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coochiequeens · 1 year ago

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Old article but worth sharing today for International Day of No Prostitution

October 5th is International Day of No Prostitution. In 2019 we are marking it by remembering the women who didn’t survive prostitution – including all the women whose disappearances and deaths were unmarked and unnoticed – as we resolve to not rest until the vicious system of prostitution is brought to an end.

Remembering the Void by Rebecca Mott

This is written to all the lost prostituted women, whether gone through death or disappearance. I write as one who was lucky enough to exit alive and relatively unscarred.

To write as an exited woman, is to be surrounded by ghosts and the knowledge of death being a norm. So if you choose to say “prostitution is just sex work,” never express that to exited women, most of whom have seen death in the raw, and know of many of our prostituted sisters who have been erased from existence.

To understand prostitution, we must look directly into this abyss and stop turning away from this genocide. Look with courage and fury into the void and show respect to our forgotten sisters by learning from their disappearances or deaths.

To start this journey, we must know and understand that the sex trade has had centuries to become experts at making the prostituted vanish.

The sex trade usually picks females they can easily isolate from family and friends. This may be because of previous abuse, because of being inside a natural or man-made disaster, or the isolation of poverty or racism. These are just the tips of the iceberg that isolates females.

An isolated female is easy to manipulate and gradually make into sexual goods. The main advantage of this isolation is that she becomes a non-human and from there it’s easy to turn her into sexual goods. Sexual goods that will be consumed and then thrown away.

This must be understood: that to be prostituted is to be made subhuman and throwaway. This cannot be stated enough, if we are to get hold of the scale of the deaths and disappearances of the prostituted.

It is claimed that at the minimum, prostituted women and girls are about 12 times more likely to die from male violence than other groups of females of a similar age and background. This will always be an estimate, for most disappearances or deaths of the prostituted are unrecorded.

When I was prostituted, it was common for punters to play at killing me – often saying:

“No-one will look for a dead whore.”

What other job is this normal in?

We get this message in all parts of the culture, such as the trope of murdering whores for crime novels, TV and film scripts. It is ingrained that the deaths or murders of the prostituted are so unimportant, that any serial killer will aim at the prostituted, knowing few will care.

The sex trade is expert at vanishing acts. Most of the disappeared prostituted females have been moved into other areas and more than likely more dangerous aspects of the sex trade. Internal or external trafficking are the main routes to control and silence the prostituted. Every prostitute lives with the threat of more sadism or death as their norm.

The sex trade has learnt over many centuries to clean up after punters kill the prostituted. These deaths are made invisible, for all that matters is more profit and making punters happy. The murdered prostituted are thrown away with no name, no past and no recognition that they were human.

So as we remember the deaths of murdered prostituted females, we will be surrounded by nameless and faceless ghosts crying out to be seen and known.

All the time there is moving remembrance of women murdered by male violence, especially domestic violence. But rarely does this include or even mention the silent genocide of the prostituted.

We let the sex trade win when we ignore these deaths and disappearances. We need to have memorials, marches, and constant reminders for those who lost their names and routes back to a non-prostituted life.

To end, something I wrote long ago:

To be murdered in prostitution is to go from being made sub-human in life to nothing in death.

Crossbones Graveyard

All of the images in this article are photos of Crossbones Graveyard, an un-consecrated plot of ground a short walk from the Globe Theatre in Southwark, where ‘outcasts’ were buried from the 12th century until its closure in 1853. The graveyard’s other name, the ‘single woman’s graveyard,’ hints at who these outcasts were – women not under the patronage of a named man.

The centuries following the late medieval period were a time of brutal disruption for ordinary people as the communal subsistence economy was transformed into a wage-based monetary one. The disruption affected women quite differently from men. The work that women had traditionally done in having and raising children, maintaining (and often also making) the family’s clothing and home environment, growing, gathering or purchasing the family’s food and preparing it, etc. was now defined as non-work and was not remunerated. Men’s work on the other hand was defined as work and was remunerated. As a result, women as a group were systematically deprived of independent means of supporting themselves. This drove women into deeper economic dependence on men.

If they didn’t have a father or husband who could or would support them, many women had little choice but to turn to prostitution. This made them outcasts from mainstream society and defined them as unfit to be buried in consecrated land – while the men who bought them for sexual use were deemed upstanding citizens fit to be buried in the churchyard.

But the hypocrisy didn’t stop there. The brothels in Southwark were licensed for centuries by the Bishops of Winchester who grew rich on the proceeds – which means that the wealth of the Church of England is based in part at least on pimping women.

The development of capitalism was predicated on stripping women of their previous relative economic independence and forcing their dependence on men – either individual men in the family or the free-for-all of prostitution, while the men were given (almost absolute) power over women in return for compliance with their wage masters. This is what Carole Pateman calls the sexual contract and it is the bedrock of the capitalist system

Neither women’s poverty nor prostitution are inevitable. They are a direct result of the deliberate disenfranchisement of women in the system of patriarchy, which slowly morphed into capitalism and now the terrifying no-holds-barred neoliberal capitalism, which threatens to destroy the entire ecosystem on which we all depend.

Crossbones Graveyard is now run by volunteers as a garden of remembrance. Women tie ribbons and mementos to the fence in remembrance of all the outcaste women who are buried there.

If you visit the garden and raise your eyes, you can see the Shard, that modern phallic monument to neoliberal folly and the brutal exploitation of women and colonised peoples everywhere.

Meme for International Day of No Prostitution 2019

#October 5th #International Day of No Prostitution #Rebecca Mott #Nordic Model Now #Rest in Peace Our Forgotten Sisters #Prostituted women are 12 times more likely to die from male violence #What other job is this normal in?#Internal or external trafficking are the main routes to control and silence the prostituted.#To be murdered in prostitution is to go from being made sub-human in life to nothing in death #Single women’s graveyard #The brothels in Southwark were licensed for centuries by the Bishops of Winchester who grew rich on the proceeds #The Church of England #Crossbones Cemetery

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thebraxiatelcollection · 2 years ago

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#in regards to the oceangate drama #i never like laughing at anyones death so to speak and i cant imagine how that poor lad who is only 19 must have been feeling trapped on t #submarine with his dad and other strangers #in such a tight space with no way of getting out from the inside way deep under the sea #wouldn't wish it on anybody #but i do blame the billionaires who knew the risk they were taking with such a sketchy company #watched a documentary where another rich lady said how she been in the same sub and how it had been very touch and go #and that at the beginning of each trip there is a small print sign saying people need to know the risk of never coming back #so part of its on them and on the company for not having the proper equipment and checks #however im also in the believe that the titanic is a GRAVEYARD and it should be well left alone and not a tourist site #its why i dont like these celebrity graveyards in america and there is on in london #i just dont get it #it never appealed to me #even ordinary folks would just go to a famous dead persons grave and take pictures of it #i think the dead should be left alone #also this submarine was UNCERTIFIED

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vole-mon-amour · 2 years ago

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youtube

"The wreckage could be lost forever" so let it?

#titanic #video #no but a hanging chandelier from another video is what gets me #and this is free of charge! in a safety of your own home #I'm literally watching this in my bed rn #idk what those people on the sub were hoping for and why #why do people want to save a shipwreck and a graveyard?#let it rest

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seraxfemme · 10 months ago

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Currently loving the vomit journaling method and my own version of 75 soft really helping me when time is kind of limited and ppl need things from me

#ty to Bunny aka graveyard girl for sharing. I've been subbed to her since i was like 13 or something idk #she's still so relatable at least to me :')#since watching the video where she talks about this I've also been immersed in finding journaling methods and breathing techniques #bc i replaced meditating w that

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priwenshallprevail · 1 year ago

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Continued from : Starter @soncfthewitch

The tarnished Hunter caught wind of the scuffle first by scent. He knew it's spoor, having made track of it before. Spilled identity of vampiric blood. It's vibrant essence infiltrating his thoughts in appeal toward the predator lurking just beneath the surface of his own masquerades. Tension perturbed muscle fibers while constricting under it's sudden, if not panicked, restraint; rigidly poising himself upright. Heavily flaring nostrils pursued with frustration from suffering it's call still. Exaggerating his struggle upon exhale. That rippling pool of power thrumming with temptation behind teeth, behind temples. Coaxing it's reminder to quench oneself, to be endowed with such prowess from it's well of impurity already graciously spilt for him to sup.

Damn tis song -- tat mesmeric drum.

Blood that was defined rich rode swiftly in on tendril currents like some enticing aroma with a meal in promise at the end of it's trail. Enticing him to come hither. Befouling the newborn's instinct enough to have his gum line ache and the back of his throat constrict. Swallowing what felt like knots when his own mouth started to salivate at it's expense. He couldn't help but linger onto an existing thought over it. If he had his mask on to prevent this intrusion, would he have even succumbed to investigate it's source ?

The second intrusion bore down with sharp notes abroad his hearing; distant echoes of the scuffle reverberating off the alley alcove. Shocks of sound leaving wavelet chime in it's wake. While voices were muffled under erratic drumbeats of an organ in distress.

He used both newly acquired traits to track down the mess he may have been too late to be a part of. The scent alone could have easily led him blind. He was too intrigued to simply cast it aside. Intrigued, or hunger drawn ? Intruded the thought. He did manage to catch glimpse of the brunt end of the creature sliding down the wall. Piercing hues but a remnant of their natural state, now stood with an eerie glow in contrast to the darkness which enveloped them.

He considered the incapacitated devil over briefly. It's slumped over state had been enough to give the Irishman amusement. If not perhaps some misplaced gratitude which carried into delivering this loud, obnoxious round of applause. Slightly dulling behind gloved leather bound hands whilst he partially stepped from shadows to unveil himself as the unannounced guest that overstepped his boundaries impudently.

Revealing an athletic build behind tailored attire, leather and an array of heavier fiber layers toned in dull grays and bulked with straps and brass buckles. Double pressed vest with a wool overcoat concealing weapons that lurked between him and the fabric cascade. The hood, though tailed down, hooped with leather amid upper lapel and shoulder pitch, indicating it not part of the original pattern. A gas mask dangling at his chest by it's straps looped around his neck, tidied against a fading burgundy neckerchief.

" Congrads, lad ! Such fervor, such execution -- I love it ! " He practically jeered at the stranger. A smirk corrupting tiers to be tautly tied whilst ethereal bound cobalts lifted in greeting him behind a stare pensively locked.

#IV Main｣ ☥ J̷u̷d̷a̷s̷ D̷e̷c̷e̷i̷v̷e̷d̷#Sub-Verse : Wings of Graveyard Robbed Leather #soncfthewitch #-- I am so sorry this took so damn long !

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divinesolas · 9 months ago

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Ignored

Summary: Based on two requests; You had been best friends with Jacaerys since you were kids. But when he gets a girlfriend and joins the football team in college your whole life gets turned upside down and he's suddenly ditched you. A year after you are confronted by him and emotions spill to the surface.

w.c: 2.7k

c.w: Porn with plot, sub!jace, hand job, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), car sex, im not good at angry sex or mean stuff guys so sorry,

masterlist

One year. one fucking year since you’ve last spoken to him. You never imagined the two of you would end up like this.

He gets on the college football team and gets some hot girlfriend and suddenly he’s too good for you. You doubt he’s even noticed. It was slow to start, he started being busy during your weekly hang outs, then it would slip his mind to text you back, then he just suddenly stopped texting you. You had been replaced, you would always spend the holidays with his family but this past year you had seen Lucerys post on his insta holiday pictures and she was there instead. Everyone else in his family had reached out to you at some point. usually something along the lines of a happy holidays and that they hoped to see you soon, that they missed you. They even wished you happy birthday. He didn’t.

You had gotten to the point you stopped answering his family's texts, it made you feel sick when Lucerys asked if you would come to his birthday party and you didn’t have the heart to reply to him. You stopped checking their socials, even going as far as to mute them but you didn’t have the heart to unfollow them. then it would get too real, that the people you’ve considered family since you were basically a baby were no longer around.

You wish you didn’t miss him. You wish when started at your aunts gravestone he was not the face that appeared in your mind when you wished you had someone to comfort you. She had died six months ago, you hadn’t even bothered to text him about it. He met her a couple times, but its not like he would care now.

You do not cry for her anymore. Having come far enough in your grief, but you feel yourself come to a halt when you are walking through the graveyard and are stopped by a familiar family.

“Y/n?” You feel a knot grow in your throat. Why were they here? you could see lucerys was holding some flowers. “Hello.” What else are you supposed to say? You are frozen in place as lucerys walks over and throws his arms around you. “I missed you.” You try not to let your tears spill down your face as Lucerys pulls back and looks at you alarmed, “Are you okay?”

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, unable to even describe what you’re feeling. “You’re so tall.” Your voice cracks as you speak and he slaps you on the shoulder. “’Course i am, had to get taller than mr prince charming over there.”

You don’t want to look at him. You wish he was not even there. But you cannot help yourself the way your eyes drift to where Lucerys is referring to and you wish you hadn’t. He is as beautiful as he was the last day you saw him, he looks like he just came out of a romcom, a long trench coat covering him and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. You have no clue what he’s thinking, his face giving nothing away, cant take your eyes off him. The way his eyes have a gloss over them as he takes a couple steps towards you.

You swiftly turn away from his and notice rhaenyra standing at your side and she reaches out a grips your forearm. “It is so wonderful to see you dear.” You nod and smile at her, “It is always a pleasure Ms. Targaryen.” she hits your arm, “You stay away for a couple months and suddenly I’m Ms. Targaryen, call me rhaenyra dear you know better.” You want to correct her, tell her its been over a year. yet you don't, only nodding and apologizing to her.

“What are you doing here?” Its the first words he’s said to you in god knows how long. You swear your knees almost crumple at the sound of his voice. You want to punch him, spit in his face, you wish you hated him. “My aunt died.” You spit at the ground, you voice coming out angrier than you indented it to.

The people around you immediately flood around to give their condolences. You thank them, Lucerys especially kept you in a deep hug and mentioned how they came today to see rhaenyra's father but they'll make sure to stop by your aunt’s grave.

He says nothing. nothing at all. You hate him. You hate him so much. But you cant say no when they ask if you’ll join them to see viserys and your aunt. you cant even say no when they offer you to join them for dinner.

you two say nothing to each other, not until you say you’ll drive in your car on the way there and turn to walk towards it, still having the map to their house memorized until you are stopped, a hand gripping on your forearm.

“Can i ride with you?” You don't turn around to look at him. Continuing to stare straight ahead, your heart and head churning. You want to tell him no, that you don't wish to ever even see him again. “Please.”

“Fine.”

But you're a pussy. the biggest punk in the whole world as you watch him slide into the passenger seat as you close the drivers door. A silence fills the space between you two, you don't want to speak, a part of you hopes it will stay that way.

“What happened with us?” You harshly break at the red light and whip your head towards him. Rage boiling at your skin as you hiss at him, “What happened? What do you mean what happened? You're the one who ditched me!”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” “Oh so you’re just gonna act like you didn't fucking stop talking to me after you a girlfriend? What is her name? i don't even fucking know because you never introduced us.” A loud honk behind you forced you to turn your head away from him and back on the road, you swear your knuckles turned white from the pressure you were squeezing it.

“i-” “No. Because you know what Jace. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid face and your stupid girlfriend and your stupid friends because you fucking left me. You have no reason to sit around and ask me what the fuck happened between us because it was all because of you. i put in the effort to reach out i even sent you a fucking gift for your birthday because you couldn't spare the time to hang with me and you don't even text me a happy fucking birthday?!? Fuck you man.”

Your hands slam down on the wheel in frustration as you clench your jaw, the fucking nerve of this guy. You don’t even spare him another glance and he doesn't dare to say anything else for awhile. the drive is long, they were buried far out from your homes so the drive was over an hour.

it takes twenty minutes before he says anything. “I’m sorry.” It comes out strained, if you looked at him he would probably be crying but you do not dare look at him. “I wish i could explain to you why i did it, why i acted like that. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry i just think i liked the attention, i liked having people fawn over me. And her, fuck i don't know, i liked her sure, but she fucking cheated on me with one of the guys on the team, told me she only got with me to get closer to him. Its not an excuse, i should have never put what we had down the drain for someone that never really mattered because you, you matter to me more than anyone else. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, ill say it forever because i don't deserve your forgiveness.”

You pull over into a road side parking lot because you couldn't see the road anymore. Your eyes filled with tears as your shoulders shook with silent sobs, “I am sorry i made you feel this way, that you couldn't even come to me when she died, i liked it, i remember she gave me the toy car display i still have in my room fuck i can't even imagine how you must feel. I miss you. I miss you so much.”

You put your head against the wheel and allow yourself to sob. This is all you’ve wanted to hear for so long that now you have no clue how to feel. You want to tell him to fuck off. That he has no reason to be begging for your forgiveness now.

“Jacaerys,” You swear you hear it wrong, that you must be confused. He whimpers. “No please,” “Its dragged out in a way that has your stomach churning and you shift in your seat. “Don’t call me Jacaerys, Jace please.”

You must be strong. You cannot give into to his sad puppy eyes and cries. Yet you look over to him and feel your resolve crumble. He has tears streaming down his face. He’s looking at you. Has he been looking at you this whole time? “You left me Jace.” He lets out a trembled breath as he dares with shaky hands to grab yours. “I'm sorry. I will beg you to forgive me till the end of time because i will never deserve it. I need you.”

Your heart pounds against your chest as the two of you stare at one another. You feel your hands shake in his grip as the two of you unknowingly move closer to each other.

“I realized after i found out what she had done i was more upset about the fact you were not there more than anything. She had begged me to take her back but the only thing i could think about was you. I was so stupid and so blind i will never forgive myself. You are everything to me.”

“Jace,” He cups your cheeks and lets out a trembled breath, “I was a fool to let you go. I will never make that mistake again,” You cannot believe what is happening, he does not truly mean what you think he’s saying does he? “I had months to think it over. I am so madly in love with you. If you do not feel the same i will act like this never happened and we can just go back to being friends or even if you cannot stomach being around me we can just never talk but-”

He lets out a surprised moan as you shove your lips against his and eagerly pressed his lips against yours. He a lot more vocal than you had expected him to be, eagerly humming against your lips as his hands have moved to your neck.

He lets out a shocked gasp when you push him back into his seat and looks at you with wide eyes as you climb over his lap, pulling the level to have him lay over his back and simply stare at him as you hover above him. He whimpers as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards your face, “This is for me. Not you. Right?” He eagerly nods, more than willing to take anything you’ll give him.

He whines as you unbutton his black dress pants and waste no time shoving your hand past his boxers and gripping onto his dick. His head is thrown backwards as you rub your thumb against his tip, ignoring his mumbles until enough precum has dripped down onto your hand before you begin vigorously pumping him up and down.

You do not stop even as he’s asking you to slow down. Well you do, but it is always right before he’s about to come. You do this again. and again. and again. He feels like he’s about to burst, the stimulation is too much for him to bare.

“Please.” You tilt your head at him as he grips the front of your button down shirt. “What do you want?” Your words are spoken like he a stranger approaching you on the street, he whimpers and shoves his head into your chest, his tears threatening to spill out. “Please,”

“awe are you so fucked out you have no clue what you’re talking about huh?” He’s babbling nonsense as you feel his tears pool into your shirt. You fully remove your hands off him for the fourth time and he thinks he might crack. “Please no I’m sorry I’m sorry please please just let me,,” His words trail off as he watches you fully release him from his pants and boxers, his breath shaky as he watches you pool up your shirt and move to hover above him.

“Please please.” “Shut the fuck up.” He whimpers as his tip presses against your folds but you don’t him in enter yet, simply allowing his tip to be dragged up and down your slit. He throws his head back as the tears continue to flow down his face, he can’t take this, his hips rise up to try and thrust into you but you hold him down and spit at him. “You don’t know how to behave slut.”

He lets out a surprised gurgle of sounds when you suddenly slam all the way down onto him and lightly slap him across the face. “Are you happy now slut? You happy your little loser friend is fucking you stupid?”

He can barely speak as you begin to bounce up and down on him. He’s dreamed of this for much longer than he’d like to admit but this is much better than anything he could have imagined. The way your lightly let out sounds of delight are like music to his ears. He wishes he could say something but over the heat that flows over his body and the way he feels your hands slip under his shirt and begin to rub up and down his chest he can’t find the words.

He keeps his hands at his side, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you not wishing to upset you more than he already has. You notice the way his hands twitch and slightly raise as if he wants to reach out to you. You slow down for a moment to grab his hands and place them on your chest, a wordless exchange between the two of you as he stares at you in wonder. So much love fills his gaze you almost flush with embarrassment. You begin to pick up your pace once again as he fondles you over your clothes.

The pit grows larger in his stomach much faster than he would like but due to the overstimulation and the overflowing of emotions he’s on the edge. “I’m so close.”

“Hold it.” He whines and watches as one of your hands slip under your skirt, “You think you should be allowed to cum before me?” He shakes his head, of course not, he doesn’t deserve too.

He swears he almost cums from your blissed out face alone, but he is surprised he manages to contain himself until he feels you throb and your essence drips around him. You slowly lift off him and pump him until his cum drips down your hands.

The car windows are foggy, you have no clue how long you’ve been out here but the sun as begun to set as you allow yourself to fall against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically as his arms come to wrap around you.

“I don’t forgive you,” He feels his heart drop as he gulps, bracing himself for you to lift off him and drop him off at his house, never to speak to him again. “But i think i can one day, you just have to take me out on a couple dates first.”

He grins.

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

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translation-graveyard · 1 month ago

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Ubawareta Bokutachi (2024) ENG SUBS

You can reach out if any of the links break so I can upload them back up.

HARD SUBS ONLY (For the time being)

Episode 1: DailyMotion / Download Episode 2: DailyMotion / Download Episode 3: DailyMotion / Download Episode 4: DailyMotion / Download Episode 5: GDrive / Download It was blocked due to copyright Episode 6 (Special): DailyMotion / Download [END]

Huge thanks to @/etsuzans on tw for bringing this series into my radar. Since it's such a short one here's a dump post with all of them. Enjoy and comment your thoughts on the series, I want to read them ( ´ ω ` )ノﾞ They've been stuck in my mind for weeks. As a celebration for the recent event where they reunited lol Also the song slaps so hard, the whole soundtrack does.

Raws courtesy of DramaClub Special thanks to DONUT for helping out with the proofreading and QC, really smoothed out those edges.

What is a Mitsumi?

#Ubawareta bokutachi #eng subs #Subs26 #subtitle-graveyard

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skywalkerslvt · 2 months ago

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Grave Desires- Leon Kennedy x AFAB reader

❥Pairing: Leon Kennedy x AFAB reader

❥CW: smut, p in v, handjobs, crying kink, sub leon, sex in public, sex in a graveyard, 1.2k words

❥Summary: You ride Leon in a graveyard. that's it

❥a/n: thank you to everyone who voted on my post abt this fic!! hope y'all like this lil thing i wrote (i wanna fuck someone in a graveyard). btw asks are open so feel free to send requests <3 pics are from pinterest

The graveyard was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides. Leon followed closely behind you, his flashlight beam jittering slightly as his hand shook. He wasn’t scared, not really—at least that’s what he told himself—but the dark, looming headstones and the faint whisper of wind made his skin crawl.

“You’ve gotta stop dragging me to creepy places like this,” he muttered, his voice lower than usual.

You turned to him with a wicked grin, your eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “What, you don’t like it? Thought you were tougher than this, Kennedy.”

He scowled, his jaw tightening. “I am. It’s just… weird. Why here?”

“Why not?” you countered, taking his free hand and pulling him toward a secluded corner of the graveyard. “It’s private, it’s quiet… and no one would ever think to look for us here.”

Leon hesitated, his pulse quickening—not from fear, but from the way you looked at him, your grin sharp and teasing. He was already half-hard just from the idea that you might want to do something risky, but the location had him teetering between excitement and dread.

“You dragged me out here just to scare me, didn’t you?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed but failing as you pushed him gently against a tall headstone.

“Scare you? No, no…” You stepped closer, your body pressing against his. “I brought you here because I wanted to see if you could handle me in a place like this.”

Leon swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “I—”

“You want me to stop?” you asked, your voice dropping to a low purr as your fingers slid down his chest, tracing the lines of his jacket.

Leon shook his head quickly, his words catching in his throat as your hand settled over the bulge in his jeans.

“That’s what I thought,” you murmured, squeezing him gently.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“You’re so eager already,” you teased, popping the button on his jeans. “Did you come out here hoping I’d touch you, Leon? Hoping I’d make you feel good?”

He whimpered softly, his head falling back against the cold stone. “You— You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” you said, your tone laced with mischief as you slid your hand into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Leon groaned, his hips bucking into your hand. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he managed, though the words came out breathless and needy.

“And you love it,” you shot back, stroking him slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the way his body trembled under your touch.

Leon’s breathing grew heavier, his moans spilling into the night as you worked him over. “Someone—someone could hear us,” he panted, but his hips told a different story, grinding into your hand as though he couldn’t help himself.

“Let them,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Let them hear how desperate you are for me.”

His legs wobbled slightly, his hands clinging to the headstone behind him for support as you picked up the pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, don’t stop,” he begged, his voice cracking as he teetered on the edge.

Just as the words left his mouth, your hand left his pants, leaving him hard and aching. Before he could open his mouth in protest, you pushed on his shoulder, signalling him to drop to his knees.

“On your back, and take your pants off,” you demanded, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Leon quickly obeyed, shoving his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs, and laying back on the cold, damp ground. You moved to straddle him, your skirt riding up slightly as you took your seat.

“You really brought me here to do this?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his wide, blue eyes searched your face. “You’re insane…”

“Maybe,” you replied with a teasing smirk, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall as he struggled to catch his breath. “But you came along, didn’t you?”

Leon groaned, tilting his head back against the cool stone behind him. His face was flushed, his hands twitching as if he didn’t know where to put them. You grabbed his wrists, pressing them firmly into the ground above his head.

“Keep them there,” you ordered, leaning down so your lips brushed the shell of his ear.

He whimpered, nodding quickly. “O–okay,” he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

You straddled his lap, feeling the heat radiating from him even through the thin barrier of your panties. Leon’s breath hitched, his hips jerking up instinctively, desperate for more contact.

“Stay still,” you warned, dragging your nails lightly down his chest.

“I can’t,” he whined, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked again. “Please… I need you so bad.”

Your smirk widened as you slipped your panties to the side, reaching down to guide him to your entrance. His cock was already dripping, the head flushed and aching.

“Oh, Leon,” you cooed mockingly, sinking down onto him inch by inch. “You’re so needy, aren’t you?”

Leon gasped loudly, his hands balling into fists above his head as he fought the urge to grab you. “Y-Yeah,” he admitted, his voice hitching. “Please… please move. I— I can’t take it.”

You rolled your hips slowly, savouring the way he shuddered beneath you, his whimpers filling the air. His eyes squeezed shut, and you noticed the faintest glimmer of tears clinging to his lashes.

“You’re gonna cry for me, pretty boy?” you teased, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He whimpered again, his hips jerking despite your earlier command. “Feels too good,” he mumbled, his voice breaking as his head tilted back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat. “I— I can’t…”

You ground down on him harder, drawing out a loud, broken moan that echoed through the graveyard. His tears finally spilled over, tracking down his flushed cheeks as his body tensed beneath you.

“Aw, Leon,” you whispered, leaning down to lick the salty trail from his face. “You’re such a good boy for me, letting me use you like this.”

His hands shot up despite your earlier command, gripping your hips desperately. “Please, please,” he chanted, his voice high and desperate as his fingers dug into your skin.

You picked up the pace, riding him harder, each bounce of your hips driving him closer to the edge. “You wanna finish, baby?” you asked, your tone dripping with mock sympathy.

“Yes!” he practically sobbed, his nails digging into your hips as his entire body trembled. “Please let me… please…”

With a final roll of your hips, he broke beneath you, his release tearing through him as his cries filled the still night air. You smirked down at him, his cheeks wet with tears and his chest heaving.

“Good boy,” you purred, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “You did so well for me.”

Leon’s lip quivered, his eyes hazy as he gazed up at you, completely spent but utterly satisfied. “Anything for you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but sincere.

#sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction

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skzdarlings · 3 months ago

Text

the kiss ; skz ; lee know x reader

pairing: lee know/reader content info: friends to lovers, established friends w benefits but they are in love, your honour. reader is a gnc woman. top!reader, bottom!minho, some light dom!reader, sub!minho. mahandling, teasing, handjobs, rimming, spitting, strap-ons, mentions of past pegging, mentions of spanking/belting, lots of smooching word count: 3000 words.

this was originally going to be a multi-part story but i changed my mind thus this went to die in my graveyard of scraps. however i love this couple and i liked this scene and it seemed a shame to not post it at all haha. hopefully others will enjoy it too :)

Raising your kid brother means you will forever occupy the nebulous, fucked up space of Not-Your-Parent, Still-Your-Mom, even when said kid brother has long stopped being a kid. Jeongin will always be your first priority.

Minho knows it too. He has been your best friend for several years now. He knows you. He knows you will always stop what you’re doing if Jeongin needs you.

Even at the tragic expense of an orgasm.

It’s two o-clock in the morning, an hour after you got off work bartending. Minho has to be up for his office job in four hours so he was grumbly when your horny ass woke him up with a bulge pic. You like to consider yourself above obnoxious hormone-driven decisions, but that’s before the strap-on straps on. Several inches of silicone later and you’re taking (tasteful) fake-dick dick pics in the bar bathroom.

Minho answers the door shirtless, his grey sweatpants betraying his already chubbed up semi, and with an extraordinarily icy glare that not even his sleep-mussed blonde hair can diminish. He snarks at you until you curl your fingers into his dark roots and yank.

It takes only minutes to manhandle him back into his bed, moments to get his sweatpants off, and seconds to have your fingers around his throat and his dick gliding through your spit-wet fist.

You end up horizontal across the middle of his big bed. You’re still in a t-shirt and jeans, your boots and leather jacket somewhere on the floor. Minho is naked and covered in little love bites, his body a fading canvas of your previous times together. The sight never fails to make you ache, your fingers tracing the evidence of your own hungry desires.

You kneel between his open legs and he impatiently pries open your belt. His mouth ticks up in an amused grin as you let him whip the belt out of its loops. He tosses it behind him, his smile a smidgeon cocky even while on his back.

You would never call him cute, because he’d probably slap and correct you (he’s handsome, thank you very much), but he is. Cute. Sweet. The way he cocks his head, the way he gazes up at you. There’s an erratic heartbeat in both your cunt and actual heart, the latter more pronounced than usual. Your eyes have already adjusted but the blue darkness of his bedroom seems fuzzier, everything around him disappearing in a blurry smog of relative insignificance.

“You’re staring,” he says, his fingers crawling under your shirt. His knuckles brush your nipple through your sports bra. He pulls a face when he pinches it meanly.

You grab both his wrists and yank his hand out of your shirt. He does not look remotely chagrined, instead he is beaming with satisfaction, like he was the one who planned your reaction.

You pin his hands above his head then lean over him. His playful arrogance fades, his gaze jumping to your mouth then back to your eyes. It brings your attention to his mouth, pink and wet, his bottom lip plump and bitten from his own teeth running over it.

You have kissed him before. It isn’t a habit but also isn’t strange. You were the first to ever initiate a kiss. It was the third time you slept together and the first time you properly came from fucking someone. The base of a toy in a strap-on can sometimes provide some stimulation against your clit, depending on a few factors, but you usually have to be pretty worked up to even get close.

He got you more than close, taking you right over the edge. You all but fell onto him with the desperation of your kiss. His ankles were hooked behind your back, his face warm where your thumb stroked his skin, where you raked fingers into his sweaty hair as you sunk deep inside him with dick and tongue at once.

You usually kiss like that: in the throes of something especially electrifying. You think this might be the first time you kiss him so simply, just like this, with clarity and consciousness, spurred by affection more than thoughtless passion. A deliberate kiss, as you lean down and do just that, his lips warm and open against yours.

His eyes close, his brow furrows.

The thing about Minho that turns you on the most is how he… well, how he Minhos. His smirking, his snarking, his fake impatience, how much he dishes out. He’s your friend, someone you’ve sat beside on weekend camping trips, resting in comfortable silence around a fire while Jeongin and his friends cause a ruckus somewhere down on a beach. Minho will sit on your couch with his feet in your lap, his hat backwards, wearing glasses so he can read the nutritional content on a snack bag while you carelessly scarf down its contents. He’ll tease you kindly, let you playfully knock your knuckles under his chin. He’ll cook you meals when you haven’t eaten all day, too busy with everything to take care of yourself, but he’ll wave away any expression of gratitude after the fact. He’s good, utterly, but he likes to be trouble too.

And that’s what really gets you going, something you admit can’t be replicated with any other lover. Because they aren’t Minho. And that’s the best part.

Like this. Playful and catty and mad you woke him when he has work tomorrow, but turning soft and pliant under your body. His brow is drawn tight as you kiss him, like he can’t comprehend the sheer pleasure of it. He breathes in through the kiss, a trembling breath that flutters on your lips, then he cranes his neck to kiss you again.

You press his head into the bed. Somewhere in the simmering warmth of your kiss, your hands shift so your fingers lace and push against the bed. He makes a keening sound, his back arching, kiss breaking with a deep breath as his hips and cock and thighs make contact with your jeans.

He turns his face to the side and closes his eyes. His chest moves with the quickness of his breathing, somehow looking like you’ve fucked for him hours when all you’ve really done is kiss him.

His fingers tighten around yours when you kiss his exposed cheek, down his jaw, down his neck. He rips his hands out from under yours only to throw them around your shoulders. His fingers dive into your hair, rough and demanding when he pulls your head back to his. His mouth opens for a kiss, his tongue slashing against yours when you give it to him. You kiss him hard, kiss him until his fingers go weak and his arms are shaky, clinging to your neck like a lifeline.

“That’s it, baby. So good,” you say, a slur of words without thinking too hard. You blink with some amazement at the noise he makes, the way his whole body rears up against yours. You cradle his hips and lick his red over-kissed mouth.

Then your phone buzzes. He hears it first, or at least registers the reality of it first, head whipping to his bedside table where you left it. He is already glaring when you lift your face. Your head is spinning, your mouth as raw as his.

He digs his fingernails into your back through your t-shirt. He has also painted something of a mosaic there, faded thin lines from overeager fingers scratching when you fuck him. You obviously cannot directly feel when you are inside him, but he makes sure you feel it other ways. Sometimes you feel it for days.

He’s still glaring. God, that expression really does get you so hot. You are literally throbbing under the silicone in your jeans.

“You’re going to check that, aren’t you, asshole,” he says with more resignation than genuine malice.

“I should,” you say. “Just in case it’s—”

He makes a noise that starts as a sigh and turns to a scream. You rub your ear after.

“Your dick isn’t even real,” he says, throwing an arm over his eyes, “and you still manage to disappoint me.”

You laugh, so fond of him. Your pounding heart is not slowing down. It’s hard to look away from him, though you manage it long enough to see your phone light up with a text alert.

He grabs your chin, turning your face back to his.

“Make me come first, or I’m biting it,” he says.

“B-biting what?”

“Your dick. I’ll chew the head off.”

“Please don’t gnaw on my dick. It was expensive.”

“Orgasm. Now.”

He throws his arms out to the sides, eyebrows lifted in an expression of pointed expectation.

His position briefly reminds you of the first time you ever did this, years ago. You never complained about the obligations that came with raising Jeongin, but it wasn’t exactly easy. Between leaving school to work and shirking your social life, you made more than a few sacrifices. You off handedly expressed the vaguest desire for something more substantial than one night stands but not as serious as a relationship, given your responsibilities, and Minho replied by throwing his arms up and giving you that exact same look.

Well? his challenging eyes have always said. You have never backed down from a challenge.

You run your hands down his sides. His arms jerk because it tickles, but you hold him down to lick and bite from hip to pit to shoulder. He wriggles under you, his breath getting shallower. His dick twitches when your hand curls tightly around it.

You know how to make him come quickly. You know his body like a well-loved song, every peak and crescent long since memorized.

You manhandle him onto his front. He gives in when you push down his head and shoulders, lets his knees push his backside up, up, up. His toes curl and uncurl, his voice breaking into choppy little mewls that make you throb. You spit on his hole and your mouth chases it, tongue doing what your dick would have done. Your other hand is under him, stroking in steady tandem.

You don’t rush. It won’t take long anyway because he isn’t trying to hold back.

That makes you wonder, for a moment. If he even could hold his orgasm. Your sex doesn’t exactly resemble conventional intercourse between a man and a woman so it’s not usually too important if he stays very hard or not, greedy with his orgasms and never restraining long. Denial isn’t something you’ve ever played with. Prolonged orgasm control is something of a commitment in its own right. Years ago, when you started this, you were avoiding those commitments.

Now… Well, Jeongin is older, living in a university dorm. You live in a flat on your own. You aren’t seeing anyone else and haven’t so much as hooked up with a stranger in months. You know Minho hasn’t slept with anyone else in more than a year.

You think about how he kissed you back. You think of his backwards hats, his laughter, his sighing as he wraps himself around you.

You imagine slowing your touch, telling him to hold it. Don’t come. Because I’m going to fuck you tomorrow, because you’re mine, and I want you ready for it.

Your mouth gets him wet enough that spit runs down his skin. You circle your thumb around his rim, press in, and murmur, “Wish I could come inside you.”

He comes like that, shoving his face into the bedcovers to stifle his strangled yell. Minho is always loud when he finishes, maybe something to do with being an only child and latchkey kid to boot. He has lived alone for most of his life so he has never had a reason to be quiet. As someone who comes silently, you like it, that unabashed eruption of pleasure that he can’t really hide.

You nip the curve of his ass and narrowly dodge the backward swipe of his hand. He keeps his face buried in the blanket, grumbling nonsense as he finally lowers his hips. You straddle his ass and smooth your hands up his spine, watching him shudder under your touch. You run your hands up and up, over his shoulders to cup his face and lift it out of the blankets.

“Up more,” you say.

He’s always at his nicest and most obedient right after coming. With only a little huff, he pushes his torso up and tips his head back. His eyes flick up to where you lean over him. The bulge of your packed toy is sitting on his ass.

“Open,” you say.

He opens his mouth, still gazing up and back at you. Those dark eyes make all the blood in your heart rush lower, thumping frantically. His head falls all the way back when your hands circle his throat to hold him there. He only closes his eyes when you spit in his mouth, lips closing around it as he moans like you just gave him the sweetest gift in the world.

“Good,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

He groans and flops back down, then brings his arms forward to fold and cushion them under his head. He lifts his hips to grind his ass against your bulge, probably smirking into his elbow.

“Better check your phone,” he says. He yelps when you slap his ass.

“You’re lucky you tossed that belt away, smartass,” you say.

That degree of playing is also not something you have ever done, though you’ve skirted the idea once or twice. Your red handprint on his ass attests to it.

“Promises, promises,” he mutters.

You are tempted to give him another smack for good measure, but it will only work you up more. Instead you muster the resolve to pull away. His discarded sweatpants are the closest fabric so you wipe your hands on it. It earns your own backside a smack as you crawl to his bedside table.

“Hey,” you say, menacing but humorously so.

He knows you have no intention of following through with any threats, so he clamps both hands on your ass and squeezes. He cackles evilly before rolling out of arm’s reach.

Shaking your head and smiling, you check your phone. It is Jeongin. You can’t help but facepalm when you read his message.

Hi it’s Jeongin from family. Your brother Jeongin. Hello. We went to a Party far away and Uber dropped us off but now they don’t have anyone to pick us up!! :( Please rescue us. There are woods and trees and maybe bears. and we are drunk. Nothing Illegal

Ah, fuck. Nothing says illegal substance like swearing the opposite unprompted. You would know; before your parents died, you were indubitably on track to being the problem child. Your first year of university was a mess you intended to straighten out later, but later never came. Your parents died, Jeongin was still a minor, and you made a series of hard choices overnight.

After all these years, you’re still not sure if your wayward experiences made you a better pseudo-parent or a worse one. Maybe ignorance would have made you less panicky all the time. Maybe it would have made you worse.

Minho ducks into the bathroom while you text with Jeongin. You are lacing up your boots when Minho returns with your toothbrush, one he keeps for your overnight visits. Looking at his thighs in his boxers, the hickey poking out just under the hem, makes you wish tonight was one of those nights. Tragically, the only one being deprived of an orgasm is you.

You scrub the brush around your mouth, just enough, then swallow. He leaves again, your eyes on every step of his retreat.

“You’re staring again,” he says from the bathroom.

“Duh,” you say. You go back to tying your boots but your mind is elsewhere. You are thinking about Jeongin and his friends, of course, but you are also thinking about Minho. A lot about Minho. Mostly about Minho. Arousal is still coursing through your veins, never mind all the emotions you kept so carefully tucked away for so long.

Suddenly, it’s all you can think about. He’s all you can think about.

Minho kneels behind you on the bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He kisses behind your ear, then your neck, your clothed shoulder. Your fingers dance anxiously over your knees.

“Don’t tempt me,” you say.

It isn’t a joke but he laughs, mistaking it for one. “Sure,” he says. “You just can’t take your own teasing.”

“Minho.”

“Tyrant.”

You turn, grasping his chin so quickly he gasps. You guide his face to yours and kiss him.

This kiss is slower, bold and open-mouthed. Hot. His moan is a light sound at the back of his throat and it zaps through you like an electric bolt. He drags his nails down the middle of your back, making every hair stand on end. When the kiss eventually comes apart, he presses his forehead to yours.

You are both breathing hard.

“I’m not working tomorrow night,” you say, your voice a low rumble. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip. “Can I come over?”

He nods. Minho can be loud to say the least, but sometimes his voice gets so delicate that it turns your brain to mush. He talks like that now, all soft and sweet, so close to your mouth. “You promised to fuck me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be thinking about it all day now.”

“Me too,” you say.

“Mm.” He flops over and rolls so his back is to you. “That’s too bad for you.” He accompanies this comment with a wiggle of his hips.

You can’t help but smile at him.

“See you then, brat,” you say.

“You’ll see me in your dreams,” he says, accompanying it with a dramatic yawn. “And when you masturbate tonight. Good night!”

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #lee know x you #lee minho x you

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oceanreveuse · 4 months ago

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CIRCE !!!! look at ur megamind omgomgomg i got so excited looking through the prompts eeeeeeeks . . . . if your event is still open , wld u perhaps be so kind to do an wriothesley x reader . . with hybrid dom wolf!wrio + sub puppy!reader ? (⊃‿⊂) (⊃‿⊂) (⊃‿⊂) eheheeeee crawls out of ur inbox silently but not without giving u a goodbye forehead kissie ily i hope october is kind :< ♡ !!!!

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘆.

◟dom!wrio, sub!reader, fem!reader, hybrids au, slight brat taming, wolf!wrio, puppy!reader, a little dumbification hinted, deepthroating & face fucking, petnames (pup, darling), dacryphilia?, reader is in a skirt, not proofread rn, messy canine lovin' ! ◟anastasia's footnote : miss yingie !! ueueue thank u for this req omg hims.. hims !! wrio girlies always think alike huh >3< this ended up waaaaaay longer than intended eek !! | graveyard of the siren event

the fortress is always filled with some sort of chill and heating is sparse, leaving residents of the fortress of meropide to get by on their own body heat. WRIOTHESLEY is well aware as a puppy that this is easier said than done with your little wagging tail and floppy ears that can't hold themselves up so he sees it upon himself to assist during the harsh fontaine winters. as the big, bad, 'scary' (he could almost laugh humourlessly) wolf of the fortress, wriothesley sees you as his responsibility.

mechanical clinks of cogs turning and machinery turning echo throughout the metal walls of the fortress, all the way to the administrative zone where wriothesley's thick walled office sits. the soundproofing drowns out the industrial sounds just a little but more importantly, it drowns out your pathetic cries and whimpers when the duke doesn't drop everything to give you attention.

"wriooo~" you whine, tucked nicely under his desk with a woven blanket over your body - your favourite spot to curl up, a flustered cheek pushed up against his calf. occasionally wriothesley would run a large calloused hand over your hair, soothing the strands or curls on your head to the rhymic beat of that little puppy tail thumping against the cold metal floor you'd long forgot about when the duke had brought you a plush cushion for you to sit on - something about your knees? you weren't really too sure, you were just glad that the wolf was okay with you being so clingy.

sometimes.

sometimes the wolf was okay with you being clingy.

wriothesley understood that the dumb little head on your shoulders couldn't comprehend the idea of personal space, he'd long came to terms with that when he'd taken you under his tail, sharp teeth bared at the predator hybrids circling you like you were weak prey but archons... oh archons... he wished you understood sometimes. your small hands paw at his legs, almost wanting to dig those claw-like nails into the fabric of his pants as you let out yet another whine.

he could take the time to play with your soft floppy ears and the hair on your head so why couldn't he spare you even a glance? what was so interesting on all that paperwork that he'd growl when you got too handsy? puffing out your cheeks, you nuzzle against his thick thigh once again, brushing your nose against the musky scent on the fabric. his heavy boot taps the floor once in warning - you're getting too bold, too desperate for a fraction of attention.

it only serves to fuel your needs, your tail thumping against his desk as you shift on your knees, closer to a spot between his boots, wriothesley all too aware of you. in fact the wolf is hyperaware, icy eyes flitting down to your spot under his desk periodically when you're not catching his warnings; you're not catching them or you're blatantly ignoring them, either way he's already settling with the idea of teaching you to heed these warnings in his head.

"pup, i'm working," he states firmly, his voice a little raspy from the way you're pawing your way ever higher to the growing bulge in his pants. he's certain you're aware of it and he can't stop the burning feeling in his abdomen when your pretty eyes blink up at him so innocently, "later, okay?"

"now," you whimper, jutting out your lower lip as wriothesley's tail straightens, freezing in place from its idle swaying. it's like that one word set off a blaze in him, just how untamed was you? perhaps it was his influence as a wolf on you, he'd truly been treating you like a wolf pup and not some pampered domesticated dog.

the rough pads of wriothesley's fingers dig into your hair, the handful he grabs gentle despite the feral urge in him tearing at his skin. he tilts your head back, icy blue eyes fighting to not soften in light of those puppy dog eyes, staring at him so needily with that pout. he can't keep letting you get away with this behaviour, you're too spoiled and wriothesley's jaw tightens as he debates whether to scold you now or later.

the warm palm of your hand falls flat against wriothesley's now prominent bulge and a sharp intake of breath comes from the high and mighty duke of the fortress, tugging on your hair as his other large hand comes to grip your chin, "you want some attention that much? too bad, you've gotta learn your lesson. i've been way too soft with you, pup."

with the confused look on your sweet face, the tense air of the office is cut open by the clinking of wriothesley's belt unbuckling, a little incoherently when he attempts it one handed to keep his hand in your hair. he shoots a wary glance at the stairs of his office but any semblance of a doubtful thought is shattered when you press a kiss to his hard length through the cloth of his boxers.

your fingertips are cold, almost as icy as the cryo vision hanging on the shoulder of the duke's cape when they tuck into the waistband of his boxers, easing the fabric down those beefy thighs and for a moment he has to process, the cogs turning his head as his cock springs free and there's a delightful, excited look about your eyes. he's letting you do what you want again, easing you into the idea that you're getting exactly what you want until he can flip the coin. you'll learn, he'll make sure you'll learn.

wriothesley watches intently as the wet warmth of your tongue drags up the vein on the underside of his cock, a surprisingly sharp intake of breath slipping through his cracked lips. he can't take his eyes off the sight even if he knows he should, his fingers gripping the paperwork in his hold just a little tighter but it's enticing to see such a sweet puppy eager to please, for one chance to wrap her lips around him and god, does he know it.

puppy dog eyes stare straight up at him as you take inch by inch of his cock into your mouth, down that tight throat of yours that almost teases him for what you have hidden away under that pleated skirt he brought you on your last trip to the surface. just when you think you're the boss, the top dog of the office for just a moment, wriothesley's hand in your hair tugs hard, pushing your nose in the dark curls of hair at the base of his length.

you let out a muffled whimper, whining as your hands paw at his legs, trying to push your head back for any chance to breathe in air that isn't his signature scent you adore so bad. wriothesley has to take a moment, his broad back slightly arched off his chair as he groans and his head falls back, dark grey wolf ears standing at attention when the duke resists the urge to roll his pelvis against your mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat.

"you wanted this, didn't you, pup?" he mutters, cocking his head to the side as he observes how the corners of your eyes are glassy, your ears pressed to your head so much it's almost pitiful, "you have to learn to keep your paws to yourself."

a few painful - for him - moments go by before he caves in, rocking his hips to press any more of his length into your mouth. he's almost waited for you to tap out, the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks but you don't despite everything - in fact, your tail may not be wagging as much as it was but wriothesley's pointed ears still pick up the slightest thud against the floor that most definitely isn't a recurrent noise of the fortress he'd adjusted to.

you're enjoying this, the power shift that wriothesley looms over your head when he knows you won't fight back. he cannot deny that you've taken everything he's given you without a complaint - minus your brattiest moments - with everything being locked under a safe word. this was supposed to be a lesson, to silence the brat in you but the wolf can already see the sparks in your half-lidded eyes, planning another way to get on his nerves and end up in this precarious situation again.

"archons, you're insatiable," wriothesley growls, sharp canines poking at his lower lip when your tongue laps at his cock sat happily in your wide mouth, your jaw unclenched and open for him, "just look at you, darling. you don't know when to quit."

his grip on you is that of a puppeteer, controlling your movement as he pulls your head off slightly, leaving you to suck on his tip and withdrawing a sharp hiss from the wolf. he's keening, falling victim to those little puppy whimpers and the way your eyes are so round and full of glittering tears. it's so hard to tame you when you're so irresistible compared to the workers of the fortress, those roughed up species paying for their crimes deep beneath the water's surface.

drool begins to bubble at the corners of your mouth with every thrust forward into your throat the wolf gives, his hips stuttering because he's struggling to last longer than five minutes when your sloppy gags and moans are echoing in the otherwise silent of atmosphere of his office. he's close to scrunching that damn paperwork up, archons he really is because the longer this goes on for, teetering on the edge of spilling his worth into your waiting mouth, he's starting to question why he wasn't doing this in the first place. how dare that paperwork even get into his head the way it had when there's such a willing pup at his feet, at his beck and call?

it happens every time, rinse and repeat. you'll never learn your lesson and frankly, neither will he.

◟ the waves call for . . . @kokonoiis, @tetsuskei, @ryuryuryuyurboat

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

#:: graveyard of the siren ‘24 #( whispers in the waves )#wriothesley smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #cw hybrids

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