I YEARN AND CRAVE FOR MILDRETTA POOSAY GRINDING THROUGH PANTIES WITH A SOFT SUBMISSIVE BUNNY READER GRRRRRR
Okay listen. Yes this is a request but you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I saw the way you wrote for Mildretta and my third eye was opened I LOVE YOU
Imagine Mildretta and her bunny girlfriend with all her soft curves trying to butter her up for a night of unlimited snuggles but her bunny gf is just TOO tantalising to resist. She folds her in half, knees either side of her head, thighs pressing against her own breast as Mildretta grinds her clothed puss onto her bunny gf’s clothed puss- her bunny gf begs and tries leaning up for so many kisses she just can’t help but give her what she wants and takes both their panties off 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
- 🐰💖🎀
I got you Anon! LOVEEEE me some bunny girl stuff!
Honey Bunny (Mildretta x Bunny!gf)
You and Mildretta were a perfect, complementary pair. For how brash and loud she was, sharp edges and all, you balanced her out with your soft, plush body and sweet voice. You were just too cute for her to handle, and she had to stop herself from squeezing you too tightly every time she saw you. Borderline cuteness aggression towards you.
She loved giving you head scratches, especially ones behind your ear, which caused your foot to thump enthusiastically. She loved how you would get so excited when she got home from a mission, jumping into her arms and nuzzling into her neck.
However, that cuteness aggression would sometimes get too much for her to ignore, causing her to tug on your long fluffy ears and gently pull your tail to hear your yelps and whimpers. She liked to corner you, tilting your chin up and forcing you to make eye contact with her while she demanded that you give her a good kiss.
Tonight was no different, Mildretta had just returned from a rough mission, one that left her bruised and sore, but satisfied as always. Your nose twitched, her scent different than usual in a way that you didn’t like. You were quick to rush to her side, nosing at her neck and carefully tracing your fingers over her new bruises. Mildretta took note of the pale pink panties you wore, your favorite pair because “they matched her hair”. You had donned yourself in one of her oversized shirts, your excuse being that it still had her scent on it and therefore it made you not miss her as much (that was a lie, you still missed her painfully).
“Does it hurt?”
“Nah, not too bad. No trash beast is takin’ me out that easy,” Mildretta smirked, wrapping a strong arm around you. “Might heal a little faster if you kiss ‘em better, though.” You giggled at her not-very-subtle act of flirting, pressing your lips to one of the bruises on her arm.
“Can we snuggle while I kiss ‘em better?” You asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.
“Of course, pretty girl,” she said, placing her arms under your bottom and scooping you up without any struggle.
“You’re so strong, Milly,” you hummed, placing another kiss on her shoulder as she carried you to your shared room.
“All f’you bun.” Mildretta plopped you down on the bed before removing her cleaner pants and jacket, leaving her in a tank top and panties. After, she immediately got comfortable by laying on top of you, her weight pressing you into the soft sheets as she kissed you softly. You couldn’t stop yourself from sighing into it with an air of satisfaction, and you could feel the corner of her lips quirk up into a grin.
“What’s up, pretty girl?” She asked, trailing kisses along your cheek and jawline.
“Nothin’. Just happy you’re back is all.”
“Is that really all? Cuz you haven’t stopped squirming since I laid you down. What’s that about, hm?”
“Millyyy,” you whined, trying to rub your thighs together to alleviate some of the ache that had settled.
“Use your words, honey bunny,” she laughed, the slightly raspy sound sending a new wave of heat through you. “I won’t know how to help if you don’t tell me.”
“I just… I missed you,”
“Yeah? Missed me how?” You didn’t miss the way her hips ever so slightly started to rock against yours.
“I dunno, ‘s embarrassing,” you huffed, cheeks heating up and fluffy ears twitching as you tried to hide your face.
“Nothin’ embarrassing about missin’ me, bun, but you gotta tell me what you need. I’m not a mind reader.”
“I wanna feel you, like this, but I need more…”
“Aww poor thing. You’ve been achin’ f’me since I left, haven’t you?” Mildretta punctuated her sentence with a deliberate thrust of her hips, one that had a flustered squeak escaping you, your hands flying to her broad shoulders. “Bet you’ve soaked those little panties right through.”
She was right, the gusset of your panties were embarrassingly wet and all from a little kissing and teasing. Instead of giving her an answer, you leaned your head up, searching needily for a kiss. Mildretta was quick to oblige, pressing her lips to yours; heated and messy. Her hips began to fall into a painfully slow rhythm, her pussy grinding against yours through your panties. The kiss was sloppy and wet, your lips barely parting even when you felt yourself running out of air. You were too desperate, too needy for her, your hips bucking up like they had a mind of their own.
“Easy, ‘m right here,” Mildretta laughed, nipping at your swollen bottom lip. “I’ve got you.”
“More, more please!” You whimpered, blunt nails digging lightly into her broad shoulders as the tears in your eyes threatened to spill.
“Aww, no need to cry, pretty girl. I know… I know you just need it so bad, don’t you?” Her calloused hands moved to the backs of your trembling thighs, pushing them up until they were pressed against your chest, having effectively folded you into a mating press and baring your drenched panties to her. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet. Who’s all this for?”
Your mind spun and a breathy moan left your lips as she ran a finger down the seam of the soaked fabric.
“Answer me, bunny. Who made you this wet?”
“You-,” you gasped as she pressed her finger down harder, finding your clit with perfect precision. “You did, Milly!”
“Good girl,” she groaned, feeling another wave of your arousal seep into the pale pink fabric. “Think we should take these off now, don’t you?”
“Yes! Yes please, wanna feel you more, please,” you pleaded desperately. Mildretta chuckled at your pathetic sounds, letting you drop your legs so she could slide your panties off of you before sliding her own off. She was quick to push your thighs back up, pressing her bare cunt against yours, sliding against each other with a delicious friction that had both of you moaning loudly.
“Fuck, you feel so good bun,” Mildretta groaned, grip digging into your plush thighs even harder with each thrust of her hips. “Knew this pussy missed me.”
“Mmhmm,” you hummed, desperately searching for another kiss. “Missed you s’much Milly.”
“I’ll make it up to you baby, I promise. Won’t be letting you up until you make a mess outta this bed.”
I have a lot of Tamsy writings in my notes and some Enjin… should I post them all soon? And sorry if he’s ooc… I tried to display what his true personality would be like if he was comfortable enough to do it with another person. My inspo? I saw two Metalhead Tamsy fan arts that made me feral.
Context: Rich metalhead Tamsy. Normal AU.
Warnings: AFAB Reader. He does drugs lwk... It's implied though. Implied relationship... idk fwb? Smut at the end. Will be separated. Tamsy’s mind wanders off to noncon for a moment since I was thinking about exploring his personality.
Word count: 4.7k
Dark, thrifted clothing with every stretched out thread and hole imaginable lining the edge of his baggy shirt, pants nearly three times the width of his legs, and held up securely by a studded belt–it all somehow looked ethereal yet grounding. Probably due to his angelic appearance, you think… yeah, that’s part of why. He’s a naturally pretty boy.
His two contrasting looks: the sweetest round face and cutest button nose known to man, and flowing, nearly platinum blond hair, and a darker under displaying his true nature: all depravity. The picture-perfect embodiment of what would be worshipped at the altar. The savior you’d see in your dreams, and the kind of man you only saw once in your life and never again.
“Still don’t want to?”
“…you cannot be serious.”
The plastic baggy is held between an index finger and thumb as he sweetly smiles at you, golden eyes crinkling. The powder displaces itself as he shakes it–the very white powder.
White like his pristine home, excuse me, mansion. Amazingly pristine and enormous. Multiple rooms with a specific, arbitrary purpose. He even had a spiral staircase in the damn place.
His room? It somehow reflects the utopia of his home and the rugged uniqueness of how much he adored metal. It was a room that was regal enough to have a canopy, shielding you both in the sanctuary of his king-sized bed, and a chandelier, while also having stands and display cases for his multiple collected possessions–all sorts of guitars and knick-knacks.
A prized guitar on the wall too. It had the charm of being an outsider when compared to his room, having a golden and white aesthetic. He made sure to keep it cleaned at all times. Yet, his status of being on the higher end of society showed with his bookshelf, nearly its own mini library, and walk in closet. Clothes and accessories you haven’t even seen online, yet it was somehow thrifted.
And with all that money he naturally had access to? He mostly spent it on cheap thrills. The one-time experience of a certain narcotic, but, interestingly enough, never on smokes or marijuana. The real shit, however? His band T's and collectibles? He made sure to get that through hard work from his admiration. No posers allowed, no matter if he was a spoiled kid.
“Like? Why do you even have that shit, dude.”
“Curious.”
“No, I’m not curious–“
He pops open the bag as he plops down beside you, legs stretching along the dark quilt as his back lies pressed on the pillows. His smile widens more, and you immediately cover your nose with a panicked expression.
“It wasn’t exactly a question. Here, sniff it.” Trails of blond slowly spill over his shoulder in strands as he leans toward you, hand gripping the sheets as his eyes darken with mirth.
“Get that shit outta my face, Tamsy.”
“You know, I’ve tried it before,” his expression sours for a moment as he lowers the bag and obviously ignores your discomfort. His fingers on the dark bedding slowly itch towards your form, then quickly cup the back of your neck.
There’s a brief shock to your system from how cold his fingers are, and he, surprisingly, doesn’t force your nose to take a dive in the bag dangled between his fingers. The hint of mirth in his eyes are replaced with disgust as his lips run to a tangent, the air spiked with hostility.
“I think whoever formulated the slightest idea of cocaine should jump off a building.”
You sigh annoyed, and his fingers tug on the curls on your neck.
“Okay, now you’re acting like you’re on meth, and nobody told you to cope that stuff neither.”
Torrents of blond and blue pour onto your lap as he lies his cheek on your shoulder, the portion that has the discolored scar, and the rest of the long strands fan his bedding. He stares at your profile through his thick lashes as the tense air smoothens into a soft, relaxing stillness once more. “Should I try methamphetamine next then?”
“No. Stop chasing a high.”
He smiles again then finally tosses the dastardly bag on his nightstand.
The scarred male's rough fingers whisper along your nape in a teasing rub, and you instantly arch away from his touch. His eyes follow you as you wriggle away from his hand.
He frowns, but it clearly doesn’t reach his eyes as you maneuver from his touch. His lips pull downwards, but his eyes crinkle more with a different story, one that decorates his fair features with amusement.
“First you reject my offering then you reject my affection?”
You snort. “You were tickling me.”
His voice is soft, naturally velvety, really, as he hums. “Would’ve been nice to see you laughing. I like the noise.”
You tilt your head down to his face still propped on your shoulder, nose pushing against his upturned one.
“Noise is a negative way to describe something you claim you like.”
Immediately tempted, he presses his lips against yours before you can blink, a taste of his plushness, then he pulls back. There’s silence between you two in the moment his golden irises clash with your depths, letting the heat simmer for a moment. His lips then hungrily meet yours again, abruptly as his fingers cup your nape, forcing your lips down to his.
He gradually lifts his head off your shoulder as his lips move quickly against yours, the quick and quiet noise piercing the silence of his room. They’re warm and soft with just the right amount of moisture–perfect, really.
His plump lips increase their fever, and you feel the ghost of his labret touching your lower lip. There’s a constant passing of coolness on your lower lip while his own continues moving against yours–the neediness exhibited in his unreasonable hurriedness. He could take his time with tasting you, and he could savor every slow tug and press of softness.
But his heart pounds faster and reaches heights not even the drugs could touch when he’s devouring you.
——-
“Come with me.”
You stand in the little bathroom of your apartment as he leans against the doorway. Dressed in his oversized shirt, you don’t bother turning your head to the male as you focus on flossing, eyes making conversation more with the mirror rather than him.
“To?”
His hair flutters behind him as he enters the bathroom and stands beside you. He takes two of the thick scrunchies on the counter and pins up his hair; thick hair like his needs more than one flimsy little hair tie to keep his mane in place.
He then turns on the faucet while staring at you through the mirror, the squeak of it a bit grating. “A concert I plan on going to.”
Your eyes remain locked on your jaw as your slide the thread between your teeth. “And when?”
He cups his hands under the faucet then leans over the counter hunched, “tomorrow,” and casually splashes his face with water.
You immediately pause your repetitive movement. Your eyes avert from your teeth to the male dampening his face as he twists the water off. The flossing pick gets debated on being thrown or not as he opens his eyes and reaches for the cleanser, clicking open the bottle and lathering a dollop in his palm.
“Are you dead ass?"
He immediately cracks open an eye with a smile as he rubs his palms together, evenly spreading the facial soap, then places them on his face, hands moving in circular motions.
“Hmm? Don’t want to go?”
“There is no way you invited me last minute.”
He shrugs as he stands upright and gazes at his reflection, washing the cleanser into his skin with the mirror’s aid. His face is immediately caked in white suds as his eyes avert to yours in the mirror.
“There isn’t. It’s next week. Thursday.”
You glare at him; the casual rage baiting doing its work.
You spit venom back at him as you wave the tiny flosser. “I should put hot sauce in your cleanser one day.”
Yes, he's constantly at your apartment to where his entire skin care catalogue takes up the space in your home.
Tamsy doesn’t falter in his practiced movement as he hunches over the counter again and flicks on the faucet once more. The running water answers you first, then his response, nonchalant but not hiding the amused lilt. His eyes glance at you from over his shoulder as a pretty lock briefly passes in his vision, gracefully submitting to gravity but subdued by the streaming faucet’s water.
“You little sadist. Is it to see me cry over my ruined skin or to suffer from the burn?”
You roll your eyes at his feigned ignorance. “How about a consequence for always trying to egg me on?”
He closes his eyes as he splashes his face a couple times then scrubs away the remaining suds. “I don’t think that’s fair.”
“No, it is.”
He stands up with eyes closed as droplets of water trail down his dripping face. His eyelashes are beautifully curled as the roundness of his cheeks glistens. You watch as a droplet escapes and plops itself on his shirt, then sigh as he blindly reaches for the fluffy rag on the rack to dry his face.
You cup the back of his wrist to stop his wandering hand then grab the rag for him. Your hand then slowly guides him to face you, and you begin to dab his face dry.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Shut up. You use that when you’re lying.”
He smiles and leans down more into your hands dabbling away the moisture. Feeling dry enough, the male then pulls away and slides open the medicine cabinet to pull out cotton pads and face toner.
“Don’t you want to come, dove?”
You place a hand on your hip as you place the rag back on the hanging rack.
“I didn’t say no. I just didn’t want you asking me something important last minute.”
He clicks open the bottle with a flick of his thumb and tilts it over the cotton swab, and a chemical smell wafts in the air for a moment. The liquid quickly bleeds into the white pad and drenches it, and he pats the Apple of his cheeks first as he stares at the mirror. He's quite the diva for a man who headbangs first in the morning.
“So, are you still coming?” His voice is soft and light, almost sounding innocent in its request, but you can easily hear the hint of impatience in his voice, wanting a true confirmation from your lips rather than an implicit statement. The nerve of him.
Exasperated, “Tamsy, yes.”
He dabs the pad on his forehead and chin, “Good. Match with me.”
You place your hands on your hips, growing more annoyed at his demands, then falter, knowing you couldn’t reject anything he wanted. “As in wear your clothes or actually match with you?”
“Wear my clothes,” he dabs the damp pad on his button nose then covers the rest of his face that’s untouched.
You lean on the counter, staring at his side profile, and admire his Cupid’s bow from the side, every angle of his face worthy to be mindlessly stared at. You’re tempted to touch his face, but you know he’d grab your wrist in an iron grip before it could even hover towards his cheek. Pretty, proper metalhead boy doesn't like it when his routine is disturbed.
The treacherous freed lock from his bun lingers wetly aside his cheek, and you brush it behind his ear without a second thought. The male pauses from your impulsive, considerate gesture, since the blond strand is wet enough from the faucet. He slowly pulls his gaze from the mirror. His lips then curl as his eyes become half-lidded, amused, and speaking with his usual amusement.
“What is it, Tamsy?”
“Moisturize my face.”
You take your hand away as he flicks the used cotton pad in the tiny bin beside the sink. Its purpose was served well for a pedantic man.
Sighing, you grab the face lotion from the medicine cabinet and pop it open with a flick of your thumb. You squirt a reasonable amount on your palm and lift your eyes only to smile at the comical sight he displays.
Tamsy, with quick motions and eyes closed, is fanning the toner dry on his face with his hands. He turned his face side to side to catch all angles for the manmade wind to reach. You immediately laugh at his prissy nature, the thing only you get to see, and set the moisturizer down.
With your freed hand, you, too, quickly fan the toner dry on his face, and he smiles more at feeling the extra coolness caressing his skin. “Sweet, you are. Especially after my continued pestering.”
“I guess I love you.”
His smile is gone within seconds, flattening into a line, and his eyes slowly crack open. The gold in his eyes somehow glows with a calculating glare, and you immediately turn your head away, not wanting to face his passive aggresive wrath. Though it was hard to ignore the grin creeping on your face.
The very last thing he likes to hear is you challenging your love for him. It wipes every trace of lightness in the air; Tamsy makes sure to have you uncomfortable and squirmy for souring his mood… buttt you’ve gotten used to his moody antics and always use a quick little side comment to rile him up. Payback, it is.
You immediately scurry away from him and towards the bathroom door, feeling the sudden drop in temperature, but thin, yet solid, arms quickly cage you to his chest.
They squeeze your soft sides, and you slowly crane your neck upwards with an innocent smile. His front pushes against your backside as he stares down at you from narrowed eyes, and his adorable nose.
“Don’t go leaving now. Say it again.”
You laugh, “I guess I like you.”
A hand slowly ghosts upwards, and his slightly damp fingers graze your chest. His hand cups one of your breasts, and you try to look away as his fingers slowly squeeze it. “Mmm... That isn’t what was said. Repeat it correctly.”
You look back up at him with a smile, and his gaze is still darkened, but his testing, faux smile is gracing his lips. Before you can respond, his thumb and index rub the nub beneath your shirt between his fingers–the clash of the harsh fabric of the shirt rubbing against it, along with his unmerciful movements. A puff of air is sucked into your nose at the action, and you cup the back of his hand from the mixture of pain and small inklings of delight sparking from the harsh touch.
“C’mon, that hurts. Let me just moisturize your face.”
He lowers his face and presses his chin atop your head, “Repeat what was said.” His finger then flicks the nub, sending a small shock to your system from the brief pain.
You jolt underneath him, finally correcting your statement, “I-I guess I love you…”
The tall male pauses his fingers, then cups both of your breasts. They overflow in his palms, and he looks over his nose with a delighted expression, “So you can listen.”
“Dude–“ You then immediately suck in a breath as his teeth unexpectedly bite, not nibble, bite on your ear. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to pull a boxer’s move, but just enough to have you let out a gasp of pain.
“Who are you calling 'dude', hm?”
You grit your teeth and try to focus on the cool wetness still on your palm rather than the slow indent from his mouth. “Should I say bro then-ow!”
His teeth grind more into the sensitive skin, and more pain throbs on the side of your head, but his hands moving on your chest, slowly groping the weight of your breasts, has you leaning more into him. His thumbs rub your nipples as they continue kneading your chest.
“Do it right.... Say it properly.”
You squirm with a smile, “Master?”
He immediately pulls his mouth away with a deadpan and stops kneading your chest. “Ew…”
You instantly giggle and take it as a chance to turn around in his arms. The male’s expression doesn’t change as you take advantage of your opening, and his hands rest on your back as you face him.
You finally swipe a portion of the moisturizer onto two fingers and rub it into his cheek first in circular motions to evenly distribute the product. “So prissy. How are you even a metal head?”
“How are you even handling one?”
You snort, “I like the juxtaposition of your home life and genuine interests,” you swipe another glob and rub it into the other cheek. He leans into your gentle motions as his eyes remain locked onto yours, his honeyed gaze, sweet smile, and round face all hypnotizing.
“Incubus, stop looking at me like that…” You apply the lotion to his forehead and chin with your two fingers. You rub it into his silky skin.
“That’s quite insulting.”
“You are one.”
He hums, his polite shadiness bleeding through the conversation, “I’m not a certain umbrella weirder.”
You immediately laugh at the snide remark as you place your palms on his cheeks. He closes his eyes as you rub the remnants of the lotion into his skin, your fingers squishing his cheeks and pulling on his pretty face. Unnecessarily exaggerated with rubbing it into his skin, but he knows it’s you taking advantage of touching him again.
“Finished.”
You pull your hands away, and he immediately reaches a hand behind his head. He pulls his thick strands free and floods of blond and navy overflow past his shoulders. The side of his face is obscured by the blond of his hair, and he slowly pulls it to the side with the back of his hand as he smiles, scarred side of his face and pretty eyes exposed once more.
You scoff. “You’re such a flirt.”
He tosses the scrunchies back onto the counter, “All I did was free my hair.”
“Doing it flirtingly. With your eyes and that face.”
His hands reach out towards you, and he places them on your waist. He tugs you towards him and squeezes you closely to his chest. The pretty man's head tilts downwards to meet your gaze better, and you’re both curtained by his two-toned hair.
His face is soft, both skin and expression, as your hands cup his cheeks. Your thumb momentarily brushes the cool metal under his lip, and his lips kiss the pad of your thumb, golden eyes holding court and keeping you stationed.
“…like, how can you deny being a flirt?”
His lips pull away from your thumb, and he bunts his forehead against yours.
“Perhaps this Incubus should use his powers now?”
“In what way?”
His fingers tap the counter of the sink, and you immediately try to tug away from him with a slow flush rising at his hinted implication. His hand presses more into your form as you try to tug yourself away more at his suggestion.
“No. I don’t feel like cleaning the counter when we’re done because I barely finished brushing my teeth. We can fuck somewhere else, Tamsy.”
His hand reaches down to your thigh and slowly hooks the back of it, gradually propping the leg on the counter, “Then multitask.”
You snort and immediately hold onto the counter for balance, “Excuse me?”
“Brush your teeth now while I fuck you.”
“I am actually going to kill you.”
——
It's the aftermath of an exhilarating performance. The bass pounding your body inside out, music drowning out your own thoughts, and wild screaming with the mixture of a metallic-sweaty tang in the air.
It bleeds away into a dirt smell when you're long gone from the brute of the experience. You're situated at an empty lot, its flicking lamplights shining more on the hoards of cars rather than the small building that separates you and him from the drunk strangers revving up to leave... or possibly do what you're doing with their own partner.
“Higher–here.”
His hand holds the back of your knee, nearly up to your chest, as he hooks it over his waist. His hips stop moving their vigorous pace for a moment as he adjusts the position then mumbles to himself, satisfied with how exposed you are for him.
“There.”
You’re barely able to let out a word as his lips eagerly collide against yours again, and all that’s ringing in the secluded space are the wet sounds of skin slapping and desperate kisses. Your arms tighten their hold around his neck as he curls his body over yours more, attempting to press every inch of himself on you.
There’s already a creamy ring around the base of his cock from how long he’s been slapping into you, long after the band you both came to see ended their performance. Dribbles of your mixed lubricants plop onto the grass as his pace remains the same; hurried, hungry, and singleminded.
His piercing consistently whispers against your lower lip as he kisses you feverishly, eyes closed tight and heavy puffs of air leaving his nose. The long-haired male's fingers dig into the flesh of your leg as the fabric of his jeans roughly grazes your skin.
There’s a thick layer of saliva connecting your lips as he breaks away from the kiss, and he dives again, more so to lick it away than to steal another kiss.
Puffs of warm breath hit both of your faces as you both pant. Your arms squeeze more around his neck, and he immediately switches the position.
He hoists your body higher on the wall, and your legs wrap around his waist, resulting in his length sliding deeper into you. You sputter out his name and accidentally tug on his tresses from how sudden the movement was.
The fair male, with his puffy, pink, glistening lips, tilts his head more into your grip, groaning from the burn of his scalp. “Like that, keep… keep pulling.”
You tremble from the slide of his cock, deliciously rubbing against your walls, and tug harder on the navy strands of his hair. The male groans and squishes your plush waist. He hunches into your form, and you immediately let out a moan as his hips slap eagerly into you again.
His cock thrusts into you with an impressive pace, needy and rhythmically, but never breaking its rapidness. Your walls convulse around him, and it results in him digging his nails into your skin, blunt ends making crescents.
His pace, however, still doesn’t falter. Tamsy’s teeth rasp your neck as he groans through his teeth.
And then, affectionately, his hand cups the back of your head and slowly lays it on his shoulder–him knowing very well any sweet gesture he did soaked you even more for him.
It works too. Embarrassingly, another wave of juices coats his cock and drips down to his sack as your face buries itself into his neck. A knowing glint shines in his eyes as they flutter from the wetness sliding down his cock more, “Predictable.”
You whine into his shoulder, “Shut upppp…” You squeeze even more around him, barely able to speak or form a sentence. The high is mixed between the intoxicating fucking of his cock and the alertness of not wanting to be caught at the venue.
Tamsy wantonly moans in your ear, knowingly rousing you even more, and pulls on the strands of your hair as his cupping hand remains there. “You’re making a mess.”
Tears from his slapping cock bud into your eyes as you cling onto him while lifting your head, biting back at him, “A-and you're moaning like a pornstar, quiet down…”
The two-toned-haired male slowly smiles and stalls his hips. You immediately whine, annoyed, and pull your head back to meet his gaze, “Don’t do that…”
“Did you truly want me to quiet down?”
“No…”
“Then shut up and take it.”
Again, your juices spill around his cock from his assertion, and you bury your face in his neck wordlessly.
“Not like that. Kiss me again, and I’ll make you squirt as much as you can at this lot.”
Your face actually flushes, the embarrassment of his lewd words making your head spin, and you pull your face away from his neck. His piercing glints as he mockingly smiles down at you, “Good. That pretty head of yours can follow through on commands.”
You wrench his head down and urgently push your lips against his. The male groans through his nose and holds your hips to keep you grounded on the wall. He surges his hips deeply against yours. His quick pace resumes, and your messy make-out becomes nearly clumsy as the building sensations of his cock plunging deep, his soft, sweet lips sliding and sucking against yours, and the growing lightheadedness fog your mind.
Your body doesn’t thrum with the boom of the music venue, and your ears can’t acknowledge the discordant voices boisterous around you in the lot. Your body, instead, only hears the rich noise of his pants, feels the scratching of his clothes against your skin, heightening the pleasure of his enthusiastic thrusts, and thrums in tandem with the heart pressed closely against your chest.
The wet, loud slaps of lips merrily meeting each other, and his cock reappearing and disappearing inside you, are all that you hear. And then you finally feel it arise, insistently and rapidly as his cock slides itself back inside you.
Your hands tug at his hair as you try to break from the kiss, but his hand at the back of your head keeps your mouth glued to his.
It’s no worry, though. He feels it, your release strengthening.
Down to every quiver and clench hugging his moving cock. No, his pace doesn’t falter at all. Why should he stop when both of you are close to reaching the apex of your connection? You’re going to cum either way, no point in stopping.
His eyes slowly crack open and stare at your glittering lashes from the tears balled along them. His hand then slides down the softness of your stomach, and his thumb rubs the pearl standing stiff atop your pussy, nearly begging him to touch it.
Tears finally cascade down your cheeks as you open your mouth into the kiss, uncontrollably moaning, and he forces his tongue deeper. Your fingers pull his tresses tight, and his eyes roll back just for a moment at the concoction of blooming pain and his dick getting deliciously embraced.
For a moment, just a moment, he thinks about what if he made you scream in the venue? What if he kept going until you were sobbing and tugging on his hair for him to stop? Until you’re sniveling pathetically–fuck, he’s gotten harder somehow.
To force himself on you like that, would you want it? For no one to hear as he continued kissing you and biting you as if you were the toy he’s threaded with his teeth, pinching into your skin like a needle urging itself deeper and deeper.
The thought… the very thought of that…
The male seized up, and his hips twitched in their rhythmic pace for once, surprising you enough to open your eyes. Tamsy pulls his tongue out of your mouth as his eyes nearly cross, face flushed red and written in ecstasy at the thought of ruining and debasing you to where you hated him.
Your nails dig into his shoulder as warmth then pools inside your pussy, thick and hot, with spurt after spurt. His cheek presses against yours as his face morphs into a drunken, full-toothed smile as he laughs, mind fogging from his own orgasm and depraved thoughts.
His drool dribbles onto your cheek as his orgasm washes over him, but he somehow manages to keep his grip on you tightly against the wall.
His cock remains plugging all of his spend inside you as the last of his shivers die down. Tamsy breaks out of his pussy drunk spell and turns his head. He slowly licks his drool off your cheek, dragging his tongue languidly, and you immediately groan, a bit turned off at his behavior.
“What happened to makin’ me squirt, weirdo?”
His lips suck on the area then bite at your cheek, “You’re acting as if I still can’t make you.”
“Well, you clearly didn’t so-oh!”
You end up cutting yourself off as he pulls himself out of you, cock slapping against his jeans. Trails of creamy spend drip out of you, and you hold onto the wall, embarrassed at the mess, which wasn’t even yours... well, possibly a quarter yours.
The male doesn’t bother tucking himself in his pants as he immediately lowers himself to your leaking mound. His face latches itself to your thighs and laps up the juices at your thighs as he hoists one over his shoulder. His fingers ghost over his softened cock and pinch the head, waking it up for another round.
“T-Tamsy-“
“Shut up. I thought you wanted me to make do on my word, hmm?”
You stare down at him, flustered, and brace yourself on the wall. He looks up at you through his lashes as his tongue continues lapping to where he promised.
“Tie my hair up while at it.”
You whine, “Really...”
His face threatens to pull away, and you immediately oblige, pulling the strands out of his face and holding them into a makeshift ponytail.
enjin’s girlfriend gets naked every time they start to argue and he freaking hates it because… well, he’s just a man.
enjin hates getting into arguments with you, which is exactly why this one that's been building for the past three days sits heavy on his chest. he's leaning against the table now on his fourth cigarette of the day, jaw tight, clearly trying to keep his tone level even if his patience is hanging by a thread.
"no, because you always do this," he says with his brows furrowed, "you avoid the problem and joke about it, and then suddenly we're not even talking about it anymore."
you blink at him, unimpressed, "oh, so now i always do it?" you shoot back, tone sharp enough to keep this fight going, "you're being dramatic."
"girlie," enjin exhales, dragging a hand down his face, "see? right there! you're doing it again," he points at you, pacing around before stopping in front of you, "i'm actually trying to talk to you like how a good boyfriend should, and you're just turning it into a bit."
"maybe because you aren't a good boyfriend, enj," you shrug, and that immediately earns you a sharp look from him. you would have laughed if he didn't look so serious. he opens his mouth again, clealy determined to prove you wrong this time.
and then you pull your (already skimpy) top off, revealing your half naked form with your tits out just for him to see.
the silence that follows is deafening that you almost hear enjin short-ciruiting. he freezes mid-breathe and whatever sentence he was about to deliver complete gets wiped from existence as his brain abandons him without warning. his eyes flick down from your face to your plump, perfect breasts.
he badly wants to pierce his eyes for being such traitorous little shits. enjin lets out the most defeated, disbelieving laugh under his breathe, his cigarette dropping on the floor as he do so.
"bro," he mutters, staring at the ceiling as if he's asking it for strength, "are you serious right now?"
you just shrug like this is a reasonable response to conflict as grown adults, "continue. what were you going to say, huh?"
enjin looks back at you, and he swears, he tries so hard to keep his gaze on your face only. he even squits slightly, trying to not get distracted by your fleshy mounds literally saying hello to him, as he recalls his original train of thought a minute ago, "i--" he stops, blinking as if it could help his buffering brain, "i literally had a whole speech ready, goddamn it," he presses his lips together, clearly frustrated.
he points at you, fingers slightly shaking, "this is unfair. you're sabotaging me."
"you're just losing focus, which is not my fault," you hum, stepping a little closer, making your breast jiggle a bit… and his little bit of composure left really starts slipping.
"that is exactly your fault," he shoots back immediately, though there's no real bite this time. his gaze flickers back down again, noticing the marks he's littered on your right breast the other day, clearly still visible, "you can't just do that everytime we argue, every mid-argument. that's not something a grown ass adult does."
"and yet it's working, no?" you reply lightly, earning a short, incredulous laugh from him.
"oh my god," he says, running a hand through his hair again, "no, because i was actually mad, okay? i came here to communicate and be mature and you--" he gestures at your half naked form, clearly unable to even finish the thought, "you just do that. again."
"but i'm listening, babe," you challenge him, stepping into his space closer until he has to look down at you and how your chest looks even more enticing in this angle, "tell me."
enjin stares at you for a loooong second, genuinely weighing his options. there's still a version of him fighting his perversion to stay on track, but his jaw tightens as he breathes slower. he tries to look at your eyes and lock in into it.
"okay," he quietly says, forcing the words out slowly, "i just--i feel like you don't take me seriously when i'm trying to--"
his gaze drops again at your tits.
"--yeah, no," he cuts himself off, shaking his head, "we're done. i'm done. i can't do this," a breathy laugh slips out from him, finally giving up. he still looks mildly annoyed about it, but the obvious strain on his pants tells you otherwise.
"you're sooo annoying," he mutters under his breathe, hand coming up to your waist as he lowers his head to kiss you.
it lands quick and a little bit crooked. he still tastes bitter from all the cigarette he's been smoking this morning, but it doesn't stop you from returning the kiss in the same fervor. his grip on your waist tightens instinctively, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you, as his left hand travels down to squeeze your ass. he exhales against your lips as if he's been holding that in longer than he thought. he smells of tobacco and his musky cologne, yet you lean into it easily.
you expected this outcome the moment you made your move, after all.
"don't think this means you won this time," he mutters against your cherry flavored lip as he leans in again without hesitation this time. the kiss is heavier now, like he's finally admitted defeat instead of trying to fight it like what he's been doing ever since the two of you started talking. his other tattooed hand holds the side of your neck, angling your head better so he can kiss you deeper.
"sure," you murmur back clearly unconvinced, pulling back a bit with a string of saliva between your lips. enjin huffs out a quiet laugh and shakes his head slightly. you start palming his clothed crotch and that makes him groan.
"girlie, you're evil," he says, softer. but he's exactly right where he wants to be, especially when both of his hands are finally back to where they should've been--on your heavenly bosoms.
yeah, he'll let you get away this time. again.
________________
in honor of enjin finally getting out of the fraud list here's a self indulgent drabble abt him <3
Tamsy having a Jacob's ladder piercing because he's a slut but also because it has biblical symbolism as the stairway to heaven where angels ascend and descend, just like me bouncing on it
Cuddling with Tamsy but his hair keeps getting all over you
He'll lay on top of you, hair down and splayed all over the place. It gets in your mouth, tickles your skin, sheds all over your sheets and clothes
If you ask him to move it or put it up, he'll pout and nuzzle into your tummy. Complaining about how much his head hurt from having it in a bun all day and how he just wanted to let it be free
All you can do is sigh and bear through the mess that is his hair.
Bro Santa hitting it prone bone, him being twice your size and pinning you by pressing his chest down on your back, his tummy fitting perfectly against the curve of your spine...
Then he wraps his arm around your throat, squeezing with his bicep just enough to make you lightheaded.... 🤤🤤
