Frogsprism - I'm Just A Frog That Like Space - Tumblr Blog
You're walking alone at night, the streets are well lit and the air cool enough to make you go at a brisk pace. Nobody is out this time of night, not even a lone taxi to break up the quiet.
You're looking at your phone so you don't look where you're going, and bump into somebody. It feels like walking into a tank, the man doesn't even flinch while you almost fall on your ass. His hand grabs you before he can and your eyes naturally follow the firm muscles of his arm before looking at his handsome face.
He's apologetic about being in your way - "that's alright lovie, wasn't looking where I was going." - he says despite you having walked into him. Turns out he's walking in the same direction as you, and he doesn't look like some mugger, so you chat while you walk. He's a charming devil, dark skin looking ombre under the streetlights that turn his brown eyes a polished amber.
You learn a lot about him; his name is Kyle, he's in the military and coming back to the base from a bar, he used to be a gymnast. He even tells you of how he fell out of a helicopter, soft voice turning into a rumbling little laugh to make it lighthearted and you don't notice when you start laughing along. He's just so easy to talk to.
You don't even notice him leading you off the beaten path; some shortcut he knows. Some part of your mind, that dumb dumb animal, bleats deafly in your ear, but it's his smooth voice that bounces around your skull and pulls on your strings to keep you putting one foot in front of the other.
Next morning you wake up back in your bed (how did you even get back home?) and it's not until you go shower that you notice two puncture marks on your neck.
kinktober - day 03 - public sex
ghost x f!reader | 2.4k words cw: noncon/rape, violent threats, spit, degradation, improvised gag, unnegotiated and vague allusion breeding kink, abduction a/n: if anyone is better acquainted with the vw camper vans, no you’re not (please don’t call me on details, ty) summary: two birds, one stone. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list
A knock at the door mid-saxophone solo wrenches you out of the 1980s.
It’s Lost Boys night at the drive-in, one of your favorite films at one of your favorite places. To be interrupted, your knee-jerk reaction is what does this asshole want—
Except, said asshole looms over your door, clearing your car by almost a foot, treating you to a view of a broad torso in a hi-vis vest. Ducking down, your frown gives way to confusion. It’s the security guy who waved you into this very ‘spot’ not ten minutes ago. You had to beg him to let you turn into the drive-in, frantically explaining that work kept you late, causing you to arrive just as the movie started.
“Lot’s full.”
“That can’t be right, I-I have a ticket! Please?”
(If you’d dipped a little low to give him a good view of your cleavage, that was neither here nor there.)
He’d given you a long look, sighed, and then guided your puttering van into a relatively flat space by the dumpsters beyond the final row of cars. When you stuck your head out to thank him, he muttered something about tardiness.
It appears he still has a bone to pick with you.
You crank the window down, one eye still on the screen.
“Yeah?”
“Just wonderin’, that a ‘75 Volkswagen camper?”
“It’s an ‘82 T3 Westfalia,” You rattle off. “You a collector? ‘Cause The Bluebird’s not for sale. She was my dad’s, so...”
“I’m not. Is it the model with the foldin' table?”
Oh, so he’s just another nosy enthusiast. Good thing you have the rundown memorized from years of strangers walking up to play twenty questions.
“Yeah,” you say with a little sigh, eyes still on the movie. “Everything’s original except for the seat fabric.”
“Mind if I pop in for a look? My dad 'ad one too, before 'e passed.”
Great. Now you have something in common. You unlock the doors and furiously gesture for him to take a peek.
“Yeah, yeah, climb in. Just keep it quiet, I love this movie.”
“Quiet’s the goal, sweet'eart.”
Cripes.
You listen to him inspect the cupboards and examine the curtains your dad installed years ago. True to his word, the security guard’s silent. When the door shuts, you automatically turn to ask if it is anything like his dad’s model, but nobody’s outside the van. It’s like he vanished into—
Something cold touches your cheek.
“You scream, and I’ll ruin daddy’s ’ard work.”
Your eyes strain in their sockets to glimpse the tip of something black poking into your flesh, and your imagination fills in the rest. Your mouth dries, killing the screaming trapped at the base of your throat. You nod mechanically.
“Good girl. Now, give me the keys then keep your ‘ands where I can see ‘em.”
Sucking in a panicked breath, you slowly reach for the keys and blindly hand them over your shoulder. They disappear with a faint jingle.
“P-Please. You can have her. I’ll–I’ll get out, sit on the ground quietly, and you can drive off. I won’t fight o-or make a scene–“
“You won’t do either of those things, Blue,” he chuckles before stroking your temple with the tip of his gun. “Now. Turn the radio up so you can listen to your movie, then climb back here, carefully.”
You hesitate. Does he mean…?
“Between the seats. C’mon.”
Oh god.
“I’m not a patient man.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wheeze. You turn up the radio until it drowns out your thundering heartbeat and clumsily scramble into the back. You nearly trip, eyes widening to see that in his explorations, he’s converted the back seat into the sleeping configuration. He’s made the bed.
He stands hunched in the narrow gap between the bed and the driver’s seat. Crammed into a space meant for a man seemingly half his size. The bed isn’t the only thing he’s changed, you notice. Gone is the medical mask. In its place is a crude, painted balaclava. It makes him look all the more terrifying as if he needs the boost to his image.
He gestures at your chest as you hover awkwardly behind the passenger seat, hands raised, trying not to fall onto the bed in the cramped space.
“Clothes off. Won’t say it twice this time, so get a move on. Sit if ya need to, but not a fuckin’ word.”
Tears spring to your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you comply, a sob catching in your throat when you glimpse him unbuckling his belt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. The fact it is happening at the drive-in, in the van, is a double whammy. The stranger’s going to obliterate two of your safe spots in one go.
He growls when you stand there in your bra and panties, hands clasping awkwardly at your front.
“You stupid? Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Your bra tumbles down your shaking arms, and you kick it next to your clothes. As for your panties—he snatches them out of your hands before you can toss them. He brings them to his face, mashing them into the fabric covering his nose, and jerks his head in a silent but clear order.
He practically purrs when you climb onto the cheap, lumpy makeshift mattress. The upholstery is clean, you see to its maintenance, but it scratches at your palms and knees as you crawl.
“Look at that arse. Give it a wiggle, Blue.”
With the gun and his casual threat of ruining the interior with your interior, you pathetically comply. He belly laughs, louder than the revving of the motorcycles on screen. You try to ignore it, focusing on the interior handle of the van’s rear latch that’s a shuffle away. But as soon as you reach for it, a hand the width of a shovel wraps around your ankle and yanks.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He growls, easily overpowering your squirming, sobbing self.
The fight you put up, if you could call it that, feeds the growing shame in your gut. It ends as quick as it began, with your panties jammed behind your teeth and wrists pinned. He hovers, breathing rough through his mask. He releases your hands with a cautionary squeeze.
“Try that again, and you’ll be joinin' your dad tonight. Simple enough?”
You nod so fast you crick your neck, tonguing fabric.
With a patronizing pat to your cheek, he sits on his knees, head ducked and back curved, touching the roof. “That’s more like it.” His eyes linger on yours, assessing, then drop to your body, a soft, perverse laugh rattling out. Hedged with a smoker’s cough.
It’s as surreal as the movie. Like you’ve been sucked beyond the silver screen. One minute, simply watching, the next, part of the nightmare.
Ghost, he tells you between sharp nips and bites to your tits, is what you’ll call him when you plead, beg, and whine. And that’s what you do, trading breaths for muffled whimpers as he paws at your belly, hips—whatever he can reach, which is everything. He leaves indentations of his teeth all the way down your body, stinging and raw.
“Nice cunt you’ve got ‘ere,” Ghost grins as if complimenting the upholstery or fixtures. He rolls and tucks his mask, revealing a pale chin and thin lips. You catch a couple of old, gnarly scars in the light filtering through the windshield. A knitted cleft. Helpful detail to identify him later, your hysterical mind notes. His lips twitch as he pries your legs open. “She’s fuckin’ soaked. Playin’ rough do it for you?”
Blunt thumbs rub circles into the soft skin at the crux of your inner thighs, teasing and pulling you open. He spits a large glob directly onto your hole. Either you’re not as soaked as he said, or worse, you think, he’s planting yet another little flag on your body. He plays with you for a moment, unskillfully toying with your clit, and stroking himself, spreading the drool from his leaking cock. He slaps the heft of it once, twice—then without further preamble, begins to shove his way in.
You can’t stop your hands from flying up to claw at his arms, your mouth falling further open in a silent scream, cotton tickling the back of your throat. The stretch is immense, and you feel like a bug the way your legs instinctively try to close, bracketing his broad form and pressing into his sides, from how you feel squashed as he bottoms out with a throaty groan.
Ghost rocks his hips to take whatever room’s left and chuckles at your wide eyes, glassed over with unshed tears. You stare up at the dark pits above, glinting with satisfaction.
“Go ahead and cry. Been wonderin’ what you’d look like since you got all blubbery at the entry.” He picks up the pace and successfully knocks your tears loose as he fucks you hard into the mattress. The whole van must be rocking on its suspension, giving you a little hope a fellow movie-goer or an employee will investigate and scare him off. But there’s no way he doesn’t notice the sway of the van. He must not care.
“Please,” Ghost mocks. “Please, I ‘ave a ticket! It’s my stupid job and my stupid manager,” he laughs meanly, smacking into you to punctuate his speech. “These stupid ‘ours and stupid customers.” You wince at hearing your near-hysteric ranting and begging parroted back at you. “Ever think about what all those got in common? Ever think it’s you who might be stupid, Blue?”
He slips a hand back to your clit, thumbing it in tight circles broken by occasional flicks, coaxing a reluctant yet responsive heat like a skittish animal. His mask lifts more with a big smirk and a mean laugh as you choke around the gag, sobbing.
“After all, you did let a strange man into your car.”
Your fingers dig into his arms but do nothing. He drops his weight, snakes his arm under your head, and ruts. His rubbing hurts. He uses way too much pressure than you normally like and pinches, muttering filthy orders into your ear. He kisses your drooling mouth and licks your cheeks.
“C’mon, give me it, come on my cock. Want you nice and tight f’me, need you to keep it all inside.”
The inevitably of him finishing inside you chases another wail from your mouth. He finally slots his own over it, burrowing his tongue inside to dig around. You can barely breathe as he fucks you through whatever it is he’s doing. Your eyes spin and bounce off the fogged windows. Surely, any minute now, someone will interrupt, someone will save you. They’ll throw away their trash and hear your muted shrieking.
And, as if summoned by thought alone, the beam of a flashlight bounces off the rear windows. Ghost pauses his mouth before his hips, slowing to a leisurely roll. He lifts his upper half to stare out the window as the light passes over the glass again. You watch, heartbeat borderline painful, and squeak when he raises his hand. His face snaps to you.
“Not a word.” He warns.
Ghost wipes the mist from the glass and his lip curls.
“Just a kid.” A hand migrates over your mouth and presses, apparently not trusting you even with your underwear half-lodged behind your teeth. His other hand reaches and unlatches the window. You tense so hard in panic that he hisses and squeezes your cheeks with a second pointed look. He cranks the window open enough that surely his masked face is visible outside.
“Didn’t your mum teach you it’s not polite to stare?”
A pitchy, crackling voice of what sounds like a teenager responds. Fuck. You can hear him pretty clearly, even over the radio. He must be only a foot away.
“I-I-I….W-Whatever it is you’re doing, sir, you can’t–”
“I’m enjoyin’ the show. At least I’m tryin’, but ‘ere’s some whelp stickin’ his nose in my business.” His voice is cruel, mocking. “I suggest you go back to your booth and forget about me. I can leave an impression if you’d like, but you like solid foods, yeah?”
There’s a choked, scared sound that cuts through the film audio. It makes Ghost huff and drive deeper into your cunt, making you bite through cotton as his cockhead glances sharply into your cervix.
“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” By the sound of his retreating footsteps, the kid’s power-walking away.
Ghost shuts and locks the window, muttering, and returns his attention to you. He gives you a toothy grin, flashing a silver cap on a rear molar.
“Now, where was I?”
A heartbeat passes before he’s back to fucking you mercilessly, tongue jamming into your mouth yet again.
He ignores the rake of your nails when you shove your hands up his shirt to find skin to ruin, and merely grunts as he lifts his head. Your underwear slides out of your mouth in his teeth, damp and wrinkled. He spits them out beside your head, then returns, wetting your dry tongue with his own.
Ghost swallows your shrill cry as you come and endures your kicking legs while flames as hot as hellfire sear you to the bone beneath him. The train whistle and screams pumping through the van’s speakers smother the rest of your bawling. You dangle above the abyss, spent.
It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to follow. Panting into your mouth, blown pupils fixed to yours, mouth screwed up in a sneer. He barely makes a sound as he loses his rhythm and floods your cunt.
He withdraws after a brief eternity and kisses you. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and aching, you slip unconscious. Lost.
When you stir, you find yourself cuffed to the wall of the van, wearing only a hi-vis vest. It chafes your nipples as the van bounces along. Blinking, you groggily moan in pain and try to compute what it is you’re seeing through the lace curtains. Green. Patches of gray and white. Mountains. But the closest range is…
Your eyes whip up front, where Ghost fiddles with the dial. He pauses, registering your movement in the corner of his eye, and meets your gaze in the rearview.
“Made a collector out of me, Bluebird.”
Day two: Forced Oral Sex - Gaz x Reader
Tags - non-con, forced oral sex, restraining, gagged with panties, pussy talking.
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You sighed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around Kyle's neck as you walked backwards towards your room. You hadn't expected a trip to the bar for a few drinks would lead to you bringing frankly the prettiest man you've seen home but you weren't about to start complaining.
He gripped the back of your neck and broke the kiss before he placed a hand on your chest and lightly pushed you back onto your bed. You giggled and looked up at him and he smiled back down at you. Kyle removed your shoes first and pulled off the skirt you were wearing next. "God doll, you're so beautiful."
You giggled again, "Thank-"
"Not you," he snapped and you blinked at him. If not you then who was he talking to. The alcohol in your veins slowed your mind as he began to kiss up your bare thigh and closer to your pussy. Then your mind connected the dots.
Oh hell no.
You moved further up the bed, away from him before he reached the very place he was leading to. "Did you just talk to my pussy?" You asked incredulously.
Kyle scoffed, "Of course I did," he grabbed your ankle and pulled you back down, "who else would I be talking to? You?"
You opened your mouth to tell him to get out of your place but he shoved two fingers into your mouth. You gagged on them and your teeth scrapped along them. "Don't bite or I'll gag you," he warned.
You watched with wide eyes as he peeled your panties off and placed them onto the bed but not without sniffing them first. What kind of guy did you bring home?
There was there no build up as he buried his face between your thighs. It was sloppy, he licked and sucked at your lower lips, wetting your course curls there. You tried to jerk your hips away but he used his other hand to pin your hips down with a snarl.
He sucked harshly on your clit and you let out a half yelp half moan from between his fingers in your mouth. His tongue was obviously skilled as he lapped at your slit and drank straight from where your pussy traitorously drooled from the attention. His teeth scraped your sensitive bundle of nerves and your legs kicked out.
Finally your brain caught up to you as you grabbed his head by his hair to force him out from between your thighs. "Stop it! I don't want this anymore."
"Yeah but she does," he replied as he grabbed your wrist so hard it hurt. He twisted your arm and forced you onto your stomach. The clinking of a belt filled the room and you tried to squirm away, to fight your way out of his grip but it was iron strong.
He wrapped his belt around your wrists, tying them together and tightening it past the point of hurt. He smacked the fat of your ass and when you cried out from it he shoved your own panties in your mouth. "There," he breathed and his thumb brushed against your lower lips wet and sticky with your own juices and his spit, "that's better."
Kyle forced your legs apart and dove right back in. His tongue invaded your hole, moving around and pressing up against the walls of your cunt while it filled his mouth. He slurped and drank from it while he used a thumb to rub circles on your clit.
Tears began to roll down your cheeks as your skin got warmer and you felt your stomach clenching. Your own body betraying you in favor of primal pleasure all while Kyle kept talking to your pussy as if it was a person.
"Such a good girl," he purred when he pulled back to watch your cunt pulse and pushed more slick out, "so pretty."
You sobbed into your mattress when he kept thumbing your clit and tonguing your hole. You just wish this would be over and you couldn't even voice that opinion with your own panties stuffed into your mouth.
Finally your pussy clamped down tight on his wet muscle as the tightness with your stomach finally snapped. You buried your face into your sheets as he groaned and lapped at your hole like a dog. He pulled away after your cunt had finished pulsing around nothing and the aftershocks of the orgasm shook your legs.
For a moment you thought it was over before you felt his hot mouth right back on your clit.
something something you marry a rich idiot and things go south fast. the prenup is nonexistant, you'll get half of everything if you go, and the prospect of losing any amount of money to you, the woman he's treated like shit relentlessly since you both said 'i do', is unbearable to him.
before you finally throw in the towel and call a divorce lawyer, that bastard up and dies. the circumstances are mysterious enough that you're investigated for a while, but cctv footage and credit card receipts clearly place you at a restaurant with your bestie, tearfully dishing about how quickly your marriage has fallen apart while you drown your sorrows in a glass of horchata. it takes months until you're finally in the clear, but when you are your shitty husband's entire estate goes to you.
you're sleeping in the very middle of your giant alaskan king mattress when you're awoken by the largest man you've ever seen sitting on your hips. he's wearing all black and a skull mask, pressing a knife to your throat and holding a single gloved finger up against his face.
"no screamin', now. i'm 'ere for what i'm owed." the intruder tells you, voice low and rumbling like an oncoming storm. you can only blink up at him, eyes blurring with yet-unshed tears, terror coursing through your veins.
"your 'usband paid me a 'andsome fee to cut you up and gut you like a fish. did you know that?" he asks, and all you can do is shake your head as your thoughts race through your head too fast to even fully process. the skull mask cocks to the side, and through the dim moonlight streaming through the curtains, you can see dark eyes slide over your wide, soft body. "thought 'e was a right prick when i was talkin' with 'im. ended up changin' the game plan in the end, didn't i?"
the knife is pulled away from your throat and sheathed next to a gun holster, whose presence you hadn't noticed until just now and makes you feel more than a little breathless with fear. fuck, your husband tried to have you killed. fuck, your husband's killer has you pinned to the bed. fuck, he's armed to the teeth and all you've got is your fucking retainer to defend yourself with.
slowly, cautiously, like a big cat stalking it's prey, he leans down on his forearms, bracketing your head as he drops more of his solid bodyweight onto you. the teeth of the skull dig into your cheek a little as he leans in as close as possible to whisper into your ear.
"everythin' you 'ave is because of me. surely you're smarter than 'im, you'll give me what i'm owed, won't you?" he sneers from under the mask, and you nod your head frantically, which earns you a dark chuckle that makes your hair stand on end. "oh, good girl. knew 'e was stupid, tryin' t'get rid of you."
"what is it that you want?" you ask, secretly proud that your voice didn't shake. it wasn't a given.
"oll of it. i'm the master of this 'ouse now, got it? else i'm sendin' the detectives a neat little packet of faked emails and bank records that make it look like you 'ired a killer to take out your spouse." you can hear a horrible smile in his tone, and it makes you shudder. there's no reason to doubt he's got that shit ready to go, lord knows the cops and prosecutor didn't walk away thinking you were completely innocent, despite it definitely being the case. besides, he's already double-crossed your husband and brutally killed him, who knows what this monster is even capable of?
"ok, i'll just need a few days to pack-" you say, trying to figure out the logistics of what he'll allow you to move out with you. your mother's fine china set will probably have to stay, but surely he doesn't want your toothbrush and tampons, right?
"pack? what d'ya mean, 'pack'?" a large gloved hand slides over your throat, not pressing, just resting there. a warning. every body in your muscle tenses.
"i- uh, i mean- so you can move in? surely you don't want my clothes to fill your closet-"
his sudden laughter cuts you off, deep and mean sounding while he shakes his head, seemingly in amusement. the fingers on your throat slide up over your chin and intrude into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to silence you. suddenly you realize it's not the hard edges of his holstered weapons that are digging into the softness of your body, but rather something else. something rigid underneath the fly of his jeans. dots connect, and those welled up tears stream silently down the sides of your face and retreat into your hairline as your eyes get even wider. he runs his fingers over your teeth, humming in amusement when he presses his fingers further back into your throat, making you gag wetly, coughing and sputtering while he continues to laugh in your face.
"you're not goin' anywhere. i said i want oll of it, love. the money, the mansion, and everythin' in it. that's includin' you." he taunts, grinding his hard cock against your soft stomach. "now 'ow's about you spread your legs and show me proper 'omecomin'?"
idk who needs to hear this but kyle is not dark skinned. that man is light skinned. also find a better way to describe him since you described the other three by mohawk, mustache, and mask. we know he’s black!(the one with the scar on his cheek, curly hair, that damn blue hat, the one with the pearly whites and longer canines, the pretty one)
A vivid aurora streams over the Earth as the International Space Station orbited 273 miles above the southern Indian Ocean in between Australia and Antarctica.
fuck this *closes the lid of my coffin*
reblog if you see your kink:
♡hair pulling
♡having financial stability
♡choking
♡recycling
♡bondage
♡saving the bees
♡role playing
♡having a healthy sleep schedule
All the gays right now
Sh2-136, Ghost Nebula
head hurts owie owie but fixating rn n
thinking about hockey player simon sneaking you in the locker rooms pre-skate and just. fucking his nervousness out of his system—his words. he clamps his hand on your mouth when he hears someone fiddling with the door.
“what the fuck? why’s it locked?”
that was mactavish, you realize with sharp horror.
your eyes widen, anxiety building up in the base of your spine, and you stare up at simon because shit is it time for pregame skate already? but he just shrugs his shoulders like the bastard like he is, as if the team couldn’t just ask their captain—garrick—or their coach to open the doors for them.
“jesus, why,” that was price, your favourite player. “y’know where garrick went?”
the reply is too faint for you to hear and you pray, god you pray, that it’s because they’re moving away.
simon lets out a quiet laugh, apparently following your train of thought.
“don’t worry, sweets,” he murmurs, but with the sudden silence in the locker rooms, it could very well be reverberating from wall to wall. “they really won’t mind.”
you glare at him, still unable to speak—and unwilling too—with his hand clamped on your mouth. and simon just grins, one that is so utterly charming even with his missing tooth from eight games ago.
he ruts his cock into you again and you swat at him, willing him to stop, at least until the team leaves but the door is wiggled again, as though maybe this time around it’d be unlocked, and simon groans before blindly reaching towards his duffel and picking his phone out.
he taps on it, and shit you think you know what he might’ve sent and—
“ohhhhh!” the mob outside all collectively yelled before smacks resound on the door, this time mixed with wolf whistles.
“get it, riley!” someone you distinctly remember being sasha says and you feel your cheeks burn because what the fuck—
“yeah, now get!” simon replies like the bastard he really, truly is.
more laughter, more cheers, more banging noises, before it all peters into thundering footsteps leaving the locker rooms. that was—
“okay, now we can focus,” simon purrs, pulling his hand away. you just glare up at him again before reaching up and tuging him close for a kiss to finally shut him up.
which fella would be down to be pegged with a replica of his own dick? possibly insisting on replicating his own balls too? /a different pegging anon
Ok I know the usual answer is Soap(the dog) but I'm gonna go a different direction and say Price.
Price knows he has a thick cock and he's always told you he wouldn't do anything to you he couldn't take himself so... yeah he wants you to peg him with his own cock. He'll drool and claw at the sheets, moaning like a bitch for you. He begs and pushes his hips back into your thrusts, grab his hair and pull his head up so the neighbors can hear him singing for you. It's hard being captain, let him be a whore for a while. He's got needs too. The way his eyes roll back and his big useless dick twitches is so cute, maybe if he begs pretty enough you'll give his cock a few strokes before he comes all over the duvet.
You being drunk and perched on Simon’s lap all pretty while Price stares at you like he wants to eat you alive!!
And then somehow it ends up with Price’s cock in your mouth and Simon’s fingers inside you :(
POV: Security caught you and Simon "Ghost" Riley being inappropriate at work.
I made this for a mixtape I did but youtube borked it T_T
Alternate versions down the cut:
Gaz who's fuckin' nasty.
And it isn't the roguish nastiness or "I don't give a flying fuck" nastiness that Soap and Ghost embody, oh no, darling.
Kyle's nastiness is suave. It is smooth and hits softly but leaves you stunned nonetheless. And he gets you every. single. time.
He knows how to make you hot and bothered without even touching you. All it takes is a certain lilt to his voice, quietly teasing, enough to make you squirm and flustered. In public. In fucking public. Cheeky bastard.
Kyle is the one who croons, "Heya, gorgeous," before you feel his lips against your temple. Before you know it, his hands are up your shirt, toying with your nipples, making you squirm and push back and grind against his hard cock. "There we go, darling..."
Kyle doesn't call you so you can hear him touch himself and he doesn't send you pictures. He sends your voice messages, wishing you a wonderful day telling you he loves you... and then proceeds to mention how beautiful you looked when he fucked you silly.
Gaz can't keep his hands to himself when he's around you. You're irresistible, beautiful. His fingers are everywhere. On your hips, on your shoulders, brushing against your ass, up your shirt, in your mouth, down your pants, in your underwear, inside you... did we cover everything?
Sometimes he wonders if he has an oral fixation. Luckily for him, you're there to help him figure it out. And so you do, wherever he can get you. You're naked from the waist down and Kyle's buried between your thighs, holding them so you don't get away from him. "Look at me, gorgeous... there we go," Kyle's soft and reassuring while dark eyes pierce you with their stare. "Cum in my mouth..." is what follows next and fuck yes, he absolutely has an oral fixation. Gaz cleans you up, kisses you so can taste yourself and him, and it's only later that you realize you're missing your underwear.
Kyle lets you have time to yourself in the shower but once you're out, you're his. He's the one who takes the towel and dries you off. So he says. Because even with the towel Gaz is massaging and thumbing the most sensitive parts of you, enough to leave goosebumps and have you panting in front of him, ready to jump his bones but you just got clean. Kyle, you just showered—"C'mere, baby..."
Can we also talk about how Gaz can never stop kissing you? If he can't do anything else, he'll make sure his tongue is in your mouth for sure. And when you're left dazed and breathless and just crazy as fuck for him, the insistence of his tongue is replaced by gentle pecks against your swollen lips and he's grinning like the victorious and lucky bloke that he is.
And last but not least, let's talk about how much Kyle enjoys it when you cockwarm him. He likes to kiss, nip, touch, and suck you into a frenzy, begging for his cock, clenching around him to motivate and milk him. "You ready, darling?" Kyle asks after he's teased you for god knows how fucking long. You've BEEN ready, Garrick. All it takes is a look and, "Here we go," before he's fucking into you and you're clinging to him like your life depended on it.
imagine travelling for your job and coming home to simon (big and beautiful and mia-for-two-months simon) holding your cat up like one would carry a baby. they’re standing by the balcony door in your living room, watching the people who are walking by.
“uhm,” you begin, shocked and exhausted. “what…”
simon turns just enough to meet your eyes. “m’teaching sasha how to be observant. little girl didn’t even blink when i walked in.”
“you don’t have keys to my place.” you lick at your chapped lips. “you shouldn’t have keys to my place.”
“i know,” he grunts, adjusting his hold on her. sasha just plops her head on his chest again, her tail slowly swaying behind her and her big eyes slow blinking at you.
you give her your own slow blink and you wish you could pick her up from simon’s arms but—and here’s the issue—you still don’t understand why he is here. why is he back?
“did you break into my home?” you finally ask, quiet and anxious.
simon just sniffs, patting sasha’s rear, and looks away. sasha lets out a purr.
“simon—!?”
i just that know ghost has the lowest balls, but price has the heaviest. having those meaty things banging against your clit must be heaven <3
ps - your cod shining au’s are exquisite!!! your brain is so unique and innovative, coming up with all these fantastic ideas..!
Sure I can talk about balls
Ghost's got that bfd(big fucking dick) that's just begging for attention. Heavy motherfucker that doesn't even spring up against his stomach, it hangs between his legs and when you wrap your hand around it to hold it up so you can suck it properly, oh he's got big balls too. Of course they're stretching the sack, look how big his dick is, his balls are heavy. Don't let that stop you from laving your tongue over them. Let him rest his cock against your face as you suck his balls into your mouth. Hold your tongue out and let him rest 'em there, see if you're brave enough to lap at his asshole too. He likes when you love on his balls more than having you suck hiwarmed.
Seeing you dwarfed by his dick really does it for him, and it feels degrading, makes him huff and groan like he's enjoying something he's not supposed to, grunting about what a whore you are, if you're getting a good whiff of him down there. If you smile while your dragging your tongue over his balls he'll come in your hair, be warned.
Price isn't as big as Ghost but that doesn't mean you can count him out. That man has what we in the business call breeder balls. Fat and heavy and just asking to be drained in a pretty thing. Just barely trimmed so you can feel the coarse hair tickling your nose when you suck at them. Riding him reverse cowgirl means feeling his balls kissing your clit, watching the way they pull up when he's about to come. But it doesn't matter how he's fucking you, you'll feel them bumping against you.
Doggy style they're hitting your clit, giving you that nice soft, wet, slap with each thrust of his hips. And if he's got you in a mating press you can feel them against your ass, reminding you exactly how much come he's got stored up for you.
Honestly though just laying on the bed and giving them some love will make you appreciate them all the more. Especially if you're cleaning them up after he's filled you full. Licking the slick and come that dripped out of you off of his sack, carding your tongue through the dark curls. Price loves jerking himself off while your thank his balls for breeding you, loves getting that last bit of come dribbling over his fingers so you can suck them clean once his balls have a good spit shine on them. You're such a good little slut for him, aren't you?
This is me. Kinda jealous of all the writers who can write quickly because I can't.
My friends who have never experienced flooding, and who are about to deal with it from this storm, please remember:
1. NO. YOU CANNOT MAKE IT THROUGH THAT WATER ON THE ROAD. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE DRIVING. TURN. AROUND.
2. DO NOT GO WADING THROUGH THE WATER. EVEN IF YOU JUST WANT TO SEE HOW DEEP IT IS. THAT. WATER. IS. CONTAMINATED.
3. IT IS CALLED FLASH FLOODING FOR A REASON. THE WATER RISES AND SURGES IN A FLASH. STAY. HOME.
4. If you're at risk of flooding, raise up any of your belongings now. Put the legs of tall things in buckets. Know where your important documents are.
5. Stay safe.