Bean Flicker 9000

Its not like lambert doesnt know hes got some hangups, ok? Hell, after everything hed been through its amazing hes only got a few. But fuck if this wasnt the worst one.

Keira knew, almost right from the start, that lambert was missing a sort of guidance. He could have a focused, strategic mind when he was calm, but other times he would lash out like a child. Keiras heart hurt for him, as a sorceress she knew all to well the pain of losing ones childhood.

Lambert had known a lovers touch, but needed the nurturing of one as well. She had been nervous at first, not wanting to be tied down by some man-child, but he wasnt anything like that. He deferred to her at any opportunity and encouraged her to do as she will. It was still in lamberts usual way, a dismissive noise when she suggested he fetch her something, but then returning with it before sundown. The way his golden eyes would shine when she praised him won her over, in the end. He was just too darling to resist.

He was useful. And sweet. And funny. And it was just natural for keira to lean in to her need to care for him, to fill the holes in his heart as best she could.

Lord Mara in all his glory  😈

butch love 💜

Claude is a lucky puppy. He has a good Master, who even makes training sessions fun. Sometimes, being a good puppy is hard, but he’s really, really working on it.

Click under the cut for petplay, collars, dehumanization, butt plugs, training sessions, spanking, panty kink, doing “tricks”, humiliation, and a Master who uses they/them pronouns. Both these characters have cocks. 

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It’s so hot out, and Miles just wants to sleep. So, he rolls the dice. Leaves his windows open. Little does he know, someone’s been waiting for this. Blake’s got it bad for Miles, and he favors the direct approach. 

Click under the cut for trans guy being raped by his cis stalker! Molestation, somnophilia, virginity kink, talk of creampies and breeding, stalking, and knife play. Also, old town Detroit makes everything sexier. 

Word Count is about 3K. 

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(he/him)

I try to push back at him, shove him off of me, but it's hopeless. He doesn’t budge.

He laughs mockingly. “Is that all you’ve got, tough guy?”

I flush in embarrassment, the red reaching the tips of my ears.

“That’s what I thought,” he mocks. He shoves his leg between my thighs, the friction reaching my hot cunt. I shiver.

“Please,” I say.

“Please what ?” he asks, pressing me against the wall with his arm across my chest. “What do you want, tough guy? Spit it out.”

“Fuck,” I pant. “Please. Um.” I struggle for words. What I want is for him to keep pushing me around, spitting insults at me, but I don’t know how to ask for that.

He grips my hair and tugs me around with it, and I cry out in pain, not expecting it. He turns me to face the wall and presses me against it hard, his thick frame pinning me in place.

“Are you such a dumb little slut that you can’t even talk?” he mocks. “Don’t even know how to ask for what you want?” He reaches his hand up to my throat and chokes me. “Is this what you want, tough guy?” he asks. “You want to be shoved around and hit and find out how much you can take?”