#day-late thots

[jynzandtonic]

On this fine Tonic Tuesday Z, brah, pal, I ask you to pls tell us about Goblin!Sackler fingering his partner whilst running that filthy mouth 🙏🤲

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be finger-fucked by that little shithead... *sigh* Please accept these Sackler thots.

(cw: light verbal debasement / name-calling)

“Never felt a tighter fuckin’ pussy,” he rasps in your ear.

Your slick cunt squelches around the fingers he pumps inside you—he had to start with just one, but now he’s worked you up to two.

He thinks you can take another.

A needy moan tears from your chest when he crams a third finger inside you, curling all three upwards to grate against your g-spot.

“Dirty little whore.” He nips at the juncture of your neck and shoulders. “You want the whole fucking building to hear you?”

“N-no,” you whimper, cunt clamping around him. “Aah fffuck…”

“Well I do,” he grins. “You walk in here looking so cute, but they should know what a slut you really are.”

“Adam, I—”

He brings the heel of his palm to your clit, grinding it harshly as he drags his fingers against your front wall. It sends fire straight through your core, pulling your body tight like a bowstring.

“Go on, cum for me,” he snarls. “Let’s wake up some fuckin’ neighbors.”

[jynzandtonic]

hi z, happy tonic tuesday! what are your thots on fucking a very touch starved rick smolan?

Ugh, I LOVE this shit. Sweet anon, please accept these Rick thots.

He’s been gone for so long—across the ocean, sleeping under the stars, only his camera lenses for company. 

You skip work to pick him up at the airport. You tell him you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

It’s the way his body softens like warm honey when your arms wrap around him—that’s how he knows he’s really back. 

He kisses the breath out of you, not pulling away till you’re gasping for each other.

Steam swirls from the shower as you strip each other bare, kissing every inch you expose. He trembles at your touch, swaths of goosebumps traveling over the planes of his skin. 

He moans as the stream of hot water washes over him, as you press your body against his—but it’s not enough. He needs all of you, he needs to be inside you. 

Hitching your leg up over his hip, he drives his thick cock into you in one swift stroke, pushing your body up against the wall as he molds himself to you. 

Your cunt welcomes him home—hot and wet and stretched so wide—and you lick into his mouth, running your fingertips over his neck, his arms, his back. His chest pressed flush against your tits, he thrusts into you desperately, gasping each time he buries himself inside you.

It’s the way he floods your tight channel with his hot cum, his whole body shaking with euphoria—that’s how you know he’s really back.  

[jynzandtonic]

So we know Matt plays dnd, how wild would he go if his S/O dressed up as their fantasy charecter or just a fantasy charecter for some real life dungeon master times?

Okay, I’ve gotta be honest--I actually don’t know dick about Dungeons & Dragons. I should probably consult with @callmehopeless​ on the subject because they know allll about that shit (HOPE! WHAT DnD THING WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO FUCK?! ~asking for a friend~) However, I did google a bunch of species and classes and can confirm I know what an elf is. Lolz. 

Please accept these Matt thots.

He’s been fucking livid since you interrupted his campaign last Thursday.

He cut all the charging cords for your vibes and spat in your cereal on Friday morning. You thought he might come home from work in a better mood if you sent him some pictures of your tits, and he did--but only because decided to ruin your orgasm and get cum in your hair shortly afterward. 

It’s been the Cold War all week, and you’re racking your brain for an appropriate peace offering. The yogurt-covered blueberries you bought for Greg, his chinchilla, were accepted with a pleased grunt, though you knew they weren’t enough.

And then the idea strikes you. A few clicks and some card info later, you’ve got yourself a plan.

You sit patiently on the couch while Matt holes up in his office, barking orders over Discord, making up for time lost last week. You’ll be good until he’s done. You’re not even sure what time it is when he finally emerges.

He clomps down the hallway on a quest for microwaveable pizza rolls, but he stops dead when he sees you.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, hawk-eyed behind his wire-rimmed glasses. 

“Oh, just a little something I picked out for you,” you smile, smoothing your hands over the preposterously short suede skirt and adjusting your tits in the moss-green corset top.

You drop the hood of your emerald cape, revealing the pointy ears you’d carefully fixed on yourself.

The long bulge along his thigh isn’t hard to notice in the grey fabric of his jumpsuit.

“I forgive you,” he says brusquely. “And I’m fucking you until you forget how old you are.”