#And I think you all deserve so much more praise

[chococolte]

Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?” 

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #sagau #cult au #sagau zhongli #yandere zhongli #cult au zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #self aware genshin au #self aware genshin #gender neutral reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii I was looking to see if your request is open but couldn’t find it so I’ll just drop it here and feel free to write it :) I love your writings! 🌸

May I ask for batboys reacting to shy reader who wants them to lie down on her lap after their long day. She wants to praise them, play with their hair and shower them with kisses :0 thank you!

Dick:

Would rest his head on your lap regardless of whether you asked him to do not, your lap was the perfect pillow for him and he will not have it any other way.

‘Hi baby.’ He greets as he beams up at you from the comfort of your lap.

‘Hi honey, long day?’ You greeted back, your hands already finding their way into his hair and began to comb through it slowly as he hums, burrowing himself closer to you as a means to feel more of you against him.

‘Yeah but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ Dick replied and smiled wide when you kissed his cheek before kissing his nose, and felt his heart melt upon giggling you giggling when he scrunched up his face.

‘Is there nothing that my handsome man can’t do?’ You asked sarcastically as you pressed a kiss to his other cheek. ‘Or is he just the most perfect man in existence?’

Dick made a face at this. ‘Have you maybe considered that this handsome man of yours has an amazing, wonderful and beautifully cute spouse waiting at home for him as inspiration?’ He looks at you with a raised brow.

‘I’m the one who’s meant to be praising you tonight, not you praising me.’ You chuckled as you peppered his face in small, quick kisses that had Dick reaching a hand to the back of your head, holding you close so he could give you a plethora of kisses of his own.

‘Well what if we could just both praise the other tonight.’ Dick said against your lips.

‘I can deal with that.’ You replied as you spent the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings to one another and trading kisses.

Jason:

Your lap was his save haven after a long and tiresome day from having to listen to Bruce critique his way of ridding crime out of Gotham. So he wasn’t going to refuse your affection, not when you shyly patted your lap as an invite to rest his head and looking cute whilst doing so.

God had his permission to smite him to his second death should he actually refuses your requests to coddle him and shower him in all your love and adoration.

If anything the days where you offered up your lap to him were the best days of his entire life as he got to spend it looking up at an absolute angel that he was lucky enough to call his own.

‘How’s my gorgeous jay birdie feeling today?’ You asked as you kissed his along his jaw and stopping when you got to his chin.

‘I’m feeling fantastic now that I’m with you sweetheart. How about you.’ He replied back as he looked up at you with his pretty eyes that he knew made you weak. Jason only wanted to give you back the love and support that you give him on a daily basis tenfold, for it’s what you truly deserved in his eyes.

He loved you too much to allow you to settle for mediocrity.

‘I’m feeling much better now my strong, brave boy has come home to me safe and one less bruise to ice.’ You responded with a lighthearted chuckle as you lifted up one of his large hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before resting your cheek against it to commemorate his warmth and callouses to memory.

‘Don’t come at me with that sweetheart, I know you love icing my bruises, especially when they’re on my abdomen.’ Jason cheeked as he winked at you, taking pure enjoyment out of seeing your flustered face. It was a much needed breath of fresh air coming home to sweet, caring you from the cold, unforgiving outside and he cherished every bit of it for as long as he could.

‘Meanie.’ You murmur, booping him on the nose.

‘Meanie? How am I being mean chipmunk, I know how much you love my abs and my thighs.’ Jason chuckled as he booped your nose in retaliation. ‘Why do you think I never skip leg day?’

‘You’re more than perfect the way you are Jason,’ you countered, ‘perfect body or not you’re still my jay birdie. Forever and always.’ You whispered the last part as you pressed a sweet tender kiss to his lips as he smiled in response.

Tim:

He always finds himself perpetually tired from working himself to the bone, so when you offered up your lap for him to rest, the poor man practically sighed in relief, almost as if he were a man dying of thirst in the desert; finally having found the oasis he had been wandering aimlessly for.

‘You don’t know how much I needed this.’ Tim groans as he made himself comfortable in your lap, trying his hardest to not to close his eyes right then and there from the prepping of light kisses you were scattering across his forehead and under his eyes.

Gosh he hates how weak he gets from your little kisses but would die a little on the inside if you didn’t.

‘I’m sure I can take a guess.’ You said sweetly as you ran your hand through his hair. ‘You’ve been overworking yourself so much lately that I rarely see you as much,’ Tim’s stomach dropped upon hearing this but let you finish speaking, ‘but when I do see you it always makes me happy knowing that you’re okay.’ You then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘I’m sorry for-‘ you cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips, muttering a soft ‘don’t. Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t control.’

‘But I can control it!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘It’s not fair on you to exhaust yourself on me every night after patrol and still find it within yourself to take care of me…I don’t deserve any of it as it feels as though I’m taking advantage of you somehow.’ Tim trailed off as he looked away for you as guilt are away at him.

‘Tim,’ you called, ‘my sweet Tim as long as I know your okay and come home to me every night, then I don’t care how long I have to stay up just catch a glimpse of your handsome face.’ You reassured him as you kissed his jawline softly, and Tim felt himself weaken under your words and affection as he looked back up at you.

‘You really mean that?’ He asked almost quietly.

‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it with all my heart my sweet, smart boy.’ You said while pressing a singular kiss to his forehead.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc x y/n #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #Tim drake imagine #Tim drake imagines #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine

[svuguru]

toji rewards his stepdaughter for doing well on her math competition.

would do anything for that man to call me a smart girl, i'd fold.

also we need more stapdad toji🥹🥹🥹🥹

Tags: STEPCEST!!!!! ANTIS AND MINORS DO NOTTTT INTERACT PLEASE!!!!! I’m not responsible for the content you do or do not consume!!!!!!! Thanks x

It was the way you excitedly ran up to him with a wide grin plastered on your face, telling him all about how you did so good on your little math competition, that really got his pants tight. Not only that, but oh he’s so proud of his sweet girl for doing so well. What better way to reward her than get her dumb on his cock?

“Such a smart girl, yeah?” Toji grunts, “for so much knowledge in this pretty little head of yours, hm,” he’s thrusting his fat cock into your little cunt as he says this, his voice deep and low as he whispers this in your ear.

“Uh-huh!” You gasp, digging your nails into Toji’s broad, sweaty back to stay somewhat stable. “‘M such a smart girl, daddy,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, his head teasing that soft spot inside of you.

“‘M so proud,” Toji leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, a lazy smile tugging at his scarred lips. “Can’t believe my pretty girl is so smart!” The words he’s speaking has you squeezing him tight, your juices coating his dick. “Worked so hard, didn’t you?”

You mindlessly nod, so dumb on his cock even as he praises you for being so smart. “Mhm, really smart, promise…!” Your stepdad is just so generous… so caring of his little girl, maybe a bit more than he should be.

“I know, I know,” his breath is warm against your skin, his sweat dripping down his forehead. The room is humid and it reeks of sweat but you don’t even acknowledge it, way too stupid on your step daddy’s thick dick.

You can feel him so deep in you, you can feel your release building up and tying knots in your tummy.

“S’deep, daddy… so big!” You whine which only makes Toji laugh breathily.

“Yeah?” He pants, “you can take it, you’re a smart girl,” to Toji, you look so adorable under him, your cheeks flushed and your lashes wet, your lips sore and plump as your jaw goes slack.

“Feels weird, daddy,” you mumble, “think ‘m gonna cum…!” Toji knows you in and out (literally), so he doesn’t put a halt to his hips, only getting a bit more rough, but not too aggressive so as to not hurt his precious smart girl.

“Think so?” Toji plants a kiss to your cheek and exhales. “Cum on daddy’s cock, baby, my clever princess deserves it.” The way he keeps praising you plays a big role in the way you come undone, Toji’s thrusts not stopping or going softer, fucking you through it as stars paint your vision.

A hiccup falls from your lips, tears falling from your lash line though Toji’s big finger wipes them away, occasionally kissing them away too.

“There we go, good girl…” Toji’s eyes pat intense attention to your facial expressions, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hair a mess and saliva coating your lips. “Did so well for me, sweetheart!” He says proudly. “You think you can do something for daddy? Can daddy finish inside, hmm? Yeah?” So tuckered out, you nod again, murmuring a sweet, “uh-huh,” “Aww, such a sweet girl…”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #toji x reader #fushiguro Toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 01. Whitney Worship

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,652 Warnings: OOC, body worship, general worship, older whitney, fingering, established relationship, consent checks, praise kink Prompt(s): 05 — worship Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: YAYYYY thank you so much bby for being my first event request eee!!! my biggest fan MWAH smooching u sm right now. so happy i get to start this event off with something soft and loving <3 sending u so much love, thank u sm for your kind words and for always supporting me!!

(also i really want some more soft whitney content... u cant convince me that this man wouldn't absolutely dote on you the older he gets </3)

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he's always felt this way about you. A bit difficult not to, his heart stuttering from the first moment he met you, blindsided by how much he wanted to be yours— enough that his need remained buried under layers of dominance and control for years to come. But the stubborn little boy you learned to love was incapable of expressing his emotions correctly, in a way that could ever truly be understood; and yet you loved him anyway. Even through all the harsh words, the endless name calling, and the straight up abuse he had you suffer through, you loved him. How you're still by his side is beyond him, a twinge of hurt in his chest burrowing down to his tummy, soothed only by the cute little mewl you instinctively know to let out in encouragement. Describing himself as thankful doesn't even do his emotions justice, and words of praise even less so— though still he tries.

This is the least he could do in return for all those awful years he subjected you to. A gentle promise spread across the pad of his thumb, rubbing tenderly up and down your hip for you to giggle at. And God, what a pretty sound that is. You can hear how it tugs at his heart, can't you? Surely, because he can barely hear himself think over the loud thump in his chest. How even the comparatively innocent touch of his free hand squeezing at your waist is charged with intent, the way your pretty lashes flutter under him as his nails drag up and down your exposed skin so lightly that it must tickle causing his breath to hitch. He can't help but mumble a pitiful pretty, and pitiful is correct, because he's so fucking down bad for you that it's insane. Should be illegal, if he had anything to say about it. Pouting down at you when you whisper his name, followed by a sweet thanks that God he just wants to drink up, biting down on his bottom lip to try and hide the wide smile your dulcet tones bring out of him— but it's no use. Of course you can see right through him. Always have, only now he's not so afraid to hide his true nature.

That being his complete and utter adoration for you and your pretty little body, soft skin hot under his rough hands; it's nice, yknow. To just touch you like this, ignoring the underlying hint of greed shown in the tent in his underwear in favour of rewarding you simply for existing. Because you deserve to be treated like the best thing that's ever happened to him; because you are. And he needs to do right by you now, make up for his past mistakes with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek in faux playful annoyance over your holier than thou position beneath him. The bottom truly holds all the power, don't you, love?

"I meant it. Too fuckin' pretty, s'annoying." He smiles, toothy and genuine when you smile back up at him. And he does mean it, fuck does he mean it. Leaning down a little to give your forehead a little kiss, trailing his lips down to your cheek only to place another, smiling against your skin when you giggle at his barely there touch grabbing at your waist to keep you in place for him to press a few more kisses at the corner of your lips in a teasing manner— a hoarse be patient crawling up his throat when you try to wiggle free to give him a proper kiss, but he soon gives in to your cuteness anyway. Letting his tongue poke out just a little against your lips, chest vibrating with a satisfied hum he moans down your mouth when you reciprocate the lewd action. But still, he'd like to take his time. Making out with you so slowly, still letting his hands roam up and down your naked body with purpose, as if mapping every possible inch of you in the event that you were to ever leave him— the thought of which has him kissing you deeper in a silent beg for you to stay. See, I love you.

Running his wide open palms up to your tits, letting himself cup them as delicately as possible as if he were afraid that anything stronger would have you shattering beneath him; a far cry from his younger self, he internally cringes at the memory. But in his kiss there lies hope. Hope for a better future, to become a better man for you. And that starts here, with every suck of your tongue inside his wanting mouth, every drop of shared saliva down each others throats, and every grope of his big hand against your tits. The other rests idly at your waist, dipping down just to playfully pinch at the fat of your thighs; one of his favourite places to be between.

He pulls away from your lips when he feels you do the same, enamoured by the string of saliva still stretched between his lips and your own as if it were an extension of you, and by that he means deserving of all the love he can muster. When you simply stare up at him with those big puppy eyes he has to bury his face against your chest just to hide the creeping heat on his cheeks, content enough to turn his attention to your tits with one getting palmed by his hand, and the other receiving his mouths tender treatment. Surely you won't complain about his cowardly hiding if he were to devote more time to pleasing you, right? Lapping at your nipple like a kitten, savouring every sigh, hiccup, and moan you make while he busies himself with indulging in your taste. Worshipping every inch of you as he shuffles his body closer between your legs, gasping into the feeling of his rock hard cock rubbing against his underwear which rests heavy at your cunt. Not that he has any intention of doing anything about it, because loving and doting on you is pleasurable enough for him, slurping and sucking and pinching as a means to communicate: I'm sorry, let me make it up to you.

Because he's never really been the best with words, opting instead to pop off of your pretty tits with a loud smack! only so that he can see how cute your expression gets when you feel his hand travel further south, ghosting over your skin just to have you shiver into him, make you feel as good as you've treated him, yeah?

"Dunno what I'd do without you," He sighs, almost whispering from how sincere his words are. "Wanna show you how much y'mean to me. S'at okay?"

Instinct begs him to attach slut on the end of his question, but your wide eyes and rushed gasp in shock of how soft he's being convinces him not to.

You take a moment to reply, and in the meantime he takes to running a single finger up and down your already sopping slit. Proof enough of how much you love him, and yet still he feels the need to earn your affections again and again, sorry remaining at the tip of his tongue regardless of how often you remind him it's okay.

But when you give him a sure nod he's immediately filled with boyish confidence, determined to prove his worth for as long as he needs to in order to properly apologise to you, and then to revere you as you rightfully deserve. He knows he's got his work cut out for him, but he's nothing if not stubborn when it comes to you, for better or for worse.

"Thank you." He whispers this time, finally allowing his fingers to stretch your folds open for him to gawk at. Hearts in his eyes and all, fuuuuck, he has to fight with himself not to tug his boxers down and just shove his cock in right there and then— because he's meant to be worshipping you. But you make it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything other than how fraught with sheer desperation he is for you, distracting himself from his more indulgent thoughts by thumbing at your clit, clenching his teeth at the sweet little sounds his fingers touch out of you. Reaaaally taking his time, perhaps a bit too much so when your lower half wiggles under his thumb. Inwardly, he laughs at his previous words of patience; don't you know that he's trying to love on you?

"Need it that much, huh?" He gently taunts, though there's no malice in his words. Just amused domesticity, a certain warmth to his tone borne out of complete admiration for how... Well, if he's honest with himself, how perfect you are— in every respect! Every fibre of his being just begging to be allowed to worship you for the rest of his life, to have you see yourself the way he sees you.

You once again nod up at him, pretty pleading eyes coaxing him to fall further into you, to rub meaner circles against your puffy little clit like he's done plenty times before; except you're asking for it now. And there's no greater feeling in the world than to have his prayers answered as your slick coats his fingers in anticipation for his praises.

"All right then, pretty girl. Ask and you shall receive."

And true to his words, he slides his fingers down your slit and dips into your cunt. Just a little, and only one finger. The lazy pace of his actions frustrating even him, but he knows it'll all be worth it. Has to be, especially when you're huffing so cutely back at him given all his teasing thus far, jus' a little more he promises you, unsure if he's even telling the truth when you mewl all pretty and shit— God you're gonna be the death of him. Torn between teasing you all night, prolonging his prayers until the sun comes up, or giving you the release you're so desperately seeking, every squeak of the bed below your movements hypnotising him further. All he wants to do is make you feel good, praise your body to the high heavens, kiss every single inch of your skin and whisper sweet nothings against your cunt. A simple ask, really, considering you're more than wanting him to do exactly that.

So he follows through, lazily pushing a single finger inside of your warm little hole and he practically melts himself from the heat wrapped around his digit. How soft and fuckin' tight your little cunt is around him, the slow nature of his loving tonight allowing him to experience you in a whole new way; something more akin to appreciation, rather than the days of greed in the past.

"Feel okay?" He checks in with you, though there's really no need. He can tell from a mile away that your scrunched up little nose means you're having fun, but it's nice to ask anyway. If only to boost his own ego, or to show that he's serious about changing for you. "You feel— I mean, fuck. Always feel amazing," He swiftly corrects himself, chewing on his bottom lip out of habit while curling his finger inside of you, gently pulling it out and pushing back in— a slow enough pace to give you a little relief whilst also keeping you on that edge he'd like you to be at. "Always have, best cunt I've ever fucked." He's being sincere, but he cringes at the crass way his praise comes out anyway. That is until he takes a look at your face, peeling his gaze off of your finger swallowing hole for just a moment, and he bares witness to the lewd look you've now adopted.

Fuckin' praise slut, he should have known it all along, but having confirmation in the form of your rolled back eyes from a single fucking finger was worth the wait. You're worth the wait, and he can only hope that he is too when he picks up the pace. Just a little, encouraging you to writhe around a bit more, cooing down at you so sweetly in stark contrast to his usual self.

"Look so pretty like that," the finger inside of you buries deeper, curling consistently against your sweet spot until you're practically clawing at his wrist for some respite— but it doesn't come. Not out of spite, but out of love for you, he continues crooking his fingers against your squishy insides because he knows what that whine means. Gushy little cunt wrapped so tight around his finger, sucking him further in despite your desperate whines for a break. All he does is hush you tenderly, tongue between his teeth in fear of snapping and reverting back to his old manners when you look so fucking perfect with his finger inside of you, his eyes flickering between your pretty face, heaving tits, and your shiny with slick cunt.

"C'mon—" He seethes, brows furrowed in concentration of praising you, getting you off on his hand would be the highest compliment, he thinks. "Let me make you feel good, jus' give in, 'kay? He encourages, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips when your mouth falls open in a silent gasp.

Got you, he thinks to himself. Cock twitching merely from getting you off, from making you moan his name all high pitched and pretty like that while you gush around his finger, soaking through to the bed sheets below when he starts finger fucking you again to help you ride your orgasm out nicely. And the whole time he's thanking you. Softly rubbing up and down your side, occasionally groping at your tits, tugging at your ass while your insides convulse around him. Thank you, he sighs. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for sticking with me."

"Thank you for letting me see you like this."

"Thank you for believing in me."

"Thank you for cumming on my hand."

And even as he removes himself from you he's still worshipping you, practically eye fucking you as he shifts his weight down, ending up half laying on the edge of the bed to tug you closer, hands firmly wrapped around your thighs so he can sniff up and down your slick soaked slit. Vulgar as always, but it doesn't matter when he's so pussy whipped it's almost laughable, right? Maybe he should feel ashamed about how much he wants you, embarrassingly acting like a dumb dog when faces with your cunt like this— salivating from your scent alone. But upon sticking his tongue out flat against your slit to lap up all your sweet juices he figures it doesn't really matter. It couldn't matter when you taste this fucking good, cock leaking fat globs of precum from just a single suck of your clit. He quickly runs a hand through his hair, flipping his fringe up and out of the way for easier access to your sweet soaked cunt, he's serious about this, don't you know?

"Jus' cleanin' y'up." He slurs against your hole, wincing with you when you complain about how sensitive you are.

But that's okay, because if you cum on his tongue (which he's hoping for, fuck he wants you to gush in his mouth please—) then he'll just help you clean up again. And again. And again. As many times as he needs to until you instinctively know how worthy you are of worship, and how he loves you just oh so much.

#500 event! #i hate that this is technically an “aged up” writing but yknow #HES ALREADY AN ADULT ITS OK #dol smut #whitney the bully #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

[fabuloustrash05]

Some of My TMNT Hot Takes (PART 2) 🔥

Warning: More Opinions

Part 1 Here

I don’t like that in Mutant Mayhem Donnie is not a “science guy” but instead is more of an anime and pop culture geek. I’m not against him being an anime fan (I love anime too) but I wish we saw more of his science and being a tech genius side instead of him just liking stereotypical “nerdy stuff”. If that makes sense.

I don’t like the Punk Frogs (any version).

The 87 crossover episodes in the 2012 series (as much as I did enjoy them & are great episodes) should not have happened. They leave no real impact or development to 2012’s overarching story and just waste time. These episodes could’ve covered more important things that 202 was desperately lacking like like character exploration and character dynamic development. It was just nostalgic fanservice. The arc in S5 specifically would’ve work better as a movie instead of a 3-4 episode arc in the (most likely non canon) final season.

Shinigami being Mikey’s second love interests ruins her character a bit (for me personally). That was a pointless decision that did NOT need to happen. She would’ve been our first recurring female character to not be a love interest, but nope!

People are allowed to like/ship Donnie x April in ROTTMNT (this is coming from someone who’s not crazy about April being shipped with the Turtles).

I ship Yuichi with 2012 Leo more than Rise Leo (still ship Rise Leoichi, but I just think 2012 Leoichi is way more interesting, plus 2012 Leo deserves a good love interest).

The humans in Mutant Mayhem look ugly af (I know that was probably an intentional design choice but still. It looks bad.)

I hate Raph x Casey (any ver). I’ve stated in part one that I don’t like Raph (any version) being in a romantic relationship with human characters and yes, that meant him with Casey. Not only that but Raph and Casey being a couple ruins their whole dynamic and iconic friendship I love so much. I’m all for friends to lovers but they are a line that should not be crossed. Not every friendship needs to turn romantic.

2012 Karai’s hair looks bad.

Fans often over exaggerate Rise Donnie’s character and badly mischaracterize him in fanfics and fan comics to the point it makes him feel like he’s an entirely different character.

Shinigami should have been revealed to be a villain.

Rise Donnie was just as mean to his brother as fans claim 2012 Raph was to his. Yes, they both do love their families and I’m NOT saying either of them are abus!ce (they’re not), but fans praising Rise Donnie for doing similar things fans criticize/hate 2012 Raph for doing just makes them hypocrites.

Venus does NOT need to be in every iteration of TMNT. It gets kind of annoying when fans keep on saying that she should be in all the other iterations when in truth her presence would not make sense based on the already established canon story. The only (recent) version of TMNT where I think her being included would’ve fit the best and deserved to make her comeback in is ROTTMNT.

The side plot of 2012 Karai being mutated and later getting brainwashed by Shredder was a waste of time and the most boring arc in the series.

2012 April, Donnie and Casey being in a poly relationship does not fix anything with their problematic dynamic and massive flaws with one another. I'm not saying you can't ship all three of them together, you do you! Idc But in reality their relationship would be a train wreck, that's why I personally don't ship 2012 Capriltello.

Renet is probably one of the most powerful allies the Turtles have in the 2012 series.

Rise Donnie would NOT hate 2012 April. He’d go crazy over her psychic powers and want to study them to help her explore them more.

From what I've seen so far, Leo x Usagi seems like the only GOOD ship in the 2003 series (this hot take might change tho).

Raph had the best character arc and development in the 2012 series and changed the most out of the four brothers. Next would be Leo. With Mikey and Donnie have little development (or none at all sadly).

#hot take #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #mutant mayhem #tmntmm #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #april o'neil #casey jones #tmnt karai #tmnt shinigami #renet tilley #venus de milo #yuichi usagi #usagi miyamoto

[alostlittleriverlotus]

Oh yeah make sure neglected people get love until that neglected person is a fucking narcissist. Cause all narcissists are bad. Everything I do is intentionally manipulative or maybe they'll say I'm not actually a narcissist and are just confused or supporting them cause I've been made to feel guilty. I've been on both sides. People will believe I'm a narcissist and so therefore I'm abusive or people will not believe I'm a narcissist cause I'm too nice and just getting caught up in narcissists manipulating me to support them.

I hate the idea that my self image is not by my choice. I will always be what OTHERS perceive me as. I have always been that and it will continue to be that. People will either see someone that can't do any wrong or someone that can only do wrong. Like stfu I am a person! I can do good and bad! I have a past of being toxic and harmful esp as a teenager cause I was a fucking mentally fucked teen still in an abusive situation.

I just. I dunno. Im waiting on food so I'm very like just ranty about everything and anything. But like. Stfu. Stfu stfu stfu stfu stfu. If anyone else is needy and needs attention or reassurance then it's fine. But I have had it demonized since my fucking childhood and had my fucking meltdowns demonized as being intentionally manipulative!!! I WAS A FIVE YEAR OLD AUTISTIC CHILD STFU!!!!!

And people praising empathy as being good piss me off. Cause you know what else can also have hypoempathy? AUTISM. Low empathy is not just an "evil" personality disorder thing. Anyone can be anywhere on the scale of empathy. And it doesn't fucking matter. And anyone can be capable of good or bad. It has literally nothing to do with narcissism or any disorder.

Like wtf are anti narcissists gonna fucking do when they realize theyve done harm??? Cause you know what being someone believing in narc abuse did to me?! It made me believe that i was justified as a victim of narcissists so therefore I couldn't be wrong in my trauma responses.

Yeah. Accepting im a narcissist did way more for helping my relationships by allowing me to understand and communicate my needs than believing in narc abuse and calling my parents narcissists ever fucking did. Wtf are they gonna do when they're told about the harm they've done??? Not even related to narc abuse. I would have horrible episodes and defended myself cause I wasn't like my abusive "narcissistic" parents. And all it did was lead to more fights and more episodes and my friend couldn't help cause they were dealing with trauma responses too (people pleasing, believing it was okay what I did or that she deserved it even when I told her not to say or believe that, it's a very lengthy explanation required thing.)

Anyone and everyone is capable of good and bad and is capable of harming others. Whether it's full on abuse, even worse things, or just being insensitive and thoughtless. Focusing so much on the big bad narcissists will only continue to focus on this "us vs them" mentality that completely negates any sort of nuance and ignores the fact that harmful people, abusers, and even the worst of humanity is ALLOWED by society. It isn't a prevalence of narcissists, it is fucking bigotry. And it is everywhere. And it allows abuse to be normalized.

Big list of things I been thinking on. Fuck fuck fuck. I'm already fucking stressed and my parents won't stfu so I can think and type. Disorganized speech, semiverbal, can't thinky think.

#actually narcissistic #actually traumatized #narcissistic #narcissism #surviving narcissism #narcissistic abuse #narcissistic personality disorder #ableism #npd stigma #narc abuse isn't real #narc abuse #cluster b safe #rant #semiverbal #disorganized speech #actually autistic

[writingjourney]

Hi, ibi! Just a self-indulgent suggestion if you don't mind it

I popped my hip on choreography classes when I was a child (my teacher forced me down to quick in the ground while I was doing a central split). And usually it doesn't disturb me and my leg functions with ease, but today I have bothered it so much, walking a lot at work and after working hours that now my whole leg is trying to kill me, especially my hip and ankle 😔

I am sure all of the Papas will try to take care of their s/o with the same problem even thought they are busy with their "papal duties" whatever they are (yes this is self-indulgent but I think today I deserve it lol)

Oh damn, I'm sorry you're in pain! I hope it's a bit better today? ♡

I think the Papas would love to pamper you. Usually it's you who rubs their little aches away and massages the tightness from their muscles so they would be eager to return the favour. No Papal duty is more important than their amore!

You know Primo has some ointment he mixed together that he applies which doesn't just soothe the pain but also smells nice. His fingers might not be the most nimble anymore but they're still strong and firm enough to help your leg. Secondo too is an amazing masseur, he probably took a massage course at some point in his life to make sure he does it right when with his lovers (he has a strong grip) and he's even more happy to finally have a steady partner he can pamper with said knowledge.

I think Terzo too is very good at massages since he seems the type of man who truly wants to pamper his lovers and lavish them with attention. He will dedicate some time to soothe your leg while whispering compliments and praises and perhaps you can relax in his arms for the remainder of the day. Copia I think would order a restful evening with your leg propped up and a movie on while he makes sure you DO NOT MOVE as he takes care of dinner, cleaning your quarters and ultimately joining you to cuddle the pain away.

#asks #i love the papas being caring with their lovers ♡ #i hope you feel better!!!

[hwangyeddeongie]

hihi 🙋‍♀️

idk y but i can’t stop thinking about sub yeji w a mommy kink 😵‍💫😵‍💫 like, imagine her whining in ur ear while grinding on ur lap or ur fingers 😻 letting out the LOUDESTT moans n whimpers ever when u pound ur gp/strap into her :3333333

anyways tysm if u do this I LOVE YOUR WORKS n hope u have a nice day 🥰

hi anon! I don’t know if you meant yeji liking being called mommy or her calling reader mommy but hope you enjoy! also thank you so much :)

CW: smut. Men and minors DNI

sub!mommy!yeji x fem!reader

“Fuck,” Yeji gasps as your hips roll up into hers, your strap digging deep and hitting that spot inside of her. She’s on top of you, straddling your lap as you lean back on the headboard.

She rocks back and forth, bouncing a little, and she bites her lip as she looks at you with hooded eyes. The way her pupils are dilated and dark makes you shiver.

“Just like that, baby,” she moans when you grab her hips and pull her down in time with a thrust up. “You make mommy feel so good.”

She leans down to capture your lips and cups your breast in her palm, making you let out a startled moan. She peppers kisses from your jaw to your collarbones, and you sigh, threading your fingers in her hair.

“Mommy,” you groan when her fingers reach down to circle your clit.

“Good girl,” she says, and your skin pebbles at the praise. “You’re fucking mommy so well, you know that? Gonna make mommy cum?”

You nod, but that’s not enough for her. She tugs at your nipple harshly, making you yelp.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, mommy. Wanna make you cum.” You pick up the pace, lifting her up and slamming her down on your strap.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head as you pound into her, and her mouth falls open, jaw slack, letting you hear the pretty noises that leave her lips.

“Shit, baby,” she whimpers when you chance a particularly hard thrust deep inside her.

“You look so pretty on top of me, mommy,” you say, rubbing circles into her hips. Yeji’s bracing herself with a hand on the headboard as you speed up even more, and she gets progressively louder.

“Ah—fuck!” She throws her head back, exposing her neck, which you immediately attach your lips to. She interlaces her free hand with one of yours that’s on her hip as you suck a hickey to the base of her throat. “Baby-”

She’s too far gone, and you know it, know the signs too well: the sweat pooling on her forehead, her knitted brows and shut eyes, her flushed cheeks, the increasingly loud and incoherent moans, the way her knuckles turn white as they grip onto the headboard.

“You’re gonna make mommy cum all over your strap,” she whimpers breathlessly. “Oh my god, baby, fuck—I’m gonna—”

She arches into the hand you’ve placed on her back when she cums, and you keep moving at a steady rhythm to help her ride out her high. She rolls her hips at the same time and gradually slows to a stop, her face pressed into your neck as she pants.

Your fingers trail up and down her back in an attempt to ground her, and she sighs, kissing your jaw.

“Good—good girl,” she says, catching her breath still.

“Always for you, mommy,” you smile and kiss her lips. Her eyes darken again.

“Lay back, sweetheart. I think you deserve to cum on mommy’s tongue.”

#itzy #yeji #itzy imagines #itzy smut #itzy x reader #yeji imagines #yeji x fem reader #yeji x reader #mommy k!nk #sub reader #anonymous ask

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

#liv in the replies #patrice bergeron #boston bruins #brad marchand #do you ever think about how brad marchand said that when bergy retired he would retire or are you capable of normal thought i'm not at all #please say a gratitude for both my sanity& y'all that this poem (which has been saved in my camera roll with the vague idea of using it for #??? ​long) & not one of the poems i had saved for carey for a really long time & remixed & everything with another poem until i found a poem #that absolutely murdered me in cold blood but there is an alternate universe where i did& then had to explain my unhinged thoughts to you. #anyway how are we feeling about bergy retirement. pspspspsp sara & luna are y'all doing okay like. the doc title for this one was #patrice the hockey player means a lot to me but patrice the person means so much more #which is why the end line of the other poem was so *%"@^)! (you love / what you are) because patrice does. like he is a whole ass good huma #& now since no one asked i need to tell you all the details about everything also y'all please clap i made an edit with NO baby pictures #although i did find one & save it & minimal genres of photo i always use in edits because they're my taste & aesthetic but anyway. #when i saved the first photo and marked it as one i wanted i accidentally wrote “how will he know they love him” which is not the line but #makes me feel feral about patrice & the rest of them all had hurtful names too but also. the third picture is literally a CELLY like brad #just scored a goal & he is clinging to bergy for dear life with that shit i saved that as “oh the agony on his face for unendurable” #& yes it is one of my cliches to have a draft day picture but in my defense the lifelong bond that patrice has/d with boston deserved to be #there even if i put in the love story & YES that picture is from the 2011 playoff right below it shared joy & pain & i couldn't tell you #when the brad marchy photo for together forever is except for the fact that i saw it & just the gut punch of oh my god the way he looks at #things men will praise you for is the stanley cup. duh. but i love the contrast of “some deed” being the stanley cup but then #bergy's choice to do noble deeds (ends up still earning praise &that's my note to his efforts outside of hockey we love a supportive captai #should also mention the first two i came up with & had the photos i knew i wanted for were the first and last one alskaldk but i KNEW i #wanted chara somewhere in the paragraph about leaving & then while i was looking found the one of bergy playing tuukka on accident & yes #i do have to make goalie jokes every time. no reprieve . no dice/no deal/no goal goalies have no rest/reprieve etc etc the one that killed #me though was looking for a patrice award pic & i wanted basically the one that i got for “how will you know any will praise you” & instead #also got the picture of patrice winning the some community hero award for charity work that he does & i love him mama & of COURSE that puck #is from bergy's 1000 game who do you think I am (if you guessed sleepy and emotional about patrice you'd be right) and ALSO please be ready #for all the patrice posts/bruins posts that have been sitting in my drafts to be released on this occasion of patrice retirement #I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT TUUKKA ALSO RETIRED THAT’S WHY HE WAS ON WISE OR SIMPLE NO REPRIEVE AND THAT LATE OR SOON WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE #CHARA BECAUSE CHARA LEFT FIRST TO GO TO THE CAPS AND THEN LEFT IN RETIRMENT HE LEFT SOON BUT NOT FOR REAL THEN LATER LEFT FOR REAL (RETIRED)

[curseofpower]

"It'd be super interesting to hear these counterarguments 👀."

@goopi-e Well let's see… where should I start? The mass assumption that Ganondorf just sort of left his kingdom for dead and stayed holed up in Hyrule Castle for seven entire years, (lolwut???) no longer caring about his fellow gerudos or even letting them know what the hell was going on?

Or something else? Maybe something a little dicier? Like the existence of gibdos? Or the fact he didn't save Nabooru after his moms decided her punishment? ... That last one might be a little self explanatory, though, if you understand his mindset.

Ganondorf is a man with a very strong sense of justice and a very skewed sense of morality. I think it's actually because he cared that he'd ever punish or let his people be punished like she was. Twinrova were his mothers too, so, it's likely he trusted their judgement more than anyone else's. A lower ranking pair of gerudo might not have gotten away with dealing justice in his name like that.

But I digress. I know I have to be missing something. I'm just very tired today and have a lot on my mind. Do feel free to let me know, though, if any of that interests you or if there's another thing I forgot to address that you want me to go into.

#q&a #personal hc #thank you for showing interest though. I sometimes feel like my ideas and opinions do little but make me a pariah. #haha... I say 'sometimes' like it's not actually 'always' #anyway when you factor in the fact Ganondorf can teleport/see and speak over long distances the whole 'leaving his people for dead' thing #becomes even MORE ridiculous. Like... come on people. Use your noggin. WHY would they worship someone who abandoned them for seven years??? #Especially when it was clear they had a lot of conflict with the Hylians during those years. but that's just my 2 cents. #And yes I'm aware there was a small group that were likely either anti war or pro hylian and those are who we see at the end credits of OoT #But with any group of people with strong opinions there will always be some with opposing views so I do not take that as a significant #sign of 'abandonment'. if he truly had abandoned them we would have actually heard about it. #(The fact the end-credit gerudos were all wearing white too denotes to me some kind of shared relation or belief system between them.) #Instead we hear them sing his praises and even gossip stones will tell you how much the gerudos love their king. #All of which I think deserves more attention than we give it credit for. #He wasn't just a hero to his people in totk he was that and MORE to them in OoT. #ANYWAYS I'M DONE WITH MY TAG NOVEL. #*SLAMS BEER ON TABLE* *IT TIPS OVER AND SPILLS EVERYWHERE* #BYE

[leafy-m]

alizayd for character opinion bingo 🧍🏽‍♀️

Thank you! 💖

Alizayd al Qahtani is the fucking best. There is no contest. He's empathetic, he's a sass machine, he's got a backbone made of righteous steel, he's a nerd raised to be a jock and was the best zulfiqari of his generation through sheer determination. He's the smartest (and tallest) man in the room that loves to help people and is also an oblivious social loser. He's a math genius and an economic wizard that outsmarted the Royal Treasury's best accountants as a teenager to secretly fund and make the Tanzeem's illegal transactions untraceable, and *During a Recession* got a millennia-old decrepit hospital to be completely rebuilt and functional in like 6 months. He also actually listens to people, and did possibly the most romantic thing in the series by building Nahri her private Cairo-themed office. He's self-sacrificing and self-denying to a fault and all he wants to do is fix things (and swim, and read), and he perfectly fits into soldier life and civilian life.

My man has the best character arc of the trilogy as he learns and grows past his early prejudice and indecision while sharpening his best traits. He is constantly reevaluating himself and his actions while still holding on to what matters to him, like his faith and his idealism that Daevabad can be improved. Even in the depths of his bitterness or grief, he always returns to trying to do the right thing, and not holding unrelated people responsible for the actions of others. He has the best motivational speeches in the series. His great grandpa is a crocodile and their scenes together are hilarious.

My man Alizayd has some Lord of the Rings: Return of the King-level epicness, in how he is descended from both Zaydi al Qahtani and the marid-blessed Armah. Zaydi, who rallied the djinn world against the genocidal Nahids and overthrew them to take Daevabad 1400 years earlier; and his ally Armah who commanded the marid to help take the city and Suleiman's Ring, and made the ultimate sacrifice by staying allied with the djinn. Ali is constantly compared to Zaydi in City of Brass and Kingdom of Copper, but there's this steady transfer of similarities to Armah in Kingdom of Copper and Empire of Gold, until Ali is truly representing both sides combined as he aids Nahri and a global army that he put together in three days to once again take back Daevabad from a genocidal Nahid. The man is a fucking legend, and with any other author or director it would unquestionably be at the forefront of the story. Instead it hides in background details foe readers to piece together, like it's barely worth mentioning.

This is because my man Ali also has the self-confidence/self-esteem of a shy beetle hiding six feet under the earth, and the author's subtle/vague writing style and inability to stand up for what she's trying to say when people misunderstand has created... how do I word this... A lot of wiggle room for bullshit?

Ali gets dragged a lot for being self-righteous and a fanatic, because characters that are threatened by him in the book call him that, and readers parrot it without any consideration or critical thought. Is it self-righteous to be against slavery? Or to create personal boundaries regarding drinking and premarital sex? Is it fanaticism when he argues against corruption, or practices his religion *in a completely normal way?* I dare say no! But Ali is both black and muslim, so he gets a shit load of shit from every corner, and with the author unable to really clear things up and too cowardly to even admit that Ali is her favorite character without immediately asking everyone to forget she said that (Oops. Also: no), it makes me very, very concerned for whoever ends up playing Ali in the Netflix show. Because if past is any pretext, he's definitely not gonna get paid enough for all the harassment he'll face. And if the author can't stand up for her characters and book themes now, how will she do it when the audience is much, much bigger and louder? :/

As much as I love Ali and his countless parallels with Nahri, and have a thousand headcanons for him (and a thousand fic & art ideas/wips), the series itself (or rather how it undid all its narrative themes in the end to appease loud fans who never understood what the series was trying to say in the first place, along with the author's blindspots regarding the Nahids/Daevas), has made me incredibly bitter. 🙃 I am someone who worships canon encyclopedically and remembers everything, and have come to the unfortunate realization that I cannot in good health ever read this series again.

So my beloved blorbo Ali exists for me in a weird dimension that I cannot really interact with anymore. Made worse because I still desperately want to see fandom stuff, but then also viciously tear apart everything I find. 💀

Idk how to end this. Thanks for the ask! ☺️

#The stupid thing is that I'm still trying to finish my fics #Because I LOVED writing Nahri and Ali???? #Like yes my god he deserved better; but when they worked it was So Good 😭💖 #And I feel guilty because We Fucking Won in River of Silver and I still can't get past my bitterness #Doesn't help that the final story is a time paradox and proves that no one on Team Daevabad is doing any due diligence with fact checking #Don't even get me started on the changes to the Gazebo scene -- I'm still mad about how she watered down his lines #I literally cannot think about this series without ranting #Even the good parts just remind me of how it gets fucked up later #And most people don't even notice??? All the praise I see makes me feel insane #And all the Dara fans and other readers completely misunderstanding the series makes me insane #I've never seen a series ask its readers to remember so many details and nuances; and then Get Worse the more you understand! #And not in the 'oh its so much more tragic' sense; but literally 'they stopped fact checking things' sense #It's a series that runs on vibes but is also completely against the vibes its sending out #Fuck I wish I could quit this series 😭 #How do other fandoms manage this kind of bullshit omg #Hhhh #Ok I'm done #Alizayd al Qahtani #The Daevabad Trilogy #Long post #My posts

[tadpal]

mansfield park is so desperately frustrating to read bc i CARE SO MUCH about fanny and the entire thing is just people taking advantage of her and her being too timid and too self conscious to ask for or refuse anything for herself and it just makes me miserable.

#edmundcore of me i suppose. i am snatching her away from all the crawfords and bertrams and i am holding her #SHES ONLY 18!!! and shes so convinced that no one should ever notice her and thay she deserves nothing its so sad #the things she praises edmund for.... especially at the start of the book... girl you deserve so much more...... #its crazy. are fanny and catherine (northanger abbey) the same age? #thats my next one to read i think. im finishing mansfield tonight #i might do sense and sensibility next tho as its+mansfield are my least favourite so i might save northanger.. #im not sure ill read p&p ive read it so often when i was young idk i dont want to end on it i think ik it too well #but maybe ill end on persuasion again. i do love persuasion dearly

[shawnsprincesse]

.

#okay im gonna be super fucking honest but i hate when i see some writers on here get recommended and get praise and anons and all that good #shit on my dash while i seriously get NOTHING like im rarely someones fav writer or recommended in fic recs or someone who received multiple #anons or praise or reblogs on their writing and im not saying my work is better than anyone elses but it makes me SAD when i see someone who #wrote a 400 word blurb get more reblogs/praise than me on my 11k fic that i worked on for hours like i know its all free will and i know i #write for myself and nobody else but i just PERSONALLY feel like i deserve more recognition and i dont think thats selfish or too much to #ask for you know like there are so many writers on here and so much competition and sometimes i just feel like i deserve better ya know #maybe its just me who constantly feels this way or maybe im not as good as i think i am #or maybe i just happen to have bad luck when it comes to notes/interaction but whatever it just grinds my gears #most of my followers are blank incognito accounts and i just feel like the least they could do is acknowledge my work in some way

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 02. Whitney (Stuck & Watersports)

Pairing: Whitney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,747 Warnings: watersports, piss, male squirting, creampie, exhibitionism, stuck trope Prompt(s): 08 — stuck + 17 — watersports Wanna take part in the event?: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: i think from now on i'll include the prompts in the title too just because thinking of titles is hard and this makes it easy to know the contents at a glance lmao. anyway. YAYYY ANOTHER WHITNEY PROMPT. i love my boy so much thank you for this blessing of being allowed to write for him <3

and i was so excited about this one specifically because YOU KNOW ME SO WELL BESTIE AHHH. thank you for allowing me to indulge in smth so nasty hehe <3

Despite showcasing time and time again his proclivity for cruelty, he's once again faced with the inevitable sight of your backside— God knows what your front is facing, probably just some dirt, but he can't find it within himself to care all too much when your ass shakes from side to side in your pathetic attempts to free yourself. Down on the ground where you belong, you're real cute, y'know that? Like a spell on him, he watches. He can almost convince himself that you meant to get caught, only because you look so pretty under him like this. His eyes narrow in on the way your skirt inches further up your waist with every accidental tug against the jagged fence holding you down, the little yelps you let out when metal scratches against your skin sends shivers down to his cock.

Of which is hard, unsurprisingly. The filthy degenerate he knows he is, of course he's hard when you're bent over and defenceless— it's how he likes you best. Just a dumb little girl looking for any excuse to get fucked, is that it?

"Need help?" He asks rhetorically, because it's rather clear that you do, in fact, need some help. All the wiggling around your doing is only helping you undress, and he's sure that's not what your main goal is. But far be it for him to complain when you're offering yourself up to him on a silver platter, intentionally or not. Like the pleasure-seeker he is, he leans into his more hedonistic ways and pinches at your thighs. Just because he can. Because he wants to hear you pout.

"Duh." You respond with another shake of your hips, a useless attempt to swat his prying hands away, and he immediately tuts at the attitude you've adopted.

His gaze zeros in on your ass, squatting down behind you only to flip your skirt up the rest of the way, sucking on his teeth sharply at the sight of your cute panties. Good girl, he thinks to himself. But he'd rather die than say his praise out loud. No, no, dumb sluts like you don't deserve praise for getting themselves in such obviously bad situations, do they?

He instinctively hooks a finger under your panties, knuckles brushing up against your pretty little slit before he pings the fabric back against your most sensitive parts. A sneaky smirk splayed on his lips when you yelp in return. "Is this helping?" He asks, unable to hide the smile in his words when he repeats the bullying action again, knowing that he's really only making your situation worse. Isn't that just so fun, though?

"Quit it! Whitneyyy—" You whine in annoyance, but his messed up mind easily recognises the high pitched tone as excitement. An undeniable thirst for more of his teasing, right? And you're in luck too, his cock twitching for attention in his pants; tenting in your direction. He'd only asked you to steal some cigarettes for him, and if you were determined enough to get free from the fence, he's sure you could in a heartbeat. Does that mean... You want him to tease you?

Surely, right? Slipping under the fence is easy enough, he's done it countless times before himself. Though, when cocking his head to the side to properly assess the situation, his palm coming down to lazily rub at his leaking tip over his clothes, he notices just how stuck you really are. How your clothes threaten to rip if you were to move too much in one direction, and he knows you haven't got enough money to replace another school shirt given that he ruined the last one. Filthy slut, this is your own fault.

"C'mon," He leers, shuffling to get his cock closer to you until it rubs against your ass all hot and heavy, a satisfied sigh escaping him when you gasp at the contact. You're so fucking hot it honestly annoys him, the way you're completely unaware of how inherently lewd your pretty little body is, beads of precum rolling down his length to stain his pants sheer. You'll have to clean them up later, preferably with your tongue. "I'll help ya out, but y'gotta pay up first."

It's clear what his intent is through how his rough hands find home on your hips, keeping himself stable from his squatting position just as much as he's trying to keep you pinned in place. A gentle rock of his hips forward against your clothed cunt and he's already reeling from how good it feels to be in control like this, nails digging into your soft skin as if he were mounting you like a dog.

"I— I mean, sure, fuck, whatever Whitney. Just help me before we get caught, okay?"

He muses about your usage of the word we, internally deciding that if anyone were to show up in the middle of his bullying, he'd simply act the fool to your thief ways. But nonetheless, he continues. He'd continue whether or not he had your consent, but it's easier when you're not fighting back.

Humping his cock against you always feels good, his attention drawn to the growing wet patch on your cute panties, and how his mouth salivates with a want to taste. He's not sure if it's from himself or your hole, but it's pretty to look at nonetheless. But he's meant to be a punishing you anyway, not indulging in his oral fixation. A reminder that he owns you, and that if you fuck up in his presence, you'll be swiftly reprimanded.

"So pretty," He hums to himself, a light heat rising to his cheeks at the recognition of his praise, biting down on his bottom lip out of embarrassment for a mere moment before correcting himself. "But so dumb." A laugh follows, crawled up his chest and forced out his dry throat.

He angles his cock down with his thumb, letting his hips rut against your hidden hole only a few times before impatience takes hold of him— and the fact that your hushed voice reminds him not to get caught. Not that it matters to him whether or not you get in trouble for stealing, it's just that he'd rather be the only one to see you so exposed and helpless like this. Possessively grabbing at your ass to spread your cheeks open, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull at the slight sight of your pretty holes.

Fuck it, he thinks. You rile him up so easily, and he hates himself for it. How the smallest glimpse of your asshole has his balls tightening, the mere thought of fucking your cute little cunt causes his muscles to tense in anticipation. So fucking annoying how just by existing you manage to coax him into further degeneracy, a little tempting wiggle of your ass being all he needs to quickly tug his bottoms down and shiver into the cold air that kisses his tip.

He better shove it in already to warm back up.

"Hurry up Whitney!" You whine, and the urgency in your meek voice causes a shiver to roll down his spine. "Are you trying to get us—"

Fuck, fucking shut up, a harsh pull of your panties later and he's shoving his cock inside of you with only his copious amount of precum and your meagre amount of slick for lube. The silent yelp he fucking knows you want to let out crawls under his skin, settles nice and thick in his tummy as he bullies his cock inside of you with quick snap thrusts. Only coating his length in as much lubrication as possible, a little pain is nice, but he isn't aiming to actually hurt you. Doesn't wanna damage his goods, yknow? So he continues the shallow thrusts until he can easily glide his cock all the way inside, balls deep in your pretty little hole with a soft pap!

But there's no time for him to allow you the chance at growing accustomed to his fat length, drawing his hips as far back as possible without actually pulling out, his drooling tip left inside your tight cunt for a single second before he buries himself back in, again and again, starting out with such an unfair pace that it even leaves himself breathless from how good it feels, how your walls squeeze around him that bit tighter given his rough treatment, rushed huffs of air filling his ears as he humps into you from behind.

"Tryin' to—" He chokes on his words, drooling precum all over your warm insides with every greedy thrust of his cock, in love with how you're unable to do anything but sit there and fucking take it, God, he could cum on the spot if he thought about it for too long. The view of your arched back, gaze flitting to the way your hands dig into the dirt below as if it'd give you any semblance of stability when he's pounding you so hard your ass smacks back against his hips. "Tryin' to get us caught?" He barks laughter down at you, though is quickly humbled when your walls squeeze around him again, cunt sucking his cock off so well, fuck, like you're begging for him to fuck deeper. And he's all to eager to give you exasctly what your body is asking for, throwing his weight behind every fuck forward and pulling your ass back down against his cock. "Maybe— Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? Fuckin' slut."

It's as if he's talking about himself though, feet firmly planted at either side of your knees, his hands sliding down the small of your back to hold onto your waist securely, pumping his cock into you from the dog mating angle he knows you like. Such a nasty girl, aren't you? Need him to breed your little angel cunt? It's what she deserves, isn't it, for making him feel so heavenly.

His upper body follows every thrust, causing him to practically rest on top of you as much as he can, the metal from the fence digging into his skin with every loud smack of his hips against your ass, every wet squelch of your hole being forced to accept his fat cock.

But he can't deny how obviously into getting caught he is too, the thought alone causing his cock to tremble inside of you with excitement. Look at her, this is my slut, hear how pretty she sounds when moaning my name like that? Deep seated primal instinct rumbling in his core when you whine and gasp for more, taking his cock so well that he's forced into huffing above you like he's in heat or something. It's gross, really, just how much he needs everyone to know how good you are for him, and only him. Obsessed with how your pretty cunt stretches to fit hit size, how he can feel every gush of slick from your abused hole drip down to his balls, God, how badly he wants to suck at your skin right now too. Taste every inch of your slut body as some form of thanks for letting him mistreat you like this. And for the way you like it too, soaking his thighs with your sweet slick he's hungry for.

He's soooo fucking into you it's honestly a little embarrassing, hoping to hump his affection for you away by stroking your insides exactly how he knows you like, and the fact that he knows you like it a certain way both turns him on more and frustrates him to no end. He's your bully for God's sake. But you're just so pretty like this, a messy little bitch in heat for his fat cock, keening into the ground below when he fucks his annoyances out in you with faster thrusts and a tighter grip on your waist. Turning you into a squeaky toy with the croaked moans his cock fucks outta you.

"Mine" He rasps against his better judgement. "Tell me, say that you're mine—" He ends up begging, enamoured with how quickly you answer his request with wanton whines and broken sobs of his name. An unfamiliar feeling soon establishing in his tummy, all tight and taut, threatening to snap any second as he continues to fuck through it. It feels similar enough for him to have an idea of what might be coming next, but he's too busy fucking into your slutty hole to fully register the consequences until they happen. And he's so close too, balls full and heavy of seed for his favourite girl, you've taken his perversion so well, you deserve a nice treat in the form of his load, don't you?

But what comes out isn't what he'd expected, a curt "Fuckin' close—" is all the warning he's able to give you before he's burying himself as deep as possible into you and sitting still. Only for a second or two, expecting ropes to shoot into your tiny cunt like always, but streams of yellow soon spurt out of your hole as he's forced into instinctively bucking into you again, sloppy fucks in and out of your stupid wet cunt as he experiences squirting for the first time in his life. Which is mortifying considering it's you that's gotten him to the point of squirting, but fuck if he doesn't feel so good, better than anything else— because he's effectively pissing inside of you right now, and knowing that he's dirtying you in such a disgusting way only prompts him into fucking with more intent, engaging his core in an attempt to relieve himself some more inside of his favourite slut.

"What— Feels weird, Whit—" You mumble, and he can't help but laugh. Still humping his piss back into your hole, the feeling of it sloshing around his cock with every thrust convincing him to continue. How disgusting, right? Downright deplorable the way he's using you right now, marking up your insides with the scent of his piss before his seed. He can only imagine your reaction to such awful news as he settles into a faster pace once more, determined to give you a load now that he's done taking a leak: gross. So fucking gross it ends up hot in his fucked up brain.

"Jus' sit there and be pretty, slut." He orders you, "That's all y'gotta do." And he's happy when you comply immediately given the edge in his voice. It's just that he's genuinely still so close to cumming, especially after such a vile display of affection, he only needs a few more thrusts before—

There we go, fully sheathed inside your piss soaked cunt for him to empty his balls into like he'd originally intended to. The innately crude nature of mixing his seed with piss has him rolling his hips into you regardless of his want to remain still, gently massaging your cunt walls with lazy fucks while he milks himself empty as some twisted sort of reward for something you've yet to learn about.

And it doesn't take him long to recover, never does. Pulling out swiftly only to cringe at the loss of warmth, and the view of the nasty mix of fluids dripping down your stained thighs. He'd better get you out of sight from prying eyes soon, determined to be the only one allowed to see you look so sullied like this from now on.

"C'mere," He gently tugs on your waist with one hand, the other pulling the scratchy wire up and away from your body to help ease you out of your stuck position. "Y'paid me more than I could ever ask for."

"What do you mean—"

"Jus' trust me, okay slut?" He'll keep it a secret for now. Try to use his new favourite toilet in future when you're similarly unaware, relieve himself in the best way possible in private. So hot just thinking about it, fuck— he might need to fuck you again on the way home. He'll even let you cum for the way you've accidentally accepted his newfound kink, brushing you off when you're free in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

And to keep your eyes from drifting between your legs, he places a chaste, but sweet, kiss to your forehead. "Thanks." is all he says before turning away to hide the predictable blush spreading on his cheeks.

#500 event! #mm yummy #i hope this is ok! #i have another whitney piss idea tbh HAHA #but i liked this one as a sort of first time introduction thing isk #idk* #whitney the bully #dol smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity smut #degrees of lewdity fanfic

[yandere-writer-momo]

The final part of Mommy! First part

Yandere Short Stories: Mommy

Delusional Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader x Platonic Yandere Son

Jesse wrapped his arms around (your name)‘s legs, the small boy hummed in contentment when she ran her fingers through his black curls. Why couldn’t she be his mom? She was so warm and gentle… so much better than the woman who gave birth to him.

“Jesse? I think your nanny is waiting to take you home.” (Your name) smiled down at Jesse who only burrowed himself further into her skirts. She sighed at how clingy the young boy was, but she was sympathetic to his feelings. Jesse didn’t have any warmth in his home so he sought it out from her.

“I don’t want to go home… can’t I stay with you?” Jesse glanced up at her with his blue puppy dog eyes, his lips in a pout. “Can’t you just adopt me, I’ll be good…”

“Jesse, I can’t adopt you.” (Your name) felt her heart clench when he started to cry. “Jesse-“

“But all the other kids have a mommy and I don’t! I want to be read stories and I want homemade lunches. I don’t want to be alone!” Jesse buried his face into (your name)’s skirts. His little hands clutched tightly onto the cotton fabric in a death grip. “I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be quiet and I won’t ask for much-“

(Your name)’s thumbs instantly brushed away the hot tears that dribbled down his soft cheeks to smooth the young boy. Her beautiful face now in a frown.

“Shh… you can come hang out with me when you’re lonely at school.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Jesse. She ran her fingers through his thick curls as he sniffled.

“R-really? You’ll let me spend time with you?” Jesse’s voice trembled as he tried to calm his tears. “Can I eat lunch with you everyday? I like when you cut the crust off my sandwiches…”

“Of course, Jesse.” (Your name) reassured Jesse, who buried his face in her skirts once more. This sweet boy… he deserved love.

Unbeknownst to (your name), Jesse had a wicked smile on his sweet face that was hidden in her skirts.

Jesse may have been the spit image of Liam, but he was still his birth mother’s son… and (your name) would be his mommy one way or another.

.

.

.

Jesse often hogged (your name)’s attention from the other children. He’d rush to her first whenever class would start or end to hug her, he’d raise his hand for every question so he could be praised, and he’d constantly ask for help.

Jesse was not liked by the other children but he didn’t care all that much about them.

Because Jesse wanted his mommy to only have eyes for him.

.

.

.

Liam felt nervous at the florist shop he was in. The various floral displays of affection made his stomach twist into a knot. He was so nervous… to buy apology flowers for his son’s teacher.

Liam ran a hand through his dark hair with a sigh. This was an incredibly frustrating experience for him since he’s never bought a gift for a woman before. Especially not one as lovely as (your name). Liam couldn’t get her angry expression out of his head… she haunted his dreams and lingered in the crannies in his mind.

She was an itch he couldn’t scratch and Liam disliked this alien feeling she brought out. Liam didn’t know why his heart pounded in his chest at the thought of her or why his cheeks heated up. It made him anxious.

“And what can I help you with today, sir?” The florist smiled warmly at Liam who nearly jumped out of his skin. Liam had been so lost in his thoughts, the florist had caught him off guard.

“I think I would like a bouquet of roses…” Liam’s forest green eyes glanced at the red roses in interest. “The reddest ones you have.”

(Your name) would look lovely in red… Liam couldn’t help the image of her in a red dress that surfaced in his mind. He didn’t quite understand his attraction toward her, but he hoped it would fade.

.

.

.

Liam stood before (your name) in her classroom, his cheeks rosy as he studied her expression. Her arms held the fragrant roses in confusion.

“Mister Isbert? There was no need to get me roses-“

“I’m sorry for making presumptions about your character. It was unjust of me.” Liam bowed to (your name) in apology. “Please forgive me-“

Liam gasped when she moved closer to him, which and whom snap his head up in attention. His forest green eyes wide when she gave him such a warm smile… he’s never seen a smile like that directed toward him in his entire life.

“It’s perfectly okay. I understand you may have been through some trauma but I assure you I’m not after those sorts of things with you.” (Your name) then turned her gaze toward Jesse who peaked around the corner of the classroom. It seemed the young boy was eager to enter. “I’m just concerned for Jesse is all-“

“I do not know how to be a good father…” Liam shyly admitted, his forest green eyes focused on her confused expression. “I have never been taught warmth.”

“Well I have no issue teaching you how to spend time with a child… if you’d like of course, mister Isbert.” (Your name) smiled at Liam whose cheeks went aflame.

“I’d love to…” Liam cleared his throat and gave (your name) a soft smile. “And please, call me Liam.”

The two adults smiled warmly at each other which made Jesse perk up from his spot. Maybe he’d get her to be his mommy after all…

.

.

.

(Your name) laughed when Liam tried to tie Jesse’s shoe laces. The businessman was clueless…

“Here, let me help.” (Your name) gently took the shoelaces from Liam and slowly tied them in front of him. “The dragon goes under the bridge, through the loop, and into the castle!”

Jesse giggled at the rhyme, his eyes sparkled at his dad. “See! Mommy knows how to tie shoes!”

Liam blushed in embarrassment when (your name) and Jesse shared a laugh. He never knew how simple this was… how a family should be.

“Why don’t we read a book together?”

Liam glanced over at (your name) while she picked out a fairy tale. A ray of sunlight hit her at the perfect angle that made her even more angelic.

Liam never knew someone could be so beautiful…

.

.

.

Weeks went by of Liam’s ‘lessons’ of fatherhood. The two adults would laugh together as (your name) tried to teach him how to be more affectionate with his son, unaware that the businessman started to be affectionate with her as well… Liam came to terms that he loved her.

Liam loved the young woman who was eager to help him mend his relationship with his son and teach him how to love. To not take out his trauma onto Jesse and to be more open to change.

Liam became a better person by being around (your name) and he had no interest in going back to the way his life was before he got to know her better. The two of them were truly a power couple! She’s shown him a new side of life he never knew existed… who knew Jesse would indirectly introduce Liam to his soulmate?

Liam blushed as he sat at his desk, his head filled with thoughts of (your name). The image of her holding Liam in her arms burned in his mind.

How could someone look so perfect holding his child?

Liam dug into his desk drawer and pulled out one of the many drawing Jesse had made of (your name) and him. The three of them as a happy family.

Liam lit up a cigar and took a deep inhale of the smoke. Yes… he’d ask her to be his wife. To be Jesse’s mom.

Liam held the picture close to his chest. He needed to tell her how he felt… of how he loved her.

.

.

.

Liam upped security around the school as usual since he dropped by for the lessons. Liam wanted to ensure this entire ordeal remained private, he had no desire to add more stress onto poor (your name)’s life… today, they were gong to become an official family.

Liam sighed dreamily as he thought of what was about to happen today. (Your name) would be so beautiful as his wife and future mother of more children. He wondered how many siblings Jesse would like? To add onto their perfect family.

“Is there something wrong, Liam?” Liam perked up when (your name) softly called his name, she was careful not to disturb the sleeping Jesse in her arms. “You’ve been lost in space for a while now.”

“Would you be interested in dating me?” Liam’s blunt question nearly made (your name) fall over in shock. Date him? Where on earth did he get the idea that she wanted that sort of relationship with him?

“I don’t think we should.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Liam who frowned at her gentle rejection. “You’re a CEO of a big corporation and I’m just a measly kindergarten teacher.”

“I could take care of you.” Liam whispered softly. “You’d never struggle financially and you could be with Jesse every day. Don’t you want Jesse to be happy?”

(Your name) glanced down at the young boy who remained asleep. She did care about Jesse… but not enough to date his father.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do that.” (Your name) sighed softly as she handed Jesse to Liam to take. “I hope you find someone on your level to be with, Liam.”

Liam could only sit on the floor in shock when she walked to her desk to gather her belongings. She didn’t want him? Why didn’t she want him?

Liam tried to speak but he couldn’t find the words to stop her. How could he tell her he’s never felt this way before? That he wanted her? That he-

“I love you!” (Your name) froze in the doorway when Liam blurted out his declaration of love.

“W-what-“ Liam scrambled to his feet to try to stand before her. His lithe body hovered over her like a shadow.

“I love you and I’ve never felt this way before… please give me a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Liam-“

“I won’t accept no as an answer.” Liam felt his stomach twist but he needed to get her to be his… he needed her. “I’ll ruin your life if you don’t accept my love. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want you.”

Jesse stirred awake in Liam’s arms, the young boy’s eyes wide at his father’s words. “Become Jesse’s mom. I’m serious about being with you.”

“I-“ (your name) was cut off by Jesse who excitedly reached for her.

“Mommy? You’ll be my mommy?!” Jesse began to cry when he hands grabbed hers. “Mommy. Mommy!”

“Yes, Jesse.�� Liam smiled down at Jesse as he pulled (your name) close. “Miss (last name) is going to be your mommy.”

“No-“ (your name) gasped when Liam suddenly bent down to kiss her which made Jesse smile brightly.

“We should head home, right?” Liam turned to Jesse who smiled brightly at his dad. “Like a happy family should.”

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere obsession #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere boy #yandere male #Yandere man #yandere dilf #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #older yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #delusional yandere #teacher reader #tw.kidnapping

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

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