𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ i go by gracie, latina, she/her, 21, i like music and pink and anime and (some) video games and my favorite holiday is valentine's day ! i'm getting back into writing !
the princess will see you now! ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
₊˚⊹ ᰔ who i write for: date everything, rest to be announced
₊˚⊹ ᰔ current favorites : mateo manta, tony, eddie & volt, hoove, hanks, bathsheba, amir, cabrizzio, dirk, cam, timmy
₊˚⊹ ᰔ requests are: temporarily closed as the princess catches up! (fluff, angst, smut)
₊˚⊹ ᰔ masterlist!
the rules of your stay °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
𐙚 18+ account, have age in bio when interacting! mdni
𐙚 no racism, bigotry, homophobia, or hostility
any violation, should the princess see fit, will result in a block and shall be banished from this account.
have you got any fic recs for de? (like fics that arent your own if that makes sense)
recommendations? god yes. okay i was gonna link separate fics on here but all of these writers’ works are just amazing 100/10: @saosinn @barleyo @pocketprncess @pervoshi
my favorite date everything writers on ao3 are seregios, yikestm17, and SarcasticSpace my all time favorite might have to be prissyplastique ( @prissyplastique ) tho, their work was some of the first date everything fics i read!
dealer!jean-loo pissoir (date everything) with feminine reader. sfw with nsfw (sex) briefly mentioned + substance usage obvi. let me cook guys… i kind of want to write more of him as this douchey dealer. + masterlist.
dealer!jean-loo who you only happened to meet because you were in the passenger’s seat of cam’s car during a pickup one day. he could tell right away that you’d never gotten high in your life — a gorgeous thing like you, never experiencing a high? oh, jean-loo just has to help change that. “c’mon, it’s not illegal — okay, maybe a little, but relax,” he coos to you as he hands cam a small baggie, “‘m not gonna get you in trouble. just a little high, je te promets.”
dealer!jean-loo who watches you bite your lip, hesitating before offering him your phone. “ho, oui,” he murmurs as he takes your phone, adding a new contact for himself. jean-loo 💙. “text me soon.” cam scoffs, rolling up the window and driving off; your mind is still lingering on your new dealer, however, and your phone feels warm in your hands.
dealer!jean-loo who you text a few days afterwards. a meeting’s set up and soon enough you find yourself standing at the front door of his apartment. “salut,” he greets you, guiding you inside. he sits you down on his couch, shows you a few different baggies full of substances that all looked vaguely the same. different strands, different effects, different strengths. “but for you, since it’s your first time, i decided to be nice, hm? i made brownies,” he explains heading to his kitchen, “et plus, discount price for the pretty girl. how’s that?”
dealer!jean-loo who holds your first edible brownie to your lips, smirking at your expression. you slowly open your mouth, allowing him to feed you — you’re so sweet, he almost feels bad for teasing you when you scrunch your face up at the taste. “oh, you think you are too good for my cooking, is that it?” he asks, laughing as you scramble to apologize.
dealer!jean-loo who sits with you throughout your first high, enjoying the sight of your body relaxing and your eyes going soft. he’s a good man, talking to you the whole time and learning about you. no moves, not yet. well, no moves outside of his arm around your shoulders while you watch some dumb movie he put on.
dealer!jean-loo who, from that day on, continues offering you whatever you like at a discount price. he’s not always around to sit and indulge with you, but when he can he absolutely does. nothing beats getting high with pretty girls like you. he gets close with you, as close as you’ll let him, sending you somewhat flirty texts whenever you guys are planning meet ups. jean-loo even plays some of his raps off of soundcloud for you. only when you’re high though; he’s not quite sure you’d like them sober.
dealer!jean-loo who comforts you when you freak out. a sharp noise causes you to grow paranoid, but it’s never for long when he’s there, wrapping his arms around you and whispering sweet things into your ear. he kisses your temple, then your hairline and then your hair, gently peppering kisses in between his soft reassurances. “shh, shh, jean-loo is here, mon ange. c’est d’accord, je te promets.”
dealer!jean-loo who rests one hand on your thigh one day, squeezing gently. you’re both high as kites, sitting on your couch, and you find yourself leaning in towards him. you mumble something about him knowing what he’s doing; he denies it, of course. “wouldn’t do anything you don’t want me to,” jean-loo says, glancing at you. expectant. waiting for consent because he knows you want it, too — he’s seen how you look at him, even when you’re sober.
dealer!jean-loo who immediately starts kissing your neck when you tell him he can. he kisses all over, shifting to be on top of you. it happens fast; clothes are removed, skin starts slapping against skin, and his name keeps falling from your mouth so loudly that you’re sure your neighbors can hear it. by the end, he’s snuggled on top of you, still kissing your jaw, still praising you.
dealer!jean-loo who… hasn’t spoken to you since. go figure. your texts end up unread, your calls unanswered. shame fills you whenever you think about driving over to his apartment. you can’t tell if it would be a desperate move or not. all you know is that you needed to see him again, for more than the high he offers.
ooo this satisfied an itch in my brain. might write more jean-loo if ppl like it/request it. also, yes he ghosts you!!! he feels too sleazy for you!!! you’re barbie & he’s drugstore knock off ken okay, he doesn’t feel good enough for you and he has poor communication skills.
“why aren’t you peeing?” you look up at him through your lashes. making sure to pout your glossed lips a little extra, not missing the way his eyes flick from them back to your finger trailing the vein along his cock.
he lets out a deep sigh, pushing his glasses up in the process. “i’m erect,” you watch from your knees as he stares back at you. his hands balling up against his thighs.
your finger swirls around his tip, slowly. he lets out a stream of air through his nose.
“so?” you giggle, watching the pencil behind his ear fight to stay in position. “is it like… stuck?” you go back to studying his cock — it’s pretty like him. big, slightly curved at his red tip, a protruding vein that you really like running your tongue along — it gets him all stuttery and whiney.
“the erection is adding pressure to my uret-,” he closes his cerulean eyes, rubbing his palm against his jean clad thigh. you are very much aware of what you’re doing. you usually are when it comes to him, everything else… topic for a different hour. “i am not explaining this to you in a bathroom.”
“if you paid attention in anatomy you’d kno-“
“‘toru, you know i’m a cancer sun with a leo moon,” you roll your eyes. your finger now running from the white hairs at the base of his cock, up along his vein again.
his head falls back, the pencil slipping from his ear and making a small sound as it falls against the porcelain of the sink. “that’s as-astrology..” his adams apple bobs and you clench your thighs at the sight.
“whatever,” your grab his cock with one hand, not adding pressure, barely moving — just to feel the weight of it. his cock twitches against your palm, and you grin. “i just wanted to hold it while you tinkle.”
“don’t say that,” he deadpans, his eyes focused on your unmoving hand.
“should i help you?” you tilt your head, innocently but your thumb starts to rub circles against his tip — spreading his precum. he slightly juts his hips towards you. smiling to yourself, you continue. “do i like squeeze it or something?”
you don’t wait for an answer. you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. your eyes still on his, watching every huff of a breath he’s sending out. then you place another kiss, almost feather like. then you take him completely in your wet mouth, your tongue gliding along the underside of his heavy cock.
that earns you the whine you’ve been searching for since you’d entered the bathroom in the guise of holding it while he pees.
now both hands wrap around the base of his cock — his abs flexing with the contact. you bob your head, your mouth wrapping around his tip sucking softly.
you pull back with a pop. your lips glistening with spit. “don’t like pee in my mo-“
“fuck, stop talking,” his hands leave his thigh and thread through your hair. “stop talking and suck my dick.”
“so mean,” you pout, batting your lashes as you look up at him. your hands are still wrapped — slightly twisting at the shaft and jerking up
he groans, his hands pushing your head back towards his waiting cock. this time, you take more of him — your cheeks hollowing, drool pooling, your hands twisting just beneath where your lips stretch around him.
"fuck," he whines, all high pitch and shaky. his hands pull at your hair a little harder as you continue to bob your head — taking him deeper, tasting him on youtube tongue.
his knees buckle, and you moan around him — cause him to twitch against your tongue.
you pull back once again, a string of spit and his precum keeping you connected to his throbbing cock. he looks down at you — pupils blown out, checks flushed pink, sweat dampening his frosty hair.
you lift his cock, your tongue running along his vein and you watch him become slack jaw.
with his hands still in your hair, your lips barely inches away from his dripping tip — you look up at him, all wide eyed and questioning.
tags: college au. this is just pure filth tbh, satoru just wants u all to himself lowkey. pussy drunk satoru, bestfriends w/benefits satoru, eerrrmm idk what else never good at these heh
you don’t even remember what day of the week it is.
finals had completely shredded your brain, you haven’t slept in days, and even now, fresh off your last exam, you’re just floating. fucking exhausted. burnt out. ready to disappear into a coma and not emerge maybe like ever?
and the only reason you’ve made it this far is your bestfriend turned fuck-buddy satoru, who’s been your anchor and your headache all semester. he dragged you to your last lecture even when you didn’t want to go. he brought you takeout during your breakdowns. but he railed you so good when you needed a break from studying or let you ride him when you needed to blow off some steam when your professor gave you a shit mark.
and now, he’s tugging you into his frat house and grinning like the fucking grinch. he’s got that look on his face that screams ‘i’m about to get away with something diabolical’.
he gave you the run down before hand. well, kinda. he paid for your spa day paired with a full body wax and had you drinking hella cranberry juice, pineapple juice and lots of water a few nights beforehand.
he said, “need you reeeeal hydrated princess. you’ll see.”
you just went along with it. you hardly even remembered your birthday was today. you just figured he had planned a fun night for you and him now that finals were over.
but you couldn’t have been more wrong.
“you’re gonna love it, sweets. promise.” he whispers, lips brushing your ear as he ties a black blindfold over your eyes, his voice all sugar and secrets.
“happy birthday, pretty girl.”
you open your mouth to ask ‘what the fuck is’—but then your knees hit the edge of a bed and you’re eased down onto a soft mattress. your dress is pushed up, your panties rolled down and off with a casual flick, and a chorus of familiar voices echo around the room, low and amused. you hear someone who sounds like his friend toji mutter,
“dude, she’s really letting us do this?” and someone else who oddly sounds like sukuna say, “cute. she’s already squirming.”
satoru’s voice cuts through the haze. “alright, alright. boys. you know the rules. first one to make her cum wins. birthday girl’s the judge.”
fuck me.
toji goes first. it’s unmistakably him—the size of his hands, the way he spreads your thighs with no patience, the cocky scoff against your pussy like he’s already won this little game satoru’s got going on. he doesn’t start slow. he’s real greedy, sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s his last meal, groaning against you, sending vibrations throughout your body. you gasp when he shoves two thick fingers inside with no warning. they’re long and calloused, curling up like he knows just where to aim.
“what’s wrong, birthday girl?” he rasps, tongue flicking quick and filthy.
you squirm, gripping the sheets. the wet squelch of your pussy as his fingers piston in and out of you are so loud, it’s almost embarrassing how turned on you are and you’ve barely started.
“gonna cum already?” and honestly, maybe—until satoru tugs him back, laughing.
“give the others a shot, meathead.”
sukuna’s next. he doesn’t even touch you right away. he just breathes you in—hot air fanning over your soaked cunt like he’s deliberately teasing, deliberately punishing you.
“mmmm,” he groans. “smells good,” voice laced with danger.
when his tongue finally meets your soppy cunt, it’s slow, pointed, deliberate. he flicks and laps with cruel control, dragging it from your dripping hole up to your clit, again and again, not letting you settle. he slaps your thigh once, hard enough to sting, and presses a thumb just above your clit while he sucks below it. the pressure is maddening.
“don’t fucking hold back,” he mutters, jaw working harder, faster, as your hips start to roll. “cum on my face, baby. make a mess all over me.”
you nearly do—but suguru drags him off with a smirk and a lazy “uh-uh, it’s my turn.”
suguru is smooth. the kind of smooth that should be illegal. sometimes you wish you had him as your fuck-buddy instead of satoru. but that’s not the point. he talks to you while he eats you out, one hand stroking your thigh, the other teasing your entrance, fingers warm and slow as he kisses your clit like he’s saying hello.
“shh, relax, pretty girl,” he coos, voice low and golden, “let me take care of you.”
his tongue works gentle circles while he slides one finger in, then two, curling them with infuriating ease. he doesn’t rush.
“ahh, that’s the spot, huh?” he says, pads of his fingers pressing right up against your sweet spot repeatedly. “don’t be shy. i know you want it.”
you whimper, thighs starting to shake.
“come on, baby. cum for suguru, yeah?”
he lets your body ride the edge, keeps you trembling, keeps your moans soft and helpless. you’re whining now, but right when you’re about to break, satoru pulls him off with a bark of laughter and clearly a tinge of jealousy.
“yeeeah. back in line, lover boy.”
choso is quiet and intense. he doesn’t say anything to you, but he just buries his face between your thighs. his tongue is everywhere—messy and warm, licking through your folds like he’s starving, like nothing in the world tastes better than you. he grips your thighs hard, presses them open until you’re spread wide, and focuses on your clit with a steady pressure that makes your brain melt.
“feels good, sweetheart?” he coos.
you nod, letting out a whimper. he peers up at you from between your thighs, if only you could see those soft brown eyes right now.
he smirks seeing you bite your lip and squirm, giving gentle kitten licks to your clit before diving back in.
you can feel how hard he’s breathing, nose pressing right up against your clit. you can feel how tight his grip is, how into it he is. every time you moan, he groans like he’s the one being touched. you buck your hips against his tongue.
he presses in deeper. tongue fucking your pussy so good and fuck, you’re right on the edge now, gasping, almost there—
but then there’s satoru.
he was waiting. just watching. lets everyone else play first while he leans against the wall, arms crossed, cock hard in his jeans and smug as he listens to every single sound you make. sounds that he loves to hear normally, but now he’s realizing how much he only wants to hear those noises for himself.
he steps in and pulls choso off of you when your voice is wrecked and your thighs are shaking.
“yep, that’s enough buddy.” he pats choso’s back and sends him to stand with the rest of them.
satoru lays between your thighs, seeing all the spit and slick dripping from your pretty pussy. he smirks.
“alright, watch and learn guys,” he murmurs, hands now smoothing up and down your thighs, licking his lips. “gotta make sure my girl finishes right.”
his mouth is insane.
all plush lips and eager tongue, smoother than suguru but sloppier than toji, focused like choso but just as cruel as sukuna.
he absolutely devours you, moaning into your cunt like he’s been dying for it, wrapping his arms under your thighs to hold you still.
“fuuck, this pussy tastes so good.” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he sucks on your clit. “could be down here all day, sweets.”
you gasp, a hand flying to his soft white hair, “f-fuck— toru!”
he smirks, looking over to the guys, giving them a wink before focusing his attention back on you and your dripping pussy.
he licks a long stripe up from your hole to your clit. his tongue flutters, circles, presses hard and fast against your sensitive nub until your vision whites out behind the blindfold. the room filling with the sweet sounds of your pornographic moans and satoru’s devastating tongue lapping up your cunt.
your hands grip his hair tighter when he sucks your clit just how you like it and he just groans, he loves it. as if this is the best gift he’s ever gotten in his entire life even though it’s your birthday.
“oh my god—“ you mewl, “r-right there, please don’t stop, toru.”
he wouldn’t even dream of it. he continues his relentless pace, licking and sucking so deliciously till it makes your legs shake.
your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing and hot and too much, your whole body curling as you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue, gushing all over his face. he slurps up every last bit of it, not wanting to waste a drop.
satoru lifts his head, face glossy, grinning. “huh, would you look at that. guess i win.”
toji scoffs. “maaan. this shit was fuckin’ rigged.”
sukuna growls. “i call bullshit.”
suguru laughs. he knew satoru wouldn’t let any of the guys win. after all, he’s the only one who knew you and satoru had been fucking for weeks now.
choso just shrugs, he probably would’ve won if satoru hadn’t yanked him off you by his pigtails.
but satoru doesn’t need to know that.
you’re panting, trembling, blindfold still in place—and satoru kisses your thigh before leaning up to whisper by your ear,
“don’t worry, princess. the night’s not over yet. we’re only getting started.”
Can i get more jean loo being mean? Cuz the other one made me crazy in a good way
i miss mean jean loo… we are so back with this!!! nsfw warning
jean loo likes to edge you, much longer than he should honestly. and he’s not even doing that to punish you, he just loves watching you get teary eyed and squirm and whimper because of what he’s doing to you. he fights the urge to stroke his achingly hard cock whenever you beg so sweetly to come, but he doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing that sight. instead he relishes the way you cry out in sheer frustration every time you get closer and closer, right before he stops what he’s doing. he likes edging you the most when he’s eating you out, but he thinks it’s fun to edge you while he’s fingering you too.
He’s been between your thighs for ages now, tongue lazy but ruining, fingers stroking in that way that never lets you quite settle. You’re flushed, sticky, wrecked. And yet still he’s smiling, lips curled and cocky, like you’re not suffering—like he’s not personally responsible for every ruined climax you’ve sobbed through in the last half hour.
He flattens his tongue and drags it up your cunt, with devastating perfection, until you’re teetering again on the very edge. He notices the way your eyes grow wide and your hips squirm.
Almost—
And then he stops. Completely.
You sob. A real sound, raw and wrecked, as your body bucks helplessly beneath him. But Jean Loo is already sitting up, and you hate how handsome he looks; mouth glistening with your slick, chin gleaming. He wipes your mess away with the back of his hand as if it’s nothing.
“Non, non, do not pout like that,” he says, grinning. “Jean Loo is not finished yet. You think he does mediocre work, chérie?”
His hand dips between your thighs again and you whimper. Two fingers slide inside you slowly, deliberately shallow. He curls them just a bit, and watches as you arch.
“Mon dieu, look at that,” he murmurs, soft and mock-sweet. “Already so close again. And who did that? Who made you like this?”
“You,” you gasp. “You did—Jean, please—”
He presses deeper. His thumb finds your clit again, teasing and circling, but not quite enough. Never enough.
He laughs in a way that makes your cheeks flush further, fucking you with his fingers faster now, thumb circling your clit just enough to make you gasp. You feel your orgasm building once again, and you’re so close—
And then again, he stop, pulling out his fingers with a smirk.
“Mon ange, are you crying already?” he coos, catching your chin between his slick fingers, tilting your teary-eyed face up to his. You say nothing, but you don’t miss the way his lip is caught between his teeth when his eyes meet yours. He shifts downward again, mouth hovering just over your clit. His breath fans against you.
“You’ll be good for Jean Loo, won’t you?” he murmurs. “You’ll take it… you know you can.”
He pauses, licking a slow stripe up your aching slit.
“Shameless. Absolutely shameless.” He mutters, pulling back to admire your desperate state.
He doesn’t let up this time. His mouth works in rhythm with his fingers—sucking your clit just the way he knows you need, dragging tight little circles with the tip of his tongue, relentless and precise. You’re trying to warn him, babbling out between gasps that you’re close again, that you’re gonna come, that it’s right there—
And finally… He lets you.
Jean Loo presses his face closer as you break apart, tongue never faltering as your legs clamp around his head and your back arches so hard it hurts. Your orgasm crashes over you, soaking his mouth as you scream his name.
But still he doesn’t stop. Not even as you sob. Not even as your nails dig into his scalp and your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
Only when your body slumps, twitching, breathless, does he pull away— with a grin that you want to slap off his face.
(friar errol x gn! reader, oral - reader giving, errol receiving - facefucking, religious themes, priest/heiro kink, dom!errol, masturbation. reader gets called "wretch", "sinner", "little lamb". errol yaps a lot when getting head 😭)
friar errol can't stand you.
he can't stand the way you stumble down the stairs in only a loose t-shirt to open the door and collect your food order. you don't even care to dress yourself properly before collecting your grease-laden mcdarnel's, like you're completely unashamed of being seen so sinfully: barely dressed and indulging in the temptations of the grease devil.
he can't see you from the kitchen, but he knows that's what you're wearing, because that's what you always wear on nights like this - lazy nights, where you can't even be bothered to throw something frozen into the airfryer, so unabashed in your laziness that you'd give into your sins, just to avoid the minimal effort of using him, and thus, saving your soul.
he only knows what you're wearing because each time you order food, you come sauntering into the kitchen to discard any excess trash it came in - paper bags, and such. paper bags soaked in grease and filth. the grease is the reason he notices you, the only reason. it's the sin of eating something deep-fried and soaked in oil that has him watching you, not the way your t-shirt leaves so little to the imagination. not the way it rides up slightly as you place the mcdarnel's bag on the table, turning your back to him and baring even more of your legs than before.
he swears to the lord of convection himself that he's only watching you because he's worried for your soul. he swears he's watching your actions, your sin, with disdain, not lust at the sheer depravity of your actions. he swears it, to his lord and to himself. he's far too virtuous for such... weak indulgences.
he watches you as you put the dateviators on - really? you're so unashamed in your descent into sin that you'd allow the others in the house to see you as you indulge? - and straight away, you make a beeline for cam. evidently, you've put the dateviators on so you could give your grease-soaked trash to your trash can in person, not so that you could repent to the friar himself. he watches you hand that filth over to cam, who thanks you gruffly, even offering a wink in return. errol wrinkles his nose in disgust.
errol watches you still as you turn to turn to abel, to thank him for holding your food for you whilst you gave your trash to cam. you turn to leave the kitchen, but the friar clears his throat, evidently not pleased with your decision to retire to your bed and to consume this... this filth. you stop, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing full well what you're about to be subjected to.
"you're weak." he says, with so much disdain it makes your skin crawl. it feels like he can see every sin you've ever committed. you should feel annoyed, or disrespected by the way he looks down his nose at you like you're the lowliest scum on earth, but somehow, it manages to turn you on, just a little. you grin at him.
"yeah?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in a way that shows you've clearly no remorse in your choice of food. the friar is clearly disdainful at what he perceives as your disregard for your very soul.
"yes, wretch." he all but spits out, his voice that smooth timbre that you can't help but appreciate, even as he berates you. "you're weak to the temptation of the grease devil himself. if you'd only taken but a minute of your time to turn me on, then you could've-"
you snort.
"turn you on?" you ask teasingly, and he scowls at you with such hatred that it makes your skin crawl. you laugh again, and pull a fry from its cardboard, making direct eye contact as you stick your tongue out and place the salty fry on it. the friar shudders, and the disgust in his eyes only grows as your tongue retracts and you begin chewing delightedly.
"you..." he starts, with disgust. you interrupt him immediately, pressing a greasy, salty fry to his lips. his eyes widen like you've just slapped him across the face, and yet you swear there's an unmistakable dilation of his pupils as you do so. it looks almost like he's fighting something within himself, but ultimately, it seems that you cannot tempt him at this time.
the friar pulls away from the greasiness pressed against his lips, his breathing a little short. anyone else would think you'd seriously harmed him - not simply offered him a fry. he exhales shakily, like it takes him a great deal of effort to collect himself.
"you try to tempt me, sinner." he seethes, his voice laced with poison and outrage. "you think i am so easily swayed, that i would - that i would partake in this filth, as you do."
he inhales and exhales again, slowly.
"i will not. by the lord of convection, i will not."
it sounds like he's trying to convince himself, or his lord, rather than you.
you feel like you're in deep trouble, although all you've done is tease him with a piece of food. you feel that he's overreacting - not knowing that he's been trying to resist temptation for far longer than this short exchange. he's been trying to keep himself together every time you've walked into this kitchen today, and this disrespect is only the breaking point for him.
you go to apologize, to tell him that you didn't know he would feel this disrespected by your actions and you really didn't mean anything by it, but he interrupts you immediately.
"leave." he says, his voice dangerously low - and yet, it sounds hasty, in a way. "leave me. perhaps i may convince you to repent another time, but now, just - leave me."
you're surprised at his lack of trying to prevent you from eating your food, or sinning, as he'd call it. you're equally surprised at the haste with which he ushers you away, with no more attempts to save your soul, or get you to repent before it's too late. it seems out of character for the friar to let you simply retire to your room to eat your mcdarnel's, but he's telling you to leave with such urgency that you simply do as you're told.
you go to your room to eat your dinner as you'd originally planned to, but you still feel slightly guilty all the while. you would think that this was all a part of the friar's plan, to guilt you into not eating oily food and finally succumb to the glory that is the air fryer - but you can't shake the feeling that you've actually disrespected him, this time. you decide that perhaps it's best to give errol an apology after you've finished your food, though, you don't know if he'll forgive you for having eaten it. after finishing your food, you scroll aimlessly on your phone for a long while, dreading having to go back to the kitchen and see the friar again.
:::
once you've finally reached the motivation to go back to the kitchen, it's dark out, and the kitchen is only dimly lit by the light of the surrounding hallway, not the overhead light in the kitchen itself. you suppose it's better that way, since you don't plan on lingering in the kitchen for too long - and you'd rather not have to see errol's piercing, distasteful gaze too clearly, not when it's directed at you.
your bare feet patter on the cold kitchen floor as you approach, but that's not the only sound you can hear. you hear something like heavy breathing, slow, and drawn out, punctuated by the occasional sigh. as you enter the kitchen, your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, your hands flying up to soothe the burning skin as you register what's happening before you.
friar errol is already in the kitchen - though, he's clearly not anticipating your return as you thought he would. his eyes are squeezed shut, his brows furrowed, his own cheeks a shameful red... and he's touching himself. he's actually touching himself, his long, slender fingers palming and groping at what you can make out as a sizeable bulge beneath his robes.
maybe he wasn't as upset as you thought he was by the fry fiasco - maybe he was affected in a completely different way. maybe that's why he ushered you away so hastily. you did think you'd seen a hint of desire in his eyes, earlier...
the sight before you is sinful. the friar is groping himself with such fervour and intensity that you find it difficult to tear your eyes away, especially when he lets out a low groan that has you biting your own lip at the pool of arousal in your stomach it brings forth. he looks handsome like this, you think, with desire no longer hidden on his face, but now written all over it.
part of you wants to stay and watch, but you decide against it. it's not right to watch someone without their consent in such an intimate manner, and if you can slip away now, before he's noticed your presence, that would be ideal. you turn to retreat quietly back to your room, but your bare foot squeaks on the tiled kitchen floor. your eyes widen, and the friar's snap open, and for a moment, you both simply stare at one another. you go to apologise profusely, but the friar interrupts you right away, just like earlier.
"have you come to atone?"
oh.
errol's voice sounds low in the stillness of the kitchen, but there's an unmistakable need to it. a slight wavering, that shows you just how pent up he is right now. his cheeks are still stained, and his hand still rests on his crotch loosely. it seems that even in the dim lighting, friar errol has caught sight of your own flushed complexion, the way you bite your lip in obvious arousal.
you nod immediately. he chuckles shakily, with an air of superiority, but also, relief.
"i knew you would." he says. you step closer to him in the kitchen, and even in the dimness, you can see his gaze traverse over your t-shirt clad body without shame, now. his eyes linger on your bare legs, before flitting back up to your face. you can't tell from his expression whether he adores you or despises you.
"i knew-" he breathes shakily. "i knew you would feel the weight of your sins soon enough. i knew you would come back to me."
even though the friar is very obviously painfully aroused, the way he speaks with such intensity makes you feel less like there's a needy man before you, and more like there's a man of higher standing, a man who makes you want to grovel at his feet.
"i... i'm sorry, friar." your voice comes out small, breathless, and slightly pathetic - and yet, there's delight in the friar's eyes when he hears it. he nods, with a strange sense of both approval and distaste.
"it is no surprise that you couldn't resist temptation." he says dismissively, as though he expected it from you. "but to try and take myself along with you..."
he glances down at his clothed erection. he shudders, but you can't tell if it's from disgust or arousal.
"the lord only knows that your apology is needed, and necessary."
there's a heavy pause, a split second of thick tension in which errol stares you down intensely. when he speaks again, his voice is firmer, more resolute.
"do you truly wish to atone for your transgressions against myself, and the heavenly kitchen?"
you nod wordlessly. his eyes gleam with a dangerous sense of poised triumph.
"good." he murmurs. he takes a step closer to you, and brings a hand up to gently rest his fingers beneath your chin - not touching you, but the intention is there. you comply by tilting your head to look at him.
"i trust you know what i intend for you to do, in order to attain forgiveness."
another glance down at his bulge, from both of you this time, and now it's you who shudders. you hope you're right about what you think he's implying you do. you nod, albeit a little uncertainly, and then you're lowering yourself to the cold kitchen floor shakily, until you're on your knees in front of him. his eyes gleam, and it may be the first time the friar has ever looked pleased with you. he looks ecstatic, behind his mask of composure and righteousness.
his hand returns back to where it was beneath your chin, but he actually touches you, this time. he takes your chin in his hand, and tilts your face all the way up to meet his as he looks down at you. his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the weight of the situation between you.
"you... may not have successfully tempted me by the gresse devil's work, but you have still corrupted me." he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, but still noticeably strained with barely concealed lust.
"you make me feel things that are... less than pure. you make me think things that are a distraction from my holy mission, and you..."
his free hand disappears beneath his robe, fashioning it in a way that now frees his aching cock right before your face. the way he's holding your face in one hand, and his cock in the other, is so painfully arousing that it has you squirming needily as you kneel, pressing your thighs together shamelessly.
"...you owe it to me to deal with these thoughts and feelings." he gives his cock a languid stroke, and smirks when your breathing noticeably hitches in your throat.
"you owe this to me-" he presses the head of his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum on them filthily. "-as atonement for your actions earlier. your actions against our lord, and the effect they had on me."
he squeezes your face gently, and you open your mouth in understanding of his request immediately. you stick your tongue out, much like you did when you teased him with that fry earlier, and you see his breathing quicken as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before him with your tongue out.
"to earn forgiveness, you will take responsibility for the effect you have had on my body - then, we shall set you on the path of righteousness."
with that, he places the tip of his cock onto your outstretched tongue. you shudder at the taste of him, before swirling your tongue around his tip diligently, earning yourself a shuddering groan from the friar above you. he slides his hands from your face and his cock, and slides one into your hair, resting the other against the kitchen counter behind him.
with errol's hand no longer holding his cock, you can now take it in your own, holding the weight of him in your palm as you lavish attention to his sensitive tip with your tongue. this is not how you imagined apologising to the friar by any means, but you're certainly not complaining - not with the sounds you're eliciting from him, the shuddering breaths and low, pleasured murmurs.
when you finally wrap your lips around his cock properly, he lets out a low, sinful moan, and his grip in your hair tightens.
"you - you undo me." he manages to breathe out, his voice strained and his cheeks flushed once more. for someone who tries to be so commanding and virtuous, friar errol is certainly not used to this level of sexual desire or attention.
"you ruin me." he continues, as you take his cock in your mouth fully, letting him slip into your throat rhythmically, up and down. your hand slides in tandem with your mouth all the while.
"every time i see you in the kitchen - oh - you ruin me. you make me - ngh - think things that no holy man should ever think of. not on a mission such as my own."
his grip in your hair tightens even more.
"but i know you do not mean to be so unholy." he says, hips moving a little to meet the sucking of your lips. "i know you are simply misled, a lost sheep that needs guidance. let me be your shepherd, little lamb."
you nod eagerly, the action causing his cock to shift in your throat, making it constrict around him as you gag. he moans.
"i will not let you undo my hard work." he grits out. "i will make you see the light, worship him as i do. i will make you - make you worship me, as i worship him."
this time, it's you who moans, the vibrations around his cock making his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his hand gripping the kitchen counter behind him like a lifeline. when he opens his eyes again, hazy and filled with lust, they meet your own - wide, and bleary at taking him so deeply into your throat. he smiles down at you condescendingly.
"does that appeal to you, little lamb? is worshipping my - ah, worshipping my cock the only thing that can convince you to repent?"
you nod again. hearing the friar say something so vulgar in that smooth baritone of his makes your own arousal ache. a small smile plays at the corners of your open lips, and he smirks - or perhaps, sneers.
"of course." he croons down at you, as though he pities you. "you would need something so shameless to help you understand - sinner."
sinner. he spits the word out like he truly means it, like it's a curse - and yet, it makes his cock throb in your mouth and a whine rise in your throat. for a moment, he doesn't speak, simply groaning under his breath as you move your head up and down on his shaft, but as his own pleasure grows, he pulls you off of him, not wanting it to end too soon, his cock slipping from your mouth with a lewd suckle.
"you said you were here to atone." he breathes, heavily. your cheek is hot, as his equally flushed member slaps filthily against it, wet with your own saliva.
"yes, friar." you whisper, your voice breathy and your breathing laboured from sucking cock. he's never heard you so worked up, and it goes straight to his arousal. his voice is a commanding growl when he next speaks.
"then beg." he urges, an almost ferocity in his eyes. "beg for our lord's forgiveness. beg for my forgiveness, and maybe you can be saved."
for a moment, you're silent - not because you don't want to beg him, but because you do want to beg, so badly. you don't think you've ever been so turned on in your life, and it takes a moment for you to collect yourself before you can even muster up any words.
you clasp your hands together, like you're begging - or, indeed, praying to him - and he gasps. it's subtle, and inaudible, but you see him take in that sharp breath, and feel his cock twitch against your cheek again.
"please, friar." you whisper up at him, your voice shaky, needy, and undeniably aroused. his breathing is absolutely ragged, now. "forgive me. please forgive me for my sins. help me be pure, like you. please."
you hear him whisper a quiet "oh lord", and he inhales and exhales slowly, before looking down at you with undeniable hunger.
"good. very well."
that's all it takes for him to guide his member back into your mouth, and tangle both hands in your hair, forcing you to take him to the hilt. you yelp in surprise, but it's muffled by him in your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut, small tears escaping through the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. you hear him breathing heavily above you for a moment, like he can barely restrain himself, and you don't pull off of him.
"are you - are you alright?" he grits out, and you nod as best you can. he feels the motion, and he sighs quietly.
"good. keep your hands like that. if it... if it gets too much, you must do something. tap me, shake your head, pull away. anything - i will understand. alright?"
you nod again, grateful that errol's taking your safety and comfort into account, even at a time like this. it's unexpectedly caring, from someone who was calling you a sinner so vehemently earlier. you don't have a lot of time to think about it, though, before he's thrusting his hips against your face with vigour, fucking your mouth in a way most unholy for a friar such as himself. you try your best to breathe through your nose as he violates your mouth so desperately, your hands clasped together obediently all the while, mimicking prayer in a way you know turns him on.
you gag around him many times, and yet, the lewd spluttering and gagging sounds only spur on the friar more. it feels as though every sexual desire errol's ever had has been finetuned into this moment, as he thrusts his hips desperately, like he's dreamed of doing every time he's seen you strutting around the kitchen in just a t-shirt and nothing more.
he thinks about how many times he's fantasised about having you on your knees like this, having you confess to him, beg him. he thinks about how many times he's seen you eating in the kitchen, your t-shirt ridden all the way up to your waist as you sit cross-legged on a chair at the table, baring your legs, your thighs, your underwear to him - all the while, licking grease from your lips and fingers sinfully. you've never once considered that your late night fried food eaten in your sleep shirt with messy hair and tired eyes would ever be sexy in any way, but it's left errol pent up for weeks, maybe even more - and now, he can finally let loose all of that pent up desire.
it doesn't take long before he's close - he may be an exacting lover, but that makes him no less sensitive to sexual pleasure, being that he's less experienced than he lets on. his breathing is heavy, and his moans and groans have picked up in both frequency and intensity, each one sending a rush of arousal to your core. his hips stutter and thrust more erratically, and his voice is choked and breathless.
"oh lord - oh, lord-"
he cums down your throat desperately, whispering prayers all the while, and you keep your eyes squeezed shut, trying to swallow all of his cum as best you can. every swallow, every constriction of your throat, makes him moan above you, and for a while he simply holds you there, your nose pressed flush against his pelvis as he empties himself into your willing throat.
when he pulls away finally, you gasp for air, and he keeps his hands in your hair - but more gently, now, with less force. he watches you catch your breath, an expression akin to utter disbelief on his face, like he can scarcely believe what he just did. he slides one hand from your hair to your cheek, and brushes a thumb against the corner of one of your eyes, swiping away a tear that's gathered there. there's something soft in his eyes as he looks down at you on your knees for him, breathing heavily with watery eyes and flushed cheeks, but he masks it quickly as you finally speak, grinning.
"so?" you ask, your voice slightly hoarse. "have i earned your forgiveness?"
errol pulls away from you, and tucks his softening cock back into his garments beneath his robes. he pauses for a moment in consideration, before nodding decisively.
"it was... sufficient, yes."
you raise an eyebrow. he doesn't elaborate any further, simply offering you his hand to help you up from the kitchen floor. you take it, and stand, stumbling a little, but he's surprisingly strong, and keeps you steady as you collect yourself. you both look sufficiently spent, sufficiently breathless, and for the third time, you go to speak - and he interrupts you.
"i must pray." he says, clearing his throat in a way you could swear is slightly bashful. "but you will return another time, yes?"
it's a stupid question - of course, you'll return to your own kitchen another time - but you don't tell him that. you simply nod.
"of course."
"good." he says immediately, smiling faintly. it's the first ever genuine smile you've ever received from friar errol, and you think it makes him look quite handsome. he turns to the kitchen counter behind him, and picks up a book of some kind, handing it to you. you look at him, confused.
"you said you would let me guide you." he explains, as you take the book. "after your atonement. and you have indeed atoned, so now, let us start you on the path of righteousness - the path to our most benevolent and perfect lord of convection. i look forward to our next devotional."
you don’t get a chance to question him before he's walking away, humming some kind of hymn under his breath with a satisfied expression on his face. you look down at the book in your hands he just gave you.
A/N: I read the request wrong wtf 😔 more coming soon sorry guys........ ❤︎ ya!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I totally see Mateo as a Soft dom. He isn’t super dominant, but he also isn’t very submissive either. He's a healthy mid of them both!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Cuddle fucker 100%
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Ride him and he malfunctions…
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He LOVES to hold you while you bounce on him. He paws at your hips like he trying to pull you off, but you know better than to stop.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Mating Press is also a position Mateo frequents. You love to feel his soft voice tickle your ear in a whisper… even if your legs are starting to ache.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pampers you non-stop. You’re ALWAYS comfortable, even outside of sex. He loves to have you depend on him.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Probably starts to tear up when he’s close— you just feel too good!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ whimpers… whaaat who said that ahahahaaaa.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ lwk likes to be edged… woah wind is strong today!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Kisses you like he’ll never see you again. His kisses are rough and telling, they contrast the soft touches and movements of his hands.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Total munch. Loves to bury his face down between your thighs. He grabs you from the ass and pulls you impossibly closer to his tongue.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Probably an ass man…
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He’d never purposely hurt you, Mateo hates to see you in discomfort. But sometimes, very rarely, he loses himself in between your legs. He can’t help it, really!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 6 Inches. Curved upward… #E0A38E
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Cant get enough of your legs. Probably one of his most favorite parts of you, even though he loves every part of you.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ And he doesn’t fail to remind you of that. Soft aftercare is his specialty. Water, pillows, food, anything you ask for, he provides.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･He’ll hug you from behind, hands squeezing your sore sides as he whispers soft praises into your ear.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ He loves you, and he’ll make sure you know it.
fem!reader ⸝ sexual content ⸝ mentions of anxiety ⸝ cam is a warning himself ⸝ reader is inexperienced ⸝ heated make out session ⸝ thigh riding ⸝ teasing ⸝ dirty talk ⸝ neck kissing & biting ⸝ slight degradation ⸝ nipple play ⸝ light choking ⸝ manhandling
to put it simply, you were an anxious person.
it didn’t help that you now had a house full of sentient objects, each of them possessing varying personalities.
you got along with some of them, the ones who kept to themselves mostly, not seeming to mind that you weren’t one for talking.
of course, there were a few who didn’t quite understand why you were so, well, distant.
deep down, you wished you had the confidence to talk to them all, to not have this aching feeling of anxiety at every moment of your life.
however, what shocked you the most, was that out of everyone, your trash can seemed to be most normal with you.
cam wasn’t very talkative upon first meeting him, which honestly made things better for you overall.
the two of you would have small conversations whenever you’d offer him another piece of trash, usually consisting of cam rambling about the item.
it wasn’t much, and it surely wasn’t anything more then friendship — but, you’d grown fond of him, in your own way.
there were not expectations when talking to him, no worry of offending him (besides that one time you indirectly called him gross, but he let it slide), just someone you could confide in when you were wandering the house.
cam didn’t hate your company, he probably enjoyed it the most out of anyone.
he picked up on your anxiousness quite quickly, your body language spoke louder than the way you’d fumble over your words.
there was one time, however, where he made the slightest flirty gesture towards you.
“back again, already? seems you can’t get enough of the can.”
it was harmless in his head, something to make you smile or even giggle.
but what he didn’t expect was to see your face beet red, eyes wide while you practically choked on your words.
you didn’t talk to him for three days after that.
not because you weren’t into him, but because you were.
you’d spent those three days repeating what he said in your mind, analyzing his tone, his body language — absolutely everything.
was he into you? or were you overthinking it entirely?
well, you couldn’t avoid him forever, so you just prayed he wouldn’t mention it.
unluckily for you, cam couldn’t wait until you two talked again.
if just a small pick up line like that had you flustered?
oh, he was going to have fun with you.
the next time you went into the kitchen, dateviators snug on your face, he was already there waiting for you.
“thought i scared you off the other day.”
“s—sorry, ‘m just not used to um, well—,”
“people flirting with you?”
you nodded, trying to avoid eye contact with cam as his eyes were practically glued to you.
“hm, shocking.”
“what— what do you mean?”
“well, you’re hot, so it’s just shocking no one’s tried doing it to you.”
if you could’ve melted to the floor, you’d be a puddle.
“c—cam,”
cam took a few towards you, his body invading ounce of your personal space, towering over you.
yet, you didn’t move.
your eyes peered up for just a second, locking with his before looking away.
“y’know how hard it’s been for me? not seeing you for days?”
“i—i’m sorry.”
“yeah? you’re sorry?”
his hand cupped your chin, tilting it upwards so you were forced to look at him.
even then, you tried to avoid his eyes, darting your own to the wall next to him.
“c’mon, look at me.” his voice was laced with nothing but amusement, enjoying how much he was able to work you up.
finally, you met his gaze, pupils dilating at the mere sight of cam being so close to you.
cam guided his thumb to your lower lip, tugging the flesh as he swiped it across.
“anyone ever kiss you before?” he teased, a knowing grin on his face.
you squinted your eyes at him, pouting slightly.
“i’m not that inexperienced.”
“sure you aren’t, babe.”
he leaned down towards you, his face now inches away from yours.
your body felt hot, a lump forming in your throat as cam’s lips brushed against yours.
“do you wanna kiss me?”
“j—just do it already!” you yelped out, eyes closing in preparation.
“nah, you gotta tell me you want it.”
god, he was going to be the death of you.
“please— please kiss me.”
and with that, his lips pressed against yours.
you quickly realized cam wasn’t gentle, hell he was far from it.
the kiss was nothing but a mix of teeth and tongue battling each other, and all you could was sit there, whining against his lips.
all you could taste was cam and the blood oozing from your lips, lips bruised and red from just how rough he was.
his hands were everywhere — your waist, your hips, even your chest.
cam pulled away for just a moment, admiring how worn out you already looked.
without a thought, you reached out towards cam, pleading him to envelop you once again.
“already want more? how needy.”
so once more, he took your lips, somehow even more aggressive than the last time.
one of his hands trailed to your neck, squeezing it lightly to test the waters.
with the way you moaned against him, he took that as a sign to leave the hand there.
cam’s free hand tittered with hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly to expose your bare skin.
the feeling of his hand made you pull away from his lips, heavy breaths pushing past your lips.
“c—cam,”
“fuck—, c’mere.”
he grabbed hold of your wrist, dragging you along with him to the couch.
you watched him sit down, legs spreading as his arms stretched against the back of the couch.
“um—.”
cam patted his thigh, a certain glint in his eyes while he did so.
for a second, you didn’t move, that anxious feeling clawing at your back once again.
“i c—can’t,”
“don’t get shy on me now, babe.”
you shook away all the thoughts for now, cautiously approaching where cam was, settling yourself on his lap.
cam’s hands went to your waist, manhandling your body so it was sat atop his thigh.
“w—what are you—!”
with his sheer strength alone, he moved your body across his thigh, watching as you shot your hands up to his shoulders.
“you like that?”
when you didn’t reply, he did it again, harder this time.
your head fell into the crook of cam’s neck, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.
“nah, don’t do that.”
cam tangled one of his hands in your hair, gently pulling your head up.
he sat you still for a moment, observing you quietly.
you shifted on his thigh, attempting to gain just an ounce of friction back on your clothed warmth, desperate for the stimulation again.
he threw his arms behind his head, eyes trained on the way you squirmed nervously against him, not knowing what you should do.
you knew you wanted more — you needed more.
so, you looked up at cam with those desperate eyes of yours, begging him to tell you to do something.
“p—please, cam—,”
“sound cute when you’re beggin’, babe.”
his hands didn’t come back to your waist though, and for a second, you were confused.
the man sighed, bouncing his thigh to knock your head straight.
“i gotta spell it out for you? ride my thigh.”
“r—ride it? like myself?”
“what? too embarrassin’ for ya?”
you shook your head, hands bracing on his shoulders before starting to move with slow, cautious strokes.
in just a few seconds, you were an absolute whining mess — rutting against cam’s thigh like a bitch in heat.
it took everything within cam to not pin you down right there and fuck his cock into you.
but, that was something for another day.
he needed to get you used to every little feeling he was giving you right now, his own selfish needs could wait.
“w—want, fuck—.” you finally managed to get something other whines past your lips, hooded eyes staring down at cam.
“hm? you want somethin’, babe?”
“touch me— wan’ you to touch m—me.”
oh, cam couldn’t help how wide he grinned at your words, thoroughly enjoying the way you slowly broke down in front of you.
he’d make you just as filthy as him in due time.
“so fuckin’ greedy when you’re worked up.”
“n—no—,”
“no? just look at yourself—,”
his hands were on you in an instant — one on your waist while the other snuck up your shirt, teasing the flesh of your tit.
“that’s—!”
“one fuckin’ touch from me ‘n you’re a mess.”
he wasn’t wrong, you knew he wasn’t.
but, even you couldn’t comprehend how depraved you were acting.
something was boiling up inside you, setting your entire body on fire.
“c—cam, feel s—so—!”
“you gettin’ close?”
“y—yes, yes!”
cam took this as sign to take your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging at it while he leaned forward, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck.
every single touch he left on you only made you edge closer and closer to your high, eyes squeezing shut as you could only let of whines of his name.
“yeah, that’s it — fall apart for me, babe.”
then, he dug his teeth in your flesh, sucking on the area like his life depended on it.
you couldn’t contain yourself any longer, your movements on cam’s thigh were erratic, nails digging into the flesh of his neck.
“cam—, ‘m gonna—,”
“cum for me, slut.”
cam cursed himself for letting that slip out, peering up at you quickly in case it caught you off guard.
what he didn’t expect to hear was the borderline pornographic moan you let out, head thrown back as you came all over his thigh.
now the man couldn’t stop talking as you came — it was like a lock came undone from your reaction.
“yeah, make a fuckin’ mess all over me.”
you went to slow down, but cam didn’t let you, his hands glued themselves to your waist to keep you moving.
“nah, we aren’t stopping now,”
“c—cam—, i can’t—!”
he slapped your side lightly, making your entire body stop resisting as he forced you to keep going.
“you can, i know you fuckin’ can, babe.”
his lips brushed against your ear, tongue licking the flesh before he whispered to you.
cw: no timothy just timmy, spanking, nsfw, mdni, gn reader
you working remotely was something timmy was eternally grateful for. what was better than having you all to himself! he didn't think, however, that there would still be things taking your attention away from him.
he followed you around all day around the house, trying to get your fullest attention. how could you possibly resist your cutest kitty? it proved to be harder than he thought, seeing you talk with people who weren't him.
you were sitting on the living room bay window, timmy's head in your lap as he basked in the sun. your attention then got stolen by curt & rod, who timmy then glared at as you stood and walked over to the couch to talk to them. he watched as you talked to the pair, his tail curled in on itself in distaste. "how dare master not pay attention to timmy," he grumbled, planning to scratch and tear at the curtains as soon as you were out of view.
which he did. as soon as you had went upstairs to grab something from your bedroom, he quickly pounced and left his claw marks in the bottom of the curtains, taking the tatters and dashing away to hide from the scene of his crime. and you certainly noticed. "timmy!" you groaned, to no one in particular, making him snicker and giggle from his hiding spot.
a little later during the day, after ignoring (and totally not hiding from) you to play with his curtain scraps, timmy decided to be kind and grace you with his presence once more. 'that's enough to teach master a lesson!' he concluded. he carried the frayed scraps in his mouth to present you with his kill, a peace offering for.. you not paying attention to him?
he then found you in the downstairs bathroom, talking to.. jean-loo?! he watched from behind you as you spoke with the frenchman, listening intently to his new music. 'if timmy can call it that..' he let out a muffled hiss before spitting the scraps he brought for you, bolting upstairs to the other bathroom. now all riled up and mad, timmy decided it'd be a wonderous idea to make another mess. throwing around all the rolls of toilet paper, shreds flying around the bathroom and putting more than enough into the upstairs toilet as a real i hate you to jean-loo.
you heard a faint noise from behind you, making you turn, only to see the shreds from your curtains on the floor and a black figure dash upstairs. 'timmy..' you sighed, only to get snapped out of your thoughts by a groan from jean-loo. "mon dieu.. i don't.. feel so good," he clutched his stomach. he was clogged. and you think you knew the culprit.
you rushed upstairs to the other bathroom, only to find a complete mess and the toilet indeed clogged with toilet paper. what you couldn't find, however, was timmy. "timmy, you are in so much trouble!" you called out, eye twitching as you begun to clean up his mess. 'what is his problem..'
he was hiding in the gym closet, rolling around a pingpong ball he found from dunk. he felt extremely accomplished with himself, confident that you had learned your lesson. "that'll teach master to ignore timmy."
dinnertime finally rolled around. timmy's favorite! you always tried to get him the best seafood and supplements to keep him healthy and happy. sure, you spoiled him, but you thought he deserved it! until moments like right now. "timmy, dinner!" he happily went back downstairs, to see you expectedly waiting with your arms crossed. he proudly flicks his tail around your legs, waiting for his meal. "timmy expects master learned their lesson-" he paused as you set his plate down in front of him on the table, his eyes widening at the sight.
what was supposed to be a feast of fresh cooked salmon and shrimp was.. crackers and canned tuna?! he gaped at you in utter disbelief. "w-what is THIS?! no no no no NO!" he hissed, swatting the plate away from him. "this is NOT timmy's food!" you scoffed and quickly grabbed the plate before he broke it completely, "it is when you're being a brat, timmy." your eyes narrow at him, but he refuses to back down. "it- it's all master's fault!" he hissed, tail flicking around. "master ignored timmy all day!"
your eye twitched as you listen to his reasoning. you grabbed his collar to make you look at him. "and that gives you the right to act out?" you lowly asked him, making his front falter. a whimper fell out of the back of his throat, but he doubled down with a nod. "that gives you the right to tear up my curtains and make a mess of my bathroom?" you question, his resolve crumbling. timmy's lip wobbled as he shook his head, his pointy ears flattening. he didn't wanna get lectured.. just your attention, was all!
you let him go before setting his plate down in front of him again. "you are going to eat your dinner, and you are going straight upstairs. do i make myself clear?" you crossed your arms once more, his glassy eyes looking widely at you. he knew he was getting punished. he gently butt his head against your stomach, a feeble attempt at a 'sorry'. you sighed and gave a gentle scratch to his head, making him nod at your request.
he watched as you left him with his meal, turning to glare at his lowly meal. "still master's fault.." he grumbled as he began to eat, earning an 'i heard that!' coming from upstairs.
after slowly eating, trying to take his time, timmy knew he had to face you at some point. begrudgingly pawing upstairs into the bedroom, he found his spot on the bed as he watched you finish your night routine in the bathroom. he curled in a ball at the foot of your bed, round eyes following your figure as you made your way back over to him.
standing over him, his ears slightly flattened and his tail started flicking in anticipation. carding your fingers through his hair, he relaxed and leaned into your hand. "you know you're in trouble, right, timmy?" you asked, earning a quiet huff from him. "but master started it! timmy tried to get master's attention all day! b-but master talked to everyone else instead!" he whined, nuzzling further into your hand. "is timmy not cute enough for master anymore?"
you couldn't help but lightly chuckle at his reasoning, shaking your head as you scratched under his chin. he keened at the attention, relishing in it while he could. "of course you're still my cutest kitty." he nodded with a proud little smile, and a quiet 'yes, timmy is.' you lean forward to bump your forehead against his, just how he does to you. "but you're still in trouble. you've been nothing but a spoiled brat all day, and you know better, timmy.
"you know the rules. clothes off." he sighs and lays his head on the bed in defeat. he rolled over onto his back, peering up at you with his wide kitty eyes as a hail mary. "will master help timmy?" you gave him a deadpan stare, and he knew that was a firm no.
with a gentle huff, timmy pawed at and stripped off his clothes until he was left in his plain white boxer briefs and red bell collar. to your surprise he was already starting to get hard. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaving enough room for timmy to slide in across your lap. "come here, tim." he knew to oblige, his hardening length sinfully pressing into your leg. "you know how this goes, kitty. you're gonna count out your spankings, say what you did wrong, and apologize. under no circumstances are you to cum, not if master doesn't say so." he nodded along, having gotten into many shenanigans under your care. he knew the routine well. "and what do you say if it's too much?" you quizzed, giving a gentle stroke to his head to ease any worries. "t-timmy says 'hourglass', master."
you couldn't help but smile fondly at the naughty kitty in your lap. sure, he was certainly a handful, and maybe you were to blame for spoiling him, but you certainly wouldn't trade anything for your timmy. giving a gentle scratch behind his ears, you continued, "very good, timtim. and what else?" "master is punishing timmy b-because master wants the best for timmy. a-and master still loves timmy very much." you smiled as he recited what you always told him. "i do love you very much, kitty. master thinks fifteen should suffice. are you ready?" you asked, left hand twirling his tail around your fingers making him whine.
with one final nod from timmy, you softly rubbed his covered ass before sliding his underwear down just enough to expose him. you rubbed once more over the bare skin, before striking your palm down with a firm SLAP! timmy cried out with a pained moan, always seeming to enjoy his punishments a little too much. "o-one! timmy was a bad kitty! t-timmy's sorry, master!" you rubbed the skin to soothe him, before striking again. "two!" he yelped, cock twitching against your leg. "t-timmy ruined master's things! tim-timmy's so so sorry!"
it repeated until you reached his last one. SMACK! "f-fifteen," he whimpered out. "t-tim-" he cut himself off with a sob escaping his throat. "last one. deep breaths, tim," you gently remind him. by the last spanking, he was a crying moaning mess. tears ran down his pretty face, but the pain was oh so delicious. he was fully hard and leaking precum, if you did any more than fifteen he surely would've cum in his underwear. he caught his breath as he felt you soothe his bottom with your hand, "t-timmy was a-a spoiled brat," he managed to finish his sentence, "t-timmy's s-sorry, master.. don't- don't be m-mad at timmy anym-more."
having finished with his alloted punishment, you were quick to fix his bottoms and move him off your lap, instead moving to your spot on the bed and beckoning him over. he quickly obliged with his teary face, curling around you for comfort. "did such a good job, tim. my good little kitty, aren't you," you praised, scratching his head in all the places he loved. he basked in your affection, nuzzling his head against your body. "and i'm not mad at you, sweet boy." his ears perked at that. "but you certainly know better than to act that way."
he nodded into your body, completely melting into you. "timmy knows better. timmy won't do it again, master."
all i can say about tony is that put me in a room with him and one of us is leaving pregnant.
(contains: heavy smut, straight up porn with no plot im sorry, tony being a rough yet really sweet dom, doggy style, dirty talk.. yeah you know how it goes.)
Tony had reaaaally high stamina. Despite how exhausted your muscles were and how much your cunt screamed from overstimulation, Tony made sure to hold you up, a strong arm around your stomach or massive hands gripping your hips and delivering a smack at your ass once every few thrusts.
You clutched a pillow to yourself, biting into the corner of the fabric as you struggled to keep yourself quiet. Tony was relentless with how he drilled himself into the warm, tight walls of your sopping cunt. He had already came once, deep inside of you. Tony bit his lip as he watched cum squirt and drip out of you.
"Look at that.. couldn't even keep it all in, eh?" He chuckled, leaning forward and cupping your jaw with his hand. You whined, a strangled mewl leaving your throat as he spanked your ass once more. He cooed an "aww" into your ear at your noises, to which he replied. "I know, I know, pretty girl.. you're doing such a good job.. just sit there and keep those pretty lips open so I can hear you."
He was such an ass sometimes.. You remembered how you got here. An argument. It was over something so stupid. You guys never argued over something serious, it was always stupid shit. You had gotten angry, Tony kept being a little shit and pushing your buttons, and now here you were. Letting him fuck the attitude out of you.
His fingers reached down, his finger and thumb lightly pinching and rubbing your clit, which made you grip the sheets of the bed even tighter. Tony will never forget that beautiful sound you made when he did that. The pleasure of his cock throbbing deep in your gummy walls plus him touching you there.. you were certain you were going to cum again any second now.. which time was it? You had no clue. You don't even remember your name or where you were.
"You're so beautiful like this, hon." He whispered into your ear through small grunts and strangled groans as he struggled to maintain his own composure. "You like when I fuck you like this? Touching you, loving on this pretty little cunt?"
He was too good at this.
You nod pathetically, an incoherent babble leaving your lips. Tony kisses your swollen lips in answer, and he sighs. "Such a sweet girl." He then drops his head onto your shoulder, his moans growing louder as you felt his cock twitch. At the same time, your walls were pulsating tightly around him, and your abdomen felt like a rope was being tightened more and more.. "Fuck- Fuck, I'm gonna cum-" He muttered, his grip on you tightening his and fingers on your clit working faster. "Lemme hear you- Lemme hear you baby-"
You toss your head back, your vision growing white and your body growing red hot. You squealed, your legs growing numb as you collapse on the bed. Your breathing was out of control, labored, and you were spent. Tony wasted no time in shushing you, wrapping strong arms around you and pulling you to him. He pressed kisses to your cheek and neck, murmuring soothing and loving things to you as he rode out his own orgasm. He was soft again, in both ways. (Just kidding.)
Tony sighs, a satisfied smile on his face. ".. I love you so much, sweet girl."
amir bending u over n making u watch urself in the mirror :3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
it was no secret that amir adored you - so it didn’t really surprise you when that bled into how he treats you during sex.
he bends you over the bathroom sink - or perhaps your dresser - anywhere that has a mirror for him to force your gaze towards.
“look at you,” he purrs as he drags himself in and out of you at a tantalizingly slow pace. “such beautiful faces you make, azizam.”
he holds your chin, making sure that the only thing your eyes can focus on is your reflection. he coaxes your back into an arch, ensuring that you feel every inch of him.
if your eyes dare to look elsewhere - perhaps to the side out of embarrassment, or at his reflection instead - he halts his movements with an “ah ah, look”, until you fix your gaze.
and if you dared to try and close your eyes altogether, well, now he’s just offended. “mh? oh, don’t want to look at all at my lovely reflections?” instead of stopping like usual, he’d just go harder, practically bullying your g-spot so much that your eyes have no choice but to squeeze themselves shut from the pace. “you don’t want to look, then i’ll make sure you couldn’t even if you changed your mind.”
he treats you so well afterwards, of course; his aftercare involving no shortage of praise and gentle cleaning, but you’ll still never be able to look at yourself in a mirror without his voice echoing in your mind.
