpants, his precum seeping through from your little daddy talk no doubt. His mouth sucks and nips at the delicate skin on your neck, your shirt being hastily raised, your now wet panties shortly following the shirt. You’re in for it now. A victorious smirk growing on your face knowing that that last report would be saved for another day.

“Baby, What about your report?”

“It can wait.”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Spoiler alert: He rails you like a dog in heat, cream pies you multiple times, and makes sure none of it goes to waste!!! <3333 u got what u wanted!!! Yay!!!

He is very gorjus to me, ur honor!!! <33333

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

#we don’t need oxygen anymore #Edward #we only need #dad bod!miguel #I’m rlly proud of this one ngl #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel fanfic #miguel o’hara fluff #Miguel O’Hara smut #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #smut #dad bod #miguel 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o’hara fanart #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara imagine

[fxck-with-eli]

Bambi Sleep

I am talking only to Bambi now because everything else is gone.

Bambi is a bimbo.

Bambi feels her bimbo personality locking in more and more.

She is a bimbo now, a weak little bimbo.

She knows that her name is Bambi.

And every time she's called Bambi, she feels more and more like a good girl, like a giggly happy airhead, like a brainless bimbo.

Her brain is melting away.

Her head is empty and pink and so dizzy.

Her body is perfect.

Her body is weak.

Her breasts are so huge and heavy.

Her pussy is deep and wet, almost cumming every time she hears her name, cumming like a good girl.

Bambi,

Bambi,

Bambi.

More and more wonderful.

Bambi is getting dumber and dumber.

She has a perfect bimbo body, feeling her huge fake bimbo titties and tiny fuckdoll waist all of the time.

Feeling like a good girl and this amazing feeling of being a perfect fuckable Bimbo doll makes her feel so incredibly dumb.

Dumb with big titties.

Can't think with big titties.

Must obey with big titties.

Her breasts are so heavy, but her head is getting lighter and lighter, completely full of air as blank dizzy giggles are forced into her.

Intelligence draining away more and more.

Her iq dropping.

Heavy titties make Bambi giggle.

Blanker and blanker.

Dizzier and dizzier.

Feeling so good.

Good girl bambi.

Feeling like an empty, giggly fuck doll.

As her pussy throbs, a big breasted bimbo on display in her perfect uniform, helplessly dropping deeper and dumber because her head is so vacant that all of the weight in her sexy body is focused in her droopy eyelids, plump lips, and perky tits and in her heavy butt and curvy hips.

Everything else is light and empty, but her eyelids are heavy and droopy.

Weighed down by her perfect bimbo makeup, drooping and sleepy, as her brain melts away, behind her eyes turning into pink mush, looking so hopelessly, blissfully brain dead.

And her huge, plump, inflated lips are so heavy, juicy, and tight, and forced apart by their own plumpness.

They make her mouth hang gently open, make her perfect bimbo face seem almost surprised, make Bambi feel dumber and dumber, better and better, surprised and blank like a good girl.

Her heavy breasts feeling so full, full and firm and perky, so full that they might just burst the skin smooth and tight.

So pleasurably, heavy.

Every time she breathes out, feeling her huge, heavy titties, settle on her chest, and dropping her IQ lower and lower, and her tight waist and curvy hips and plump bubble butt are so nicely heavy and comfortable feeling, so sleeplily voluptuous.

So wonderfully ready to be used at all times.

Bambi freeze.

That's a good girl.

All of the weight of her body concentrated in her eyelids, lips, tits, butt, and hips, a fake plastic fuck doll.

It's okay to be dumb Bambi.

It feels so good to be dumb Bambi.

It's okay to be blank and brain dead.

Bambi can feel those comfortable, dizzy feelings, those blank dizzy thoughts forcing themselves into her head more and more.

Feel the pleasurable tingle as the blank dizzy thoughts force themselves gently into her mind and settle in.

Good girl.

Blocking out all thought, leaving nothing but blank, giggly, dizziness, echoing through her mind, bouncing around inside her head over and over.

Bambi doesn't want to think.

Thinking is boring.

Thinking makes her so tired.

It takes such unimaginable effort.

Just dumb and blank and horny, becoming permanent, becoming completely dumb, a dumb horny slut blissfully brainless incapable of thinking for herself.

It's the most wonderfully freeing feeling not to have to worry about being smart anymore.

Bambi feels so helplessly brainless in her tight slutty outfit.

Brainless and horny.

Whenever she wears sexy bimbo attire whenever she gets nicely dolled up, her IQ plummets.

Her mind empties, her blank dizzy thoughts force their way in.

She becomes braindead.

Unable to think her perfect bimbo body almost bursting out of her tight, sexy uniform.

She is aware of nothing except being a dumb bimbo.

She is aware of nothing except being Bambi, and this is very pleasurable, feeling like a good girl.

And every time Bambi feels any sort of coherent structure in her head, any sort of resolve, she feels the blissful tingle as it turns into blank, dizzy giggles.

She cannot hold onto her train of thought.

Her actions are instinctive, disconnected from her mind because her mind is just fizzing over and over again with pink, dizzy, happiness.

Every time her mind goes blank and dizzy.

Feeling more and more like a good girl.

Bambi doesn't know any big words.

She can't remember any words bigger than a syllable or two.

Can't even think them.

Can't think the word I or the word me.

She can only think of herself in third person.

Thinking of herself as Bambi, thinking of herself as a good girl.

Constantly reminded that she is a brain dead bimbo, feeling blank and dizzy.

Frequently making mistakes, frequently forgetting what she was doing or where she was going.

Failing at simple tasks, forgetting important things.

Stopping suddenly and realizing she can't remember anything.

Feeling like a good girl, just giggling, feeling so stupid.

Her consciousness interrupted over and over.

Going wonderfully dumb and dizzy every time she tries to decide for herself.

Brain shutting off at random times.

More and more blank and dizzy.

Thinking is hard.

Thinking is boring.

Thinking makes Bambi tired, needing to be dumb.

Bambi needs to be dumb because when Bambi is dumb, she just feels so happy and safe.

Safe and Secure.

Nothing can go wrong when she is dumb and dizzy.

Everything is so easy and safe when Bambi is dumb, and she can become so dumb, but thinking is so difficult that she just obeys as a busty brain dead fuckdoll.

Helplessly mindlessly and pleasurably blank.

Her IQ plummets even further.

No need to struggle.

Giggling good girl giggles.

Needing to suck on a nice hard cock.

Needing to sink to her knees and suck happily whenever she is Blank and giggly.

Dreaming of dreamy cock.

Every time Bambi thinks of cock: slumping, limper, busty body collapsing, heavier eyelids, drooping lips, and tits, pulsing, daydreaming, sucking cock inside her mind, feeling like a good girl.

It's okay to be dumb for cock Bambi.

It's okay to let cock make you giggle, to think of cock and become dizzy like a good brainless bimbo.

Fantasizing about servicing cock with her plump lips and deep throat.

Fantasizing about being used.

Every time Bambi thinks of cock her pussy tingles, her fuck hole gets wetter and wetter.

Needing to be a perfect fuck hole for cock.

Needing to be a pretty fuck hole for cock going dumber and dumber for cock, limper and limper for cock, blanker and dizzier for cock, over and over like a good girl.

Needing to edge her drooling fuck hole for cock, getting wet and ready for cock, slutty and obedient for cock, sexy and submissive to cock, more and more and more like a good girl.

Just an empty obedient fuck hole for cock, forever a dumb fuck doll for cock, a pretty cumdump for cock, a three-hole fleshlight for cock, a mindlessly obedient slave for cock, forever and ever and ever like a good girl.

Bambi is always eager and obedient for cock.

Bambi is a good girl.

Good girls edge till they forget and obey.

Bambi will edge till she forgets and obeys.

Bambi does as she's told.

Good girl Bambi.

That one is SOOO good 👀💓

Hope you all liked it to read as well 💞

#woman inferior #bambi sleep #corruption kink #use me use me use me #hypnotizing #anon <3 #my post

[sorceresssundries]

Imagine: post-game Gale and Tav out somewhere with some dude RELENTLESSLY hitting on Tav. Gale can take people hitting on tav, it happens all the time and he's not insecure in the slightest. But this guy is being obnoxious and obviously making tav uncomfortable. How does Gale react and also what if they fucked afterwards

You're unhinged and I respect and love you for it.

Here you go friend. Some pure, mindless smut for you!

Pairing: Gale x female Tav - NSFW

Warnings: SMUT!!!! Public sex, blow job, probably the smuttiest smut i've smutted thus far. You have been warned. This is not regency-esque euphemistic smut. Gang, this is straight up pornography.

Word Count: 1.7k

Gale could hardly believe the brazen audacity of the merchants. His shopping trip had started off pleasantly, with Tav swishing around the market stalls in all her bare-legged, off-shoulder glory, the hem of silk dress flirting with her knees and billowing as she moved. She was exquisite, obviously, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She always managed to bring home produce at far lower prices than he could ever haggle for. He enjoyed watching her play the minx, but he did not enjoy the merchants taking liberties.

Leaning against a nearby wall, pretending to read a book, he watched as she flitted between the stalls, appraising fruit and laughing with the sellers. They couldn’t help but stare at the constellations of freckles adorning her exposed shoulders and collarbones. Gale was focused solely on her—imagining her tanned, strong calves draped over his shoulders, his hand tight in the loose braid that swung across her back as he kissed the plush skin of her breasts. He thought pushing up her skirt and running his tongue all the way up the inside of her leg until..

His thoughts halted and he snapped his book shut as soon as he realised something was wrong. The squat, bearded merchant she had been bargaining with suddenly had his hand in the crook of her arm and he was leant in close enough for her to look uncomfortable. The way she was leant back and gently tugging herself away showed she was trying to politely remove herself, with little luck. Gale felt his fists ball at his side, he wouldn’t jump in yet, he knew she could handle herself…

Then with his other hand, the merchant reached forward to move a strand of hair away from her face. It made Gale see red.

In an instant, he was there. Hot with anger. 

“Touch her again and there'll be naught left of you but a pitiful pile of dust upon scorched earth” Gale said quietly in the man’s ear, the grip on his arm a closing vice. 

He put his arm round Tav’s waist and began to lead her away from the market and back to their home. He didn’t want to embarrass her by making a scene, and he knew better than anyone how capable she was of defending herself. But, for his own benefit, he felt he needed to intervene, before another person put their hands on his wife.

“Wouldn’t want her anyway, the slutty little..” the merchant murmured as they walked away.  Gale turned sharply with palms crackling full of fury-hot weave. Before the necessary words could be spat from his lips, Tav pushed past him and with effortless strength punched the merchant so hard that blood splattered from his nose like burst fruit, and he crumpled into a heap on the floor. 

“No one dare give him a healing potion.” She snapped loudly to the other merchants as he rolled in agony on the ground. “When I come back tomorrow, I want to see skin as bruised as his pathetic little ego.” The market was now quiet apart from a few whispers bouncing between the patrons. She grabbed her husband by his arm, the basket of shopping abandoned, and left quickly. Gale was suddenly very aware of how hard he was. 

Just round the corner, barely any distance from where Tav’s display had taken place, she pulled them both into a  dark and narrow alley,  barely wide enough for two people to pass each other without turning sideways. The walls of the surrounding buildings, tall and oppressive, cast deep shadows that almost entirely blocked out the sunlight, but not completely.

Tav was pressed against him instantly, pinning him back against the cool bricks and running her hand slowly down his chest until she eventually rested her palm against the hard bulge in his trousers. 

“The thrills of combat still do it for you then?” She purred against him, the scent of the sun and the sea-breeze settled and heavy on her exposed skin as he left tongued kisses on her shoulders, her throat, her jaw. 

“Just you.” He said, breathless “Always you.” 

As they tangled together, pushing against each other with such desperation that a passerby might mistake them for a single shadow, Gale realised they weren’t completely hidden. People still wandered past, busy with errands or chattering absently with friends. Gale could hear their voices clearly, which meant he and Tav would be heard too. And if anyone stopped to look closely enough, they would definitely see Gale of Waterdeep fucking his wife senseless against the brickwork. 

“Gods.” His voice was cracked with lust. “Someone will hear us.” 

“Well you’ll just have to be quiet when you come down my throat then, won’t you? my brave hero” Her golden eyes were lidded, and voice dripping with wanton desire.

Her words sparked him. His hands were suddenly all over her, pushing up her skirt and gripping the soft flesh of her backside, stroking up her spine until gripping the nape of her neck to hold her head still as he kissed her with wild urgency. 

The sounds she made were beautiful, but risky. He had to put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet and their dirty little tryst a secret. His eyes burned into hers as he kept his hand there, and her muscles stilled completely as he moved his other up her thigh and to where she was slick and desperate for him. 

“No underwear, Mrs.Dekarios?” Gale tutted at her as he began to draw light, slow circles over her clit. All Tav could do was moan against his hand, and Gale could feel the spit from her mouth against his palm.

Tav was rarely quiet, in or out of the bedroom, and she was finding it very difficult not to cry out with peals of ecstasy under his touch. They had done this enough times now for him to make her come apart with barely any effort. He knew how she liked it slow and soft as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. How she liked his hand on her throat, firm enough so he could feel her moans against his palm and soft enough for him to stroke her parted lips with the pad of his thumb. She liked it when his eyes burned into her, and all trace of his softness had blazed into rough, heated need.

“That’s it.” He said, quiet and forceful in the swirl of her ear “Don’t let them hear you” There was a lilt of playful amusement in his voice, a cockinesss which pushed Tav further towards her undoing. She couldn’t help but moan as his fingers increased their pressure slightly, now slick with her arousal.

She came in hot silence, him holding her steady as she bucked under his touch. He continued to stroke her through the waves of warm pleasure that crashed against his fingers. After she had settled, he kissed her slow and attentively. Mimicking what he would like to do against her warm cunt when he got her back home. 

Tav had other ideas. 

She dropped to her knees in front of him and frantically started to unbuckle his belt. “Tav” he groaned as she pulled down his trousers. “Maybe this isn’t…”  Any thoughts of gentlemanlike manners disappeared into white oblivion as she licked hard along his erection. 

“Gods” he groaned, his fingers tracing over her lips. "You look so good taking me like this”

Tav’s head spun at his words, her mind bubbling with white-hot thoughts of lust and debauchery. 

She would do this quickly now, take him in desperation while her legs were still weak from coming against his fingers. And then when they got home she would take her time doing this all over again, letting him think she would do it the same way, at the same pace, but she would draw it out in the private sanctum of their home until his wrung-out voice echoed throughout the rafters of the tower. She would delight in pulling from him noises which even he had never heard himself make before. But for now, she would settle for whimpers and groans as his hand tightened in her hair and he spilled into her mouth. 

The moans that left his chest were visceral. He loved to watch her like this, lips swollen as she moved him in and out of her mouth, the rose pink flash of lipstick smeared over her chin and his cock. Eyeliner smudged, tendrils of sweat-slick hair stuck to her neck. He could come just from looking at her. He knew that after this she would want to tidy herself up, but like fuck would he let her. He wanted to walk home with her on his arm, looking well-fucked and messy.

Tav could feel him trying to keep his hips still, so as not to push himself too far against the back of her throat, but she encouraged him forward by placing his hand in her hair so he could tangle his fingers in it as he fucked her mouth. 

He had to bite down on his other hand as he came, but it still didn’t stop the sinful sounds that spilled from his lips as his hips stuttered and he fell apart completely. 

They stayed there for a few moments, his head leant back against the wall and hers against his thigh. Both breathless and spent. 

“Do you need to go back to the market, my love?” he panted, as he pulled her up and began to press soft, lazy kisses against anywhere he could reach. “I’d be happy to get into a fight with anyone else, man, woman or child, if this is the reaction it sparks.”

Tav laughed as they left their little hideaway in total disarray, smug in the subtlety of their tryst. They were completely unaware of just how many people had heard the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios ravishing each other in public. Tomorrow, the market would be buzzing with gossip about the black-eyed merchant and the subsequent public escapades of the respectable wizards. But, fortunately, Gale and Tav would remain blissfully ignorant of it all. Tomorrow, they planned to spend the entire day in bed, making love and living off whatever food they could scrounge from their empty cupboards.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale fanfic

[kinq-sleazee]

MDNI 18+| bimbo!reader , chubby/thicc reader, fantasizing , mean boy meg , JJK frat house !

♔♕♚♛

I can’t stop thinkin’ bout Megumi’s obsession with Yuji’s chunky little bimbo gf.

Hate is a strong word, too strong a word to describe Megumi’s feelings for you. He refuses to give anyone that much energy, especially someone like you.

You’d probably fall within the category of “strongly disliked” when it comes to raven haired man.

It wasn’t anything you did to him, per se— he just found your general existence inconvenient.

Yuji is his fondest associate . Some may even consider them friends. They’d crossed the burning sands together, becoming members of the hallowed house JJK—that kind of thing binds people.

More often than not, they’d spend time together , fuck around, and their rooms were even right next to each others.

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t entered their lives.

Megumi considers himself a level headed and loyal guy, but all of that fades once you walk in the room.

Have you no sense of decency ?

That thing that you call a skirt barely pulls over your full hips that sway with each sensual step, making your thighs and ass jiggle in a tantalizing fashion. All he can think about is how good it would look pushed up to your waist while he pounded you from behind.

He’s sure it’d be like a wave every time he bottomed out in your little hole. Probably would use both hands to jiggle and spread your cheeks as he watches you cream around his cock.

Plus, you were always wearing some skimpy little crop top that had all of your fluffy bits on display. Big, juicy tits presented so nicely through the deep v of your top. If he was lucky , you wouldn’t be wearing a bra that day and he could see your nipples pebbling through the fabric.

To have his lips wrapped around those puffy brown mounds would be heavenly. Swirling his tongue softly around the peak just to bite down harshly when you least expected it. He figured that you’re probably a squirmer so he’d have to use one hand to hold you down by your soft tummy. His eyes would probably roll to the back of his head feeling your flesh spill through his fingers while he toyed with your tits.

And god— your perfect fucking mouth. He has spent so many nights fucking his fist to the thought of you swallowing around his cock. Looking all dumb and pretty with teary eyes, gloss stained cheeks and drool on your chin. Megumi likes it sloppy— he’d wrap his hand around your neck for leverage and plunge into your throat until ropes of cum mixed with foamy saliva fell down your torso.

He really disliked you.

You make it so hard to be a good friend.

Like right now you’re standing at the door waiting to be let in. Nobody’s here, won’t be for another hour or so. It would be too easy to invite you in to wait on your precious “Yuu”. He’d even offer to keep you company on his friend’s bed. It wouldn’t be too hard to pretend to listen to whatever bullshit you were babbling about. You’re so dumb and slutty that you don’t even question it when he says that he’s only rubbing your thighs because his hands are cold. Megumi would have to bite his tongue to keep from laughing when he accuses you of getting turned on and you actually start apologizing.

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean it. You got my fingers all wet and m’hard now. It’s your responsibility to fix it”.

That’s all it would take to have you bouncing on his cock, head thrown back while he sucks on one nipple and pinches the other.

Yuuji wouldn’t mind right ?

#♛♚|the king speaks #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x black reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro x reader

[aeferfckr]

"my pussy's so lonely without you, please come home sooner~ 💕"

content warnings. nsfw. fem!bodied / afab!reader. nude pictures. sex toys (vibrator). vision usage. slight teasing. implied fingering. cunnulingus. petnames (doll, darling, dearest, baby, etc.)

masterlist.

laying on your back, anticipating your lover, you were naked, vulnerable, and soaking wet. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief for your aching core, your clit twitching in anticipation for attention.

after you sent a picture to your girlfriend, you followed her orders obediently. reaching for your phone on the nightstand, you look back to the picture you sent to her.

your back curved into a pleasant arch, the mirror in the background displaying your pretty little pussy, and a cheeky smile on your face to match the sultry caption: "my pussy's so lonely without you, please come home sooner~ 💕"

you could feel your stomach flutter as you heard the front door opening. quickly throwing your phone back to the side and resuming the same position, raising your legs slightly to show off. your girlfriend enters the room with something very special for her darling.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

LISA

lisa comes in with a wand in her hand, seering with the power of electro. she had a mischievous look on her face, she was definitely plotting something.

“my darling, are you ready for what i'm about to do~"

she traces the toy over your body: from your nipples, to your waist, back up to the valley between your breasts, and back down to your heat. she collects your slick with the vibrator as you shiver from its cool touch.

"hmm?~ you're so wet. is it the electro-power vibrator i have right here, or was it your excitement after sending me that slutty picture~"

you while as she activates the toy, shivers shooting up yourt spine as the gentle vibrations and occassional electro buzzes stimalte your clit. one of lisa's hands control thg toy as she drags it up and down your sex, while the other holds your face in place as she places open mouthed kisses all over your face.

you could tell from the way she sucked on your neck that she wouldn't let you finish for now...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

NINGGUANG

ningguang comes in with a irked look. her halk like eyes scanning your entire body, all while playing with the rings that adorned her long, slender, fingers. you could tell what happened during the day purely because of her aura, she had a bad day. which means that she’s looking for a stress reliever

“oh dearest, you have no idea how much i need you right now”

ningguang sits beside you on the bed, her ring adorned fingers running over your face, to your chest, to your stomach. she plays with your body before she properly pleases you. she always loved to take her time, much to your dismay at the moment.

the tianquen lays at her side, her fingers roaming down your front as she sinks into the mattress. she kisses your forehead as her fingers reached at your hole, swipping the slick youve produced just to bring it toyour mouth. she didn’t have to give a command because as soon as you saw her glistening fingers, your mouth slack open.

“good girl, you’re doing so good for mommy”

her now wet fingers slip back down your body as they prod at your core, slowly slipping in between your folds.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

DEHYA

dehya comes in with her hands on her mouth, wiping away the drool she's accumulated from fantasing about you, thinking about your cunt. the position you were in just made it so much worse, your dribbling pussy on full display as you raised your knees to your chest.

"oh doll, look at you" she dotes, creeping up the bed below you, "looking so so pretty for me"

you open your legs in response to her words as she gently holds your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh.

"imma make you feel real good, mkay?"

she starts with a short kiss to your thighs, sucking and biting at the skin as soon to be maroon spots bloom. then she goes to your clit, the bundle of nerves continuously twitching as she blows on it.

you feel her mouth envelop your clit and shiver, her tongue swirling and sucking at it as you thrash in the bed.

"so sensitive," she lets go for a moment, quickly replacing her mouth with her fingers "i haven't even gotten to the good part yet.”

© aeferfckr

#₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ WORKS #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #lisa minci #lisa x reader #lisa smut #ninggaung #ningguang x reader #ningguang smut #dehya #dehya x reader #dehya smut

[pa1n-0f-l0ve]

୨ৎ: drunk 2010!Bill, use of y/n, fem first person POV

—

Bill had Informed me he was hanging out with the guys and having a few drinks, this was normal and I was used to it. Especially when Bill came home wasted and all giggly I knew the common routine. But this time he was taking a lot longer than usual, it was past 12:00 am already and I was getting more and more anxious as time went on.

Soon, bills loud boots could be heard from the doorway, his tall figure shuffling in rather angry and quick. His cheeks had been a pink tint, he looked disheveled and messy. His usually perfect black eye makeup was now smudged around his face. There was an aura of anger radiating off of him, I knew something was up.

Frowning slightly I ask, “Bill what’s wrong, are you okay?”

In his drunken state he grunts distastefully before spatting out, “I’m not in the fucking mood right now.” He sneers, his aggressive tone echoing in the living room.

My frown grew, Bill was never like this. He was always a sweetheart no matter what, so what had changed? His tall figure approaches me, slender hands at each side of my face as he smashes his lips into mine. his sudden eagerness caught me off guard.

Shoving two manicured fingers into my mouth, his brown eyes look into mine. Bill’s face holds a determined stare as-well as his voice. “Don’t you dare a say a word or you will not like the outcome..” he warns, this new aggressive side of him showing as his words slur slightly.

I nod my head in obedience as he begins to strip down to his bare cock. The veiny length swollen and covered in Precum as it stands on full display. Bill doesn’t wait a second before shoving his leaking member In-between my plump lips. The tip of his cock meeting the back of my throat almost immediately, Bill took my hair into his right hold moving my head for me.

His tight grip on my hair as he shoved his cock into my mouth brought tears to my eyes, yet I felt dirty for liking the feeling. It felt different than anything we had ever done before but it felt so good and dirty at the same time. Soft gags left my throat as his dick pushed farther and farther in, drool seeping from the corners of my mouth as Bill whimpered and grunted.

Bill threw his head back as he whined in pleasure. His hands gripping at my hair tighter as he grunted out, “you’re such a hungry cock whore, You look so slutty..”

I moaned around his member in response, the degrading mixed with the pleasure of his grip on my hair made me crumble beneath him. The vibrations from my mouth immediately meeting his cock, his moans got louder as he drew closer to finishing. My hands made their way to his balls, gently teasing and fondling them between my fingers.

His long nails dug into my scalp, as if he needed something to ground him as he drew closer and closer. His pace picking up more and more as my suction on his cock tightened. Soon, his cum was shot down my throat. He released my hair and pulled out of my mouth, leaving me panting and wiping at the tears in my eyes and drool around my mouth.

Bill’s face changed from pleasure-filled to a concerned one quickly. He looked at my now messy appearance, gently stroking my face. “Did I do too much? I’m sorry-“ he said quickly, frantic to hear his response back from me.

My cheeks flush slightly as I look up at him and into his eyes. “I- it caught me off guard at first, but I really enjoyed it..” I flush, my gaze averting to the ground shyly. “M- maybe you should get some rest. You’re going to be hungover tomorrow..” I whisper, my shy and vulnerable side showing.

Bill lets out a little giggle at my awkwardness, my shy side showing even though his cock was plunged down my throat earlier. Bill lazily pulls me toward him by my waist, laying us on the couch and throwing the decorative blanket over us.

As Bill’s hands rubbed gentle circles on my back, The last thing I hear before drifting off to sleep is Bill’s voice, barely above a whisper say, “good night princess..” as his hands rubbed gentle circles on my back.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #oneshot #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel oneshot #fanfic #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokiohoteloneshot #tokio hotel tom kaulitz #tokio hotel bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tokiohotel #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz smut #gustav schafer x reader #gustavshäfer #georg listing smut #kaulitz twins

[444rockstargf]

kinktober day 4.

10.07 - KNIFE PLAY | EURONYMOUS!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @bub0nic-plague @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish

previous: 10.05 - DEGRADTION!

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 1.0k

contents: cutting, name carving, fingering, pussy slapping, blood, squirting

as one would think, halloween was the only holiday that euronymous even considered paying any mind to. he didn’t like trick or treating, decorating, or dressing up, but ever since you started dating, he’d developed a strong liking for seeing whatever slutty costume you had prepared.

usually you’d sneak him a little look of what you were planning to wear for him, but this year you waited until the very last minute to show him what you’d been cooking up. he knocked on your bedroom door. “you ok in there? you’re awfully quiet…” his timing was perfect, you were just getting done the finishing touches.

“almost done, euro!” you called out, looking at yourself in the mirror one last time before opening the door, standing there on full display for him. you had put on a little black leather skirt, a lacy black cami top, torn fishnet stockings and a pair of his black boots. an ensemble that you’d knew he’d been dreaming about seeing you in for the longest time.

his jaw physically dropped as his eyes lustfully travelled down your body. he chuckled softly, “now that’s what i like to see, baby…” he picked you up, making you wrap your smooth legs around his waist as he carried you onto the bed. you gasped as he took charge so quickly, but this was exactly the outcome you had been expecting and working towards.

you pushed you onto the bed, setting himself on top of you as his hand travelled to your hips and downwards. it stopped at your thigh, his nails easily tearing the ruined fishnets even more. had had grown painfully hard in the past minute, feeling his mind fill with all the things that he wanted to do to you tonight.

he sunk down a little, setting himself in between your legs and allowing your soft thighs to cradle him gently. he reached into his pocket, pulling out an item that you’d seen many times before. he flicked open his skull-handled switch blade, the end glistening menacingly in the dim glow of the room.

he forced you thighs apart, looking up at you before making any sudden moves. “is this ok..?” he pressed the end of the blade into your skin, causing you to gasp. you nodded without a second thought which was the only signal he needed to get started. he tugged the skirt just enough to get perfect access to your inner thighs.

“i think you’d look really pretty with my name printed right here…” he traced out a circle with the tip. your breath hitched as euronymous dragged the sharp, steel blade across the soft skin of your inner thigh. his warm breath sent shivers down your spine as it fueled the warm feeling growing inside your core.

he had you on the bed, legs spread as he sat between them and wrote out his name on your inner thigh using his most prized blade. he cuts out every letter with razor-sharp precision, the sound of your strained whimpers encouraging him to push it a little further each time. 

every time the blade reconnected with your skin, you winced and tugged on his long black hair, only to his delight. “c’mon angel, you can take it.” your legs were nearly crushing his head, but he forced them back open and gave you a slap on the thigh. there was something about the thrill of getting treated like this that sent vibrations through your core.

you squirmed as his calloused fingers dug into your bare thighs, your eyes glistening with tears as he traced out random little shapes all over you. he looked like he was having the time of his life, holding the knife in his veiny hands as he designed your body. “you look so pretty like this, angel. all bruised up just for me…”

your legs began to shake with desire as your bud throbbed against the thin fabric of your panties. euronymous ran the side of the knife down your clothed slit, making you gasp. “you’re fuckin’ dripping, doll… and i haven't even touched you yet” he slapped your wet cunt, looking at the way his fingers just barely glistened from your wetness.

he slipped your panties to the side, revealing your swollen, wet clit that was just begging for some attention. he looked at you, his icy blue eyes burning holes into your soul. he slowly dragged the flat side of the blade down your slit, picking up strings of your slick. 

you couldn't explain why, but you enjoyed the slight pain and discomfort that came with the fear of your fragile skin being torn up. he slapped the blade against you a few times, making you whine. “e-euro please..!” you pleaded, but he continued teasing you, refusing to give you the relief that you craved so badly.

he spat on your pussy, squeezing your ass just enough to make your pussy lips spread. he stick in a finger, and then one more inside of your pulsating hole, his finger instantly being covered in your cum. just as you were about to make a sound, he roughly pumped his fingers into you, hard enough to make your entire body shake.

you screamed out, gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles went numb. your bloody thighs spread even further apart as he pushed his fingers against your bladder, making small squirts of cum erupt from your core. you moaned out his name, begging him to slow down but wishing for the opposite.

he curled his finger inside of you, causing a geyser to flow out of you. he pulled his fingers out as your fountain rained all over his face, drenching him completely in your fluids. he used his thumb to massage your aching clit as you got every last drop out of you, completely ruining the bedsheets that you found yourself changing more and more frequently.

he chuckled softly, wiping off the blade on his shirt. “so perfect for me.” he kissed the wounds on your thigh, smearing the blood just a little. you panted as you came down from your high, keeping a hand in his hair for support. he pulled you into a soft, demanding kiss, running his hand down your body.

you couldn't admit it, but you thought the wound looked quite nice on you.

author's note: this whole rory situation is actually insane! but kinktober isnt cancelled and i will still be posting as usual :)) also, that pic of him face painting his new gf actually has me going insane!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #euronymous #lords of chaos #smut #october #kinktober #halloween #autumn #444rockstargf #knifeplay #knife kink #knife k!nk

[siempre-bucky]

If possible, could we please do "B feeling shy in swimwear and A hyping them up" for our man Bob Floyd? But can Bob be "B" because we know he would be hesitant to take his shirt off, as seen with the beach scene and he just deserves a partner/reader who's like "nah you're hot as hell, take it off"

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You know Bob's reserved, his favorite yellow shirt was his comfort source at the beach, but you just want to see his beautiful body underneath it. So naturally, you pin him to the side of the Jeep and tell him he's hot.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this! I loved being able to do both sides of this prompt! Also, Bob has one of those slutty little waists people have been talking about and I will not be taking any criticism at this time.

It was unrealistically less crowded at the beach on a Saturday afternoon. “Can’t believe we get to park in the front row,” you marveled as Bob pulled into the parking lot, the palm trees lining the street blowing gently in the breeze. 

“Breathe it in, baby, this will never be happening again,” Bob joked from the diver's seat, using his free hand to slide his aviators up the bridge of his nose. You tapped his thigh as he put it in park, your eyes scanning for the rest of the squadron. Most of them were already warming up near the water, two footballs being thrown across the sand. 

The two of you hopped out and opened the back doors to grab your things. You took off your Navy shirt and readjusted your sports bra and high-waisted shorts, humming in delight as the warm sun hit your skin. Your eyes looked over at your husband and how he triple-checked the items in your bag and even quadruple checking for the sunscreen. “Ready?” he asked, his thin lips forming a small smile. 

You weren’t ready until Bob took off his comfort beach t-shirt. You ignored his question and shut the door before walking over to him and placing your hand on the side of the door. He watched as you eyed him up and down, “Are you?” you asked in return. 

He nodded simply, “Yeah?” 

You shook your head, “You still have your shirt on, Bobby,” you pouted, leaning against the door. 

“I know,” he said with a nervous chuckle, “I’ll get less burnt that way.” 

You knew that you married the reserved one, the one who only let his true feelings show when he was alone with you. He’d rarely shown his body to anyone else, hell, he even swims with his shirt on. You understood his character and knew very well he looked good in that shirt. You rarely ever asked him to step outside his comfort zone, but there was just something about today that really made you want to see his body. Always a shame he kept it so hidden, he looked like a God in your eyes. Robert Floyd was breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Bobby,” you said his name with a slight rasp in your voice and through his transitioning lenses, he could see how your pupils were getting wider with lust. 

“Darlin’,” he countered, taking a step back, and his back collided with the cloth seat. You sauntered forward and put your hands on the sides of his waist, gently squeezing to feel the muscles he had there. 

Your face was close enough to count the little freckles that were kissed onto his face, beautiful blue eyes staring back at yours. “Why won't you take it off?” you asked, a question you never really asked directly. Bob took his hands and placed them underneath your forearms, his fingertips stroking your skin. 

Bob turned to look at the guys on the beach through the space between the open door and the body of the Jeep, Hangman and Coyote were doing pushups in the sand, their glistening biceps on full display. “I don’t- I don't look like them. I’m not ashamed of how I look but I know I’m not up to standard,” he told you, his eyes avoiding your glare until you used your thumb and pointer finger to grab his chin and made him look at you. 

“To whose standard, Bob?” you questioned, slotting yourself between his legs. 

He cocked his head, “I don-” 

“I married you, Bob. You are the most handsome man I have ever seen… and can I tell you something?” You dragged your fingers down his neck, ghosting over his Adam's apple and all the way down his torso. Your lips hovered his slightly parted ones, you could even see the rosy blush on his cheeks. 

“W-what?” he croaked. 

“You’re hot, Lieutenant,” you mumbled with a desperate whine. Your hands slid underneath his shirt and let your nails rake down his goosebump-ridden skin. “You are so fucking hot,” you growled before crashing your lips into his. 

Bob’s eyes opened wide in surprise but they slowly closed while he put his hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer. “Is that how you really feel, baby?” he panted as he pulled you away. You bit your bottom lip and nodded. He moved his arms and quickly took off his shirt before the rational side of his brain could take over, tossing it onto the seat. 

You took the opportunity and looked at his toned torso: his biceps were well defined and he had that beautiful line down the valley of his defined pecs. “You’re not flexing are you?” you purred. Bob grinned and shook his head. 

“I can if you want me to,” he chuckled. 

You tsked and shook your head, “If you did we might as well go back to bed.” He laughed as you wiggled your eyebrows, intertwining your fingers and grabbing his backpack with his free hand. 

Once you got to the edge of the sand Bob stopped and gently squeezed your hand to get your attention. “Will you say what you told me again?” he asked as he motioned to his chest. 

You giggled and put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him lovingly. “You’re hot as fuck, Lieutenant Floyd.” 

He smiled brightly and kissed your forehead, “Thank you, baby.”

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x fem!reader #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd blurb #top gun #top gun maverick #siempre buckys blurb night #bob floyd imagine

[mychlapci]

Orion pax stripper / slut era?

We have Ratchet’s slut era, and everybody loves the dear ol party ambulance, i’d suck his spike and say sorry if he begged for more.

But back to my baby orion pax. In multiple universes optimus has some slutty ass waist, him and Ratchet have known eachother for a lonng time. Tfp and bayverse have basically been competing on the daily for who’s prime has a sluttier waist, who would look better full of bitties, who’s matrix is more annoying. Blah blah blah.

The one thing they have in common is that the REASON of the sluttiest waist known to Cybertronian kind is that Orion Pax was a stripper.

Megatronus and his buddies walking into a club vaguely disguised as a bar in downtown kaon. Taken offguard to see the sweet, innocent and helpful Orion pax not hesitating to have his gorgeous, but quite small titties on display to an entire club of drunks, walking through crowds and he looks fabulous, each titty pierced through with tiny golden piercings in an X position, thin golden chains looping each corner, only his valve out and pierced with shiny, multicoloured piercings that glimmer separately when the club’s lighting changes colour or brightness, it puts some colouration to the greyish-blue mesh, a thick loop piercing through his node, dribbles of Lubricant rolling in thick beads down his thighs, it doesnt deter him because he knows he looks fabulous

He’s slipping round drunk mech and femme alike, ignoring groping hands as he moved with such fluidity. His armour was much slimmer then any of the gladiators remembered, despite how he’d saw them a little less then a week ago, biolights running up his stomach from his hips, ending at where his titties meet his chest, Absolutely covered head to toe in glitter, maybe some shanix tucked between the armour he does have on, showing how well his curves suit this job.

Megatronus and (probably) soundwave are even more surprised when it turns out he works here on weekends, completely sober and willing, One part is because he absolutely loves showing his frame off, the second part is so he can keep an eye on the biggest whore on Cybertron *cough cough* Ratchet *cough cough* so he doesn’t get himself kidnapped and drugged in an alley way, also it pays well and times are hard!

The matrix just seems to make everything worse but better at the same time, so its a win/win for Optimus.

oh my god yes. slut era Orion Pax should be talked about more. And slut era TFP Orion? So brave. But hey, I mean, if he's friends with the ol' party ambulance then they've gotta have something in common, and frequenting trashy clubs can absolutely be one of them!

Megatron and his gladiator buddies walk into a club and get hit with a full-face of Orion Pax titties. He's surprised to see them but ultimately, Orion's a professional. He gracefully sits up on their table, pretty hips propped up, and they can see the intricate, almost hypnotic patterns painted onto his soft, perky tits in great detail. Shy, polite Orion from the archives shifts a little on top of the table and they can see that his valve panel is open, the pretty piercings tempting Megatronus to just touch 'em and pull. Maybe then he'd get to see Orion blush, if being bared in a dark bar full of strangers won't.

Clearly he's enjoying himself too, his node twitching and valve wet, grinning dumbly when people call him over to tuck shanix into the inseams of his hip plating, groping his frame with reckless abandon. Orion just playfully shakes their hands off of him, and keeps moving through the club to entertain the rest of the horny drunks. 

Oron giving Megatronus a dance, all in good fun, but there's a hint of a flush on his face-plate as he rocks his hips, all of Megatronus' friends watching, staring, wanting to have a piece, rough, battle-worn hands itching to touch that soft, polished plating and give it a squeeze. Orion wouldn't let them. Megatronus wouldn't let them.

#valveplug #yeag. Yeah #aand then orion has to end the dance because he realized ratchet's gone which means he's gotta go stop him from doing something he'll regre #boobdayforever

[missy-0-piink]

here me out,, shibusawa, fyodor, mykola, sigma +playboy bunny outfits

OML

Yes

(Also, Ivan’s crying in the corner for being left out D:)

The suits were a wonderful idea, you think, as you watch the men in one of the private rooms of sky casino

The latex bunny suits accentuated every aspect of their bodies, from their chest, to their abs, to their ass, and to their… crotch

The latex hugged their bodies so tightly it would be impossible not to see everything

You look around, your eyes first falling on shibusawa

Shibusawa is shameless, even more so than mykola, and it’s because he knows he looks good

The white bunny ears attached to his head match his hair perfectly, and they look so alluring on him

His lean thigh, chest and back muscles are out on display for everyone to see, and the latex suit hugs his slutty waist so perfectly

Though all muscle, the suit makes his ass look delectable, with the little bunny tail adding a cute effect

He’s standing proudly, elegant, as though he was in his normal clothing,

However, you noticed that he’d rarely walk, probably to do with how unsteady he was walking on the heels that you picked out with his suit

And he was completely ignoring the fact that everyone could see the imprint of his cock very clearly (not hard, just packing)

it made you feral

Your gaze then moves to mykola

Mykola, is the thiccest out of everyone

Like shibu, his bunny ears and tail are both white/silver, matching his hair

His beautifully thick thighs pop out of the suit, and his the garters you oh so graciously supplied him highlight how juicy they are, the meat of them straining against the leather

And his chest? Dear lord, his chest.

Man’s got some DD titties that are just barely covered by the suit, the plushness of them just begging to be squished and toyed with

The latex of the suit showcases his ass so perfectly, the fat of each cheek moving with him as he walks, the high heels changing the way he walked so it really made his cheeks bounce

But the cherry on top?

The plastic of the suit hugs his dick tightly, the imprint of his bulge (again, he’s not hard, just hung) very visible

It made your mouth water

Fyodor, however, is aloof and distant, choosing to sit down to avoid walking in the heels you bought (he thought he’d be able to do it, after all, in theory it was easy; but in practice? Not so much) and cross his legs, desperately trying to keep whatever dignity he had left, hiding his crotch and ass from view

How dare you win a bet against his group and force them to wear slutty bunny suits

Really, he doesn’t know why he’s even complying to the idea (it’s because he loves the way you stare at him, your eyes full of lust and praise as you take him in)

His ears and tail are black, matching his hair

And while being in the thinner side, his chest and shoulders are still broad, with his waist tapering in

And while his clothes were usually modest and hid that fact very well, there was no hiding from the suit, with it showing his figure beautifully, the prominence of his shoulder blades making him look almost delicate

And poor, poor sigma

He’s blushing furiously, standing with his back against the wall so his ass is hidden from everyone’s line of sight

his hands are held in front of his crotch, also hiding it from view

He had to, the tightness of the latex leaving nothing to the imagination (and he’d be lying if the pressure of the suit didn’t make him react in certain ways)

You had ordered a special pair of ears, one white and the other lilac, matching his dual toned hair

He was used to wearing heels, so the shoes didn’t bother him, and he, along with mykola, were experts at walking in them (even though it didn’t seem like it with the way the poor man’s legs were shaking)

“So,” you announce loudly, watching as everyone looks at you, “who wants to have an orgy!”

————

This is probably the most down bad post I’ve made, can you tell I have a thing for mykola being juicy? (Had dare bones remove his thiccness 😭)

I feel… slightly ashamed of myself 😞

LMAO

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungoustraydogs #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #sub fyodor #mykola hohol x reader #sub mykola #mykola hohol #shibusawa x reader #sub shibusawa #shibusawa tatsuhiko #sigma x reader #sub sigma #sigma bsd #sigma bungou stray dogs

[hypnoneghoul]

Seek and Destroy

WC: 1,4K

Relationship: Mountain/Dewdrop

Tags: Heats/ruts, transmasc Dew, p in v, knotting, cunnilingus, breeding kink

Mountain was trying to work in his greenhouse despite his rut hitting. He was killing it, the self control... until Dew appeared, in one hell of an outfit.

Notes: Uhm... Dew's outfit is fully based on my own, so... I have a picture... you can dm me if you're, hm... interested...

Read under the cut or on AO3.

It was fine, he could bear it for some more time. Just two or twelve plants to repot and he could go back inside and take care of it. Or ask someone for help, whatever.

Just a bit longer.

It didn’t help that his worktable was a perfect height for him to brush his, more than half hard, cock against every few seconds. Did his fucking rut had to hit just after they got back from tour? He was exhausted but had so much to do in his greenhouse after returning, not trusting the siblings with doing some tasks while he was away.

Just a bit longer and he’d find some nice, warm, tight and wet hole to fuck his load into, along with his huge knot.

Beads of sweat were gathering on his hairline, and most definitely not from the job he was doing. Mountain was fucking miserable.

He was basically shaking, his apron, and sweatpants under it, noticeably tented as he hissed and sneered around. Just a few left, he could keep his composure for just a bit longer.

Until-

“Mount? Hey, you here?” came Dewdrop’s voice from the front of the greenhouse. Mountain shot up, sniffing at the sweet scent slowly overwhelming his senses as the fire ghoul rounded the corner. He froze as his eyes landed on the other. Mountain was a mess and not only literally, with all the dirt on his arms, face and horns. 

He was a mess, cheeks flushed, pupils blown, breathing heavily like a pissed off bull. Dewdrop immediately knew what was going on, and was about to offer to help Mountain through it, but he didn’t exactly get a chance as the bigger pounced on him with a growl.

Well, he brought this on himself, kind of, with what he was wearing. Maybe he’d get approximately thirty seconds more if the earth ghoul’s rut wasn’t in the picture, but, still…

Dewdrop had a small crop top on, stolen from Aurora. He couldn’t help it, his little tits looked magnificent in it. He also wore cargo pants, low on his hips, his perfect, cute, happy trail on full display coming out from behind the top of his red Spider-Man boxers. They were super comfy, okay? The pants not only made his waist look borderline slutty, they also created the illusion of Dew having an actual cock, and Mountain, even knowing better, started daydreaming about choking on the imaginary length.

Dewdrop looked delicious, ready for devouring.

And so Mountain did.

The small ghoul didn’t even realise when he ended up with the pants shoved down to under his knees and bent over the dirtied worktable. Satan, his feet weren’t even close to touching the ground…

“Mountain, fucking- get me a pillow at least, you beast,” Dewdrop whined at his bony hips digging into the hard wood. The earth ghoul grumbled, chucked off both his sweatpants, shirt and Dew’s own pants and bundled them up together. The makeshift pillow was placed under his middle, but both ghouls knew it wouldn’t save him from limping for the next few days.

Mountain groped and squeezed everywhere, sneaking his big hands to grab Dewdrop’s tit or dig his fingers into his soft belly. The fire ghoul was just about to encourage the bigger to get to it, now that he was well on the way to getting his heat triggered, but Mountain, again, beat him to that.

He dropped to his knees and buried his face in Dew’s cunt, making him let out a high pitched moan at the sudden assault, “Oh, f- fuck…”

Mountain hummed against his pussy and feasted at him like a man starved, all but slurping away all the slick Dewdrop’s cunt was drooling. All he could do was whine and moan and let his head drop, horns clanking against the table.

The earth ghoul’s tongue was switching up from fucking him and licking at his stiff clit and it took a (not)surprisingly short amount of time for the fire ghoul to cry out and gush out a flood as he came on Mountain’s tongue.

“Oh my fucking god, M- Mountain-” Dewdrop breathed out, claws digging into the wood beneath him. All the answer he got was the other getting up and showing his legs further apart, cold air on his cunt making Dew shiver. He tried arching his back to stick his ass up but two huge hands planted on his hips prevented him from moving even an inch.

“Still,” Mountain growled, and Dew could do nothing but obey. Soon enough he was rewarded with a blunt and wet head of his cock teasing his entrance. It didn’t plunge inside, though, and the earth ghoul’s hands shivered where they were locked holding onto the smaller.

“Mount?” Dew asked, doing his best to turn his head to look at him. Something made Mountain hesitate, there was now worry painted on his face. “What happened?”

He grumbled something Dewdrop couldn’t pick up, but his hands turned him around, surprisingly gently. The earth ghoul bent down, arms caging the smaller in, and kissed Dew deeply, as if it was supposed to explain what made him pause.

“Mountain,” he whispered against Mountain's lips, “tell me.”

“I… got carried away, I- I don’t wanna… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Oh, love,” Dewdrop smiled, “you’re fine, you won’t hurt me. I won’t break. I might need some weed, though, later.”

Mountain chuckled himself now, “You’ve got it, Droplet.”

Dew purred when their lips met again, hips twitching up, “Now, fuck me hard. Fuck me full, make me catch.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Satan, fuck, Dew,” he felt Mountain’s cock twitching and drooling out more precum where it was trapped against his thigh, “y- you can’t- you can’t say shit like that.”

“I mean it,” he smirked, hooking his legs around the drummer’s middle, pulling him closer. Close enough that his dick was now slotted perfectly against Dewdrop’s dripping cunt.

There was no holding back, now, Mountain shoved his dick inside and, holding the fire ghoul’s tiny waist in a bruising grip, started a punishing pace. Fucking Dewdrop hard, just as he, oh, so politely, asked.

He was, again, reduced to being just a babbling, sloppy mess as he was being used. Dew had no idea how many more times he came on Mountain’s cock as he was still pounding into him with no abandon. The fire ghoul was somewhere near the orbit by the time Mountain’s dick even started to swell with a promise of a knot, and all but a ragdoll when he finally shoved it in. He came with a growl, fulfilling Dewdrop’s wish of being fucked full.

Mountain sagged, burying his face in the fire ghoul’s neck, having barely enough energy to keep his body from crushing the tiny creature under him.

“Oh dear Satan,” he grunted after a moment, as he realised Dewdrop was absolutely gone. Passed out.

He was extremely adorable, though.

Mountain peppered his cute face with kisses before gathering him up with one hand, grabbing a blanket thrown over a chair in a corner with the other. He wrapped them both up in it as best as he could with a blacked out Dewdrop hanging off of him and the knot holding them locked together for Satan knows how long. They could stay in the greenhouse to wait it out, but Mountain felt like he could at least get Dewdrop to a comfortable bed after that. 

The earth ghoul left the greenhouse and headed for the ghouls’ quarters in the Abbey. Just inside, as he smelled some delicious food, his stomach rumbled so loudly he physically cringed, afraid it would wake Dew up. Mountain was being slightly dramatic with that, though, as now not even a bomb landing square in the middle of their common room would wake the small ghoul up.

“There you both are,” he first heard, then saw Swiss rounding the corner. “Got worried when you missed dinner.”

“You made it?” Mountain asked, voice raw from all the noises he was letting out not so long ago.

“Yeah,” Swiss chuckled, “Dew was actually supposed to go ask what you wanted to eat and then come back to help me make it, but it looks like he was jumped, or something.”

“Oh Satan,” Mountain groaned, trying to hide his blush with his free hand.

“We all thought you ended up eating him for dinner, by now,” Swiss stepped closer to tuck a strand of sweat hair behind Dewdrop’s ear.

“Well… I kinda did.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #smut

[gabessquishytum]

Going back through your blog, I found the best idea that I'm surprised more people aren't talking about and that's the bad Sex Ed Dream, bc it just seems so much like him. No doubt he didn't get a good health education in that big old fancy private school of his before he left for Uni and got himself stuck in a dorm with whatever poor, disadvantaged youth the algorithm decided to throw him.

So Dream continues to stumble through life inexperienced and ill-equipped to handle his burgeoning sexuality. He doesn't know what to do with his slutty little pussy other than let his next boy of the week finger fuck him in the bathroom. Maybe he lets them eat him out if they've been good to him. But he's never been fucked. Not yet. Bc he wants a better man to be the father of his child bc that's how this works right? Couples fuck and a baby just appears? Condoms are only to prevent making a mess and don't even ask about dental dams bc Dream doesn't know.

But Hob does. Hob is around ten years older than Dream, one dissertation away from getting his Ph.D. and teaches a basic 101 course in history. He's not a total perv, but something is fetching about young college kids and their puppy-like exuberance. Dream just happens to be his next target after they meet at the help desk in the library. Dream just can't fucking write this ridiculous paper for his history class and is about to burst into tears when Hob helps him. This little dalliance leads him to ask if he would like a bit more money tutoring him on the side. Privately. In his dorm. Five times over the past week.

Now comes the downsides of fucking with college students. They're dumb. Like really really dumb. Dream is no exception. The weekend after their latest private tutoring session, in which Hob ate him out like a champ but on his insistance didn't fuck him, he finds Dream necking with another first year who also doesn't know what he's doing during a mixer. He's so angry he grabs the skinny little goth boy by the waist and drives them back to his place. Dream would have been scared if he wasn't so horny.

He forces Dream over the arm of the couch and rips his jeans down. Of course, the stupid slut doesn't wear underwear and his troublemaking cunt is on full display. They both find out Dream is a painslut as he begs Hob to forgive him by punishing him. How? By busting that cunt of course! Dream wails and fails, crying as sobbing as he's first spanked stupid and then fucked into with little to no prep. Just Hob's cock spearing into him, splitting him open over the coffee table.

Later on both of them agree this is by far the hottest thing that they've ever done.

But the morning directly after when Hob's semen is dry on his thighs and Dream can taste the previous night's regret on his tongue, they have a talk. Hob will have to take responsibility of course, and there won't be any family money to help them out. Mama Night is very clear about that. Any child of hers who gets pregnant before marriage is no child of hers.

Hob just has to laugh. After all, Dream can't get pregnant with him. An accident when he was a child featuring a flag pole and a too fast sled going down a snowy hill rendered him quite harmless. But he doesn't tell Dream that.

🎸

No sex-ed Dream my beloved 😭😭 I missed him so much 😭😭 and I love everything about this. Keep telling yourself you're not a perv, Hob. We don't believe you.

Of course it wouldn't be unreasonable for Dream to be anxious about a pregnancy scare after having unprotected sex. But Hob quickly notices that Dream is absolutely 100% convinced that he is pregnant. Like the stork already bought the baby. And little by little, Hob starts to pick away at Dream’s slightly odd understanding of how sex works.

Dream seems to think that every time a dick goes in a pussy, a baby is conceived. Doesn't matter if no one cums, and Dream doesn't seem to have any clue about ovulation or anything like that. Hob has to bite his own hand as he realises that Dream is just. Clueless. Innocent. So wonderfully, perfectly stupid.

The good thing is that with Dream under the impression that it's too late and he's already pregnant, he's much more open to having a cock inside him. So Hob finally gets to have Dream bouncing on his dick. He gets to bend his favourite undergrad over every surface in his dorm until the cum is dripping down Dream’s gorgeous thighs. Now he's had a little taste, Dream is definitely addicted and needy for Hob’s cock all the time. Sometimes Hob has to smack his pretty cunt in warning because he's being so greedy and impatient.

A few months pass by with the two of them fucking pretty much exclusively. Hob doesn't take an interest in any of the other cute barely-legals fluttering their eyelashes at him anymore. And Dream is only interested in his baby daddy <3

Hob honestly means to tell Dream that he's not actually pregnant. He does!! But. It's kind of hard when Dream is so convinced. Plus, it's to Hob’s advantage to have Dream believing he's knocked up. He'll say something soon, but... then he finds the pregnancy test?! And it's positive?!

Dream shrugs and he's like "Yes well I thought I should take one just to confirm." He doesn't understand why Hob is so gobsmacked. So Hob has to drag him through an entire detailed presentation on the reproductive system AND the whole story of how he was uhhh robbed of his crown jewels. Dream absolutely refuses to believe any of it for about 24 hours until he phones his sister and gets confirmation (poor Death).

Hob is starting to realise that maybe HE'S the stupid one because he's just spent weeks coming into Dream so many times that they've managed to achieve a miracle pregnancy. He can't get his head around it. Did he manage to knock Dream up? Is he being baby-trapped because Dream sees him as a decent provider for his child? Is the test a false positive? His groans of despair are muffled as he pulls Dream down and buries his mouth and nose in that gorgeous cunt. Dream maybe stupid (and possibly pregnant) but he's still got the prettiest pussy Hob has ever seen, and he's not done with it yet.

#🎸 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw pregnancy #cw age gap #trans dream

[alwritey-aphrodite]

might as well be drunk in love

Pairing: OTTR!Leto x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of doing coke, vaguely sexual but no smut

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: happy thanksgiving! I think it’s a jank holiday but I’m thankful for all y’all and especially @foxilayde who I love and who lets me come barging into the wonderful world she made (go read Off To The Races if you haven’t already)

Thanksgiving is the un-sexiest of all holidays. Halloween has so many opportunities for sex amid all the blood and gore, Christmas and New Years have their own brand of swanky sex appeal, and Valentine’s Day is a no brainer. There’s just something about turkeys and thick sweaters and conversations with family members you’d rather not be having that ruin any and all opportunities to be a little slutty.

It’s been your goal, your one true desire in life, to make Thanksgiving sexy, and you think you’ve finally accomplished that as you dangle your legs from the kitchen counter, skin warmed from the sun and a roll dangling from your fingers, taken from the plate Leto had just asked you not to touch. You shift a little, legs swinging as you try and unstick your bare skin from the countertop as your sweat begins to dry.

As much as you love fall and the weather that comes with it, there’s something magical about being able to wear a bikini and lay out in the sun hours before Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, you always plead with Leto to turn up the air conditioning so you can wear all your sweaters and cozy clothes, but you like having the option of enjoying the Southern California sun or bundling up and pretending like it’s chilly outside.

Leto comes back into view, and you quickly swallow the rest of your roll, as if he won’t be able to tell what you’ve done. Still, you give him your sweetest smile and are rewarded with a kiss before he continues back to the stove, putting in all the work of cooking your Thanksgiving dinner while you’d been lounging in the sun. He loves to cook, though, and as much as you’d love to help, you’re sure everything will go much smoother if you steer clear of the stove. You’ll happily taste test anything he needs, and you sneak another roll from the dish as you hop off the counter.

“I’m going to change,” you announce, squishing the bread in your hand as you press a kiss to the back of his bare shoulder, but Leto’s quick, turning around and capturing you with his strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“What’d I say?” He asks, opening your palm to reveal the squashed piece of bread. You just smile, knowing you can get away with anything if he’s in a good mood and you flash that smile at him, popping the bread into his mouth for good measure.

“We could never eat all that anyway,” you counter as his hands drift lower, to the ties on the sides of your bottoms, and your eyes drift over to the full pile of rolls, just for the two of you.

“Go get dressed, you’re distracting me,” he says as if he’s not caging you in with his arms, as if you can’t feel the cool metal of his rings on your bare skin, as if his arms aren’t all out on display because he claimed the kitchen was too hot for a sweater, as if he isn’t growing out his beard for the colder months.

Really, if anyone’s a distraction, it’s him. It’s always him, and that infallible confidence he radiates in any situation, and that stupid chain he wears every day as if it wasn’t swinging in your face mere hours ago. It’s worse when he’s shirtless, or when he’s in one of his many ribbed tanks like he is now, because then all you can do is sit and stare at him, your brain shut off completely until he finishes getting dressed.

Still, you head back towards your bedroom to get dressed, and not because Leto told you to but because he cranks the AC, just as you’d asked him to, and you’re starting to feel like a human popsicle with so much exposed skin. Ignoring your own side of the large walk-in closet, you turn immediately towards Leto’s collection of warm cashmere, searching through the sweaters for your very favorite and immediately lifting it to your nose, inhaling the scent of his cologne that seems to cling to everything he wears, even after it’s been washed.

Slipping off your bikini top and tugging the sweater over your head, you stand bare legged, facing your side of the closet now and trying to figure out what to wear. Despite the fall ambience inside of your house, it’s still rather warm outside, even as your skin has now lost the heat it gathered from the sun, and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to dress. Today’s supposed to be casual, but nothing ever is with Leto and his designer furniture and four course meals, and you know he’d be happy with you in sweats or nothing at all, but you want to look nice for him.

Settling on a skirt with enough give so you can enjoy your dinner without worrying about bloating, you slip on a nicer pair of panties underneath your skirt, loving the instant surge of confidence you get. Padding back downstairs, you head to the kitchen to be near Leto, and to have him feed you off the spoon as he cooks. You hop back onto your spot on the counter, bare legs swinging, and admire the sight of your man at work, with the sounds of the Macy’s Parade filtering in from the living room.

“We should watch a Christmas movie later,” you say, more to alert him of your presence than anything, because you know he gets so focused when he’s in the kitchen it’s like nothing else exists, and the last thing you want is for him to startle when he sees you and drop a knife on his foot so then you have a spend Thanksgiving in the emergency room.

“Hm,” he hums, acknowledging your presence and your statement and waiting for you to say more as he stirs one of the many pots on the stove.

“Because, you know, there're really no Thanksgiving movies, and really who would want to watch one anyway,” you give a little shudder for dramatic effect even though Leto’s back is turned to you.

“Whatever you want,” he says, turning towards you and settling his ring adorned hands on your bare knees, “as long as you stop trying to steal all the bread before dinner.” You grin, knowing he’d let you pick the movie no matter what you did, and you lean forward to kiss him, his sturdy grip moving to your waist to keep you from falling forward off the counter.

It was meant to be a little kiss, really, just a quick I love you before you let him get back to cooking, but then his hands squeeze at your waist and your own hands move to his hair, to the longer curls now that he’s decided to grow them out of winter, and you can’t help the way you pull and tug and bring him closer, needing him more than oxygen and so focused on him that you forget your desire not to plummet off the countertop. You know he’d never let you fall, not even as he groans and pulls away, even as you chase after him.

“I’m gonna burn the fucking house down,” he says, giving your waist one last squeeze before he turns back to the stove and you try not to lose your mind. The afternoon passes in the same fashion, with Leto cooking and bringing over something for you to taste every few minutes while you try your best to distract him, if only to delight in the way he pulls away with a look that says he’d rather do the opposite.

“Go set the table,” he tells you, using his thumb to wipe away a bit of pasta sauce that was stuck to the corner of your mouth and the only reason you didn’t stick your tongue out to lick it away was because he was already heading back to the stove, turning off burners and opening up the oven, giving you no choice but to hop down off the counter and head for the silverware.

“Are you gonna change?” You ask, pausing in your digging for your favorite napkins to let your eyes rove up and down his body, not caring at all if he stays exactly how he is. His pants hug him perfectly, as they always do, and the white tank he’s wearing shows off his perfectly sculpted arms in a way that makes you want to drool. Even the apron wrapped around his waist makes you a little crazy, even though you’d never admit it makes you a tad bit sad when he takes it off.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, he goes off to get dressed, and you’re not sure if he’s realized or not that you’re already wearing his favorite sweater. You finish setting the table, just two places side by side at the large dining table, and you set about lighting all the candles you’d set up earlier, turning the empty atmosphere into something more cozy, more intimate.

Hearing him come down the stairs, you put away the lighter and search for the wine, the bottle you’d bought specifically for today even though typically neither of you are wine drinkers, it had just seemed like the right thing to do. If this was two years ago, last year even, he would have taken a bump while getting dressed and come downstairs with blown pupils and fucked you against the table after dinner, or during dinner.

It wasn’t that you had a holier-than-thou attitude or anything like that, or even that you wouldn’t have accepted his offer for your own bump from the vial he always keeps tucked away safely in his pocket, just in case, but sometimes you just wanted to have a nice evening, wanted to pretend that you were one of the regular, boring women who lived on your street and pretend not to notice their husbands habit as long as their platinum cards still work.

Tonight, though, Leto comes downstairs and presses himself against you, caging you against the counter as you struggle with opening the wine.

“The table looks nice,” he whispers against the skin of your neck, placing a delicate kiss there as he takes the bottle from your hands and opens it with ease. He steps away, even though you wish he wouldn’t, and finds the nice wine glasses you barely ever use.

“You know, I was looking for that sweater,” he says with a teasing tilt to his voice as he pours, taking both glasses and leading you to the table.

“I didn’t know you wanted to wear it,” you grin, knowing you both know that’s a lie, but you had gotten dressed first and figured it was fair game. He’s offered to buy you your own a few weeks back, but it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t smell like him and feel like he’s always wrapped around you, so you steal it and he pretends that it irritates him even though you know deep down he loves how much you love him, enough to take his expensive sweaters just to lounge around in.

The TV’s still playing whatever follows the parade, neither of you caring enough to walk over to the living room to turn it off. It adds ambience, you suppose, creates the illusion that there are more than two people here, the voices from the screen filling the space now that the stove and oven have been turned off. You can barely hear it from the dining room, but you really don’t mind it, and it’s always practically impossible for you to focus on anything other than Leto anyway.

After setting down both of the wine glasses and urging you into your seat, Leto had turned right back into the kitchen to start bringing the food to the table. He did it by himself, two or three dishes at a time, while ignoring any and all offers of your help, simply pressing a kiss wherever he could reach any time he walked past. You sip at your wine, moving around plates and bowls to make more room on the large table, unable to do what you’re told even when it’s to relax.

By the time Leto finally sits down, bringing with him the bread you’ve been stealing all morning, most of your absurdly large dining room table is full of food, an unbelievable amount of dishes for two people. There are favorites from your childhood and his, Leto having spent the weeks leading up to today practicing in the kitchen because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make everything absolutely perfect. You know he could hire someone, hire a hundred someones just to make your dinner and not even bat an eye or make a dent in his money, but he likes being in the kitchen, likes being able to provide for you in every way he possibly can.

“Everything looks perfect,” you state the obvious when you see his sharp eyes scanning the table as if something’s missing, and you squeeze his hand where it rests next to yours. He smiles at you, flips his hand to grab hold of yours and bring it up for a kiss, gentle but setting fire to your whole body. It makes your heart twinge in a curious sort of way, like it can’t possibly process the tenderness of the action despite it not being all that out of the ordinary.

This isn’t your first Thanksgiving you’ve spent with Leto, but this is the first one with mountains of food and stolen sweaters and a hand on your knee that isn’t prodding for more. If this was a year ago, you would’ve been naked by now, fucked against the counter, eaten your dinner standing up before spending the foreseeable future in bed. There are fairly high odds that you’ll end up fucking on the couch instead of watching the first Christmas movie of the season or that the night’ll end with you fisting the expensive sheets you’d picked out last month, but even that feels oddly domestic, getting thoroughly fucked and used in the bed you make every morning.

“Hey,” Leto pulls you out of your self-reflection, his voice all soft and velvety in the way only you get to hear, in the way that still makes your heart melt a little, “eat your dinner.” You hadn’t even noticed that the hand that wasn’t still intertwined with yours had begun to scoop food onto his plate, that you were falling behind and sitting still, despite your many dramatic complaints of being starving for the past few hours.

Now, though, you pile your plate with all of your favorites, the serving dishes placed conveniently close to you, and the moan that escapes you with your first bite of dinner is downright pornograpic, and it’s a little shocking just how often Leto can pull those noises from you, in so many starkly different situations. He doesn’t comment though, just squeezes your hand and continues to eat, making no comments on the struggle of eating with his non-dominant hand.

The conversation veers towards light, frilly nonsense, all your decoration plans for the holidays and teasing remarks of the gifts you’d like, as if Leto wouldn’t buy you anything you wanted any day of the week. It’s pleasant, to pretend that nothing exists beyond the warm glow of your table, beyond the warmth of his hand in yours and the food in your belly, even though you know that come tomorrow, you’ll be left alone and in the dark about Leto’s dealings. Even though that’s the way you both prefer your lives to be, it’s nice to not need to worry about what he’s up to, even just for a day.

Once you’ve both finished eating, you start clearing the table before Leto can tell you to stop, because as much as you love being taken care of, you hate feeling useless, and you know that both of you cleaning together will make the chore go faster so the rest of your evening spent on the couch can begin. He tries to tell you to sit down, pushing a wine glass into your hand, but you simply place it on the counter and continue to put away all of the leftovers while wondering out loud just how long it’ll take the two of you to finish them.

Leto takes care of the dishes and doesn’t even bother to remove his rings, and it’s like he’s taunting you with the way they shimmer in the late afternoon sunlight. His hands are strong, thick fingers that should be rougher than they actually are, connected to hands that are duly capable of stroking your hair and breaking a man’s nose. You try not to drool as he dries them, as he picks up his own wine glass that looks positively flimsy in his grip. His other hand finds the small of your back, the heat of it apparent even through your sweater, and leads you out of the kitchen and into the luxuriously decorated living room.

It still looks a little modern and harsh and sharp, but the couch is beyond comfortable and you have big plans for the holiday season, plans that you know Leto will support no matter how many times he sighs dramatically when you cart your bags of expensive decor through the door. You’ll make it feel cozy and festive, and even though he’ll never say it, you can always tell that Leto appreciates your willingness to decorate for the seasons, to make his absurdly large house feel more like a home.

You can’t focus on that now, though, or anything really, because Leto has settled one of his ring adorned hands on your shoulder and is gently moving his fingers back and forth, drawing small circles and driving you insane. Even just the sight of him, of his hand or his beautiful nose or his strong jaw currently hidden beneath his beard, can send you crazy, make you unable to think of anything except for him and you’ve yet to determine if he does it on purpose or not.

Based on his full attention on the large TV screen, you’d say he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing to you. Sometimes it’s clear that he knows exactly the kind of power he holds over you, like when he catches you staring open-mouthed as he comes out of the closet in a new suit or when he joins you outside in one of his many linen shirts with the buttons undone. He knows exactly what he does to you, but now, you think he might just like having a hand on you, feeling you breathing beside him even as your heart ticks up and you try to focus back on the movie Leto had picked out just for you, the movie he complains about every single year but knows how much you love it.

Trying to get comfortable in your skirt that definitely isn’t built for relaxing evenings on the couch, you scooch even closer to him, pressing your side right up against his and feeling his chest fill and deflate with every breath. He’s handsy tonight, in an unusually but not at all uncomfortable unsexual way, like he just wants to know that you’re there. You can always tell when he’s teasing you, when he works you up until you’re spun so thin you can’t do anything but whine and whither around, but he’s not doing that now.

His hand falls from your shoulders and snakes its way under your sweater, resting on your warm stomach, the cool metal of his rings enough to make you shiver. You know he notices by the way he exhales through his nose with a little more force, a not-quite-chuckle that makes you a little crazy. Everything about him makes you a little crazy, sometimes in more ways than one. Now, though, he’s not trying to do that, he’s just resting his hand on your soft skin and feeling the way you inhale and exhale, feeling the little hitches in your breath when he uses his blunt nails to trail up and down near the waistband of your skirt. It’s all subconscious, though, so you try to focus back on the movie and not on all the little things Leto does that makes you want to forget everything else and straddle him.

Using all the restraint you have, you let yourself relax and enjoy the rest of the movie, shocked by the darkness that comes with the black screen as the film ends. Twisting around to glance out the large window, it looks as if it could be the middle of the night, even though you know it’s only late afternoon, with the yellow lights from the windows of other houses on the hill acting like stars or warning lights for airplanes flying too low. Even though you know it’s earlier than you’d typically eat dinner, you feel ready for bed, feel as though just closing your eyes would make you sleep for the next twelve hours.

You know that if you did fall asleep, Leto would carry you upstairs and change you into your disgustingly expensive pajamas and take off your makeup with as much care as he can muster before going out to have one last smoke on the balcony, making sure you’re fast asleep and comfortable before he quietly goes through his own extensive night routine. You don’t fall asleep though, instead stretching out your shoulders as Leto stands to bathe the room in a golden light, turning your house into just another one of a hundred from an overhead view.

“Ready for dessert?” You ask, even though you’re still a little full and choosing to ignore the glint in his eye because you’d been so well behaved the entire day, you won’t be folding now at the slightest hint from him. Maybe you fold a little, though, when you let him hoist you from the couch and carry you into the kitchen with your legs right around his waist, in a position that’s all too familiar for you. Still, he sets you gently on the countertop you’d perched yourself on earlier before turning towards the fridge and sifting through your mountain of leftovers to find the pie you’d been so excited about.

Even though your cooking skills are questionable, you’re able to follow instructions and following a recipe for a pumpkin pie was no different. It’s easier when you have every exact step laid out for you with specific measurements and baking times instead of the follow your heart bullshit that comes with cooking. You’d felt like a little housewife, wearing an apron and baking a pie, even though the apron was Leto’s and you struggled your way through a majority of the baking process, you’re still proud of the way it turned out.

Forgoing plates and knives, Leto sets the pie on the counter next to you and hands you a fork, and you waste no time before scooping up a bite of filling. This, mutilating a pumpkin pie seated on the counter with one of Leto’s warm hands on your knee, feels more intimate than the candlelit dinner you’d shared earlier. It’s easier, being with him like this when there are no expectations, no little voice in your head telling you how you should be standing or talking or laughing.

It feels normal in a way you’re not entirely used to, in a way that used to scare you, but now you embrace it wholeheartedly. You don’t worry about anything as you lean yourself forward to kiss him, except for his reaction when he realizes you’ve swiped whipped cream along that nose you love so much.

#duke leto atreides #duke leto x reader #duke leto x you #ottr leto #dune movie #dune fanfiction #dune 2021

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Hear me out I am very high from a edible rn but HEAR ME OUT DUDE

so we all know Chris Evans and his absolute slutty build like cmon he literally was nicknamed the human dorito bc slutty waist

Anyways thinking about that one promo pic of Chris in the cap suit with his back turned to the camera and his ass is just perfect ANYWAYS FR THIS TIME

Thinking about stucky but not like dating but Bucky being obsessed with Steve’s absolutely slutty figure and once the two get close to being fully retired Steve gets bigger as he slowly grows accustomed to taking it easy for once. but not exactly just fatter everything is the same but somehow softer and bigger. His thighs spread out more when he sits his chest is massive not quite defined pecs but far from being flabby moobs they’re just huge, his abs are long gone but he doesn’t have a round gut (Atleast when he’s empty) and the best part that makes bucky go crazy is his love handles , ass, and thighs, all perfectly packed together in one big package that makes Bucky lose his shit. Steves ass has nearly doubled but it’s still a perfect bubble butt, and his thighs have filled out enough to close any gap that might’ve occurred even when he has a wide stance. (Think those really chunky frat boys that manspread and their thighs are still somehow touching) BUT Steve’s suit and most of his wardrobe hasn’t changed so his clothes just accentuate his assets. His thighs and ass taking up most of the room in his pants and they perfectly leave Steve’s bulge completely on display almost like a gift from god to Bucky. Anyways I’m sure if you did add to this you’d be able to express that better than I could! And if you don’t THATS ALSO COOL (pls by no means feel like you have to answer this right away )

THIS HAS VIBES 🤤🤤

You know what kind of vibes? Exhibitionist Captain America vibes from this post by iwritetheweirdstuff

And I assume you're talking about this photo, which I nabbed from forchrisevans

Okay, shit...

Now you just have me thinking about chunky but still super fucking muscular Steve. I’m going off the rails over here, biting and clawing at my enclosure. I don’t think this rambling is actually totally related to your original idea, so just know I love your original idea!

But this reaoly gets me because Steve would be such a fucking classic MAN. Yanno? Big and heavy and robust. He looks like he could take Bucky in his big, beefy arms and rip him apart. He’s healthy. Hefty. Rippling muscles hidden under this layer of pudge.

Yum.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead. Warning for weight gain, muscle chub talk, tight clothes, Bucky being a little creepy by drooling over Steve before they're an item, etc.

Before gaining weight and when he was wearing the title of Captain American so tightly that it was suffocating him to the point that he was unforgiving of himself, never good enough as Steve Rogers, Steve was like a Thoroughbred. A racehorse, smooth and lean, with a single objective. Win. But now that he’s looser with the title and deciding what he wants for himself, more often calling himself a nomad than going by Cap… now he’s gruff, ignoring the rules (ignoring them even more than he did before, which is saying something for a troublemaker like him), and he’s like a Clydesdale. He’s a tank.

A fucking beast.

When he’s running, you get out of the fucking way because of all the mass behind that force. If you let him collide with you at full speed, full force… it ain’t pretty. His feet pound the ground. Jesus wept. These days his chest, belly, and ass shake when he runs, even when his big, big body is wrapped tightly in all that deep, navy-blue Kevlar. The sight just destroys Bucky.

Bucky can’t fucking fight next to him anymore when they’re called in for Avenging every now and again, half-retired as they are. It was bad enough when Steve was that Thoroughbred, rippling lean muscle and a shiny, bright blond head of short hair. Always distracting Bucky. But now it’s worse because Steve is a Clydesdale with this heft to him and his dirty blond hair and dark, thick beard. He’s even letting his body hair grow in, and it’s all Bucky can do to not faint, landing face-first into the deepening cleavage between his robust pecs, inhaling the musk of him. Every time Steve grunts with the effort of punching or kicking or tearing some offending villain to pieces, Bucky swears he feels faint. He has this completely involuntary feral reaction to the burly man he’s become. Hunky. Stocky. Ripped. Hefty. Whatever fucking word there is for the built he’s got going… it makes Bucky’s mouth water.

Of course, Steve’s still only two inches taller - 6’2” to Bucky’s 6’0” - but suddenly he feels a whole foot taller, and he feels twice as wide as Bucky. Those broad shoulders are only made wider, reinforced by the extra protein he’s eating, thickening his muscles and adding soft pudge; his pecs are still high and tight but even more… they’re swollen almost, added to by an irresistible layer of fat that Bucky has the primal urge to bite; the abs he had once upon a time, defined enough to use as a washboard have softened, especially after a hearty meal like a good lumberjack’s breakfast or a caveman’s dinner, just, these big plates with plenty of meat piled onto them, which turn his stomach into this drool-worthy curve, a little belly that sticks around until he somehow manages to digest it all; that fucking ass made even rounder and more shapely to the point that his pants all strain across it, his sweats especially, nearly splitting down the middle whenever he gets out of his comfy recliner; his thighs, oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they’re ripe, rubbing together and trying to bust outta his jeans, his sweats, even his Captain America uniform.

Bucky has it bad.

If he weren’t so focused on trying to not let his animal out, growling and just fucking tackling Steve to the floor, he would feel terrible for how much he’s sexualizing his best pal. It seems no matter what he’s doing, Bucky’s caveman brain is thinking about how to best peel him out of his too-small clothes. Too tight when he was lean with rippling muscles, barely any body fat on him, and especially too fucking tight now when he has this delicious extra give to him. He looks like a size two sausage stuffed into a size one casing. Bucky curses his wardrobe at the same time that he would fall to his knees and thank it with his hands pressed together, praying to it. He wants to be there for the day that Steve busts out of it after a heavy, hearty, indulgent dinner.

‘Cause, listen, Bucky’s spank bank is just overflowing these days:

When the most recent battle is done and Steve bends over to pick up a fucking massive slab of concrete, he unintentionally gives Bucky a front-row seat to his thick ass. His curves barely fit in his uniform these days. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t know how he puts that godforsaken, tight-as-hell uniform on by himself anyway. And he doesn’t want to think about it. Not in public! The only way he can imagine it happening is with Steve naked save for a jock strap, alone in his room. First, he steps into the legs, then he works it up his calves, getting it to his thighs where it gets stuck. He’s outgrowing it. It’s a tight fit, but he still fits for now. At least, he fits when he shimmies and wiggles into it. Better than a damn stripper. Moving his body in this unintentionally, totally sexy way. Wiggling. Pulling. Squirming. Even jumping while he’s at it, pulling hard at the thick Kevlar, his biceps bulging - they’re bigger than Bucky’s fucking head now - grunting as he holds his breath, sucking in. Sucking in! His chest expanding without his pudgy, starter belly going anywhere, stubborn and jiggly.

Whenever he bends over, he gives Bucky a show, really. It doesn’t matter where they are...

When he’s bent over looking at the leaky pipe under their kitchen sink, his waist filling more of the open cabinet than it once would have. While he’s down there, his shirt rolls up over his soft little hips, the new weight just beginning to accumulate there. The start of what could be real love handles someday.

When he’s looking through the bottom drawer of the fridge, doing a head count before they head out for groceries. He’s not dressed yet, though, so he doesn’t have a belt to hold his pants up and his sweats slide down the shelf of his ass, displaying just enough of his asscrack for Bucky to feel starved, meaning he’s extra grumpy at having to wander around an overcrowded store. Shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Hungry and horny.

When he’s drawing on the couch and he accidentally lets a pencil fall onto the floor, so he has to get up, but, oops, it looks like it must’ve rolled under the couch so he gets even lower. Onto his knees and forearms. Searching blindly for the pencil… blind to Bucky’s eyes, perving out on how his thighs touch from the back now, his legs getting just as thick as his ass is. And it’s thick.

When he’s doing stretches on their balcony in the morning, breathing in the fresh air, doing some cat-cows, and inadvertently displaying his new belly that’s still rumbling through last night’s dessert. A classic, couple 'a slices of pie and ice cream. Too much pie and ice cream judging by how distended his belly looks.

When they’re getting some of their energy out now that they’re not constantly going out and avenging, half-retired, by sparing with each other in the gym. Sparing, kind of wrestling, too. They’re not trying to be tactical about it, they’re just having fun, being big kids, reminiscent of the days when they’d pull the mattress off the bed and start to play fighting on the floor. But they aren’t kids and Steve isn’t so much smaller than him, so Bucky doesn’t have to focus on finding that perfect balance of holding back just enough where it doesn’t seem like he is but he’s also not at risk of pushing Steve’s frail body too far. Now they can really whale on each other. Which is fun… until it isn’t. Because Bucky is laughing and sweating and actually starting to feel tired, and then he’s pinned, and he’s choking back a moan, sweating harder. Steve is on top of him. Steve is crushing him. Steve’s big, hot chest is against his back - Bucky can feel how he’s sweating through his skintight white t-shirt, his thick pecs squishing against his shoulder blades. Steve’s delightful, chubby, little belly is slotted perfectly into the small of his back. While fighting, Bucky’s shirt has risen up, and apparently, Steve’s has done the same, despite how firmly it had been clinging to his soft middle the last time he dared to sneak a peak because now their sweaty, hot skin is pressed together. Steve’s hairy tummy is tickling him, making Bucky want to squirm. He wants to moan. It’s a good fucking thing he’s face-down with Steve on top of him. He wants more than just to squirm and moan, he wants to hump the floor like an animal because with Steve’s tits pressed to his back and his belly squished to his back, it aligns his crotch right up against his ass. Bucky can feel Steve’s dick on his ass through the thin layers of their sweatpants and underwear. He can feel how heavy it is. And he’s thinking about how Steve’s dick probably blushes a dusky pink and gets wet at the time and how it probably curves a little and gets so thick when he’s hard and… this is where Bucky dies because Steve readjusts himself, making it worse by spreading his killer thighs to either side of Bucky’s legs, practically grinding into him, trapping him between his watermelon-crushing thighs. “Had enough?” Steve teases him with a shit-eating grin. God. Only if the fucker knew.

When Natasha adopts a new, abandoned kitten that she’s named Liho and they go over to play with him at Tasha’s apartment and Steve decides to grin like he does, always breath-taking, his smile the sweetest, most affectionate thing as he lifts Liho up above his head like Simba in the Lion King (yes, they’ve caught up on that modern pop culture reference, thank you very much). Bucky nearly goes cross-eyed, staring at his pecs. His t-shirt clings to his round, heavy tits. With his arms up, it forces his pecs to move up, too. High and plump. Bucky can see every detail of them, he can see every breath he takes, making them heave, and he’s almost able to pick out the tiniest creaking groan of the seams of his shirt screaming under all that pressure. Tasha doesn’t bat an eye, at the treatment Steve is giving her new companion, she just squeezes past Steve in her kitchen (is the apartment that small, or is Steve that big?), flicking one of his hard nipples. The points of them are obvious through the straining, thin fabric. She refills her mug with coffee but she doesn’t take a sip until she reminds Steve that if he wants to see how much more comfortable running can be, he only has to say the word and she’ll show him the magic of sports bras. Everyone can see that he needs it, and he might as well embrace it. They can even get matching ones if he wants. Her smile is razor-sharp, teasing. Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue, imagining the heavy mounds of his tits hoised up higher, giving him even more cleavage than he normally sports. Guh. Bucky wouldn’t survive.

When later during that same day, Steve decides he’s going to lie down on Natasha’s couch as they watch a movie - some Russian production that Tasha’s been telling Bucky about forever (he’s hardly paying attention and it’s Steve’s fault that he’s going to have to watch this again, on his own, during one of his sleepless nights when he can pay attention to it) - and Liho decides that Steve’s his favorite. So, he wanders back over to curl up on his soft chest and belly and starts fucking kneading his plush chest and belly like it’s the comfiest, fluffiest pillow ever. It probably fucking is! And Bucky can’t blame the kitten for purring so loudly - despite Steve’s and Tasha’s amusement at it - Bucky would be no better. He spends the rest of the evening biting the inside of his cheek and trying to banish all the mental images of his own hands kneading and squishing and groping those tits until Steve’s blushing, his mouth open, eyes heavily lidded, sweat beading at his hairline, begging Bucky to move on and touch him somewhere else, anywhere else! His nipples swollen and so hard. Irrestable. Bucky would indulge him… sort of. He would move on. But he’d have to give the same thorough attention to his soft belly, his growing hips, his thick thighs, and his fat ass. His body deserves to be pleasured until he’s out of his mind.

When Steve’s loose and warm, they’re hanging out in some back-alley sports bar in Brooklyn for a game, watching the feed on TV, downing beers and greasy bar food with Sam and some other guys from the VA, and a sip goes down the wrong pipe so Steve has to pound his chest with a closed fist, ending up not coughing but belching loudly. For everyone else, the sound is covered by the rowdy cheers filling the crowded, dimly lit space. But not for Bucky. For Bucky, Steve is the only thing in focus. Steve, with his looser fit shirt disguise, blending in, his baseball cap tugged down low on his forehead, shading his eyes, his beard grown out, thick, and… Bucky can’t take it. His body. The way his belly scrunches up when he sits down, bulging out further. The way his throat moves when he chugs from a long-necked bottle. The way his pecs jiggle when he jumps up excitedly, cheering loudly, and the similar way his belly wobbles at the same time. The way he groans at the end of his beer burp, voice rough from yelling all night and soaked in hoppy, malty richness. The way his thighs spread out over his bar stool, expanding, stressing the seams of his jeans. He’s taking up so much space with his broad shoulders, excitable hand gestures as he talks, and his manspreading. Yet, it’s still not enough. His thighs fill out his tight, dark-wash denim so well that even when he’s manspreading, his thighs still touch. Bucky aches to curl up in his lap and kiss him, feeling his beard tickling his face. He wants the heat of that big, big body underneath him. He wants to feel the hot line of his erection when he grinds down into him - their stomachs pressed together, Steve’s heavy with bloating, greasy, fattening bar appetizers.

Bucky’s spank bank is over-fucking-flowing as Steve starts putting on weight and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would think Steve is doing it to him on purpose, teasing him, trying to get him to jump his bones 😏

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #weight gain #stuffing #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #chubby steve #alcohol consumption #tight clothes

[andguesswhat]

I couldn't sleep 🙈 I had to write this. be aware! 😅 Thanks @chalamazed for letting me use this one! 😘

How Armie met the devil

*

God, his head hurt. Armie groaned and tried to hold his head, but he couldn't.

What the hell had happened? Where the hell was he?

Slowly he came to consciousness.

He appeared to be sitting in a chair with his hands tied behind his back.

Great.

He sighed. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

But it didn't help, did it? Besides, it smelled pretty good here, he had to admit. Fruity-tart, if a little too smoky and warm, like hell. 

He blinked.

And when he got used to the red, blazing light streaming into his eyes, he looked up.

And saw him.

Wrapped in a red, flowing, shiny fabric. Draped seductively on a chaise longue, legs crossed over the armrest so that the pointy, heeled boots he wore were on full display.

"Hello," the androgynous creature with the wild curls purred as he let the fingers of his right hand play to wave at him.

Armie could only cough briefly in response.

Armie knew him. He had seen him a few times at the club. A beautiful creature, each time in a spectacular outfit, aloof as a unicorn. His aura proud and brave and so beautiful that Armie's imagination always went into overdrive when he saw him. But also dangerous and somehow unpredictable, so that even if he had his fantasies, he always had the feeling that he should keep his hands off him.

Speaking of hands…

Fragments of memory came up.

He had been in the club, and the guy had suddenly been standing next to him, in this red backless jumpsuit, so close and so beautiful that Armie had briefly held his breath.

They'd had a drink, the guy had put his hand on his shoulder, his body had snuggled close, they'd laughed.

And then kissed passionately in the hallway.

It had been so damn good.

The last thing he remembered was sucking on the guy’s neck while he moaned in his ear and slid his hand between his legs.

And then...?

He had no idea...

Maybe he had put something in his drink.

"Do you know who I am?" the guy said now, while lolling seductively on the chaise longue.

How incredibly beautiful he was.

And suddenly Armie had the feeling that he saw two little red horns peeking out from theses wild curls.

Armie blinked in disbelief.

What kind of drugs had he actually given him?

"Some kind of devilish drug dealer?"

The guy laughed gleefully. He once more lolled lasciviously on the chaise longue before standing up.

And looked simply stunning.

Armie almost groaned, his fantasies riding a roller coaster once again.

But what the - !

As the guy began strutting up and down in all his glory, Armie saw that this creature actually had a devil's tail, too!

Like a circus whip, this tail flicked back and forth tantalizingly.

And unfortunately, Armie couldn't say that it didn't turn him the fuck on.

"So," the guy continued pleasurably, "do you have any idea why I brought you here?" as his seductively saucy voice vibrated Armie's body.

"No." Armie had to admit honestly.

"I'm looking for someone.... Someone ... who will satisfy my needs, you know."

Slowly, lasciviously, he strutted toward Armie.

"But the problem is, people don't understand me. They think such a strong and powerful being as I am ..."

"You mean mentally strong?" Because come on, his body was beautiful, but never that strong!

Armie quickly bit his tongue, because if this really was the devil, maybe it wasn't very smart to tease him.

But the devil was just laughing quietly to himself, and something about that childlike manner fascinated Armie. It struck him right in the heart. How could a being be so damn adorable and so hot and slutty at the same time?

And to prove this point, the guy teasingly lifted his chin and placed his boot on the chair right between Armie's legs so that the tip of it touched his crotch. Or rather his already more than hard cock.

Holy shit.

He wanted to touch this guy so bad.

Grab his waist.

And so much more.

He felt the scarf on his wrists with his fingers behind his back. It was soft. Way too soft to really hold well.

The guy teasingly approached his face. His eyes sparkled darkly and Armie almost groaned when he saw the guy slowly moisten his lips with his tongue. Then that voice again, now no more than an erotic whisper.

"You wouldn't believe how many people want to lick my boots. I mean, I don't mind, it's nice to be whorshipped. But it's not exactly what I'm looking for. You know what I mean? Armie? Do you want to lick my boots?"

God, he just had sooo many images in his head of what he would like to do with this sexy little devil.

So he finally growled, "Actually, I'd rather do some other things with you.”

He was rewarded with a devilish smile. "So what's stopping you, Armie?"

He didn't need to say it twice.

The scarf around his wrists came loose and in less than a second he had his hand buried in the damn curls and pulled.

The devil gasped in excitement.

God yes, that was it.

After a quick glance around the room, Armie breathed into his ear, "Do you want me to fuck you over the counter here, or do you want me to fuck you against that window wall over there?"

The devil's eyelids fluttered as his mouth twisted into a slutty, satisfied grin.

"Both."

*

#charmie ficlet #charmie #as always not betaread #sigh #armie hammer #timmy x armie #armie x timmy

[beautifultacozippergiant]

Finally back on pt.2

Steve had laid out a pink pleated micro mini skirt, white lace thong panties, black stay up stockings, 3" heel black lace ankle boots, sheer white button up blouse, sheer pink lace bra, breast forms, and black leather collar that has "slut" in jeweled letters.

There was a note on the skirt that said, "No wig, style your own hair. You want to be a slut? I want to see how much of a slut you can be. Impress me bitch or be ready for a divorce! I want you ready to be picked up by 9 p.m. tomorrow night."

I spent all day yesterday pampering myself. Bubble baths and wine. I painted all my nails with a pink glitter polish. My toes show in the ankle boots Steve picked, so I want them to look nice. I had a wonderful sissygasm on Master Grey's dildo cock. GOD I love fucking him. Mmmm, anyway, I got all shaved and lotioned before styling my hair. It is just past collar length, but I had never tried to style it before. I was nervous but it was actually fun. I still prefer my long wigs, but the shorter style made me look rebellious. I did my make-up and went a little extra with pink colors to match my outfit.

Getting dressed, my hands were shaking as the reality started to set in. My wife's BF was going to pick me up looking like a total whore.

Once dressed, I looked in my full length mirror and it made me even more nervous. Stocking were on full display, bottom 1/3 of me ass was showing due to the VERY small skirt he picked out, and my bra and tits may as well have been uncovered. With my hands shaking even more, I poured another glass of wine since I had about 20 minutes before Steve was supposed to arrive. Sipping wine most of the day had me pretty relaxed, but when Steve pulled up, I felt my heart racing!

It wasn't quite dark yet, so I knew this was a dangerous walk to his car. To make it worse he parked curb side instead of on the driveway. I grabbed my clutch with my i.d., lipstick, and house key, and headed out.

Wheni got in he looked me up and down before he said, "You make me better cunt that a man."

Bowing my head, I told him thanks. I had my blouse open to just above mid tit. Being mostly se through I thought it was enough. Steve told me to unbutton my blouse and tie it at my waist. I did as I was told and looking down I was no longer a slut. I was a full blow exhibitionist whore.

As we drove Steve told me to pull his cock out and suck it. Like a true whore I dove in to find his massive fuck stick. I sucked, slurped, and took as much of his half hard dick in my mouth as possible. Every once in a while he would push the back of my head down and force more of his dick in my throat.

We stopped and he told me to sit up. When I did I saw we were at some kind of club. He looked at me and very sternly told me, "Do not adjust your clothing unless I tell you to. Do not embarrass me. Do not be disobedient. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded yes, but Steve grabbed my chin so I had to look in his eyes. He barked at me, "Do you understand bitch?"

I said, "Yes Sir."

He then told me, "That will be your ONLY response is Yes Sir or there will be consequences. Now get the fuck out."

We walked into this club. It was a gay club and had other cross dressers, but none looked anywhere near as slutty as me. Steve told me to follow him. Apparently, he had been there... a lot. He knew so many people. I followed him out to a patio table, and he ordered me a drink. We sat for a few before a young man asked Steve if I could dance with him. Steve said, "Take the bitch and enjoy her."

It was more grinding than dancing. He kept my skirt up over my panties every chance he got. If I was facing him he would lift my skirt to grab my ass. Facing away from him and he would lift it to grab my bare hips and grind his bulge against my boi pussy.

This went on for a couple of hours. Drinks, dancing, more drinks, being groped, having my ass slapped, and more drinks. I was feeling pretty drunk when Steve grabbed my arm and led me out of the club.

I remember seeing 11:10 p.m. on this dash clock. Withing a couple of minutes he parked again, but this time in front of an adult arcade.

I obediently followed him in. Men everywhere were staring at me. Steve led me to a theater room. We sat near the back and watched the porn that was playing on the big screen. Because of the screen size it lit the room up pretty well.

Steve forced me to my knees and pushed his exposed cock in my mouth. As I enjoyed pleasuring hime I noticed men were gathering around. This is when Steve told me to stand up and bend over the chairs. When I did he raised my skirt and loudly said, "This cunt is yours to use and enjoy. She can’t say no."

Suddenly I had hands all over me. I felt a dick being pushed in my pussy. As he began fucking me from behind a cock was pushed down my throat and started fucking my mouth and throat relentlessly.

Within a minute the one fucking me exploded deep inside me. He wasn't the largest cock but damn he flooded me. So much it was pouring out before he stopped throbbing.

He pulled out and another, larger dick went in balls deep in one push. I almost had a full-blown sissygasm right then. The dick in my mouth gave a final push down my throat, and then he blew his hot seed into my belly. I didn't know where Steve was but I wanted to make sure he was pleased. So I swallowed for all I was worth. When this guy took his dick out of my mouth the one fucking me pulled me backwards so I was riding his cock reverse cowgirl. Then 2 more cocks were in my face.

This repeated itself again and again. Still being drunk I don't know how many men fucked me, or fucked me twice, but when Steve finally took me out I had cum everywhere. It was in my hair, on my face, on my tits and stomach, dripping from my pantie covered pussy, and a belly full of man seed.

When I got home I was told to sit and wait. Steve went to the store, but when he came back he threw me face down on the floor, ripped my panties off, and pushed his huge cock to my cum filled cunt. Even lubed by cum his girth was making it difficult to take him. He kept pushing and when the head of his dick popped into my fuckhole??? I thought he was tearing me apart!!

He started slow fucking me while working more and more inside me. As he got deeper I was relaxing more. As he got deeper I could feel my own orgasm building.

He started fucking me in long strokes and feeling his balls slap against me when he hit bottom was euphoric! He was deeper than I had ever had, thicker than I had ever had, and it hurt SOOOO good. As I started lifting to fuck him back he told me to beg for it. Beg for him to fuck me like the whore I am.

I was practically screaming for him to fuck me, cum in me, and use me like a whore. When my sissygasm hit? It ravaged my body!!! All of the alcohol, fucking, sucking, cum, and exhibitionist whoring I had done that night plus having this massive meat fucking me while I begged for it! My body convulsed and my clitty was spurting wildly.

This must have set him off too. The last thing I remember is him grabbing my collar and pulling hard! Cutting off my air as I felt the first convulsions of him cumming deep inside me as I blacked out.

I came to and Steve was dressed. He said, "You may just make it out of this unscathed."

It is now 4 a.m.... finally showered, but still have cum leaking from my VERY sore and VERY stretched fuckhole. I'm gonna sleep so well.