Your Roommate Was A Strange Man.

Wednesday Night Paper Work

You loved your holy sessions with the preacher. Even if it was sinful, you didn't care cause the father blessed you with his love. This night, he wanted to do paperwork, but you weren't there to help file. You were there to give his needy unused cock attention under the desk while he signed and spoke to other Preachers from around the city.

You had your hand between your legs, rubbing and grinding into it for pleasure; while The Father's cock was 4 piercings deep in your throat. The four other men in the room, chatted along about God and confessions. You didn't care much besides making your savior cum. You pulled away from his cock, teasing the tip, you wanted him to get blue balled. It'd make him so much more ready to abuse your cock-virgin pussy. You loved how he'd subtly adjust his hips, trying to make more friction. You continued on, lazily licking and stroking.

You didn't realize the other men left until the Father was pulling you from under the desk and set you against his desk, face heating at the cool of the wood. "You've been bad lamb. Time for you to learn." There was silence for only a moment, then the sting of a slap to your ass made you moan out. Another one came harder on your cheek, then another. You felt your thighs get wet, the Father began rubbing your tender red ass. "You learn your lesson?" He asks, "Yes Father!" You moan out, grinding into his touch as he began rubbing his hand against your wet cunt.

"Please Sir. I need you. Take me." You moan out, loving his touch. "Good lamb, I will, I'll take you so well."

Happy pride month!! :D

Draco malfoy x Curvy! Reader

⚠️: Draco himself is one ngl, Virgin reader, Insecurities over being curvy, thigh fucking, no protection.

Summary: Months after a fight between him and you, and he mentioned you being too big for him (he didn't mean it, he just couldn't shut his damn mouth), he finally breaks down and....begs?

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" You snipped, walking down the street in a skirt and a tshirt. "I want to talk about what the fuck is on your thighs. Why are you taping yourself, L/N."

"What I do to my body isn't none of your business." You scoffed, grunting when he grabbed your arm and pushed you against the brick wall behind you. "Please, just...why?" He looked...worried? "What? Don't remember what you said yourself, how I'm too big for you?"

Your words make him grimace slightly, he remembered alright and he's hated every damn day and second after it. He ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "I shouldn't have said that. You're not fat or too big for anything, Darlin'. You're curvy, yeah but that's a good thing. You're soft." He reached up, his hands hovering over your curves, barely holding back from actually touching you. His eyes were dark, his expression intense as he looked at you, as if he was trying to get you to understand something. "Don't you see, Darlin'? You're...you're soft. You've got warmth, you're so comfortable and...you're not a goddamn stick. You feel so good under my hands, Darlin'. I want to hold you, touch you, feel you—"

You cut him off with a scoff, not wanting to belive him, "All because you're lonely and want someone to make your world a little less dull. I'm not a whore, Malfoy. I'm not just some pretty face I'm sorry that you think you can just get whatever you want, but that's not how that works for me." You choked out, backing up "Besides, skinny rich boys like you don't like curves, I doubt you could even pick me up."

His eyes darkened, anger flashing across his face. He stepped forward, closing the distance you'd just tried to create between you by squirming away. "Don't tell me what I like, Darlin'. You don't get to decide that." His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh above your hipbones. His hands gripped you hard, holding you in place. "I decide what I like. You think I don't want to touch these curves? These hips? Your thighs, Darlin'? You have no idea how I look at you when you walk by, how many times I caught myself watching your thighs jiggling in those jeans or leggings. So don't tell me I don't like curves. You don't know a damn thing about me, Darlin'."

He let out a frustrated huff, his body tense, as if he were fighting some internal battle. "I don't want someone who fits neatly in my arms, who I can just throw around. I want someone who can...who can break me." He looked back into your eyes, his expression almost...vulnerable, as if he'd exposed some part of himself he hadn't meant to. "Break you?" You whispered, looking up at him, confusion in those pretty eyes. "Mmm." He leaned in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear.

"Break me, Darlin'. Make me lose control, drive me wild, take me apart until I'm nothing but a mess at your mercy. Ruin me, Darlin', until there's no coming back."

His breath was hot against your ear, his body pressed firmly against yours. His words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat of his body making you suddenly aware of all the places your bodies touched; your thighs, your hips, your chests, your faces. He was everywhere, surrounding you, overwhelming you. And his words...the way he asked you to break him, to make him lose control...it was like he was asking you to own him. To own his body, his pleasure, his very being. His touch was driving you insane, every brush of his fingers against your skin setting your body alight. You could feel his hardness against your hip, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, steady rhythm. It was as if he was claiming your body right here, in the middle of the night, where anyone could see.

His other hand was at your hip, his fingers curled into the soft flesh above your hip bone as he held you in place. He pushed his knee between your legs, widening them, his whole body language possessive, demanding more, wanting more of you. Draco groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips as you rocked against his thigh, the thin material of your panties doing nothing to hide how much your body ached and ached for more.

"You're already wet, Darlin'," He murmured, his voice low. "Is that for me, Darlin? Is all this...for me?" You nodded, whimpering lightly as you kept moving your hips. His lips were back on your neck, his teeth now nipping sharply at the flesh of your shoulder. "I should just do it right here, Darlin'. I should just throw away all my inhibitions and take you against this wall, let everyone hear how you're mine."

Your thighs were shaking from all the grinding you were going, your clit was swollen and needy, you hadn't been able to formulate words to tell him you're a virgin, not even near as experienced as he was. His fingers dipped beneath the seam of your panties, his touch teasingly light as he brushed against you, running his fingers through the slick wetness that'd gathered at your core. He could feel you shuddering against him, your body trembling and desperate, as he murmured in your ear, his voice still low and rough.

"If they see us, they'll see your body pressed against me. They'll know it's me who made you like this. They'll know you're mine, Darlin', and no one can have you but me."

For some reason, you remember a little scene from a boo you've read, and he might like it. You reach unsteady hands to his pants button and fly, pulling his pearly cock out, it's tip was a bright pink and leaking. His soft groan made you a tad bolder so you pushed his pretty cock between your plush thighs, halfway in your underwear,

"Fuck my thighs...please?" You mumbled, looking up at him and Draco groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his fingers indenting the skin as he tried to regain his composure, his body shuddering as he fought to maintain control. "Yeah, Darlin'. Fuck, whatever you want." He whined as his hips rolled, the slick leaking from your cunt covering his cock as it moved, making your thighs get wet too.

Both of you were making soft noises as he fucked your soft, thick thighs. He was spilling soft praises, a mix of "So pretty." "All mine" "My pretty Girl". You honestly didn't know what to say back besides moans and whimpers; his cock was consistently rubbing your clit. The way he was trembling had the words coming out your mouth before you thought, "Gonne come for me, sweet boy?"

Which earned you a jagged thrust and a whimper. He groaned, his body trembling as he nodded, his hands moving to your hips as he tried to keep himself together, his body grinding against you. "Yes, Darlin'. Yes, Darlin', I'm gonna-" he whispered into your neck that was already coated in soft red marks from his bites.

You felt him adjust and slide only his tip into your soaked cunt, hot come spilled from him, going in and then dripping out to my thighs, panties amd well...the concrete below. By the look in his face....he's never done raw sex before...This mightbe been your first sexual experience with someone else, but this was probably the first time he's done raw. Holy shit.

He let out a shaky breath, his body still trembling, the reality of what just happened settling in. He leaned his forehead against your shoulder, trying to regain his composure. "Ive never....not without protection.." He couldn't seem to form the words, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours, the silver in them more than a little lust-hazed. "It's okay, sweets." You mumbled, "You've done it...without protection before?" He asked, his voice soft, a hint of something like disbelief in his tone.

You flushed and couldn't look at him while admitting it, "Well uh...no..I've never...at all actually.... I just read a lot of books."

With that admission, he was picking you up over his shoulder, easily proving a twig like him could carry you. "Tonight is gonna be the best night of your damn life, and it'll be both of our lasts. Cause you're it for me."

OMG GUYS IM BACK AFTER MONTHS OF WRITERS BLOCK YAY

I'm the only that's gotten 'Deserves The World' so far hahaha

Consider yourself tagged if you are reading this:

Make this picrew of yourself

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All of the Prehistoric Pride guys in one collective post to celebrate pride month. Choose your fighter and have an awesome time :D

More suggestions are always welcome, I sadly was not able to cover everyone, but I will do more of these in the future!

I am going to add more and more to the collection as I get them done :D

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I love this so fuckin much omfg, I love Kurt 😭😭💕

Kinktober day 5

Kurt Wagner + Uniform Kink

Priest Kurt :3 Also talks of religious trauma.I know religious imagery hates to see me comin. Readers a visible mutant, inspired somewhat by Killer croc. Readers 8ft tall.

I know very little about catholic priests, the area I grew up was Lutheran. This also takes place at some point on Krakoa. This ended up being more story driven honestly, but I had fun writing it anyways. Not proofread, because I cant be bothered.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

You had a strained relationship with religion, even if your entire family had been true to the faith. You may have been too, years ago, before your mutation manifested. Back when you had been nothing but their darling son, their gift from whatever god they worshipped, after so many years of trying. The gift just seemed giving, as your parents had more kids after you, giving you siblings.

You didn’t have many good memories with them. You got to hold the first two that were born, even play with them, but then your mutation started. It started out as patches of dry skin, something that could be treated with thick ointments and long baths. They’d thought it was a skin disease back then, and it had been winter, so it was all blamed on the dry weather.

It was harder to deny when the scales started appearing, and when you woke up to your gums bleeding from your new teeth growing in. your sobbing had awoken your mother, who had screamed bloody murder when she saw you. There weren’t many memories of that night, or the next couple of years at that. The human mind worked in strange ways, and yours decided to supress that part of your childhood.

All you remembered were flashes of coldness, of being locked away in what could only have been the basement. Of the churches priests and whoever else they thought might “cure” you of your “disease”. You remembered your father yelling about what he must have done wrong to gain a demon like you as his child. You remembered the quiet whispers in the kitchen at night, that you only were able to hear because of your enchanted senses.

You remember how your mother whispered to your aunt, that this was her fault. That you were the result of an affair, so this had to be God punishing her for her sins. You heard how more siblings were born, how they were told to stay away from the basement no matter what, and punished hard if they even went near it. There wasn’t much entertainment down there, your so-called parents only leaving you with religious texts and whatever else they thought might “save” you.

There was no want inside you to get out, even after what must have been years. Your mutation meant you barely needed to eat, to drink, or sleep. Most of your time was simply spent, listening to your family. Because of that, you learned the same things your siblings did because they needed help with homework, or you got to keep up with the news on the radio. You had accepted it.

It was only when one of your youngest siblings discovered you that it all crumbled. She was young, as small as you had been the day your dry skin started appearing. You knew her name, having heard your mother sing her praises because she had always wanted a daughter. And she wasn’t afraid of you. She spoke to you, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, telling you about mass, about how God would love you anyways, even if you looked different, because he loved everyone.

But the good never lasts, and she was discovered by your not so shared father, and she was punished. Her screaming awoke something deep and feral inside you, a hatred you had never tapped into. Something that had you tearing your chains like they were made of sugar, your claws drawing deep gouges in the walls as you wrenched your way upstairs. The door split like paper under your giant clawed, scaley hand, the hand of a monster, a demon.

The noise you let out was like that of the demons of hell, something deep, snarling and terrifying. Your mother and fathers’ eyes widened in terror, your brothers, the two you got to hold, were terrified. The siblings that never knew you existed wet themselves or started crying in terror. And your sister. Your sweet. kind sister, was a curled-up bleeding ball on the floor, and yet she still smiled at you.

None of the family dared move as you picked her up, she was so small she fit in one of your giant clawed hands. You had never realized how big you were, but as you stared down at your parents with such hatred, it truly sank in. your father who had always seemed so big, as if he were God himself, trembled like a leaf because of you.

They didn’t stop you as you left, tearing the front door of its hinges with nothing but a small nudge, leaving it split in two in the front yard. It was night, and it was one of those white picket fence neighbourhoods, where you preached Gods love, but ignored how the neighbour beat their children bloody.

Having your sister die in your arms was what broke you, for a long time. You weren’t older than 20 at the time, you at least thought that was your age. And yet, you stood taller than any human man, broader and strong enough to tear buildings apart. And still you couldn’t save her. you wanted to rampage, to kill and destroy everyone and everything. But you knew your sister loved this place, even after they mistreated her so. So in the end you buried her somewhere nice, and left.

The brotherhood of mutants wasn’t a choice you thought much about taking. You were no hero, and by the time you learned about the x-men, there was already way too much blood on your hands and in your teeth. That was where you met Kurt, on the battlefield. At that point he was just an enemy, someone you could turn that deep burning rage against. Feed that blood thirsty demon in your chest, to make it quiet for a little while once more.

It took you years to learn more than that they were enemies, the x-men. Your pain must have been written on your face from the very start, even The Wolverine seemed to have a semblance of worry for you. But you didn’t care, you just needed to hurt somebody, and it was easy to run in the direction you were given and lose yourself to your demons.

There were times you would pray, times when you were alone and hurting more than normal. But it never felt like God answered. And why would he. You were a monster put on this earth to punish your mother for her sins, her very sins woven deep into your very being and fuelling you.

At some point you left the brotherhood. Even that wasn’t enough anymore to quiet your demons and pain. It had been years at that point, and Nightcrawler was still just an enemy who’d grown from a small annoying pipsqueak to a slightly bigger but even more annoying pipsqueak. That very furry blue elf had a knack for finding you, wherever you went.

Most of the time you assumed he wanted to fight, but Nightcrawler, Kurt, would just sit by you in his own contemplating silence. At times he talked, other times he was silent. Sometimes he sat close beside you, sometimes meters away. Him talking about his faith made your heart race, but knowing he too experienced pain because of his appearance helped, somewhat.

Time still passed, you still weren’t a good person. The x-men and mutant-kind settled down on Krakoa. You did not, at least not for a long time. You had settled down far away from everything, somewhere with a nice deep lake where you could sink to the bottom, and imagine you were in purgatory because you never thought you would go to heaven.

Of all people to drag you to Krakoa, you had never imagined it would be The Wolverine, Logan. He gave some big spiel about hating yourself ruining it all for you, trust him, he knew. At that point in your life, you didn’t care much, nothing mattered and everything was just a blur, the demon in your chest dormant and worthless.

Krakoa was nice, people even treated you kindly even after your time with the brotherhood. Your suffering must have been so obvious for them to just accept you with such open arms, thinking about it made you cringe. Kurt was still nice. He was older, had the starts of a moustache, and the garb of a priest.

Seeing the outfit made your pupils sharpen and your heart lurch, some deeply ingrained animal reaction. Hearing about the faith he ran, smoothed down some of your sharp scales, something that yes, had its roots in Catholicism, but was so much more accepting and kinder. The thought of being part of it made your mouth sour, but there was also no pressure from anywhere to join.

You and Kurt grew closer, over time. It was a slow and careful path, all your relationships on this island were. But Kurt was special, in the way he smiled, the way he smelled, the way you became so comfortable in his presence that he could sit on your shoulders. And the way you both grew so close, that it didn’t even fell like sin when he kissed you.

Kissing Kurt must have been what Adam and Eve felt when biting the apple, tempted by the snake to break the one rule they were given to follow. And yet, like Adam and Eve, you broke that rule anyways. Kurts’s fur wasn’t long, but it was soft to the touch, some areas longer than others and carrying a natural curl. The scent of sulphur and the incense he would use in his thurible, became what put the demon inside you to rest, for good.

And maybe Kurt was pavloving you a little. It wasn’t on purpose, you think. He would simply regularly wear his priest outfit, his alb, his chasuble, his stole and amice. And he would kiss you and taste like ambrosia, like something worth sinning for. Kurt would smell and taste so divine, and would touch you so lovingly. At times you were scared to touch, fearing you would hurt him too, but even then, Kurt taught you to trust yourself.

So, who could you truly blame for getting heated, whenever you got to watch Kurt dress himself. You didn’t have a tail like he did, but you did bury yourself in your giant shared bed and rumble deep in your chest like the reptile you shared features with. It seemed so sinful and sensual, even if it truly wasn’t his intention. To see how carefully Kurt draped fabric over his body, or how his tail would flick and make the light fabrics flutter. It made a whole never demon inside you yearn.

You didn’t want to dirty his outfit, shaming yourself for even thinking it. How sinful, how evil, how demonic. But it was yet another thing you sucked at hiding, to the point where the other x-men, your friends now, started making jokes that you churred whenever Kurt would flutter by in it.

You denied it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t planned out how to give you what you both wanted. Which was how you found yourself laying back against your many pillows, Kurt in nothing but his alb and prayer beads in your lap, his three fingered hands against your chest.

It still felt so terrifying to indulge in those wants, even as you dug your claws into the bed as Kurt so slowly rode you, his hips moving at a pace that had your toes curling. Anything he did would have most likely had that reaction, but his soft accented voice cooing loving words at you, only served to leave you feeling more melted on the insides.

It was embarrassing how fast you finished. But who could blame you. You never had much experience, hell, you could count on two hands how many times you had ever touched yourself. It was no surprise you would cum so quickly, Kurts’s tail thrashing from side to side as he was filled more than he imagined possible.

His kisses were still just as sweet, as he worked himself over the edge too, dirtying his alb and your scaley stomach. This moment, Kurts’s act of dirtying his uniform himself, seemed to have been the only sign you needed, after that it was free game. He was the apple and the snake at the same time, packaged in blue fur and yellow eyes, his tail curling in coy ways only you knew how to read.

Kurt could never hate it, instead almost preening with pride as you finally let yourself indulge. Fucking him on the altar was a fantasy he had carried for a while, and when you finally did it the blue furred mutant almost passed out from how hard he finished, having to dig his fangs into his stole to keep from wailing at the intensity.

You would never step foot back into religion again, never to the extent where you could call yourself someone of faith, and Kurt would never force you. But you did end up going to Kurts services, on rare occasions, but that was more because you were excited for what would happen afterwards, after everyone else left. There was a demon in your chest, born from your family’s sins, fed by your own and nurtured to destroy. But Kurt tamed it, brushed its fur and held it close. There was a demon, and it was his.

♧ Hello! I'm Finch

- 21, Genderfuild, but idc what you call me :)

-Mostly MDNI page 🤷

-Cat Parent, Writer, and Artist 🎨

- I do tend to get a shit ton of Writers Block unfortunately but I'll try 😅

-DMs are open, Asks are open

Fandoms/Topics I'll write for:

♤Criminal Minds (mostly Spencer Reid)

♤Avatar

♤Sally Face

♤BL/GL

♤BDSM kinks (on ask basis/my kinks or ones I find interesting)

♤Fluff, comfort stories

♤HQs if asked with a prompt, or on my own assessments

Will Not Do:

- Outright Racism

-Homophobia Terminology

-Discuss my political stance

-Abuse (unless it's for character background where they grown from it)

-Animal Abuse

☆☆☆☆☆☆

If I do write Noncon and themes along that, don't just assume that I agree with it. It's writing, I'm not telling you to go do it, I'm not saying I do it.

Honestly as a writer, I don't really have to owe anyone an explanation over my writings. You don't like it? Well, don't read it.

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.