thinking about having a older brother who babies me and is always helping me. he’d drop everything to be there for me, his precious little sister. everyone thinks it’s so cute how he’s such a good brother, unlike other siblings who always fight with each other. our family and his friends would wonder why he’s not dating anyone, since he was such a catch; he was smart, put together, and good looking. they wouldn’t even notice how is gaze always wanders to me, how his hand lingers on mine, how he’s always the first person i call when i’m upset. god, he’d do anything for me, and everyone just assumes it’s because we have a close sibling bond.
they definitely wouldn’t know about how i spend the night at his place, in his bed, with him. how i know where everything in his apartment is, how he lets me sit in his lap whenever i want. in fact, he even insists on it, pulling me on top of him whenever we’re alone, as he whispers in my ear that that was where i belonged, in his arms, with him.
he’d have been the one to take my virginity, kissing me gently as he made love to me. he wanted the best for me, calling me his baby. we were made for each other and he loved reminding me of that. my cunt fit around his cock so snug, our bodies perfectly slotted against each other. i was his everything and he would do anything for me, even taking responsibility for me and helping me make decisions. it made him feel good to be useful to me, to guide me.
God, I want to fuck you in front of your roommate. Could you imagine if she walked in on us as my cock slid in and out of your tight, wet cunt? I wouldn't give a shit but in this fantasy, you probably would. You'd try to push me away and prop your head up with an arm under the thin blankets, like I'm not pounding away at that sloppy fucking cunt. Like your roommate can't hear my balls slapping against your pussy.
You'd shakily try to start a conversation with her but something would catch your throat as she bends over and slowly, slowly peels her tights jeans, the waist of it squeezing her slutty ass she pulls it down. You'd watch her strip away her panties before laying back on her bed, spreading her legs. She'd give her fingers a lick before pushing them down to her cunt.
It'd be so obvious and so brazen that you'd simply lay on your bed, whimpering, your eyes fixed to her. You'd realise my cock's twitching inside you, my eyes also fixed to her cunt. You'd realise how much faster I'm fucking you.
"That's a good girl. Such a good, pretty little thing for me, aren't you? Getting off to your boyfriend's stiff, hard cock while she touches herself. You two are such a pervy set of roommates, aren't you? Yeah you are." I'd whisper to you under my breath. You'd shudder in response.
Slowly, you'd feel our blanket slide across us. You wouldn't really notice until you heard your roommate gasp and whimper slightly, the sight of my cock plowing into that tight fucking cunt of yours making her flick her clit faster.
Fuck, I love that you'd lose your mind a little. I love that your cunt would fucking throb and clench down on me as you realise what's happening. That you're being turned into the perfect little pornstar for your roommate.
Oh my god... I wonder how often we'd get to fuck like that in front of her? I'd love to watch you lose your mind as I turn you into my personal fleshlight in front them.
[I feel like this is one of those times where I must remind you that fantasy and reality are two completely separate things]
C/W: err... cheating
Is it fucked up that I'd want to fuck my daughter's bully on her birthday while my wife covered for me? God... I'd love to get a video call from my wife on the day as our daughter's teenage bully bounces up and down my cock. Slamming her cock up and down like she doesn't give a shit that her cunt's wrapped around a married man's cock. Or that it's her pathetic victim's dad she's fucking.
Oh god, I'd love to pick up to my wife asking how she is. Whether her cunt's as tight as we'd hoped. Whether it feels just as good as we'd hoped. That tight fucking cunt being stretched out by my heavy cock as we get a lovely view out of the hotel window.
My wife would put our baby on the phone and I'd have to listen to her babble while I try not to cum in her bully's cunt. Muting myself occasionally so I can spank her bully's fat ass. So I can groan and furiously fuck her harder. Shit, it'd be so hard pretending I'm on some random business trip and not railing her bully's tight, teen pussy. It'd be so hard wishing her a happy birthday as the piece of shit that makes her life miserable moans like a cheap fucking whore under me.
God, I'd have our daughter hand the phone back to my wife before she trots back to her room. Shit, I bet her mother would love to watch my cock buried in that pretty little fuckhole. I bet she'd love to hear this bitch talk shit about our daughter. Listening to her tell us about how she's going to bully our girl even more. How she's going to suck my cock after humiliating her. Fuck, my wife would lose it. She'd rub herself to an orgasm as she watches me fill up that teenage fucking bully, ugh.
[Academic discussions with @emocuckquean inspired this]
C/W: Cuckquean, Misogyny/ Gender Traitor
Fuck, I'd want you to train other girls up for me like a good little gender traitor. One hand gently stroking my cock up and down while you text for them to come over. God... I'd want your lips kissing the tip of my cock as you jerk me off and tell me about the pretty little cunts you've lured over. Shit, we both know your cunt would be as wet as my cock would be hard.
I'd love for you to lure them closer, your slutty fucking ass as you sway out of the bedroom to drag them gently in. Whispering soft words of reassurance into her ears as you look at me... look at my stiff, aching cock as it throbs in my hand. God, you'd push her closer to me, my perfect, nasty little accomplice, before dragging her lips to my cock.
And then you'd push.
A fistful of her hair in your hand as you jerk her head up and down on my cock, your lips reaching for mine. Shit, I'd have a hand on your face, pulling your lips closer into mine, and another groping your slutty fucking ass, even as that cheap, pathetic, innocent little fleshlight chokes on me. God, you'd occasionally go back down to her and fuck her face harder onto my cock before whispering vile, nasty things about how this is what women are meant to do. This is how cunts are supposed to serve men.
Shit, I'd want for you to join her down there. I'd want to feel your lips take over the tip of my cock as she eagerly works on my balls. My legs spread like an arrogant fucking prick, a king surrounded by his sluts, while the two of you eagerly worship my cock.
God, I'd want you to corrupt her. I'd want you to make her worse for me. I want you to show her how good it feels to serve men. And I'll show her how real men treat subby, stupid little sluts like her. With a firm hand and a hard cock.
God, I wonder how that night would end. Would she be eat my cum out of you? Or would you be eating it out of her?
Imagine if I got you a sister-wife. If one day you were cooking and cleaning, only to find another woman making herself comfortable at our place. Not just another girl for me to spend the night with. Another relationship.
Fuck, could you imagine choosing out outfits with each other for me? Pretty little girlfriends that dress like complete sluts before the crawl over to me. Her hands wrapped around your hair, pushing you further down on my cock, encouraging you to be a good fucking girl for me. Her pretty voice calling you a nasty little cocksleeve before you realise my hands are groping her tits. Wouldn't be cute if you were made to thank her afterwards, lips red and swollen?
Not fighting each other but working to drain my balls faster. Harder. Gazing into her eyes as her tongue scrapes out any dignity it can find in my asshole while you find yourself gagging on my cock. Shit, you'd make a perfect dream team. Could you imagine being made to eat my cum out of each other? You'd partially enjoy how humiliating it is... but you'd also enjoy tongue fucking your new best friend.
Best friends that cook and clean and work together. Best friends that find themselves grinding their cunts against each other, your pussies getting all icky and sticky. So, so messy. So ready for a cock to slide in. God, I'd love getting photos from the two of you throughout the day. Of your lips on her tits and her tongue in your cunt.
Just riling me up over the course of the day so that when I'm back you're made to share my cock together. Shit, what if I had you suck my cock right after sliding it out of her? Your husband's cock coated in the cunt drool of some other whore that waltzed into your house... you'd love it. You'd crave it more than anything in the world.
God, maybe I should have you pick her out for me? Your sister-wife.
You stare at the symbols on the page, but all you see is a mess of x’s and y’s. Your brain is overheating the longer you look. You’re just not getting it.
"You’re lost again?"
You don’t look up. You can’t. The heat crawling up your neck is already unbearable. You just nod, your hair falling over your face.
"It’s the chain rule. We’ve gone over this three times." His voice is sharp. "Are you even listening or is your head just full of air?"
Your thighs press together under the table. This is the problem. Not the math problem, but the problem. The reason you keep flunking calc and scheduling these tutoring sessions.
He taps an impatient finger on the textbook. "The derivative of the outside function, times the derivative of the inside function. That’s it. Why is that so hard? Being a dumb little girl isn’t an excuse."
Dumb little girl.
Your brain stops working every time you hear that annoyed edge in his voice. The numbers blur. All you can think about is the wetness pooling between your legs. Your panties were dry an hour ago; now they’re sticking to you. Soaked.
"I… I don’t know," you manage to get out. Your voice is a pathetic little squeak.
"I don’t know." He repeats it, mocking you. "Of course you don’t know. You can barely stay focused."
His shadow falls over you as he leans forward. He’s so close. His scent makes your head swim.
"Look at me."
You lift your head slowly. His eyes are dark, narrowed with frustration. You think he might just grab you and shake you.
"Are you even trying? Or are you just wasting my time?"
"I’m trying," you whisper, and it’s true. You are. You’re trying not to squirm in your seat. You’re trying not to let him see how his disappointment makes you drip.
He runs a hand through his hair. "I’m starting to think this is pointless. You’re just not getting it."
The words land like little stones, and with each one, you leak a little more. It’s too much. If this goes on any longer it’s going to be impossible to hide the wet patch forming on the plastic of the library chair. You have to get out of here. You have to fix yourself.
"I need to… I need the bathroom." You push your chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the floor.
He waves a dismissive hand, already looking back at the textbook as if you’re not even there anymore. The humiliation of it is a fresh thrill. You practically run from the room.
In the bathroom, you splash water on your burning face. You lean against the sink, breathing hard. You’re a mess. Hopeless. You press a wad of toilet paper between your legs, trying to soak up the evidence of just how pathetic you are for him. After a few minutes, feeling a little less likely to fall apart, you head back.
When you walk in, he’s not looking at the book anymore. He’s staring at your empty chair.
"What the fuck is that?"
You follow his gaze. On the smooth, beige plastic of the seat is a dark, damp patch. A perfect little outline of where you were sitting. Your heart stops. Your blood runs cold, then hot.
He looks from the chair, to your face, then back to the chair.
"Did you get so scared of a little math problem that you wet yourself?"
Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. This is so much worse than him thinking you’re stupid.
He stands up, walks around the table, and stops in front of the chair. He crouches down, inspecting the wet spot like a detective at a crime scene.
"No," He looks up at you, "you like being humiliated. I bully you a little, and you get this wet."
You can only stand there, exposed, barely able to breathe.
"Well, the least you can do is clean up your own mess."
You stare at him, confused. "I… I can get a paper towel…"
"No" He shakes his head. "You clearly need some discipline. Lap it up with your tongue, slut."
The words don’t compute at first. He can’t be serious.
"Lick it clean."
His hand shoots out and grabs the back of your neck, his fingers digging in. He forces you down to your knees in front of the chair.
"Don’t waste my time."
Your face is inches from the plastic seat. You can see the damp sheen of your own arousal. The scent is faint, but it’s there. Humiliating. You hesitate for a second too long, and his grip tightens, pushing your head forward until your nose bumps against the chair.
There’s no use fighting it. You give in.
You stick out your tongue and give a tentative lick. He grunts, the first sound of approval you’ve heard today. You close your eyes and start licking in earnest, trying to erase the spot, your tongue swiping back and forth, back and forth.
His hand slides down your back. It rests on your ass for a moment, then hooks into the waistband of your shorts. With a single, sharp tug, he yanks them down to your knees, taking your wet panties with it.
Before you can even react, two fingers shove right inside you.
You gasp, your mouth falling open against the chair. You’re so, so wet. He doesn’t need any prep. You’re a fucking fountain for him. His fingers are brutal, plunging in and out, ramming against you.
"You’re so fucking pathetic," his voice is rough, right against your ear "Leaking all over the goddamn library furniture like a stupid bitch in heat."
Every thrust of his fingers is a spark. Your hips start to buck against his hand, a mindless, needy motion. You’re on your knees, your face pressed to the chair, lapping up your own mess while he paws at your cunt. It’s the most disgusting thing that has ever happened to you.
And you’re about to cum.
"Sir I'm—I’m…" you whimper, barely even processing what’s happening.
"Get it over with." He drives his fingers in deeper, harder.
You can’t form words. Your brain just… shorts out. The pleasure is too sharp, too laced with humiliation. It builds and builds until your whole body locks up. You collapse against the chair, twitching, your inner muscles clenching violently around his fingers. He holds you there until the last aftershock fades, and then pulls his fingers out with a wet schlick.
"Get up."
You stumble to your feet, not even having the sense to pull up your shorts. You see him, already back at his side of the table, unzipping his jeans. He pulls out his cock. It’s thick and hard, jutting out from his pants. It’s everything you’ve been imagining and more.
"Sit down," he says, pointing not at your chair, but at his lap. "We’re not done until you understand the problem."
Your legs move on their own. You go to him, turn around, and slowly, carefully, lower yourself onto his cock. You gasp as he slides inside you. It’s a tight fit, stretching you, filling you up. He reaches around you, his arms caging you in, and grabs the textbook.
He holds it in front of your face. "Now. The derivative of x-squared plus one, all to the power of three. Fucking do it."
You stare at the symbols again. They’re still just squiggles. You can’t think. You can only feel him, thick and hot inside your ruined pussy.
"I… uh… three times…" you start, your voice trembling.
"Three times what? Use your words."
"Three times… x… squared…?"
"Wrong."
He slams his hips up, driving his cock deep into you. "No, you stupid slut!" he snarls, and the force of the thrust makes you cry out. "Derivative of the outside first! Three times the whole goddamn function to the power of two! How many times do I have to say it?"
You sob, a tear rolling down your cheek. "I’m sorry…"
"Don’t be sorry. Be right." He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the page. "Now the derivative of the inside. What’s the derivative of x-squared plus one?"
You’re shaking. Every time you breathe, you can feel the head of his cock rubbing against your cervix. "Two… two-x?"
"Finally." He rewards you with a slow, grinding rotation of his hips. A moan escapes your lips. "See? You’re not completely useless."
He walks you through the rest of the problem like that. Every correct step earns you a slow, teasing grind. Every mistake, every hesitation, earns you a brutal slam of his hips and another venomous insult. He calls you dumb, a whore, a worthless cunt who’s only good for one thing. And with every insult, every punishing thrust, you get closer and closer — to the right answer — and also to cumming again. It’s a cruel form of reinforcement learning spurred on by his cock and the hateful words in your ear. "Now write the final answer," he commands.
You can’t. Your hands are gripping his arms like a vice, the pressure building and building to an unbearable peak. You’re about to cum again, just from the friction and the filth. You shake your head.
His grip tightens on your waist. "Write it."
Somehow, you obey. Your hand is trembling so badly you can barely hold the pencil. You reach over, your whole body stretched taut over his cock, and scrawl the final, correct equation on the page.
He looks down at your shaky handwriting. At the right answer.
"Good girl."
He slams his hips up into you one final time. That’s all it takes.
Your whole body rattles. You come apart, an endless orgasm that leaves you completely undone, twitching and whimpering against him. He lets you ride out the aftershocks, then he floods you, his hot cum shooting ropes deep inside.
He pulls out. Abruptly. You feel suddenly empty, hollowed out. A thick, creamy white trail drips from between your legs, running in a messy line down your inner thigh.
He pushes you off his lap and you stumble, barely catching yourself on the edge of the table. Then he glances down at the textbook, at the perfectly correct answer you wrote in your final, desperate moment.
"Looks like you’re finally getting it."
He stares back at you, a mess of sweat and cum and tears.
"But we’ll have to make sure we reinforce today’s lesson. Same time tomorrow."
Based this on one of your writings, I hope you enjoy;
You come home earlier than expected. The door clicks shut behind you, and there I am—buried deep in her, her legs wrapped around my waist like she belongs there. I don’t flinch. I don’t pull out. I simply look over at you with that same steady gaze you know so well, and I smile.
You freeze in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted. Too many thoughts crashing through that pretty head of yours. I watch you sink into the chair by the bed, knees weak, hands trembling in your lap. Good girl. No screaming. No tears yet. Just stunned silence.
“That’s it,” I murmur, voice low and even as I keep my rhythm slow and deliberate. “Look at you, handling this so well. I knew you could.”
She whimpers beneath me, but my attention stays on you. No guilt. No apology. This was never about ending us. She’s just a warm, willing distraction—tight, eager variety. You’re still mine. You’ll always be mine.
I pat the empty space on the bed beside us. “Not there. Come here, baby. Sit next to me.”
You hesitate, but you obey. Of course you do. I reach out, brush a strand of hair from your flushed cheek while I thrust deeper into her. “Watch,” I say softly. “Watch how well she takes me. See the way her body opens up for it.”
Your brows knit together. Your lip catches between your teeth. I can see the storm behind your eyes—shock, hurt, something darker twisting beneath it all.
“Do you know what a cuckquean is, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, barely able to speak.
I explain it calmly, patiently, like I’m teaching you something sacred. “It means you get wet when your man fucks someone else. It means you need to be set aside, used as the backdrop while I enjoy what I want. I think that’s you. I think I’m cucking you right now.”
You deny it instantly, voice cracking. Sweet little protests. I only smirk.
“Slip your hand in your pants,” I tell you. “Touch yourself. Find out who’s right.”
You fight it for a moment. Then your fingers move. The second you feel how soaked you are, your face burns crimson. I drink in that shame like fine wine.
“There it is,” I say, almost gently. “That’s the point, love. It’s supposed to humiliate you. I’m disrespecting you. I’m choosing her pussy over yours while you sit here dripping for it. Doesn’t it sting so beautifully? Knowing you’re not enough to keep my full attention? Not pretty enough, not tight enough, not interesting enough?”
“Stop,” you whisper, even as your hand moves faster.
I don’t stop. “No. You need this. You want to be cucked. Look at you—rubbing that desperate little clit while I fuck another girl right beside you.”
Your breathing turns ragged. Your thighs tremble. And when you finally break, when you come hard on your own fingers with a broken, humiliated moan, I let my smile widen.
“See?” I murmur, still moving inside her, still in complete control. “Undeniable proof, baby. You’re my perfect little cuckquean.”
I lean in, press a soft kiss to your temple while your body still shakes.
“Now sit there and watch the rest. We’re not done yet.”
fuck, this is perfect and exactly what i imagined. i love it. the thought of my man knowing i’m a cuckquean before me and talking me through realizing it is so hot. like yes, call me baby while you completely turn my world upside down and make me learn things about myself that i never knew and make me accept it despite how in denial i am.
even after i cum at the sight of you with another woman, i would probably still deny being a cuckquean, brushing it off as a natural body reaction or a fluke. you would have to gentle parent me into accepting the fact that it turns me on. maybe you’d have to keep being with other women in front of me as you explain that i can take it, that i’d even like it if i just let go and trusted you. it would be like exposure therapy, trying to get me to let go of my conventional, monogamous view on relationships. you’d explain that you’re not doing this as an excuse to cheat, no, you were doing it for me.
somehow, you knew i was a cuckquean. perhaps i had seen you check out another girl and said nothing about it, not even realizing that my action implied consent about you looking at other girls. maybe i had seen you like a photo of a model in a bikini on social media and didn’t start an argument like most girlfriends would. the point was that i had unconsciously given off signals that made you realize what i was. and once you did, you knew it was your responsibility to help me come to terms with it, to embrace it.
and if that meant giving me lessons on being a cuckquean and navigating the jealousy, hurt, and reluctant arousal, then that was exactly what you were going to do.
Is it gross that if I were your dad, I'd teach you to be gross?
Like, one moment, I'd pet your hair and read you a bed time story, and the next... my cock would begin to throb. And suddenly I'd need my pretty little kid slut to drain my balls. Oh, I'd read you your story alright. But only if you dutifully sucked on daddy's thick, aching cock. Only if I got to feel your lips wrapped around my shaft and got to see your lips all hollowed as you suckled away like a good little daughter cumdump.
Quietly murmuring what a good job you're doing and what a good girl you're being for me as I pump back and forth. Fingers in your hair, gently guiding your lips into being the perfect fleshlight for your daddy's thick cock. God, I'd have started on you young. I'd have taught you your purpose as a slutty, silly little homegrown cum dump before you could even think to question it.
Shit... and maybe I'd even teach you to be a little urinal for me. Is that gross? Your own daddy turning his precious little princess into a filthy, nasty, piss drinking slut? I love that I'd teach you and corrupt you and ensure you'd never know any better.
Is that fucked up of me?
[soz if there are any typos, lately writing this w one eye open]
if you started teaching me young, then i wouldn’t know it’s gross and fucked up, would i?
it’d be our bedtime routine: me sucking you off, relieving any tension you have, and only afterwards you tell me a bedtime story as a reward. i’d be such an obedient girl for you, daddy, slackening my jaw and letting you use me however you want. i’d do anything just to get you to praise me and pet my hair, rewarding me.
maybe some days a blowjob wouldn’t be enough. i’d let you position me however you like, sink your cock into my cunt however you want. i want you to fuck me the way you want, for you to find me useful. i want daddy to need me.
and if daddy needs a urinal, then i would gladly be one. before you even suggest it, i would have already asked to at least hold your cock while you piss. i wonder if you would prefer showering me in your piss, marking your territory, or having me drink your piss, a show of my devotion to you, my willingness to do anything for daddy.
God... I suppose if I started you nice and young, it'd be so, so normal for you. There would be nothing wrong with the idea of your tiny, little lips around daddy's thick, stiff cock. Eagerly bobbing up and down, again and again as my thick, strained words mess up your bedtime story. An incoherent story about a nosy little girl slowly turned into one about a girl being used and fucked and degraded by her father as I wrap coil locks of your hair around my hand and pummel your tiny throat harder. Our special daddy-daughter time.
And it'd be so, so fucking icky but I'd teach you that it's okay for men to touch their daughters. For our thick fingers to molest their princess' little cunts, stretching them for our hard, pervert cocks. It's okay, sweetie. I'd make you useful. I'd slide my heavy cock into that pretty, tight cunt that moment the clock strikes 12 and give you what you need. That's what you were born for, weren't you? Just a sweet, innocent little fuckdoll for your daddy to groom into something nastier and grosser. Just a pretty, tight cunt and a pair of tits for your daddy to use. To fuck.
Nobody else would understand and that's okay. It'd be our little secret. That you're your daddy's disgusting, filthy fucking cocksleeve. A pretty little cum-draining fuckhole. His ultimate princess fleshlight.
But even princesses need to be good. They need to be obedient and disgusting on demand. Even princesses need to be claimed and marked. It wouldn't be enough to be the first and only to splatter and spray my pervy cum in your womb. I'd have to mark you with piss. I'd have you gargle my piss and have you tell me how much you love daddy. Corrupting your brain into something nastier and messier than any other men ever could.
I'd ruin you into something only your daddy would want to keep forever and ever.
I'm imagining this little sister, absolutely in love and obsessed with her older brother, saving herself for him. Knowing that he deserves to be fucking all these dumb whores, but when he's ready, he'll settle down with her.
But really, he's saving her, keeping his innocent and pure little sister untouched, fresh, while he fucks his rotation of cumdumps. He couldn't do that to her, even though he loves seeing her get turned on and wet watching him fuck these women. He needs his little angel nice and sweet, but still needs to dump his cum in someone.
One day, he'll take his sister as his, but for now he's going to enjoy himself, and she enjoys it too. One day he'll make her a woman. She's patient.
his little sister deserves the best. he would shower her in affection and take things slow with her. that wouldn’t stop him from fucking other women, sluts, on the side. those women would mean nothing to him, just a placeholder until his beloved sister is ready for him. maybe he’d let her watch him fuck them, giving her a lesson in how to please him. she would know exactly what her older brother likes by the time he finally allows her into his bed.
and even when after he begins to sleep with his sister, he’d still keep his harem of women. his sister was so precious, he could only make love to her. he needed a different outlet for when he wanted rougher, harder sex. he couldn’t degrade or hurt his sister in any capacity; she didn’t deserve that.
Is it gross that if I were your dad, I'd teach you to be gross?
Like, one moment, I'd pet your hair and read you a bed time story, and the next... my cock would begin to throb. And suddenly I'd need my pretty little kid slut to drain my balls. Oh, I'd read you your story alright. But only if you dutifully sucked on daddy's thick, aching cock. Only if I got to feel your lips wrapped around my shaft and got to see your lips all hollowed as you suckled away like a good little daughter cumdump.
Quietly murmuring what a good job you're doing and what a good girl you're being for me as I pump back and forth. Fingers in your hair, gently guiding your lips into being the perfect fleshlight for your daddy's thick cock. God, I'd have started on you young. I'd have taught you your purpose as a slutty, silly little homegrown cum dump before you could even think to question it.
Shit... and maybe I'd even teach you to be a little urinal for me. Is that gross? Your own daddy turning his precious little princess into a filthy, nasty, piss drinking slut? I love that I'd teach you and corrupt you and ensure you'd never know any better.
Is that fucked up of me?
[soz if there are any typos, lately writing this w one eye open]
if you started teaching me young, then i wouldn’t know it’s gross and fucked up, would i?
it’d be our bedtime routine: me sucking you off, relieving any tension you have, and only afterwards you tell me a bedtime story as a reward. i’d be such an obedient girl for you, daddy, slackening my jaw and letting you use me however you want. i’d do anything just to get you to praise me and pet my hair, rewarding me.
maybe some days a blowjob wouldn’t be enough. i’d let you position me however you like, sink your cock into my cunt however you want. i want you to fuck me the way you want, for you to find me useful. i want daddy to need me.
and if daddy needs a urinal, then i would gladly be one. before you even suggest it, i would have already asked to at least hold your cock while you piss. i wonder if you would prefer showering me in your piss, marking your territory, or having me drink your piss, a show of my devotion to you, my willingness to do anything for daddy.
really want to watch my boyfriend fuck another girl while unintentionally and indirectly hurting me. he would praise her, mesmerized by her lithe body. she was just so skinny and so small. her slender waist fit perfectly against his big hands. fuck, he would be in love with the size difference; it was just so much more evident with her than with me. it would turn him on so much, curses and groans falling from his mouth. he doesn’t even mean it as a snub to me; he just couldn’t help the compliments that he was showering her in. she was like a goddess that he was worshipping, possessing the perfect feminine figure. he would make me feel so inadequate and insecure without even realizing it. the sincerity and lust in his voice would speak of truth as he accidentally put her body on a pedestal above mine. it would be so hot to be not-bodyshamed in this manner.
thinking about having a twin brother and being so close with him that people question it but ultimately write it off as a twins thing. we would be inseparable, always handsy with each other. where one of us was, the other wasn’t far off. he would constantly be teasing or ragebaiting me, trying to get a rise out of me because he liked seeing me pissed off. we’d share everything from secrets to clothes (i’d steal his). if we say together on the couch, our shoulders and thighs would be touching. if strangers saw us, they’d probably think, ‘siblings or dating?’
but maybe we were siblings and dating. no one would see all the stolen kisses or his hand on my thigh under the table or the hickeys he leaves under my shirt. our friends would wonder why we never dated anyone, ask us if we have a crush, at least. i’d shrug and he would give some bullshit excuse, anything to hide the fact that we very much liked each other and were intimately involved.
we would sneak into each other’s bed at night to cuddle, knowing our parents won’t check up on our rooms in the middle of the night. it would be so easy for him to grind against my ass, letting me feel his desire for me. even easier for him slide his cock into me under the blankets, slowly fucking me as i try to keep my moans quiet. and yet whimpers would fall my mouth as his hand rests on my hip, holding me steady as he thrusts into me, kissing my neck and murmuring sweet nothings and dirty whispers into my ear.
Have been on your blog a lot lately and it got me thinking so much about dynamics and UGH
Currently really into the idea of fan x rock/pop/etc. star where the star gets off on fucked up sex and their fan (to become partner) takes it all in the name of getting to be with them, no matter if it's choking, anal, somno, you name it, they'll comply.
And when the famous partner suggests they should get to have sex with other people while out and about in the world, the fan partner is so distraught over it, at least in the beginning.
They then agree that its only okay, but only when they call and can hear/see/etc. what their partner does to their flings.
Idk, just needed to share this, no need to reply if this isn't for you/doesn't fit your vibes!
Are you kidding? Doesn't fit my vibe? 😭😭 This is exactly up my alley, it's so disgustingly hot.
C/W: Anal, Rimming
Imagine how small she'd feel, so vulnerable, so utterly desperate for a shred of recognition and acknowledement that she pushes herself further for him. Especially if she wasn't a fan.
I mean something like anal sounds pretty painful and really not so fun... but could you imagine the faces she'd make as he casually pushes himself inside her ass? Callously spanking her ass as he takes a long sip of his drink and flicks through his phone. This would be one of the most defining moments of her life but to him... it'd just be another day with just another tight, anal fleshlight wrapped around his cock.
I love the idea that he might treat her like shit, brutally pounding away at her holes any time she tries to appear romantic. That he might corrupt her sense of romance. No longer would she expect flowers or chocolate. "Perhaps this is how celebrities love" is what she'd think after he comes home and has her relieve his stress by french kissing his asshole.
She'd hate it but she'd do it because that'd be the price of love. Because he's worth degrading and debasing herself. Offering herself up as a little rapetoy, slowly giving up more and more rights, especially as she flicks through his interviews, carefully watching some pretty female celebrity lean in a little too close.
And when he'd bring up seeing other people? God... I mean, she'd have to know that she was never going to be enough, right? It's like loving the sun and expecting to keep it for herself. That'd just be selfish. I'd love it if he changed her. If he made her watch and get off to his cock sinking into some hotter, nameless woman from around the world. Pathetically edging on that call, knowing that he'd come back home to her soon enough and make it all worth it.
God, I love that it'd change her brain chemistry so utterly much.
despite my page being dedicated to it, not everything needs to be about cucking. cucking is just a fantasy to me so genuinely feel free to send asks about any other kinks (in pinned) or scenarios.
