#fuckable old man of the day

[fuckableoldmen]

Today's fuckable old man of the day is:

YOU

You are now old and fuckable!

#fuckable old man of the day #april...... fools

[steevejr]

on one hand, it would be funny if Eniki "25 year old who is basically immortal" was a 70 year old virgin but on the other hand it would be even funnier if he was like yeah i'm 10 times divorced lol i dont know how this keeps happening lol

#“after the 4th divorce i realzed /i/ was the problem” #eniki #< worlds most fuckable old man #a day in the life of steeve

[emperorundying]

TLT Dash Simulator pt 3

🪦 crossedrhodes Follow

just found out my gf died 7 months ago and ive been being catfished by some necromancer using her beguiling corpse i hope the devils get me

💊 heptanary-secretary Follow

omg imagine the meetcute tho... op talk to the necro

🐮 hucowjimin Follow

OP has powerful necro baddies in his area and is abt to fumble due to the grief

( 577 notes )

🦴 femur-i-hardly-know-er Follow

( 18,012 notes )

🗝️ darkjackgaius Follow

my horny ass could never be a flesh magician

🗝️ darkjackgaius Follow

easy website.

( 41,902 notes )

💣 fuckable-fascists-bracket Follow

📜 sarpedonefang1rl Follow

and whos fucking surprised. of course the recency bias strikes again

⚜️ awes-ashtray

Some1 is angry their old man bias is unfuckable 💀💀💀 Argue with the wall.

#a vote for awe is a vote against coquetteposters #the fact that therez an entire fandom for the weirdo oldhead fascies is soooo craz to me ngl. #we r voting on most fuckable here. that is da blogs point. #your blorbo is geriatric his dick dont work :(

( 6,192 notes )

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

I’ve seen a lot of bad information circulating about what happens when the cohort converts a thalergenic planet to a thanergy planet so I wanted to clear up some misconceptions ^u^

Converting a planet does NOT make it unable to sustain life. If thanergenic planets couldn't sustain life, no1 would be able to live on the nine houses!!!

The wildlife does NOT get mutated. How would that even work? I stj people they don't hurt the wildlife, they only affect the planets! The 'varmints have best friends' campaign is honestly just in bad faith :((

Devils are NOT real and if they were you should really stop posting about their tongues [weird!] U guys really cannot tell what is and isn't fearmongering these days and itz kind of concerning ngl

Keep reading

💀 towerofficial ☑️

worth a read :)

🐱 cohortcatgirl Follow

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

#HAIII MR UNDYING :3

(9,114 notes )

⛓️ siphonslut

being held down by my bone magician's constructs is something spiritual fr. skeledoms there is a special place for you in the emperor's eyes 😩😩😩

#nsft #c4n #cav4necro #osseoromantic

( 241 notes )

👤 is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet-deactivated-2917483

nope.

💀 towerofficial ☑️

It's in the name how are you guys not getting this by now

👤 is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet-deactivated-2917483

💀 towerofficial ☑️

mods can we ban this guy

( 12,187 notes )

#SORRY THESE R WAY TOO FUN TO MAKE #the locked tomb #dashboard simulator #dash simulator #gideon the ninth #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #gtn #htn #harrow the ninth #ntn spoilers #john gaius #kiriona gaia #ianthe tridentarius #ianthe naberius #admiral sarpedon #THE PLANET PROPAGANDA ONE WAS @IHATETUCKING'S IDEA ty max my buddy max #gideon nav

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

┊┊ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. Aϝϝliƈƚiσɳ ┊┊ཻུ۪۪

彡 A Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Cursed!Male!Reader | SMUT 彡

＊ Contents ; Obsession, stalking, masturbation, masochism, kind of non-con sleep blowjob, rough sex, murder, handjobs, and worshipping.

＊ Dynamic ; Soft Yandere/Admirer to Lover

＊ Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Gojo Satoru | Dom!Male!Reader

＊ P.O.V ; Third

＊ Age Range ; 18+ (This is younger Gojo by the way.)

＊ Music suggestion ;

┌──────── • ✧ • ────────┐

Satoru was a man of many. Intelligent, charming, unserious, and funny; he had no problem with meeting people outside and inside of school. Rather, he had quite a bit of friends, set up the day he was born with everything he needed for a social life. Handsome, strong, and labeled better than everyone else. That was him. And he knew this very well.

It was no secret that he took advantage of it. In his spare time, Gojo was known for hooking up with various women and men like it was some sort of fun game where he needed to collect as many bodies as he could. Just to be on top of the ‘Who’s most fuckable pyramid?’. It was his thing. He was number one. He needed to have everything. Just, because, he was Gojo Satoru.

Many spread the word on how he was in those behind-the-scenes exchanges, his fucking skills not short from all his other accomplishments, perfection at its finest. And one thing that was the most mentioned about the sorceror was how no one… NO ONE… could get him to fall for them. No matter how many times they gave him gifts, no matter how much they followed him, he never looked their way once after they got alone for a simple bang.

Instead, they’d be the ones to fall head over heels and never got over the rejection. That was his specialty. The reason why he gained a fan base. And he was flattered by it. Amused even. But, it never convinced him to get with any single one of them. That would never happen in a million years.

After many shunned attempts from his classmates, old friends, and one night stands to get with him on a relationship level, they assumed that Satoru was full-on Aromantic. That the man loved himself too much to get something like a crush. Or he was in a completely different world than them because of his power.

Those weren’t the real reasons as to why Gojo wasn’t interested in them, however. He just didn’t feel drawn to that vulnerability. How they were so easy to figure out with a simple look from him. Knowing everything like this was the biggest challenge for him. He was stuck, endlessly bored because all of his options were predictable, and not one of them entertaining enough. No threat. That’s how it was.

Until sophomore year of the Jujutsu college was when he came across someone out of the ordinary in the school hallway. He happened to be a new student, transferring from a completely different part of the world, and the amount of cursed energy leaking from his aura made the sorcerer stop in his tracks.

When the man turned to look down directly into Satoru’s eyes as he walked past him, it sent shockwaves through his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. For the first time in his life, he found somebody that he was unable to read.

At first, he was in denial about it. He couldn’t understand why one person would be different from the rest when it came to his perception. So, to figure it out, he began to follow the guy around.

Don’t ask why he didn’t approach him first, he didn’t know why, but he couldn’t. His heart would beat irregularly and he’d start to sweat, his entire chest and face heating up if they locked eyes at all. Maybe it was because his [E/C] orbs were intimidating or because he was extremely fucking good-looking. Maybe both. All he knew was that he never experienced it before and that was terrifying.

He started with small stares from afar, prop up near the places he would spot him and watch what he would do for several minutes. Waiting until he left to walk right behind him and see where else he would go.

So far, he was about as normal as anyone else in routine. He’d walk to his classes, do his work, and focus hard on his studies throughout lunch. Burying his nose in books upon books that the white-haired man would never pick up. Yet, what he found intriguing was his lack of interest in others.

The man didn’t socialize, ever. He would get up from his seats and tables whenever somebody would sit next to him. If they tried to talk to him, they were ignored like they were a wall. He’d ignore them, throw their notes to him in the trash, and any project he was assigned to was made for him to be alone. It was almost near impossible to grab a name. Thankfully, the system needed it to enroll and that was easy to get to.

Now, he knew that it was wrong of him to invade his personal space and illegal. But, Gojo had a severe problem with boundaries and it didn’t help that he could get away with it by teleporting. Also, he just didn’t care. A little curiosity never hurt him.

Eventually, he got to rummaging through the school records in the late hours of night, finding a file containing a name he didn’t recognize, ‘[L/N] [F/N]’. Pulling it out of its box, he opened it to check the picture and came face-to-face with a question mark box in place of it. His eyebrows furrowed and he scanned through the rest of what was listed about him.

The description of his features and classes were all there, things that he already knew, the basic stuff. But, this confirmed that [F/N] was his name and that’s all that mattered. Satoru was about to close the document and put it back before he glanced down at a small paragraph that read:

‘[L/N] is reserved to be under tight supervision and security conditions. He shall never be allowed to leave the city or Jujutsu without permission. If it falters, we will initiate our final plan.’

He narrowed his glowing blue eyes at the ominous writing, thumbing over the edges of the page while he thought to himself quietly, ‘I wonder… Is he as good as me?’ That idea crossed his mind and didn’t leave him alone. ‘Someone stronger than me… Is that possible?’ His fingers folded the paper back to where it belonged while trying to ignore himself, tucking it safely, and closing the drawer to make it look like nothing was tampered with. Then he turned around to get to heading out, not seeing the large figure looming in the shadows behind him.

It was by the time Gojo hopped out of the window he used to break into the room, that he realized [F/N] was plaguing every corner of his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. Like his face was burned into his memory.

His gloomy, [E/C] eyes that bore a hole through him whenever he caught his attention. That sharp nose that gave him an edge, scrunched up at anyone that passed by. Plump, pouty lips that would frown as soon as he was being bothered. God, and that soft red tone resting in the middle of them, it made him think of the worst perverted things he could possibly come up with.

Satoru was tripping over his feet trying to get back to his dorm room, using the roofs of buildings, and traveling at a rate he could when dealing with a boner this bad.

Finally, right as he stumbled into his place, he began unbuckling his belt and sliding it off to throw it loosely onto the floor somewhere. He got most of his clothes off of him and left his boxers to be the last thing pulled off, his dick springing free and brushing over his lower stomach before he wrapped his slender hand around the base.

He played with his tip for a minute, beads of pre-cum sliding down and coating his fingers. Letting him cover his shaft the more he pumped. It was throbbing, blushing pink like cotton candy, and glistened in the moonlight of his room. And oddly enough, all of this was being done to a fantasy of sucking [F/N] off.

Gojo had never touched himself to someone individually before. Especially to someone he hadn’t hooked up with. And not in a way where they were on top or it wasn’t solely based on sex.

This was new to him and he was losing himself to it, badly. His hips thrusted upwards into his hand, the other one reaching up to his mouth so he could suck on his fingers and coat them with spit. Finishing getting them wet, he positioned two of them against his hole and slowly forced it inside.

He closed his eyes and imagined it was [F/N]’s, groaning at the abnormal feeling of being finger-fucked but enjoying it more than anything else. It barely took a couple of times of ramming them in before his cum began to spurt out in huge amounts. Decorating both his stomach and his hand in a stringy design.

After that night, Satoru came to a conclusion on how he felt about the [H/C]-haired man. This proved to be very, very frustrating.

The urge to see [F/N] was constant. It got so bad that he was leaving zero to little time for his friends, spending most of it on lingering near his newfound crush and drooling over any tiny thing he would do. And this went on for weeks.

Until one day, his obsession hit an all-time high. He was following him into the locker rooms like usual, having memorized this to be his routine whenever he was going to get ready for training. Although, to his disappointment, the guy would use his shirt and towel to cover himself when he changed. So he never even got a single peek.

But, today seemed to be different because [F/N] didn’t head toward his locker. He went in the direction of the showers, carrying a couple of items with him that looked like clothes and necessities. Excitement and nervousness rushed through Satoru. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was going to get to see the man in all of his glory.

To keep himself from being detected, he was suspended in the air near the ceiling in a sitting position, patiently watching him arrange the shampoo and conditioner bottles before gripping the hem of his black fitted shirt.

[F/N] stripped it off of him, going at a slow pace that was teasing the hell out of him. Gojo was on the edge of his seat as he took in every bit, biting his bottom lip when he got to his pants and slipped them off of his slim waist. His build was impressive and so was his stature, enough to make Satoru draw blood from how hard he was digging his teeth in.

It wasn’t surprising that the white-haired man went straight to unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard-on into view. Watching how he washed his body and cleaned his hair, struggling to hold in his moans while getting off to the sight. He barely got past five minutes before he was cumming mid-air, the droplets landing in the corner and making a bit of noise, causing Gojo to abruptly rush out of there as soon as he saw him turning his head.

His back was pressed against the wall on the other side of the showers, his chest moving up and down, the butterflies in his stomach swarming. He reached down to tuck his dick back in and zip it up, glancing at his hands that were dirtied with his jizz. Satoru sighed, in disbelief at his own actions before he went for the nearby sinks to wash them off.

Just as he did that, the shower was turned off and out stepped [F/N] a minute later. He passed by him while he was drying his hands off, causing Gojo to tense. His beating heart hadn’t even calmed from what happened not too long ago, he couldn’t handle this. So, he spun around and bolted for the door faster than the two of them could speak.

A small smirk quirked up the side of the [H/C]-haired man’s mouth, his gaze drifting toward the disappearing back of him, smug with a glint in his eyes.

Eventually, days had passed and Satoru was still in the same routine with chasing around his crush everywhere. Except it spread to him casually visiting his place in the middle of night to spend the rest of it either watching him sleep or pleasing himself outside of his window.

There would be times where he would break in and take his things to use like boxers and lotion. But, he tried to make it unnoticeable. He cared about stealth. That was until one of those nights, [F/N] decided to wear nothing but underwear.

Gojo’s blue eyes were glued on his figure, feeling like it was his lucky day to get to see something as rare as this. He was used to him wearing tank tops and basketball shorts, a small peep of his waistband was the most action he’d get if the man happened to move. Getting too excited, he was already sliding his sweatpants to his knees, shoving a hand in to get to jerking off for the millionth time. He couldn’t get tired of it when it came to him.

But before Satoru started, he realized that the window had been cracked open slightly. It was left open. Open…

He stopped what he was doing to push the rest of it upward, climbing inside of the tidy room and shutting it right after. The warmth and the quiet atmosphere invited him in, making him almost feel at home. That wasn’t wrong considering he was found in this place daily, scouring and finding out any thing that he had in this room. Which wasn’t much. Only thing that he was interested in was the locked box under his bed. Though, he couldn’t bust it no matter how hard he tried.

Looking down at the peaceful, sleeping [F/N] made his mind wander to a darker side of lust, his orbs brightening like diamonds as he let his sweats drop to the floor along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and lifted himself using his ‘Infinity’, hovering over him and getting the real picture of their size difference.

Gojo steadied his breathing as best as he could while flicking his eyes over his boxers, peeling them off bit by bit. He had to be extremely slow, careful than ever. Because if he woke up, who knows what would happen to him? And that risky feeling was more than enough fuel for the sex-crazed man.

Once [F/N]’s dick was exposed, Satoru had expected to see it flaccid, but it was already halfway hard. ‘Hm? Is he having a wet dream?’ He came to that conclusion. His excitement worsening because of the assumption and ended in him jumping the gun. He lowered down to where his tip was, giving a small kitten lick and watching his expression to see what would happen.

He knew it was a terrible idea to do what he was planning on. But, he didn’t want to stop what he was doing either. Actually, the fantasy of him finding out was really hot to him. What would he do? Would he get upset? Degrade him a bit? He was sure he could get off to that too.

[F/N] furrowed his brows a little and a noise similar to a grunt came from him, letting Gojo have the clear to go further. He placed his entire tongue on it, swirling around the head of his dick at a medium pace, and tasting his salty pre-cum with a satisfied look on his face. God, how long had he wanted to do this? He couldn’t keep track. It wasn’t that long of a wait but to him, it was like he served decades in prison, being teased with the keys in the cell next to him.

More grunts slipped past [F/N]’s pretty lips, falling onto his ears, and encouraging him to take more into his mouth. He hollowed out his cheeks while bobbing his head up and down to give the finishing touch, pulling out his phone at some point to snap a thirty second video of what he was doing for safekeeping. Every sound of his was making his own cock leak with arousal, dripping onto his bed, and reminding him that he needed attention too.

He dropped the device to move his hand back down, stroking his shaft and playing with the slit on his tip, muffling his moans on [F/N] and getting dirtier with the blowjob. His spit was running down the sides of him, messy and spreading around his mouth. The bobbing turned into a circle motion and he progressively got faster and faster. Feeling his dick twitching once he deepthroated.

The [H/C]-haired man’s legs lifted slightly, bending his knees while he thrusted upward. His eyebrows completely knitted together and his noises only sounding more intense. He was nearing his end, Satoru could tell. And it was then that he popped his mouth off, gasping for air, making his other hand wrap around to jack him off at a speed so quick that there was no time lost.

He stuck out his tongue and pressed it right against the landing zone, an odd euphoric look to his eyes as he soaked in the moment like it was his biggest achievement yet. That was until he saw those [E/C] ones piercing right back at him, the color of them being replaced with a… glowing, dark purple? What?

In an instant, Gojo’s hair was swept through and grabbed into a fistful, lifted off of him and thrown into the wall next to them with a force strong enough to cause him to go through it. His eyes went wide, staring directly at the frightened face of one of his classmates who was awoken by the loud impact and flying drywall. Barely a second into the exchange of words through looks with the girl, he was yanked back into the room, and the men rolled together onto the ground.

[F/N]’s palm slapped across his mouth, digging his thumb and all of his fingers into both of Satoru’s cheeks; turning him around to face towards his chest so he could pin him down better. His other hand was locked tightly in a grip around his wrists, both of his knees underneath his legs, his usual cold stare replaced by rage. And what he was hoping earlier felt heard all of a sudden.

There, he got to meet his crush for the first time and have that closeness he’d been hoping to get. Or just a simple word back. Something. He craved for his attention so bad that he could threaten him and it’d still satisfy his desire.

Gojo’s surprise slowly shifted into a wide smile, his eyes having a crazier spark to them while he giggled, figuring out what [F/N] had done. It was a trap.

The sound of a concerned voice interrupted before he could speak, “Gojo-kun? Are you okay?” Satoru mentally sighed, his expression dropping to half-lidded annoyed glare. He heard a brief slip of a laugh from [F/N] and raised his brows in shock, thinking he was amused by his face until he felt something pushing against his lower body, entering right inside of his hole.

No, he wasn’t laughing at that. He was laughing because he was enjoying the fact he was going to be exposed. Satoru should’ve been turned off by that, but rather he was loving it himself. He didn’t know why. This was so unlike the upcoming head of the Gojo clan. Although, he lost it already once [F/N] buried most of his thick length inside of him. His soul looked like it was being possessed, a purple glazing over his blue eyes.

Thankfully, he was stretched out by his fingers previously because the width of his cock was big enough to still make it feel uncomfortable. His thrusts rough as soon as he got most of it in. He didn’t think it would hurt this much, feel this amazing too. The combining sensations fucking with his brain and making him melt into the powerful man’s hold.

[F/N] was inside of his head. Literally. He could hear him whispering things in there through his technique, “You’re mine, Six Eyes. All of that cursed energy… It’s mine now.” Mind manipulation. That was his technique. He figured it out.

No wonder he couldn’t understand what it was at first. It was one of the main attributes of the special grade cursed object, ‘[M/N]’s Needles’. That means that the small marks on his forehead weren’t birthmarks, it was needles, deep into his own skull.

A smirk grew on the side of [F/N]’s mouth when he saw the ‘Aha!’ look across Gojo’s face, an extremely low, nerve-wracking voice coming out of him as he leaned right next to the white-haired male’s ear to remind him, “You’re not winning anything. I think I’d like to take your offer up on making you my new fuck toy.”

Then the aggressive fucking from before turned into straight abuse on him, Satoru’s expression twinging through a mixture of exasperation and pure bliss. Locking eyes with the same girl he’d been stressing about when his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. She choked up and took a step back, watching her peer get destroyed. But not for much longer because she mysteriously got warped into space, disappearing from the room without any explanation.

Gojo peeked back at [F/N], psychotically smirking and letting out a string of loud, slutty moans and groans. Not holding back because he knew that nobody could stop them. Especially with such a strong curse at his side. Despite his knowledge on what he was doing to him, he also made sure he could take control of the situation too. And what that means is he formed a pact.

The young sorcerer leaned forward, summoning most of his strength to give him a kiss, struggling to keep his eyes open anyway. [F/N] didn’t kiss back, knowing what he was up to the second he heard the thought from Satoru. But, he kept insisting, pushing his lips harder and harder against his.

There was several attempts at rejecting him, but it didn’t matter. Even as [F/N] gripped his ass harshly with both hands, dug all of his nails in, and tore his bottom lip up more. He continued to plant the same kiss, going so far and desperate that he started making out with him. It didn’t matter if he responded to it because Satoru wasn’t just doing it out of tricking him into this pact. This was love. Twisted, fucked up, love.

[F/N] pulled away for the twelfth time, panting and surprised that he was holding on for this amount of time. By now, they’d be falling apart and passing out. And he had even switched it to his most effective position. Gojo’s back was pressed up on the wall, arched and his legs wrapped around his waist, struggling to hold on from him being quite tall. His hand was wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard to the point where he was coughing, making sure that he didn’t lift himself to kiss him anymore.

“Do you want to get yourself killed? Or do you want to cum and survive, asshole?” [F/N] spat, getting up to his face in a threatening manner. Satoru smiled back at him once again, managing to choke a sentence out, “I want both… please!” He was teasing him even in this situation. The grip on his soul never wavering yet he talked back. This pissed him the hell off.

Every ounce of his strength raged into Gojo immediately after that, the wall caving in on them, and the sheer volume of both of their techniques fighting one another in the midst of their exchange. His crystal blues spaced out and tilted up, staring off as he fell limp in [F/N]’s arms, his forehead pressing against his to give one last attempt.

The [E/C]-eyed man couldn’t resist the temptation. He didn’t know why. He didn’t think about it. He just did it. His lips smashed onto Satoru’s expecting him to be drained of anything that he could use against him. But, he was wrong. Dead wrong. If anything, the fate had been sealed right then and there from that action.

A knot was forming in [F/N]’s and his stomach as he panicked about the failure when feeling his power fade along with Gojo’s, the smile from before planting against his face right in the kiss they had. He tricked him into it. He fucking cheated.

So much anger was rammed into Satoru for the next few hours even after [F/N] and him finished at the same pace. His guts practically being filled with his seed over and over, then rapidly having it fucked in until it couldn’t escape. He paid him back for what he did. For ruining everything he had by tying a commitment to him he didn’t want. Although, for some reason, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Possibly looking forward to their time together.

|| Extra ||

Satoru weakly smiled at Geto and shook his head, answering his question on where he’s been the last couple of months with a soft sigh, “I’ve been getting around a lot. When you have this many fans, it’s hard to keep up.” The black-haired man looked at him, unamused; poking at his noodles. His baggy eyes seemed to be getting worse. Shoko chimed in a smart comment, “Is that why you’re getting hickeys now? You letting someone top you?”

Gojo froze and snapped his head at her, his serious face causing her to began laughing like crazy and exclaim out loud, “No way! So, it’s true! You are being bottom!” He raised his hands in the air at her and waved them around while denying it profusely, “You think someone can get one over me? Gojo! Satoru! Do you not know my name? What kind of crazy lady are you, huh?!”

They bickered back and forth until Geto split the two of them up and decided it was time for all of them to go their separate ways. He waved ‘Goodbye’ as he walked away, slipping his hands in both of his pockets before turning his head to look in an alleyway that he was barely about to pass. For a split second, he was sure he caught a glance of purple eyes peering back at him, but when he checked again; there was nothing.

He looked at the dark midsection of the buildings, waiting to see if something else would happen, and then walked on as soon as it appeared to be his mind playing tricks on him.

Little did he know, that later on in that same alleyway, after Shoko left Gojo alone. He was being fondled by the curse he now claims as his forever boyfriend and ‘fuck buddy’ who stood there, eavesdropping on him the entire day.

They switch roles in following each other. Happening to be [F/N]’s day. And they both couldn’t hold back the urge of wanting to fuck the shit out of the other all the time. Satoru never reluctant to letting the man have his way. And as he let the blue-eyed man finish from his hand, he dug his teeth into his shoulder blade, mentally shouting at him in his head, “Who’s on top again, pretty boy?! What did you say to them again?” His cum spurted everywhere onto the floor and his fingers, those eyes rolling back like usual while he muttered, “You, sir…. Only, you.”

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk x male reader #gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru is a bottom #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #SoundCloud

[jeonlicious]

UNHOLY ; jeongguk

pairing: jeongguk x camgirl!reader

synopsis: ‘my pretty angel you sound so sweet for me.’

genre: smut

warnings: nipple piercings, overstimulation

word count: 750

author’s note: i had this in my drafts for FOREVER. anyways, i finally managed to finish this so if the end is bad im sorry. btw TYSM FOR 505 FOLLOWERS ILYSM I HOPE YOU HAVE/HAD A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!! english is not my first language.

series masterlist | part two

outfit? done.

hair? done.

sex toys? prepared.

camera? set.

Okay, let’s go. You said to yourself before starting the live stream, immediately people started joining, most of them were old perverts and some other people but there was a young man who always caught your attention.

His username was Jeon97 and lately he's been the best tipper. Sending you hundreds of dollars every time you started streaming, and he always left you a sweet massage like ‘you look so beautiful baby.’ or ‘my pretty angel you sound so sweet for me’

Sometimes you wish he was the only one watching so you could give him more of what you have to offer. But now you have to focus on your fans whoe were desparately waiting for you.

“Hey my loves, I missed you!” You cheered and your chat was filled with praises and heart emojis. Your eyes searched for the familiar name but they couldn't see it. He never missed your streams, maybe he was busy? A little disappointed you started to interact with the people in the chat.

You felt pleased with the compliments you got, especially on your outfit. You were wearing the new victorias secret valentines set which you received in your mail not so long ago. As much as you were surprised you also were a little scared, the thought that one of your fans knows where you live left an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

There were a lot of requests and suggestions for what you could do. But you felt a little tired so you chose one of your favorites. Your beloved vibrator. That small thing had so much energy that it had you cumming in seconds leaving you sensitive and overstimulated.

Hmm, how would Gukkies fingers feel li- No! Y/n focus!

While you were interacting with your fans and responding to the sweet praises Jeongguk’s phone rang with the familiar notification, if he wasn’t showering right now he would immediately open the app to see what you're up to. He quickly got out of the shower and dried himself with a towel.

He didn't bother to put on any clothes since they would be off in seconds anyway. When he came to his bedroom he opened the top shelf of his nightstand at took out the lube, he splattered a fat amount on his hand and started to pump himself, his other hand went to his laptop and turned on the live stream as quickly as possible.

When he saw you, in the set he sent you he almost came right there. You look so pretty in it, so fuckable, your pretty tits on display, the little silver bars decorating your erected nipples. Oh, how he wished he could suck on them, make you feel so so good, hear your whiny voice begging for him.

His hands pumped his cock while he looked at you. Your pretty eyes, lips, tits. Oh how he loved them, he always wished he could just bury his face in them and never come back for air.

“Oh fuck! Ah! Ah! Feels so good.”

His eyes focused on the way your pussy clenched around the pink bullet. Making you so fucking wet. Wet enough for him to slide his cock into you and fuck you till the sunrise.

• user Jeon97 sent 200 dollars!

“Aww, thank you Jeon,” You whined for the camera teasing your clit more. Jeongguks hand gripped his cock tightly as he fucked his fist. Your moans got louder as your pinched your nipples, revealing them to your fans.

Jeongguk threw his head back, whining and moaning your name. Only if you could hear him, take care of him, let him fuck you.

Soon he came, hard.

His stomach was covered in the sticky liquid, his abs glistening with sweat. He was breathless, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes fucked out but still. He had his eyes on you.

The whole time you were cumming he didn't dare to take them off of you, taking in the beautiful sight.

“That’s it for today my loves! See you next time!” You blew a kiss to the camera and turned off the stream. Jungkook lay in his bed staring at the ceiling when suddenly he heard the notification again. Another stream? No. Maybe a photo!

He quickly went for his laptop and opened the app, he expected everything but not this.

• SweetAngel sent a message!

‘thank you for being my supporter! here’s a little something ;)’

(open attachment)

© 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 2023. All rights reserved.

#𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jk #jeon jk #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jeonguuk #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #jk x reader #jk x you #jk

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Id love to see how DOG! Konig actually first saw Reader or even when he knew he fell in love with her <3

König saw reader first time on TV :)

It was one of those boring moments when the latest mission was done and he was coming down from his adrenaline/testosterone/cortisol high, channel surfing at the base with a blank stare.

He passed this one channel that never had anything worthwhile to watch, except this time—wait a minute—there’s some cute girl whipping egg whites there. He changed the channel out of habit but immediately changed it back again, his eyes boring to the screen where this woman was making lemon tartlets.

He pays attention to the nice voice… Nice lips… Her hands, very delicate when she decorates each tart with raspberries and mint leaves. It’s always hot in his opinion when a girl prepares dinner or dessert, and this cutie is doing both. She has a sad smile and a pair of depressed eyes, her body language reminds him of tortured prisoners on the brink of confession. The despair in her eyes resembles the look on women just before they cum, and it drives him fucking nuts.

She’s fucking perfect… So weak, just a poor little thing who’s trying to hide, probably hates the camera and her audience, every small prick she has to work for and with.

König binges her whole show within a few days from some streaming service, even faps during or after watching – just a few times because in a few episodes, they filmed her breasts and hands a lot, although it must be said it’s that helpless look in her eyes that truly makes him cum hard… He fantasizes about arriving at her studio with his guns blazing, wondering how she would react when he stains her cute little tarts with blood. How she would react when she sees a big, able man come to take what’s his – would she kneel and beg him to save her life, or would she gasp and look like a stupefied goldfish when he pulls his dick out after the bloodbath and tells her to give it a kiss?

Next thing he does is he googles her, finds a few articles in some lousy girl magazine where she mentions she has “learned to make peace with solitude” and that “time spent alone feels good nowadays”. Ja, sicher! Poor little thing is lying her eyes out, anyone can see that. She tries so hard to be brave, looks so fuckable when she sighs and looks down at the food she just made like it’s the only thing in this world she can do right. Just cook some food and decorate dumb pastries, looking like a spoiled little princess while she’s doing it.

He gets his hands on the actual, physical articles and keeps them in his locker because they include pictures of her. Finds her on social media and looks at her Instagram feed first time in the morning and last time before bed, chuckling to himself from how pathetic she is, so fucking desperate to get attention... He has a collection of screenshots on his phone: one of his favourites is, surprisingly, not a picture of her delicious ass, trying another dumb hobby that’s supposed to be trendy. It’s the one where she’s smiling at a big mug of coffee in front of her, looking like a cute little kitten who’s been offered a treat. Or her on the beach with a big straw hat on her head, looking at the waves and smiling a big, silly smile, her worries forgotten for a moment. Her at a party, all dolled up and practically begging to get fucked, holding the waist of some weak civilian he could kill with one punch.

But his ultimate favourite is a selfie she took while she was out on a walk. She’s without her makeup, wearing a simple old faded t-shirt, looking up at the camera with a fake smile and those sad, pleading eyes, silently begging for someone to take the pain away. She’s unprotected, and lonely, so pitiful that König would do anything to teleport beside her right now and haul her away like a sack of whimpering potatoes thrown over his shoulder.

Is no one going to fucking come to her rescue and spoil her to bits, is no one going to fuck those dumb little thoughts out of her head? What the fuck is wrong with men these days, he doesn’t understand, but he’s not going to watch this ridiculous shit for a moment longer…

(If you asked König when he realized he was in love with her, he would answer it was love at first sight. Or… maybe… that one time when she asked where she put the cream. She was talking to herself while the cameras were rolling, looking helpless, lost, and dumb because she literally had one job... König found that very endearing.)

#dog fic #stalker!könig

[chronically-ghosted]

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?” 

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.” 

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself. 

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion. 

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you. 

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?” 

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall. 

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?” 

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that. 

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin? 

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more. 

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came? 

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.” 

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking. 

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball. 

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” 

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest. 

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled. 

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed. 

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.” 

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts. 

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough. 

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress. 

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.” 

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again. 

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring. 

“It, uh, popped.” 

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?” 

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall. 

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook. 

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist. 

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you. 

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!” 

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.” 

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing. 

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more. 

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?” 

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter. 

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back.  “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” 

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?” 

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.” 

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.” 

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?” 

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly. 

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release. 

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.” 

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door. 

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books. 

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?” 

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better. 

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?” 

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all. 

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.” 

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo. 

Funny how that all fucking worked out. 

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off. 

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.” 

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh. 

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,” 

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.” 

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest. 

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.” 

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.” 

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear. 

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.” 

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded. 

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot. 

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night. 

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn. 

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you. 

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,” 

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.” 

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar. 

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.” 

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life. 

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm. 

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you? 

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once. 

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and – 

Does not find a bra. 

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open. 

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him. 

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure. 

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”   

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits. 

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it. 

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head. 

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him. 

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?” 

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely. 

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror. 

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you. 

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo. 

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress. 

“C’mere, baby girl–,” 

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his. 

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air – 

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses. 

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder. 

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.” 

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are. 

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches. 

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl. 

God, he’s so hard it hurts. 

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try. 

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.” 

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass. 

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him. 

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan. 

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched. 

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all. 

Families share similar insecurities, after all. 

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts. 

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,” 

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain. 

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales. 

Girlsex. 

Girlsweat. 

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell. 

He wants . . . to put his dick into something. 

But first – 

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan. 

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal. 

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top. 

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent. 

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have. 

Even when you left him, you’d never forget – 

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip. 

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple. 

Settle down. We’re only just getting started. 

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next. 

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you. 

Oh my God, duh, fingers. 

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed. 

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt. 

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him. 

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like– 

Do not fucking come right now. 

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.” 

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off. 

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.” 

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it. 

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee. 

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher – 

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open. 

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you. 

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.” 

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you. 

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation. 

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness. 

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress. 

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain. 

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it. 

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear. 

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes. 

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it. 

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.” 

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock. 

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once. 

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.” 

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick. 

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more. 

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears. 

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. 

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much. 

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned. 

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast. 

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.” 

I want to die in this cunt. 

“So good, baby.” 

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you. 

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance. 

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees. 

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders. 

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it. 

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips. 

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing – 

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.” 

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours. 

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point–  all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.” 

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw. 

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you. 

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you. 

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes. 

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him. 

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.” 

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet. 

“David.” 

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood. 

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.” 

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.” 

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest. 

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears. 

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard. 

“Holy shit.” 

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps. 

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.” 

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are. 

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.” 

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.” 

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him. 

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant. 

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece. 

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.” 

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple. 

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.” 

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase. 

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests. 

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets. 

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip. 

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.” 

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize. 

 You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once. 

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.” 

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone. 

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty. 

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off. 

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this. 

I never want to see you again. 

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%. 

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame. 

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside. 

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean. 

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?” 

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap. 

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.” 

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .” 

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.” 

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all. 

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but. 

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table. 

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist. 

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.” 

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face. 

“Guess so.” 

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him. 

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling. 

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic

[teyamsatan]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xxɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴠᴇʀ

pairing: dilf!jake x omatikaya!reader

➽ words: >800 words

➽ a/n: i honestly don't know if i should keep writing these, but i couldn't help myself with this one. dilf!jake thoughts will what do what dilf!jake thoughts do best, it's like a trance taking over me.

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: pet names (doll, kid)

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

Your muscles are aching and sore, a common occurrence recently, since the Olo’eyktan has decided everyone needs to work harder to pull their weight, to ensure the clan is ready for the inevitable offensive onslaught brought about by the demons coming from the stars above. It’s been non-stop, the training and drills, your body so drenched in mud at all-times, it almost became a second skin. You can feel your satin top clinging to your form, perfectly moulded to the shape of your breasts, accentuating your hardened nipples and your flawless, fuckable little body. 

Jake felt like such a perverted old man, staring at you making your way to the riverbank, no doubt trying to wash away the day, trying to loosen the tight knots in your shoulders and back. It was so strange - never before has Jake found someone to look somehow even better all disheveled and muddy, but there you were, a beautiful doll with the most perfect tits in the world and an ass that was begging for a thick cock to sit on. Luckily for Jake, he had some time to spare and just the perfect solution to… loosen you up after such a hard day.

You jumped a little as you noticed how close the Olo’eyktan has gotten to you, his musky, earthy, woody scent inundating your senses and making slick pool in your already clinging tewng. It was hard, being close to him. You tried to avoid it, because you hated feeling week, or like a child, but around him, taking in his rugged beauty and his muscular, strong body, bulging muscles always on display, thick thighs almost calling out for you to ride them, dragging your soaking folds against the tight, taut, azure skin until the pressure exploded all around you... let's just say all rational thoughts went swiftly out the window.

"Alright there, kid? I didn't work you too hard now, did I?"

"N-no, sir."

"Sir?" His eyes bore into your own, and you couldn't break away from his gaze, preying and teasing, intense and fascinated. He swirled the word around his tongue like a precious liquor, before he made his appraisal. "I like that. Sounds good coming from your lips."

It took no time for him to join you in the river, the icy temperature of the water not eliciting as much as a bat of an eyelash to this hardened specimen of a man.

"Let me help get you cleaned up, what d'you say? It's the least I can do after pushing you so hard these past few weeks."

His muscles tense as he sits down, the water falling in a tumultuous stream as it hit his back. He pats his lap lazily, welcoming you in between his legs. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight, at the way he was maintaining eye contact, at the way he was devouring you with his darkening stare.

"C'mon, doll. I won't bite, I promise."

Unable to resist any further, you oblige, turning your back to him and dropping until you were perched in between his thighs, allowing the water to submerge you to your collarbones, feeling your nipples harden again, as you struggled to adjust to the coolness of the river.

"There you go, good girl."

He took no time in reaching across and caressing your body with his huge hands, moving them across your abdomen and back in soothing motions that did wonders for your tense disposition, making you instantly forget that you were in public, and that anything too conspicuous would inevitably be visible to all the other Na'vi scattered across the ever-moving body of water.

You moan and keen into his touch, throwing your head back as his fingers find the sensitive skin of your breast, kneading them carefully, catching your erect buds in between his thumb and index finger, twisting and pulling. The sensation was intoxicating, heightened by the hard-on pushing against your aching, desperate, needy cunt and the way his tongue was dragging across the nape of your neck. You start moving on his length involuntarily, dry-humping him through both your messy, wet loincloths.

"Let me take it off, baby girl. Need to feel you take every inch of my cock."

When his fingers wrap around the band of your tewng, undoing it expertly, you gasp - it was big, so big, bigger than you've ever imagined.. or ever had. You were almost scared, intimidated at the thought of being stretched by him, filled to the brim and split open until you were merely a toy, to be used and abused however he saw fit. There was excitement, too, stupid relief at the thought, at how it'd feel, at how good you'd feel.

"S-s'big, sir. 's not gonna fit."

As he dragged his tip across your folds, teasing you before pushing in just past the entrance, you mewl and push back into him, silently begging him for more.

"Shh, doll. So fucking needy, aren't you? So gorgeous, make an old man like me drop to my knees. Gonna look so good, bouncing up and down on daddy's cock."

taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eyweveng @tiredwitch1113@hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon

#lunaskinktober2023 #break my back like a glowstick daddy #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully fic #dilf jake sully #avatar smut #avatar twow #avatar #avatar fanfic #jake x reader #jake smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x yn #jake sully reader #avatar reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar jake #jake sully x y/n #jake sully drabble #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #step dad jake sully #stepdad!jake sully #dbf!jake sully #dbf!jake #lunaskinktober2023 re: teyamsatan #༊*·˚ andra's works #◘ andra's oneshots/drabbles

[cybersp4c3]

Hi. Scara nsfw alphabet, this is surprisingly my first time doing this I think?? Crazy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Scara just passes out immediately after sex but on the rare occasion he doesn’t, he’ll ask you for cuddles and kisses

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Scara loves his entire body!! He thinks he’s got the most fuckable body on earth and he’s right!! His favourite body part on readers would obviously be their massive dick, duh

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves cum!! Scara will let you cum in him anytime, if you use a condom he’ll drink all the cum out of it! If he’s sucking you off make sure to cum down his throat! He’ll clean it all up for you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to be called princess, doll, dear, and he’ll even let you refer to him as a good girl!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s 500 years old, he’s an experienced whore.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves any position that allows him to get absolutely dicked down like mating press and full-Nelson! He loves how deep your dick can go into his pussy and how he feels like he’s being bred

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes sex very seriously, like a job. Though, you could do whatever you want during sex he’s far too mindbroken to insult you for not taking sex seriously

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s a doll!! He doesn’t have body hair so he’s very well groomed!! But he does like seeing you with body hair (especially your cock)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not intimate unless you’re his husband or boyfriend.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Scara’s clit and nipples are so sensitive, he touches himself to the thought of getting impregnated and filled to the brim by a stronger man! Sometimes he’ll cry because his fingers aren’t big enough to replicate dick so he’d use multiple dildos at once…

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Scara has a lot! Breeding, degrading (receiving, giving), praising (receiving), noncon, etc. he’s into anything as long as it’s not scat…

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’ll do it anywhere with you! Just take him whenever and wherever you want! He’s just your obedient little sex doll. But his favourites are the bedroom or anywhere in front of a crowd

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing your big dick gets him going

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s up for anything,,, he wouldn’t do anything with a woman though or if he has to top/dom. If you even mention that to him you’re never going to see the light of day again

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving oral (especially to massive monster cocks) he’s really experienced so he can deepthroat and make you cum in an instant. He also likes receiving every now and then, he loves how people eat out his little pussy

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Scara likes it fast and rough!!! No stopping at all! Just fuck him hard, fast, and rough until he passes out

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Back in the fatui, all he could do was quickies. He’d let his subordinates and fellow harbingers take him anytime during, before, or after a mission! But he didn’t want to get caught so it had to be quick!

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll risk anything if it means he can get dicked down by you!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last for a minimum of 20 rounds due to dottore’s tinkering…buttt hw can go for much longer if you want to

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has an entire collection of toys! Dildos, vibrators, anal beads, fuck machines, etc. anything you can think of, he has it!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease! If you want him to ride you, he’d tease you a little by rubbing his clit or ass on your cock for awhile before taking it…but he hates when you tease him

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If he’s in the bedroom he won’t hold back any moans, if he’s out in public he’d try his best to be quiet

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Scara has spidey-sense for dick. He can tell your exact dick size just from seeing your bulge…

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Small but perky boobs, a small waist, some belly chub, wide hips, thick and plushy thighs, a fat ass, and ofc a plump pink pussy for you to destroy

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Extremely high

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how hard and rough the sex was

[fuckableoldmen]

Today's fuckable old man of the day is:

MEDIC!!! IT'S MEDIC TF2!!! HE'S THE FUCKABLE OLD MAN!!!

#hooray! #fuckable old man of the day #medic tf2 #medic #team fortress 2

[captainjunglegym]

WIP Wednesday - 10/04/2024

Hello! So i'm balls deep in og 911 atm. I've already seen seasons 1 - 4 but I'm rewatching so I can power through and be all caught up to season 7 soon.

Anyways I have been tagged by @onthewaytosomewhere @getmehighonmagic @firenati0n and @wordsofhoneydew thanks my buddies <3

I have a new silly wip I'm working on. I do have other things that are cooking but you've heard it all before so have this:

Alex works at a hotel to put himself through law school. After spending so much time at the hotel he's become somewhat of a serial wedding crasher. One day he crashes the wedding of an odd but adorable couple, George and James. Unfortunately, George's twin, Henry, catches him in the act but seems rather amused by it all.

The couple seem a bit mismatched. One man, wearing a dark green velvet tuxedo jacket that looks as expensive as it does soft, is older and red-headed. He’s sexy in the way that Alex can tell beneath his tux he’s got a strong muscled body. He’s looking at his young new husband with something akin to utter adoration. The other groom is a lot younger. Possibly in his mid-twenties as opposed to the other’s possible fifties. He’s probably the most beautiful man Alex has ever seen in his life. He’s got dark brown hair that contrasts against his porcelain skin, and the poutiest pink lips. He looks like a living doll. Alex watches them sway with one another on the dance floor as he piles more food onto his plate. They're completely enraptured by each other. Is he jealous? Maybe. He doesn’t really want to marry an old man though, even if this particular old man is quite fuckable. “Hello,” a smooth voice says next to him. Alex doesn’t look away, not really wanting to invite conversation with eye contact. Not while he's technically stealing. “Hey.” “I’ve not seen you before,” the man continues. He’s got the same crisp English accent as many of the other guests. “Are you here for George or James?” Alex winces internally but feigns nonchalance as he continues to shovel various foods onto his increasingly full plate. He hates this question and has no idea which is George and which is James and what the correct answer will be. “Uhhhh George. Yeah George, me and him go way back, you know? We’re practically brothers.” The man huffs out a laugh and Alex chances a look at him. He double-takes. The man next to him is just as gorgeous as the younger groom. Mainly because he’s identical to him, save for the blonde hair. “I’m Henry,” the man says, amused. “I’m George’s twin and the best man.” Oh fuck.

No pressure tags under cut + also open tag as always

@bigassbowlingballhead @anincompletelist @nocoastposts @sunnysideprince @eusuntgratie @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @sparklepocalypse @happiness-of-the-pursuit @magicandarchery @cactusdragon517 and anyone else who wants a go

#writing tags

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Girls Tournament Bracket

Hi there! Self-explanatory title, but this is an Autistic Anime Girls Competition! Here we strive to determine: Who is tumblr's top anime girlie on the spectrum? Though I'm using 'anime' as a general term, characters from print media (i.e. manga, manhwa, manhua), ‘anime-style’ webcomics and games, and from non-Japanese East Asian animation like donghua and hanguk aeni are welcome as well.

Some stuff to know:

The character does not have to be canonically autistic (though canon autistic rep is very much appreciated). Headcanons are allowed and expected.

You can submit as many characters as you like, but do not submit the same character multiple times.

Though I love them, autistic girls from western animation are not allowed in this particular competition.

This competition will be a more relaxed schedule than my last tumblr poll, so that I don't stress and overstretch myself, haha. I may take a few days' break between rounds instead of instantly releasing the next batch of polls right away. This should also help keep the blog from getting shadow-banned.

Submit characters through the designated Google form. Any sent through asks/messages/any other means will be ignored and you’ll be kindly redirected to the form. Just keeps things more organized this way.

Don't be a dick if your fav loses. Please. Let's all be civil here and have a good time. Doing tumblr polls is entirely for fun!

Definitely send propaganda for the contestants! I love hearing people infodump about their favs.

I think that's all for now... you can submit below until September 8th. Good luck and may the best autistic anigirlie win!

TAGGING OTHER POLL BLOGS BELOW THE CUT

@ultimate-anime-tournament @pinkhairswagtourney @canonmisogynyvictimstournament @gayelderstourney @generic-anime-boy-bracket @fuckablemeowmeowbattle @moon-swag-tourney @animemusicbrackets @best-transgender-character @bisexualdivorceebattle @irritable-bowel-showdown @gentle-giant-swag @transandautisticswagcompetition @transgenderswagincartoons @victimsofyaoipoll @tummy-troubles-tourney @chuunibyou-showdown @ocd-character-polls @tournament-winners-tournament @found-family-tournament @christ-figure-bracket @headachebattle @rock-swag-tournament @bestshipsmackdown @queerprotagonistshowdown @titular-twins-tournament @character-of-all-time @white-boy-bracket @ultimate-poll-tournament @autismswagsummit @transgenderautisticbracket @fuckable-old-man-battle @beefy-babe-showdown @cringefaillosersummit @homoerotic-shonen-rival-showdown @autisticgirliesbracket @emoboybattle

#tumblr polls #tumblr competition #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #anime #autistic anime girls poll #information #submission post #fyi

[ilovebeabadoobee06]

ONE OF YOUR GIRLS

spencer reid x reader

sub!spencer x dom!reader (minors dni) lowkey shitty writing, hand job, smut, overstimulation, use of y/n, smut writen by a 18-year-old virgin.

Spencer’s feeling a lack of intimacy, his roommate Y/N is excited to enlighten him on what he’s been missing.

a/n: this is my first post. plsssss give me feedback if you feel comfortable!

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

SPENCER WORDLESSLY FLIPPED THROUGH THE PAGES OF HIS BOOK, as he layed in bed.

the sounds of y/n’s moans and cries achoed quietly throughout the apartment. even with his door closed it was apparent what she was up to. it irritated him to say the least, the many nights of the week she spent with her random hook ups. but deep down he knew, he just jealous that at her age she was getting those kinds of experiences and he barely did.

it felt like an enternity later when he heard the heavy foot steps of the guy and then the sound of front door closing in the kitchen. he let out a low sigh of relief and closed his book to check on y/n. he always did this since the assholes she hooked up with didn’t seem to know what aftercare was.

“hey.” he called waking into the kitchen, taking in her appearance as she stood by her bedroom door. her soft curly hair was all tussled and pulled and her pink lips were swollen. she wore a big blue sleep shirt, that swallowed her whole and little sleep shorts. she looked up at him through her long flowing lashes. she was always so pretty, it never failed to make his knees feel like jello. “hey.” she rasped in her low angelic voice.

“need anything?” he asked as he padded over to the fridge.

“mmmm, can you get me a water?” she replied. she looked him over and her eyes trailed to his white marvel t-shirt and plaid pajamas pants. it was refreshing for her to see him in lounge clothes, since she hardly ever did.

he turned his head and handed her a water with a little side smirk. “that’s what i was gonna do,” he chuckled and grabbed one for him self.

she took a good, long sip and place then bottle on the table.

“so how was work?” she leaned her body against the counter causally, crossing her arms.

“good. pretty uneventful.” he matched her stance and looked at her. she nodded taking another sip, not really sure what else to say.

“how was that guy?” he asked, more in a curious, nosey-roommate way instead of jealous.

“he was okay, kinda overpowering. good kisser tho.” she said causally like it was normal to take about sex with your roommate the way they did. “his breath smelled like dr. pepper.” he smiled at the and shook his head.

“he kinda seemed like an asshole,”

she narrowed her eyes. “you didn’t even see him,”she playfully rolled her eyes.

“put i heard him. that’s enough to go off of, you forget i’m a profiler.” she shock her head with a smile, her body felt clearly wrecked but what bothered her most was how adorably fuckable her roommate looked right now with his fluffy hair, glasses and his pajamas. “whatever.” it was comfortably silent for a few moments.

he sighed. “well, im going to go bed. I’ll see you tomorrow y/n/n.” he gave her his signature smug smirk before ruffling her hair and heading to his room. she wordlessly smiled back with a little wave as she walked to her room.

that’s night she stayed up thinking about how she wished she could have just one night with the man across the hall, instead of these assholes form tinder she hooked up weekly.

life for her was pretty boring and uneventful unlike spencer. and yeah, maybe she had a tiny, baby crush on him. And sure, she masterbated to the thought of him on more than one occasion but she knew that he didn’t see her that way, and besides, he was basically celibate.

𒊹︎𒊹︎𒊹︎

the next morning she’d woke up and gone to work. she didnt get to see spencer before he left for work, but she knew that sometimes he’d get called in at the earliest hours of the day to work on case. some days he wouldn’t come home for days on his cases because he’d have to travel to an entirely different state.

the next time she saw her roommate was almost three days later, when she was came home from work she walked in and saw him passed out on the couch, still in his work clothes. she figured he probably felt to tired to even make it to his room and she couldn’t blame him. his job seemed like a lot.

she sighed in relief that he was finally home. she left her bag and keys on the table and walked over to him. she at least wanted him to be able to not wake up with back problems from sleeping in the couch.

“spence, wake up” she murmured softly as she kneeled next to couch and brushed his hair out of his face. his eyes fluttered open slowly. “hey.” she smiled

“hello.” he rasped tiredly. he sat up slowly.

“how was the case?” she got off the floor and sat comfortably next to him. he snuggled next to her and wrapped his long arm over her shoulder. “it was fine.”

she furrowed her eyebrows at his lack of a response. “you sure?” she asked specially. it was silent for a moment.

“yeah, it just made me realize i need to get layed.” the case was unlike any, that he had before. it’s was stressing beyond a simple minds belief, and by the time all he could think when he made it back to his hotel room was how he need to blow off some steam. preferably inside his his roommate.

she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “yeah, that you do. its been like 2 years, spencer” she teased him.

“I know, i just dont think im really like a hooking up kind of guy, you know”. he said shifting under the blanket. “yeah but life is short, and your job is depressing.” she sighed factually, laying her head on his shoulder.

“maybe i will,” he said suddenly her heart tighten.

“morgan keeps teasing me, and calling me a virgin. i’m not but i guess the fact that people think that i am kind of bothers me, you know?” he admitted staring at the wall.

“yeah, but what morgan says means nothing, spence.”

he sighed. “i know but it still bothers me.” he murmured. she shifted next to him to meet his eyes as he continued. “i just wish i was more experienced in that department i guess,” he continued meeting her eyes. “sorry i don’t know why i’m telling you this,”

her eyes softened as they met his, “no it’s fine. and experience doesn’t mean anything. even if it did, i’m sure your at least a good kisser.”

his cheeks flush “oh yeah, why do you say that?” her eyes traveled down to his lips subtly.

“cuz you have nice lips.”

her eyes traveled back to his and her heart skipped a beat from the way he was suddenly looking at her. his eyes traveled down to hers and back up to her pretty face. his brown eyes darkened with the thought of kissing her but he didn’t want to make the first move.

her breathing suddenly increased when she swore she sensed him moving closer to her face. something swirled inside her and she suddenly felt the need to taste his lips. “wanna test that theory?” she asked lowly.

maybe it was because she wanted him to feel something, or maybe it was because she secretly always wanted to do this with her roommate. maybe it was both.

his throat bobbed and he nodded silently staring at her full, wet lips. “ask me to kiss you.” she dared him, already leaning in as her fruity scented breathed fand his face. she’d never been this bold in her life but it felt good.

“kiss me.” he hesitated for a moment before rasping with a hint of desperation.

within a the blink of an eye, her fingers grabbed the back of his neck pushing his head close to meet her soft lips. she was instantly hint with the smell of his mint breath and smooth lips gliding with her.

his hand found it’s way to her waist angling her closer, while his other hand softly cupped her cheek. she almost moaned from the way her lips glided so perfectly with his, he was so gentle with her.

she felt a tight presence in her stomach as they explored each others lips and it was becoming too much to bare. she suddenly she pulled back, feeling like they were getting a bit to into it. “i’m sorry was that too mu-“

she felt slightly guilty for pushing him to kiss her but it went away when he cut her off. his fingers grasped her chin cloddling their lips harder than before. he opened his mouth into the kiss, inviting her tongue to explore. her fingers returned to the back of his neck tugging on the hair as he left out a low moan that she used to further collide their tongues. it was clear, he needed this.

finally letting go, the silent fight for dominance over the kiss was quickly won over by her from his simple lack of experience compared to her.

“is this okay?” she mumbled between kisses, it was pretty obvious where this was heading.

he nodded but didn’t verbally respond between kissing her and clutching her waist like a vice. the heat radiating off her body with his was becoming all consuming and the kiss felt like it could take years off her life.

she pulled away and he let out a whine in frustration. she smirked and but it didn’t last long before she began laying open mouth kisses on his throat. he felt dizzy as his fingers ran through her hair and blood started to rush to dick.

“y/n,” he whined as his fingers flexed on her waist.

just the sound of her name coming from his mouth in this way was enough to make her clit throb as she littered kisses on his neck and throat but didn’t verbally respond.

“y/n, please” he practically whimpered as her wet lips sucked a small visble bruise on his neck. clearly he was touch deprived by how worked up he was getting just from her kissing. she never expected spencer to be the one begging for her.

“please what spencer?” her voice echoed lowly in his ear, making his dick swell even further from her endearing dominance and his willingness to submit to her.

instead of answering his hands clamped her waist and he snatched her into his lap so she was straddling him. he tired to pull her into another kiss but she denied him and her hand ghosted around his neck.

“i asked you a question.“ she chided sternly meeting his eyes. their were blown wide but the twinkled with list for her.

his throat bobbed and the sudden intensity she bestowed as well as her hand on his neck had his body feeling hot and his cheeks flushed.

“please… touch me.” he felt slightly degraded by her and the way she made him verbalize what he wanted but he couldn’t deny how it was working him up. his hand locked around her and he closed it tightly around his neck.

she bit her bottom lip to hide her smirk at him when her grip on his neck tightened, knowing exactly what he wanted from her.

his eyes fluttered shut and moaned lowly, looking almost pained. “harder…”

the sound of his desperate voice had her clenching her thighs together but she complied, tightening her grip on his neck. “this is what you needed, huh?”

his mouth fell open with a quick nodded. her grip tightened and she felt the swell of him growing beneath her. “i told you to use your words spencer.” she scolded.

“yes…yeah. i needed this.” that’s exactly what she’s liked to hear.

her other hand found the buttons of his dress shirt. his warm, large hands held her waist while she felt the swell of him grow underneath her, denting his pants. she could feel him begging to be released right bellow her core and she resisted the urged to grind her hips. “don’t move.”

this dynamic was so new for both of them. she had never in her life been so in control like this and his experiences in general had never felt this good. there was no denying that this was turning them both on, beyond belief.

once his shirt was fully buttoned, she ran her soft hands slowly down his toned chest. and he breathed hitched but he kept his composure wanting to appease her.

she fully took in his appearance from his foggy glasses, tousled hair and swollen lips as he breathlessly stared at with hooded eyes. he looked like a walking wet dream and it was absolutely soaking her core to the point that it ached desperately.

she wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with her mouth or hand wrapped around him. she wondered what it would look like to see him whine desperately for more, she was determined to make it happen.

she sucked in a breath, before reaching to take off his glasses. her eyes lowered to his pink exposed nipples and they looked so tempting that she couldn’t help but lower her wet lips around his nipple and suck soflty, still keeping eye contact.

he tucked his bottom lip into his teeth, to hold back the groan that was was on the tip of his tongue when her teeth lightly brushed his nipple.

the tip her wet tongue swirled around his nipple before pulling away with low pop sound. she sat back up and looked down at him as her fingers found the buttons of his pants, slightly panting.

“I’m gonna touch you now, this okay?”

he nodded fully mesmerized by her entire demeanor when she had him like this. her glimmering eyes, she swollen lips, her pebbled nipples peaking through her top. “spencer.” she stopped.

“yes.” he nodded barley trusting his voice, he sounded embarrassedly desperate but he didn’t even care at this point. he needed this, he needed her.

she lifted her hips and pulled his dress pants down to hang on the floor before they hooked into his boxers. his heart was racing a million miles a minute just in an anticipation for her to touch him. his hips lightly trusted in the air but she pushed him down

she looked down to peak at his huge swollen dick as it slapped his stomach, already leaking precum. she couldn’t hold back a gasp. holy shit, she thought to herself. he was huge.

not only was he long, but he was was thick and pretty. his thick veiny dick was a pale pink color that matched his nipples.

“so pretty,“ she praised and his dick swelled even further. he panted just thinking about the amount of times he’s imagined this exact scenario; her hovering over him about to make him cum with her mouth or hand or both.

she scooted off his lap to kneel and hover next to him on the couch as he sat next to her with his dick out and his legs spread. she grabbed his chin to look her in the eyes as her soft hand gripped around his dick and he gasped.

she bit her bottom lip and swiped the tip of her thumb on his swollen tip, to gather up the precum.

‘shit’ he mumbled and gripped the couch cushions with both hands, trying desperately not to cum right there.

“please.” he couldn’t help but beg.

giving in, she quickly spat in her hand and finally began her achingly slow strokes on his throbbingly hard dick and he head layed back against the couch and looked at her in awe.

“you look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your dick, baby.” she praised, a little shocked by her own dirty words. he moaned just at the sound of her voice alone.

her strokes were slow but she gripped him so tight his mouth fell open. he was really trying to hold back how already close was but it was becoming evident. his breathing was heavy, his knuckles were white and his whimpers and moans increased with her speed.

on top of that he was leaking more and more from his tip and it was creating a wet sound, combined with his low moans as she stroked him to orgasm.

she stopped her stroking for a second to squeeze his tip, catching him completely off guard and he whimpered out loudly.

“fuck,” his thighs shook as he felt that familiar knot in his lower stomach start to tighten. his breathing picked up, coming out in gasps and pants as she stroked himself faster. his head swam with nothing but the thought of what it would be like to have her wrapped around him.

“i’m gonna cum!” he exclaimed. “please let me,”

“look at me.” she squeezed his tip and his eyes flew open to meet hers with a gasp. she pumped his dick faster and faster, up and down until it throbbed and twitched in her hand and he let out a loud gasp, followed by a deep whimper.

it was intense. his thighs shook, his eyes rolled back into his head. his hips bucked wildly into her hand as his mouth dropped open as he rode the wave of his orgasm.

“oh…god.” he cried out.

her thighs clenched together at the sight of him falling apart for her. she pumped his soaked dick through his orgasm as he let up little gasp and pants for the after shocks.

she knew she should give him a chance to at least catch his breath but she simply couldn’t resist wanting to make him fall apart all over again.

she took him by surprise when her hand continued her torturous stroked on his dick, despite his very recent orgasm. his heart was beating a million miles a minute but he couldn’t find it in him to tell her to stop. he simply craved that feeling from her over and over again so he took it.

an intense throbbing sensation washed over stomcah from the overstimulation and he was now practically wailing out moans and whimpers as well as a string of ‘oh fucks,’ and her name.

he was so loud that the neighbors could probably hear. “shhh, baby,” she shushed him, “are you close?” she asked leaning her forehead to his, already knowing the answer.

he nodded rapidly but he couldn’t keep his voice down. “y/n,” he whined. “it’s so good… don’t stop.” the sound of his voice was making her weak in the knees but she wanted to make him feel good again. at least he was using his words now.

“i’m not baby, don’t worry. your being such a good boy for me.” her hand went at ungodly speed, stroking him base tip and the added wetness from his previous orgasm only added the sensation. his mouth fell open and he eyes rolled back into his head.

before he could finish he gripped her head and kissed her lips hastily. his body was feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated and he just needed the comfort of her touch to get him through it.

she kissed him and swallowed up all his moans and gasps as she worked him past the point of no return.

finally, and he let out a string of curse words before he bucked his hips wildly off the couch with the most pathetic moan she ever heard into her neck.

second later his dick absolutely exploded in her hand, drenching not only her hand but his stomach in his warm cum as he rode a long wave of his euphoria. her hand finally let up.

“holy shit,” she whispered taking in his absolutely wrecked state. his exposed chest and abs glistened with sweat and remnants of his orgasm, his eyes were screwed shut and his body slightly shivered. he was basically none verbal.

his eyes finally to meet hers and he fist lightly closed around her neck, pulling her until a soft, unsexual, kiss.

holy shit indeed.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid glasses #criminal minds season 2 #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #smut #fanfic

[sananaryon]

Magnus Archives dudes ranked by how much I, an aroace lesbian, would want to fuck them

Jonathan Sims - 7/10

Fairly middle of the road academic, would be the worst to make breakfast for the day after, but gets point for being a mess.

Martin Blackwood - 1/10

It's good for others but the teddybear vibes dont do it for me, i'm sorry

Tim Stoker - 9/10

He seems fun and I think he'd understand that this is no strings attached, we'd have a good time.

Elias Bouchard - 6/10

Evil old men are fuckable, but loses points for being the worst.

Gerard Keay - 3/10

I wouldn't fuck Gerard, I'd make him good food and let him stay at my place for as long as he needs.

Jurgen Leitner - 5/10

Look. He gets a worse rap than he deserves. That said he loses points for probably talking too much during sex.

Michael Crew - 7/10

I like his powers and he seems like a fun guy to fuck, plus scars are hot but seeing them also involves seeing a semi-buff dude shirtless which is like my biggest turnoff.

Michael Distortion - 6/10

I am a monsterfucker but i don't like his voice.

Peter Lukas - 3/10

Bear DILF is a great vibe but i feel like he'd wanna do it in Lonely and i'm cold at the moment so that sounds awful.

Oliver Banks - 3/10

He'd be an 10 if he hadn't said anything to trigger my thanatophobia halfway through. He'd make good breakfast after though.

Adelard Decker - 7/10

Saved more people than Gertrude, I'd fuck him just for that.

Eric Delano - 9/10

DILF

Michael Shelley (pre-Distortion) - 3/10

Another one that just doesn't do it for me, but he's cute enough.

Mikaele Salesa - 10/10

He has sugar daddy vibes, I'd fuck him for a new ps5 and he'd pay my bills.

Breekon & Hope - 10/10

Worse ways to spend a weekend than being spitroasted by buff delivery men with sexy voices.

John Amherst - 1/10

He has every std

Maxwell Rayner - 2/10

I mean, he's hot enough but next to Manuela everyone is a 1. This is the one time i let my lesbianism influence my judgement

Jordan Kennedy - 6/10

The ants are a turnoff but I respect a working man

Jared Hopworth - 10/10

I DO NOT NEED TO JUSTIFY THIS ONE

Tom Haan - 4/10

Cannibalism is hotter when women do it, I lied about not letting my lesbianism decide.

Robert Montauk - 8/10

Dilf AND serial killer? My panties are already wet

Trevor Herbert - 4/10

Points for being the same as Robert but he was mean to Daisy so fuck him in a non sexy way

Simon Fairchild - 4/10

His optimism just gets to the point of annoying, dude shut up about what a lovely day it is while im sucking you off!

Edwin Burroughs - 7/10

I wouldn't need possession to corrupt him

Raymond Fielding - 5/10

Middle of the road, I wouldn't say no but i wouldn't initiate.

Robert Smirke - 10/10

This is 100% because i study architecture and fucking Robert Smirke would give bragging rights forever.

#magnus archives #the magnus archives #tma #im not tagging all these characters

[ineffectualdemon]

Modern Au Mobei Jun having a strict 12 step skin care routine and dressing extremely fashionably and getting his hair and nails done regularly because one day his secretary/guy who actually runs his company is going to realise Mobei Jun is the perfect trophy husband he is practising at being as beautifully fuckable as possible to win his perfect man

Meanwhile Shang Qinghua is on the other side of town wearing old boxers with holes in it and a stained gamer shirt picking random clothing off his floor and sniffing it to try to figure out what needs to be washed and what's "clean enough for another week"

#mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang #svsss #not safe for esmes

[fuckable-old-man-battle]

Okay, here goes. My Grandpa Harley essay:

I am submitting Jake “Grandpa” Harley because he is the quintessential fuckable old man in every criteria, namely “old” and “fuckable” and also “man”.

Firstly, “old”. No chance of him being another under-40 peon masquerading as a senior citizen. Depending on where we’re at in the story, this man is either 90 or a stuffed corpse in his granddaughter’s foyer. He’s so old, he’s already dead and preserved, and he looks it.

Secondly, he sucks so bad, which bestows upon him the purest form of “fuckability” in existence. The combination of his old-timey charm, caricature of gentlemanliness, bizarre shit and problematic swag makes him impossible to romanticise, but boy can he be sexualised. Dude decorates his home with big game trophies and fires his shitty shotgun indiscriminately. Dude talks to no one and has high tea by himself with a stuffed mannequin lady. Fan interpretation expounds on this like no other. My favourite fanart of him describes him as “a 10/10, but uses the word ‘waifu’ unironically” and a sole issue 2nd Amendment voter. He’s the dregs you find at the bottom of a sewer. You can’t romanticise him, you can’t forgive him. There’s nothing left to do but fuck him.

Thirdly, we address “man”. He is indubitably a man, but even better, he is also babygirl. Due to the heinous plot of Homestuck, we get some cutting insight into his psyche via his younger pseudo-self. And what does that insight bring into the unholy light of day? A man who says “gadzooks” and “tally ho” and slings his double pistols while wearing the skimpiest shorts imaginable. At first glance, one may mistake Grandpa Harley for a fucked up 1-percenter Indiana Jones. But the truth reveals itself eventually: he’s a fucked up 1-percenter Lara Croft. Strapped up, ass out, firing his guns in the air.

In conclusion: Grandpa Harley is the most fuckable old man. He’s sexy. He’s toxic. He’s babygirl. He’s deranged. My dragonfly. My black-eyed fire. My right hand man, my silly little rabbit. He’s everything to me. Also he is bisexual.

.

#propoganda