๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ┈ᯓ★

i'm an adult ᯓ✧ self shipper writer & artist ᯓ✧ i follow from @sheepmellohi

[girlcowboy]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍 ── 18+ 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒

𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 ── l𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗇 characters & project hail mary 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 20𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍&𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 ── 𝗌𝗁𝖾/𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖾/𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 - 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌

𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗉𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄.

𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖻𝗈𝗑𝖽, 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌, kofi

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

[joepickett]

Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

[girlcowboy]

guys uhh i want 2 write something bc im sick in bed. any requests??? send em in pls....

[clumsyclifford]

questions for fic writers

a collection of questions i, as a writer, would love to be asked !!!

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

9. How do you find new fic to read?

10. How do you decide what to write?

11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

18. If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

19. If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve?

20. If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

22. Who is your favorite character in [insert fic] and why?

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write?

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

27. How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process.

28. Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

29. What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want!

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

31. What’s your ideal fic length to write?

32. What’s your ideal fic length to read?

33. If you write chaptered fics, what’s your ideal chapter length to write? Is it different from your ideal chapter length to read?

34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

35. What aspects of your writing are completely unlike your real life?

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful?

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

43. If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written?

44. If you take/write prompts: do you prefer dialogue or scenario/narrative prompts?

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

[abbottsdarling]

Sweet Little Omega

Pairing: Alpha!Miles Miller x Omega!Reader

Summary: All Miles can think of in his rut is to be owned and knotted by you, his precious "alpha".

Warnings: SMUT, ABO dynamics, subby!Miles, unprotected p in v, knotting, hyperspermia, bondage, nipple play, Miles and Reader are mated, light aftercare, light mention of Miles's past, i got sappy at the end, no plot at all

Word Count: 1.1k

Note: My last request from my celebration!!! Woohoo I'm finally done with it! RIP to the one Jordan request, I'm sorry anon i tried but had no inspiration for that one. Based on this request here!

Masterlists

🐂Part of my 500 Follower Celebration🐂

Miles lies underneath you, muscles straining against the ropes you used to tie his wrists and ankles to the bed just moments before his rut hit him at full force. Pale legs try to kick out of instinct, arms struggling as he tries to reach for you, to hold and embrace your body as you sit in his lap, pussy stuffed full of his cock. You were nice this morning, only teasing him for a little when you smelled the stench of an alpha in rut before you sank completely down onto him, but that relief Miles was gone when you wouldn’t “knot” him.

The red rope you used to tie him with is soft on his skin, but still firm enough that it left temporary indentations. A remembrance of your night together that he’ll be able to look on and admire once the haze of the rut finally wore off. Marks that used to make him shudder and his anxiety to spike now leave him blushing as he remembered what pleasure caused those beautiful shades of pink and red all over his pale, delicate skin.

It took a while for Miles to be comfortable with being tied like this for both of your gratification. But he soon found enjoyment in being able to give himself to you completely and you to him. You already had all his trust as it is, accepting his taboo of being called an omega during his rut and loving him despite all the crimes and mistakes he made in the past. He was able to surrender to you, knowing all it took was one word, and he’d be free. You made sure he knew he was always in control, even if the rope said otherwise.

“Please, please alpha!” Miles cries, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as you bounce on his lap. You’re reverent in your speed, the bedframe banging against the wall with every bounce, taking and taking from the alpha who filled you so well, until he was reduced to nothing a blubbering moaning mess, begging for your knot.

“What do you need alpha to do, my sweet little omega?” Miles bites back a whimper, the vein in his neck pulsing as he strains and fights against the restraints. You chuckle, clamping down harder around his cock, “Come on baby, words. Or else you're not getting this knot anytime soon.”

A choked sob leaves him, “N-need your knot! Please, please alpha! Need you to knot me! Need it so bad!”

Your clit twitches at how pretty he sounds as he begs for you. Most alphas are dominating, borderline overbearing during their ruts, taking whatever they needed from their mates. Miles was the opposite, putty in your hands as he took whatever you allowed.

Miles’s face scrunches up in agony as you continue to clench around him. It takes all of the self-control he has to not knot you right then and there. Just when he thinks he’s not going to cum before your say so, your fingers glide up along his stomach before circling his chest. His heart skips a beat, breath shaking at your devilish grin before you bend forward, take his nipple between your teeth, and tug.

Miles’s reaction is instant. Back arching off the bed as you knock the air out of his lungs. You swirl his hardened nub with your tongue, the fire in your belly burning at all the broken, beautiful cries that left his wet, trembling lips, “Please, alpha! I can’t hold it anymore, please – I need – please -”

You let go of his swollen nub with a wet pop, smirking when you see how far gone he is. You leer over him, licking your lips like an animal about to devour its meal as you eye the mating bond on his neck. The one you'd given each other after his near kiss with death, when you finally decided there was nothing in this world that you wanted more than to be each other's mates for life. 

A desperate mewl leaves him when your nose bumps against it, your breath hot against his ear as you growl, “Cum. Cum for your alpha.” Before you bite down on his mating mark.

A broken, animalistic cry leaves him as he jerks up into you, his knot catching onto your pussy, sealing you together while he fills you to the brim with his seed. You gasp, seeing white as his cock pumps his spent into you. When you’ve overworked and overstimulated him for as long and as cruelly as you have tonight, it leaves Miles producing so much cum, it leaves you feeling bloated and heavy.

You slowly rock your hips forward and back, biting back a groan when you feel his cock twitch inside you, another spurt of cum trickling in. Miles whimpers, eyes scrunching closed as you milk him dry, “Alpha! Alpha, please, it’s too much…”

Your hips come to halt, your hand coming up to caressing his tear-stained cheeks, “Sorry baby, got carried away.”

He accepts your apology with a nod, panting as he nuzzles against your hand. Your thumb wipes away any remaining tears from his reddened cheeks. Miles looks so beautiful like this. Hair messy, eyes wet, lips swollen, his entire frame trembling as he comes down from an intense orgasm. He’s so ethereal, an alpha gifted with the beauty omegas would die for, and he’s all yours.

Miles whines for your attention when you space out, the bedframe groaning as he jerks his hand towards you “Alpha, alpha hands. My hands, the rope…”

“I got you baby, don’t worry.”

The moment you untie him, shaking arms wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer to Miles’s chest. The rapid beating of his heart echoes in your ears, but with every light kiss you press against his chest, the steadier it gets.

“Such a good omega, taking my knot so well,” Miles relishes in your praises, chirping and peppering the top of your head in affectionate kisses.

Most of your time attached to each other is spent lazily making out with the alpha below you, combing your fingers through his hair and giggling as you share this quiet, intimate moment of post-sex bliss. Checking in on him, kissing the red indents left on his skin from the rope, and nuzzling the mating mark that connected you two for life.

Once his knot deflates, you’ll be able to convince him to let you go. It’ll take some more reassurance that you’ll be gone for less than five minutes. Miles is always extra clingy during his rut, his instincts screaming at him to keep you close and full of him, but you need to take advantage of these semi lucid moments when you can or else you’d never get some water and food in your mate.

Miles still has another day or two of rut left in him but keeping him hydrated and nourished was a duty you took seriously. But for now, there’s nowhere for you to go when you’re connected like this, but neither of you would want to be anywhere else anyway.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love ya!

Please do not copy or repost. Love and thank you all!

Tagging: @fandomxo @musicislove3389

[rhettroblues]

You can't hold it in all alone. No one can. We have to let it out. We have to spend time together. And even if it doesn't make the emptiness go away, I promise you it will feel lighter. THUNDERBOLTS* (2025) — dir. Jake Schreier

[lewmagoo]

am i allowed to ban the word “parasocial” from being used ever again? one of the most overused words i’ve ever seen and it’s hardly ever used in the correct context 😭

[joepickett]

The Starling Girl (2023)

[girlcowboy]

do we think ben mears has a fat ass or what

[girlcowboy]

Bob Reynolds/Reader

implied reader/walker/bob. dead dove, do not eat, non-con, impregnation, premature ejaculation

It's no use.

Bob stares after you with dark, heady eyes as you walk away. It's not a particularly sensual walk, not suggestive in the slightest, but his pants barely take their time tightening in the groin. He fists the fabric of his dark blue sweatpants until his knuckles turn white, releasing slowly to feel the blood rush back into his fingers.

Mouth, dry.

It's fresh in his mind, that image of you and Walker. Walker likes you, in that childish way. Walker like likes you, playground style- some sort of school boy crush.

The saliva Bob swallows grates against the dry muscle of his esophagus.

Walker likes you, but Bob wants you.

It kills him. He stays up late most nights, until the early hours of the morning when that blue hour light comes peering through the giant glass windows of formerly-Stark Tower. Most nights, he jerks himself off until the pull of his foreskin is raw and his fingers have cramped. He's always been one of those guys that comes way too much- excessively- and almost every night he finds himself soaked in his own sweat and fluids.

He wants it to be you. He wants it leaking from your red, raw hole, spilled over your soft skin, soaked into your hair. Bob's a fucking pervert and he hates himself, but he wants you so, so bad.

Walker's stupid crush churns something awful and dark in Bob's chest. It punches past his ribcage and grabs hold of his insides, twisting and pulling.

It all comes to a head late one night.

The entire tower is asleep. Yelena sleeps in the living room most nights- too paranoid, too scared for everyone else residing in the tower to let herself burrow away into her designated room to sleep soundly at night. She keeps guard like a loyal dog in the main room.

Bob has to sneak past her once he leaves his room, which isn't difficult now that there's shadows creeping at the edges of his silhouette, feeding off the thoughts- the idea- in his brain.

It's too easy. He almost feels guilty.

Your door is unlocked. It's unlocked. Tears prick at his eyes, something hot spiking through his veins. It's so fucking easy and he almost wants to blame it on you.

You're a cute sleeper. There's a bit of drool on the corner of your mouth, your pillowcase a bit wet with a little dark spot. The door shuts silently behind him and he activates the lock.

The Void is waking up now, a curious feeling at the back of Bob's mind. It wants a part of what comes next, but Bob is determined to keep a firm reign on it. He wants to be here for this. He wants to be present.

This is happening, and it's going to be him.

You're a light sleeper, they all are, which is why he put that powder into your drink tonight. He makes dinner most nights, so there was no suspicion in your eyes when he gives you your drink. You thank him with bright eyes and a charming smile, before turning away from him.

Getting the powder wasn't hard. He knew a lot of people in New York before all of this.

You don't even stir as Bob climbs into your bed. The mattress gives way under his knees, the softest memory foam that they blackmailed out of Valentina.

The thick blanket slowly gets pulled off, anxiety burning through his veins. You're not waking up, he knows it, but there's still that instinct at the back of his mind warning him to stop.

He won't stop. He's too far now to stop.

You're wearing the littlest sleep shorts he's ever seen in his life, thighs thick and plump, fabric digging into skin. The man can't help it; he reaches out and grabs a handful of your thigh, squeezing hard. When his hand releases your skin, red blooms in it's wake.

Bob's dick throbs.

He palms himself slowly, reaching out again to grip and grab at your thigh, kneading it like dough. His hand strokes over the length of his cock trapped within the confines of his sweatpants. It's a delicious feeling, sparks shooting up his spine. He groans lowly.

"What are you dreaming about?" He whispers, "So, so pretty. Is it Walker? Do you wish he was grabbing you like this? Do you think he would do this to you?"

Maybe he would. Walker is a supremely messed up guy. Maybe he would've liked in on this, on having access to your unconscious body.

Bob fishes his cock from his sweatpants, gripping his length hard and dragging his fist down over the head. The foreskin is pulled back and he hisses through his teeth in pleasure.

Your little sleep shorts are removed easily. Nothing is hard for him now; he's on top of the world. You're on your stomach, cheek pressed into your pillow. Grabbing your ass, he spreads you open, thumb sliding between your lips to pry open your pretty pussy.

You're pink. You're so, so fucking pink. There's a bit of moisture there, your body enjoying his fondling a little too much, even unconsciously. He shifts, swinging himself over your legs and settling on your thighs.

Swiping the wet head of his cock between your lips, once, twice, he lines up with your hole.

"Are you dreaming of Walker?" He whispers again before shoving his cock in.

It's not like a fairytale or some cracked out erotic novel. The truth is you're so fucking wet, and so, so tight gripping his cock, that he crumples over your prone form in an effort not to ejaculate immediately inside of you.

No condom, his mind supplies him through the haze of heat, heat, heat.

"No condom," Bob moans miserably as he instantly cums inside of you at just the thought. "Fuck, fuck, fffff... oh, my God. Fuck!, yes, yes. Please get pregnant. Please, please, please. You'll- You're gonna look so fucking good. You're gonna be- They're all gonna know and-"

You won't even realize what happened. Your period won't come and you'll be puzzled but you'll brush it off. Maybe you'll dismiss the weight gain, the mood swings, the cravings, all until it's too late and you're forced to carry his child to term.

"Fuck," He weeps. Joy and guilt and pleasure ebbing into pain as he throbs and releases inside of you, spilling hot ropes of thick, white cum into your wet heat. "Fuck Walker. You're mine, you're mine. You have to be mine now."

It's a bit later when he pulls out of your tight heat, fluids smeared across your thighs and pulsing out of your cunt in droves. Bob scoops it onto his fingers and shoves it back into you, rubbing it harshly into your cervix.

Bob tucks you back in, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Next time, I'll invite Walker," He promises.

[girlcowboy]

wait are me and leah posting smut at the same time LMAO

[girlcowboy]

Bob Reynolds/Reader

implied reader/walker/bob. dead dove, do not eat, non-con, impregnation, premature ejaculation

It's no use.

Bob stares after you with dark, heady eyes as you walk away. It's not a particularly sensual walk, not suggestive in the slightest, but his pants barely take their time tightening in the groin. He fists the fabric of his dark blue sweatpants until his knuckles turn white, releasing slowly to feel the blood rush back into his fingers.

Mouth, dry.

It's fresh in his mind, that image of you and Walker. Walker likes you, in that childish way. Walker like likes you, playground style- some sort of school boy crush.

The saliva Bob swallows grates against the dry muscle of his esophagus.

Walker likes you, but Bob wants you.

It kills him. He stays up late most nights, until the early hours of the morning when that blue hour light comes peering through the giant glass windows of formerly-Stark Tower. Most nights, he jerks himself off until the pull of his foreskin is raw and his fingers have cramped. He's always been one of those guys that comes way too much- excessively- and almost every night he finds himself soaked in his own sweat and fluids.

He wants it to be you. He wants it leaking from your red, raw hole, spilled over your soft skin, soaked into your hair. Bob's a fucking pervert and he hates himself, but he wants you so, so bad.

Walker's stupid crush churns something awful and dark in Bob's chest. It punches past his ribcage and grabs hold of his insides, twisting and pulling.

It all comes to a head late one night.

The entire tower is asleep. Yelena sleeps in the living room most nights- too paranoid, too scared for everyone else residing in the tower to let herself burrow away into her designated room to sleep soundly at night. She keeps guard like a loyal dog in the main room.

Bob has to sneak past her once he leaves his room, which isn't difficult now that there's shadows creeping at the edges of his silhouette, feeding off the thoughts- the idea- in his brain.

It's too easy. He almost feels guilty.

Your door is unlocked. It's unlocked. Tears prick at his eyes, something hot spiking through his veins. It's so fucking easy and he almost wants to blame it on you.

You're a cute sleeper. There's a bit of drool on the corner of your mouth, your pillowcase a bit wet with a little dark spot. The door shuts silently behind him and he activates the lock.

The Void is waking up now, a curious feeling at the back of Bob's mind. It wants a part of what comes next, but Bob is determined to keep a firm reign on it. He wants to be here for this. He wants to be present.

This is happening, and it's going to be him.

You're a light sleeper, they all are, which is why he put that powder into your drink tonight. He makes dinner most nights, so there was no suspicion in your eyes when he gives you your drink. You thank him with bright eyes and a charming smile, before turning away from him.

Getting the powder wasn't hard. He knew a lot of people in New York before all of this.

You don't even stir as Bob climbs into your bed. The mattress gives way under his knees, the softest memory foam that they blackmailed out of Valentina.

The thick blanket slowly gets pulled off, anxiety burning through his veins. You're not waking up, he knows it, but there's still that instinct at the back of his mind warning him to stop.

He won't stop. He's too far now to stop.

You're wearing the littlest sleep shorts he's ever seen in his life, thighs thick and plump, fabric digging into skin. The man can't help it; he reaches out and grabs a handful of your thigh, squeezing hard. When his hand releases your skin, red blooms in it's wake.

Bob's dick throbs.

He palms himself slowly, reaching out again to grip and grab at your thigh, kneading it like dough. His hand strokes over the length of his cock trapped within the confines of his sweatpants. It's a delicious feeling, sparks shooting up his spine. He groans lowly.

"What are you dreaming about?" He whispers, "So, so pretty. Is it Walker? Do you wish he was grabbing you like this? Do you think he would do this to you?"

Maybe he would. Walker is a supremely messed up guy. Maybe he would've liked in on this, on having access to your unconscious body.

Bob fishes his cock from his sweatpants, gripping his length hard and dragging his fist down over the head. The foreskin is pulled back and he hisses through his teeth in pleasure.

Your little sleep shorts are removed easily. Nothing is hard for him now; he's on top of the world. You're on your stomach, cheek pressed into your pillow. Grabbing your ass, he spreads you open, thumb sliding between your lips to pry open your pretty pussy.

You're pink. You're so, so fucking pink. There's a bit of moisture there, your body enjoying his fondling a little too much, even unconsciously. He shifts, swinging himself over your legs and settling on your thighs.

Swiping the wet head of his cock between your lips, once, twice, he lines up with your hole.

"Are you dreaming of Walker?" He whispers again before shoving his cock in.

It's not like a fairytale or some cracked out erotic novel. The truth is you're so fucking wet, and so, so tight gripping his cock, that he crumples over your prone form in an effort not to ejaculate immediately inside of you.

No condom, his mind supplies him through the haze of heat, heat, heat.

"No condom," Bob moans miserably as he instantly cums inside of you at just the thought. "Fuck, fuck, fffff... oh, my God. Fuck!, yes, yes. Please get pregnant. Please, please, please. You'll- You're gonna look so fucking good. You're gonna be- They're all gonna know and-"

You won't even realize what happened. Your period won't come and you'll be puzzled but you'll brush it off. Maybe you'll dismiss the weight gain, the mood swings, the cravings, all until it's too late and you're forced to carry his child to term.

"Fuck," He weeps. Joy and guilt and pleasure ebbing into pain as he throbs and releases inside of you, spilling hot ropes of thick, white cum into your wet heat. "Fuck Walker. You're mine, you're mine. You have to be mine now."

It's a bit later when he pulls out of your tight heat, fluids smeared across your thighs and pulsing out of your cunt in droves. Bob scoops it onto his fingers and shoves it back into you, rubbing it harshly into your cervix.

Bob tucks you back in, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Next time, I'll invite Walker," He promises.

[planet-dusk]

⋆.˚ 75 smut prompts ⊹₊⋆

dialogue prompts/sentence starters for (dark) smut writers. feel free to use these; credit not needed but appreciated! minors dni. tw for dark content (non/dubcon, cnc, stepcest and so on)

"It's too much? No, it's perfect."

"You think I'd let you get away twice?"

"Smile for the camera, baby."

"Do you wish it was [name] touching you instead?"

"You wouldn't be this wet/hard if you didn't want this."

"You can cum if I get to, how does that sound? It's only fair."

"This is wrong, you shouldn't be letting me do this."

"Look what you do to me."

"Get on your knees, baby. It's the least you could do after everything I've done for you."

"Just the tip, I promise."

"I haven't even started yet."

"I need this. Let me have this."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"This is all you're good for."

"Let me give you something to touch yourself to when I'm gone."

"Show them what I taught you."

"You think I wanted this?"

"If you don't stop squirming I'll have to tie you up."

"What should I do with you first?"

"You'll get it when I've decided you've earned it."

"It's supposed to hurt."

"I hate to do this, but you're giving me no choice."

"I'm sorry. You really don't deserve this."

"Let's give them a show."

"Beg for it."

"If we shouldn't be doing this... why does it feel so good?"

"I'll make it fit."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I always know what's best for you, don't I?"

"It feels so much better than I imagined."

"What happened? You were begging for this five minutes ago."

"Shh. Go back to sleep."

"I'll be good, please..."

"You're awfully wet for someone who keeps complaining."

"Did I say you could stop?"

"Let them use you, baby. Show them what a good toy you are."

"Stop lying (to yourself)."

"Don't you want to feel good? You know you want to."

"I knew you'd be a good girl for me and take it... you got so messy on my fingers, I just had to do it. Doesn't my cock feel so much better?"

"I could touch you right now and no one would even notice."

"Did you miss me?"

"Baby, I'm sorry... I just couldn't wait."

"If I don't do this, someone else will."

"You're so pretty when you cry."

"Don't be silly. Of course you want that."

"You're such a slut for making me enjoy this."

"If you actually loved me you'd have done it without me having to ask first."

"Come on baby, be good for him. Open your mouth."

"If you want me to stop, then look me in the eye and lie convincingly."

"You'll take it because I said so."

"It's for your own good, doll. Don't be so ungrateful."

"Does he/she fuck you like this?"

"You don't remember last time? Here, let me show you."

"This is all your fault."

"Do you beg your girl/boyfriend for it like this?"

"We're going to have so much fun."

"Is this turning you on? That's disgusting."

"Sweetheart... you trust daddy more than you trust yourself. Don't you?"

"Apologize for making me do this to you."

"I promise I'll pull out." + "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself." + "It won't make a difference now, just one more, yeah?"

"You're so fucked up for loving this."

"I'm not pushing you. I'm just removing the excuses."

"Put it back in."

"Even if they could hear you, no one would care."

"It'll feel better soon."

"Stop touching you? You don't really want that."

"Let them hear us. I want them to know you belong to me."

"There's something seriously wrong with you."

"See? I knew you wanted this."

"If you really loved me you'd let me do anything."

"It's kind of fucked up how wet you get when you pretend you don't want it."

"Aww, it's too big? Better get used to it then."

"You can only get off when I hurt you. It's pathetic."

"What would your girl/boyfriend think if they could see you like this?"

"You really thought I'd stop if you begged me to? Cute."

"I'll make you mine forever."

[mynameismckenziemae]

…here’s an attempt to get back to writing.

[girlcowboy]

RHETT ANYTHING PLEASE!!! RHETT ARMPIT RHETT AND PREACHER’S DAUGHTER RHETT ANYTHING (that’s my request)

Sure! Take THIS!!

“You think you smart?” Rhett grapples you, hands bruising into your upper arms as he hauls you into the house. The screen door slams behind you, followed by the heavy solid oak inside door, blocking out the humid night air. “You think you fuckin’ smart, huh?”

You messed up. You know you messed up. But- “Rhett,”

“You keep your mouth shut!” He shouts, shoving you down onto the couch. He stands over you, snatching the hat off his head and tossing it onto the coffee table. “You got any idea what coulda happened to you tonight? Do you?”

His accent is nice and thick when he’s worked up like this. 

“Rhett,” You say again, softer.

“You ain’t got no idea.” Rhett seethes. “No clue. You wanted your fun, riling me up after a ride, haha. You cannot walk up into the bar lookin’ like- like this. You brat.”

In your defense, it’s an undeniably good outfit. The shortest black shorts you could possibly find and a low cut blouse to match with a little bow on the front. The white lace of your panties hovers just above the waistband of your shorts. There’s worn cowboy boots on your feet, stretching up to your calves. 

You’re hot. And that’s Rhett’s issue.

“Had everyone lookin’ at you,” Rhett says quietly, gazing down at you with dark eyes. “Thinkin’ about you. God knows what.”

You try, “I’m yours.”

And that does it. Rhett’s on you in seconds, shoving heavy, calloused, hot hands under blouse and up your sides over your ribs, yanking your bra down your stomach. His mouth is on yours, on your cheek, your neck, down to the too-much-skin showing of your breasts. You’re plush now. Chubby, even, soft around the edges. Rhett has been feeding you too good. 

Rhett’s on your thighs. Thick and soft. He’s hard in his stupid starched jeans, tenting the fabric in harsh shadows.

“You are mine,” He promises into your skin. “Lemme show you.”

And, well, that’s enough for you. 

[girlcowboy]

okay just need some thoughts about rough sex with rhett when he's upset with you and how relentless he could be. LIKE ROUGH

Usually he's pretty gentle with you.

He's been feeding you good. You do strong work on the hard and you've toughed up. You're soft in the thighs, strong in your core.

It sure doesn't feel like it when he hauls you over your shoulder.

The secret is that Rhett likes it rough. He prefers it. He likes the feeling of pinning you down, leaving fingertip-shaped bruises in your skin. He doesn't let himself have it often, he takes it soft and slow with you because you're something precious to him and his daddy raised him to treat women right.

But good God. You drive him nuts.

You could be married. Just gotten together. Just friends. But Rhett realizes he likes you taking it, taking him. The adrenaline rush hits him after the rides and he treats you like he treats those bull- like something to be controlled. To be tamed.

[wellsblvd]

Ryland Grace who gets BONERS from KISSING. Walk with me…

pre/post PHM, doesnt matter.

Ryland turns when he feels the weight of your gaze prickling at the skin between his shoulderblades and scalp. Your head is tilted a little bit, a smile on your face as you watch Ryland move toward you.

He barely murmurs a small “hi” before he’s got his lips on yours, feeling the rushing blood under his fingertips as he brings his hands to your waist. Slipping his hands under your shirt, Ryland feels the warmth radiating through your lower back and feels a pulsing in his own body. Feeling you, here and now, hot and loving him was just… an answer to a prayer he’d forgotten he’d asked for.

You do that thing where you press your front to his after your pointer finger sloooowwwly pulls him closer to you by his belt loop, and damn is Ryland a goner. You groan a little into Ryland’s mouth when he pulls you up and towards him: the sheer tangibility of his want only adding to the lust in your mind. You feel the little spikes of his hair as you slowly bring your hands up to the nape of his neck to feel him and then the smoothness of his skin as you bring your hands to his face in any attempt to mold you two impossibly closer.

Only when you start to feel your head physically weigh heavier and when you hear the loud whooshing of your blood behind your ears do you force yourself away. Panting, you see Ryland’s eyebrows screwed up. He whines and rests his forhead on your chest: how could you be so cruel as to pull away from him? Ugh. “I’m hard,” he whispers.

You chuckle breathlessly. “What’d you say?”

Ryland looks up: the epitome of want and desire and undercover eroticism. “I’m fucking hard.” His hand reaches for yours and he palms the back of your hand. Eyes locked on yours as he brings your hand to the crotch of his pants to make you feel just what you do to him. The way his throat vibrates with a barely withheld whimper when you palm him makes you want to drop his pants right then and there. “Y/n.”

An evil glint is in your eyes. “I love when this happens.”

Ryland groans, this time from embarrassment. “I love that you love it but I- it happens so often.”

You exhale a laugh throught your nose as you lean in to kiss him again. “We’ll take care of that, honey.”

[cloudytimelapse]

"Carl and I made a baby"

Except it’s - "(Your Name) and I made a baby"

Which immediately sends Stratt into a stressful spiral because she thinks her lead project scientist is about to become a father on a timeline meant to save the world.

Cue Ryland frantically tripping over his words to explain that he meant an astrophage baby, not a human baby.

All the while he is turning beet red because now the image of a real, actual human baby with you is firmly stuck in his head and his brain is short-circuiting.

Can you hear me scream?!

[joepickett]

Outer Range 1.03