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forcedfemme-me · 9 months

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Philosophy di Lorenzo Serafini Fall 2023

#Philosophy di Lorenzo Serafini #leather #leather shirt #leather top #leather skirt #black leather #Fall 2023 #runway

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thecatalogueofroyalfashion · 26 days

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Crown Princess Victoria || top by Stylein, skirt by Philosophy by Lorenzo Serafini

#Crown Princess Victoria #Stylein #Philosophy di Lorenzo Serafini #Philosophy by Lorenzo Serafini #top #skirt #midi #Prince Daniel

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majorplayer · 11 months

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something that is very funny to me is how, for all their efforts, i don't believe that clash managed to fully remove gender from toons. sure, anyone can have or not have eyelashes, and anyone can wear whatever clothes they want, but gender is still in the game to a degree. i assume it was baked so deeply into the code that they did their best to make it such that, from the perspective of the average person, it effectively doesn't exist anymore, though it must be handled behind-the-scenes.

you can tell it's still there in some capacity by how your toon's model changes when switching between shorts and skirts. for one, the model flickers--its animation resets because its model has completely changed between the Boy/Shorts Model and the Girl/Skirt Model. additionally, the shirts on the two models are noticeably different in several ways: the boy model's sleeves are larger; the boy model's shirt goes ever so slightly higher up the toon's neck; the boy model's abdomen protrudes slightly further out.

from this information, you might reasonably conclude that clash managed to allow on-the-fly gender changes for toons. that is to say, when you wear shorts, your toon is using the boy model, and when you switch to a skirt, your toon instantaneously switches to using the girl model. however, i don't think this is the case (i could be 100% wrong though, i'm not knowledgeable about this). if you watch old TTO fashion videos of girl toons, you'll see the same model changes and behavior that you see in all clash toons today. you can even see it in TTR today if you log in, make a girl toon, and switch between skirts and shorts in create-a-toon, since it appears that TTR has maintained TTO's gender code in this sense.

clash forcing toons to switch between boy models and girl models sounds like a lot of work. therefore, i think they quite simply made all toons be girl toons in the code, possibly even removing boy toons altogether. think about it. girl toons already had the (limited) capacity to switch between skirts and shorts, whereas boy toons had no capacity (beyond exploits and glitches) to wear skirts. it seems like the most efficient route would be for clash to remove eyelashes from the girl toon model and make them an optional accessory thing, then re-code (or entirely re-make) all shirts and bottoms to be wearable by girl toons.

it's the only thing i can think of to explain the fact that all clash toon models behave in the same manner as TTO girl toons. there is no other reason for the model's animation to reset when changing between shorts and skirts.

there IS still gender in clash... all toons are girls.

#one may argue that if there is only 1 gender then there is no gender at all. can i get an A in philosophy class now?#the only flaw i can find in my own argument is that TTR doesn't have the sleeve sizes change on girl toons between shorts and skirts #it DOES have the shirt go higher up the neck AND the abdomen protruding further while wearing shorts... but not the sleeve size #so... clash COULD actually be switching between boy models and girl models?#TTR doesn't appear to change sleeve sizes at all tho--they look the same to me on boy AND girl toons regardless of skirt/shorts #i am honestly not sure what is up with this part but if someone knows the facts then lmk because i'm curious #ttcc #toontown corporate clash #original

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outfitsinspiration · 2 months

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Who: Blair Eadie

What: Philosophy Di Lorenzo Serafini Plumetis Net Midi Skirt (Sold Out) from the Fall 2017 Collection Where: Instagram - April 5, 2024

Worn with: Sister Jane jacket, Larroude sandals

#blair eadie #fashion #2024 #skirts #philosophy di lorenzo serafini #april 5 2024 #april 2024 #instagram 2024 #fashion inspo #instagram #style #love

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sutorus · 8 months

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THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.

PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader

WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms

A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?

reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:

it is said that those who cannot do, teach.

geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility.

but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do.

to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man.

but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you.

he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—).

when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like.

(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)

it was slowly starting to consume him.

the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year.

god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—

he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it.

everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives.

everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him.

but you damn well managed to.

and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair.

“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”

bullshit.

the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately.

and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class.

it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!

but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there.

however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.

you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours.

his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.

his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed.

under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are.

but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know.

but you knew for a fact that it was personal.

“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”

you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”

he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”

“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance.

“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively.

“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”

megumi lifts an eyebrow.

“you need to get one for each,” he says simply.

you grin. “deal.”

suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class.

it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious.

watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test.

he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you.

the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well.

the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak.

he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class.

when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild.

he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another.

you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages.

you smile, waving at the screen.

“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”

your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.

“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.”

you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying.

“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”

you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had.

“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”

you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip.

“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”

as always, satoru is no help.

“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”

suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”

satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.”

suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you.

“that won’t fix anything.”

satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.

“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”

suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.

at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong.

it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself.

he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again.

it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that.

suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this.

your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest.

the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know.

damn right it’s personal.

you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation.

geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off.

he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?”

your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over.

“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”

the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.

“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“

“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”

“miss—“

“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger.

geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“

“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”

he sits up, straightening his posture.

geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”

you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on.

“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”

there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair.

he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet.

“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you.

you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”

the man hums.

“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”

you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“

“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.”

your mouth goes dry.

before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from.

it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo.

you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction.

you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently.

but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you.

“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest.

he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”

you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom.

you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.

“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue.

“what a shame.”

your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”

he smiles sweetly.

“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now…

now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.

those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun.

you could so easily forget what you came here for.

“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”

he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”

“geto—“

“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”

you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn.

you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“then… push me, professor.”

it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest.

he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together.

it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two.

he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh.

geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief.

you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.

but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.

geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan.

his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core.

“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”

he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.

god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin.

“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.

geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside.

you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips.

the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you.

“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”

you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again.

“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”

you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.

not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.

you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat.

he looks so good like this, just edible.

you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue.

he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.

geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive.

he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock.

it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds.

“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly.

“tastes better on your tongue, prof.”

geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of.

he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees.

you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper.

“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face.

he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants.

you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved.

you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside.

he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth.

god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would.

you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.

you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones.

“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”

“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”

and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man.

but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo.

so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks.

“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“

and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time.

he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over.

geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.

“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt.

you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.

“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“

“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core.

you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.

it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you.

“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs.

his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else.

geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear.

“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt.

you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn.

you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him.

longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you.

he notices you looking.

“do you need more prep? i can—“

“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk.

he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”

you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip.

“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”

geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him.

“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head.

his spirit is so unbreakable.

here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better.

geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair.

“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized.

“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”

he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers.

“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this.

he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth.

“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle.

a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.

you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back.

when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening.

“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts.

he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out.

“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”

you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in.

the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you.

you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade.

“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“

“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go.

he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin.

your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.

he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt.

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“

he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips.

geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you.

“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“

you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.

“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom.

you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.”

“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”

geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you.

“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”

“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”

“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”

you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts.

“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”

you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you.

you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you.

your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer.

the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release.

geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got.

“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“

it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you.

he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure.

it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you.

geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of.

when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy.

“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows.

“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”

“…is probably going to happen again, right?”

he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.

maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.

you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips.

“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?”

the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession.

so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles.

and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.

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bunicate · 3 months

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Wrio with a cute bunny girl who goes into heat that actually makes him go at it like bunnies! >.< so much so that he couldn’t even get hard anymore and reader just whines and pokes it telling his cock to get hard again for more breeding!

i luv this idea eeeek. big domineering man + docile horny bunny girl will always be delish .

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི bunny fem reader ᕱ⑅ᕱ daddy kink. minor breeding ﾉ wc ꒱ 0.5k ﾉ 18+

wriothesley knows that for others they believe rules are made to be broken.

he didn’t necessarily follow that same philosophy. he preferred to run on the straight lines, rarely ever straying, but he knows that many wouldn’t do the same.

luckily he’s more than capable of adapting and making sure that those who sought to play out of bounds would be dragged back in by his bare hands.

rules are there for a reason, and he couldn’t understand how they slipped from him this time.

he regrets giving in to your every request. he admits it’s because his heart softened at the sight of a creature so precious.

wriothesley is wasting away on the bed with his clothes disheveled and stained while the bunny he loves so dearly, ravaged him.

“you’re so handsome daddy . . .”

there it is again.

the dulcet sound of your soft voice feathered by a petulant whine.

your finger poked his spent cock. it laid wet and heavy on his taut stomach, with some of his cum damp on his chest. he can’t remember how many times he’s fucked you. he was warned about your heat, and nothing could prepare him for this.

he’s fought tough battles, taking on men thrice his size, skirting on the edge of death. they were brutal fights that nearly cost him his life, and somehow that seemed like a much easier hill to climb.

he’s exhausted and drained of every drop of cum he could pump out, and you still weren’t done. you continued to kiss his cock, lapping at it with long and rough strokes. the skin of his leaking shaft was raw from your sucks and the heat from your inner walls.

he could barely muster the strength to speak. his voice is hoarse from commands that fell on your deaf ears and all the groans escaping his lips.

“baby . . . daddy is tired . g-give-give me a second.”

he pulls at your floppy ears to halt your movement, but you only nose at his balls in response. your tongue darts out to taste his sweaty skin and he curses at himself when his body betrays him.

his dick twitches to life from your incessant nipping, and hearts take shape in your eyes.

you drag your soft body on top of his once more to straddle him yet again. your fat bunny cunt gaping and dripping cum hovers over his pudgy tip before swallowing his entire member.

“fuckkkkkk . . bunny, you’re gonna kill me. . .how much fuckin’ nut does that little pussy need ?”

you make a sound, halfway from a moan and a giggle. like a good bunny, you hop up and down until his head kisses your womb filling it with hot seed.

your tits bounce with every jerk of your hips and his hand on your plump ass encourages more of your of passion.

“daddy daddy daddy , I need all of it ♡ love y’r cum so much, hnn~”

there was never a battle wriothesley couldn’t win, not yet at least, but this time, wriothesley forfeits.

he’s accepted that he’s finally lost, and that his sweet bunny girl was the cause of his demise.

#𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 ⪩⪨ .𖥔 ݁ ˖#wrio ❤︎#did this in a few mins . .#i hope 2 expand more mayb with wolf wrio and puppy bunny :p #but thts for another day !#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #bunny reader #wriothesley x reader smut

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lilbunnis · 8 months

Text

❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen has always wanted someone as his own; and with him already having claimed his vicious mount vhagar, the queen of dragons herself--- what is there to stop him from claiming you, too?

author’s note᛬ heey! 🍓 so……this is my second time posting this particular story--- however, it was a long time ago & someone anonymously requested to read it again. happily, i offered to repost it for them (with the exception that i re-edit it since my style of writing has changed / improved!) … anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated. ♡ + both aemond & reader are equally unhinged. <3 mwuah !

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, dubcon [kind of… but trust me, it’s wanted], dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, coercion, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 2.5k

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼, 𝐈’𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮.

aemond targaryen has always thought of her as his--- his to protect, his to care for, his to love; ever since he’d met her, he surrounded himself in her feminine presence, around her sweetness and innocence, keeping her close by and never letting her trail very far out of his sight.

unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d have one of his most trustworthy guards (loyal only to him) follow her around all day--- discreetly, of course.

however, during their short time apart, the one-eyed prince would be on constant edge; irritable and in a foul mood throughout the time that they were apart, not being able to trust anyone to truly protect his lady the way he knew he could.

oh, how he missed his dearly beloved so--- so much so, that the wayward prince was known for his brutal lashings and merciless beheadings (all a gift to his love) to all of those who merely breathed the wrong way in his proximity.

or simply, sweet gifts of pretty, sparkling sapphires and pearls.

still, he knew that she thought his temper and rage was charming, as she had once told him in that sweet, gentle little voice of hers, soothing his fiery temper as if she were the maiden reborn.

like his own little angel, so delicate, tender-hearted and mine, aemond thought.

sometimes, most of the time, aemond would just simply gaze at her, at her beauty, longingly; like she was the center of the universe and held all of the twinkling stars in the night sky.

most people wouldn’t dare to believe such a thing, but aemond thought it was cute when she learned something new in philosophy, excitedly wanting to share the new knowledge she’d learned from her septa with him--- even if he already knew, just to be able to listen to her sweet, angelic voice.

oh, and on those simple days, content to just listen to her babbling on about whichever subject she deemed of interest; he would lovingly hand feed her fresh strawberries, one by one; the ripest, juiciest and sweetest ones, listening as she breathily moaned in content as each one entered her pouty mouth.

meanwhile, as his little darling continued on about whichever subject interested her at the moment; the one-eyed prince watched in delight as the red juices dribbled down her chin, allowing him to quickly swoop in and kiss it delicately away, causing him to hum in content at the sweet taste.

whether it be from the strawberries themselves or the sweet taste of her skin, it mattered not to the prince--- because the next moment, he would drop to his knees and feast on her delicious, drooling cunt; burying himself right beneath her fluffy skirts as he heard her girlishly moan and whimper for him, as he continued enjoying the taste of her maidenhood.

on lazy days, the prince will sit with her in his lap, one of his strong, lean arms wrapped snugly around her waist, most protectively; meanwhile, his free hand would slip beneath her fluffy skirts and play with her virgin, soaking cunt, teasingly stroking his long, calloused fingers through her wet, puffy folds.

seven above, and the sounds of her soft, breathy little moans, almost luring him to bend her right over the wooden table in the back of the library and rut into her like some wild, depraved beast, claiming her maidenhead as his.

‘twas almost too much to bear for the prince, knowing she was already his in body, mind, heart and soul.

he always imagined what she must taste like that day, right before he would feast on her cunny, almost to tease himself--- like freshly baked sweet tarts, spoonfuls of honey, strawberries…

late at night, while in the privacy of his own chambers, he’d furiously fuck his fist to the thought of burying his face between her smooth thighs once again, wanting nothing more than to taste and fuck her cunt with his tongue greedily; before he’d come so fucking hard in his hand, his seed coating the skin of his taut abdomen and dripping down his fingers--- sticky and messy and entirely spent.

sighing heavily, aemond would barely resist the temptation to exit his chambers and go straight to hers, knowing she’d welcome him with an open heart and open legs.

…fuck, what a waste of his seed, he thinks, for he could’ve pumped her empty womb full of his seed; fuck load after load inside of her, and come by morning, she would already be carrying his son in her belly.

rightfully so; she’s be so beautiful, so fragile, so obedient, a perfect little wife she’d be for him, indeed.

meanwhile, back in the library, aemond would continue teasing her little cunny, occasionally dipping the very tips of his fingertips into her little virgin fuck-hole, feeling how fucking tight she was for him, causing him to harden almost painfully inside of his leather breeches, right below her squirming, little ass.

like his very own wanton, silk street whore.

she continued to moan and whimper repeatedly; making him gently shush her with delicate kisses across her neck, spreading her dripping arousal all around her swollen bud, hearing her mewl his name like a prayer and grip the polished library table forcibly, watching her blissed-out face until she came all over his fingers.

when he made her come so hard with just playing with her little bundle of nerves, he had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure and whisper sweet praises into her ear, knowing how sensitive and needy she was in his arms, just after coming down from her peak and making her come so hard on his fingers.

of course, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to resist her--- and so, most nights, when aemond could no longer resist being away from her; the need to see her being just too much for him to bear any longer, he’d eagerly seek her out, knowing she’d be in her chambers, awaiting his arrival.

just as eager and wanton as he was, it seemed.

smirking, aemond chuckled softly, embracing her; “my sweetest, my darling, my little love--- fuck, i have missed you.”

he couldn’t control himself anymore, he needed to see her, to be with her, to have her.

always.

specifically, in the late hours of the night, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible; fuck, he loved her so much, he didn’t ever want her to doubt his love for her--- he stripped them both of their evening clothes, his amethyst eye dilated and wild at the sight of her nude form.

during those private evenings, aemond had convinced her for him to claim her as his… fully, in the ways only a man could claim a woman.

with his persuasion, his silver tongue easily convinced her into saying yes; causing him to release a purr and claim her body multiple times that night, until she was a shaking, sobbing and sweaty mess beneath him, full of loads of his seed, while he held her tightly against him in his arms--- possessively.

uncaringly, the prince left all sorts of love marks all across her skin, kissing every inch of her soft, glistening skin that he could reach, suckling on her swollen, puffy nipples, knowing her plush breasts would soon grow heavy with milk for their many babes that’d come someday soon.

selfishly, just maybe; he could persuade his little darling for a taste for himself--- fucking hells, he couldn’t wait for her to grow round and fat with his sons!

insatiably, he would fuck his already hardening, leaking cock back inside of her sopping cunt, his and her own moans of pure love and ecstasy echoing off of the walls of her chambers.

however, even with all of the bliss and pleasure and love; still came her doubts and worries.

his sweet lady, his precious love, his only girl--- was utterly terrified of someone finding out about their affair.

however, the fearsome, bloodthirsty dragon prince would always reassure her; whispering sweet words of his love and devotion into her ears, calming her by kissing her love-marked skin before he would fuck her squelching cunt once again with his cock, ploughing into her mercilessly, filling her with another load of his seed, until tears would stream down her blushy cheeks.

unable to stop herself, she’d let out the most feminine moans for him, not being able to control her sweet mewls from escaping her kiss-swollen lips, sobbing out deliriously as he continuously fucked her ruthlessly, uncaring of who heard them; for the one-eyed prince was too addicted to the taste of her and the pretty, precious sounds she made just for him.

it wouldn’t matter anyway, if anyone were to find out about their love affair--- aemond genuinely honestly couldn’t give a fuck if someone were to tell her lord father that her maidenhead was claimed by him anyone.

if anyone would dare to question his lady’s virtue or purity, he would cut out their tongues, before mercilessly killing them and feed their mutilated corpse to his mighty beast, vhagar.

aemond had always been a possessive man, especially when it concerned his sweet little lady, to the point that most of the noble lords and ladies of the court started to take notice; however, the fearsome prince paid them little attention--- nowadays, his only concern in life was his darling little bride.

some days, when the weather was warm enough and the sun was shining brightly, aemond would take his lady on long walks around the red keep’s royal gardens, right after he finished his morning training session with ser criston.

as always, it was just the two of them, together; and while he watched her instead of admiring the pretty flowers that she seemed so smitten by, he couldn’t stop the tiny grin from spreading across his face at just the mere sight of her.

her, her, her.

his--- his lady, his woman, his wife.

there was a secret, hidden alcove surrounded by various cherry trees and gorgeous pink peonies, which aemond would often bring her to visit; it was almost as if it was their special spot.

then, without warning, aemond would gently press her back up against one of the trunks of the pretty, blossoming cherry trees, kissing her so sweetly, so passionately, so tenderly; it made her swoon and see constellations on the backs of her fluttering eyelids.

“marry me.”

suddenly, she felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and she felt rather faint--- for a moment, her heart felt as if it had skipped several beats, because surely… her sweet aemond did not just ask the impossible of her?

again, aemond spoke.

“marry me,” he murmured against her soft, perfumed skin (that smelled of the lavender oils they’d previously bathed in that morning together) trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive neck, causing a breathy whimper to escape her pretty, pouty lips.

instantly, aemond’s ears had perked up to the sound of her breathing that was quickening, his large hands roaming and grasping at her sides as if to soothe her sudden panic, enjoying the feeling of her womanly curves against his big hands, even through the silk fabric of her pretty, sapphire colored dress.

“hmm…no,” she drawled lazily, though her sweet voice was teasing, “—my father is suspicious enough already about all of the rumors going on about us…he doesn't ask, of course; i’m afraid it’s because he is too frightened of you,” she giggled softly, batting her long eyelashes up at the handsome prince.

aemond smirked, amused by his little darling.

“besides,” she continued softly, her usual sweetened voice saddened and aemond watched as his lady’s heart was visibly breaking right before his own eye, “—my father… he will arrange a betrothal for me soon and i must do my duty, as is expected of me,” she whispered, while gently twirling a few strands of her lover’s long silvery hair around one of her fingers, her face sullen--- like a little girl having her favorite treat taken away from her.

aemond hummed; a soft, dangerous sound as his face remained stoic, not displaying a single emotion that he was currently feeling--- his natural-born eye on the other hand…was a raging storm of a dark, angry violet, screaming promises of fire and blood.

“that'll never happen,” aemond murmured softly, his voice a raspy baritone, completely unbothered, “—if your father even dares to try and take you away from me, he'll suffer a most painful death; i assure you, my sweet lady.”

her heart fluttered, both of her cheeks heating up and her head began to feel fuzzy, a dreamy expression forming on her pretty face; though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warm weather or by his loving, murderous words.

“you're so sweet,” she cooed dreamily, smiling up at him as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck loosely, her fingers gently brushing through more of his long silvery hair, feeling how silky-smooth the strands were--- curtsey of the queen, his darling mother; a sweet gift of scented oils she had gotten for her favorite son all the way from pentos.

“only for you, my beloved,” the prince promised, tenderly brushing his knuckles along one of her rosy cheeks, bending down towards her shorter height and capturing her rouge-stained lips in a sweet, deeply passionate kiss--- a deep, throaty sound of lust escaping from him.

ah, she tastes of the sweetest of innocence and strawberries.

his favorite.

‘twas as if the prince could never get enough of her taste, of her.

sweetly, she releases a little whine, high-pitched and so needy for him; the sweetness of a poisonous kiss--- oh, how he wants to love her forever and bathe in all of the glorious love she had to offer him.

gods, he loved her… only, only, only her.

“my angel, so soft and pure, so innocent; and your precious heart… it is mine,” he growled, deepening the kiss against her lips--- his large, warm and calloused hands began trailing down to cup her sweet, little ass through her skirts, bundling the silky, sapphire colored fabric in his greedy hands to fondle and squeeze the soft flesh of her asscheeks; pinching and clutching possessively.

grinning wolfishly, aemond trailed his open-mouthed kisses down her delicate neck, suckling freshly new love marks into her fading, bruised skin--- all across her neck, jawline, collarbones and the very tops of her soft, perky breasts.

“marry me,” he asked once again, sounding impatient, though he wouldn’t mind begging, if it only meant claiming her for himself.

she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him sweetly, all across his chin and the corners of his mouth, feeling his hands roam freely all over her once more before settling still, giving her backside a loving squeeze.

“be my wife,” he pleads once more, his tone of voice more desperate than ever before, sweet as sugar and the burning flesh of corpses.

she released a small sigh, moving closer just slightly so that she could brush her saliva-coated lips softly against his own, “yes,” she breathed lovingly, feeling as he visibly shuddered against her just from her mere acceptance of his begging proposal.

“i’ve always been yours.”

fin.

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bunnyreaper · 6 months

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john price gets you a special gift (18+/MDNI, d/s dynamics, mild degradation. written for @ghostlywhiskey)

the gift box on the bed stares back at you menacingly, the red wrapping paper signaling your impending fate. john price had a certain philosophy when it came to the bedroom and to pleasing you, his wife--no expense or effort would ever be spared.

this often meant gift after gift of a new toy for you to try, the latest styles of lingerie to make you feel confident, or something unexpected that john had been mulling over in his mind. you wondered which of these this specific gift would be.

john stands behind you, blue eyes focused on your face with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you process. a firm, large paw kneads at the back of your neck--encouraging, yet underlied with a sense of greed, an undercurrent of dominance.

"open it, love." he husks, releasing your neck and pushing you forward ever so slightly toward the mattress.

you fall to the mattress, tucking up your legs beneath you and sitting on them before you reach for the wrapped box. "don't know whether to be excited or nervous." you admit, voice shaky as you peel back the paper.

the box beneath is nondescript, a sleek black with no markings--it's only once you peel back the lid that you realise exactly what lies before you. you pull out the rubber toy with trembling hands, a wave of arousal, intrigue, and humiliation washing over you.

the fake flesh jiggles in your hands as the exposed holes stare back at you--supple folds surround the hollow, looking strangely like your own.

"is it... for you?" you ask, uncertain, turning to john with sparkling, questioning eyes.

so many thoughts course through your head, racing at a million miles an hour. why does john need a pocket pussy? are you not good enough? but then... why did he get one that looks just like you?

john slots himself behind you--his fully clothed body against your bare one. rough denim slides against lacy panties, soft cotton against the clasp of your bra. he takes ahold of your chin, gripping you softly and squeezing your cheeks until your lips pout.

"love, i don't need a pocket pussy." he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his grip tightening as he claims your mouth and tilts you. his free hand glides down the column of your throat, grasping over your breasts before sliding down your body and working its way below your panties.

his thick fingers slide into your already wet folds, skirting past your clit as they sink straight into your needy hole. the two fingers hook inside you roughly, pulling you back against his straining, clothed cock as he grinds himself into you. "only toy i need is right here."

he starts to curl his fingers against your insides, scraping deliciously as you begin to squirm and thrash in his hold--gripping the toy in your hands furiously.

"my pretty fuckin' wife." he growls, words only enhanced by the sensation of his ring finger in your cunt--the cold metal against your tight, wet heat.

"nothing compares to the feeling of you wrapped around my fingers, my fuckin' cock."

you cry out, body jerking against your husband john's grip on you. it's hard to summon the ability to think, let alone speak, but you try your best to verbalise what little thought process you do still have as your clutch on the toy weakens with every thrust of his fingers

"and you think.... i need... toys?" your breathless words are almost squeaks as john's assault on hole continues.

barely seconds after you finish your question, he's pushing you forward and down on the bed, fingers unhooking from you cunt before he reaches over to reposition you exactly how he wants you. the pocket pussy is placed right before you, as your head is jerked around by john's fingers threading through your hair and tugging you upwards.

"this is what you wanted right, love? wanted a pussy to play with?" his words are purred, teasing and dripping with his desire to see you obey his upcoming commands.

you know in this moment more than ever that he's right--you are just a toy for him, holes for his amusement, just like the ones inches away from your face.

"john..." you can't help but whine, body flooded with arousal as what is about to happen dawns on you.

your mouth salivates at the thought, eager to eat the pretty little cunt before you, desperate to curl your tongue into the hole and lap at it even if it's not warm or wet like the real thing.

john drapes his body over yours before pushing your head forward--lips against lips. his own settle against the shell of your ear as he whispers so sweetly. "eat this little plastic cunt, love, and if you're good enough, i'll eat yours after, yeah?"

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain price #captain john price #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #bunny writes

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ghouljams · 3 months

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Professor!Ghost who is well respected in his field, a little harsh in terms of grading, and not great with keeping office hours, but beloved by his students. I desperately want to stick him I philosophy where he BELONGS, I know he's got all sorts of complicated feelings and thoughts on humanity and it's nature, but he could also be a history professor, specifically teaching the history of combat/war. He doesn't socialize much, doesn't know anyone in his department, doesn't want to. He has his regular drinking group, the 141, and he's happy with that. He just wants to teach his class, write his papers for his special interest, and go home to watch the footie game.

Love walks into his class in the middle of lecture and he gruffly asks her to take her seat. She looks around and plops her butt down in the front row, dutifully listening and making the correct facial expressions the whole rest of class. Ghost tries not to pay too much attention to her, but she's all sweet smiles and a short skirt, biting her finger and crossing/uncrossing her legs one too many times to not be purposeful. She doesn't even have a notebook. It's only once Ghost checks his watch and asks if there's anything else before class is over that she raises her hand, flashing those pretty pink nails for the rest of the class. Ghost begrudgingly calls on her and has to stop himself from flinching when she says,

"I'm teaching history of human sexuality and its been cross listed with philosophy, I was told you were who I should talk to about recommended readings for that?" With the sweetest voice he's ever heard, soft and sultry and terribly distracting the way she leans forward against the lecture hall desk, like she's hoping he'll peak down her shirt.

"I don't have any," he does.

"Sounds like you do," she smiles.

"You're in the department, find them yourself." Ghost grouches, moving on to the next raised hand.

"Anthropology actually," Love corrects him, "or else I would have."

Ghost lets out a frustrated growl, grumbling to himself as he walks to his podium and scribbles down his office hours, stalking back and snapping the paper into her hand. "Ask me when I'm not in class."

"How about over dinner?" He glares and she laughs, "fine, just office hours, I'll see you then."

Ghost does his best to ignore her as she stands to go, eyes darting over his schedule as she walks. God dammit. He would've gone to faculty meetings if he knew something that pretty and dangerous was walking around.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #oc: love #f!oc #you know what this is Waves' fault #im not writing anything else for this #i say that knowing I'm screaming into the void #yes its with love and not goose #but Goose would never have the patience for academia #Love on the other hand has special interests that lend themselves well to writing papers #her office is full of weird dead things and relics

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nyc-looks · 1 year

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Skye, 21

“My loafers are Dr. Marten, skirt I got at the Manhattan Vintage show, button-down is Uniqlo, cardigan is Heaven by Marc Jacobs, blazer is my mom’s and vintage Ralph Lauren, and bag is Los Angeles Appeal but when they were American Apparel. My style philosophy: Wait for pieces that call to you rather than what the industry is trying to push on you. Curate your own wardrobe thoughtfully.”

Mar 29, 2023 ∙ Chelsea

#nyc looks #street style #street snap #street fashion #style #fashion #clothes #outfit #trends #lookbook #new yorker #fit student #fashion institute of technology #heaven by marc jacobs #vintage ralph lauren #blue hair #leather skirt #los angeles apparel #american apparel

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confietti · 1 month

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kento nanami is a man of self-restraint.

your philosophy professor, a rather basic man, whom everyone normally thought was a lonely man because of his strict nature and consistently stoic expression, suddenly finds himself drawn to one of his students, you.

he couldn't seem to resist you. he knows it's wrong, still, he can't help but think that you're doing this on purpose.. the way you come to class all dolled up in a skirt too short to be deemed appropriate.

and when you sat down he almost always broke his composure since whenever you crossed your legs he'd catch a glimpse of what he'd be getting after class.

anybody could notice the way you two look at each other if they paid close enough attention. but of course, nobody ever did. the way your eyes flicker... it's undeniable.

kento nanami is a man of self-restraint.

he's a man of self-restraint up until that one day when you came to his class during office hours to ask for "help" on the essay he assigned during class.

the way your thighs squish together while your tight pink sundress began to bunch up your legs.

kento nanami was a man of self-restraint. until he realized you weren't wearing any panties. he studied you attentively as you read your rough draft to him. sighing while scrunching up your little nose because you were frustrated with the assignment.

he knew damn well you were lying because although you're a little airheaded, your essays never failed to amaze him.

you bit your lip, mesmerized by how he looked, slumped down in his brown leather chair. and he was doing the same to you.

you were taunting him, at least that was what he thought. the way the ends of your nails end up between your teeth while you watched him edit your draft, thighs clenched together and nipples hard because of the cold air.

he thinks that that was probably how you wound up clutching his desk for dear life, thighs trembling while his fingers thrust in and out of your soaked cunt.

you felt the cold metal of the wedding ring on his finger on your thigh, but you didn't care, and neither did he. fuck it. you worked for it. you deserved it. much more than his wife.

you've daydreamed about this moment constantly, eyes eagerly searching for his. don't get him wrong, he knows it's wrong. he knows he shouldn't initiate whatever "this" is with you. but somehow, he found himself pushing himself into your cunt.

you groaned, cheek resting on the cold wood of the desk as your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling, your nails made small scratchings into the wood while he forced himself in and out of you.

tears pooled on the surface of his desk, your mascara tinting your face with a black hue.

you mewl lewdly as he leans down to nibble on your ear, practically brushing against your back and pants in your ear. the sounds bouncing off the walls are obscene.

gasping, mere slapping noises, and his deep breaths send you into ecstasy. the kisses were chaste and gentle, compared to the inappropriate actions committed with each of his forceful thrusts.

you cried out as you creamed around his cock, cunt tightening around him, bringing him over the edge. he lets out an uneasy moan as he pulled out and released all over your back.

there was a brief moment of silence as the both of you came down from your highs, he was about to break the silence but his phone went off.

[ 1 new message]

honey, are you going to be working late again?

well, fuck.

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