#hose chugging

[pinksomovember]

Day 1 - In A Car [ao3]

Ivy rocked on her heel folded under her.

“I’m going to piss myself,” she said, a slight whine bleeding into her otherwise joking tone.

Nora didn’t respond. Ivy had been complaining on-and-off for the past hour, with increasing frequency, and had started shortly after a stop that had a bathroom.

“I seriously don’t think I’ve ever had to pee this bad in my life,” Ivy continued. “It’s starting to hurt.”

“You could’ve gone at the gas station,” Nora said.

Ivy didn’t appreciate the condescending scolding. She felt like a water balloon that was still attached to the hose, bulging more and more with every second, with only a matter of time before it went pop. Her only outlet was to fidget, simultaneously squeezing her thighs together and rocking back and forth onto her foot so it pressed up against her pussy. In combination with the seam of her jean shorts digging up against her—working its way into a wedgie—her urethra had plenty of pressure to help it stay closed. That was only going to work for so long, though.

“You didn’t see the bathrooms,” Ivy argued. They’d been disgusting—shit on the back of the seat, a truly foul smelling liquid seeping along the corners of the floor, and flies everywhere. Not to mention how every surface was covered in stains and dried flecks of who-knows-what. If it had been cleaned in the past month Ivy would eat one of her socks.

She’d had to pee, decently bad, when they had stopped there. But under no circumstances would Ivy use that bathroom. Except for maybe (just maybe) right now.

She thought she’d be able to hold it. They were only a few hours out from their destination and she could always get Nora to stop at a rest stop or a gas station if it really got bad. Ivy, however, hadn’t realized that they were about to exit fucking civilization. There had been nothing for the past fifty miles other than cattle and the occasional cornfield!

“If you weren’t chugging those iced teas-”

“I’ve stopped!”

Ivy might’ve also forgotten to factor in how much liquid had still been moving its way through her system, too. It was a habit for her to sip at sugary drinks when she was bored.

A wave of desperation so strong that Ivy dug her nails into her thighs swept through her.

“Ohhh my god,” she moaned. “I can’t do this. Jesus fucking Christ.”

There was so much pee inside her right now her bladder was visibly pushing up against her skin, firm and tight and aching between her hips. She had given up on the seatbelt, and the button of her shorts, well over fifteen minutes ago. Ivy kind of wanted to cry.

Nora softened. “You going to be alright, babe?”

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Maybe.”

“I can always pull over,” she offered. “You’d have to piss on the side of the road, though.”

Ivy shook her head adamantly. “No, there’s way too much traffic.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes, aside from the staticy music of one of the few radio station’s Nora’s truck was picking up and the occasional curse from Ivy.

“Are you enjoying it, at least? At least a little?” Nora asked, breaking the quiet.

“What?” Ivy practically panted. Her breathing was rough as she tried to huff and puff her way through the worst of the desperation.

“Just.” Nora seemed a bit embarrassed, keeping her eyes completely glued to the road. “You’re…y’know. Piss thing.”

“It’s not a piss thing,” Ivy hissed, mortified. Even though it was, at least partially, a piss thing.

It wasn’t her fault that having a full bladder turned her on. From what Ivy understood, it was just simple biology! The fuller that most women’s bladder’s get, the more it puts pressure on all the internal pleasure hotspots. A little like cockwarming a moderately small toy, just without any form of firmness that a foreign object would feel like. It felt good in a slow building, passive sort of way.

Getting off with all that weight in her lower belly also felt good. A little bit of extra flare to a still otherwise damn good orgasm. 

But she wouldn’t say she was into piss. The idea of the smell and the mess alone was enough to turn her off to it. Holding it on occasion until it was just starting to edge into too much was plenty enough for her.

Although, she had to admit, she wasn’t exactly turned off to it right now.

Each tight squeeze of her thighs stimulated her a little bit. Every rock back pressed the bone of her heel into the squelching slickness of her pussy, which was absolutely soaking her panties despite knowing damn well that she hadn’t leaked a single drop of pee yet. And with all that movement, the seam of her shorts was pulled tight against her unmistakably hard clit.

“Well, are you?” Nora asked.

“I-” Ivy stopped herself. Her face was burning. “Yeah, maybe. So what, I still have to pee more than I have to—or whatever, want to—get off.”

Nora stole a side glance at Ivy. Something dark, heedy, interested came over her expression as she drank in how Ivy looked.

Ivy sacrificed one of her hands clawing into her thigh as a grounding method to cover her face. This was embarrassing enough as it was without having to talk about her kinks. Even if Nora seemed to be getting into it.

“Oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Ivy chanted, forgetting her embarrassment entirely. The wave of desperation felt incredibly, suddenly like a physical wave. She could feel it surging against the sphincter muscles of her urethra. 

She wiggled her hips side to side to try and fight through it. The movement caused her shorts, already so tight against her cunt, to shift. Her clit was trapped between the seam and her pubic bone, but couldn’t stay in place with this new movement. The seam fucking stroked her aching clit, slipping to the side before grinding right back over it with the next sway of her hips.

“Hu-uhn,” Ivy couldn’t help but moan. “Uh, uh, uh!”

“Fuck,” Nora cursed, breathless.

Ivy couldn’t process the difference between her desperation for relief and her sudden, surging need to cum. Everything was much too much and not enough at the same time. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Jesus Christ. Uhaha.” Ivy sobbed a couple times. It was part laugh and part horniness and part overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like an out-of-body event while also being the most physically animal experience she had ever had.

“God. You feeling good, baby?” Nora asked. 

“Y-y-yes!” Ivy wailed. “It’s- fuck, it’s so good. I’m so wet. Shit, I’m so- I’ve gotta piss so bad.”

Nora took her right hand off the wheel to grab Ivy’s leg. Her other hand held onto the wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white. There was something wild about her. Something that, if she didn’t have to focus so much of her attention on the road, might’ve swept her up in the same way Ivy’s desperation was.

“You gonna play with yourself, baby?” Nora asked. “Gonna play with your clit while you piss yourself?”

“Don’t- don’t wanna piss myself,” Ivy whined. Nevertheless, she did as Nora suggested and grabbed tight between her legs. Her shorts were too tight and were getting in the way of actually being able to touch herself effectively, but the pressure helped reel in her bladder’s demands a little bit.

“Ives, baby, there’s no bathrooms for miles yet.”

A reedy noise broke in Ivy’s throat.

“I know, I know,” Nora said, hand squeezing at Ivy’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“This is so fucking embarassing,” Ivy managed, laughing incredulously. “I’m seriously gonna wet myself. Fuck.”

“I don’t care. Fuck, baby, looking like that…I’d let you ruin anything.”

“Hm?” Ivy hummed. Her whole cunt was pulsing, vagina and pussy lips and clit. She was so wet she wouldn’t even be surprised if a spot was showing up on her shorts, soaked straight through her panties. Her body was building up to something—so high up she was almost afraid of it—unsure if it would be the dams breaking involuntarily or an orgasm so intense it would be the best she’d ever had.

“You look so fucking good, Ives,” Nora rasped. “I could eat you alive.”

“I…” Ivy wavered. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. 

“It’s okay,” Nora said. “It’s gonna happen either way, isn’t it? Unless you changed your mind about the side of the road?”

They were on a two-laned highway, a couple of cars in either direction always in sight. Stopping would mean even more cars, as the ones behind them passed them by. 

“No, absolutely not. It’d end up on the- on the fucking Internet or something.”

Nora massaged her thumb against Ivy’s skin. “Then I’m sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to piss yourself.”

“’S bullshit,” Ivy mumbled. Tears were pricking up in her eyes. The side-to-side wiggling was simultaneously not doing enough to help her hold it and doing a frustratingly inconsistent too-much-not-enough to get her off. She resorted back to rocking, with no sign of pausing the mounting something that was steadily creeping up on her.

“We’ve got a ton of clothes in the back,” Nora soothed. “And towels, and baby wipes, and our rental is pretty far from any neighbors so nobody’ll see you walking in your wet clothes. And it won’t take too much to clean the truck, and I don’t mind cleaning it up, okay?”

“But-”

“It’s not a big deal,” Nora insisted, a bit of firmness edging in. “Understand?”

Ivy nodded tightly. She did understand, even if she could barely think. 

“Now, since it’s gonna happen anyways, you want to make yourself feel good?”

“Already am,” Ivy said. “Might, fuck, I don’t know. Might cum.”

“Just like that?”

“May- uhn- maybe.”

“Fuck.” She sounded reverent. “You wanna touch yourself, baby? Wanna stick your fingers down your shorts?”

Ivy nodded, frantic. She was so close, to coming, to pissing, to doing both. She just couldn’t quite get there.

Her fingers felt fucking heavenly. Her pussy was a mess of sticky slick, audibly squishing as she pushed her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and into the lips of her pussy. Just brushing against her clit was enough to cause her to shout out, trembling at the sudden stimulation of sensitive nerves.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, look at you. It feels good?”

“Yes! Fuck, ohmygod. Hnnnuh.”

Ivy’s fingers were clumsy, sitting up and trapped in her shorts and obstructed by the clamping of her thighs. But God, it didn’t even matter. She grinded her cunt on her heel and the drag of the cotton and denim against her pussy made everything all the better and her fingers fumbling over her clit was dragging her up up up.

“Keep playing with your clit, baby. Just like that, yeah. Just how you like it.”

“Gonna- fuck!”

“You gonna cum, Ives?”

“Wanna,” Ivy cried. “So- fuck, please, please. Wanna…I’m so…”

“Or are you gonna piss?”

“Fuck!” Ivy wailed. Her pleasure crested, sharp and violent and hard enough that her whole body shook. She threw her head back into the seat, practically seizing. She barely recognized the sounds she was making as something coming from her mouth, unfamiliar from any other she’d made before.

“Oh my god,” Nora was saying, somewhere in the distance. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.”

Ivy was still shaking, still somewhere high up. 

“Need’ta piss,” she slurred. “Need’ta…uhn, I need’ta…”

Nora said something. Ivy registered only that it was meant to be encouraging.

“Uh, uhn, ohhhhhh fuck. Oh-”

Ivy’s fingers were still against her cunt, and she felt the first hot trickle of piss against them. It wasn’t enough, though, not even registering as relief. The sensation of liquid leaving her bladder, however, passing through her weakening sphincter and soaking into her shorts, bordered into the same amount of pleasure as playing with her clit usually was.

So soon after her orgasm, she felt overstimulated. There was still way too much pressure and it was taking a strenuous amount of concentration to keep even the tiny stream going and everything still felt so fucking good.

“Nnn…Nora,” Ivy sobbed. “I can’t-”

“Relax, Ives, relax. It’s okay, you can do it.”

“Can’t-”

Nora let go of Ivy’s thigh and instead tucked her hand beneath Ivy’s wrist of the hand still down her shorts to place her palm against her belly. “I’m gonna push down a bit, okay? Just relax.”

Ivy hiccuped, but nodded. She was still managing a thin stream of piss, seeping into the seat of her shorts and just barely beginning to form a puddle under her butt, but her bladder was screaming at her.

Nora pushed down and Ivy squirmed violently. The pressure was so much more but it wasn’t doing anything but hurting. She had to piss so bad and she couldn’t and inexplicably she felt like she could cum again just like this but not quite. And then her urethra gave way.

“Ohmy god,” Ivy choked. The piss flooded out of her.

It didn’t even feel like she was sitting in the passenger seat of her girlfriend’s car, her entire bottom was so suddenly drenched. She might as well have been sitting in the tub in a few inches of bathwater. Hot, very slightly piss-scented, bathwater.

It was euphoric. She might’ve been cumming again, for all the pleasure searing through her as her release hissed through her panties and pooled on the fabric seat faster than it could soak it up. She genuinely couldn’t tell.

The stream was hot and steady against her fingers as it sprayed out of her. Absently, she petted along her inner labia. 

“Shit,” Nora said, like she was in awe. “Shit.”

The stream started to peter out, in fits and bursts. Just when Ivy thought it was over another gush would start up, each one a little weaker than the last.

There was a dull drip, drip, drip as the puddle on the seat dripped onto the floorboards.

Nora’s eyes darted between the road and Ivy, with a desperate sort of want. “Oh my god, Ives. That was…”

“I think I’m still going,” Ivy said. She felt a little fuzzy around the edges, numb in the very tips of her fingers and toes and slightly cross eyed. Fucked out.

“Fuck,” Nora whispered, enthralled.

 The final dredges of her bladder’s contents were still dribbling out of her, like her urethra couldn’t quite figure out how to close back up. Ivy tried to force it a bit, by clenching up, but all that caused was a violent shiver to rush up her spine and a soft little gasp.

Finally, finally, Ivy felt herself stop peeing.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, satisfied and spent and high on sex. 

“You okay?” Nora asked. Her hand was back to Ivy’s thigh, mindless of the piss starting to cool on her skin.

“Yeah,” Ivy sighed, sleepy and pliant. “M’great. Maybe, uh, in a bit you could get a towel outta the back?”

“Yeah,” Nora agreed. “’Course, baby.”

#omovember #omorashi #fem omo #day 1 #original work #piss kink #original character #omovember 2023 #fic

[carolmunson]

love language four

happy love language sunday. this episode brought to you by me having the 'another scorcher!' sears hvac commercial stuck in my head. (if she doesn't know this commercial she's too young for you bro!) there is a description in here for a 'confetti glitter cup' and i need you to know i don't mean the ones you know of today. i mean these ones from the 90s.

love language set list

sticky. melted popsicle on toddler hands hot. running to the ice cream truck hot. public pool day for the kids with some pocket money, home made sprinkler with the hose for the kids without it hot. every shriek of their laughter peirces your ears and you smile. you sit on an almost broken beach chair, the lounge kind, blue, green and white plastic suspending you in place. a trailer park duchess on her throne in her yellow polka dot bikini and cut off shorts. the tinny echo of the radio plays across the way where mrs. milly plays with her kids, beach ball in one hand over her head, baby milly on her hip in the other. her husband took the car for work so they couldn't have the pool day they wanted. you would've driven them if eddie hadn't been going to and from home depot all morning for parts.

in the cacophony of the tinny radio, the woosh of hoses, the bubbling laughter of kids, you hear the clang of metal on metal just a few feet away -- followed up by a grunt of frustration you knew all too well. that HVAC unit needed fixing at the end of winter but he forgot about it. forgot until it started to get too hot. kicking off the sheets hot. cold showers at night hot. 'don't touch me, it's too hot' hot. the moment you said it he knew it had to get fixed, the sun isn't gonna get between him and whats his. "you okay over there?" you ask, sipping your lemonade through a curly straw, the ice cold drink making condensation build on the confetti cup you inherited from your aunt. you cross your legs, losing a flip flop in the process. "mhm," he grunts. you look over, his messy curls tied up on the top of his head, tongue poking out of his lips. his tattoos glisten in the sun, covered in a sheen of sweat and sun screen. he's been stripped down to a pair of black jean shorts all morning and early afternoon, bandana dangling from the back pocket that he's been using to wipe off his face. the soft definition in his arms, back, and chest makes you feel girlish -- giggly. the park's mr. fix it -- all yours, all the time. until it's too hot. broken hvac during a heat wave hot. "do you want me to help?" you ask. you see his eyes peer over the top of the machine and give you a look that can only be understood as 'please stop talking'. you sip your lemonade again. mrs. milly's beach ball hits you on the top of the head with a soft 'bop!' and you laugh. you look back over to eddie holding back his own, desperate to stay focus and annoyed at the task at hand. if he giggles, the hvac will know and won't take him seriously anymore.

"sorry!" her four year old says, her seven year old waves his hands to get the ball back. you spike it over like you know how to play volleyball. you don't. another twenty minutes and the sounds of the park mix with your boyfriend's cussing, the clang of metal on metal, of wrenches and bolts being thrown against the side of the trailer. "hey, hey," you say, getting up off the nearly broken lounge, "stop that." you hurry over in your half way on flip flops, the strings of your bikini tickling your back. he takes in a deep breath through the nose and it's just too hot and humid for it to soothe him. you offer him your lemonade and he blushes over the sunburn pink on his cheeks. the ice cubes jiggle against the plastic, the confetti in the cup catches the light while he forgoes the straw and chugs it. he breathes heavy after, passing the cup back to you, empty. "thought i could fix it," he says softly between breaths, "wayne could always fix it. this stupid piece of shit." "fuck the hvac," you say with a smile. he laughs, taking the bandana out of his pocket and wiping the sweat from under his bangs, dampended and curly. "yeah, fuck it," he smiles back.

"fuck it!" you say again, giving it a little kick. something clicks and clinks inside of the machine and it roars to life. you both look at each other, eyes wide. the sun beats down on your both -- a reminder of the heat. 'can't believe a kick in flip flops fixed the hvac' hot. "you gotta be kidding me," he says, half mad, half surprised, "i've been out here all fuckin'' day." "maybe you did need my help," you smirk. he collects his tools, tossing them in the box, muttering an annoyed 'don't talk to me.' you head into the house, shutting the windows to keep the air in while you feel it start to fill the kitchen and living room. not quite cold, but the air flow was welcomed in the stagnant heat. you pour more lemonade for yourself and your mr. fix it boyfriend. your aunts recipe that just tastes better in confetti cups. he comes in, tossing the tool box on the table and sighs at the feeling of the air flow in the room. not cooled yet, not conditioned. just the flow. he sees your offering and smile spreads across his face. he's delicate in his sips now, using the curly straw you put in there, a clear blue -- shiny. "hm," he he says in relief, feeling the drink revive him now that the worst was over. he stalks over in his black cut off shorts, hands dirty, cupping them behind your thighs to lift you onto the counter. "hey," you protest, but not really. his fingers reaching behind your back to pull at the strings of your bikini, "s'too hot." "that's why i'm takin' it off," he smirks, knowing it won't be too hot in a half hour. you feel the scratch of his five o'clock shadow brush against your jaw while his tongue collects a stripe of sweat from your neck. lemonade and salt, margaritaville skin. "hm," you mumble at the feeling. "hm," he mumbles back. dirty hands on your waist. your relief at the blinds on the storm door being shut. too hot. neck kisses on the counter hot. bikini top on the kitchen floor hot. can't complain about it being too hot, hot. lemonade sips off your skin, hot. sticky.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #love language em #eddie munson blurb

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mountain, to a baby chicken drinking water: "You're doing so good, drinking like a little champ. Yes you are. So smart and good at hydrating..." -sees Dew stumbling over to the outdoor hose and turning it on so he can drink from it- "...You okay?" Dew, gurgling: "I didn't drink water for, like, a day and a half..." -continues to chug water- "I forgot." Mountain, looking between Dew and the chick: "...Please do not follow his example." Chick: -peeping-

#Lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost

[skybrushus]

Fire Captain Three Alarm gave the room one last looking over then he shook his head. In all his years in the Ponyville Fire Department he'd never seen such a...surreal situation. Making sure all of his team had left the classroom he stepped out of the schoolhouse. 

     Outside the schoolhouse the students were standing around in little clusters talking to themselves. Along with the students their sizeable crowd of parents, fire volunteers, and curious onlookers. His team was carefully rolling up the hoses and stowing them back on the engine which was still chugging away in the schoolyard. 

     Three Alarm looked around and spied School Mistress Cheerilee. The mare was standing  watching the events unfolded. At her side stood apparent the ignition source of today's chaos. CMC nervously stood there. It was obvious they wanted to be anywhere than standing next to the earth pony mare.

      The earth pony stallion walked up to school mistress and rubbed his chin. "Well Ma'am. The fire is out. Fortunately it didn't spread too much. I'll send you and City Hall our report giving my input on the unusual." He glanced over at the fillies. "The unusual circumstances surrounding today's events. Good day." Then he turned around and walked away. 

      Cheerilee watched Three Alarm walk away then she turned and addressed the fillies. Crossing her arms she looked down at them and spoke.

      "Girls. I believe you when you say you're sorry, but still I need to understand something. How did you set schoolhouse on fire by accidentally breaking one of the windows with a jawbreaker you shot out of a slingshot?"

       Applebloom fidgeted back and forth. "Wwwweeellll Miss Cheerilee ya see...."

       This is one of the drawings I started during our most recent Picarto stream. The theme that evening was back-to-school, and this is the story that popped into my head as I was drawing it. 

#baron-engel #mlp #anthropomorphic #apple bloom #cmc #sweetie belle #scootaloo #miss cheerilee #picarto #back to school

[goodgirlgrow]

Just thinking about being taken into a barn filled with other cows. The moment I pass through the wooden doors, my humanity fades. The farm hands around me ignore my greetings completely and only acknowledge my boyfriend. He takes me to a stall and chainsme there, all while chatting with the other handlers about the size and fertility of their respective cattle. I try to greet the cow in the stall next to me, but she just replies with an angry snort. I realize I’m bigger than her and start to feel like I did something wrong. I look next to my leash and notice a hose. Instinctively i begin sucking on it. The most delicious mixture pours into my mouth, and as I chug away my belly begins to swell and feel warm. My pussy starts to drip and my thighs become wet with my juices. A hand slaps my ass hard. “You like that, don’t you, Bess?” my handler hisses as he cups my cunt. “I could fuck those fat thighs so easily right now.” A buzzer sounds and his hand moves to my leash, “it’s time,” he says. The other cows and I are led to form a line to go somewhere. I look at my handler nervously, “don’t worry,” he assures. We’re led to an exterior corridor that leads to another building. I look out into the night trying to understand where I am. Once in the other building, I can see an auditorium filled with people. A booming voice speaks rapidly, “wellll-everybody-here-comes-the-stock-can-we-get-some-applause-toniiiiight.” It’s an auction. Despite being third in line, a strange man pulls me up front. He tells my handler, “someone wants her bad.” He pulls me on stage and the crowd claps. “From RH farms we have Bess, can we start the bidding at $1,000, that’s $1,000.” The handler pulls me onto a strange metal platform as the auctioneer shouts numbers. A digital display reads “300lbs.” When did that happen? The numbers being shouted raise quickly. “$30,000 going once, twice, SOLD! To the gentleman in black, the one and only owner of Paradise Farms.” I look around and don’t see my boyfriend anywhere. I’m lead off stage and see my new owner high fiving the people around him. He approaches me, tagging gun in hand, smiling ear to ear. “You’re gonna make quite the brood cow, Bess.

[papuhater]

SHIKABANE NO ODORI

DAY TWO

a/n : i apologize for how shitty was the other one, i literally write these in one night, and i am rn in a school trip of 5 days. i do not condone or romanticize any of this behaviour.

pairing : ARKHAM!riddler x gn!reader

warnings : yandere shit, graphic description of violence, possesive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, forced isolation, abuse, all the good stuff (sarcasm).

KO-FI 🕯️ || HALLOWEEN SPECIAL 🎃

it had been a bad idea to try to outwit the riddler, in his own lair of secrets, it was written in stone that he would find you.

now you were again in the punishment room, a locked dark room that you were kept in when you misbehaved against edwards's criteria, which normally depended on how he got out of bed. the cold atmosphere of the room made you shiver, what would edward do? this was your first attempt of escape. what kind of punishments would his twisted mind come up with?

as you pondered about your past and your possibly future, you only lifted your head slightly as the door opened, and the monster's shadow extended on the floor.

he looked royally pissed,

but he didn't say anything, all he did was come in with some food and place it on the floor

"eat it."

you quickly grabbed the bowl and began to eat, but weirdly, there weren't any utensils, so you began to chug the soup down but before the liquid even touched your tongue the beast screeched.

"no! you're not supposed to eat it like that, you mutt!" you quickly stopped, scared of the consequences "eat it like you deserve it, like a worthless dog"

your eyes widened, he wanted you to eat it off the floor? you tried to speak but you were cut off with a slapping sound, and a stinging pain in your cheek, he had slapped you.

"eat it off the floor you worthless mutt!"

the words...the slap, everything was too much, as you tried to eat the soup, but the blows kept coming, some even punching you into the soup until your face was soaked in the dense liquid. your face felt bruised, every punch felt even worst each time.

when you managed to finish the soup, or when the soup was all over your face and on the floor, he stopped, and stared at you, fuming rage clouded his vision to the point where you couldn't gaze into them, he scoffed and nudged your face with his boot, making you look at him

"try to fucking run away again, i'll break your legs"

it was not a threat.

it was a fucking promise.

you began trembling and trying to back away but not managing because of the tight chain on your ankle.

"behave you worthless mutt." and with that, he turned around and closed the door.

it had been a few days since he took you out of the punishment room, he made you sit on the floor, right next to his chair, where his greasy and dirty hand toyed with your hair mindlessly, dirtying it. even though he had taken you out of your isolation, it was still a punishment every day.

bathtime? spray you down with a hose.

sleeping? on the dark squeaking floor.

eating? like a damn dog on the floor devouring a cold, unsavoury soup.

he kept you as a pet, and he was a bad owner.

right now you were in deep sleep, shuddering on the cold floor, your side was bruising

against it, until you felt a calloused hand wrap around your arm and hoisted you up.

"huh?" you groaned but got no response as you were dragged to the bed, you were fully awake when you laid, you tried to get up, only for a lanky dirty arm to pull you down to the bed again, you were about to panic

"sleep you worm" he growled and all you could do was lay down next to him, it was uncomfortable how he was spooning you, feeling his chest against your back as he hugged you as if you were a teddy bear.

"Hmm, you'll never leave me will you?" he chuckles "you need me" it was a sleepy mumble but it iced you to the core, and that's how you understood

you were never leaving.

© PAPUHATER ; DO NOT COPY OR MODIFY

#edward nygma x reader #batman x reader #riddler x reader #riddler #dc x reader #the riddler #the riddler x reader

[skyss-personal-hell]

As a fellow biter, I loved those hcs sm. In light of this, I present to you another one of my muses thoughts. Ahem, hosing them down with cold water. (P.S I hope you're alright)

-Previous anon

AYYYYYYY IM DOING CHILL RN HBU??? ANYWAYS ILYSM FOR UR IDEAS (/p) MWAHAHAHAHAHAH I’ll do the same characters as last time unless u want others thennnnnn oh well I’ll make more😈 Funny thing I usually listen to Mitski while writing these lol (gotta balance out the sad and silly) anywho I’ve chugged like 3 monsters so TIME TO WRITEEEE😋 Also i’m basing this kinda off of where I live cuz it’s HOT AS BALLS NO JOKE ITS 95 DEGREES BUT FEELS LIKE 103 WHAT THE FUCK NEBRASKA

Jouno (ehehehehehe my silly scrunkly ahjsndksnsjsmjsks)

• He’s pissed.

• Just standing there like “What the fuck is wrong with you”

• Yes, it was hot out but you made the water as COLD as possible by throwing some ice cubes with it.

• He was being extra sour and just a dick to everyone soooooo he kinda deserved it.

• As soon as the initial shock of the temperature change is over he scolds you for being so dumb as to do that.

“Cmon it was funnyyyy!”

The soaking wet man in front of you was not humored. In fact he seems to be more agitated.

“NO IT WASN’T!”

You laugh and scream as he runs at you with the hose. He quickly catches up to you duh but it’s still fun.

Dazai (ngh i want him so bad)

• He was just sitting enjoying the outdoors until you came along

• Was probs reminiscing of the past tbh

• Shocked. Absolutely shocked.

• How could you do this to him?!

• Would probably chase you with the hose (less viscously than Jouno but still)

• He’s laughing along with you as he runs after you

“I’m gonna get you!”

“Pssssshhh no you won’t! I’m waaaay faster!”

Right after that he had successfully caught up with you and sprayed the cold water on you.

At least you’re both soaking

Ranpo

• Absolutely devastated.

• You two were sitting outside together and he was eating his snacks

• YOU GOT HIS SNACKS WET😡

• He pesters and bugs you until you buy him new snacks

• Whines and complains that now he’s soaking wet

“YOU GOT MY CANDY WET!”

You shrug

“It’s still perfectly edible.”

He gives you the most disgusted and disturbed look in the world.

You ended up buying him new snacks…

Yosano (i love her sm)

• You die. (/hj)

• She would be absolutely furious

• Like more than Jouno

• Good luck

She didn’t say a word. Only smiling, menacingly.

Yosano then came running at you with her big ass knife thingy-mabobber (cleaver? idfk)

You then have to run for your life have fun!

This is probably gonna be the last post I make today before I go to work 😭 but I’ll check when I’m back in like 3-5 hours 🔥🔥 Take care or urselves and ILYALL SM 💜💜💜💜

#bungou gay dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs jouno #jouno saigiku #yosano akiko #yosano headcanons #bungou stray dogs yosano #ranpo headcanons #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo edogawa #dazaibsd #dazai headcanons #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #big thanks to bsd generator

[lahotelbellamuerte]

𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - v. eternal love [永遠のラブ]

— ❀ series masterlist ❀ —

pairing; Han seoul-oh x amara!oc warning; fluff, mostly none, not proofread word count; 2.4k notes; this was just an extra content bit, before the start of the fast 6? i think... or seven—eh idk rn. but it does pick up after this.

IT HAD BEEN A NORMAL DAY, when Han knew he would marry Amara.The girl he had underestimated when he first arrived in Tokyo. Meeting her in a dingy small restaurant wasn't the best first impression of what she was capable of. The only thing that drew him closer to her was curiosity.

He found her rosy cheeks, glossy lips, and confidence, adorable. Nothing more, nothing less. That was until the girl offered him a night he would never forget. That night just so happened to be the day he finally walked into the underground business of Tokyo. All because of a blonde schoolgirl.

He was sitting above at his shop watching the blonde below.  Black overalls tied to her waist as she took apart the engine of a car. Hair tied up in a messy low bun, while her gloved hands removed a hose putting it aside. Unscrewing more bolts and putting them by the ridge of a windshield. Learning further on the car, she wiggled the piece in question. With a loud clang, the alternator fell to the floor. Pushing herself off the car she smiled and lifted the car a few inches to grab the old rusty alternator.

It was fascinating watching her work. He would've never thought she was that talented. Thanks to her father who was also a car fanatic she had someone to learn from. Making sure she would never need anyone's help. He admired that from her. Even though her image was completely the opposite of what she knew how to do. She dressed in bedazzled clothes, short skirts, and shirts. Her baby face was surrounded by the heavenly blonde hair, her rosy cheeks, and to top it off her always glittering lips, lined with lip gloss.

Mesmerized, he watched as she put a new alternator back, and begin putting piece by piece back. It wasn't like he was watching her for a few minutes, everyone could notice his eyes not leaving the blonde. They had yet to know if the two were together, but didn't want to question it.

Walking to the driver's door, Amara stepped on the clutch as she started the car, slowly letting the pedal go. Smiling as she heard the engine rumble properly, the way it should've. Turning it off, she moved to close the hood. Holding it with one hand, she removed the prop stick and let it fall with a snap.

Taking a breath she nodded and headed upstairs to where her secret boyfriend sat. His hands are occupied with an empty beer bottle. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight, "You do realize there is nothing in that bottle?" she asked him sitting on the chair next to him.

He looked down and noticed she was right. Having been watching her for so long, made him not realize that it was empty. He chuckled and placed the bottle on a nearby table, "I knew that Princess," he replied.

Reaching for a water bottle she chugged it for a while, "Well the Skyline runs as good as new," she commented her eyes trailing to the blue Skyline below.

He nodded and looked over at her, "Want to go for a drive?" he suddenly asked her. The sudden need to be around her took over him.

"Sure mine or yours?" she asked referring to their cars.

Getting up he dug the keys from his pocket, "Mine, let's go," he said fighting the urge with himself to hold her hand. They had yet to come out to the whole public about their relationship. He knew people suspected the two, but no one ever had the guts to ask or call them out.

The two hopped into Han's Mazda, the very one she had gifted him. Driving off he reached for her hand kissing it slightly before moving his to the shift knob.

"Where are you taking me this time?" she asked her eyes on the long-haired man beside her.

Han glanced over at her for a second before smirking, "The place we love the most," he said looking forward.

Amara squealed, "Tokyo Disneyland?" she asked excitedly, not knowing it was the wrong answer.

He looked over to her, "You're joking," he said in disbelief.

The blonde shook her head, "No, why would I be joking?" she replied hoping they were going there.

Shaking his head he sighed, "Only for you Amara, only for you," he said, changing lanes to merge onto a highway that led them towards Urayasu, Japan. The corner of his lip lifted slightly as she squealed once more, leaning from her seat to plant a kiss onto the corner of his mouth, as he was driving.

"Love you Han!" she said turning to look at the outside move in a blur as they drove half an hour away from Tokyo.

"I know princess, love you too," he mumbled his hand still on the steering wheel as he maneuvered his way around other cars.

There was nothing more perfect he found about Amara. A young woman who was sweet as a cherry, but anyone who messed with her, knew she was hard as the pit to the cherry. He had grown to love the spontaneous blonde.

More often then not, he would see the Skyline swerve to the side and ask him to get in. Each time took the duo going to new places he hadn't seen. Never had he been more thankful for a woman like her.

He remembered the first time he saw her in her school uniform. It had been months since his move to Tokyo, already having something established for himself. Going to pick his money from certain areas that he now began to claim. He froze as he grabbed the cash, his eyes trained on the walking figure.

Her long blonde hair blew softly in the wind, her face showing no emotion as she walked forward.  His eyes moved down to her white button-down, her tie hanging loosely around her neck. As the blazer with the school crest on her shoulder, and not forgetting the plaid skirt ending around her mid-thigh. Her black socks match her mary janes on her feet.

After school, Amara wasn't the one to care about her surroundings, wearing the stuffy uniform all day made her a bit snarky. Her bag slung against her shoulder as she slowly moved past people.  He felt sick to his stomach when the thought of her looking attractive crossed his mind. The girl wasn't even twenty and he was thinking things he shouldn't. Turning from her direction he grabbed the cash and entered his Skyline he had brought with him, from LA. 

The teen never knew that Han had seen her that day, and never would. Not ever knowing the moment Han started to fall for her. He kicked himself for days after that. Ignoring her as he would see her at races with her friend Neela and Takashi.

The blonde not helping with wearing her short flowy dresses to the shows. Her pretty shiny pink lips along with her doe eyes briefly glancing at him. Making him look or walk away from her. Not wanting to face the facts that he had gained feelings for her.

It wasn't until a few days after, that Amara cornered him in an elevator. Pressing the emergency stop button to talk to him, "Why have you been ignoring me?" she asked her hands resting on her hips. A short plaid skirt hugged her hips, leaving a sliver of her waist to show as she wore a lilac cropped tank top.

Han sighed knowing he couldn't run away from this, "I'm sorry Amara, but we—" he paused to shut his eyes for a second before glancing the ceiling light, "—I can't be near you, I'm not good for you," he said believing that she shouldn't be near an older man like himself.

Amara snorted rolling her pretty brown eyes, that he couldn't look away from, "Please, that's a lie and you know it, " she said crossing her arms leaning on one hip.

The man didn't move for a while, he just looked at her in front of him. Not once did she shift under his gaze, not once did she look uncomfortable. She was everything Giselle wasn't. She wasn't some girl that knew her way around danger, wasn't an expert driver, didn't know her way around cars as she had. But boy, was he very wrong about that. And just like all the men that crossed in her life, he would learn who Amara really is. Han Seoul-Oh had a type and he had yet to know.

Without a moment's thought, the school girl closed the gap between them. Sickeningly enough he kissed back, loving the taste of the cherry lip gloss on her mouth. He moved his large hands to her waist as she moved hers to the back of his head running and pulling on his hair.

Realizing his actions he pulled away breathlessly, he watched as Amara started the elevator again. Digging to her skirt pocket. She pulled out a tube of lip gloss, unscrewing it she began applying it to her pink lips. As her eyes never left his. The elevator dinged as she capped the tube, "See you soon, Han," and said waving her fingers walking out of the elevator as nothing had happened.

He was stunned by the boldness of the girl. Chuckling to himself he knew maybe it wasn't going to be all that bad chasing after the blonde schoolgirl.

"Disney!" Amara squealed as she could see the tall castles from a distance, "Han we're here!" she said leaning towards the window.

Pulling to the park, he handed the cash over for the parking, not minding the small price. For his girlfriend who was basically jumping up and down her seat. Pulling the car into a space, she flew out of the car. Running over to his side and pulling on his hand as he locked the car.

For the next few hours he was pulled from ride to ride. Amara laughing as the wind flew past her hair for most of the rides. Han just loves the sound as he smiles softly following her around.

The entire time a smile never left her face, letting her almost unnoticeable dimples appear on her face. His second favorite thing from that day besides her smile was the rides he didn't go on with her. She was unbothered as she was a very sociable person. He watched from afar as men were enamored by the blonde that spoke Japanese. Flushing from the fact that someone like her was on the ride with them.

The blonde didn't think anything of it, sharing the ride with most often men, who have seen her in the single riding cart. After the ride, most of the men tried talking or asking if she'd like to join them. But Amara just bowed and thanked them for their time. Each of the men watched as she walked over to a long-haired man leaning on some fence grabbing his hand.

He loved the confusion that fell on their face. All of them disappointed that she had been taken, by an older man nonetheless. Jealousy and embarrassment joined soon after the realization.

When night finally fell on the park, the two gathered around with everyone else to watch the fireworks. The loud colorful bangs joined with music surrounding the park. His hands around her body as she leaned back into his chest, looking up at the colorful sky.

In the middle of the show, she turned to face him. Her head looking up at the taller man, "Thank you for today Han, I love you more than you know," she said leaning forward to hug him.

He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head, "And I love you, there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you," he replied meaning every word. Smiling knowing the day he would marry this woman and he'd make the best decision.

The ride back home was quiet, a comfortable silence sat between the two. The lights from the outside made her at peace. Something about the neon lights brought her peace. Turning her head towards him she spoke up, "Can I sleepover at yours?"

Han glanced at her briefly and nodded, "Sure thing princess," he replied and made his way towards his apartment with Amara falling asleep on the driver's seat. Her head faced him as she had done so.

Parking the car he opened his door and made it around to Amara's, "C'mon Am," he said softly placing her arms around his shoulders, reaching for her thighs, subconsciously she wrapped them around his hips, as her head nestled into his neck. The small girl was light as he carried her.

Shutting the door, he locked it. Making his way up a few stairs to his door. Opening the door, he made his way through, closing it behind him. Walking down the hallway, he made it to his room the window open letting in the light from the neon signs. Laying Amara down, he untied her creased black Nike high-tops.

He leaned toward her, "Do you want the overalls on?" he asked her softly, his finger lingering on the zipper. 

The blonde mumbled shaking her head. Her consciousness between being asleep and awake. Reaching he untied the sleeves from her hips, then unbuttoned them, lowering the zipper he hooked his fingers on the hem and pulled them down her thighs. Her legs kicking to get them off.

Han chuckled at the sight of her white cotton underwear with a watermelon slice on her hip. Going into his closet she pulled out a shirt of his laying it beside her. As he reaches for the hem of her cropped shirt, "C'mon doll," he mumbled as she arched her back and lifted her hands as he slid it off her. Shaking his head as her breast were bare to him, nipples hardening from the cool air. Slipping her arms through the arm loops, he pushed it through her head. Struggling to bring it down all the way to her body.

"There you go pretty girl," he finished letting her finally get comfortable under the sheets.

Han made his way to brush his teeth and removed his clothes to throw on a pair of sweats. Then joining the blonde in bed. He felt her shift in the bed, turning to shove her face into his side as her leg wrapped around him. For a while, he just looked at her. The red neon signs casting a soft glow on her smooth skin.

"One day I'll marry you, Amara, making me the happiest man," he whispered into the air.

—well thank you for reading once again. I will see you in All too Well, there rest of the fast saga.

#han seoul oh x oc #han seoul oh #han lue #the fast and the furious #tokyo drift

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Dinner- Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Erin Strauss, David Rossi

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- My request would be; Aaron Hotchner x reader-Y/n is Strauss' daughter (it would have to be e teenage pregnancy as Strauss was born in 1959 and Aaron 1965 and I don't want an age gap that big, not that I have anything against it but yeah🤷🏻‍♀️) -reader has a good relationship with Erin, even with her drinking problems (which are in the past) - reader and Aaron have been seeing each other for a while now and he doesn't know readers is Strauss' daughter. -one day reader and Strauss decide to have dinner together and to introduce Aaron to Erin, but Erin also wants to introduce Rossi to her only child, with whom she still has a good relationship -they are going to have dinner at readers Hose, but Erin shows up with Rossi -Neither Hotch, not Rossi knew that Hotch was seeing Strauss' daughter and Rossi Strauss even though they are best friends -there's a bot of tension and Strauss has to accept the relationship, but threatens Aaron; 'If you hurt her I have you fired blah, blah, but they end up having a good dinner together and then all 4 watch a movie and the respective couples cuddle🤷🏻‍♀️😇

Word Count: 430

Author: Charlotte

Dinner with your mother was normally a tense affair. You got along with her well, but it often felt like a job interview than dinner with a parent. Tonight, was only going to be worse. You had been in a serious relationship for about six months, and you hadn’t introduced him to your mother yet- partially due to knowing no one would be good enough for her daughter, but mainly because they already knew each other.

When you first met Aaron, you knew he worked in the FBI, but it wasn’t until a couple of months into the relationship that you found out he works in the BAU, where your mother was section chief. You had already started falling for him and you didn’t want your mother to get in the way of another relationship but there was only so much time you could spend hiding the fact that they had this personal connection.

You had called your mother to invite her over for dinner to meet your boyfriend and she suggested that she invited her new boyfriend so the four of you could all be introduced. You felt bad for the poor guy that he was getting roped into this likely terrible dinner.

Aaron arrived first, assuring you that everything would be fine, ignoring the fact that you had practically chugged your glass of wine, to try and numb the anxiety.

When the doorbell rung, it felt as though your heart jumped up into your throat. Aaron gave your hand a gentle squeeze before practically dragging you to the front door, opening it to your demise.

Your mum’s mouth opened, the words lost to her as she stared, baffled by the people she saw.

“Aaron?” She demanded.

“Erin?”

“David?” You questioned.

“Y/N.”

The four of you stood staring at each other, three FBI agents and the scared woman that had arranged the dinner.

“Mum, come in,” you squeaked, scurrying from Aaron’s side, hoping that if you didn’t look at your mother, she wouldn’t implode.

“You’re with Aaron Hotchner?” Your mother shouted after you.

You let out the breath you had been holding. “Evidently. And you’re with David Rossi… it’s a small world… or a small office.”

You heard David whisper something, likely to try and calm your mother, before someone offloaded the weapon that you knew all three of them practically always had on them.

“Y/N,” David smiled. “Why don’t we grab some wine for us all, and leave these two to get… for the lack of better words… acquainted?”

A nervous grin curled upon your lips. “Perfect idea.”

#Dinner #Request #Aaron Hotchner #Aaron Hotchner Imagine #Aaron Hotchner One Shot #Hotch #Hotch Imagine #Hotch One Shot #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds One Shot #Criminal Minds Imagine #CM #CM Imagine #CM One Shot #Charlotte

[gust-jar-simulator]

Okay time for unhinged crossover logic.

There are two Links I like to subject to vampire drama: Four (I really need to invent a tag for those rambles) and Wild. To sum up the way I write them fast and dirty, the methods are as follows:

Four: In Four Swords Adventures, the split Links explode into force gems (crystallized life that is also money) when they die, and in either that game or Four Swords can be resurrected by sacrificing force gems. In addition, the Four Sword itself feeds on/must be powered up by force gems. Therefore, considering how closely tied his existence is to the sword by this point, Four must feed it (and by extension himself) life force or suffer consequences. He can improvise to a limited extent by feeding on elemental magic, or living blood, but none of it is as efficient as force gems.

Wild: After being killed by magic lasers that may or may not have been able to infect his body with Malice like a horrible STD, his brain got completely rewired by Sheikah tech. An argument could be made that he's a cyborg on some level, the Shrine of Resurrection flooding his veins with nanobots or any other sci fi method of keeping a corpse breathing. As such, like other forms of Sheikah tech, he is vulnerable to infection by Malice and the call of the Blood Moon, and might be able to literally cannibalize Guardians to repair himself as well as drain energy from shrines and towers.

(Also as a side note, considering the horrors of teleportation tech, the Sheikah database has likely memorized what makes Wild and how he was put together, and could theoretically generate another one of him if he dies again.)

Where am I inputting my crossover logic?

I've been sitting here for the past hour thinking about the concept of diablerie from Vampire: The Masquerade. To distill it to the essentials, diablerie is the act of a vampire drinking another vampire's blood to the point of final death, consuming even the soul. This has advantages in that you obtain their power level and abilities. A major disadvantage, however, involves the "consuming the soul" bit- if you're not strong enough, the vampire you ate could overwhelm your consciousness. Uno reverse is a bitch.

Diablerie also happens to be addicting, because getting a little sippy of life force is nothing compared to the pleasure of completely consuming a soul.

I started my idea of vampire!Wild with a singular image in my head: Wild's face and arms smeared with bluish fluids, sucking on a broken hose yanked from the undercarriage of an upturned guardian.

The thing is, most every guardian in the game has been infected by Malice. Wild is absolutely the type to investigate new things via biting and ask questions later, and he can successfully eat monster parts (as well as monster essence) without many complications. We've all tried to cook guardian parts into an elixir at least once. But I can't help wondering if it's like the difference between mineral iron and organic iron- chewing on metal won't give a human any nutrition, but we can get the iron we need from meat. Maybe Wild's augmentations can filter out the consequences of eating raw hinox liver, but they might be vulnerable to Malice that has adapted to the shape of a magitech electronic virus.

I love the idea of his normal instincts (food heals) getting influenced by magitech input (cannibalize broken tech), and it's not like he has commendable impulse control that would second-guess the urge to drink robot coolant. Stuck in the middle of Hyrule Field with the last of his kebabs gone, why not try it?

Have you ever been so thirsty that you go for a sip and then start chugging because the water feels much better going down than you expected, jaws practically latching onto it like a stubborn wolf?

I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about the idea that if Wild feeds on guardians to fuel his own internal systems, he's insanely vulnerable. And if he goes too far, is the infection something that would burn out? Would he just have his own private Blood Moon event, ripping through the countryside until he finally blacked out, or would the virus puppet him past the point of consciousness? I don't think the Sheikah really understood the concept of firewalls or antiviruses. Why would they need any?

Four, by contrast, is less vulnerable to any kind of corruption (barring, perhaps, dark magic) but much more vulnerable to the pitfalls of being a well-adjusted civilized human faced with the urge to devour life energy. Starving even though he's eaten a three course meal. Thirsty even though he's drank an entire bucket, or tried to. The human body doesn't have the signals necessary to covey your sword is starved for energy, wires are bound to cross in confusing and ugly ways. Headaches, weird cramps, until finally the sword he reshaped starts altering him in turn.

Hylians eat with their mouths and kill with their hands. A sword eats and kills with the same organ, but the base instinct of magic could get the point across well enough. If he won't eat by stabbing, maybe he'll eat if the magic makes his Hylian body more effective- steel claws and steel fangs, the better to gut monsters with. Or people. It's not like the sword has preferences, it just has hunger. Symbiosis is a two way street: Four made the sword, infused it, empowered it. The sword, in turn, broke him down and remade him. They're the same creature with the same needs, now. He just needs to realize it before the hunger gets out of control.

The thing is, he's used to fighting dark magic. Depending on your take, and if you utilize the manga, he could find a lot of comfort in the presence of dark magic. If they suspect they're becoming some kind of demon, or infected with some demon urge, Shadow would be their first thought. If they were to confide in anyone about dark urges, who better than the demon who asked them to indulge those in the first place? They miss him. He'd comfort them. He'd soothe whatever burning need this is.

If you don't want to use the manga, dark magic is still a comfort in that it's a preferred target, uncomplicated and simple. You don't have to worry about the morality of attacking a creature made of shadow. It's fine. It's quite possibly the only fine target to have.

Whenever I think about the possibility of vampire!Four losing control, I come down to two options. He's an extremely controlled person by necessity, considering the state of his brain. He thinks twice about literally everything he does. It would take quite a lot of pressure for him to drop that control, past the point of manageable and straight into "you cannot afford to be afraid to injure him, because he's Ruthless and Not Listening". With Wild, preferred prey would be Sheikah tech followed up by whatever the Malice wants dead. With Four?

He's going to find the nearest source of dark magic and bite the fuck out of it, either because Shadow is safety Shadow can fix this, or it's okay to rip and tear a thing this dark, I can let go and be a monster to a thing like this.

In other words, Twilight is in danger. Dark is also in danger, he's just not typically close enough to bite.

I'll come back to this at some point, but I wanted it out here.

#lu four #lu wild #my writing

[ftm2bbw]

God, and what if I feed you while I fucked you? Forced a hose into your mouth and told you that if you didn't finish every last drop before I came inside you, you'd be edged into oblivion. Reminding you that your fat is helping to turn excess testosterone back into estrogen, making you into more of a woman with each pound you gain. Feeding you and breeding you at the same time.

Mmm, I wouldn’t have a choice but to chug it all down then, wouldn’t I? Swallow after swallow of pure, heavy calories. All but guaranteed to make me even fatter. Heavier. More feminine. More helpless.

My belly swelling fuller and fuller as you fuck me. A foreshadowing of the effect your breeding will have…

#god I need it #ask.txt

[morvantmortuary]

venting some writer’s angst out in the general universe so I don’t have to hurgle it at anyone specific:

- having a hard time writing fiction bc I feel so guilty for being behind on my dissertation

- don’t want to write my dissertation bc it stresses me out and there’s a lot of pressure

- don’t want to write my dissertation bc the actual job openings in my field rn are so few and far between that it makes it really hard to want to write a hundred pages plus of academic writing that might not ever actually matter

- feel deeper in a hole bc I have to graduate by august and my parents are going to flip out

- feel frustrated I can’t write what I actually want to write and take it seriously and give it my full attention bc it’s what I want to do with my life for real when I graduate

- feel very lucky to have very supportive fellow writers and friends, understand what a true blessing that is, but sometimes still a bit burnt out bc I can work for ages on something original that’s really important to me and it won’t get a tenth as far as something with the tag of the latest netfl*x blorbo slapped on it

- understand that’s part of the deal posting on the blue hellsite, but come on, where else am I supposed to go?

- feel frustrated that even here, a thing I enjoy and do for fun, I feel super behind and can’t keep up with anything current like asks or challenges between work and grad school stuff

- get so stressed out I’m out here trying to fend off a cold and it’s like trying to fight off a bear when all you have is a garden hose

anyway! thanks for letting me get that out :’D I’m gonna go chug some more OJ and try to remember to breathe

#and then rarae says #I have so many WIPs for this blog but then I sit down and try to work and feel like there’s wasps in my brain #I know it’s all Part of It. but still. #I want to devote my life to queer horror and writing it and discussing it #but that feels so stupid impossible right now #idk. idk idk idk!

[historia-vitae-magistras]

How do you think Arthur would react to physically aging? On one hand I think he'd appreciate looking more distinguished and not getting dismissed for looking younger than he is in daily life. And would probably also prefer to actually look like his kids father rather than peer. But on the other hand, as nation is there a sense of dread? Do lines and grey hair bring fear that he might actually grow old and die like a normal mortal? Or worse, that he might grow old and not die, but still have his body and mind deteriorate around him? I feel signs of aging would be far worse for a largely immortal being that generally doesn't have to think about it.

Mm. Not really. The way I write aging in nations is pretty removed from human biological deterioration. I think it was confusing but also hard to pinpoint.

So, I'm not sure if anyone else sees it this way but I tie aging less to how old they are or what their power level is but more to environmental degradation. So for Arthur, the absolute worst of that would coincide with his peak power so its a very strange contradiction, finding crows feet and throwing his back out when he's supposed to be the most powerful empire the world has ever known.

He's always been a hard drinker and not the best at the whole eating sleeping and being a person thing so he's probably putting away the laudanum and inhaling the smorgasbord board of disease and pollution that was a British city in the 19th century. Then there's the variable in that any time on the water adds to premature aging being as people are absolutely battered by the elements and sun is reflected off the water and ice so he used to looking pretty rough. But Empire is the most foul pollutant at home and abroad and he's chugging poison. Hose him down, throw him in a uniform and he'll look fine but for people who knew him pre-empire its a marked difference.

But as nations clean themselves up in the 20th and 21st century with a lifestyle that has antibiotics for TB, slow down on the coke and the smokes, looks at the odd tree, gets a bit of sun and even occasionally includes a vegetable with the grog things get better. Arthur especially looks much better than a century ago. It doesn't magically spring him back to the 20 he was during the Wars of the Roses but he and the rest of the old world generally don't look like they're about to keel over anymore either.

#Arthur || stone set in the silver sea #I really can't tell you how much better people look in the modern day compared to history #eat a vegetable and praise science #the ask box || probis pateo #meatsack mechanics || the sociology and biology of nations

[readyplayerziggy]

In a serious chugging train of horny thought tonight. Chugging from milk jugs, long streams of it going down acres of sweaty, stretched fat.

Chugging from barrels or oil drums, fat arms quaking as they struggle to keep it overhead and stumbling to not fall back and spill the contents all over themself.

Chugging from hoses or funnels, countless amounts of drink waiting for you, getting poured into your mouth at a more measured pace or you forcing your body through a growing exhaustion to suck down every last drop of it.

#just a thought

[safetycar-restart]

enjoy this unhinged imagine of spending date night with sub!charles: on his yacht! with time stamps… and lots of kinky stuff 😌

[4 PM] the spot's isolated, the view’s great (it’s him. he is the view), paparazzi don’t bother this late when you’re far out, plus he knows the sea like the back of his sexy hand. before sunset, all you do is lay on your towel and watch him play in the water.

[4:30] charles is so silly, he always has to dive for the ball you’re passing him. you take so. many. fucking. pictures of your wet pretty boy. re-slathering him in sunscreen = mommy’s favorite activity. even the risque spots. you love when charles — ticklish as he is — squeals from all the relentless pinching. at least he won’t burn in the sun now 🦀😉

[5 PM] no, charles doesn’t have a red ass from spanking for once. it’s because he tried a rather experimental jump into the water. i swear he just craves pain. the man still can’t sit, so mister greek statue stands, dousing himself with a water hose for your viewing pleasure. he’s got the sexy yellow ICON swim shorts on because those are a must, and they really do fucking stick to his skin 👀

[5:30 PM] the barbecue? smoking like a stove. still not as hot as him! charles does all the cooking and cleaning for his goddess. even the dessert he prepped in the morning. you’ll probably eat it off his abs if we’re honest. a forehead kiss follows — you praise him for the tasty meal, only to snuggle and smooch together in a hammock on deck.

[6:45 PM] he makes sure he freshens/dresses up nicely in a black satin tux, black tie, cuffs, shiny shoes. mistress always picks his clothes. second dinner ahead: the yacht's master bedroom.

[7:10 PM] you rile up the incredulous cutie with a slow lapdance and pull his tie… which makes him go promptly insane 😊 no filter, these gorgeous moans are so damn loud. still dressed, he humps a pillow with no permission to cum, a thumb between your legs. you opt for riding his face to suffocate your honey bun as he deserves.

[8 PM] in typical fashion, charles is busy chugging liters of water after making you cum. the night gets worked up, you rip off his tuxedo, charles needs to feel some red ropes on his body. somebody ends up blindfolded, harnessed and tied to the bed with a hopeless erection unattended to. cue your favorite cock ring, some cane strokes to his thighs… until you edge him with a fleshlight, he swears his mind is breaking apart. pretty kitty will cry and gasp for air 😽

[8:30] this beautiful body twitching and straining is too stunning not to film. after charles feels like he died a thousand deaths and still throbs, you have him cum into his own curled palm. good boys lick up their mess! darling painstakingly cleans his hand with his mouth and chokes on those fingers like a champ. safe to say he’s all demolished… and you have so much juicy video footage of your beloved sub 💕

didn’t have a clue what aftercare/untying scenario would follow this up best, that’s where you come in ✍️ the suspense rises… how would the evening go on? 🤔

- george’s long legs anon 👕 enjoying your blog which is just marvelous, doing god’s work!! this is the place to be on f1 smutblr 🔥👌

👕 anon you are truly extraordinary. This is just… you keep on dropping these absolute masterpieces out of nowhere and I dont think I’ll ever recover from it.

Firstly, he’s planned this for AGES. One of his favourite things about owning a yacht is that he gets to take you on it, that you and him can just spend an evening or an entire day on the water together.

Especially because it’s something that Charles loves so so much? So getting to share it with his dom? Incredible. I also think he’s very protective of that time with you? He makes sure to not let his plans slip, because then his friends might ask to join. And he doesn’t want that!!! This is for his Dom and his dom only!!!

Of course charles knows the perfect place, and I think that he’s sentimental enough that he might always pick the same anchorage? Sure he’ll often explore new places with you, but when it’s time to just spend an evening today then he’ll always pick the same place.

He spends the first hour or so just playing in the water. Of course you’re more than welcome to join him in the water, but you could also just chill and watch him. He loves jumping into the sea, making a big plash and then coming out of the water and straight to you, giggling with his hair a complete mess.

And yes, sunscreen is VERY important. Your sweet boy is very sensitive to the sun and he completely forgets to put the sunscreen on himself. However he never complains when you call him over for more sunscreen, firstly because he’s a good boy but also because he would never complain about your hands on him.

Of course he always gets plenty of kisses to distract him until enough time has gone by that he can get back in the water.

Then, once he’s tired himself out then he simply must douse himself off with the water hose right in front of you. And yes, he does let his swim trunks fall dangerously low on his hips and yes he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows his mommy’s eyes are on him and he wants to give a good show.

And yes he makes dinner himself. Honestly people who make fun of Charles cooking either haven’t experienced it or have only experienced it when he’s in a hurry. Because he does a great job for you.

Though that be because you’re the one who fucks him, yeah it’s probably that.

And the cuddles on the hammock after dinner and a requirement. You must do so. Charles literally got the hammock installed JUST for cuddles with you. He got one big enough for three people to ensure the two of you would fit comfortably and have the perfect cuddle space.

So he gets his cuddles and his kisses there. That’s where you start to work him up, praising him for the meal he made, thanking him for taking you out, calling him the sweetest prettiest sub you could ever ask for. He starts to get all wriggly in your arms, beginning to get turned on from all the touches and praise and kisses.

That’s when you send him off the bedroom to get changed into the clothes you’ve set out for him. He never knows what he’ll find there. You might have put a skirt out or lingerie or a full suit it something. Tonight it’s a full suit, because you want to undress him.

Riding his face while he’s still on the suit is incredible? You make him lay on his back so he doesn’t have anything to grind against, and you can see how hard he is in his fancy suit pants. His hips desperately on their own accord, trying to get some friction but he doesn’t ask for anything because he’s having the time of his life.

Even though he’s so desperate that there’s literally a wet spot of precum on his pants, he still doesn’t ask for more because he’s a good boy.

Then you have to undress him, treating him like you’re unwrapping the most fragile present and then you just have to tie him. You almost feel bad for edging him, but you desperately want to see him cry from pleasure.

And he does. Tears running down his cheeks as he’s begging you to let him cum. Of course you have to use your hand to actually make him cum, to hold him close and stroke his cock exactly how he likes until he’s crying out and spilling all over your hand.

Then he gets more cuddles on the hammock for a little while, feeling so happy and safe and warm and so so relaxed.

He gets cuddles for about an hour and then it’s time to head back to the dock. Charles drives the yacht and you hug him from behind. He’s fine being in control of that, as long as you hug him from behind the entire time and praise him once he’s docks the boat.

Then you’ll drive the two of you home, letting Charles keep his hand on your thigh for comfort and then he gets even more cuddles and praise.

It’s really just the perfect night.

#sub!charles #cl #nsfw. #f!reader #soft soft vibes #👕

[breedaboyd]

Day 16 ~ Overheat

Prompt: Public.

Pairing: Mo Lundy × (Pre-Op) FTM!Reader.

Word Count: 4.2k+

CW: Cum-swallowing, oral sex, outdoor sex, public/semi-public sex, sweat, throat-fucking, vaginal sex.

Mo's been working like a dog (no pun intended) these last few days.

The heat wave has meant the dogs are uncomfortable so there's more work to be done. He's constantly hosing them down or cleaning out their runs and kennels. There's a fair amount of overheating too and Mo has had to bring quite a few over to Linda for help. Because of the extra workload he hasn't had a ton of time to talk to you, despite working in the same shelter. You try to help Mo out where you can, like bringing him water or lunch and Linda even offered to take on some dogs so Mo wouldn't have to hose them down so many times a day. But it didn't seem like he could slow down.

But as the heat wave is starting to break, things are slowing down. There's been a noticeable difference today. The dogs are settling down, they're less irritable and the runs are a lot cleaner. But Mo is still drenched in sweat, his hair slicking to his forehead as moisture trickles down his temples. You hand Mo another water bottle that you grabbed from the fridge and he chugs it.

"Thanks." He says, wiping his mouth.

"You doing okay?" You ask, taking the empty bottle from him and tossing it in the recycling bin. You drink in the sight of him; his arms glistening with sweat, the way his boiler suit clings to his body, his toned chest and abs... You lick your lips and look up at Mo. His tired eyes soften as he smiles.

"Better now." Mo replies. Your cheeks warm and your heart skips a beat but the moment is broken when Linda calls for you.

"Hey, can one of you give this dog his medication please?" She asks, holding a plastic cup with a little bit of green-coloured liquid.

"I'll do it." You say softly. Mo follows behind you into one of the runs where a small terrier mix is sat. He's panting slightly and looks pretty uncomfortable. You squat down so you're level with the dog and smile, holding the cup close to him.

"Here's the nasty stuff." You coo. The dog sniffs the liquid then licks the rim of the cup before snuffling. "I know, bud, but if you wanna kick that infection, you're gonna have to take it." You sigh, petting his head gently. Mo watches you, smiling fondly as you try and encourage the dog to drink the medicine. He notices Linda smirking at him from the kennel over and realises how love struck he must look. But he doesn't really care. He likes you and has been trying to figure out a way to ask you out but he's nervous. He doesn't want to ruin what he has with you.

Once the terrier has taken his medication, you pet his head and rub his belly. "There's a good boy..." And you have to stop yourself for a moment, suddenly going light-headed as you brace yourself against the side of the kennel. Heat floods through you and a wave of sweat beads along your skin. God, it's still so hot... Mo notices the way you sway on your feet and rushes over, kneeling beside you.

"You okay?" He asks, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Heat getting to me, I think." You reply, closing your eyes for a moment and taking a few deep breaths.

"C'mon, let's get you sat down." Mo helps you stand and guides you back outside, to get some fresh air. Linda wanders over.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Just the heat. He's okay." Mo replies. Linda hums thoughtfully and places her hands on her hips.

"You keep an eye on him. I'll finish up here."

"You sure?" Mo asks.

"Positive." Linda says firmly before heading back inside.

Mo leads you over to a bench and helps you sit down. The shade the building provides is a massive help and the breeze feels amazing. But you're still sweating. And, God, does he wear the heat well; his skin glistens and you can't help but imagine running your tongue along Mo's body, tasting the salt on his skin, the heat of his flesh... You lick your lips and squeeze your thighs together, biting your lip. But he's eying you up too; your wide, desperate eyes, the sweat clinging to your brow, the way you squirm... This is the kind of sweet, sticky heat that makes people do stupid, crazy things... Mo clears his throat and swallows thickly.

"It's so damn hot." You groan. Mo chuckles.

"You could say that again."

"We should cool off."

"How would we—" Mo replies.

"Well, there's the hose..."

"Yeah, for the dogs." Mo scoffs. You smirk and bite your lip.

"But dogs aren't the only ones who overheat..." Mo can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Linda would probably kill him if she found out. Or would she? She knows he's thought about asking you out and, judging from the way you're looking at him, full of wanton longing, this might be his best shot. "Guess it couldn't hurt."

Mo gets up and grabs the hose, testing the water before turning it on you. The water is cold and sends a shiver through you, making you yelp.

"Holy shit!" You gasp. Mo laughs heartily and you grin at him, warmth flaring in the pit of your stomach. You kick off your shoes and wring out your hair. The wet shirt clings to your skin and he can see everything; your nipples poking through the fabric, hard from the chill of the water, the curve of your waist, the hem riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin. Mo swallows thickly and aims the hose at himself, letting the refreshing water drench him. He sighs in relief and closes his eyes, tipping his head back. You watch the water drip down his neck, his chest and his stomach. The boiler suit is sticking to his skin and he's debating just taking it off. You reach for the hem of your shirt, lifting it to reveal your stomach, before remembering yourself. Sure, you're a guy but you still have a full chest and some might find that...problematic.

"Do you— Umm... Do you mind if I...?" You gesture to your shirt. Mo smiles softly and shakes his head.

"Sure." You pull your shirt off and wring it out. He tries not to stare but you're right there; the soft swell of your chest glistening, your nipples pert, goosebumps covering your arms. Mo can't help but wonder how you'd feel, how soft and warm and you'd be... There's a beat of silence between you and it feels like hours. Mo bites his lip and chews on the inside of his cheek before taking a breath and stepping closer. "Can I— Umm... Could I touch you?" You inhale sharply and nod, a little too quickly.

"Please."

Mo moves closer and puts a hand on your chest, cupping the soft flesh. His thumb brushes over your nipple and a soft moan escapes your lips. Mo takes another step forward, closing the gap between you. You reach up to grasp the zipper of his boiler suit, looking to him for permission. Mo nods and you slowly unzip it, pulling the sleeves down and pushing the sweat-dampened garment off his shoulders. You run your hands along his arms, his toned biceps, his strong forearms, the dusting of dark hair along the centre of his chest... Heat pools in the pit of your stomach, reigniting the warmth that spreads across your skin, sweat beading.

"Can— Can I kiss you?" You ask but he doesn't say a word. Instead, he leans in and presses his lips against yours. Your hands come up to cup his jaw, his beard tickling your palms, moustache brushing against your top lip. Mo wraps an arm around your waist, his hand resting against the small of your back. He steps forward, forcing you backwards, until you're pressed against the side of the shelter. His boiler suit falls to the ground and he kicks it aside. His other hand comes up to grip your hip. You press your tongue to the seam of his lips, practically begging for entry, and he grants it. Mo tastes so good, his tongue moving against yours, the slick muscle gliding, caressing. You wrap a hand around his wrist, pushing it around to the back of your pants, letting him grope you through your soaked shorts. He seems so nervous to touch you, wary of his strength. But you need him; his calloused hands, his rough skin, the firmness of his body, his muscles... Mo squeezes your ass gently and a moan rumbles in the back of your throat. His cock twitches at the sound and he finds himself pressing his hips against yours. You can feel the hard outline of his dick and gasp into his mouth. Mo swallows thickly and backs off slightly.

"We— We should stop." Mo says, breath coming in quick gasps. "We can't...do this here." He breathes and you grab his shoulders, turning the both of you is his back is pressed to the wall. You're surprised how easily he goes.

"Why not?" You pant, running a hand along Mo's toned chest, down his stomach. You press the heel of your palm against the bulge in his boxers and he can't help but groan.

"Fuck..." Mo whispers, tipping his head back, hitting the side of the shelter. His cock throbs and heat floods his cheeks.

"We're just cooling off, aren't we?" You breathe, leaning in to pepper kisses along his neck.

You slip your fingers under his sweat-soaked vest, feeling the stickiness of the skin there. You inch your fingers a little higher, dragging your nails along the thick hair that trails along his navel. Gently, you push his vest up to his chest and he helps get it off the rest of the way, letting you take in the gorgeous sight of his skin, glistening and flushed. You push yourself against him, your tongue dragging along his sternum to taste the salt there. Mo groans, deep and guttural, as you lap at his nipple. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud, your teeth grazing the pebbled flesh. Mo threads his fingers into your hair and bucks his hips. God, he needs more. He reaches down to hook his thumbs into the hem of his sweatpants but you stop him.

"Let me..." You purr, hooking your finger into the elastic of his waistband. You sink to your knees, laying kisses along his chest and down the paler skin of his belly. Oh, he's so soft here, the flesh pliant and yielding under your lips. Mo watches you with baited breath, his heart pounding. The way you've dreamed about this is unreal. You gently suckle at the skin, sinking further and further toward his waistband as you savour every press of your mouth against his body. Mo runs his fingers through your hair, the locks damp and curled from the humidity.

You pull his sweatpants down just enough to expose his boxers, his dick straining against the damp, warm fabric. Slowly, you lean in and drag your tongue along the outline of his huge shaft, from base to tip, tasting the musk of his arousal. Mo bites his lip to keep from crying out. You lave your tongue over his clothed length, swirling the tip around the crown. He braces himself against the wall, pressing his head back, eyes drifting shut. You lick a stripe along his clothed erection, his cock twitching as pre-cum oozes from the slit, seeping into the already-damp fabric. Mo groans and you can't take it anymore; you need him.

Hooking your fingers under the elastic, you gently tug his sweatpants and boxers down, his thick, hard cock springing free. Your breath catches in your throat. God, he's huge; thick, veiny and the crown is flushed and slick with pre. You glance up at him before taking the head into your mouth, rolling the tip of your tongue along the weeping slit, lapping up the salty-sweet fluid. You take his full, heavy balls in your palm, squeezing them, rolling them gently. Mo gasps and threads his fingers into your hair again, bucking his hips slightly. You take him deeper into your mouth, his huge girth prying open your jaw. The weight of his dick is divine; heavy on your tongue, your cheeks hollow. Mo tips his head back, his heart racing.

"Fuck, that's— You're so— H-Hahh... Your mouth, it's— Ohhh..." He moans desperately, his voice low and husky. You take him down, inch by inch, and he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, one large, strong hand resting on the back of your head. There's so much of him and he easily hits the back of your throat and you still have two thirds of his cock left to take. You try your best to relax your throat, your gag reflex fluttering as you work your way down, deeper, deeper... Mo gasps and moans and his legs barely support him. You swallow around his thick shaft, tears welling in your eyes, your throat tightening. Mo grits his teeth and forces himself to stay quiet. Linda could walk out any moment and he really doesn't want to get caught. But, fuck, your throat's so tight and hot and wet and— He chokes on a groan, biting his lip. You huff out a determined breath before trying to take him down again. You get close — so close — to taking him all the way in but choke when his crown hits the back of your throat again. Mo threads his fingers into your hair and gently coaxes you off his cock, strings of saliva hanging from your pink, swollen lips.

"Shit, y... You okay?" Mo pants. You nod and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"Fine... Just— Y'know, not used to such a big...y'know." You say sheepishly and his cheeks flush. "Might need your help." His brows quirk in confusion. You flush, realising you'll have to explain. "If you...grab my head, keep me still, you can just...fuck my throat." Mo inhales sharply and his cock throbs. Fuck, he wants that. He wants that so fucking bad.

"You sure?" He asks and you nod.

"Please."

You sit back on your toes and Mo gently takes your head in his hands, lining his cock up with your mouth. He presses the leaking, flushed crown to your lips and you part them, letting Mo ease into your mouth. The tip hits the back of your throat again and his breath catches. Gently, he rolls his hips, his cock sliding into your throat with a slight push. You moan and his hips stutter. God, your mouth is so hot and slick and your throat is so tight. Again, there's just so much of him... He slides in deeper and deeper and it just doesn't seem to stop. But you're determined. You gag and he goes to pull away but you grab onto his thighs, pulling him to you, a silent plea for him to keep going. Mo swallows thickly and rocks his hips slowly, your throat stretching, opening up to accommodate his huge girth.

Finally, you take him all the way, your nose pressed into the thick curls at the base. Mo's breath leaves him and he's struggling to stay standing. You swallow around him and he hears it. Mo groans and finally lets himself go; his inhibitions, his self-restraint... He grips your head a little tighter and pulls his hips back before thrusting forward, his cock sliding in easily from the slick of your spit. Mo starts a slow pace, the thick, veiny shaft gliding along your throat. Tears prick your eyes but you don't care. The way Mo loses himself, his lips parted, eyes drifting shut, brows knit, cheeks flushed; he's gorgeous and the sounds he makes are sinful.

You can feel yourself running low on oxygen, growing woozy from the lack of air and the heady, musky scent. Your vision's going dark but, fuck it, you couldn't care less. Mo picks up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, rougher, and you can hear him getting close; his breath coming quick, his moans rising in pitch, the grip on your head getting tighter. Your chest's starting to burn and it's only a matter of time before you pass out. God, he's so close... You can feel him twitching, hear him panting, taste the pre-cum oozing down your throat. Mo's thighs are trembling and you need him to cum. You swallow around his throbbing, thick shaft and that's it...

Suddenly, Mo slams his hips against your face and a choked cry falls from his lips. His cock throbs and he spills straight into your stomach, thick ropes painting your throat. Mo holds you perfectly still, the head buried so deep. Your chest's on fire now and your body starts to go slack. Mo rides out his high, his cock pulsing, twitching, filling your belly. He doesn't stop, pumping more and more into, emptying his balls down your throat. Fuck, there's just so much... Finally, he eases you off his softening shaft, strings of saliva hanging from the flushed, slick crown. Mo sinks to his knees and cups your face. Your head's spinning and you're gasping for air.

"Hey— Hey, you okay?" Mo asks softly. It takes a few moments but you nod.  Your eyes are unfocused, glazed over, and you're wheezing, desperate for air. "Hey. Hey, hey, c'mon, look at me." Mo says, his voice shaky. You take a few deep breaths and blink a few times, getting your bearings.

"Y-Yeah..." You rasp, wiping the tears and drool from your face. "That was... That was perfect..." Mo chuckles softly and sighs, relief washing over him. When you glance down, he's still hard, a mix of drool and cum dripping in viscous globs from his dick. You lick your lips and Mo notices, heat flooding his cheeks.

"Sorry, I— Umm... Sorry." Mo says sheepishly.

"Don't apologise." You reply. "You're still—"

"It'll go away."

"Or..." You purr, pulling one of his large, warm hands to the crotch of your soaked shorts, feeling the warmth of the flesh there. "... We could take care of it." Mo's eyes widen slightly. He really shouldn't...but he caves easily, especially when you rock your hips against his palm and whine. Mo swallows thickly and cups you properly, his fingers curling between your thighs. God, you're so warm and he can feel everything; the soft mound, the dampness of the fabric, the throbbing of your flesh. He needs you. And he needs you now.

Mo hooks his fingers into your waistband and rips your shorts and boxers in one swift motion. You gasp, watching the fabric fall away, revealing the soft swell of your mound, your thick, glistening cunt. Heat floods Mo's cheeks and his dick throbs, ready to go again. Fuck, you're gorgeous; the thick hair, the slippery sheen of slick, the way your hole gapes. Mo spreads your lips slowly, the thick digits gently rubbing along the flesh. He nearly cums on the spot...

Mo pushes you back on the grass, watching your body splay out, your skin gleaming with sweat and tears and cum. Softly, he parts your thighs, pinning them to the grass, as he reaches for his cock. There's a beat of silence, where he drinks in the sight of you and vice versa. You lay on the lawn beside the shelter; sweaty, spread out, ready to be fucked. Anyone could pull up to the gate or Linda could walk out but you couldn't care less. Mo is kneeling over you — eyes wide, lips parted — looking like, if he doesn't fuck you now, he's going to lose it. And who are you to stop him?

He slides the swollen head of his cock along the folds of your cunt, coating himself in your slick. Mo lines up his crown with your hole and ever so gently starts pushing in. There's resistance; you're not used to something so big, after all. God, you're so warm and slick and tight and— His thighs are already shaking and, God, is it a struggle just to keep himself together. Mo glances up at you for reassurance. You're breathless and your brows are knit, sweat trickling along the curve of your forehead. The stretch is heavenly and you get lost in the pleasure of it all until, suddenly, he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, hot breath fanning across your face.

"Please..." Mo breathes and, fuck, you've never heard anything so gorgeous.

"Fuck me, Mo... I...I want you..." You pant and he doesn't hold back. Slowly, he bottoms out, his crown brushing against your cervix, the thick shaft stretching you open. You gasp and your breath catches. Mo can't help but groan; your cunt's so wet and hot and tight and he can't stop himself. Your body is so wet and soft and warm and— Mo presses his lips to yours, muffling his moans, his thick facial hair brushing against your skin. You throw your arms around his broad shoulders, raking your fingers down the back of his neck. Mo starts a slow pace, his huge, thick girth dragging along your walls, his crown kissing your cervix perfectly.

He's perfect; stretching you open, making you his, and you love it. You buck your hips and, God, does that drive him crazy. Mo snaps his hips, burying himself in quick, rough thrusts. You tip your head back, breaking the kiss and a choked cry falls from your lips. Mo ducks his head to pepper worshipping, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, the thick curls of his moustache brushing against the sensitive skin there. "Fuck, Mo— Hahh... Oh, God— You're— F-Fuck... So good..." You moan, threading your fingers into his hair. Mo speeds up, his thrusts rough and hard and his crown keeps hitting the entrance to your womb. The sound of skin on skin fills the yard, the heat stifling, the both of you soaked in sweat, rutting and fucking like animals under the hot sun.

Mo can feel the heat building in the pit of his stomach again, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You feel so good wrapped around him, moaning in his ear, pulling his hair... Mo groans and nips your shoulder, laving his tongue over the bite. God, he needs more; more of you, your taste, your smell, the softness of your body, the warmth of your cunt... You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and his hips stutter as he chokes back a low groan.

Suddenly, his huge girth throbs and he spills straight into you, thick shots of cum painting your insides. Mo gasps and grits his teeth, burying himself deep as he cums. Your muscles flutter around him and, fuck, it's so hot and slick and— You whine, heat flooding your skin and the pit of your stomach as you cum. God, his spend is so thick and hot and there's just so much of it. Mo pumps shot after shot into you, filling you up, breeding you, marking you as his... You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him deep, as cum oozes from your overstuffed hole. He's panting in your ear, nuzzling against your neck softly, as his thrusts slow. Mo presses lazy kisses along your skin, lapping at the sweat pooling in the hollow of your throat.

"Fuck..." You whisper and Mo lets out a heavy sigh, humming in approval. Slowly, he rolls his hips, milking his spent cock as your body aches around him...

As you start to come down from the high, Mo sits up, kneeling between your outstretched thighs as cum oozes and bubbles from your hole, leaking out onto the lawn. Mo watches you laying sprawled out, hair sticking to your forehead, eyes drifting shut, your chest heaving. God, he did that... A wave of pride washes over him.

"You okay...?" He asks softly, brushing his knuckles along your inner thigh, watching you twitch.

"Better than okay..." You breathe and Mo chuckles softly.

Suddenly, Linda steps out from the shelter, throwing a towel to cover you up. Mo scrambles to get back into his clothes but you're just too blissed out to move.

"You two's done out here?" Linda asks and Mo flushes, his cheeks burning.

"Umm... Yeah." You reply lazily and Linda scoffs.

"Next time, at least try to keep it inside."

"S-Sorry." Mo breathes. Linda sighs and shakes her head.

"C'mon, help him clean up." She gestures to you and Mo quickly gets dressed before picking you up to take you inside. "There's some spare clothes in my locker." She sounds angry but there's a fondness in her gaze that she fails to hide. Maybe the two of you can finally get some more work done, now you're not pining over each other. Mo carries you inside and Linda smiles to herself. Guess it was about time you got together.

#character: mo lundy #source: the free world #misc: chariot writes #type: reader #misc: boydtober 2023