Sir Pentious and Instinct Headcanons
Being a snake, Pentious has some unfortunate instincts that he cannot stop. When there are vermin of the rodent variety in the Hotel, he catches them with every intention of releasing them elsewhere, though he never gets that far.
He will eat them without thinking about it, his eyes go a bit wall-eyed and wide, and he just swallows them whole. He has done this to a number of lab rats/mice, as well, and he absolutely hates it. Baxter has gotten after him several times for eating their experiments.
Because it is something he cannot help and is not logical, he hates it when he gets that way. Though he is stubborn and still tries to keep lab rodents, he has not managed to fight his instincts even once.
33 notes
·
View notes
[ Closed EVENT Starter For @cakesandpotion ]
[ Valentino ]
"Hey--" He had to pause. He didn't want to use his usual trigger word for his smart house. Fuck Vox in the ear with something hard and sandpapery, "Hey Hellexa!"
Sluggish as it may have been, the house beeped its usual tone to tell him it was listening, and he grinned.
"Text Muñequita!" Another tone, "Come over, I'm so--"
Suddenly, his throaat seemed to close up around the words, and he gagged, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His cigarette fell to the epoxy floor and he stomped on it dramatically with one of his three-inch heels. Finally lurching over the side of the couch, he gasped for breath, his eyebrows furrowing.
"I-- I'm-- I want to--" He couldn't get it out. Every single time he tried to say anything... He was having some kind of allergic reaction.
"I want to see you. Please. I need my ray of sunshine." He finally finished, the overall text probably seeming odd when it was sent, "Send."
Fuck.
8 notes
·
View notes
[ @throughxthexmist || Continued From Here || Pocket ]
[ Nathan ]
Mimsy had told him he could snore like a freight train if he slept on his back, and it had him a little nervous. But... If Pocket was telling him such a thing, he did his best to believe him, embarrassed as he was about it.
“Yeah? Thanks.”
Watching the other take his meds on reminded Nathan that he did, indeed, have medication to take, and that he didn’t want to. Every single morning, he dreaded taking them, every single time he had to swallow them he hated it. It was hard for him to swallow in general, and the lack of proper chewing on his part probably didn’t help.
That had gotten better, however. It kept him out of a basement, at any rate.
“I usually take mine with juice.” Nathan informed easily, though he shrugged, “I hate taking them. The juice is better than water, at least it tastes good.”
Much as it didn’t seem to effect him, the ‘Love’ did make him blush a little, a smile on his lips.
3 notes
·
View notes
Saw this on Twitter (thankfully someone told me it was just a gag)
And aside from thinking "Well damn that's a horrible thing to do to a child", my first thought was, "So that's what Baby Hizashi was put in by his parents and caretakers so he wouldn't blow their eardrums out again. The muzzle treatment really did happen, huh?"
Hey, if I had to be cursed with the dark thoughts, then so do you.
26 notes
·
View notes
choking hazard
simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader
synopsis: you have a very special request for simon. he thinks you're insane.
wc: 1.3k
cw: afab!reader, choking, grinding, hotdogging, haphazard kink negotiation, thigh riding, playful name-calling, no use of y/n ever.
an: a quick little bite of simon and medic reader for this challenge, which i technically failed cause this is way over 100 words. happy thanksgiving
“What?” He asks, but really, it lacks the traditional inflection of a question. Instead, the single word manages to hold deep exhaustion and a healthy helping of ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’.
Which, rude.
You stomp your foot, the moue of your lips more than a little petulant. “Oh, come on, don’t make it weird. Just...a little. Enough to pass out.” you raise your hand and pinch the air for emphasis.
“What?” Oh! The inflection was back, and he’d shifted weight onto his other foot. His cotton mask allows for you to see the top half of his face today, and you’re grateful, because the furrow in his brow exposes that while he really wants to just up and leave this conversation, he’s far too curious, or maybe perplexed? Disturbed?
“I want you to choke me out, Simon.” You grin, shrugging, “preferably with your cock in me but...” You mutter to yourself, pressing your lips together and widening your eyes in mock innocence when he glares at you in response, obviously hearing you.
“No.” He turns away from you, pushing around the ceramic skull you placed in your office. A paperweight, whose presence had absolutely no hidden, romantic meaning whatsoever, you’d simply seen it in a home goods display off base and snatched it up.
It had been on sale. Or something.
“I’m a doctor.” You tap your name tag insistently, “I know my limits, Si.” Now you’re just trying to rile him up, as if he’d ever lay a hand on you in anger you didn’t expressly beg for. Still, he hates when you shorten his name, used to hate it when you said it at all.
Thankfully, things change.
“Fucking quack.” He mutters and you make a loud, dramatic, wounded noise you’d heard in a K-Drama you had watched once before flipping back to your favourite period drama you’d watched a million times over. You flatten your hand against your chest and rear back, more for your own gratification than to impress your offence upon Simon.
“I’m serious! I’m curious and I know it won’t cause any real, lasting damage.” You approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches, not from surprise, you guess, but from sensation, before his body relaxes. You push your face between his shoulder blades, rubbing your nose against his shirt.
“I’ll suck you off after.” You murmur, and the lieutenant snorts derisively.
No dice.
“Then I’ll ask Soap to do it!” You release him, and circle around your desk, feigning a grab towards your cell phone.
He doesn’t rise to the bait initially, turning back to face you and crossing his inked, scarred arms. You ogle them shamelessly, eyes greedily tracing every bit of knicked skin, every prominent, tempting vein. Thing of beauty, his arms were. “Go on, then.” He shrugs and consternation makes you furrow your brow in defeat. Unfortunately, the closer the two of you become, the more bags of candy and suggestive texts and lingering glances you exchange, the easier it is to read the other’s intent, your bluffs.
You pout, and kick at the corner of your own desk, shifting it slightly. “Fine. I wouldn’t ask him.” You tilt your head, pinning him with a needy look you hope is suitably enticing, “I’m asking you cause I trust you, Simon. Please?”
Apparently, bald, earnest honesty is the ticket because your not-boyfriend heaves a sigh and uncrosses his arms, raising one to rub at the back of his neck, the black t-shirt he dons stretched tantalizingly tight over the curve of his muscled bicep.
Oh, this was going to be so good.
“Fine. Just don’t piss yourself.”
“Do people do that?” You wrinkle your nose, and Simon levels you with a look, dark brown eyes broadcasting a stark “Do I fucking look like I’m joking?”
Regardless, you clap your hands in celebration, locking the door to your office and sprinting back to stand in front of him, the framed photo of your commanding officer, your mother, and you looking on judgmentally. You try to ignore it but end up putting the photo down on its face, no need for dear mum and your boss to witness your fantasy come to life.
Simon turns you to face away from him, the heat of his hands seeping into your shoulders. He is always so warm. It had been a boon to your freezing feet the few times you’d shared a bed for actual sleeping. (He’d cursed at you for maybe a minute before hiking your legs up to bracket his hips, so you could fall asleep wrapped around him like a koala.)
“Double tap, you understand?” He barks, and you can’t help but shimmy in excitement.
“Yup!”
Simon wraps a burly arm around your neck, not exerting any pressure yet. He hooks his other arm around his wrist so it sits in his elbow, and places that palm on the crown of your head, securing you snugly in a standard choke-hold.
“Good?” He mutters low, his chest blankets your back, and you're enveloped in the clean, sharp scent he usually carries with him.
You laugh, “Yeah-huh-huh-huh.” and you know you sound a little stupid, but you’re getting what you wanted and even without Simon utilizing force, you can feel yourself getting wet, forcing you to rub your thighs together in anticipation.
He begins to constrict your airway and it feels as though your head is ballooning, building up pressure as breathing slowly becomes more and more difficult. Your eyelids flutter closed and your lips part in shock. It doesn’t feel good, necessarily, but it certainly doesn’t feel bad. It’s obvious Simon’s holding back a lot. It probably should hurt but the lack of air makes your mind stutter to a stop, and all you can feel is Simon’s heat along your back and his strength holding you in place and his scent where it’s stalled in your lungs, unable to escape. When he shifts a bit behind you, your eyes pop back open in surprise at what you feel.
“You’re hard!” You wheeze incredulously, using the very last bit of air you had to call him out.
“And you’re a fucking lunatic.” He bites back, jerking his hips forward to rub his clothed erection against the swell of your ass. And he’s been doing that a lot lately, pushing up against your back, grinding along the fat of your thighs. Just last week, he’d spent a whole night hot-dogging (“Dumb fucking name, huh?”) the aching length of his dick between the cheeks of your ass, fucking against your flesh until he spilled hot and thick over your lower back.
You think he may be developing a thing.
He keeps rocking against you, branding his shape into your backside. “God.” He mutters, pulling you up and sliding his knee between your thighs. You can’t speak, what with your brain rapidly losing function, but if you could you’d hiss your assent, maybe scream when the muscles of his thigh nudge against your clit.
Your lungs and cunt burn in unison, and the edges of your vision fade, but you want to keep going, want to come just like this, completely under his control, dry humping his massive thigh, unable to breathe.
Finally, you raise a shaky hand to tap at his forearm, and Simon immediately releases you, letting you stumble forward, off his leg and towards your desk. Your palms make contact with the polished wood and you hunch forward panting loud and hard. The room is fucking spinning, but all you can bring yourself to do is laugh like a fucking maniac.
“You good?” The soldier speaks, the sound of his footsteps just barely piercing through the sound of your rushing blood. Your voice is practically non-existent and you have to clear your throat three times, but when you do eventually croak out a response, your chest heaves with your desperate breaths in between your words.
“Yeah, fuck yes.” Your chest slowly loses that frantic, mounting pressure and when you turn your head to look at Simon over your shoulder, his eyes are unfathomably dark and narrowed, running laps over your legs, thighs and ass.
“Good. Take your scrubs off. Right now.”
2K notes
·
View notes
could i be cheeky and ask for some more mandalorian 👀 preferably touch starved din
✦ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍 ✦
– KINKTOBER DAY 2: TOUCH STARVED
din djarin x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words
summary: the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he's finally reaching his limit.
cw: f!reader, needy din, slightly ooc din to fit the theme, begging, oral (m receiving), cumming early, reference to f oral.
⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 3: PHONE SEX ⇾
Even a kriffing Miraluka, blind as they are, could see how badly Mando desperately wanted you to touch him. The sheer yearning that rolled from The Mandalorian in waves was enough to shift the midichlorians themselves, the fibres of the galaxy trembling whenever you were near him.
Weeks trapped inside the Crest with Mando, far too preoccupied with the tiny green gremlin to pay attention to his needs had taken its toll on the warrior's mentality. Grogu had been pulling at wires, leaving the ship static in dead space and even managed to find a button that sucked the oxygen from the hangar, resulting in a frantic struggle to restore O-Levels to baseline before your lungs shrivelled. A menace to the galaxy, you’d spent more time with your eyes glued to the tiny, green hazard than you had sleeping.
In turn, Mando was practically trembling with need. He’d let out a shaky sigh every time you sat beside him in the passenger seat, voice-strain evident even with the crackle of the vocoder doing its best to conceal the distress that dripped from each singular-syllable response to your questions.
In deep space with the child finally down in his cot for a much needed sleep, Mando’s leather gloves creak with the grip he tightens around the controls of the Crest. You hear the grains scream under the pressure as you approach, glancing over the map and the coordinates Greef Karga had offered in Mando’s search for the bounty. It’s cruel, barbaric almost, but you swear you can’t see the digits, numbers far too small for you to see from this close… So you place your palm on Mando’s shoulder, leaning over him in an attempt to get a better view.
You'd never admit it, but the way you somehow managed to touch him between the Beskar plates of his armour was completely intentional. It was a guilty pleasure, seeing the stoic bounty hunter crumble simply from the pressure of your fingers. His chest heaves, each muscle in his body stiffening under the weight of your fingers.
Regardless of how heavy the Mandalorian’s stare was, his eyes burning into your skin from behind the tinted visor, you refuse to advance without his request. You pretend not to notice, mouthing the digits of the coordinates to yourself, squinting as though you were unable to see.
It had been weeks of this Loth Cat and Womp Rat game, and poor Mando seems to be reaching the end of his tether.
You finally feel his respove snap when you settle your hand on the nape of his neck, leaning further over his shoulder to ‘check the fuel levels of the Crest was enough to make the journey’. Your fingertips brush the bare skin between the neck of his flight-suit and the edge of his chrome helmet, and Mando nearly doubles over like he's in pain. He chokes out, and you can tell he's already hard, his cock straining against his flight suit.
"Please, please fucking touch me,” Mando’s voice sounds utterly pathetic, a far cry from the vicious warrior that blasted through whole packs of assassin droids.”I can't take it anymore, I ca-ahaaa-" he can't swallow the moan that bleeds through the vocoder when you palm his cock though his suit. You can feel the hard curve of his cock twitch against your palm, even though the thick fabric. A rough squeeze sends Mando’s head rocking back against the seat with a quiet, metallic thunk.
“It feels like you’ve missed me,” you murmur quietly, feeling his hips jerk against your touch when your voice reaches his ears. Prickling arousal bleeds across your skin at how reactive he is, the usually stoic figure shaking himself apart under your touch.
“M–Missed you so much,” he admits, and you’re almost certain you hear the strain of his teeth from grinding them together, “Hah– Need to feel you on me, nee-d to be in you.”
Offering a soft hum of acknowledgement to his suffering, you spin his seat around slowly. His head seems loose on his shoulders, unable to hold it upright when he sees you sink to your knees in front of him. You almost feel sorry for him, watching how he frantically scrambles to free his cock for you.
The first drag of your tongue against the arch of his shaft has Mando panic-stricken, his hands grasping the arms of the seat when his dick throbs heavily against your taste buds.
“Fuck–” He growls, practically choking on his own voice, “C–Can’t!”
“It’s okay,” you whisper against a pulsing vein beneath his velvety skin, “We can do it again…”
Pre-cum slips from the ruddy head of his cock at your gentle encouragement, a tortured whine rattling in Mando’s lungs. It’s so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was bouncing inside the Beskar walls of his helmet.
Carefully, you trace the tip of your tongue against the salty head of his cock, letting out a sharp breath when Mando takes a tight fistful of your hair. His chest is heaving, barely able to keep from slurring his words when he begs you to take him into your mouth.
Slackening your jaw, you hum softly as you take just a few inches. Mando, in what seems like a half hearted attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushes his whole body back against the chair while choking out obscene curses. You’re so slow, trying your best not to overwhelm the poor, devastated man– but the flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock and the tip nudging the back of your throat is all it takes to obliterate his self control.
Mando sounds almost winded by the force with which he cums. His balls pull up so tight, the fingers in your hair clenching to the point your follicles scream beneath the grip. Underneath the Beskar armour, every muscle in his body flexes before the cum hits the back of your throat. Spurts of thick, salty seed paint the inside of your mouth, violent jerks of his shaft causing Mando’s head to fall backwards again, whimpering as you swallow down– swallow around him.
“Hoh-Fuck–! Stars,” he babbles, wheezing out your name while the last of his cum drips from his cockhead. Pulling from him when his thighs finally start to seize from the overstimulation, you lean your head against Mando’s trembling knees and giggle. He looks utterly exhausted, slumped in his seat and chest heaving as he sucks oxygen into his lungs.
“Your mouth– hah–” he wheezes out a slight laugh, so unlike the reserved Mando you met in a bar on Corellia. You’d stopped the child from running off into the crowd, and somehow found yourself with the role of babysitting him while following the bounty hunter on his adventures. “It’s so good…”
“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, smiling to yourself at the memory of meeting the apathetic, almost grumpy chrome-man as you brush your palm across his thigh and closing your eyes to sweeten the deal, “So is yours. Put it to use and taste me?” You hear the tnk of his helmet touching the ground soon after.
pedro pascal/kinktober taglist:
@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi @howellatme @mortallyuniquepeach @maviee @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @stvrlights-world @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @girlofchaos @s-u-t @pintsizedsunshine @djarin-dreams @solidly-indulgent @bii-aan-ckaa @casa-boiardi @maelstrom007 @nikisfwn @levi-llama @haunt3dh3art @lundenloves @rentaldarling @cyberpr1m3 @jedi-in-crocs @yunggoblin @spideyman-peter @iaur @cool-iguana @paleidiot
@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh
899 notes
·
View notes
on the edge of a blunt knife
mid-shibuuya incident, nanami decides he needs some serious stress relief
(wc 2.9k, 18+ mdni. cw rough (but v consensual) sex, semi public sex, cursed energy as sexual tension lol, no gendered pronouns but reader has a vagina)
Nanami: Need you to come here.
Nanami: {location shared}
Nanami: As soon as possible.
You blink down at your phone once, twice, three times, still unsure whether or not you actually understand the texts that are displayed clearly on the screen.
His directions are straightforward – blunt, even. It’s not that you don’t understand what’s being asked of you.
It’s just that you don’t understand why he would send texts like those; completely out of the blue, you can’t even guess the context. You haven’t heard from him for three days now.
For the past year or so, your relationship with Nanami Kento has been casual – in the most extreme sense of the word. A few hook-ups at his place, even more at your own, twice in a hotel he was staying in for ‘business’. You’ve met for coffee, shared some meals, never so much as toeing the line of anything more committed.
Sure, you know certain things about him, have garnered some understanding of his personality, but there’s so much you don’t know. More than you’d care to admit.
You’ve never actually asked him what he does for a living, for one thing.
You’ve caught glimpses of enough blood-soaked shirts to hazard a guess that it’s something sketchy, which does make it easier to avoid asking questions.
Still, he’s not your boyfriend. You don’t care what he does as long as you don’t get dragged into it. It actually helps things, you think, this barrier between the two of you, keeping either one from getting too attached.
But these unprompted texts, this uncharacteristic urgency … it all makes you deeply uneasy. As you reread them for the fifth time, your gut twists with a sense of foreboding.
... and perhaps the tiniest hint of anticipation.
Still wanting to cover your bases before diving into the unknown, you type up a quick response.
You: Is it safe?
You don’t have to wait long before your phone buzzes in your hand.
Nanami: For you, yes.
The location pin he dropped you is based in a metro tunnel just outside of Shibuya.
It’s dark out, you’re not familiar with the area, the October air is bitterly cold. There are a thousand reasons for you to stay home and wait until Nanami just comes over to yours as he usually does.
The other side of the argument has far fewer points in its favour.
But against all logic you slip on a jacket, shoving your phone into your pocket as your apartment door slams shut behind you.
___
The journey is unusually quick. Glancing at every side street as you pass them by, you see they’re all virtually abandoned, with no traffic to hold you up at the street crossings.
You shrug it off; it has no connection to your meeting with Nanami, so why waste time worrying about it?
However, your concern only deepens when you arrive at the metro station. On a night like tonight it should be bustling, packed with crowds of partygoers and drunken salarymen singing the wrong lyrics to pop songs, but as you slowly descend the concrete steps, you soon realise that there’s not a single soul waiting by the platform.
It’s quiet, too. Eerily so. All you can hear is the low drip-drip-dripping of rain trickling onto the tile from the grates above, mixed with the occasional screech of the tracks. It’s cold down here, smells of damp and stagnant water, and you can't see Nanami anywhere.
You wait, but no trains appear.
The air is heavy with mist, even underground. You hug your arms to your chest to keep warm.
You’re just about to reach for your phone to text Nanami, demanding to know what the hell is going on and why he’s dragged you into it, but before you can do so, you’re distracted by the sensation of a strong hand on your shoulder.
You nearly choke out a scream when you’re the grip on your shoulder releases, the person pulling you in by the waist instead.
Nanami.
Though you held off on screaming before, you want to shout at him for startling you anyway, for giving you the fright of your life for no good reason.
However, as your mouth opens, you find yourself unable to do so.
For just a moment, you forget about how insane this all is; how he’s dragged you to an abandoned metro platform in the dead of night, with all sorts of other weird, unexplained shit happening just a few feet above your heads. Without a word of explanation as to what he needs from you.
You forget about it all, instead letting yourself get lost in the feeling of being pressed up against his chest.
The only thing to cut through your hazy train of thought is when you see –
“You’re hurt,” you murmur, lifting a hand to ghost your fingers over the scrapes on his face.
“Not very.”
“How did you – what is – what happened?”
“It's a long, long story,” he answers softly, gentle despite the strength of his touch, the protectiveness in how he holds you against him. “Too long to tell in one sitting.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
Nanami doesn’t answer at first. He takes a hand and tilts your chin so that you have no choice but to meet his eye, to watch as he scans your face, lingering on your lips.
“Remember New Year’s?”
Now it’s your turn to pause, brain processing the hidden meaning buried in his words.
This past New Year’s was the only other time Nanami had visited you in a state like this; exhausted, injured, but bursting with a sort of power and intensity you couldn’t begin to understand.
He put it down to adrenaline, a busy day at work leaving him pent up, but you knew there was something more to it. He crackled with an energy that you had never seen before. Something about him felt electric, a live wire, you could almost feel it against your fingertips as you ran your hands over his muscled chest that night, taking it all in.
He came to you needing relief. It was an unspoken request that you happily answered; perhaps the energy he emanated during that visit was infectious.
After he called to your apartment that night, you didn’t leave your bed for the better part of three days. Relief was all he sought, but it was never enough until he has burnt the last bit of energy from his body. It took time.
Now, he searches your face for signs of recognition, any indication that you know what he’s asking of you.
You know he would respect your answer if you refused, if you got the hell out of this dingy tunnel and ran back to the safety of your apartment. He would never bring it up again.
It would be so easy to refuse, to turn around and take the more sensible option.
But the only issue is that you really, really don’t want to.
“I remember.”
The tiniest crack appears in Nanami’s facade – his jaw tightens, the sharp angles of his features looking almost pained.
“You do?”
Your nod confirms it.
“So you know what I’m asking of you?” he elaborates carefully, grip tightening in the fabric of your jacket.
“Yes. And yes,” you hastily add, sensing his follow-up question. “I want to.”
At that, Nanami lets go of your waist, lifting his hands to fist in your hair as he drags you in for a crushing kiss.
He kisses you so hard it almost hurts but you give as good as you take, dragging your teeth against his bottom lip to the point it could nearly draw blood.
It’s messier than it’s been before, even more so than New Year’s. You gasp into his mouth as he keeps you flush against him with one arm, barely able to take a breath before he slips his tongue against yours, ravenous in the way he’s capturing your mouth with his.
He mumbles something against your lips, utterly incoherent, and you don’t bother asking him to repeat it.
He kisses you, running his hands over your body as though he’s never had the chance to do it before now, mapping every inch of your frame even over your clothes.
Soon you’re being guided away to somewhere more private – a nearby bathroom, just as abandoned as the rest of the platform, a place where he can take what he needs for as long as he needs it.
You watch silently as he leads you there, feeling that energy radiate from his palm to yours.
Inside the bathroom, you see that only one of the lightbulbs is still working; this bathes the room in a warm, dim light, a glow that’s just enough for you to see the transformed expression on Nanami’s face.
Your breath catches.
In almost any other setting, he’s the picture of control. He’s polite, reserved, and keeps his emotions well-guarded from the outside world, never showing his secrets of vulnerabilities to anyone.
But when this sensation overcomes him, his face twists into something unrecognisable. Hungry, primal, something that would send a bolt of fear through you if you hadn’t experienced something like this before; now, you find yourself wanting to spur it on.
Before he loses himself in it, you take the chance to start undressing, your clothes dropping to the floor as your mind starts to swim with thoughts of what will happen next, what you know he is capable of doing with those hands.
His eyes darken until they’re almost black as you bare yourself in front of him.
Back home in the safety of either of your apartments, this would undoubtedly take a lot longer. He’d use his mouth on you until your cries of his name disrupted your neighbours. You’d take him in your hand and stroke slowly, meanly, building him up to the edge until his knuckles turn white and broken swears echo around the room.
That sense of languidity is gone now. It’s urgent, both of you needing this as much as you do oxygen, fearing you’ll die without it, and so you waste no time in bending over the sink and looking up at the mirror to meet his eye in the reflection.
Here you are, in public, where anyone could just walk in off the street and see you bending over for him, completely soaked and utterly shameless – though for some reason, you’re almost certain you’re not going to be interrupted.
Nanami unbuttons his shirt, revealing the pinks and reds of bruises blossoming on his skin. Your brow furrows; somewhere in your pleasure-addled mind you think to ask him about it, press him on the cause of his injuries … on what he’s gotten himself into …
But once his hands reach for his belt, you refocus your attention on gripping the sink’s countertop to prepare yourself.
He won’t hold back. One word from you and he’ll stop, but until that word is said then he will be merciless.
He tosses the belt to the floor and undoes his suit pants, stroking himself slowly.
You look to the mirror; a short nod, you skin already prickling with goosebumps, and you’ve started something you don’t know how to finish.
He takes your ass in his hands and squeezes, spreading you open and running his length up and down, the reflection of him mumbling something to himself as he stares, transfixed at the sight of your folds ready to suck him in without so much as being touched yet.
His throat bobs, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead glistening under the low light; he slips inside with one smooth thrust.
Your spine arches as you take all eight inches of him, thicker than anything you’ve had before, pressing in at such an angle that you worry it will render you a babbling mess before the hour is out.
Already his name is spilling from your lips, voice breaking at the crescendo of each thrust, gasping for air as though he’s somehow hitting your lungs. You feel the fabric of his pants against the backs of your thighs as he fucks you half-clothed, too desperate to feel you wrapped around his cock to even fully undress.
It’s full, it’s a lot, but it doesn’t hurt – it never does. It’s why you think this … thing, this state that takes over him, that it has some sort of transferable nature to it. You need this relief just as badly as he does.
You feel the fingers of Nanami’s right hand fist in your hair, pulling you back to keep your eyes fixed on the mirror. The left stays gripping your waist, pulling your body back against him to meet the snap of his hips.
You let out a breathless giggle which only serves to spur him on further; a tug at your hair prompts a pathetic-sounding mewl of pleasure to take its place, his hold on you as unmovable as it is possessive.
It makes no sense for you to enjoy that feeling so much, to enjoy being his when you can count on one hand the concrete facts you know about this man.
You’re not thinking straight, though, not when you’re being bounced on his cock like this, no coherent thought staying in your brain for longer than three seconds. You gush around him, wet and lewd sounds bouncing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.
The mirror is blurry with condensation from the mist and the once-cool air, but you can still make out the sight of Nanami holding your hair tight in his fist, the veins in his hand prominent as he speeds up his movements.
He pauses only to help you hike your knee up against the counter. Once stable, he’s back inside you again, telling you how good you’re taking him, how you’re the only person he needs for this, leaning down and pulling your hair back up so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck.
You, on the other hand, are far less talkative. The change in angle is hitting that spot in your core that has you fluttering around him already, short little half-groans catching in your throat and dying before you can even breathe them out.
The feeling of being wanted by him, of being the one who he seeks out to help with this ache, it is something you struggle to put into words.
He’s so powerful, but you are too. It’s how he knows you’re perfect for this – he told you as much last time, when he thought you were too fucked-out to even comprehend what he was saying.
His gaze meets yours again and you marvel at how he maintains such a solid grip in your hair, never slipping even as his rhythm turns more erratic and uncontrolled.
He seems to enjoy having you in his grasp, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as he holds you, adjusting the position when he needs to. His thumb smoothes soothing circles against your skin, a pleasant contrast to the unrelenting sensation of being filled.
This is a side of him only you can see.
It's so good, teetering dangerously close to being so good that you're ruined for anyone else, unable to take anything inside you that isn't Nanami's cock.
You feel yourself burning, that familiar heat starting to coil in your lower stomach, your limbs starting to lose strength as you brace yourself for the waves to wash over.
Nanami keeps you steady, never faltering as he fucks you through it.
You gasp, clenching around him as it bursts within you, spreading like wildfire through every nerve in your body. Your body trembles beneath him and he slows mercifully. He moves slowly, careful not to overstimulate you too soon, waiting for the waves to subside before he fucks into you again, chasing his own pleasure with the closest thing to a clear mind he can hope to have in this situation.
It doesn’t take long for him to follow you over the edge, spilling over the small of your back with a gutteral moan that makes you clench around nothing, only releasing his hold on your hair and waist once the rise and fall of his chest has steadied.
Sweaty and boneless and satisfied, you wait as he cleans you off before turning to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Did it help?” you ask quietly, knowing he’ll understand.
His lips curl slightly, the divot in his brow having disappeared – the edge has been taken off momentarily. “Yes.”
His pupils are still blown out, though, and his demeanour tells you there’s more to come.
“Is this … is what’s happening outside … is it over?”
He shakes his head once, twice. “No.”
He reaches for his pocket, fishing out a silver keychain which he immediately presses into your palm.
“Go to my place. Go there and stay there, and don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
You take the key, cold against your clammy skin, and look up to him again.
“You’ll come back later?”
“I’ll come back later,” he replies immediately, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead while running a hand through his own hair. “Just wait there for a bit.”
Though still in the dark, you figure that it just might be worth the wait.
354 notes
·
View notes
prince treatment
bradley “rooster” bradshaw x AFAB reader | 5.7k words
summary: you’re hell-bent on treating bradley like a prince after the events of top gun maverick, but you’re still his princess…
cw: 18+ MDNI, no seriously p0rn with some plot, fluff, fingering, big rooster c0ck (hehe), blowjobs, shower head, oral fem receiving, pussy drunk bradley, AFAB reader, p in v sex, MATING PRESS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, possessive bradley, use of “girl” as a pet name, pet names, some degradation towards the end, breeding <3, cervix fucking, i went a lil feral with this one
as soon as you got the call that the mission was over you were hauling ass in bradley’s baby blue bronco. you’d been staying at his place while he was on the mission, keeping it clean and waiting for him to return. you hadn’t even thought to change out of one of his baggy army shirts and instead slipped on biker shorts and sped to the base. phoenix had called and told you that Mav and bradley were resting up in the infirmary but they were okay, she also told you how hangman had helped, knowing you were not fond of the blonde pilot. you choked back a sob as you thanked her letting you know and rushed to get there.
both of the pilots were asleep and you made out bradley’s expression in the dim light of the room. he didn’t look injured but you didn’t hazard touching him, only placing a kiss to his scarred cheek. even in his slumber, he was the most handsome man you’d ever known and your heart swelled knowing he was peacefully asleep in front of you. you tried your best to stay awake in the chair next to the hospital bed but ultimately your eyes shut as you fell asleep to the sound of your boyfriend’s breathing.
bradley woke up to see you curled up, in a position that hardly looked comfortable, in one of his shirts. at first he thought he was dreaming, the sunlight shining down on your hair made you look like an angel. it wasn’t until he heard your soft exhale that he realized he was very much awake and the love of his life was here. you had only been dating two months but bradley had known the first night you were it for him. you talked like you had known each other your entire lives and bradley felt like you were always within him. like you were a bone he just discovered could be broken and healed within the span of a night. you had looked at him like he put the damn stars in the sky but bradley was convinced for the better part of your early days that you were too good to be true. you were so kind to him, so loving it didn’t make sense. it still didn’t make sense, but he let himself be selfish, let himself be cared for. he watched the way his shirt dipped off your shoulder, how the material swallowed you whole and how damn good it felt knowing his girl was dressed in his clothes.
you stirred as bradley moved off the bed, sitting up and pulling on his boots. you always were a light sleeper, waking up to kiss him goodbye every morning no matter how early. your body unfurled, you clutched your neck as you stretched it, sore from its craned position. when your eyes fluttered open you took in your boyfriend staring at you lovingly as he sat across from you. you instantly sat up, your feet moving towards him.
“morning sweetheart.” you didn’t respond, just threw your arms around his neck. you’d missed his voice, it had only been a few weeks but you were terrified the entire time. you didn’t realize you were crying until his strong arms pulled you a little closer when tears wet his back. “hey, it’s okay i’m here.” he rubbed your back, rubbing his nose against the length of your neck, inhaling your scent. you smelled mostly of him, his shirt attributing to that, but there was still a hint of that warm floral smell that he could never get enough of. when your tears seemed to subside you pulled back to look at him, you had missed his eyes.
“hey handsome.” you said, your voice a little groggy still but he laughed nevertheless, and you were content with the smile on his face. you wanted to see him happy all the time, you wanted to care for him, he had been through so much not just in the mission but the past few months. “let’s go home.” home, bradley liked the way you said that about his place. you had only been there a couple times since you started dating, he usually stayed at your place but it seemed you had gotten comfortable at his apartment. the thought alone made the blood rush in his veins.
bradley threw his arm over your shoulder, you tucked into his side and pressed a kiss to his hand since you couldn’t reach his face without some tiptoeing. bradley thought you might just be the sweetest girl in the entire world. in the hallway outside the room you saw hangman sitting down and waiting, you couldn’t believe it but you remembered what phoenix said. he stood up and clapped a hand over bradley’s shoulder, they nodded at each other a whole conversation taking place in silence. you weren’t so adept in whatever that was so instead you just hugged him, bradley letting you go for a moment. you thanked him as you did it, and hangman let out a breath it felt he was holding for a while. you turn back towards bradley, seeing the small smile on his face.
“i know you would’ve killed me, and probably mav if anything happened to him,” jake joked, clearly uncomfortable with being appreciated, and you let him return back to his norm. you knew that in his own way, jake cared about rooster and mav and all the other pilots. he’d just never admit to it.
“you know me so well.” you looked up to bradley who had been watching you throughout the whole conversation. he was struck by how protective you were of him, the fact that you’d fight for him was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest. how had he never noticed this before? you were always barking back at hangman, or telling maverick off. he just never pieced together that it was all for him. he was a fool.
your voice shook him out of his thoughts as you bid your goodbyes to hangman and made your way to the parking lot. bradley could spot his car from a mile away but his eyes were on you. you pushed away from his hold, dangling the keys in front of his face. “i’m driving, you need to rest.” bradley couldn’t protest when you looked like a vision leaning back against the truck bed. he nodded, stepping towards you his hips against yours as he had you pressed against the truck. his arms circled your waist and yours circled his neck, one hand raking through his hair. bradley had to stop himself from groaning at the feeling of your nails scraping his scalp.
“i missed you so much, bradley, i’m so glad you’re safe. you’re a hero, you know that?” the adoration in your eyes was too much for him, bradley thought he might just prove how much he loves you in the bed of his truck, but you didn’t deserve that he wanted to tell you slowly, show you over and over again until you could only think that one thought, bradley loves you.
“i missed you too, before hangman radioed all i could think about was how much i wanted to come home to you.” you didn’t want to cry again, but you could feel tears pricking your eyes. you looked down, head hanging low as you realized what he was saying. when he was scared for his life, he was thinking about you.
“look at me, let me see those pretty eyes.” he nudged your head up, his hand cupping your jaw as he lightly pinched your chin. finally you gave in, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. he watched you blink, wiped the tears that strayed and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“bradley, you can’t-fuck i can’t lose you.” bradley knew that you loved him, you’d already made it clear in your actions and now even though he could his reflection in your eyes he could still see that raw desperation and need that he recognized so well. you were just waiting for him, waiting for him to accept the love.
“you won’t.” he promised it with a kiss to your lips, letting you pull him closer, his half hard dick pressed against your stomach and you gasped, giving him an opening. his tongue traced the seam of your lips before delving deeper and tasting you. you kissed him back just as fervently, desperate for him. you pulled back for air first, bradley still pressing kisses to your mouth as you struggled for air. it was then that you realized you were still on the base. you reminded bradley of the fact and pushed him off, you had plans to cook him dinner and curl up in bed, it was high time to head home. bradley, reluctantly moved away from you pressing one last kiss to your lips before moving to the passenger door. you wished your boyfriend wasn’t so irresistible the taste of his lips lingered and you wanted so much more, but you could be patient.
you stuck the keys in and drove off towards bradley’s place and bradley couldn’t help but notice how good you looked driving his car. his shirt still hanging off your shoulders, his. you were his and the thought alone made his hand inch towards your thigh.
“hey that’s my move! you’re the passenger remember.” you pouted, shooting him a playful glare at a red light.
“i beat you to it, not my fault you look so pretty driving my car.” your heart skipped a beat as his hand inched higher, his voice dripping with want. you couldn’t look at him, you knew you’d lose all focus on your goals at home.
“i like taking care of you.” you murmured and bradley didn’t miss it. he couldn’t help but moved his hand higher, long fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts and finally you looked at him. your flushed cheeks and wide eyes drove bradley a little crazier. you didn’t stop him as his fingers grazed your flesh, a whine crawling up your throat. you looked back at the road, driving as well as you could as his thick fingers grazed your clit. his fingers dipped further, stopping as he felt just how wet you were. you squirmed and he huffed out a laugh as he collected your slick, his fingers coated in it. one of his thick fingers slipped into your heat and you bit your bottom lip to hold in the moan, he slid in easily all your arousal easing his movement. his finger curled and found the spot he was well familiar with, making you clench around him.
“so tight baby, ease up.” bradley couldn’t believe just how easily worked up you were, maybe you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. your arousal probably soaked through your shorts, he should’ve known. he watched as you abused your bottom lip, plump and raw from your teeth. he wanted to hear your pretty noises but he could wait. just as you felt yourself grow close, he slipped his finger out, grazing your clit making you tense, as his hand left your shorts. you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him as he licked your essence off his fingers, looking at you hungrily. the eye contact and the lewd sound of him slurping made you clench again, wanting to be home so badly.
“you taste like heaven sweetheart, can never have enough.” his words alone made you sure you had wet his leather seats. this was the longest drive home ever.
finally after feeling bradley’s eyes on you the remaining drive home you pulled into the driveway. bradley made his way to your door before you had finished collecting your things and opened it for you, you blushed as you looked up at him. it was only minutes ago that the same hand holding the door open was touching you. you made your way inside bradley’s house, setting your stuff down and bradley kicked his shoes off. his place looked the same. there were only a few changes, it smelled like coffee and there was a bouquet on his dining table. it looked fresh, like you’d gotten it just before he came home. was it for him? no surely it was just coincidence.
“it smells so good in here what did you do?” you smiled at him, interlocking your hands as you crossed the space to the dining table. it’s not like it smelled bad before but it was just apartment smells, like pinesol and faint hints of his cologne.
“i just brought some of my candles over. these are for you, i was too frazzled to bring them so i popped them in a vase.” you motioned to the bouquet of peach roses and babies breath. bradley was stunned by you once again. he didn’t know what else to do but pick you up by your waist and pull you into him.
“i don’t deserve you.” he kept his arms wrapped around, his head nuzzling into your neck as you ran your hands through his hair. your bradley was home and you wanted him to know just how much you appreciated him, how much you loved him.
“yes you do, we deserve each other. you’re a hero roo.” you press a kiss to his head, he’s filled with emotion you can hear it in his voice and you’re no better, you’d do anything for him and you hope he knows it. finally bradley let’s you go from his grip, placing you down carefully, pressing a kiss to your fingers that are still interlocked with his own. you feel your heart flutter, set alight by his gentle adoration of you.
“i wanted to cook for you, are you hungry right now or do you wanna wait?” bradley doesn’t know how much a man can take, you’re too good to be true. he nods dumbly watching you saunter into his kitchen, watching you as he takes a seat at the island.
“let’s eat baby.” you shoot him a smile, you had already started getting ingredients out. you knew bradley, he’d eat if there was food offered. bradley felt for the second time like he’d woken up in dream. you moved around his kitchen like you knew it like the back of your hand, and maybe you did but something about you here in his kitchen, wearing his shirt after driving his car home made bradley painfully strain in his pants. you were cooking for him, taking care of him and you looked so damn good doing it. his eyes never left your body as you moved, eyeing you up and down. when you turned towards him he realized you’d said something to him. you held back a laugh as his eyes trailed from your legs to your face. “hmm?”
“i was just saying that kristine at work is getting married, she invited us.” bradley responded to you, and tried to keep himself from getting distracted by you. you decided to be a bit mean by bending down to grab a pot, you could’ve easily grabbed a different one but where was the fun in that? bradley barely finished his sentence as he watched his shirt ride up and show off your ass. he would have to buy you more of those biker shorts, they left nothing to the imagination. you couldn’t help but laugh this time, turning around to look him squarely in the eyes. “cat got your tongue?”
“you’re killing me baby.” he groaned, getting up and coming around the counter to stand in front of you. you could see his bulge as soon as he stood, your cheeks flushing but you kept your bravado all the same. his hands came to your waist, finding their home easily and you placed your hands on his annoyingly firm chest.
“we’re having dinner bradshaw no funny business, take a cold shower.” you teased, bradley groaned and pouted. he probably did need a cold shower, but parting with you was not an option in his mind
“come with me?” you wish you could be the bigger person, not give into the feeling in your stomach you’d been ignoring since you saw him when you woke up, but as he wet his lips and looked at you with his big hazel eyes your resolve dissolved.
you nodded, letting him clasp his hand around your wrist and pull you away. “wait! let me put the lasagna soup on simmer!” you had enough time to shower and be back to finish off dinner, bradley waited like an impatient puppy as you moved the pot, his hands back on your waist, his chest against your back. you could feel his hard-on and you bit your lip to stop yourself from brushing back on him. bradley didn’t think any amount of cold showers would help him scratch the itch that you had implanted within him, all it took was seeing you walking around his house like it was yours too to make him lose his mind.
you followed bradley to his room, grabbing a pair of pajamas which was quickly replaced by one of his army shirts and underwear. bradley watched you strip in the bathroom, his eyes not leaving your bare frame as he turned on the shower. you giggled as you watched his cheeks redden and you felt particularly evil as you pressed up against him and lifted the hem of his shirt up, urging him to take it off. bradley looked down at you, your hardened nipples pressing against his chest and he didn’t know if you were trying to kill him but his heart was
beating out of his chest. you counted down in your mind, 30 minutes to shower, you could do a lot in that time. maybe you’d let bradley work up an appetite.
he pulled off his shirt, his pants next and boxers. you stepped into the shower, beckoning to follow. you pressed at his shoulders to sit down on the bench within his shower, wanting to wash his hair. bradley’s mouth was slightly agape as he let you do as you pleased. you lathered your fingers with shampoo, tilting his head back, and got to work. he could feel your nails scrape against his scalp lightly, your fingers working in the shampoo and making sure to keep the shampoo out of his eyes. his breathing was only quickening as he watched you adamantly take care of you. he couldn’t remember the last time someone took care of him like this, well he could but it hurt to think of. he’d only known you a few months but the way you looked at him, the way you cared for him made him want to propose to you right now. overcome with emotion and a guttural need to make you feel his love, he pressed a kiss to your arm, drawing your eyes to his. you looked at him curiously, clearly so focused on his hair that you didn’t notice his growing emotions. you pressed a kiss to his lips before moving out of the way and grabbing the shower head to wash out the shampoo, your fingers wracking through his hair and making sure it was all washed out.
“can i get up now?” he said as he watched you grab the body wash. you placed the shower head back and turned back to him
“hmm? oh no, you’re getting special services lieutenant bradshaw.” you squeezed some body wash on your hands and bradley’s brain short-circuited. he could take your hands on his head, but your soft small hands on his body would surely end him. he quickly stood up and grabbed you by the waist to push you down.
“you know this could be classified as torture, pretty girl.” you were now in eye-line with his red throbbing member, unable to ignore just how desperate it looked for attention. you swallowed down before looking up at your boyfriend. you lathered the body wash on your breasts, looking up at him innocently as you pushed them together and a small groan left his lips. after your little show you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. bradley was big everywhere so unsurprisingly you had a hard time taking all of him into your mouth. you had been successful a couple times, with his help. bradley shuddered at the feeling of your soft lips against him. he clenched his fists as to not pull you onto him. your hands went around his hips and pulled him closer, he was standing between your spread legs and you moved closer on the bench, to get as close as possible. you brought your hands to rest on his thighs as you licked a stripe up his length, feeling his veins pressed against your tongue, pressing another sweet kiss to his tip, making him twitch against your mouth.
“mm roo, can you fuck my mouth?” you looked up at him sweetly and bradley swore he could’ve came just from the sight alone, but he quickly realized he’d rather do that down your throat. without a second of hesitation he grabbed your hair into a ponytail and pried your mouth open with his other hand, slowly sliding his heavy cock in until you adjusted. you felt his tip brush against your throat, struggling to breath as you felt like you were choking on him. your jaw ached as you adjusted to his girth and your tears stung from the intrusion, you could feel his veins against your tongue and the hair at the base of his shaft tickled your nose as you struggled to breath. after a few moments as you regained your breath you tapped on his thigh, signaling for him to move and then bradley snapped out of you and fucked your throat, filling you even deeper than before. he was brutal as he set the pace, you moaned and gagged on him, spit and cum collecting around your mouth and dribbling down your chin as the shower head sprayed down his back and left you feeling filthy. tears were streaming down your face and you dug your nails into his thigh. bradley was close, you could feel him twitching down your throat and his grip loosening, you forced yourself all the way down his length, making it hard to breathe as he filled your throat with his cum. you gagged as it kept coming out, more and more and he pulled you off, the remainder painting your mouth and face white. you wiped it off with your hand and brought it back to your mouth to swallow and bradley thought he might need another round right away. he pulled you up on your shaky legs and pressed a kiss to your lips, tasting himself there. you felt so warm from making him cum, making your bradley feel good. he washed you then, returning the favor from earlier. after showering he dried you off and you did the same for him, letting your hands trail on his abs a little longer than intended. bradley gave you a warning sign and you looked at him with false confusion.
dinner went by quickly after that, both of you having worked up an appetite. “that tasted damn good darlin’” he wiped his mouth and you clenched your legs together where they were crossed. seeing him eat always made you a little needy.
“glad you liked it roo,” you watched as he carried both of your plates to the sink and cleared the table, sticking the dishes in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. your hungry eyes never left his, the kitchen light reflecting off his dog tags, making your head spin.
“my baby’s treating me so well, i would kill for some desert though.” he stood in front of you, pulling you gently to stand and you watched him curiously. he hauled you up, your hands immediately going around his neck and your legs around his waist. before you could ask what he was doing he set you down on the dinner table, kneeling in front of you. his large hands rested on either knee, looking at you silently for permission. you groaned as you looked at his hungry expression, nodding weakly as you felt your arms shake from holding your body up. when his hands parted your legs and pulled down your underwear you fell back, losing any control over your body that you had. “been dying to taste you again, my sweet sweet girl.” he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, murmuring sweet nothings to your core and you wanted to press your legs together to release some of the tension but his strong grip kept you in place. “patience doll.” you whined at his slow kisses between your thighs, never quite where you needed him. you felt so hot and you were sure you were about to drip onto your wooden table if he didn’t touch you soon.
“please roo, i-i can’t.” another whine crawled up your throat as he pressed a kiss to your clit, his mustache grazing your soft skin.
“you can, you’ve been so good all day right? you can be good now.” your hands went to his hair, tugged at the strands there, he just laughed at your attempts to get him where you wanted him. finally after what felt like hours, he pressed a thick finger against your entrance feeling just how wet you were. he felt his dick twitch in his pants at how easily you could take his finger in, so wet and ready for him. he brought the finger to his lips, reminding you of earlier today as he swirled his tongue around it, humming at the taste of you. without warning he pulled you towards his face, your bare ass sliding against the wood as he licked a stripe down your core. bradley felt dizzy at the taste of you, you were so fucking wet, all for him, all because of him. the thought and the addictive taste of you, caused him to dive his tongue into your soppy hole. you whined out his name at the feeling of his tongue moving inside you, scraping your walls, making you gush onto his tongue. the sounds of his tongue fucking you and your whines filled the room. his left hand moved from where it pushed at your thigh to instead thumbing at your clit. you tugged at his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer and he hummed at the sting, using his other hand to slip a finger into your hole, both his tongue and finger relentless in drawing out more of your ichor. you clenched and he pushed another finger in, removing his tongue entirely and moving to suck your clit as his thick fingers found the spot that made you scream his name. “brad-please i’m so close”
“give it to me pretty girl,” he curled his fingers up, his tongue going back to your hole to catch any of your slick before it plopped on the table, his fingers and mouth driving you to your orgasm and fucking your through it. you were jerking in his hold as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, not letting any of your release go to waste.
“roo, too much.” you whined as you weakly pushed at his shoulders, the overstimulation becoming too much to bare. he pulled back and you leaned up to see the lower half of his face and mustache glistening in the light. you sat up, clambering to pull him towards you, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue. bradley smiled as he kissed you sloppily, letting you explore his mouth and you whined at the feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core through his sweatpants. as if you weren’t overstimulated minutes ago, your boyfriend being so turned on from eating you out made your core tighten, “want your dick, want you to fill me up.” you whined into his mouth as he pulled back and pressed a kiss to the tender spot beneath your ear. bradley didn’t speak as he picked you up, his hands under your plush ass as he hauled you to the bedroom.
“can’t just say shit like that baby, you’ll drive me crazy.” he growled into your ear, his hold tightening on your ass and pulling you closer against his hard chest.
“s’true though.” you mumbled as he set you down on the bed, pulling your shirt clean off as to you watched him hungrily stare at your body. he leaned over you then, his hand coming between your legs and your eyes widened as you realized what he was doing. “no please-i can take it please roo, it’ll fit i-“ you were begging, desperation and desire clawing at your sensibility and bradley wished he had photographic memory so he could memorize the look on your face and the whine to your voice. you were so gone for him, but he was no better your taste was still branded on the back of his teeth and yet he wanted more.
“desperate little slut, you’ll regret this you know that right?” bradley rarely spoke to you like that, he didn’t really like it, but he could see you clench on air at his words, could see the way your chest moved a little faster.
“i-i can take it.” and he nodded moving up, plunging deep into you before you started begging again. the stretch stole the air from your lungs and the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix made you tense. but then he was moving slowly out and back in, letting you adjust and the burn gave way to pleasure as you clenched around him and felt your arousal mixed with his make the movement easier. you could feel his heavy thick member shaping your walls to fit him, every vein every ridge imprinting inside you. every slow thrust made him kiss your cervix, a ring of cum collecting at the base of his shaft and your arousal pooling down his balls. you wanted more, wanted to burn, barely wanted to walk tomorrow because of him. you clawed at his back, whining as you begged for more, “harder please please.” bradley gave into your pretty little pleas.
he pulled your legs over his shoulders and tilted towards you, his cock dipping into you and hitting a new angle that made his go deeper and strecth you out even more. he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lifted up and pounded down into you, and then again and then until he was pounding you so hard and fast that your head was banging against the headboard. your mind went numb at the overwhelming pleasure, you dug your nails in to ground yourself as his tip bruised your cervix and he hit the spot that made you babble and cry for more. bradley was fucking you like it was the only chance he had, his hips snapping into yours and your cum dripping down your thighs and his. the room smelled of sex and sounded pornographic. “this pussy is mine, you’re mine.” he growled out and you clenched around him, loving the sound of that. you had been his since the moment you met.
“i’m yours.” you gasped between thrusts, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. you cried out as he pulled back to look down at you, his hand cradling your jaw and then he slipped his thumb into your mouth and you felt yourself grow close. bradley was filling you up and now his fingers were in your mouth, keeping you stuffed. you slobbered around them sucking and whining as the moved down your throat, fucking you there too. all you could think about was him filling you up.
“need your cum,” you managed as you pulled his fingers out, saliva trailing behind and connecting to your lips. bradley almost came at yours words alone, he pulled his drenched fingers and flicked your clit, massaging it slowly in contrast to his brutal pace. you were sure your cunt would be bruised if that was possible.
“gonna fill you up, watch you walk around my house. in my clothes. drive my car with my kid inside you. you’re fucking mine forever.” he babbled, angling himself until he was kissing your cervix with each thrust, punctuating his words and then finally his resolve snapped. he dipped his hips to connect to yours one last time before he was filling you up, his cum overflowing from your small cunt. you gasped and cried at the feeling coming with him and seeing white as you arched up into him, clawing down his back and leaving red marks in your wake.
you felt so warm and when he pulled out you whined at the feeling of his cum gushing out, threatening to run down your thighs. but bradley was quicker, he was fucking it back into you, making sure it stayed in there. you clenched at the feeling and cried out his name. you knew you were on birth control, bradley knew it too but the way he fucked you like he wanted to breed you made your head spin. bradley pulled you on top of him as he moved to lay next to you on his back, enjoying the weight of your body on his. “for the record, you’re mine forever too.” although it wasn’t i love you it was damn near close and the way bradley fucked you, you weren’t sure those words were needed any more.
897 notes
·
View notes
⎯⎯ 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰
.࿔ feat. xiao + gn. reader
.࿔ premise. letters from the heart are always written in gold.
.࿔ cw. fluff, college au, meet cute, a single virginity joke
.࿔ notes. utterly in love with xiao, please come scream about him with me
Despite popular belief, the library is never silent.
It's a muted cacophony of rustling pages, the creaking of chairs, and the occasional soggy sneeze from the unfortunate soul who caught the latest virus on campus. But fortunately for you, it's the right amount of noise needed to focus. You're tucked away into the back corner, notebooks hazardously strewn across the table. Your only companion is a lukewarm cup of iced coffee, condensation running down the sides and forming a puddle that threateningly inches toward your papers.
Today, the library is unusually empty; the seats at your table are vacant. It's a blessing to you—fewer eyes to witness your silent paroxysm of stress. With multiple deadlines approaching (underlined in three different colors in your agenda), you can feel the exhaustion catching up to you. It's your fault, really, for procrastinating. But in your book, the early bird doesn't get the worm, and things turn out better with a deadline chasing after you.
Nevertheless, procrastination or not, the stress was taking a toll on your mind, and as you slam your head against the table in frustration, you feel tears well up in your eyes.
Amidst your breakdown, you hear timid footsteps approach your corner and look up, forehead aching from hitting your head against the table. The sight in front of you takes your breath away.
The boy before you is beautiful.
Snowflakes litter his hair like powdered sugar on dark chocolate, dampening the dark strands. Large hands awkwardly grip the straps of his backpack as he lingers in front of you, burrowing his nose into his emerald green scarf as a cold draft comes in from the windows. The only part of his face left unhidden are his eyes: golden, lined with dark lashes and a light dusting of red eyeshadow—golden eyes that now meet your gaze.
You feel your heart skip a beat. And then it skips another beat when he speaks.
"Can I sit here?" he mumbles, gesturing towards the empty seat across from you. You nod, scrambling to gather your haphazard mess of papers and frantically push them onto your side of the table. Something fragrant floods your senses as he sits down; soft notes of vanilla and amber drown out the dusty smell of the library, clearing the fog in your head. Taking a sip from your watered-down coffee, you watch as he pulls his laptop out of his bag, a myriad of colorful neon sticky notes covering its gray exterior. You sneak a brief look at them.
"Email Prof. Zhongli back ASAP"
"Lunch with Kazu and me tomorrow 2PM, don't forget!! — the better friend >:)" (scribbled in glittery purple ink)
"XIAO YOU THIEF DID YOU TAKE MY POETRY BOOK??"
The last note makes you choke on your coffee, an unattractive cough escaping your lips. Golden eyes glance up in surprise, but concern quickly melts into amusement when he sees your shoulders shake with laughter. You awkwardly clear your throat and duck your head behind your laptop screen. But curiosity eats away at you, and when you peer up at him, you see his cheeks flush red and a small smile curve on his lips.
Something in your stomach flutters.
His name is Xiao, you later learn, and you know exactly three things about him.
ONE
An intricate pattern of green decorates his right arm, but it's usually kept hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You've seen it exactly once, when the air conditioning in the library broke one day. Xiao had grudgingly shed his jacket when the heat got unbearable, leaving him in just a white T-shirt.
You could have sworn that the temperature in the room got hotter when you caught sight of the green ink.
TWO
Every Tuesday, his friends accompany him to the library—not to study, it seems, but to serve as a distraction for both you and Xiao. The one who sits to his left is Venti, and also who you consider the library's worst nightmare. Rather than working, he chooses to talk Xiao's ear off and scroll through his phone. But although he glares at Venti during the entirety of their stay, you can tell that Xiao doesn't really mind his presence.
To his right sits Kazuha, literature major and Xiao’s roommate. Unlike Venti, he's rather quiet, spending his time scribbling in an incredibly worn-down notebook, leaving you wondering what stories he could be weaving within its covers. He's pretty, you think. If you weren't enamored by Xiao, you would have gone after him.
They're an odd mix but it somehow works: Kazuha proofreads everyone's papers (and nearly loses his mind when he sees Xiao's). When Xiao and Kazuha are visibly stressed, it's Venti who pesters them until the tension in their shoulders relaxes. And when Kazuha's just about had it with Venti, Xiao's the one who holds him back until he calms down.
In your opinion, they're quite entertaining to watch, albeit a little distracting.
THREE
Despite his aloof exterior, Xiao is endearingly shy.
You've never had a proper conversation with him; a small nod and a smile are sufficient enough for both of you. But as the months slowly pass by, he comes out of his shell—like a stray cat, you muse.
Behind his stern gaze and intimidating aura, Xiao is sweet and attentive. When you caught a nasty cold during exam season, he made sure to pack a box of tissues just for you. When your stomach makes embarrassing noises in the evenings, he slides a granola bar across the table without a word. And once, when you accidentally fell asleep with your nose buried in a textbook, you woke up hours later to a familiar sweatshirt tucked under your head and a note stuck on your laptop screen that read "good luck on your exams, you can do this".
You tucked the note into your nightstand later that day.
Your friendship isn't one-sided, though. Your fancy highlighters always end up on his side of the table, colorful ink decorating his neat handwriting. When his phone dies (and it often does; it's rather old) and his eyes pleadingly look your way, you're already handing your portable charger to him. Oftentimes, your extra hair tie makes its way from your bag and into his messy hair, holding the strands up into a bun. And on some days, Xiao arrives at the library to find a cup of coffee waiting for him at his seat—iced caramel macchiato with extra vanilla syrup.
Slowly, something more than a friendship blooms—something filled with quick, bashful glances and soft smiles. And although the warm, fluttering feeling in your chest is hard to ignore, the two of you are too shy to address it.
Today is different, though.
He's late—it's a quarter after six when Xiao scurries into the library. And instead of sitting across from you like he usually does, he slumps into the chair next to you.
You watch the flustered boy pull his laptop out, your brows furrowing in confusion when you notice the lack of the usual obnoxiously vibrant sticky notes stuck onto the lid. Instead, there's a single blue square covered in writing.
"You can do it Xiao!!"
"OUR BABY XIAO GREW SOME BALLS"
"RIP to Xiao's virginity!!"
The last note was furiously scribbled out in black ink.
Today feels different because Xiao appears to be very nervous: his left knee bounces under the table, jolting against the leg of his chair. A sheen of sweat beads on his forehead and he refuses to make eye contact with you—even when you wave hello.
"Hi," you smile. He nervously meets your gaze for a second before glancing away, mirth glittering in your eyes like the sun's reflection in the summer sea.
"Hello," he mutters, and he attempts to smile back, although he's sure it looks more like a grimace. He awkwardly clears his throat, raking his hands through his hair while he tries to collect himself.
"Xiao, are you okay?" you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, knocking your cup of coffee all over the desk.
"Oh," he gasps, scrabbling to save his laptop and your papers from the growing puddle of caffeine. You mop up the spill with some spare napkins and try to reassure him, but your words fall on deaf ears.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I was going to ask you out but I got nervous and—"
Realizing what he was saying, he snaps his mouth shut in embarrassment and slams his head against the desk, cradling his head in his arms and praying to every deity to erase his existence while you hold back your laughter. Xiao is usually ever so composed; seeing him so flustered is rather endearing.
A soft touch to the back of his hand interrupts his prayers, startling him. He peeks out from the protection of his arms to see a pink sticky note stuck to his skin. You're smiling, and the sight is enough to feed the butterflies in his stomach. The setting sun bathes the room in a soft golden glow; time feels like molten honey as Xiao slowly reads the note.
XXX-XXX-XXXX
if it's hard to talk, we can always text :)
Something in him warms at the sight of your handwriting, and he finally looks up to meet your eyes. A real, genuine smile dances on his lips, and he hears your breath catch.
Golden eyes always looked prettier under the sun, after all.
.࿔ notes. big thank you to aly, kyo, and xin for beta reading!!
403 notes
·
View notes
Hey can I request any jealous ghost or yandere ghost headcanons with smut. Please?
↳ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY // COMING DOWN. ❀
CW// OBSESSION, STALKING, VIOLENCE, ORAL, ECT.
NOTES// obsessive!anything has to be my fav to write. Anyways.
He’s got a staring problem, it’s chronic. He knows all too well, he’s too tentative, far too particular. Ghost knows better than to stare, he knows your feet shift before you turn to look around your shoulder. He knows your attention is pointed where your torso is, you have a blind spot to your left and the right eye is worse than the other. He knows better than to look while you look back. It’s rude. It’s obvious.
He’s often thought of your face upon meeting him. Most think him monstrous, horrible, evil. He’d hoped you’d be scared too, see what evils had been protecting you thus far. Know the power and capacity of that man, the weight of his shadow on your brow bone, his bulking figure on the eye. To know someone’s getting the job done.
It wouldn't be too hard to notice him in every corner of a room. You’d just purposely moved from the bar to the rooftop, he’s still sat in a chair farthest left of you. You’d twitch under the attention, stress under his eyes and grow anxious. But he’d love it, knowing your finally aware of him.
Already in a relationship? No issue. He’d hate to have to kill, he’d hate to see you cry, get all messy just cause of him. Me might not, he might enjoy cheering you up, understanding what no one else cloud. Maybe he’d get angry, chastise you for ever having used your mouth to talk to anyone else. He just might choke you on him, use it, finally, for some good. Train you good and well to only use two words, ‘Please’ and ‘Yes’
It would come easily, first. Texts from unsaved numbers on your lovers phone, disappearances on the hour. Then, to arguments, to fighting and rumors. A photo of your ex and another.
Your marital relationship with Si was art. He aged like fine wine, soon becoming nothing more than a doting husband. He’d drool at the sight of you, never let you do any bit of work. The house is in his name, only one car for him to drive, a house in the woods, food provided by him. He’d let you do damn near anything to him.
He has a few scattered trust issues. Spiraling into control and commitment. He’d always kiss your hands and eyes, kneel and beg mercy during any argument. But he’s began monitoring your nutritional intake, jutting motion detectors in the four corners of the room. But you get it, occupational hazard.
More often than not he’s gone into lengths upon lengths of detail whilst rutting into you. Describing his strength, power, might over the ones around you. How easily the hands ringing your hips have broken a man. How beautiful you look, how he’d wanted to ruin your pretty little eyes every moment they weren’t on him. What horrible things he had thought in a hooded black jacket staring you down at the bar.
Corruption, Ghost would enjoy ruining you. Using you an earshot away from your peers. Affirming your safety, how he would never let any other see you how he did. How he had needed you so badly, he couldn’t even wait a moments rest, and while there is still breath in his breast, he would kill any other man before they saw you bare before him.
536 notes
·
View notes
Head-Empty Headcanons
Things they say, think, and do that prove they are a bit air-headed.
Genre: Headcanons, Comedy
Characters featured: All Obey Me! Characters (yes, even the new ones!)
Whenever Mc is mentioned its unrelated to their gender!
CW: swearing!
A/N: The brain rot is real this morning, and I haven’t done anything super silly in awhile, so here!
Belphegor
The weirdest shit always comes out of his mouth when he’s half awake.
Will ask the most ridiculous questions when he’s in between naps or when he’s just woken up because his brain is on autopilot, like along the lines of “Do you think pigeons have feelings?”
Does not look when he crosses the street.
Will literally ask what you said after being annoyed that you asked if he was listening.
Has drank water while laying down and choked himself.
Beelzebub
3 balls bopping around his head at all times are Food, Workout, and MC like a game of Pong
Blinks one eye at a time. It’s subtle but he totally does it.
Has eaten the fortune out of a fortune cookie because he thought that was part of the process of making the fortune come true.
When told by MC he had to rinse rice before cooking it he asked if he needed to use soap.
Has eaten whole, raw, potatoes because he thought it would give him protein like eating raw eggs would.
Asmodeus
He’s pretty; he doesn’t have to be smart.
Once stared frustratingly in the mirror for 15 minutes trying to figure out why the phrase written on his shirt was backwards.
The first time he dyed his hair, he got mad that it didn’t grow the same color out of his scalp.
Forgets that he owns something and will by numerous duplicates.
1000% has fallen for MLM scams
Satan
No thought only cat.
You need to watch him like a toddler if you take him to the zoo. He will try to jump into every big cat enclosure.
Has started fires in his room multiple times because he put candles on top of his books (Seriously dude your room is a fire hazard) but is still clueless as to how it happened.
The first time he saw a racoon he thought it was a rare breed of cat and tried to snuggle it.
Leviathan
Somebody take his screens away.
Has 100% tried to “Back Space” words when writing physically with pen and paper.
More than once has screamed at a game system for not working when he had just not realized that it was unplugged.
Has definitely run into walls after sitting 2 feet away from his giant TV like a 3 year old.
Has completely ignored and walked away from people because he is too busy creating a theme music for himself as he’s doing something that he perceives as cool.
Mammon
I think I could never run of ideas for how airheaded this man is, but I’ll go for the abstract ones since there are many that are obvious.
One of those dudes who thinks pee comes out of the vagina.
Definitely goes down existential rabbit holes because of questions like “Is cereal a soup” or “is a hotdog a sandwich”
Will literally believe anything you tell him if you say it with enough sincerity- even if it’s the most ridiculous thing you could think of.
100% believes that horror movies like Friday the 13th are based on true events and is convinced that most humans die by serial killers
Lucifer
This man has absolutely done the dumbest shit when he is sleep deprived.
Will lose things that he is holding in his hands as he’s using them- often it’s his pen or his phone.
has drank scalding hot coffee because he forgot it was too hot to drink.
Leaves things in the oven and microwave all the time. Usually Beel finds it and eats it, and he’s none the wiser.
Talks to himself all the time, usually giving reminders to do things or a grocery list, but also will just narrate things.
Literally a Golden Retriever.
Diavolo
Holds up his his fingers in an L shape to determine right from left- which never works because he forgets which way an L is supposed to go.
Will believe pretty much anything you tell him about the human world if you say it with enough conviction.
Constantly doing the most ridiculous things without thinking of the consequences- often times leaving Lucifer or Barbatos to clean up his mess.
Constantly bothers Mc, Lucifer, and Barbatos when they’re busy- even after just being scolded for being a distraction- because he forgets that they’re doing something and wanted to show them something cool
Barbatos
He’s probably the least ditzy, but even he has his moments.
Walks into the kitchen and forgets why he was going in there. All the time.
Accidentally goes through all of the Little D’s names before getting the right one- even if he had JUST done the same thing for a different little D
Will step out the door to go somewhere with Lord Diavolo and immediately wonder if he left the Stove on. He will go check, and still wonder if it’s on 5 hours later.
Mephistopheles
Simp! Simp alert!
Will do anything you tell him if you said “Well, I guess I could go ask Lucifer to do it...” even if its embarrassing or flat-out dangerous lol
Diavolo occupies his brain at all times so he’s often distracted by intense pining for their “friendship” that was totally not a one-way crush. (go listen to “When Somebody Loved Me” from Toy Story 2 lol)
One of those “Um AcTUaLly” bros who is always wrong about the thing they’re correcting you on to an absurd degree.
Somebody go teach grandpa how to use a computer.
Simeon
Has definitely given his computer a virus by clicking a popup ad, and also fell for the “Nigerian Prince” emails
“Do you think someone would just go on the internet and tell lies?”
No seriously he will see some wild conspiracy on Devilgram or Devilbook and be convinced it is real. Lord help him.
Definitely thinks Boomer memes are funny. Send him a minion, he will laugh his ass off.
Raphael
Elevator music playing in his brain at all times.
Immediately choses violence as an option every time no matter the circumstances and this is quite literally CANON.
Is always the last to know some secret that isn’t really a secret and is really obvious.
Will test the sharpness of his spears by jamming them into the ground, and then get mad when he cant yank them back up.
Luke
Just a poor child trying his best. Someone teach him.
Probably didn’t know what a chihuahua was when someone first compared him to one but was too embarrassed to admit he didn’t know so he just like. Went with it. Until he found out they are a tiny yippy dog- then he got angy.
Absolutely believes that babies come from the Stork.
Thought the “PG” movie rating meant “Pretty Good.”
Solomon
His cooking cant be that bad...can it?
Will throw quite literally anything into a pot when cooking, even if it doesn’t make sense to do so, because he likes to “experiment”
The first time he sees a fidget spinner he loses his fucking mind. “What is this? It’s spinning! I am in pure bliss!”
Has definitely blown up a classroom at RAD because he snuck in a potion to test out and accidentally dropped it.
Has definitely said some really outdated cringy slang. “Tubular!” “Oh man, so grody!”
Thirteen
Conspiracy theorist- for sure.
Didn’t believe that Belphie and Beel were twins because they didn’t look alike (she did not know fraternal twins were a thing).
Is convinced that Solomon is an alien.
Mispronounces words all the time because she rarely talks to others until the exchange program and primarily sees things written (e.g. Fragile as “Fra-gee-lay” and Bologna as “Bow-log-nah”)
Does not test her traps before using them, and gets mad when they don’t work.
618 notes
·
View notes
Viper for the King
CW: threats of non-con, possible death, ambiguous ending, torture briefly mentioned
You have been captured by the enemy with no chance of rescue. There will be no hail Mary operation to extract you and you are at the mercy of the enemy. König is the Colonel, in charge and the scariest person you have ever met.
He threatens to rape you to make you talk when no other form of torture works. His eyes light up at the prospect, thinking he may have found your weakness. You grin up at him with blood-coated teeth.
"Sounds like an interesting cultural exchange. Is that a European thing to brag about being so bad at sex that it's considered torture? Hmm.. anyway, go for it. This is getting boring anyway and I'm near outta fingernails as is."
"We will make you talk," he grinds out.
"Honey, I'll bet you can't even make me scream, let alone talk," you try to wink up at him through the blood and swelling on your face.
He admires your spunk and as much as he wants the information, he will be disappointed when you break as it means no more toying with you. No more carving his initials in your skin. No more spark in your eyes. Hell, you at least look him in the eye, none of his men dare to do that anymore. He has much more respect for you than anyone else he's ever met, he is surprised to realize.
"Do ya hide your face because you're so handsome it's a hazard or because it gives the men heart attacks in fear when they see it? Seems like it could be the latter, given the weak men you have working for you."
He stops the man to his left from striking you. He knows you're right about the quality of men. "I've seen your Ghost. Why does he hide his face? Afraid to be known?"
You chuckle back, spitting out a bit of blood to keep from choking on it. "Makes the girls swoon with his blinding smile. Gotta tuck it away or else he'd be mobbed."
"Ahh... pretty boy. Sounds just your style." He smirks as he goes over the roster of men in his head, thinking to exploit this possible weakness.
You look him up and down, eyes pausing to stare at his beefy arms and thighs. "Too skinny and small for my taste. I prefer... insertion specialists." You see his chest puff up and sigh dramatically. "Too bad the best ones are always the enemy. Though it feels almost as good to crush them under my boots. They never seem to expect it."
König knows you're flattering him on purpose. It's working. He just hasn't worked out why you would. You know he won't go easy, your body can already attest to that. Your voice goes quieter. "I've heard you're called a human battering ram. Wolf among men."
He whispers back, "does that make you the viper, spilling poison into my vein?"
You grin, "No. I'm the raven. Collecting shiny things to line my nest. Can't stand not having the best things to play with, no matter the cost."
He goes quiet, his eyes narrowed as he works out the double-meanings and weighs his options. I should shoot you for having the audacity to label me just another shiny thing, he thinks. But he still considers the offer.
You watch, letting him weigh the choice. Either he ends you now or he helps you escape. Staring him in the eyes, you cant your hips up slightly and lick your lip. If he takes the offer, you're eager to see if he can live up to the hype.
He chooses, unsheathing his firearm. He chooses you. He realizes there was no choice, really. A nebulous offer versus where he is now, feared, but bored. It is a hard choice to make. As he carries your limp body, he thinks about the initials he carved in your body. You will carry his brand to the grave along with his heart, because he will always be yours. He was right, you're a viper dripping poison in his veins and he couldn't get enough.
81 notes
·
View notes
[ @infernal-feminae || Continued From Here || Summer ]
[ Valentino ]
Typically, anyone who thought they could get away with something like that would have another thing coming. Valentino was not known for being very forgiving, or kind in the first place, and his temper was always one for the history books regardless of what it was over.
But Summer's voice, and her cute little purr, threw a wrench in the gears of his latest tantrum.
When he'd whipped around to see her, the glare from behind his glasses remained, but his scowl turned into a tentative grin. Last night's drunken monster movie marathon with Vox was still half sluggishly creeping through his bloodstream, and that was another thing that had saved her.
He was pretty sure he was still drunk.
"Mornin', Baby. You must feel pretty good," The uncertainty fell from his grin and he bent down to press a kiss between her eyes, "You want to make sure Daddy doesn't pass out and choke on his own tongue this mornin'?"
7 notes
·
View notes
{ through the most } “If you finish this one, you’ll win the eating competition Stan to Gregory
Feederism Prompts (pt 2)
[ @throughxthexmist || Stan ]
[ Gregory ]
“Ugh, I know...” Gregory belched behind his hand, uttering a soft ‘apologies’ to the man to his right. He recognized the portly older gentleman from his position at the grocery store, but couldn’t recall his name for the life of him right now. This was ludicrously embarrassing, but he’d wanted to partake in something that Stan might like.
This particular date was going in the record books of bad ideas.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can put away.” He added, leaning back in his chair and sipping on his water to try and give his dry throat a break. The pie was good, but he’d never eaten so much as he had today in his entire life.
If he was winning, however, he had to keep going. A Chadwick didn’t admit defeat period, even if it came to them, and if he had a chance at winning, then he would.
Leaning forward again, he drug the pie tin closer, starting with the crust around the lip and working inward from there. If he got the part he didn’t like out of the way, then the rest would be easy. That didn’t stop him from gagging, however, having to take a moment to compose himself.
0 notes
Random Eyeless Jack tongue hcs
Cw// kinda borders into suggestive territory if you squint, but nothing intentional? Writing this before actually putting down the hcs, but
Yeah
Nothing too crazy, obviously
Also cw// for body horror and shit since I also wanna dive into his whole.. how he got messed up
Getting the body horror stuff out of the way, I hope yall already know ab my whole curse hc/interpretation on jack
If you dont/if you're new; hi! Welcome to my blog! I hc that jack used to be a normal dude but got dragged into a cult that made him the way he is now!! Real important and relevant to my take on him/I haven't seen many other people use that spin on fan story for this sort of thing
Anyways
As per the whole "his body is shifting into something horrific," thing, his tongue literally. Splits into several tendrils
Havent decided on an exact number, but hes got.. a few alright!
Thick, but get thinner to the tips; and they have the same goop that leaks from Jack's eyes! Sensitive sense of taste; and he can kinda detect scents with them, like snakes do!!
His mouth is kinda crowded, though, so sometimes he'll talk with a bit of a lisp (?), or accidentally bite himself
Now onto the real horror; the process of his tongue splitting was painful, and long. He felt all of it, and given that he's literally turning into a man eating monster, he was unable to seek medical help; so he had to suffer alone and without aid
Obviously, if your tongue is splitting itself open, there's gonna be a mess plus lots and lots of pain
Poor dude
Moving on
They writhe
A lot
Especially when theres... food.. nearby; they tend to flick out (snake like!!!) If hes hungry (tends to lose himself for a while)
In the most sfw way I can say it because there is literally no way I can say it without being sus, they kinda??? Wrap around things??
Like okay I had an art idea, to draw jack with a blood-popsicle, since summer is coming; and with the previous hcs it'd make sense that his tongues would just naturally latch around it and grip said blood-pop
So that's my hc now
Also back to horror stuff i feel like that'd make his feeding frenzies all the more terrifying
I mean when he goes into one he completely loses all his humanity and thoughts and just jumps on someone
Imagine he latches onto someone and like
Idfk anchors them into the persons flesh so they cant just easily shove him off
That's terrifying
I love it sm
Downside; kissing jack is not fun since 1) it's a legitimate choking hazard, and 2) the goop makes his tongues taste gross
I feel like the goop is also, to a degree, corrosive
Or at least, an irritant
Like super powered saliva that can break down meat fast; also explains why I draw jack with huge dark circles n shit around his eyes
I bet yall (who follow my main) just thought I made him tired
Nope, it's his flesh being slowly burned away!! Granted hes more durable to it since the whole monster thing + it's his own material but
Still
So
Yeah!!!
Take what you will with these hcs
128 notes
·
View notes
Rayleigh - Drink
Reader style - Afab they/them
Time slot - After Hours
Client Name - @buttmishaaaa & @tenzeniths
CW: Alcohol, arm-spreader bar, power play
Notes: After a long series of unfortunate events this month, it's nice to be able to just sink into a thing. Cheers 😏
The long steal bar was attached to you at three places. Cuffs for either hand, and one padded collar that held your neck. The bar kept your arms out at head-level, almost completely extended. Just enough slack to allow you to relax.
Seated in a comfortable chair, the bar was used to tilt you back enough that your face was pointed toward the ceiling. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any stretch, almost a relaxing position. If you weren’t completely naked otherwise you could almost fall asleep.
Dozing off on Rayleigh, while he was preparing some drinks, in the middle of a session, would be a poor choice. You weren’t entirely sure what he had planned for you, but the best part about getting to spend time with him was that you knew you were in good hands.
No matter how little he explained, or what he had you to, the end result was always satisfying.
“My apologies for the wait, my dear.” He says, standing next to you with two drinks in his hands. “Uncomfortable anywhere?”
You shake your head a little, smiling. “No sir, it’s pretty comfortable, honestly.” You shift a little bit, feeling a rush run through you as his eyes wander away from your gaze and toward your body.
“Good,” he manages to purr the word before turning his attention to the small glasses of drink in his hands. “I made you a drink as well, but I do think it’s a choking hazard for you to try and drink it as you are.” His words are teasing, and you’re well aware that he had plans for that drink when he made it. “But, I also require the use of my hands.”
You could, easily and honestly, suggest he simply set it on the floor (oh but dear I wouldn’t set something meant for you on the floor), or the table (Ah, but I’m already here, sweet one). Instead you moved your hand a little.
“I could hold it for you, sir.” You offer, and the sly smile on his face sends more sweet chills through you.
“You’ll be good, and not spill any, right?” He inquires, setting one glass in each of your hands. “Ah, but it seems I have four.” He falsely laments, holding two more drinks in his hands. You have no idea where he had them before now, and your limited vision isn’t going to break whatever trick he’s using.
You think for a moment before opening your mouth. You open it wide, and he smiles as he sets the glass upright in your mouth, keeping it steady until you have hold of it well with your teeth, tongue and lips.
“You are truly a delight,” he praises you, stepping out of your very limited view - even more limited with the glass in your mouth now. “Stay still,” he warns before you feel cold liquid splash against your chest.
The contents of the one drink he kept, splashed against your neck and chest, coating your shoulders, staining the plush chair, and dripping down your body. You flinch a little, muffled surprise as you focus on keeping the glasses steady.
You can feel Rayleigh grip the arms of the chair, his breath hot against your skin and cold against the alcohol. “A good drink is ever sweet, but drinking it thus,” he husks, tongue hot and heavy against your collarbone as he licks your skin. “Is truly divine.”
Your moans shiver into the bottom of the glass in your mouth as Rayleigh’s tongue travels along your neck, against your shoulders, and down to your chest. He licks each nipple carefully and thoroughly, nipping at your flesh if you squirm too much.
He kisses and licks your sides, taking his time as your own breaths become heavy and desperate, breaking free around the glass held in place more by your teeth than your lips.
You want to whine, to beg, to plead. You want to let him know how good it feels as clearly as you can, but the glass limits you. It’s a hard material, not a gag you can growl around, or speak against. You cannot thrash your body or your head to throw off the building pleasure, or you risk spilling drinks that aren’t yours to spill.
His tongue laps at the fold of your hips to your thighs and you nearly cry.
He moves your legs with a soft warning before doing so, and you can feel his breath against the rum-soaked hair of your pussy. You pray you can keep all three glasses under control, as he promises to be thorough.
29 notes
·
View notes