May I please ask for a little something. Lemme just spit vibes and let you do what you do.
-marriage proposal with an antique ring that I’ve had my eye on since fucking 2017. That fucker hacked into my Pinterest somehow
-soft daddy ripping my panties
-breeding. so much cum, such a little hole
-Sackler or Clyde preferred
thank you for your service ilysm
Homie tbh I sat on this for a second because I was freaking out. IT'S TOO MUCH. IT'S JUST TOO MUCH. SLAP ME SILLY AND MAKE ME A PRETTY LITTLE WIFE I AM SO READY TO BEAR CLYDE LOGAN'S CHILDREN. ANYWAY YEAH PLEASE ACCEPT THESE THOTS:
(cw: breeding breeding omg breeding
The ring glimmers on your finger, vintage sapphire and diamond accented by well-worn gold. It matches the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes, boring down at you with unfettered need. You're pinned by it, immobilized by his gaze, so full of promise it makes your tender heart flutter.
"I'll give ya everything, darlin'" he breathes, lips grazing against your jawline. "Everything you ever wanted."
"Everything?" you ask, your fingertips trailing down his angular cheekbones. You arch your back off the bed in search of more contact, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "What about a little Logan?"
And it's like there's no more air in the room.
He stills above you, his arms caging your body in, his lips parted softly. After a long moment, you see his nostrils flare as he drags in a deep inhale.
"I wanna hear you say it."
You press your hands against his broad chest to steady yourself before you speak. "I want to have your baby, Clyde."
Something rumbles deep and low in his chest as his mouth crashes into yours, hungry, searching, claiming. His eyes are wild when he pulls himself away, bracing himself on one forearm as his hand comes to tear at the lace of your panties. You hear the thin fabric tear and gasp the moment you feel cool air against your wet cunt. Clyde pushes the ruined scraps to the side, still clinging to your waist, and lines his thick cock up against your entrance.
"I'm gonna make you a mama, little darlin'," he rasps, pushing his swollen head just inside your tight channel. "Gonna fuck a baby right into ya." He sinks in deeper, inch after delicious inch, watching your eyelids flutter and your mouth drop open.
He doesn't hesitate, doesn't hold back when he finally bottoms out; he pulls out to the tip and slams back into you, setting a ruthless pace. There will be other nights to luxuriate in the velvety slide of your pussy, but tonight, he just needs to fill you up.
And he nearly growls at the way you respond to him, your fingernails digging into the skin of his back and your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper with every stroke.
You can feel the liquid heat pooling in your core, licking up your spine like wildfire. His hand slips between your bodies to work at your swollen clit and you're gone for him, tumbling over the edge of your release with a cry.
He can't hold off with the way you clamp down on his cock, he doesn't want to—he empties himself inside you with a shout, painting your walls white.
He looks down at where you're joined as he slowly pulls out, drinking in your little whimpers while he watches his cum dribble out of your spent cunt, and that's when he knows—having you once tonight won't be nearly enough.
Tags/CW: sex club, anonymous sex, alcohol mention, blindfolded reader, oral sex (f-receiving), PIV sex, creampies
Summary: It’s all anonymous, and you’re so hungry for a lover’s touch. You’ll never see him; he’ll never know you. After an hour together, you’ll part ways and never cross paths again. You couldn’t find each other if you tried. As luck would have it, you might not need to.
A/N: This fic was inspired by the ‘Anonymous Sex’ prompt during Kinktober 2021!
It’s cool against your skin, cool and smooth.
The satin fabric of the blindfold presses against your eyelids, plunging your world into silky darkness. Your senses feel heightened: the sounds around you clearer, the soft air washing around you raising swaths of goosebumps on your skin.
You’ve never been to a place like this before, never thought you’d go to a place like this… but it’s been so long since you’ve been touched, so long since you’ve been fucked and filled the way your body so desperately craves.
Everyone who enters the club is screened and approved. Everything is confidential. You know it’s safe. Your heart flutters as you recline on the bed, waiting for the partner you’ll never see.
_____
He’s never been to a place like this before, never thought he’d go to a place like this… but as a faithful best man, he’d agreed to follow Jimmy anywhere for his bachelor party—even to Charleston’s more salacious locations. While Jimmy was content to watch the dancers upstairs, he’d insisted his little brother explore the space a little more… and it’s been so long since Clyde has been touched, so long since he’s let go and given all of himself to someone.
It’s all anonymous. His hands tremble as he signs the waiver. He lingers with his hand on the door, drawing a deep breath in through his nose and blowing it out through his mouth, preparing himself for the partner who’ll never know him.
Tell me about being the Supreme Leader's favorite member of the Harem. Why is it that he calls on us so much more frequently than any of the others? Especially when they're all so doe eyed and devoted to the cause of securing his line of succession. They would do anything to give him his heir, but we hate him. Full of venom and spite at our shitty lot, having been all but handed to the man on a silver platter by our powerful family. (Who we now hate even more than him.)
SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP
GOING ABSOLUTELY FERAL
I HAVE NO COHERENT THOUGHTS AROUND THIS ONLY BABBLING
He could have his pick of the simpering acolytes, but all he wants is you, his little spitfire. Nothing makes him harder than the contempt on your face when he calls you to his chambers, nothing compares to the simmering hatred in your eyes when he pushes his cock into your tight little cunt. He makes you look at him while he fucks you and he preens at the way you cum for him even when you so desperately try to resist it. Your sharp tongue always keeps him coming back for more, and he can't help but indulge in the idea of fucking your mouth just to keep you quiet. He imagines you on the throne next to him, your belly swollen with his heir...
Z! I’ve been thinking about Sackler a lot lately. Like domestic and comfort things. I just want to smother him with the love he deserves
There is something that makes my heart SQUEEZE about starting with a sorta feral Sackler and through love and patience turning him into a sweet domestic (but still weird) creature. HE DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE AND TENDERNESS! Please accept these snaccs:
He never lets you shower alone. As soon as he hears the faucet turn on he's barging into the bathroom, throwing his clothes on the floor, and stepping into the stream of hot water behind you. He loves when you shampoo his hair, giving him gentle scalp scritches that make him hum deep and low.
Sometimes he'll get lost in a good book or a woodworking project and forget to eat, but you keep an eye on him. Still, it always surprises him when you set a bowl of soup or half a sandwich down beside him and press a quick kiss to his temple.
He's your personal space heater at night. He wraps himself around you, his long limbs tangling with yours and pinning you to the bed. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feel of his slow, deep breaths on your shoulders.
He'll play with your hair when you've had a long, hard day. He lets you lie with your head in his lap as he smooths his hand over your strands. He listens if you need to talk, but he's content to rest in comfortable silence while you relax.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so glad to see you back here!! I’ve been reading and rereading all of your works (especially for Charlie lol)
Dude. DUDE. We were just in the discord setver talking about how this pic is SO Charlie, like “Honey, I’m home” all tired from work and looking handsome and shit 👀
@strangunddurm @eagerforhoney @holacherrycola90 POUR THIS MAN A GLASS OF RED WINE AND BRAINSTORM WAYS TO ~RELAX~ HIM
Tags/CW: BABY DADDY SACKLER AU!, pregnancy fic, enemies to friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, she/her pronouns, pregnancy/impregnation kink, breeding kink, PIV sex, creampies, failed pregnancy attempt, reader has a regular menstruation cycle which is a unicorn thing imho lolz, cockwarming, spanking, dirty talk, hair-pulling, hurt/comfort, gendered pet names, angst with a happy ending I promise, PREGNANT SEX OMG, childbirth, lactation kink, mention of birth control
Notes: You’ve been wanting to have a baby and finally decide you’re ready–you make an appointment with a fertility doctor to choose a donor. To your great surprise, your friend from across the hall offers to help you out the ~old-fashioned way~.
I know pregnancy fic isn’t everyone’s jam, so feel free to block the #what to expect fic tag to pass on this one! xo
Your hair damp with sweat, your eyes bright and focused—Adam thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful as you do now with Sage bundled into your chest. Something inside him aches at the thought of how brave you were, how brave you had to be to carry this child and bring her into the world. How proud he is to call you his partner. The nurses and OB bustle about the room but his entire universe has narrowed down to you and the little human now resting just above your heart. He places one palm on your cheek and reverently spreads the other over Sage’s back. His lips part with awe as he feels the rise and fall of her breaths—so tiny, but so strong.
He’s always known what love feels like, what it means to truly connect with another person, to see them in all their complexity and not look away. He knows how it feels to love you, to see you in your joy and grief and hope and longing, to know you in both your strength and vulnerability. But when he looks at Sage, it’s different. It’s as if a very piece of his soul is living outside of his body. His entire being thrums with the need to keep her safe, to nurture and protect her. And nothing, nothing, has ever felt so right to him.
You lean into his touch, smiling at his pensive expression.
“You okay?” you ask softly, covering his hand with your own.
“Yeah,” he swallows thickly, blinking as if to clear the intensity of his thoughts. “Never better.”
“I was thinking,” you say, eyes searching his, “for the birth certificate… that she’d have both our last names.”
“I’d…” He lets out a shaky breath, eyes shining with wetness once again. “I’d be honored.” His eyes flit between you and the baby and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Sage [Y/L/N] Sackler,” he says, voice filled with pride. He can’t help but think how much he’d like to give you his last name, too.
“Hey,” you ask, voice low and conspiratorial. “You wanna get out of here?” You wink, and his smile turns into a full-blown grin.
_____
The early days pass like a dream, Sage’s presence filling every nook and cranny of the space you share together. He worried before this, worried about whether he’d be a good dad, but those thoughts faded into the reverence and repetition of his new routine: watching her suckle at your breast, changing diapers, rocking her to sleep in the cradle of his arms. Sometimes when she nods off he traces the contours of her face with a calloused fingertip as if to memorize the shape of her.
He tends to you as you regain your strength, too, cooking you meals and ensuring you stay hydrated. He knows you want to spend every waking moment with Sage, but that you need time to take care of yourself, so he tends to her while you take hot showers and enjoy afternoon naps. As much as he loves seeing you together, there’s something special about the time he spends alone with her. He sings show tunes from musicals he’s been in when she fusses, going through the dance steps as he holds her to his chest. He makes faces and kisses her round cheeks till she’s humming happily, tiny hands reaching to grasp at his nose and chin.
She has your eyes and his ears. The two of you give her baths in the kitchen sink, sudsing up her dark, wispy hair that seems to get a little thicker every day. The teddy bear onesie Adam bought for her is part of the regular rotation, and every time you see her in it, you think of how sure Adam was that you could make this future a reality. He believed in you then and he still believes in you now, marveling at your ability to be a mother.
You feel like you’re beginning to find your flow as parents, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. There are late nights and early mornings, there are days when your interrupted sleep schedule leaves you with frayed nerves and heavy eyelids—but you and Adam have each other’s backs through it all. There are times when Sage will cry and cry and cry, unable to fall asleep when you try to put her down for a nap. You try singing to her and rocking her and playing music all with limited success, but it never seems to fully calm her. You cycle through strategies until one afternoon Adam walks into the room in his running shorts and shoes and simply says “I’ve got this.”
Crying baby tucked into one arm and stroller suspended in the other, he trots down the apartment stairs and emerges onto the Brooklyn streets. He bundles her up in her blankets and settles her into the stroller. Gripping the handle firmly, he takes a deep breath and sets off at a run. She’s still wailing at the end of the first city block, but her cries are farther apart come the second block. Sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, he looks down at her little face and gives her a smile. By the third block, she’s quieted down. By the fourth, she’s sound asleep, lulled by the gentle jostling of the stroller over pavement and Adam’s consistent breathing. Adam steers her toward the park and vows to run until she’s awake again.
Being a father grew Adam up fast, but some things never change. You swat at his arm as he lets the breast pump suction onto the side of his face, cackling like a madman.
“Oh my god, stop it,” you laugh, pulling the pump off his cheek.
“It’s a titty sucking machine!” he gasps, breath short from giggling.
“This is gonna help us out a lot,” you assure him, barely keeping the amusement off your face.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, just say I’m obsolete now,” he says. “My services are no longer necessary.”
You roll your eyes mightily as you shrug off one strap of your tank top and affix the pump to your left breast.
Despite his recent laughter, his mouth goes dry at the sight of the pump pulling creamy white liquid from your swollen nipple. Taking a deep, slow breath through his nose, his jaw works from side to side. He shifts uncomfortably as his cock starts to ache.
“What?” you ask, noticing his hands clenched into fists in his lap.
“Nothing,” he says perhaps too quickly. “I’m, uh, gonna go check on Sage.”
He pushes himself to stand and walks out of the living room, pausing out of sight in the hallway. Leaning back, his head drops back to make a quiet thud against the wall behind him, and he opens and closes his hands, trying to dissipate some of the unexpected arousal building in his body. Slowly, reticently, he allows himself to palm his hardening cock through the fabric of his jeans.
“Fucking creep,” he breathes to himself, hips shifting forward to rut into his hand. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
He indulges in a brief moment of imagining his mouth wrapped around your nipple, squeezing and sucking and…
He pulls his hand away from his length, shaking his head to clear the thought. He makes straight for the bathroom, ready to splash his face with cold water and get his shit together.
_____
Around six weeks after taking Sage home, she smiles for the first time. The same dimples that Adam has pop on her chubby cheeks. It’s also when your OB told you you’d be cleared to have sex again, not that Adam would admit to counting down the days or anything. That first night, he fucks you slow and deep, your foreheads pressed together as he rolls his hips into you. He keeps his hands on your face, your neck, your hips, your thighs, not letting himself wonder too long if he could coax a trickle of milk from your nipple if he pinched and kneaded just right.
Adam read in one of your parenting books that skin-on-skin is best for bonding. He reclines shirtless on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table and hands wrapped around Sage’s tiny body where she rests on his chest. It had taken some time to ease her into sleep this afternoon—lots of kisses and soft songs and gentle strokes along her back. She now sleeps so soundly that Adam can’t help but drift off too.
You awake from your nap and pad down the hallway to the living room where you see them together: Sage rising and falling a couple of inches with each of Adam’s deep inhales and exhales. You linger in the doorway, warmth glowing in your chest at the sight of them—your little family. They look so peaceful, but it’s been a long week and you’re loath to miss out on a little alone time with Adam, so you gently scoop Sage off his chest, careful not to disturb her slumber. You walk down the hall to the nursery, smiling at the soft green walls, and nestle her into the crib Adam built.
He blinks his eyes open slowly, then startles at finding Sage no longer in his hands.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, returning to the living room. “I just put her down.”
He lets out a sigh of relief and your heart squeezes at how protective he is of your little one.
“Thanks,” he says softly, stretching his arms above his head and shifting up to a seat. He turns to look at you and that’s when he sees them—the dark, wet marks on your thin gray tank top, just above your nipples. “Ohhh, fuck,” he groans.
“What?” you ask, following his gaze down to your breasts and realizing that you’ve leaked into your shirt. “Ah, shit, let me go change.”
Adam grabs you by the wrist and pulls you down to the couch before you can turn to leave. You’re confused by his dilated pupils and the look of hunger on his face until his large hands grab your swollen breasts and he lowers his head to suck at the wet spots on your tank.
His tongue laves at your nipples through the damp fabric and you swear you hear him whimper when a fresh trickle of milk leaks out at his squeezing.
“I know it’s not for me,” he grates out, leaning you back on the sofa and grinding his clothed cock into your hips, “but I just want a little taste.”
Smiling devilishly, you hook your fingers in the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head, letting your full, heavy tits fall right in Adam’s face. He stills, looking up at you with dinnerplate eyes and softly parted lips as if to ask your permission.
“Go ahead,” you coo, lifting up one of your breasts in an offering. “You can try a little.” You can’t help the rush of wetness between your thighs when he latches onto your nipple and hollows his cheeks.
He moans rich and low when the first rush of creamy sweetness floods his tongue, so forbidden yet so irresistible.
“Someone’s a greedy boy,” you say, carding your hands through his hair as he continues to suck and squeeze.
He looks up, practically begging with his eyes, and you take the opportunity to push him back against the couch cushions, separating him from your nipple with a wet pop. You make quick work of tugging off your bottoms as he scrambles to push his jeans down his thighs.
His hands crush at your waist as he hauls you onto his lap, pausing to let you line up his thick, hard cock at your freshly slicked entrance. Any other time he’d go slow with you, letting you stretch to accommodate him like this, but he needs you right now. He slams you down to his hips, your plump tits right at face level, and latches onto the other nipple as he starts to drag you back and forth on his length. He hits you deep like this—he always does—but something about the feel of his lips and tongue on your swollen nipples makes even more heat pool in your core.
“How do I taste?” you whisper, kissing his forehead.
“So fucking good,” he gasps as he pulls off you. “So fucking sweet.” He drops his thumb to your clit to rub you rough and fast. “Wanna feel you cum, mama.”
He buries his face in your tits as you mewl with pleasure, feeling your release building with every stroke. You can tell how close he is by the way his hips start to stutter as he drives up into you, so you yank his head back by the hair and catch his lips with your own. He moans when your tongue slides against his and that’s all it takes for you to snap, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The way your cunt squeezes him pulls him over the edge, too, and he ruts up into you desperately as he paints your walls white.
You hold each other tight, panting and vibrating with shared energy. As Adam’s breathing slows he pulls back so he can press his lips all over your neck and chest, peppering your tits with soft kisses.
Your eyes meet and he drags a finger from the center of your chest all the way down to where the two of you connect.
“I fucking love cumming in you,” he says, “but I don’t know much I like knowing you’re on birth control now.”
It’s true—your doctor got you started on a contraceptive around three weeks after giving birth to Sage.
“Is that so?” you ask, raising a brow as you drag your hands through his hair.
“Yes,” he says, baring his teeth slightly as he squeezes at your lower belly.
“Well maybe that’s something we could talk about,” you say with a small smile.
“Then let’s talk about it,” he rasps, pulling you in for a kiss.
