Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

I was walking around the neighborhood one day and suddenly came across this tree with a branch the formed a spiral

price x throat training send twt!

price telling the wedding planner that he wants a thirty minute “interval” after the ceremony, before the reception, so you two “can just soak in being newly weds together and have a break from everyone around us fussing” when really he wants thirty minutes so he can bend you over the top table

Jujutsu Kaisen (2020-)

they invented a new salad named dont be scared everything will work out

ghost who’s cock is so big he sits in bed with you for hours, just rocking his hips happily back and forth as you watch your movie on the laptop just so you can learn to get used to the size of it.

‘s’just practice-‘ is always his excuse, and you can’t blame him. it does infact feel good when he just crumbles atop you and practically kills you with his big body, cock gently sheathing in and out of your cunt.

it’s easier to get used to, afterall.

Gaz the type of guy to say ‘we’ll look back at this and laugh’ as a genuine attempt to soothe you while you’re gagged in the backseat

!! female reader; dirty talking; breeding kink; slight overstim play; unrealistic sex x’>

thinking about how simon’s the type to keep saying filth to you when he’s balls deep. how, in the throes of his pleasure, so pussy-drunk, simon begins to wax poetry about the way you make him feel.

he’s got you folded in a mating press, his lips ghosting wet kisses along your trembling legs. “god, baby,” simon murmurs, his voice a drunken slur. “i need t’wife you up, i swear.” he punctuates this with a thrust, before his fingers pinch your clit.

you choke at the feeling, your legs kicking from where they’re slung over simon’s shoulders. your head thrashes against the pillow, not knowing how else to tether yourself from the stinging pleasure, your mouth falling open uselessly as garbled moans spill out.

“oh this,” he says, distracted by your reaction. “cute little thing, isn’t it?” he looks at your pussy almost with a starry-eyed gaze.

jesus-

“shu-ut up, si!” your voice breaks, weakened from the moans, but simon’s already looking too far gone, his eyes blown wide and his face flushed because of his pleasure.

“y’just squeezed me tighter, baby.” simon rips his eyes from your cunt to look at you with a sort of giddy trance. “y’like it when i play with–” he circles his thumb on your clit, making you squeal. “this? yeah? oh, lovie, you’re gushing.”

he pulls out, torturously slow, teasing, then he’s slamming back in. your ears ring at the resounding wet slide, his pelvis meeting your own with a goddamn squelch, and you scream, clawing at his back at the sharp pleasure that razes through you.

“going t’stuff you w’my cum everyday, baby.” simon giggles. “going t’make you so full.”

he nuzzles his nose on the side of your tear-soaked cheek. “y’want that, yeah? want t’feel sore because of how much cum’s stored in you? want t’be fucked until it takes?”

what-

“si! si!” you cry, mushy mind trying to understand what he’s insinuating. “wha- wh-…?”

“oh but you’d be so gorgeous, baby,” simon groans, his hand leaving your oversensitive clit to hike up along your body, dancing past your groin to plant just below your belly button. simon nuzzles close again, tracing the shell of your ear with his lips, then, “you’d be so pretty carrying my kids.”

those words make your body lock up, something in your mind just shifting right, and then you’re cumming, squirting all over simon’s cock and spraying on his legs.

simon outright moans, pulling back just enough to slot his lips against yours. you couldn’t even kiss him back, still so busy cumming, all cross-eyed at the intensity of your orgasm. it doesn’t matter to him, anyway, not when simon begins pistoning harder. faster. rougher.

every drag of his cock back in your pussy pushes more gushing squirt from you, and simon rumbles with a pleased groan, looking so blissed out as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. you dig your nails at his back but simon doesn’t even register the prickling pain, too busy chasing his own orgasm through your cunt.

“s’right,” he coos. “nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. nothin’ else but y’r pretty pussy. y’r tight pussy. god, it’s such a delicious pussy, baby, how am i so lucky to have you, huh?” his words mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of his body slamming against your own. it makes you dizzy with pleasure, ragged rasps of breath is all that is passing through your parted lips.

simon croons. “how’d i chance luck and end up w’such a delight?” another wet sound from your pussy rings amidst his words. “mmm, hear that baby?”

you nod, you think. or you moan a reply. honestly, you don’t even know, not with how dizzy you are at the peaking pleasure because there’s no way you’re cumming again–

“that’s the sounds that a happy wife makes,” simon purrs, replying to his own question, and the weight of his words washes over you like the pleasure that’s racing across your synapses. “that’s the sound that someone makes when they want to be bred.”

“simo-nnnnn!” you scream, the sound guttural and ragged, and your eyes can no longer see anything, and your ears are ringing, and- and–

simon laughs, the sound curling into something so, so fond. “y’r so pretty when y’cum, baby.” he kisses your wet cheek. “one more? f’r me?”

fuck-

my brain rumbles with johnny mactavish a/b/o thoughts

medically discharged alpha johnny with an overgrown beard who relocates to a farm in the highlands in frustration, angry that he’s physically inept now, bullet to the head ruining some of his motor functions, fucks with his memory.

and you, the omega who moved into the abandoned neighboring farmhouse a few weeks ago, stopping by to introduce yourself— asking him if he has any tips on fixing the barbed fencing around your property.

and yeah, his hands shake in uncoordinated movements these days, and he has a hard time judging distance and picking out the right words— but there’s a deep ache in him that he can’t forget.

and he knows of it as clear as he breathes, damaged brain all but likened to a discussion about the weather.

he remembers the sweetness of an omega on his tongue, and you’re right in front of him.