#lackie lacking

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When he's not a rich, immortal vampire doctor who bought and named an island just for you-

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Giving a twilight vampire a blow job would suck-

No pun intended...

The rock-hard, stronger-than-diamond skin of an appendage that is *god knows* how heavy, considering the fact that Bella can't even lift Edward's hand without his help, and the balls are just hitting you in the chin? It's like a stress ball of death. Or at least a broken jaw-

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Shut up and look at these high-quality photos of Emmett

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Sero hitting from behind with no hands while smoking a blunt-

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Idk, I just feel like riding Emmett in the backseat of his jeep while Dutch Melrose blasts over the aux would fix me🤷‍♀️

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Tate would totally grab at your ankles when your feet hung off the bed and/or make creepy noises from under your bed before he ever revealed himself to you after you moved into the Murder House.

Not for any reason other than he thought it was funny to act as your very own "monster under the bed".

He only admits it after you've known about him for a while and he definitely had to phase out of solidity when he first revealed this to you in order to avoid the slipper that was thrown at his face.

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Not proofread, or thought out. I just opened the draft and started writing after getting the idea from a gc. Everybody say, "Thank you, Paws!"

@pawspurpaw @alecvolturi @kiiwiigii

It happened because of a joke. A pretty low tier joke too-

You had brought home a new collar for that damned dog of yours, only to jokingly put it on and run off to find him with the sole purpose of hitting him with a singular, 'Woof'. Once you saw you weren't getting more than an unamused, deadpan stare, you had turned tail (ha) and ventured off to put it on the actual dog. What you hadn't known was that the expressionless stare wasn't because Alec is a wet blanket, rather, it was due to the system reboot he had to go through when the sight of that strip of leather around your delicate throat sent a shockwave through him and ignited a primal sort of heat within him.

All of that to explain what brings us to the current scene: you on your hands and knees as Alec pounds into you from behind. His hand is wrapped with the thin cord of a delicate silver leash connected to a pretty pink collar that he's buckled securely around your neck. He uses his hold on the lead to tug and pull you back as you try to squirm away from the overstimulation.

Between your thighs is a sticky mess of your arousal and his cum. It drips obscenely to the silk sheets below as you cry out about it being too much despite the fact that you can feel that all too familiar coiling deep in your tummy.

"Too much?" Alec mocks, giving a harsh tug and momentarily cutting your oxygen intake off. "If it's too much, why are you clenching like you're about to cream all over my cock again?"

Your cheeks burn with a mixture of arousal, humiliation, and exertion. It's a little shameful to admit that it has you teetering even closer to the edge.

"That's it, pet, submit. Submit to the feeling. You're *mine*- My mate. My toy. My pet-" he growls low in his chest as his buries himself deep in you, spilling one last round of cum into your already flooded womb.

Your arms are shaky, your legs jelly, your messy cunt puffy from abuse. And yet you feel yourself tumble over the peak once more. Your arms finally go out and you collapse face first into the sheets, ignoring how the collar digs uncomfortably into the skin of your neck as you strain against the firm grip he holds on the leash. Your mind goes blank as you let out a choked version of his name.

You swear your vision blacks out and your ears are ringing, but through the muffled sound of the world slowly fading back in, you here, "That's my girl... my good, little pet."

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He's fucking you from behind when he suddenly pulls out and flips you to your back because he "wants to look at his girl".