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i dont remember following u..... (not complaining tho)
was surprised when "freshbakedbreadstick" reposted a smut fic 😭😭 /gen
HELPPPP im so sorry i jumpscared u with smut 😭 this is KILLING ME anyways i hope u stay n have fun here n find something real delicious to read in the mean time 😭😭😭😭😭😭
warnings: 18+, smut, continuation to this, perv!adrian, sub!adrian, dry humping, nipple play, riding, p in v sex, creampie, mentions of f!receiving oral, etc.
summary: adrian's roommate catches him with his face shoved in her panties, leading to an interesting afternoon.
wc: 2.5k
a/n: not proofread
prev
"fuck."
"oh my god, adrian-"
"wait! it's not what it looks like! these- they're not yours! they're someone else's, i swear! i- i'm not a creep, or anything like that. i'm a totally, completely normal roommate! fuck- please don't move out!"
you stepped closer, eyebrows still furrowed in sheer- well, adrian couldn't quite tell what the look on your face was. he wanted to assume disgust, but if it was disgust you would've already ran out the room instead of coming closer and- oh, you shut the door behind you, oh-
the room became dark again, losing the sole source of lighting the open door had been giving it. adrian couldn't understand how he didn't notice you open the door. had you knocked? had he even closed it? fuck! he let himself be too caught up in your panties to even take in his surroundings.
"yeah? you sure about that?" you tilted your chin defiantly, quite literally looking down on him.
"uh-huh ... yeah! i'm sure, i- these aren't yours! it's actually a little self-absorbed of you to make that assumption, uh, also, i'm- i'm kinda naked right now-"
your eyes trailed down, meeting his limp dick as it laid on his abdomen. it was fully beaten down, having done its job mere seconds before you'd walked into the room — and you, standing there, still wearing those damn pj shorts, it made him panic at the thought of it getting hard all over again.
adrian rushed to cover himself up with a pillow, however delayed his reaction was in this current circumstance (you'd already gotten a good eyeful of the goods).
now at the foot of the bed, you reached down to grab at the lace, bringing it up to his eye line.
"these are my size."
"that is purely coincidental!"
"they're also the brand i usually buy."
"well- maybe you've just got generic taste."
you cocked your head, "so if these aren't mine ... whose are they?"
this sent him on a loop. he hadn't planned that far ahead. he never really did. living in the moment and all that.
"they're uh- they're- i-"
letting him stammer out a response for a moment or two, you sat at the edge of the bed, making his blubbering halt for the first time. his gulp was practically audible.
"what if i told you i left them out for you to find?"
oh, fuck.
fuckfuckfuckfuck-
"you- what do you mean by that?" he immediately sat up, crotch still covered by a pillow, but still painfully naked otherwise. but his mind was elsewhere, running a mile a minute due to your words.
you shrugged, "i mean it exactly as it sounds."
"you, uh, you have to tell me if you're being sarcastic. cause- cause it'd be kinda mean if you made fun of me when i'm being so vulnerable."
the air got a little heavier as soon as you sat down, and even as clueless as adrian could be to social cues, even he could detect the shift. but, still, he needed to make sure. he didn't want to face the brunt of a deadly combination of humiliation and blue balls — cause, yeah, he was already getting hard again (blame your tiny little shorts!).
"do you need me to be more obvious? isn't me being half-naked every time you're around enough?"
fuck!
he let his eyes wander (not that they hadn't already), this time allowing himself the time to take a nice, long look at your thighs as you crossed your legs on his bed. then they traveled up, taking note of the two peaks peeking through the thin material of your tank top. it wasn't even hot enough for you to need to wear such little clothing. you were really doing it on purpose.
after a few harsh blinks, adrian opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he's going to say before he says it. but fortunately for him, you beat him to the punch.
"if you admit they were my panties, i'll let you-"
"yes."
you laughed, "you don't even know what i was about to say."
"yes to anything you say. are you- are you crazy? i have a hot babe in my bed wearing the tiniest shorts known to man and looking at me like she's about to eat me — or at least that's what i hope that look means, because if not, that'd be reaaallyyy embarrassing, man."
another laugh left your lips. he wasn't sure what he was doing to make you laugh, but he wanted to make sure it happened again and again. up until the point you let him take off your clothes and have you making other types of noises under him, maybe let him make you laugh some more over pillow talk.
"move the pillow, then."
fuck, it was those sultry eyes again. and your tone of voice was lower than before. yeah, he was about to score.
moving the pillow aside, he readjusted his glasses. they were a little foggy from his heavy breath, but he still had a perfect view of your eyes going down to his dick — which was already rock hard again.
your eyes flickered back up to his, smirking at him as if you'd won some price. it made him uneasy, but it also turned him on like crazy.
"show me what you were doing with my panties," you ordered. not asked, not suggested, ordered. it had him gulping back a breath.
"y-yeah, okay."
again, his hand went to find his dick, gripping it and beginning to jerk it slowly. his other hand, still grasping your panties, traveled up to his face, unabashed in shoving them against his nose and inhaling deeply. the moan that came from his lips was not accidental, but louder than he'd expected.
next to him, you watched, fingers digging into the comforter beneath you. your bottom lip was trapped under your upper teeth, eyes completely focused on his right hand as it played with his cock.
"you- you like this? you like watching me? fuck, that's so dirty- it's so hot, fuck ... you're so fucking hot- i can't believe this is happening-"
he panted word after word, a little muffled due to the panties currently covering half his face. but also, he was on top of the world. he had a pretty girl looking to him like he was edible, like he was one right move away from you shoving him on the bed and riding his face. he felt his entire body vibrate with want.
suddenly, he felt you move, and before he could react, your hand was gripping at his chin, pulling the panties away as you brought him towards you. without realizing how or when, you were now sat on his lap, his hand between you and still hard at work on his cock, but your lips were now on his, tongue shoved so deep down his throat his eyes couldn't help rolling back.
"f-fuck, hmmph! hnng..."
and then your hips made their way into the picture, rocking against him, hands pushing his own aside so you could connect your pelvis with his own — his unclothed, yours barely. as if zapped by the friction, his hands immediately jumped to grip at your waist, pulling you closer, following your rhythm.
"let me fuck you- please tell me that's where this is going," he pleaded, barely able to speak as your tongue attacked to his lips, "cause- fuck, i'm so fucking horny- you're so hot. i've been wanting you for ages. i'd let you do whatever you want to me- i'll do anything you want. even the dirty, freaky stuff- like, anything!"
when he'd broken the kiss, your lips began trailing down, sucking marks along the way and making him shudder every single time. eventually your lips found his nipple, making his words cease and for more whimpers to leave his lips.
"oh, fuck- that feels so fucking good- hmph, i'm gonna cum if you keep doing this to me-"
"don't come," you finally speak, heading straight back to his lips, noses touching and lips barely gracing, "i'm gonna ride you, and then you're gonna clean up your own cum out of me, okay?"
a full body shudder ran down adrian's body. your voice was serious, demanding, and your gaze unwavering as you flicked back and forth from his eyes to his lips. he felt like a piece of meat.
nodding, he tried to hold back a groan, but it ended up leaving his lips regardless when you suddenly threw off your tiny little tank top. your breasts slipping out had him salivating, made his fingers twitch on your waist and his hips cant up slightly.
"you want some new panties to sniff, adrian?"
fuck, when you said it like that it sounded soooo dirty. but, still, adrian nodded adamantly, eyes widening when you got off his lap to slip them off before making your way right back on him. panties now in hand, you dangled them like a prize to be earned.
"open your mouth."
again, he groaned painfully, but his mouth still opened, tongue out and ready as you adjusted the panties so the worn part of the fabric would head straight for his tongue.
the panties were freshly wet, the scent invading adrian despite them being in his mouth. you tasted just as good as you smelled, now overtaking two of adrian's senses (four, if you counted the sounds you made as you ground on his lap and the grinding itself).
still grinding on him, he groaned into the piece of fabric stuffed in his mouth. he couldn't help but grind back up against you, humming when you'd overtake him and settle a rhythm of your own. and now it was even worse, now he could feel your bare cunt sliding up and down his dick as it laid flat on his lower abdomen. it was torture, and you wouldn't let up, wouldn't let him slip past your folds and into the source of the honey currently pressing against his tongue.
"wanna fuck me, adrian?" you whispered into his ear, nibbling lightly at the lobe.
he felt a shudder go through his whole body, body flexing as he tried to hold back from exploding.
"u-uh-huh."
tsk'ing, you shook your head, taking the fabric out of his mouth, "words, baby."
baby... fuck!
"yes- please. i wanna fuck you so bad. i've wanted to fuck you since we met! i had to sabotage other potential roommates to make sure my mom chose you cause- fuck, oh that feels really- hmmph! fuck!"
he stammered on, choking on his words when you gripped at him from between your bodies, using his tip to circle at your clit as he tried to speak. adrian couldn't think when you were doing with him as you wished, but, fuck, did he love that. he was eating right off the palm of your hand.
"let me- just the tip?" he bartered, "i'll take anything, just- hnng... let me fuck you, please. please? i'll make it so good for you, i'll- i'll make you come, i promise."
that was it. adrian's eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head, a high-pitched whine leaving his lips at the warmth enveloping him. your body pressed against his own, breasts warm against his chest and lips running up and down the length of his neck, tongue trailing right behind.
"fuck! you feel waaaay better than i imagined. how are you so tight, fuck!"
"you imagined this?"
he nodded, staring up at you from his fogged-up glasses, "only all the fucking time," he hiccupped, "i rubbed one off thinking about you every night- fucking- stole some of your perfume so my pillow would smell like you."
while he stammered, you ground your hips, bounced, swirled on top of him.
"tell me more," you encouraged between kisses, breath heavy against his.
"y-yeah? okay, i- fuck, i'm having performance anxiety. you feel so fucking- hnng... so fucking good," he buried his head in your neck, mouth open and drool leaving his lips, "had to convince my mom i wans't gonna be a fucking creep, but- fuck, can't help it. you keep wearing those slutty shorts and those slutty tops and i can't fucking think- oh, fuck, yesyesyesyes just like that!"
the plap plap plap of skin filled the room as adrian bit into your shoulder, loud moans muffled by your skin but effective all the same. crescent moons made their way to your waist, courtesy of his harsh grip on you. he fucked his hips against you, feet plopping on the bed for support, hammering against you, completely mindless to anything other than the pleasure.
"is it good? tell me it's good for you too- cause, fuck, it's so fuuuucking good, fuuuuck! need you to come first, pleasepleaseplease, just- need me to play with your clit? yeah, fuck, you just got sooo fucking tight, fuck, you want me so bad."
sloppily, his knuckle circled at your clit, puffy and begging for his attention. it made him gulp back even more blabbers, specially when you squeezed him so tight he felt his soul begin to leave his body. his eyes crossed, pants leaving his lips at how unbelievable you felt wrapped around him.
your sounds were overpowered by his, but he was close enough to feel the vibration of your moans, to make out those three syllables that made up his name.
finally disconnecting his face from your neck, he nosed at you, finding his way to your lips but leaving a small gap between. he couldn't help the flood of pride rushing through him when your lips tried chasing after his.
"oh, god, you fucking want me- fuck, you're so fucking sexy, you're going to break me, aren't you?"
"want to make you come," you breathed out directly into his lips, "make me come too."
nodding numbly, he pleaded for it, "please, yes. come. fucking come with me, let me- let me fill you up. i'll lick you clean like i promised, just- wanna creampie you so fucking bad."
embarrassingly enough, his orgasm came first. he lost his voice as he came, moaning your name loudly enough for neighbors to hear, going mute as he panted through its entirety. but the grind of his hips never halted, neither did the messy 8's he'd been drawing on your nub, bringing you right down with him as his own orgasm subsided.
you fell against him as you came, which gave him the perfect opportunity to trap you in his arms. he'd never known skin to skin contact to feel this nice, but he simply didn't want it to end.
"god, you're such a fucking freak," he cackled as he attempted to catch his breath, "i really should've known. peacemaker told me the booty shorts had to be on purpose."
"who's peacemaker?" you mumbled, barely lucid.
he chuckled, the movement of his chest making you rise up and down as you laid on him, still full of him.
"only my bff, duh! i'll introduce you guys someday. just- if he tries to fuck you, say no. i don't really wanna share you."
your confused 'huh?' went unheard as he suddenly pulled out, flipping you over with a practiced expertise that had you unscathed and on your back. you'd barely blinked by the time he'd crawled between your legs.
"now, if you'll excuse me, i have to clean up my mess."
Summary: Tomorrow, you will marry your husband-to-be. But tonight - it belongs to his father.
Word count: 6k
Warnings: DUB CON only due to nature of prima nocta, both parties enthusiastically consent, twist on prima nocta, unspecified age gap, loss of virginity, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex, unrealistic descriptions of first sexual experience, all manners of historical inaccuracies and linguistic anachronisms sorry not sorry, ignores the events of the movie so you can consider this an AU, Marcus is widowed and has a son, shall we call this bfd: Ancient Rome version lmao
Notes: I'm a bit rusty for sure, but I had the absolute best time writing this oneshot. It's a departure from my usual themes to say the least, but once this idea took hold of me it never let go. I know prima nocta is meant to be invoked on the wedding night, but I like the idea of it being the night before so I made it so 🤷🏻♀️ Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics as always.
He thought he had gotten away with it. Having lived more than fifty winters in the capital and outlasting eight emperors, he regrets to confess that he is still none the wiser.
It would have been such a clever manoeuvre. Palming off a generous but very much unwanted gift from the emperors, and marrying off his son in one fell swoop.
He should have been suspicious of their swift assent to his proposal. In his eagerness to bow out of their audience, it had been convenient to dismiss the flash of malice in their eyes.
And in the snake pits of Roman court, no misstep goes unexploited.
He is not proud that he is caught off guard by the emperor’s closest advisor who intercepts his walk home from the armoury, even less so of his ineloquent response to the missive handed to him.
‘What is this?’
‘Urgent word from the emperors, sir.’
Cold sweat prickles the back of his neck as he stares unseeingly at what is scrawled on the parchment.
‘I cannot,’ he blurts out, indignance rising fast and hot in his chest. ‘I will not.’
‘You think it wise to twice refuse the emperors’ generosity, general?’
General. To him, the culmination of a lifetime of service and sacrifice. To them, an instrument of bloodshed in war, a plaything in peacetime.
Desperate, he tries a different tact. ‘The right of the first night belongs to the emperors. I dare not commit sacrilege.’
‘It is not sacrilege if it is freely bequeathed upon you, general.’
There is no mistaking the warning lilt in the last word, and he has no answer.
‘The hour grows late. You had better not keep the bride waiting,’ says the advisor with an air of finality before retreating into the shadows.
Marcus shudders at the cold that settles into the empty space, fingers stained with ink from the now crumpled dispatch.
He remembers nothing of the remainder of his short journey to his quarters. As the front door swings open, he realises there is something in the night air that is out of place.
Sea salt.
You are here.
Would you be demure? Frightened? You are of royal lineage, a lady of the small but proud coastal kingdom strong-armed by Rome into an unequal treaty for its profitable trading posts, in return for the mercy of not being razed to its fertile grounds.
And now, you are lowered to marry a general’s son.
Worse, lowered to have your virginity taken by his father.
Candlelight spills from the crack underneath the door to his bedchamber. Marcus takes a deep breath, and pushes it open.
You hear him. The swish of fabric, the slide of leather soles on marble.
The general is here.
Your hand in marriage is part of the terms of the treaty, and the missive that sent for you announced your match as the widowed hero general. You had him cast on the wretched journey from your home as one of the domineering, brutish soldiers now garrisoned at your family’s kingdom - only to be told on your arrival that you will be marrying his son instead.
Relief at the news that your future husband would not be decades older than you is instantly snatched away by furtive whispers of prima nocta.
Your future father-in-law will take you first.
The humiliation is bitter on your tongue. You are Rome’s to marry off, hers to give to whomever she pleases -
But she won’t break you.
The door creaks. You stand tall and hold your ground.
He sweeps into the room with an air of well-worn authority, the cloak on his back dark as the shadows that nip at his heels.
The candles flicker when he sheds the heavy robes with a smooth sweep of his arm.
You stare, in a manner that would have had your lady-in-waiting tutting. But you are alone, very much so, with this man not ten paces from you.
General Marcus Acacius.
He is older, certainly old enough to have a son your age. But you had not imagined him so - strong, for the lack of a more imaginative word. His shoulders are broad under his wine red tunic, and you can see the muscles in his arms flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides. From where you stand, you can hardly see any silver in his dark curls.
Marcus unflinchingly assesses you right back.
No, you are decidedly not demure. Or frightened. Far from it.
You are defiant, even as you observe him with evident curiosity. Your head held high, a telltale sign of your noble breeding, mouth set in a stern line while your eyes burn bright with a proud fire.
Judging the silence has gone on long enough, he breaks it with a formal, ‘My lady.’
‘General,’ you answer steadily.
The door slams shut belatedly behind him, and you flinch - the first glimpse of weakness you concede.
Marcus breathes in, delivering his next sentence with as much composure as he can muster. ‘I expect you have been informed of the - formalities that we are to perform tonight.’
You grind your teeth so hard you are astonished that your jaw doesn’t crack.
Your virtue is just a formality.
Refusing to dignify his question with an answer, you nod once.
He watches you wordlessly, and you meet his gaze. You thought you would find something else there, not the regret that you see.
Turning away from you, he reaches for the amphora on the table.
‘Wine?’
‘Yes, please.’
The wine is drunk in silence and moderation. Him at his desk, you perched on the end of the bed.
As you sip, pacing yourself, you observe the general discreetly from across the small distance between you.
To say that you are disconcerted by his behaviour would be an understatement.
You assumed that he asked for this - for the perverse pursuit of deflowering his son’s bride-to-be while eschewing the unwanted responsibility of a wife.
Yet, watching him stare pensively into his goblet, lips pursed in a pout that is almost sullen, you are not so certain anymore.
When you bring your drink to your mouth to find it empty, you clear your throat. ‘I have to wake up early tomorrow morning - for the wedding.’
The general starts before collecting himself, drawing himself up to his full height as he sets down his cup with a heavy clunk. ‘Understandably, my lady.’
Then he moves, charting a course across the room, licking his thumb and index finger to douse the candles dotted around the space.
The thought comes to you unbidden - he has thick fingers. And big hands.
Your cheeks tingle with heat.
Soon the chamber is cloaked in darkness, save for the candles next to the bed, the warm light pooling in the most inviting manner on the soft surface despite your trepidation. You long to rest your aching feet.
He comes to a standstill on the other side of the bed, as if waiting for you to take the lead. You cannot decide whether you are thankful for him not imposing on you, or frustrated at him for not taking the lead in what is very much unfamiliar territory.
In the end, the desire to get off your feet wins out, and you gesture at the bed. ‘Shall we…?’
‘Certainly.’ He bends down, you assume to take off his sandals. You do the same, toeing off the soft leather slides the maids had you change into when they dressed you.
Once barefoot, you climb in with as much grace as you can summon, acutely aware that you have an audience. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you’re relieved that it is stuffed with feathers, luxuriously giving under your weight. Shifting primly, you find your back against the headboard, cushioned by equally soft pillows.
The general follows suit, the frame creaking as he eases onto the suddenly too small bed, strong shoulders brushing yours as he settles next to you.
You stare hard at the back of your hands, the only way to stop your gaze from wandering to the span of his fingers splayed wide on sturdy thighs, or lower to the bony ridge of his knees - gods, you must be unwell, since when have you been drawn to knees?
You are still questioning the state of your sanity when the general, who has been nothing but unperturbed and composed since he stepped into the room, stumbles over his words in a manner that is neither, as if he had held the question behind his teeth for too long.
‘Are you - are you absolutely certain - in no doubt - that you are… untouched?’
His question stings like salt in a festering wound. Indignant doesn’t even begin to describe the retort you spit at him. ‘Yes, I am. Are you?’
Peering at you sideways, his eyes widen at your outburst, and fear briefly flits across your heart that you have overstepped.
But then, he surprises you with a smile. ‘You bite, don’t you?’
You let your shoulders sag, too far gone to hold onto your facade.
‘It’s been a long day, sir,’ you admit. ‘To be frank, I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened.’
He pauses at your confession, as if weighing his options. Then he shifts, and says, ‘The reason I ask if you were untouched is because, if you were not - we could have just pretended we did this.’
You frown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I did not invoke prima nocta, it was imposed upon me. The emperors are displeased that I turned down the betrothal, this is their way of punishing me for my ungratefulness.’
Oh.
As much as you didn’t want this either, your pride suffers to hear him describe it as a punishment.
‘I know…’ you stumble, halting to steel yourself. ‘I know I am nothing like the women here in Rome. I spend too much time in the sun, and my hands are rough from working with horses -’
‘Why do you say that?’ he interrupts you.
You look away. ‘That is why you do not wish to marry me, is it not? And why you do not want this - why you do not want me.’
The general sits up, palms on the mattress to support his weight, the lines on his forehead deepening with a frown. ‘No, that is not the reason. You are young, you deserve a husband who can build a life with you in the years to come. Not a washed-up widower.’
The bitterness in his voice turns your head.
‘You’re not washed up, from what I hear.’ Somehow, you find the courage to add boldly, ‘Or from what I see.’
Letting your eyes trail unabashedly over his broad frame, a thrill chases through your blood when you notice his Adam’s apple bob with a tight swallow. He’s so close that you know you’re not imagining the heat seeping into your bones.
Silence stretches between you, charged with a consciousness that creeps in and spreads. Two souls from different worlds and stations put in a situation in which neither of you had a hand. This may not be how you imagined giving away your virtue - far from it - yet your stomach twists in anticipation.
You glance upwards, only to find him already watching you.
Something has shifted when you so bravely reached out and tipped the balance with your words. He can tell that you are not one for flippant flattery, and it takes him a moment to collect himself, harder said than done with the blood roaring in his ears.
When he speaks, it comes out in a much lower register than he intends, so much so it sounds like a secret.
‘You say you just want to get this over with. But I can - I can make it good for you. It doesn’t have to be something you want to forget.’
Your eyes widen and your lips part, and heat blooms almost uncomfortably in his chest. ‘You would do that for me?’
‘I will serve you in whatever way you ask of me tonight, my lady.’
Never have mere words, albeit delivered in such a delicious baritone, moved you so. You came in expecting to have your virtue stripped from you, the same way Rome callously stole you away. Where you thought humiliation and dishonour awaited, this man is offering deliverance and devotion - if only for one night.
Your throat tight with emotion, you nod in lieu of a spoken answer.
Marcus is deliberately slow in his movements, wanting you to feel safe in his presence. ‘How much do you know? So I know what I need to teach you.’
Despite yourself, shyness rears its head and you mumble, ‘I’ve - I’ve heard stories. I know what… happens… between a man and a woman in the bed chamber.’
He nods reassuringly, making you feel less of a fool for the juvenile answer you gave. ‘And has anyone touched you before?’
There’s no mistaking the lurch in your stomach as your heart hammers violently. ‘No. No one. Never.’
The protector in him stirs, summoned to duty, warring with the desire that seethes under his skin like the unholy flames of Vesuvius. He fears it is a quickly losing battle.
Reading the desire in your endearingly open face, Marcus reaches over you to settle one hand on your hip as he leans close, his breath warm on your cheek.
‘Have you ever kissed a man?’ he rasps.
You shake your head, eyes fixated on his mouth, framed by a tidy moustache. He is so close that you can see his beard is flecked with silver.
You swear the general is leaning into you, and every inch of you is on tenterhooks, enraptured by his proximity -
‘You should save it for your husband.’
You barely forestall the whine of protest that teeters on the tip of your tongue, pinching your lips together, but his lopsided smile tells you that he knows.
‘I can kiss you elsewhere though.’
‘Oh,’ you inhale shakily when he dips to mouth at the side of your neck, landing on your pulse point in a suckle. Your whole body arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheets, head spinning at all the sensations that are new to you - the burn of his stubble, the cool trail his lips leave behind -
Then the palm on your hip pulls you into him, sprawling you against the wide cage of his body, your breasts pressed against his broad chest. The dress they put you in is thin, and the fabric rubs against your pebbling nipples as his kisses travel daringly low.
‘Am I going too fast?’ he pauses, voice strained.
Breathlessly, you shake your head.
‘If you want me to stop, or wait, you say the word. Understood?’
‘Yes, general.’
Two words he hears daily from his men, and yet from your lips, they unleash a dangerously feral side of him.
More. Is the only coherent thought that remains.
Impatient hands reposition you so that you are astride him, and he groans when you slot flush in his lap. He watches your eyes widen at what you feel between your legs. Your dress rides up, and his blood rushes south at the bare expanse of your inner thighs on his skin.
‘I want to see you,’ he speaks plainly, palms squeezing the dip of your waist. ‘May I undress you? Please?’
All decorum flees you, and you might have chanted yes, yes, yes to his question.
Dropping your chin, you watch his thick fingers nimbly undo the knot holding the front of your dress together. The silk capitulates like water, tumbling down in delicate drapes around your waist, baring you to his heated gaze.
‘You are beautiful,’ he declares with a solemnity that steals your breath.
And it is easy to believe him, the way his dazed eyes trail over your breasts, before his hands follow. Calloused palms, which you are sure have held many a sword in triumph, now cup your tender flesh in reverence.
Your head lolls to the side as he teases you, but when he rolls his hips upwards, your eyes snap to the pained expression on his face. You’ve heard ladies in court whispering over wine about length and girth, but nothing could prepare you for the thrill of feeling a man’s undeniable desire for you.
Instinct guides you, moving your hips so that you are grinding against his length, seeking relief from what is building deep within you.
‘Do what feels good,’ the general murmurs encouragingly, palms on the small of your back to let you take control.
And just like that, you are thrown back to one summer’s day in your youth. You were bathing in a rock pool, under the spray of a waterfall in perfect solitude when you accidentally slipped forwards on the smooth stone surface. The unexpected sensation between your legs ripped through you like lightning on a clear day. And you chased that feeling, hips undulating until you shuddered and cried out. Knees trembling in the aftermath, you never dared to seek it out again, but neither did you forget.
And now, years later, you finally know what had transpired. Pleasure. And this time, under the general’s hooded gaze, you pursue it with single-minded determination.
Marcus wishes you knew how beautiful you are in this very moment. Breasts swaying in tandem while you rock back and forth on his clothed length, eyes glazed, every whimper from your swollen lips making him throb harder for you.
‘Good girl,’ he rasps, throat tight. ‘Take your pleasure. Take what you need.’
And when he sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail, tipping forward at an angle that unexpectedly takes you apart.
The waves that wash over you are more intense than you remember, and you are sure that has to do with the man holding your hips to his as you buck, and the warm swirl of his tongue against your breasts, sucking and nipping as you come down from your high.
‘That was not your first time,’ he states as a matter of fact when the white noise in your ears finally fades.
‘It happened once, a long time ago, and I didn’t understand then -’
‘And now you do.’
‘Yes, general.’
This time, he lets loose a moan at your words. ‘I can feel your wetness through your dress.’
Confused, you look down, and your cheeks burn when you spot the dark patch on the delicate fabric. ‘Oh, I -’
‘It’s natural,’ he assures you. ‘The wetness makes it easier for -’
It dawns on you when you feel his hardness twitch under you. Oh.
‘It - you feel -’ you stutter, struggling to comprehend how the girth of what you are sitting on could possibly fit inside you.
Taking your hand, Marcus presses a chaste kiss to your palm, eyes warm and open.
‘We will take it slow. I will use my fingers first, to prepare you for me,’ he explains patiently. ‘I promised I would make it good for you, did I not?’
‘You did.’
And you have complete faith in him.
Your knees knock into each other hopelessly when he slides you off his lap, and he has to bodily prop you up against the pillows. Sinking into the soft feathers, you watch him kneel between your parted legs, and you feel so safe even as he towers over you.
‘May I disrobe you?’
You bite your bottom lip, and nod.
Except it’s not a disrobing, it’s nothing near as civil as that. The general rips the rest of your dress clean down the middle, rendering you completely bare beneath him.
Marcus knows should be ashamed of his brash behaviour. But how could he when you react so viscerally, jaw slack as your chest heaves in unmitigated desire?
His gaze shamelessly trail over every curve and dimple, from the breasts he has tasted to where your knees are demurely closed, and knowing that he is the first - the only - to have laid eyes on you makes him impossibly hard.
It matters not that you are not his to keep. This will always be his.
‘You are exquisite,’ he professes, voice tight.
You duck your head, more shy of his compliments than being nude before him. ‘You don’t have to.’
Sliding a finger under your chin and tilting your head until you meet his gaze, he assures you, ‘I mean every word.’
Then he moves down the bed until he can rest his weight on his elbows, and you startle when rough palms glide over the outside of your thighs, stopping at your knees.
He pauses to give you time. ‘Are you certain you wish to continue?’
Your answer is a confident yes.
Then, as if opening the shell of Venus, he delicately pries your knees apart, and his breath hitches as you are revealed to him.
He is aware that he’s staring like an imbecile, words failing him. As the silence stretches on, you become self-conscious.
‘General,’ you demur, moving to cover yourself.
Shaking his head, he finally says, ‘Forgive me, but you are perfect.’
Then he looks up at you with such intensity that has you struggling to catch your breath, and without breaking eye contact, he bows his head -
And closes his lips over you there.
You are wholly unprepared - no one has ever gossiped about this in court. Your hips buck violently off the bed, but Marcus holds you down with reassuring hands, suckling on the pearl between your thighs with gentle laps of his tongue.
‘Oh, oh, oh,’ you stuttter, torn between watching the man wreak the most devastating pleasure on you and averting your gaze.
You’ve only ever known worship to be pious, and yet, this most vulgar adulation is the closest you’ve been to the gods.
His beautiful curls brush the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, catching the candle light as he moves, and the crook of his nose - so proud even with the scar on its bridge - draws patterns on your skin as he stakes his claim where no one has ever touched you.
You quickly realise that what you felt just now in the general’s lap was insignificant and thin in comparison. This pleasure is all-consuming, something divine that has you weak and trembling all over. All you hear are slick, wet sounds of tongues and lips, and your own whimpers between garbled groans.
Marcus feasts on you, unapologetically. Flattening his tongue, he tastes you in broad sweeps, moaning into your sweet cunt as you writhe above him, your needy mewls driving him to the edge of madness. You taste like fig - the earthiness of the purple peel, ripe sweetness of the pink flesh.
Then your hands wind into his hair, pulling him closer, ankles hooking over his shoulders. He groans harder, the sound rattling in his ribs as you soak his beard. Surrendering any last vestiges of shyness, you rock against his tongue, nails scratching his scalp as you whine louder into the night air.
Moans that will echo long after you’re gone.
The thought alone hardens his resolve to mark you unequivocally. You’re close, your pliant body quivering and breaths coming in shallow gasps now. He peers up at you, but your eyes are sealed shut and upturned at the gods, your breasts heaving.
Gently, he eases one finger inside you, and he grunts at how easily he slides in. You barely react, and so he pushes back in with two, coaxing a cry from you. Your cunt clenches as he gently thrusts his digits in and out, stretching your tight walls.
‘Oh gods. Oh gods,’ you pant violently.
You’re close, so close. He wants to warn you of what is to come, but it feels like sacrilege to tarnish the moment with words. When he feels you begin to quiver, he laves at your clit harder, burying his fingers inside you to the knuckle, until he feels you crest and break.
‘Gods, oh gods - Marcus!’
The cry of his name catches him off guard. He nearly loses control right there and then, as you ride out your high on his fingers, but by some miracle he holds out through gritted teeth. He devotes his attention to kissing his way up your body, from the slick inside of your thighs, to the side of your hip, making you jump when he sucks on your sensitive breasts.
You stare at his mouth with wild, dark eyes, and him at yours, but he vowed to leave your first kiss to your husband. Girding his self-restraint, he asks, ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes, Marcus.’
His cock twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He wants to hear you say it in all manners of ways - whisper it, gasp it, scream it. And by the cheekiness in your smile, it’s clear that you know what he’s thinking.
Your eyes drop to where his hardness is pressed against you. ‘Will you teach me how to please you, general?’
He swallows a groan, the animal in him rattling the bars of its cage. He replies diplomatically, ‘I will teach you how to teach your husband.’
In one smooth tug, he shucks off his tunic, then his loincloth, and he tries not to be self-conscious under your watchful gaze. Pulling you against him, skin on naked skin, he smears kisses along the side of your neck, smiling at your answering shudder. In return, you run your lips and scrape your teeth over his collarbone.
Taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm, he slides it all the way down his chest and wraps your fingers firmly around his throbbing cock, his pained moan in your ear.
Eyes wide, you marvel at the size of him in your grip. ‘You are so big.’
Marcus curses through clenched teeth. ‘You are an insolent girl.’
With a wicked glint in your eyes, you correct yourself, ‘You are so big, general.’
If he wasn’t so aroused, he would have chuckled at your cheek. Instead, he growls, ‘Such insubordination.’
Tilting your head to one side, you grin. ‘And how would you discipline me, sir?’
He lets the silence linger for a beat, allowing anticipation to build as one big hand splays over your ass, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear. ‘I would deny you my cock, my lady. Let your sweet cunt weep for me, empty, not knowing how good it would feel to have me deep inside you.’
You are unsure if you are more shocked at the explicitness of his words, or at the gush of wetness that has you pressing your thighs together. If you had to wager a guess, he is just as affected as you by the way his length pulses in your grasp.
Marcus smiles as he takes in the way your body reacts to him. ‘But how can I deny such a lovely, desperate creature such as yourself?’
A sob escapes you. ‘Please, Marcus - I’m yours to take.’
With that, all self-restraint abandons him, and his lips crash into yours. At the back of his mind, he knows you deserve a better first kiss, something gentle and sweet. But to your credit, you seem to take it in stride, winding your arms around his neck with a deep groan as he deepens the kiss. Opening up your mouth, he sweeps his tongue against yours, making sure you taste yourself and the pleasure that he had wrung from you.
When he reluctantly pulls back for air, you hum, ‘I thought you said I should save that for my husband.’
He all but snarls, ‘Damn your husband.’
The possessiveness in his tone sends you reeling, and his resolve wears even thinner when your cunt brushes against him, so wet and soft, begging for him.
‘I cannot wait any longer,’ he declares.
You bite your lip beseechingly. ‘Please, Marcus, I cannot either.’
He braces himself above you on strong arms, until all you can see is him, backlit by the soft candlelight. Beholding his beauty - the wisps of gray at his temples, the scar lining his cheekbone - your breath catches at the tenderness in his eyes as he stares down at you.
Holding the base of his cock, Marcus notches himself at the entrance of your cunt, trembling as he holds himself back.
‘I will go slow,’ he assures you. ‘If it hurts, you tell me to stop. Understood?’
Your mouth dry, you can only nod.
Holding your gaze, Marcus rolls his hips ever so slowly, jaw slack when he breaches you, inch by tortuous inch.
He is barely inside you and you already feel so unfathomably full.
‘Marcus,’ you gasp when it gets impossibly tight, nails digging into his broad shoulders.
He stops, and whispers encouragingly, ‘You are doing so well for me, taking me so beautifully. Just breathe.’
In between his patient, languid kisses, you unfurl, and Marcus gently pulls back, before pushing into you, deeper this time.
When you cry out, he shushes you, brushing the wet corners of your eyes with his lips. ‘Does it hurt?’
You shake your head. ‘No, it’s just - so much.’
‘I know, I can feel how tight you are gripping me,’ he mumbles into your neck, throbbing inside you while he holds himself still as you adjust. ‘Brave, sweet girl.’
When you find your voice again, you give him cheek. ‘I am a woman now, general.’
He smiles at you - a warm curl that crinkles the corners of his eyes endearingly - and claims your lips again. Feeling the tension seep out of your body, he thrusts shallowly so you can learn the movement of his hips. When he hits a spot that makes your jaw drop and your hips buck, he pulls all the way back, and drives himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.
And with that, you become a part of his soul, and his yours. His chest swells with the fiercest possessiveness and the greatest honour all at once, despite knowing that the circumstances that brought you together will inevitably tear you asunder at the break of dawn.
‘Marcus!’ you choke on a sob, throwing your head back, your walls clutching his cock in a merciless grip.
‘There she is,’ he grunts, mouth scraping the shell of your ear. ‘Say my name like that.’
And you do, over and over again, as he fucks into you. His pants land harshly in the crook of your neck with every thrust, hands greedily squeezing all the skin he can find - the curve of your ass, the dimple in your waist, your thigh to hitch it over his hip.
Looking down at you, eyes drunk and unfocused as you stare back at him, each squeeze of your wet cunt around him, every breath from your lips feels sacred.
He is seized by a sudden need to know. ‘How does it feel?’
Your eyes soften, and he shudders when you cup the side of his face to bring his nose to yours. ‘Divine.’
Marcus loses himself in you, in the wet squelch of your cunt around his length, the way your tightness takes every thrust. Words of praise that he doesn’t even hear tumble from his lips and onto every inch of skin he can reach as you cling to him, scraping your nails down his back and digging into the meat of his ass.
Pitching forward to press a hard kiss to you, he says, ‘I want you to fall apart for me again.’
‘Please, Marcus, please.’
Pushing himself up to his knees, still buried deep inside you, he spreads your thighs obscenely wide over his hips, and he moans at the sight of your cunt so full of him. With hooded eyes, he sucks on two of his thick fingers and brings them between your legs, carefully drawing circles on your clit, knowing that you are already sensitive from cumming twice for him before.
Your face twists in agony as he builds you towards another climax, patiently weaving the web of pleasure that wounds you tighter and tighter until your spine feels like it will snap in two. ‘Marcus, oh - don’t stop, don’t stop, oh gods -’
He bares his teeth as he feels you start to clench around him. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Cum on my cock, let me feel you, give it to me.’
Your peak crashes into you relentlessly, and as you are swept away, you can only wail and thrash, while Marcus curses and stutters unintelligibly above you as he spins out of control.
He had every intention to pull out, but it is as if some higher power is determined to foil his plans. With a guttural roar, his hips snap flush against yours, big palms grasp you so hard by the waist that you squeal, and he spills into you in hot gushes, once - twice - and again until he is spent.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
He doesn’t know if he said that aloud or if it was a trick of the mind. All he knows is that he eventually collapses bonelessly onto you, skin fused together with sweat and cum as your breaths become one in the crisp night air.
It is him who breaks the stillness, his old bones creaking when he stirs to relieve an ache in his back. His softened cock slides out of you, prompting you to whine in protest. He grunts when he looks down to see his cum dribble out of your cunt, leaving a pearly trail on the inside of your thighs.
When he meets your eyes, there is no awkwardness in the silence. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to spill my seed inside you. That was reckless.’
Your heart skips a beat at his admission, and you can’t hide the pride in your voice. ‘Do I make you reckless, general?’
He tries and fails to be stern in his answer, the tenderness with which he brushes his nose on your cheek giving him away. ‘I know better than to encourage your insolence with an answer.’
You are far from discouraged though, quite the opposite. Knowing you have this man - who commands armies of thousands - at your mercy is a siren’s call.
Peering at him from under your eyelashes, you curl one leg around his waist. ‘Do you want to be reckless again?’
He huffs, but a smile breaks through. ‘Have you ever been told that you are a cocktease?’
You hum teasingly. ‘I have never heard that word before, but I like it.’
‘You do?’ he breathes against your lips. ‘You like being my cocktease?’
‘Yours, general.’
Marcus is astounded when he feels himself harden again, and he moans as you press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. ‘What spell have you cast on this old man, my little cocktease?’
You grin, letting him ease you onto your back so he can settle between your thighs again. ‘The kind that lasts until dawn.’
Eventually, morning must break, sure as the moon turns and the sun rises. In the golden rays of day, you will wed his son in ironic, virginal white, showered in rose petals. He will look on from the side in his finest ceremonial robes of red, as you walk away from him and into your new life as someone else’s wife.
But in the velvety folds of this night and many more to come, safely ensconced in the deepest corners of his memories, in lands far away, in war and in peace, there he keeps you - where you are not.
More notes: Thank you for reading! As usual, comments/reblogs/asks would be very much appreciated 🥰 I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I loved writing it!
You're gonna pay me a nice sum. I'm thinking $30,000. So I can help my dad really understand that it is in our benefit to work with you. Then after time, you're gonna pay me more. Get him to come around to the fact that if he doesn't get in front of this thing, he's fucked. So you want me to pay you to have a conversation? No, I want you to pay me to be a good son. He might listen, he might not. You never know. But at least you won't have to fight him 'cause believe me, that is a fight you will not win.
LEWIS PULLMAN as Rhett Abbott
OUTER RANGE 2.07 — The End of Innocence
Fanfic writers suddenly turning to religion and leaving their blogs because suddenly they CANNOT interact with fanfiction and Fandom related work is genuinely terrifying and you cannot convince me otherwise 🙃
It’s not considered political violence to dehumanize people until they’re so ostracized by society that they take their own lives. It’s not considered political violence to make policy choices to intentionally kill people by depriving them of life saving healthcare.
It’s not considered political violence to round up people and put them in concentration camps. It’s not considered political violence to fund ethnic cleansing and genocide. Very interesting what’s considered political violence and deemed unacceptable.
It definitely isn't considered political violence to annihilate the only housing that people have and push them even further into the cycle of poverty and destitution. Or to host certain people on a podcast and talk about how trans people are evil.
Seizing vulnerable women and abusing them in detention camps? Killing people by ending their life saving medical treatments? Not giving people medications in detention centers?
camboy!kurt kunkle x reader (for the lovely @nozhdyved)
-
the amount of fame he got from posting videos of himself set up in the back seat of his car jerking off shocked the hell out of him. it was the exact kind of ego boost he needed. all the comments expressing how hot it was that he’d just drive around before picking a nice secluded spot, climbing in the back seat and whipping his cock out. getting off to the sound of coins chiming every time someone sent money in.
he usually did his rides alone, but today was different.
“hey guys, kurt from kurtsworld here. been so fucking horny all day.” he laughs into one of the many cameras he has rigged up in his car. “i’m actually picking someone up today.” the reveal had his viewers spamming the chat in a frenzy dying to know who it was, and if what they think was gonna happen is actually going to happen.
“this was actually pretty random. they just messaged me and asked to met up, and who am i to say no, right!”
kurt had the whole interaction planned out. he’d pick you up at the spot you both agreed on, he’d drive around making small talk, before the encounter turned into one of those taxi porn videos.
when his car stopped in front of you you took to the passengers seat shocking kurt seeing as he thought you’d sit in the back. you weren’t surprised by the amount of cameras in the car. you were an avid watcher of his content, and paid a lot of money for something more than a personal video.
a ride with him.
“so, where are we- whoa?!” your hand suddenly reached over to rest on his bulge catching kurt off guard.
“just keep driving.” you said, your the palm of your hand working circles over his cock that was straining in his jeans.
kurt’s mouth fell open in a silent moan before he mouthed to the chat. “holy shit”
you were buzzing on the inside but appeared completely stoic on the outside. at the first stop sign you took the opportunity to unzip his pants and pull his dick out. low money chimes started to go off. you brought your hand up to your mouth licking a strip on your palm before wrapping around kurt’s cock.
“o-oh shit.”
your grip was firm as you stroked your hand up and down stopping at the tip to squeeze the head of his dick. little beads of precum already dripping out.
“so wet.” you cooed, getting a slight whine in response. the livestream chat was loving it, they’ve never seen kurt in such a submissive way.
you turned your head, face still plain as you surveyed kurt’s body language. his chest heaving up and down, his eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting down into his bottom lip, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel tight as he tried to keep his composure enough to drive safely. your eyes dropped down to your where your hands were moving. the skin of his cock was flushed the same red color as his face.
“holy fuck, your hands feel amazing.” kurt moaned, his eyes slipping closed, causing the care to swerve about, before he snapped them back open remembering where he was. “you have to keep your eyes road, baby.” your soft voice did not match the rough strokes you giving him.
the car filled up with the slick sounds of your hands moving on his dick, and kurt’s strains moans and whines.
“w-were coming up on some traffic.” kurt said in kind of a panic, now sitting up straighter in his seat.
once the car stopped in the middle of two other cars your sped up your hand movements bringing your other hand over to tease your thumb on his slit.
“oh shit -just like that!- fuck, someone’s gonna see us.” kurt threw his head back against the headrest with a low groan.
“and look at you such a slut moaning so loud for them to hear.” you leaned over now whispering in his ear. “your windows aren’t even tinted. all they have to do is look over and seeing you falling apart in my hands.”
more chimes went off and the chat was spamming.
the red light turned green just as the passenger in car next to you started to look over. it took everything in kurt not to press on the gas fully.
you knew kurt was getting close. you’ve seen his streams enough times to know his tells.
“ a-ah. god, m’so close.” his cock twitched and throbbed in your hands as more precum dribbled out, his hips bucking up.
“send more hearts if you wanna see m-me cum guys.” he addressed his audience.
you started laying kisses on the side of his face while hands jerked fast up and down the other palming circles over his cock head.
“fuckfuckfuckfuck” kurt hastily parked the card under a random tree, his hands leaving the steering wheel to hold onto your wrist. “look into the camera when you cum.” you whispered in his ear. he obeyed the order, brown eyes making contact with the camera leans and the thousands of people behind it. the single money chime that went off was what pushed him to the edge.
“god, fuck!” his head dropped and low gruntled moan ripped out of him as thick ropes of white shot up out of his cock. landing on his slightly exposed belly reaching the the bottom of the steering wheel, and covering your hands.
you continued to slowly stoke him until he went soft in your hands. “good boy.” you said in a quiet voice, wiping your hands clean on his jeans. you left the car suddenly giving kurt no time to come down from what just happened or to even thank you.
kurt sat in silence for a good minute.
“holy shit, guys.” he said through a breathy laugh. “top ten experiences! and i see you guys enjoyed it just as much as i did.” kurt paused to read some of the comments, threading a hand through his hair. “that’s all for today, gonna need a minute to recover from that. i’ll see you guys tomorrow, peace.”
the minute he ended the live he was pulling up your contacts eager to meet up again.
I am 18+ and I am an 18+ blog ONLY ! Minors and ageless blogs who interact and/or follow will be blocked ! I will be doing a clean sweep of my following list in a little bit and I will be a lot more on top on checking who interacts with my work !
contains: nsfw, 18+ 3.9k wc, switch!kurt x switch!reader, onlyfans fem!reader, assplay, gunplay, dacryphilia, sort of dubcon elements i suppose?, stalkerish kurt, choking (minimal), degrading and dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, recording during sex, please consume carefully!
notes: of couuuuurse this is for my love my light bambi (boom boom boom) uhh i struggled writing this bc i didnt know if i was doing too much or not enough?? but i do hope its good.. i worked very hard. as alwayyys, listen to the song ive linked while reading this, OH and also this is a pt 2 to strict machine but it shouldn't be too confusing if u havent read that :)
taglist: @girliism, @imperishablereverie, @musingsofheaven, @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, @sweetheartfaist, @sweetestfaiszts, @hangels, @cowboyfaists, @jesuistrestriste (adding @pittsick and @222col, my kunkleheads) . click here to be added !
listen while you read
@girliism
my place at 6. bring the gun.
You’re watching your phone anxiously as you pace back and forth across your apartment, your quiet padding steps echoing in your ears. You had sent the message nearly three hours ago, along with your address. The two checkmarks that showed the recipient had seen the message popped up nearly a millisecond after you sent it, but there had been no response. When you check the time, it’s five minutes till six.
You weren’t really sure why you had messaged him in the first place– his profile stared back at you, taunting and cruel. KurtsWorld69. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, but you were sure he was still lurking around. Peering in through windows and climbing up the fire escape to watch you while you slept. Taking photos of you from outside your apartment when you least expected it, and mailing you the pictures with dried cum all over them. Commenting on your streams, spamming links to his Twitch account and promoting his Instagram. Fucking irritating– but for some reason, you didn’t block him. You just couldn’t.
After a while of his silent intrusion into your way of living, you’d bitten the bullet. Made your bed, set up a discreet camera in the corner, and sent Kurt your address. And now you’re just waiting, like a prisoner on death row awaiting their slaughter.
It’s two minutes till six when you break out of your reverie, and you peek past the curtains to check the parking lot in front of your apartment. There’s no new cars pulling up or already parked, and you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair. He’d better show up. It’s exactly 5:59 when flickering headlights turn into the parking lot, stopping in front of your apartment complex. You close the curtains and check your hair and makeup in your phone camera, hearing footsteps coming up the stairs. You tug down the hem of your top, making sure to leave just a sliver of underboob, just as three knocks sound on your door. Confident and loud, like he isn’t scared of getting caught. You check the time– 6 pm exactly.
You toss your hair back and open the door slowly. There he is. His hair definitely looked less greasy than last time, damp and scented with some sort of tropical shampoo. At least he was trying. His eyes seem to light up at the sight of you, and he leaned forward, as if about to kiss you–
You wrinkle your nose and dodge, opening the door wider. “Come on in,” you say, shutting the door quickly and locking it behind you. He’s taken his shoes off, shuffling around your apartment and taking note of the one door that’s left ajar, leading to your bedroom.
“I like your place,” he comments, acting like he hasn’t been peeking in every night, watching your every movement until you disappear behind closed doors.
You roll your eyes, leading him over to the bedroom. “Please. I’m not fucking stupid.”
“I never said you were,” he feigns innocence, willingly letting you sit him down on the bed. Good. He’s pliant, allowing you to control his body. He’s already hard in his jeans, and you brush over the straining denim lightly, smiling at the way his body stiffens up.
“You know I see you every night, right?” you ask rhetorically, towering over him with your hands on his shoulders. You know he knows. He wants to be caught, with the way he always leaves a window open or drops little notes around your place. Kurt only shrugs in response, a bashful smile on his face.
“Maybe I want you to see me,” he suggests, and you just scoff in response. He looks around the room, narrowing his eyes as he observes. “Where’s the camera? We’re– I mean, you invited me over to collab, right?”
You shake your head, leaning against the dresser. “Not yet. Think of this as a trial run. Y’know, like a chemistry reading,” you lie, watching as his face brightens and he nods eagerly.
“Oh! Okay, okay,” he bobbles his head, beaming. “Hey, what if we take, like, a before and after photo? Then you can tag me on your Instagram story or something, like, confirming our collab–”
Your hand shoots out to grip his shoulder, manicured nails digging into soft fabric. “This is not a fucking collab,” you snarl, watching his pretty brown eyes dilate. “Stop fucking calling it that. I don’t even follow your goddamn Instagram.”
His lips are parted in a silent shock, and he nods dazedly, body still stiff as you withdraw your hand from his shoulder. “...You should follow me,” he meeps out hesitantly, “I post, uh- vlogs, and stuff, it’s all really high quality..”
Kurt quiets down with one sharp look from you, your hands dragging down his neck gently. “Did you bring it?” you ask, a warning tone in your voice. He nods frantically and pulls it out from the waistband of his jeans, slowly sliding it across the bed instead of handing it to you.
You take it with shaking hands, feeling the cool metal press into your hot skin. It’s heavy, and you aren’t exactly sure how to hold it. “Is it loaded?”
Kurt seems to hesitate, before shaking his head slowly. You arch an eyebrow and he caves. “It is,” he says, and you set it down gingerly, like a ticking bomb in your hands.
Your hands reach down to his jeans, watching his face closely when his breathing begins to stutter. You unbutton them, slowly zipping down the fly and massaging him through the fabric. “You hard already?” you ask, knowing full well what the answer was, considering you were palming his cock through the thin layer of cotton.
He nods eagerly, watching with rapt attention as you squeeze his length, fabric darkening with pre-cum as his breathing grows more shallow. “Yeah– Yeah, I am– jus’ for you,” he pants, biting back his whimpers when you slowly pull down his boxers, letting his cock thwack against his stomach.
“What did you think was gonna happen when you showed up?” you ask him, stroking his length and watching it slick up with pre. “That I’d let you fuck me and give you a shoutout on my story?” You lean in close, licking up his neck and tasting his sweat, before leaving a sweet kiss under his ear. “You’re so fucking disgusting. As if I’d ever let you fuck me.” You pull away from his cock and stand up, walking to the side of the room and hearing him whimper.
“Wait, what are y–?” You whip back around at the sound of his trembling voice, the gun now tight in your grip from where you picked it up. It weighs heavy in your hand as you point it across the room at him, watching his face pale.
“Don’t move,” you say, both hands on the gun as you slowly approach him. The floorboards creak under each and every step, and the gun shakes in your hands. “Not. A fucking. Muscle.”
You crawl beside him on the bed with the gun pointed at his face, watching as he slowly lays down at your prompting. “I’m not gonna do anything to you,” he whispers, pupils blown out as he stares into the barrel of the gun. “I wasn’t going to. That wasn’t my pla–”
You shush him with a press of the cold metal to his temple, his eyes darting side to side at the feeling of it pressing into his skin. “On your stomach,” you order, voice hushed. He obeys in that slow, languid pace that seems to have taken over his body, a response to the fear. You tug down his boxers when he’s lying on his stomach with his face in the pillow, gripping a handful of his ass and digging your nails in. “Where’d you get this?” you ask, referring to the gun.
He exhales sharply, whimpering when you dig the gun harsher into his flesh. “From my friend,” he mewls out, before correcting himself. “Well– he’s not my friend, per se. I kinda killed him. With that gun. But he deserved it.” Kurt’s entire body is flushed red, which you can see when you gently peel his shirt off, tossing it aside. To see the man who’d been terrorizing you for the past few weeks down to this level was satisfying, making your core ache with need.
“How many people have you killed with this?” you ask, spreading his cheeks and laying a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his ass, prompting a quiet whimper from him as you keep massaging him.
“I-I dunno– like, m-maybe two or three? I don’t like to use guns th-that much,” he admits, hissing through his teeth when you press your thumb against the rim of his asshole, pressing ever-so-slightly past the ring of muscle. The gun is still in your other hand, pressed firmly to his temple, and you can feel his body shaking with your movements– or maybe just with fear.
You don’t grant him a response, slowly pulling the gun away from his head and sitting your weight down on the back of his legs. You’re slick with anticipation, soaking through your panties and making his calves sticky, the sensation making him shudder. Your hands splay across his back, nails gently brushing against the freckles that span across his skin. “I should have shot you by now,” you whisper, knowing damn well you have no clue how to shoot a gun.
He whimpers when he feels the cold revolver touch his skin, prodding at his ass. “But?” he asks, his voice wavering and pitching up as you press it in deeper, just barely past his rim.
You take note of the way he seems to clench– squeezing around the muzzle, his breathing becoming slow and labored. “But,” you choose to toy with him a bit, not pushing the gun in any further, “I’ve been thinking too much about you.” It’s spoken quietly like the confession of a sin, your voice hushed and delicate. Shards of stained glass that seem to pepper in Kurt’s skin, colors reflecting in the light from the way you speak so gently to him, while defiling him. “Constantly thinking about you,” you add on, drawing a delighted shudder from his body, limp beneath you.
You press the muzzle deeper into his ass, causing his hips to jerk a bit. You place a firm hand on his lower back, nails digging in. “I’m not done talking,” you snap, making him still. The metal of the revolver is heating up ever so slightly, and the plastic grip is slick with your sweat– a combination of anxiety and arousal. The muzzle goes in tantalizingly smooth, pushing past a practically non-existent barricade as you push it a few inches deeper. “I know you’ve been thinking about me too,” you whisper, beginning to slowly grind down onto his calves. “I mean, of course you have. That’s why you’ve been fucking stalking me. Perv.”
Kurt whines at that, and you take note of how his cock seems to twitch when you say that. “I wasn’t st-stalking you,” he stammers, trying to hopelessly defend himself, “I just- You’re s-so pretty, and I really wanted to post you on my story, I can’t- oh, God- please, please, you’re so gorgeous…”
You sharply push the revolver in until the top strap hits his skin, Kurt’s whole body jerking as his hips jump. “Fuck!” he yelps, arching his back and moaning into the pillow as the muzzle bumps against his prostate.
You sneer at his reaction, the slutty arch of his body as he grinds his neglected cock down onto the mattress, and you press the gun in further, just to pull a pathetic whimper from his lips. “You’re disgusting,” you spit at him, wrinkling your nose at how he whines in agreement. “Getting fucked by your own gun. And you like this shit, don’t you?” You thrust the revolver in, and he nods, choking on his own words. “Don’t you?”
“Ye-yeah, ffffuck, I do, I r-really do, shit-!” He’s gripping at the bedsheets like that could save him, mouth parted in a slack ‘O’ as you grind your sensitive clit onto his calf, watching with rapt attention at the way his body jerks and heaves as you fuck him harder.
“Yeah? Fuckin’ slut likes that I could just pull the trigger at any moment?” you taunt, leaning forward to grip one hand tightly around the back of his neck. Your pebbled nipples swoop over his skin under the thin fabric of your top, and he practically sobs, nodding as best as he can with you gripping his neck.
“I do, like it s’much, it’s so good, you’re so good, nngh–!” He’s clenching around the muzzle sporadically, trying to pull away from your grasp and the never-ending pistoning of the revolver in his ass. “Y’gonna make me cum, I’m gonna- gonna cum, fuck, please, I can’t- can’t hold it in–!” Kurt mewls as you ruthlessly thrust the gun past his rim over and over again, slamming into his prostate. Your cunt pulses with heat as you keep grinding on him, your panties completely ruined with how aroused you are at making Kurt fall apart.
“You’re such a pathetic fucking loser–” You have so much more to say, but he’s cumming untouched, choked whines punching out from his chest as he trembles in your grasp. Viscous fluid shoots out underneath him, matting his chest hair and sticking to the sheets. He’s gasping for air as you let go of his neck, whimpering pathetically as you slowly begin to pull the revolver out of him. “Stop fucking whining,” you snap, smacking his ass and prompting a sharp yelp of pain.
He’s still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm when you pull the gun out, shiny and slick. You place it to his head, sitting primly next to him while he’s looking absolutely wrecked. “You’re so pretty when you’re desperate,” you murmur quietly, tapping the muzzle against his browbone as your finger tightens around the trigger. “Like a fuckin’ mutt.” You slowly drag the muzzle lower and lower, pressing it against the seam of his lips.
“Open,” you order, and he obeys easily, plush lips wrapping around the muzzle and taking it into his mouth. His eyes gaze back up at you longingly as he sucks around the barrel, lashes fluttering and eyes damp as he struggles to take the whole length down his throat. “I could just kill you right fucking now,” you mumble, and his eyes seem to widen, either with fear or exhilaration.
“You couldn’t. You wouldn’t,” he objects, words muffled past the metal of the revolver. His teeth clack against it, eyes glinting. His orgasm seemed to follow with a newfound wave of confidence, and he bites down against the muzzle. “You don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
You glare down at him, pushing the weapon further past his lips and down his throat. “It’s easy, isn’t it?” you say tauntingly, drumming your fingers against the trigger guard. “Just press down, and bam.” The last word is hushed, hissed through your teeth. His hands travel up to squeeze your waist, pushing up your top to trace over your body. It’s surprisingly loving and gentle considering the situation the two of you are in.
Kurt’s calloused hands reach up to squeeze your breasts, tracing over your nipples teasingly as he moans around the gun. One hand pulls away from your soft body to lay across your hand that’s holding the gun, interlocking fingers gently. You pull the gun away from his lips, escaping his mouth with a quiet ‘pop!’.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His grip grows tighter around your hand, and in a fluid movement, he’s got you pinned facedown on the bed, one knee planted firmly on your back. Your heart rate is quickening as you struggle fruitlessly beneath him, one hand lifting you up by your neck to make eye contact with him. Kurt leans in close, a giddy grin on his face as he places the gun underneath your chin. A clicking mechanism can be heard in the tense silence.
“You had the safety on.”
Chills manifest their way down your spine at his words, the tap of the gun against your neck becoming all the more ominous. His cock is hardening again, pressing firm against your ass and lower back as he ruts against you. Your breathing grows shallow, unable to force words out. It’s like there’s a vice around your neck, ceasing your breathing. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“You’re scared,” he says coolly, rubbing his length against your slick-soaked panties, making you moan quietly at the friction. “There’s no need, baby.” Kurt’s hands knead into your ass, spreading your cheeks and spitting at your pulsing hole. “You know I’d never hurt you.”
He pauses, smiling down at the sight of you, trapped underneath him. The gun presses deeper into your neck, and you whimper as he tenses his fingers around the trigger. “But I will. Because I know you want me to.”
You scream as he suddenly pushes into you, the slick of your pussy making it easy for his cock to breach in, immediately thrusting into you and keeping you pinned down. His weight is fully spread onto your body as he plunges in and out of your syrupy cunt, the revolver pressed firmly under your chin.
“Stupid fucking bitch,” he snickers, tapping the muzzle against your parted lips as you moan. “You really thought you could take me? You just gave me a good fucking orgasm is all,” Kurt moans, reaching one hand down to rub at your clit. “Fuckin’ tight as hell. I didn’t expect that, considering you whore yourself out, huh? Thought you’d be all loose ‘n sloppy, but this–” he punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, groaning at the sensation of your gummy walls squeezing around his dick. “–fuck, this pussy’s fucking s-so tight ‘round me, baby, s’like you were built for me.”
You whimper– at his words, at the fear of having the gun so close to you, at how his cock drags deliciously in your cunt, and how his fingers expertly work your clit. “K-Kurt– please–”
He shushes you, knocking the muzzle of the gun against your head gently. “Sh sh shh, you don’t needa say a word, baby. Just let me– nngh, fuckin’ use this pussy,” Kurt grunts, one hand grabbing the flesh of your ass to propel into you faster. The bedframe knocks into the wall with every thrust, paint chipping off in flakes. “Y’feel like a big girl now, hm? Got to play with my gun and fuck me, now you think you’re on top of the world?” he crows out, laughing in a frenzied fashion. The air is sticky with the smell of sex and sweat, permeating the entire room. It’s obscene, but what’s more obscene are the moans that Kurt manages to push from your throat with each harsh pound he delivers.
“You looked so sexy holding my gun,” Kurt whispers in your ear as he fucks you, moaning as you tighten around his length. “So, so fuckin’ beautiful. My girl holdin’ my gun,” he groans, and you hate how your stomach tightens when he calls you his.
“I’m not- your fuckin’–haaaah– f-fuck, mmmmh!” Your jaw slackens as he keeps hitting your g-spot with the spongy head of his cock, hard and relentless as he pinches your clit.
“No?” he feigns innocence, and you can see his fingers tightening around the trigger ever so slightly, causing a shudder of fear to wrack your body. “Well, you’re going to be,” he laughs confidently, smacking your ass and jackhammering into you.
You aren’t sure when the tears began flowing– maybe when the gun was pressed against you, or perhaps they just started, but Kurt wipes them away from your cheek with his thumb, gentle and loving. He kisses your neck, biting at your earlobe and giggling. He’s acting like he’s found a new toy to play with, not threatening someone’s life while fucking them to the end of the earth.
“Awww, baby.” The gentle condescension of his voice paired with the brutal thrusts is enough to make the tears fall faster, and he kisses your cheek gently, moaning into your ear. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me,” he whispers, grinning at the weak keen it draws from you.
You jerk your head back as he flicks your clit, mewling. “Gonna– Kurt, Kurt, ‘m gonna cum, fuck–”
The muzzle of the revolver digs into your chin again, and a broken sob escapes your chest. “Ask for permission,” he hisses, and you nearly break down right then and there, the pressure of the gun against your heated skin and the sensation of his cock pounding you braindead being all too much.
“Please,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please lemme cum, hhnnnh, I wa-wanna cum on y’r cock, Kurt, lemme cum, please–!”
He groans at that, tossing the gun aside to grip your ass with both hands, pounding into you. “Yeah, bitch. Fuckin’ cum on my dick like the slut you are,” he growls, the roughness of his voice intertwining with the loud squeals and moans that are pulled out of you. Your walls clench around him as your orgasm crashes upon you, screaming so loud you swear your vocal cords burst. He keeps fucking into you, using you to ride out his orgasm as his load shoots inside you. The warmth seeps into your insides, leaving your mind foggy and slow as he pulls out, using the muzzle to push some of his leaking cum back into your fluttering pussy.
Kurt stands up to survey your limp body, nodding in approval at the cockdrunk look in your eyes. “Job well done, don’t you think?” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your neck gently, brushing your hair back.
Your mouth is still agape, and he leaves a sloppy kiss on your parted lips. “...You should go,” you manage to say as you catch your breath, thighs still twitching.
He smiles good-naturedly and gives your ass a little pat, scurrying around the room to pick up his strewn-about clothing, wiggling his fingers in a little wave when he’s ready to depart.
“Oh, and just so you know?” You look over at him, leaning against the doorframe with the gun still in his hand, tapping it against the wall gently. He winks at you, running a hand through his hair before he opens the door.
“It was unloaded the whole time.” With his final words, you’re left to stare at his retreating figure. The sound of your apartment door closing echoes through your brain as you lay back down on your back, shuddering.
Once you feel ready enough, you stand up on shaky legs with your stained sheets wrapped around you. Kneeling, you gather the hidden camera you had set up and stumble over to your computer, inserting the USB drive and waiting for the video to load onscreen. You’re still sticky between your thighs, and if you looked down, you were sure you’d see some of Kurt’s cum, trailing down your thighs and dripping onto the floor.
The video loads, and you’re quickly downloading it to your files, navigating to OnlyFans and uploading it to your page.
“Had some fun with props xx”
Your hands tremble as you tag his username, KurtsWorld69, and hit post.
Take What You Want - Remmick x F! Reader - SINNERS 2025
Remmick x F! Reader
Summary: He has a tendency to stray, but he always comes back to take what he wants.
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Reader is described using she/her pronouns and has a vagina. Dead Dove. Mentions of vaginal sex, unprotected sex with a vampire, dirty talk, established relationship, messy n wet, coercion, heavy degradation, name calling, lots of nicknames, rough play, scratching, some fear play, toying with death, turning into vampire, pain play, blood play in a way, feeding off a human, knife play in a way, humiliation, pain play, some slight dacryphilia, choking, Remmick is a warning himself, please let me know if I missed anything!
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: another one in a week ! ? Breadstick whats going on ? ! i . . . I honestly don't know what possessed me to write this . . . But I'm not sorry so uh heed the warning and enjoy if it's ur jam LMAO
"Come on sweet little pet, fuck yerself onto my cock... jus' like that..." he drawled, his grin looking akin to one of a beast as his eyes locked onto the way your pussy gripped his cock everytime it dragged out of you, glistening.
It was addicting... for both of you. For him it was the way your drooling cunt clenched around him made him see heaven on earth, the only way he would ever see the pearly gates. It made his hands rake over your bedsheets, leaving it shredded into strips of string and fabric, it made him drool, leaving fat globs of saliva to drip down his chin and onto your skin, and, most importantly, it made him cum... hard.
For you... it was everything.
"O-oh shit..." you heard your voice weakly whine, a mix of garbled and consistently pitch changing speech. It sounded nothing like you, unrecognizable to even your own damn self.
But recognizable to him.
He memorized the way you moaned, the way you cried, the way you arched your back and clenched your eyes, hissing with every thrust. He memorized the way you would buck your hips up, begging for him to go faster and harder when he would bruisingly grip your hips still, using the red mushroom tip of his cock to fuck into you, slowly and shallowly. It drove you insane, thrashing violently and begging like a sweet sinner at the feet of their God, and made him howl with laughter.
He loved it, truly. Loved everything about you and the way you reacted. You were his favorite little human pet, so loyal and always waiting for him to come after the sun had set and leave before it would rise again. You gave it to him every night, be asked, although he didn't really ask but rather took. And you were always so willing to give.
But he loved it most when you were desperate.
It had been months since he last saw you, straying farther and farther from the little town you called home, leaving you alone and wanting in the big house your folks left you to live in, tending to the ranch that surrounded your lonely little property. With no husband and no prospects to report of and no interest in getting any, you were borderline shunned by the town as an unmarried woman, which to them was seen as bad as a killer. It made it easy for him not to worry about having to kill the poor fucker that would dare to think he could slide up to your side and make his home in your his cunt.
"This my sweet cunt, yea baby? All mine? My home?" He slurred, drool running over his flushed bottom lip, making you groan and throw your head back into the pillows.
"Mmmm!" He chuckled, letting you jerk your hips up, erratically pushing yourself up and onto him some more, "You really like that one, huh?"
Your furious nods and choked breaths made him cackle, leaning forward over you with one hand sinking into the mattress beside your head. His other hand went to your thigh, nails sinking into your soft skin to yank it up and hook around his waist.
"Keep going then baby, show your dirty 'ol man how much you missed his cock..." he spat, eyes narrowed as they pin pointed every twitch of muscle on your face. He could tell you were close, betting that although you rubbed your hungry pussy over your hand in every room of the house, wailing out his name only to be greeted with silence while he was gone, the feeling of him finally stretching you out again was all too overwhelming for your body to handle.
"Please, please, please, please!" You murmured like a prayer, skin sticky and eyes screwed shut as you bucked wildly.
You didn't even notice that he had let go of your hip, sitting straight up on his knees, his own hips stilling as he watched you use him like a dildo, your legs still around his waist.
He let out a low whistle, barking out a laugh as you adjusted yourself onto your elbows for more leverage.
"Desperate little slut, ain't ya baby?" He cooed, giving one good thrust up just to listen to you cry out, tears in your eyes.
He raked one of his fingers from your sternum, down to your belly button, and then down even further, ghosting ever so slightly above your clit in a way that made you choke.
"Now hold on sweetheart," his hand shot out to grip your jaw, pinning your head back and effectively making your still as you gasped, "Don't need you choking just yet... the only choking you should be doing is when my hand is around that pretty throat of yours or when my cock is fucking itself in it."
His hands pried your mouth open, making you gasp out, taking greedy gulps of air, your own hands weakly clawing at his wrist. He then let go, letting you fall limp against the mattress with a couple taps to your cheek.
"Atta girl, breathe for me... always forget how fragile you are..."
You nodded, vision bleary and eyelids heavy as you laid there, feeling heavy and warm, the pleasure that was rolling in your belly slowly fading.
"Needa... need..." you gasped out, limp hands at your sides twitching.
"Need? Need what baby? Use your words, didn'cha learn a thing or two from your mama and daddy? Or you need me to do it for you..." he cooed, leaning over to look you straight in the eyes.
Your vision became clear for a brief second as you saw him, pupils blown wide and a crazed look in his eyes as he grinned a sharp, toothy smile.
"Come on sweetness... you wanna be good for me? Wanna be my sweet, special girl?" His hand traced the shell of your ear, brushing away the beads of sweat that formed around your temple.
Everything about you suddenly felt so heavy. The world around you seemed darker than usual, vision of him growing spotty and head swimming in pure heat.
"Rem..my?" You managed to croak out.
"What is it, my little pet?" He cooed, "You usually last longer than this..."
He soothed your whimpers and shakes by running his hands up and down your sides, shushing you sweetly as if trying to calm a crying kitten.
"Ne...ed..." you voice was so hoarse, hips barely being able to shift against him.
You felt your legs weaken, one of them falling off his hip and the other about to in suit when he gripped them hard, hiking you back up around his waist with nails digging and breaking the skin of your thighs, "No no no, babydoll, don't tell me your giving up now?"
He pouted, making you whine, "Not... not giving up..."
Your voice was airy as he grinned, "Don't tell me your done? You didn't even get to cream all over me... you gonna keep your man waiting? I spent ages missing you, thinking of this sweet honey cunt every night as I fucked my fist... I dreamt of sinking in to this little place I call home between your legs... and you can't even stay awake long enough for me? Thought you were a big tough girl, all on your own, working hard... you were so excited to have me back and this the 'welcome home' I get?"
Somehow, you were able to shift your hand up, moving in the air so sluggishly.
"Huh?"
Something slid on the mattress as you shifted, feeling as it fell toward the dip your body made in the matteess and pressed against you, cold, hard, and thin. You didn't didn't even register the wetness of the mattress beside your neck or the way the entire room smelled of metal, just that a cold blade laid besides you.
"Oh baby," Remmick kissed your cheek, murmuring against it, "It's just a tiny mark, it'll disappear like the others did... I was just so hungry... couldn't help how sweet you smell..."
You swallowed the taste of a thick, metallic, warmth, choking ever so slightly again.
"Don't tell me you can't take it this time?" You heard him say as your hand fell limp against the mattress.
His voice was getting farther and farther away as you laid there, suddenly feeling cold despite the way he pressed against you.
Your vision was entirely black by the time you heard him say, whispered and distant, "Well, i guess it was about time i made you mine for the rest of eternity..."
It was a matter of what felt like seconds when you blinked your eyes opened, vision clear as day. You glanced down, noting that your once white lace dress, the very one you spent ages working for coin to get in town just for him, was pulled back on and hiked to your thighs as you laid on the stained mattress, Remmick grinning as he knelt between your legs with a smile so wide that it looked like it hurt.
"My sweet girl..." he cooed, hands running up and down your thighs, pushing the hem of the stained fabric up a little higher each time, "How do you feel?"
You cleared your throat, glancing around at your room for a second as a pang of something made your belly clench.
"I feel..." you began to speak, voice clear and smooth as silk, "...hungry."
