#erotumbrl

I had been waiting 32 years of my life for this moment. Up until now, large dicks seem to have evaded me so I reached out to a fellow redditor to see if he'd be so kind as to help me make my dream come true. How can I call myself a slut and a size queen if I haven't even experienced a monster myself?

Thankfully, he was more than happy to oblige and we met this very day at a hotel on the outskirts of London. Within a few moments of him arriving at the room we were kissing, ripping off our clothes and he had thrown me on the bed.

As soon as he got his cock out I went insane for it - though arguably he was equally as enthralled with my breasts, caressing and sucking on them. It wasn't long before I was begging for his dick. He acquiesced.

The initial feeling of being stretched out inch by inch by a huge cock is a memory that will never leave me - it was just the gift that kept on giving. He ploughed into me with an energy and fervour that got me cumming quickly. It was only after this that I tested my dick sucking and deep throating mettle on him (not bad, but more practise on a huge dick is certainly required). He finally graced me with his cum all over my tits.

But we weren't done. I wanted to have all my holes tested by a big dick. After a little while, I bent over and presented my most precious hole, my ass, to him; spreading my cheeks apart. With very little hesitation he pushed his huge dick into me, moaning and pumping roughly into me, producing guttural moans. It felt so fucking good to be so full.

you are a good pet, arthur morgan 😌full on my twi ^^ @volyages.

I just know xavier is a soft spoken condescending dom.

18+ — xavier x reader — any pov

݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ Ი⑅𐑼

Xavier is a kind hearted man. Always full of slow sunset energy and even more brilliant moments. Enhance why he loves seeing you in the morning. 

You're wrapped in a duck-themed blanket, your eyes heavy with the weight of all the activities you did yesterday. He loves seeing you like this, puffy lips, doozy eyelids, aching body. 

And he doesn’t have an ounce of guilt.

No guilt for the way he nuzzled his nose in your neck yesterday evening, his hands roaming on your hips, right under the cushions and plushies he just won for you at the carnival. 

‘sunshine…are you tired yet? because i’m not…’ he whispered in that quiet voice of his.

your laugh rambled through the room, even overtaking the dialogue of the movie right in front of you

‘xavie…we were out all day come on. You’re impossible’ your voice was nothing but a carefree and fond murmur against his sun-kissed hair. 

But xavier wasn't so much of the same opinion

‘is that a no sunshine?’ his hand wandered lower, his tone not quite holding the same calmness now.

you were together since long enough for your ears to catch that little change and your mouth was already babbling words ‘no xavie its just we-’

‘so if it's not a no, you can shut your mouth now, can’t you now love? and let me take care of you’

And it’s not like you could really say no to xavier. Not when he was looking at you like that. with a tenderness that doesn't reflect on the way he was already pushing the plushies to the floor.

…Ი︵𐑼 ۶ৎ …

you could barely hear yourself thinking at this point, the squishy sounds of your hole and the heat of his kisses making you dizzy with need.

‘you like that mh, sunshine? can already feel you squeezing my fingers, yeah just like that’

his words passed directly through your core, your gaze glassy with need

‘xavie want you-’

‘What's that baby? did i say i was done with you?’

‘n-no but babe-’

xavier has never been unnecessarily cruel, not even a little mean, but he hates it when you try to rush the little bit of fun he has with you. now that i put it like that, can you really blame him?

‘you know i don't like when you're impatient like this sunshine…’

slap!

‘...you know i love to take my time with you…’

slap!

‘...so why do you want to make this so difficult for me?’

your tiny little cries, as he strikes your core with the smooth palm of his hand, make him throb right under your thigh.

‘you take it so well don’t you? always making me so hard when all i want is to take care of you…’ he added a third finger, his rhythm impatient, even as his voice left nothing of the tremor ongoing in his guts. 

you moaned, you whimpered, you arched at the friction his movements initiated, movements who constantly attain the spongy spot of your insides. It was a delicious symphony for him. And an even more delicious sensation for you.

‘my beautiful thing…look at you, doesn't it feel good when i take care of you properly? devoutly? you can feel it can’t you?’

indeed you could. feel the orgasm coming through you, and like on mark you exploded all around his fingers.

‘now won’t you use that perfect body of yours to help me like i helped you?’

it’ll be a long night.

. ˖── .✦

a/n: interactions are always appreciated, I’ll see if I do a part two hehe…he is so cute in his birthday event 😝 anyway never hesitate to chat w me or whatever. Thanks a lot for reading 😈

Idea from tiktok

It had been a month since I last saw those blue eyes, the last time I felt the weight of his gaze on me in the privacy of his bachelor apartment. A month in which I had convinced myself that this man, impeccably groomed and twenty-five years older than me, was just a summer mistake, a forbidden and wonderful experience that wouldn't happen again.

​My parents, completely oblivious to the whirlwind brewing inside me, had dragged me to the city cathedral for the wedding of their friend's friend, a certain "Mr. Winchester," a construction tycoon who, they said, was marrying a younger woman.

​"You'll look gorgeous, darling," my mother had told me as she adjusted my navy blue cocktail dress, a sober and elegant design. "Your father wants to make a good impression."

​The cathedral was packed. The scent of lilies and incense mingled with the murmur of elite guests. I walked behind my parents down the center aisle, my gaze lost among the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

​Upon reaching the front rows, my view cleared. There he was. Standing next to the altar, dressed in a dark gray wedding suit that fit him to perfection, his golden hair neatly styled and his beard trimmed. But it wasn't the elegance of the suit or the formality of the moment that paralyzed my heart.

​It was his gaze. His intense, deep blue eyes, which had looked at me with so much desire a few weeks ago, were fixed on me.

​A chill ran down my spine. I stopped dead in my tracks, the world around me fading away. The ceremony, the priest, the bride waiting by his side... everything became irrelevant. It was just him and me.

​The smile that formed on his lips wasn't that of a man about to get married. It was a slow, knowing smile, a silent promise that ignited a spark of desire and terror in my stomach.

​—Elena, darling, are you okay? —my mother whispered, gently tugging my arm.

​—Yes, mom. I'm fine —I managed to articulate, my voice barely audible over the murmur of the guests—. Just... I tripped.

​I forced a smile and kept walking, feeling the burn of his gaze on the back of my neck. I sat in the assigned chair, my heart hammering in my chest. I had thought my biggest problem at this wedding would be boredom. Now, I realized my biggest problem was just a few feet away at the altar, about to say "I do" to another woman while I burned with desire for him.

​The reception was a display of opulence: floral arrangements that cost more than my car, a soft jazz orchestra playing, and waiters serving champagne in cut-crystal glasses. My parents, fascinated by the atmosphere, had left me alone for a few moments to go greet some old acquaintances.

​I was standing near the bar, holding a glass of champagne I hadn't tasted, when I felt a presence next to me. The unmistakable scent of his cologne —sandalwood and citrus, a blend that gave me a chill— enveloped me before I could react.

​—Excuse me, miss —a deep voice said, with a hint of irony that made me tremble.

​I turned around. It was him. Up close, in the dark suit with his intense gaze, he was even more dangerous. He had left his new bride (where was she? I didn't want to know) chatting with a group of guests.

​—Mr. Winchester —I said, trying to maintain my composure—. Congratulations.

​He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. His cold, calculating blue eyes locked onto mine.

​—Elena. What a... delicious surprise.

​—I don't think this is the time or the place —I said, anxiously looking around.

​—For me, it's always the time —he whispered, stepping closer. The heat of his body enveloped me—. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. A month, Elena. A whole month where I haven't stopped thinking about you.

​—You just got married.

​—A minor detail. My heart... and my body belong elsewhere. To you.

​The brush of his shoulder against mine as he leaned in slightly was electric. The air between us grew dense, charged with a tension that threatened to overflow at any moment.

​—May I have this dance? —he asked in a whisper, extending his hand.

​—I can't. People will see us.

​—Let them see us. I couldn't care less. —His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower—. Dance with me, Elena. Or I swear I'll kidnap you and take you straight to the bridal suite right now.

​I couldn't refuse. His large, warm hand grasped mine. He led me to the dance floor, where the orchestra was playing a slow waltz.

​As he pulled me in, his body pressed against mine with a familiarity that made me lose my breath. His hand traced my back, coming to rest on my waist. The brush of his suit fabric against my light dress was a brutal contrast to the softness of his skin that I remembered.

​—You look stunning —he murmured against my ear—. That dress... looks wonderful on you. Though I'd rather see you without it.

​—Shut up —I said, feeling my cheeks burn.

​He chuckled softly. He pulled me tighter, spinning us to the rhythm of the music. His thighs brushed against mine, sending waves of heat through my body.

​—You have no idea how much it turns me on to have you here, dancing with me, while my wife watches us from across the room. It's a... perverted thrill.

​—You're a monster.

​—Maybe. But I'm your monster. And you belong to me, Elena. Don't forget it.

​The end of the waltz came both too soon and too late. I pulled away from him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He looked at me with an intensity that promised me more... much more, before rejoining his wife.

​I headed to the restroom, trembling, trying to catch my breath and regain my sanity. The night promised to be long, and Mr. Winchester, now my host and my "family friend," was determined to play with me, to burn me with his desire until nothing of me was left.

​I took refuge in the women's restroom, a sanctuary of marble and golden mirrors, desperately trying to catch my breath. My reflection showed a girl in a perfectly pressed navy blue dress, hair pulled back, and an intense flush on her cheeks that makeup couldn't hide.

​I splashed cold water on my face, the freezing liquid doing little to cool the fire burning inside me. His words, his touch, the way he had looked at me... it all swirled into a mass of contradictory sensations. Desire, guilt, fear, a perverse thrill that robbed me of clear thought.

​I left the restroom and headed to the hotel terrace, seeking fresh air and a moment of solitude. The night was starry, a soft breeze caressing my skin. I leaned against the railing, looking at the city lights spreading out below.

​—Hiding, Elena?

​His voice startled me. I turned. He was standing in the terrace's dim light, the dark suit blending into the night.

​—I'm not hiding —I said, trying to sound cold—. I just... needed a break.

​—From the party? Or from me? —he chuckled.

​—Both —I admitted, lowering my gaze.

​He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between us. The scent of sandalwood and citrus wrapped around me again.

​—I can't stop thinking about you, Elena. —His voice was a raspy whisper, loaded with an intensity that made me tremble—. Your body, your skin, the way you moved beneath me.

​—Stop —I said, feeling my cheeks burn.

​—You're married.

​—That's just a technical detail. —His blue eyes, locked onto mine, shone with a silent promise—. My heart belongs to you. And my body does too, whenever you want to claim it.

​—And your wife?

​—What about her? She's my wife. You... you are my mistress, my desire, my obsession.

​—You're a terrible man, Mr. Winchester.

​—Call me Dean. At least when we're alone. —He took another step closer. The heat radiating from his body sent a jolt of electricity across my skin—. I want you so much, Elena. Right here, right now, on this terrace, under the stars.

​—You can't —I said, though my barely audible voice betrayed my lack of conviction—. There are people inside. They'll see us.

​—Let them see us. I couldn't care less. —His large, warm hand gripped my waist, pulling me hard against him—. I swear I'll kidnap you and take you straight to the bridal suite right now.

​—You're insane.

​—Maybe. But I'm your insane. And you belong to me, Elena. Don't forget it.

​The brush of his thigh against mine was electric. The air between us grew dense, heavy with guilt and a desire no social formality could extinguish. His eyes, fixed on mine, shone with an intensity promising more... much more.

​—Kiss me —I whispered, unable to help myself.

​He didn't need to be told twice. His lips met mine with an urgency that left me breathless. A deep, passionate kiss that erased everything else around me. The world vanished. It was just him and me.

​—Let's go —he said, pulling back with difficulty—. Right now.

​—We can't. My parents...

​—To hell with your parents. —His voice was a raspy whisper, full of desire and a frightening, thrilling determination—. I want you. Now. In my bed.

​He took my hand and led me through the garden, far from the prying eyes of the guests. My parents... the wedding... the wife... everything became irrelevant. Only he mattered. Dean. The man who was now my host and my lover. And who was ready to burn me with his desire until nothing was left.

​Dean's firm, burning hand dragged me through the shadows of the garden, away from the music and laughter floating from the ballroom. His steps were fast, resolute, almost aggressive. I could barely keep up, tripping over my heels and the hem of my navy blue dress.

​—Dean, wait —I whispered, trying to control my ragged breathing.

​He didn't stop. He only tightened his grip on my hand. The night air, cool and scented with blooming jasmine, struck my face—a brutal contrast to the fire Dean was igniting inside me.

​We reached the side of the hotel, a service door hidden behind thick ivy. Dean pulled a key from his pocket, slid it into the lock, and turned it with a sharp click.

​The door swung open, revealing a dark, silent hallway. He shoved me inside and locked the door behind us, plunging us into total darkness.

​—Dean —I said, my voice trembling slightly from fear and anticipation.

​—Quiet —he whispered, his voice raspy and loaded with an intensity that made me shudder.

​I felt his body press against mine in the dark. His hot, ragged breath brushed my neck. The scent of his cologne —sandalwood and citrus— enveloped me, intoxicating.

​His large, rough hands slid down my arms, stopping at my shoulders. With a smooth yet firm motion, he slipped the straps of my dress down, leaving my bare shoulders exposed to the cool air.

​—You look gorgeous, Elena —he murmured, his lips kissing the sensitive skin of my neck—. Though I'd rather see you without it.

​A smothered moan escaped my lips. His words, dripping with raw eroticism, made me burn.

​His hands continued their descent, stroking my waist, my hips, resting on the curve of my lower back. The friction of his suit fabric against my bare skin was a brutal contrast, an electric jolt sending waves of heat through my body.

​—You have no idea how much it turns me on to have you here, all alone, Elena —he whispered, his voice a rough murmur against my ear—. In your cocktail dress, so innocent, so desirable... while my wife waits out there, completely oblivious.

​—Dean, please —I whispered, my voice barely a sound.

​—Please? Please what, Elena? For me to stop? —he chuckled, a dark, perverted sound—. Or for me to keep going?

​I couldn't answer. My body was betraying me, answering his touch with uncontrollable desire.

​He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark with a promise of more... much more.

​—Take off the dress —he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.

​—I can't —I said, though my shaking voice gave away my lack of will.

​—Of course you can. And if you don't, I will. And I don't think you'll like how I do it.

​His eyes, locked on mine, shone with a silent promise that terrified and excited me in equal measure. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I slid down the zipper of my dress. The metallic sound echoed in the silence of the room.

​The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me in black lace lingerie. Dean let out a guttural sigh.

​—Stunning —he muttered, his eyes roaming over my body with an intensity that made me feel entirely bare under his gaze.

​He stepped closer, his body pinning mine against the cold wall. The friction of his hot skin against mine was an electric shock.

​His lips claimed mine with a breath-stealing urgency. A deep, passionate kiss that wiped out everything else. The world dissolved. It was just him and me.

​His large, warm hands caressed my thighs, my hips, my waist. Every touch, every stroke, lit another spark of contained desire. The air between us grew thick, heavy with the weight of guilt and a longing no social rule could break.

​—Dean —I groaned, my body arching toward him.

​—I want you, Elena —he murmured, his lips trailing down my jawline—. Right now. In my bed.

​He swept me up in his arms and carried me across the room toward a large, luxurious bed. Mr. Winchester, my host, my family friend, was ready to play with me, to burn me with his desire until nothing was left of me. And I... I didn't want him to stop.

​The vast bed of the bridal suite seemed to swallow us in the dim light. Dean laid me down on the sheets with deliberate slowness, his weight covering me instantly, cutting off any trace of air and reason. His tie was already loose, clumsily undone, and the top button of his shirt was open, revealing the firm skin of his chest and the sheen of cool sweat that betrayed the contained urgency of the entire evening.

​—Look at me —he commanded in a husky whisper against my lips, before devouring them again with a hungry possessiveness.

​His large hands—rough from the years but expert at stripping away sanity—traced every inch of my skin with a feverish desperation. The black lace of my underwear vanished beneath the push of his fingers, unable to withstand the barrier of fabric. Every brush of his skin against mine was incandescent friction; the heat of our bodies melted together in an accelerated rhythm of broken breaths and choked gasps.

​—You're mine, Elena —he growled close to my ear, his voice turning into a raspy echo that made me violently arch my back against the mattress.

​The proximity of the wedding, the artificial luxury of the hall just on the other side of the door, the guilt and the danger of being caught only fanned the flames. It was an act of absolute transgression. His hips pressed firmly against mine, seeking absolute contact, measuring each other in a slow, deliberate sway charged with an electric tension that threatened to break us from the inside out.

​—Dean... please —I groaned, my fingers digging hard into the fabric of his jacket and his shoulders, seeking an anchor while the whole world seemed to dissolve into raw pleasure.

​He tilted his face, blazing a trail of burning kisses down the curve of my neck, stopping at the exact spot where my pulse raced wildly before biting into the skin with just the right measure of pain and ecstasy. His pace grew denser, relentless, driven by the urgency of a man claiming the forbidden.

​We moved as one in the shadows, entirely given over to the friction of our bodies, the sound of the sheets twisting beneath our hands, and the broken whispers lost in the dark. Every thrust was a mix of defiance and surrender, a fire consuming the last shreds of decency until we were left breathless, suspended on the edge of the abyss, burning under the same dark sky that remained completely unaware of what we had just destroyed.

​The silence of the bridal suite was left behind when we turned the knob of the service door once more. The hallway air was cool, almost indifferent to the chaos we had just unleashed in the dark. We straightened our clothing with still-shivering hands and quick gestures; I smoothed out the hem of my navy blue dress and adjusted the straps over my shoulders, while Dean re-buttoned his shirt and straightened the vest of his suit with astonishing coldness, as if the last few minutes had never happened.

​—You go first —he murmured, a shadow of amusement in his gaze and absolute authority in his tone—. I'll take the side hallway. See you inside.

​I nodded mutely, unable to speak, and slipped back into the reception ballroom through a side door.

​The contrast was a harsh blow to the senses. Jazz music still drifted through the room, guests' laughter echoed over crystal glassware, and the warm glow of hanging chandeliers lit up the opulent banquet. I blended into the crowd with my heart still pounding in my ears, trying to regain a composure I knew no longer belonged to me.

they warned me you were intimidating…