So Pretty 😭😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰

When you do write, what do you write? I saw requests are open so was wondering. Thanks!

Just about all things besides abuse, too much detailed gore, CP, stuff like that

I can do fanfics, Character HCs, Smut, Omegaverse, and so on. Honestly, I haven't read something I wouldn't write about

Hope this helps!

Give me more! Now! Hmph.

Thinking horny thoughts about Minotaurs so here’s a lazy Drabble

Cw: m/f, breeding kink

Male!minotaur god of agricultural x Female!human offering

your villages crops are failing. If it continues there won’t be enough to store for winter. In the face of a grueling winter and the real possibility of starvation, the villagers turn to the god of agriculture. They choose you as the offering. They lathering you in sweet smelling oils and dress you in the finest scarlet dress the village possesses. Gold necklaces are clasped around your neck, silver bracelets slipped onto your wrists. A crown of wildflowers rested on your brow.

You’re paraded through the village while neighbors, family, and friends gather on the streets chanting prayers and singing hymns to catch the God’s attention.

You’re left standing alone in a barren field One of the many your village had tried and failed to cultivate. The light of the full moon bathing you in its silvery light.

It doesn’t take long before He’s towering over you. He was magnificent.

“Do you know what this ritual entails?”

What do you say to a God? How do you say it? So you don’t answer. At least, not with words. Without looking away from the God before you, you lower yourself to the ground. Dress pooled around your waist, you spread your thighs and bear your sex to His hungry eyes.

He spends hours between your legs. Alternating between opening you up on his thick fingers and dragging his large, hot tongue along the seam of your cunt. He pushes you to the edge of ecstasy, only to reel you back in.

Your thighs are slick with the proof of your need. You feel wetness steadily leak from your cunt onto your ass. He slides his hips in between your thighs, the blunt head of his cock teasing your slick entrance.

“You’re ready. Know that if we do this I will spill inside. My seed will take and you will become pregnant. Do you understand?”

You nod. God, you understood. You wanted it more than you wanted anything else.

“Say it.”

“I want it, please. I-I need it. I need it so bad,” you sobbed, frustrated tears streaming down your cheeks. He had spent so long teasing you, you’d absolutely die without release. You nearly screamed in relief when He began slowly fucking into you. He was so thick. Even with all the preparation you felt every inch of Him splitting you open.

“Such a greedy cunt you have,” He grunted, “taking me so well. Begging for my cock so prettily. I’ll give it to you. Give you anything. Everything.”

It doesn’t take long before you felt an orgasm rip it’s way through you. Your vision blacks out as a wrecked scream tore from your throat. You felt his cock pulse, spilling hot seed into your starved cunt.

When you finally came back to your body you noticed that the once barren field was now filled with healthy vegetation.

“Your village will one day be the capital of a mighty and prosperous kingdom. Our children’s children will sit at it’s head and one day pass their crown to the heads of their children. But that is a conversation for later,” he pulled you close, enveloping you in a strong embrace, “now, we rest.”

UGH I need some more Seth clearwater or Paul Lahote x M!Reader 😫 I've read just about all I can on here and I NEED MORE ‼️

💓💓💓💓

Spencer smiling down at his phone

Morgan: So, who's the lucky girl??

Spencer: ... Who said it was a girl?

Morgan: Pause, rewind, WHAT?

"guys I do not condone any of this in real life" "this is fiction" "consent is key. this is only fiction" "murder is bad irl" — I wish fanfic authors didn't feel like they had to clarify this in author's notes or else they might be accused of being abusers or worse (I admit that such disclaimers are also something I personally use for my own stuff because I feel like I had to make it clear). like... people used to not care if an author wrote dead dove fics because people used to understand that ao3 fics are not a reflection of someone's in real life views or morality in any way. people used to understand that fanfics mean what they mean; fan fiction. none of it is real. maybe it's purity culture that normalizes witch hunt and censorship in the past couple years, and therefore authors feel like they have to clarify that just because they write about violence or noncon stuff doesn't mean they're murderers or sex offenders in real life. and I think it sucks that these things (purity and cancel culture?) have made authors feel like they have to apologize for the art they created instead of being proud of their hard work and all the dedication they put into creating these art. artists should not have to feel like they have to apologize for creating art that isn't all rainbow and sunshine. artists should not have to be made to feel ashamed of their own art if it's not all rainbow and sunshine.

I don’t agree with the “you can write noncon and dark fics as long as you make sure your readers get the message that these things are bad” or “you can write noncon and dark fics if it’s your way of coping with your trauma” take either. because writers do not owe you anything. the message writers want to send to their readers — whatever that message may be, if there’s any message or moral of the story for readers to take from the stories at all — is none of your business. why writers write what they write is none of your business. remember “don’t like don’t read”. no one forces you to read anything you don’t like. dark and noncon fics are a form of creative writing and creative writing is a form of art. you can’t pressure artists into creating art that “fit your moral compass” nor can you apply your own moral compass to artists to determine if they can create dark art or not, if their reasoning behind creating dark art passes your moral compass. like… what artists create and why artists create are none of your business. and you don’t get to shame artists for creating art that you hate / art that disgusts you. what you can do is ignore the art because it clearly was not made for you and that’s okay. what isn’t okay is you harassing artists because you don’t like the things they created.

writers, embrace and be proud of your works. as long as all the trigger warnings are tagged properly, you have nothing to apologize for.

Paul Lahote x Male!FTM! Reader

Tw: Cursing, MDNI/Smut, Scarring on body (Top surgery scars that botched), insecure Reader (if you squint), Reader isn't fully transitioned, anal, mentions of stuff in the front

You have been wracking Paul's damn brain since he met you last week. He can't even function if you're around, he just has to watch you like a lost puppy, and you haven't even noticed! Sadly for him, the pack has and they don't ever hold back.

Yesterday, Paul had managed to score a date-not-date with you, camling on the beach. Paul could barely breathe when he saw you in a tight black tank top and swimshorts to match it. You were...beautiful. He's seen photos of you as a woman, and dammit he'd have you either way. Man. Woman. They. He didn't care. He could spend all day watching you, admiring you...fucking you. Dammit.

You were desperately oblivious to his looks, or at least if you did notice, you brushed them off. You and that damn half sided smile you'd send him occasionally. The fire was warm, the tent was at the side, a little closer to the woods, so yall weren't as bare to the wind and slashing sand.

"Well, I'm bored, Wolf boy. You said you'd keep me entertained." You teased, smiling and those pretty damn eyes batting at him. What he wouldn't do to make them roll back. "You wanna swim then?" He offered, voice gruff with emotions, the main being pure desire. He watched as you got up, stretching, bones popping in a few places "Well just don't stare too hard." You smirked as you slid your tank top off, you barely or never shown anyone your chest. By god he was in love. Your scarring was a soft pink to tan skin, obvious to see it was bumpy and ragged. Paul wanted to kiss and bite every part till you were saying you were pretty.

"No staring. Got it." He mumbled, watching as you went off to the water. Paul's heart raced as you called out to him, your voice both teasing and inviting. He hesitated for a moment, torn between his desire to be closer to you and his need to maintain control. But the sight of you in the water, your scars shimmering in the moonlight, was too much to resist. With a strangled breath, he stood up and walked towards the water, his gaze still fixed on you. The water was cold, but he barely felt it when he stood beside you.

"You're beautiful, ya know?" He asked gently, and when you didn't respond, he kept going, "Scars, transition, every damn thing about you. You're perfect to me."

He didn't miss how your face flushed as you mumbled a quick, "You think so? Their not...ugly?" He shook his head no, reaching out a hand, his fingers gently grazing the scars on your chest, tracing their outlines with a feather-light touch. "These scars don't change how I see you," he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. "They just make you even more beautiful. And even more mine."

Within moments, you two were on the sand, the tent be dammed, as yall made out hungrily. He broke the kiss, trailing to your chest to kiss the botched scars and then lower. "W-wait.." You mumbled, and he stopped he'd always stop. "I don't..I'm not fully transitioned." You admitted, but he didn't care. Not one damn bit. "So? I can do either. Front or back. You're mine, nothings changing that."

His words were full of love and reassurance so you nodded and he continued. Taking your shorts and then boxers off. He nearly fucking drooled at you. Trimmed but clean, he couldn't help but swipe his tounge at your Tcock, which had you squirming. "Tell me if I need to ever stop." You heard his words but the intense pleasure that hit knocked your response away as he sucked your tcock and slid two fingers into your cunt to please you. You were coming in minutes of it, he kissed your cunt and pulled off. "Front or back, my sweet boy. What's more comfortable?"

You were too stimulated to even answer, only managing a soft moan as you turned, arching your back to present yourself. "Fuckin hell, sweetheart." Paul groaned as he wet his own hard cock that was leaking, one hand went to the base of his cock, the other to your Tcock to stroke at it while he slid in. He knew he was a big boy, a cock at 7 inches and just as thick wasn't the best for first date anal sex, but he'd get you there.

The both of you were desperate and content to jist keep fucking on the beach, but it got way too cold to quick. So now, in the tent, flap open, he was back to rutting his cock into your ass as he jerked off yours, occasionally dipping his fingers into your cunt just so it wasn't neglected.

"Close. Fuck, Paul, I'm gonna come." You whimpered out, drooling into one of his pillows he had brought. "Me too, fuck, come for me, love." He panted as he kept going, feeling the knot in his gut getting unbearably tight. As soon as you came, tightening around him, he jerked and spilled into you. He rolled his hips a few more times to ride the highs out before he pulled out, watching with content as some of his cum leaked out of your tight ass.

The two of you, too tired to get dressed jist simply cuddled naked, not bothering to close the flap due to the wolf heat between both of you and the stench of sex. Your head tucked into his chest, listening to his heart as you fell asleep.

MDNI ‼️ Look at the Tags ♡

Asshole!Simon who hates your guts for no apprent reason

Asshole!Simon who totally doesn't watch you walk by or stare at your ass

Asshole!Simon who definitely hasn't taken a pair of your boxers to just fuck himself with when you're out on missions for weeks at a time. He totally imagines every damn position and place. Doggy, Missionary, The shower room, in the woods near base..you fucking name it.

Asshole!Simon who denies being in your damn room while you're gone cause he gets worried about you so the only thing that helps him sleep is being in your bunk.

Asshole!Simon who had to leave with the others for a solid month and totally made it everyone else's problem cause he couldn't be around you but god forbid Soap tells him to ask you out.

Asshole!Simon who gets sloppy drunk after that mission was a success and sends you several audios and videos of him pumping that thick cock and whimpering your name in that deep British accent...wait is that a piercing on the tip??

Asshole!Simon who begs you to come to his room so he can get cock drunk or make you cock drunk.

Asshole!Simon who tries to deny fucking you the next day, but his stutters and protectiveness gives his big ass away.

Mafiaboss!Simon, who is a complete asshole to any and every damn one.

Mafiaboss!Simon when he gets absolutely starstruck for once in his life when he realizes the person he had a meeting for deals with was a woman and not a man.

Mafiaboss!Simon getting flustered under his balaclava and his men KNOW it, but you don't.

Mafiaboss!Simon just agreeing to whatever you say unless it's specifics cause he just can't find it in himself to say no.

Mafiaboss!Simon hating himself for thinking of taking you home and doing everything. Sex, cooking, movies. It don't matter. If it's you, he wants it.

Mafiaboss!Simon being crazy respectful, "Ma'am", "Miss", "Mrs. Y/N".

Mafiaboss!Simon going home afterwards to fuck his fist while whimpering your name like a bitch.

Mafiaboss!Simon not having the guts to ask you out till weeks later

Mafiaboss!Simon being absolutely rocked when you both agree to go to his home for the night, and you weren't afraid to fuck him silly.

Mafiaboss!Simon babbling in his thick accent about how good you feel, how pretty you are, and how much of a good mama you'd be to his kids. He didn't mean to say it. But hey? A kink you can use to your advantage for sure.

Hell yea

You can only reblog this today.

The Glory of Confessions

You sat in the opposite booth, waiting for Father to tell you to confess your sins. Your oh-so-nasty sins.

The thoughts of the Father spanking you with a wooden cross, making you recite verses in The Bible, making you restart every time your pathetic voice waivered or you cried out begging him to stop.

"Begin your confession, the Holy Lord is with you child."

"Yes God. I mean Father." You begin to reach the hem of your best Sunday dress, a pastel pink with baby's breath on it, your pussy's heat making it unbearable. "I've been having very sinful thoughts, Father." You sigh, dipping your fingers into your heat, "About us. How it'd feel to be yours." You move two digits in and out of you, making sure The Father can hear just how wet you are for him.

"The Lord forgives you. I forgive you, my dear child." The Father puffs out, if you listened hard enough you can hear the subtle movement of pants being unzipped. "Tell me, what these thoughts are like, my child." He asks dearingly.

"I touch myself to the thoughts of you touching me and taking me like God says only married folk do. I dream of your cocks taste. I get soaked just being in congregation with you, I love how you have me in a chokehold. You're like my own personal God." You pause, allowing your clit to relax from a pending orgasm. You can hear The Father breathing heavily, "Father, let me help you." You plead. "Yes child, you will help your God." he responds.

His cock appears through a hidden hole, and to your surprise, his pale cock is pierced, 6 balls, A Jacob's ladder? You can see the precum leaking and the leftover saliva he left from listening to you.

You hum, you take his cock in your hand, has to be at least 7 1/2 inches, maybe bigger. You lick his tip and his cock bucks in your hand, you put his tip in your mouth and swirl your eager tongue around it; making him pant and moan.

"Yes, that feels amazing, my child." The Father rolls his hips, in turn, his cock in your hands. You decide to push your limits by taking his cock slowly down your throat, counting each piercing that passes your smeared lips. Your pussy was aching for touch but you wouldn't allow yourself to. Bobbing your head, you moan and gag around his cock, loving the salty taste.

The Father moans at your movements, loving how your pretty throat wrapped tightly around his cock. You've been so taunting lately, the cute dresses, not wearing bras, the way your pretty eyes watch his every move. That's right, He's your God. Your only God.

He cums at those thoughts, loving the way you gag to swallow every drop. You even suck till he's soft in your mouth taking every drop.

As he pulls away, you ask for a more fruitful time the next time you both are alone. All you get back as an answer is "Maybe, My pet."