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Ohhh my godddd!!! I just know that the creature would eat (boy)pussy like he was born for it. He's so curious, so attentive, so directable. If inspiration strikes, might we have your thoughts, my liege?
anon I would give you the key to the kingdom of heaven if I could
let's get one thing straight, just right off the bat: once he figures out that a) eating pussy is intimate and pleasurable for both of you and b) you (for reasons which he finds generally mystifying but adores you too much to question) love him enough to indulge him in said pussy, Adam is an absolute MENACE
a very sweet and gentle menace!! but a menace nonetheless. he's addicted to your cunt and will eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks in between. loves being able to give you pleasure (#servicetop), loves the taste, the sounds you make, the way your thighs feel around his head - all of it
in the grand napoleonic tradition: don't wash. something about the way you look fresh after a bout of physical labor - repairing the fences, harvesting mushrooms and berries from the woods, the general chores of life on your little homestead - drives him absolutely wild
and since you're pretty isolated (barring any unwelcome visitors) - well, there's really nothing to stop him from dropping to his knees right there in the grass and burying his face between your thighs, is there. once he grows confident to be spontaneous, you'll be spending a lot of time with your knees over his shoulders
has a tendency to accidentally edge you because he can't resist taking a moment to either check if you're okay (does that feel good? am I squeezing you too hard? do you like my fingers here?) or to murmur soft praise for you and your body in between slow laps at your pussy (oh, you're so sensitive here. that's such a beautiful sound, my love. can you take more?)
if you grow tired of the interruptions and decide to hold him against your cunt until he finishes the job, he most certainly won't complain
at the same time tends to accidentally overstimulate you once he really gets into it - he could happily spend hours of his life between your thighs given the opportunity. he'd stop in a heartbeat if you told him to, but it's hard to say that's enough when he's made you come in his mouth six times and you can't feel your hands
(djkhaledsufferingfromsuccess.jpeg)
accidentally pavlovs you into getting wet everytime he puts his hair in a ponytail (a la this gifset). then figures it out and starts pavloving you on purpose (#menace)
after a life of abjection and scorn, Adam cherishes the tender intimacy between you. however☝️ i do headcanon (semi-canon? whatever) that he has an appreciation/fascination for intense physical sensation when it's in a safe environment. thus, hairpulling or scratching at his broad shoulders is very much appreciated!
actually gets a little bummed out that any scratches or bitemarks you leave fade so quickly :( he wants you to mark him!!
i know in my heart and soul that he spits on it (respectfully.)
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it's been one year of horrifying genocide, on top of over seven decades of occupation and violence. please donate to palestinian families to help them survive. if you don't know where to look, or are anxious about making a choice about who to help, head to gazafunds.com. please do what you can to help.
gonna slap a cw for dubcon/noncon on this one folks - reader knows/is heavily implied to know what billy's doing, but there's a third party who is unaware. if that's not cool with you here's yr warning ✌️ also some billy-typical violent thoughts, not directed @ reader tho
Billy doesn’t know whether he loves or hates nights like this.
On the one hand, he gets to see you — all of you. He sees you all the time - in your room, in the shower, in every state of dress or undress - but there's a side of you that doesn't come out when you're alone, only when you've got some pretty, desperate thing spread and whining on the bed beneath you. He knows what you sound like whispering gentle praise or snarling insults. He knows the line that forms in your brow when you're fucking into someone on their knees and the grin you wear watching them bounce on your lap. They might warm your bed for the night, but he's seen parts of you they never will.
On the other hand, Billy hates watching you fuck someone else. You bring a stranger home at least once a week now — never the same person twice. None of them deserve it. None of them know you like he does; none of them have seen you like he has. It should be him in your bed.
The sound of a stranger’s voice in your hallway makes his throat burn with jealousy, hissing curses through his teeth and tugging at the roots of his hair as he paces furious and lightfooted around your attic. But all the same, when he hears the soft click of your closing door, he’s flattening himself to the floor so he can stare through the crack in your ceiling, a t-shirt he’d snagged from your dirty laundry clenched in his white-knuckled fist.
The boy you've brought home tonight is tall and muscular, with straight blond hair and blue eyes like a china doll, which is annoying. Billy likes it better when you bring home people that resemble him, that have his messy curls and skinny build. He can pretend that you're seeking them out because they look like him, that it's your secret signal; you know him, you've seen him, you want him. Still, he shoves a hand between his thighs and grinds into his palm as you bend low to sink your teeth into a suntanned throat, huffing deep lungfuls of your sweat through the fabric pressed to his nose. His stomach roils, jealousy sour on his tongue.
You're already naked, straddling the stranger's lap, grinding and rolling, making him let out pathetic little keens. Billy likes the sounds he makes even though he wants to bleed him like a pig for being under you, in his place. He's responsive, pliant beneath your hands. Knows how to behave. Billy likes that. He'd behave for you, if you'd let him; he’d try so so hard to be good and you’d never call him nasty or filthy or bad. He whines into the drool-soaked cotton over his mouth, fucking into his hand and imagining licking the sheen of sweat off the nape of your neck.
You’re talking to the boy beneath you, low and sweet — he can hear the smile in your voice. Two fingers are buried in his throat down to the last knuckle, pulsing in and out at the same pace you buck your hips. He makes wet, choked noises around the intrusion and Billy echoes the sound, eyes rolling in his skull at your satisfied coo.
“There we go, baby,” you purr before tugging at the blond’s jaw, spitting into his mouth. He swallows without a second thought, presents his tongue for more. Billy moans, nearly sobbing, throbbing with envy. He worries your shirt between his teeth, panting furiously through his nose and watching the boy gag and cry around your fingers. “So pretty. My puppy loves this, doesn't he?”
Puppy. That’s new. He likes it.
"Good puppy. T-Take Billy home, take Billy," he slurs, fluctuating somewhere between your voice and his own. Your movements grow frenzied below him, bouncing on the blond's lap with abandon. He can hear the wet sounds your bodies make together, slick and obscene beneath your soft panting and the boy's pitchy moans. “Billy’s a good dog. W-Wanna be your pretty puppy, piggy's pretty puppy.”
“Come on, come on,” you gasp. Your head lolls back, hazy eyes fixed on the ceiling beneath your fluttering lashes. There’s a determined tilt to your kiss-bruised mouth, a furrow of concentration between your brows. “Let me hear you, puppy.”
Billy comes with a yowl only barely muffled by the shirt pressed to his face, so hard his vision flashes white, skull blessedly empty if only for a moment. When he comes to, his face is tacky with tears, a puddle of saliva cooling on the floorboards beneath his cheek; his thighs are soaked with cum, a dark stain on the front of his trousers. It makes him feel gross, filthy, which of course he is. He wiggles his hand free with a hiss as he brushes the oversensitive flesh of his cock, lifting it to his face and suckling at his sticky fingers.
The blond boy is in your lap when he focuses through the crack again, resting on your thighs with a dazed smile as you lift a glass of water to his lips. You run your nails through the short hair at the nape of his neck and Billy burns, a whimper escaping around his thumb. Unfair that this stranger gets to lay on your soft, warm thighs, while Billy has to roll around in filth on the cold attic floor. He imagines wrapping his hands around the boy's long neck and squeezing 'til the whites of his eyes turn bright cherry red. It makes him feel a little better.
Once the glass is empty, you pull him up and out of your room; Billy knows you can't stand going to bed sweaty. Limp and weary, he scans the room for any trophies — and lights up at the scrap of red fabric he can see peeking out from your tangled sheets. He can see the slick that stains it from his peephole, a giddy, girlish giggle cracking out of him. Silently, he creeps towards the trapdoor, ready to scurry downstairs as soon as you're distracted in the shower.
You're usually careful not to leave your underwear lying around. It must be Billy’s lucky day.
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Imagine that my 5-year-old daughter surprised me by saying that she feels that she will soon die from a missile that will tear her apart.
Is it fair that my daughter dies while she is still dreaming of life?
I am asking for a small donation of 35$ or 50$ from each person to save my daughters from extermination.
I need your help if you can 🥺😢
🍉‼️If you have $10 and you don't donate i you are participating in the extermination of my children‼️🍉.
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Hope your shift went well! <3 Thoughts on Herbert taking a big ole strap?
still waiting to hear the final decision but i think it went okay!! fingers crossed
so you know that pic of the hamster eating a banana
well
ok I'll be serious. it is a core belief of mine that herbert west is a blatant size queen. i am more convinced of this than i am in the existence of god
naturally, this extends to strap-ons as well
if your relationship with herbert is new, you might be inclined to think you'll need to work him up to a bigger dildo. this is a misapprehension on your part
herbert, holding a strap that could double as a bludgeoning weapon in a pinch: pathetic
he likes to test them out by himself first, like any good mad scientist. you'll come home and find him riding his toy in your bed, still half-clothed and dripping with sweat. he hopes that you'll take the lead, but if you're feeling mean, find a comfortable seat and make him finish on his own. he'll be begging for your touch by the time he comes
when you do fuck him, herbert claws the absolute hell out of you. you'll be covered in nail marks front and back, and when he really lets loose he doesn't care enough to try not to draw blood. he'll feel a little guilty if you're visibly in pain afterwards, but not guilty enough to not deliberately press on the welts for days afterwards to watch you squirm (and hopefully incite round two)
if you're strong enough to just get a grip on his thighs and bounce him on your cock herbert will go limp and enjoy the ride. this is the second best day of his life (the first best was when he figured out the serum, natch)
he's a scrawny dude, so being able to see his belly bulge isn't out of the question tbh. even if there isn't one, the right amount of pressure on his lower stomach while you're buried deep inside him will make him shudder and whine, feebly writhing against you
will drool and cry when you're rough with him. will also vehemently deny doing so once he's calmed down. tease him too much about it and he might be inclined to return the favor
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A dark, rainy night. A BOLT OF LIGHTNING flares through the clouds, briefly illuminating a field of cracked headstones laden with moss. THUNDER rumbles ominously.
ANGLE ON GRAVE
A statue of an angel adorns the top of the tombstone. The name that was carved there has been worn away by time. Beneath the stone, the mud begins to shift and churn.
WIDE SHOT OF GRAVE
A HAND claws its way out of the dirt, thickly crusted with grime. A LIGHTNING BLAST illuminates the grave as ANGEL scrambles out of the hole, coughing and wheezing.
CLOSE ON ANGEL’S FACE
Ze spits out a mouthful of grave dirt, then looks directly into the camera. It’s wearing heart shaped sunglasses and one of those funky hats with straws attached to beer cans.
