#He barely lost by 2-3 and it was THAT punishing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkat12 · 3 months ago

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you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole.

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him.

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard.

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up.

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening?

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned.

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself. Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything.

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree.

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion.

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen.

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed.

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already.

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him.

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers.

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me.

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer?

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time,"

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me.

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes.

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed.

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight.

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us. can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far.

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips.

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone.

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say.

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us.

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth.

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three,"

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment.

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness.

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely,"

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss.

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect.

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them.

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too,"

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater.

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely.

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso.

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither,"

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck.

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug,"

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before.

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me.

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy.

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him.

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss.

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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nicka-nell · 5 months ago

Note

Can i request tsukishima, kuroo, semi and futakuchi being interrumped at sexy moments with their s/o (for example, they are kissing your neck so slowly that you can't breathe and boom! the door bell)

Hi anon! I don't know what happened, but I suddenly had a big boost of motivation and just wrote your sweet request. 😅🥰 I really need to get back into writing... It was so unfamiliar and kind of hard, but it was still fun. Sorry if it's kind of bad. I tried my best. 🥹

Getting interrupted during sexy time

Pairing: Tsukishima x, Kuroo x, Semi x, Futakuchi Kenji x reader

Warning: fluff, slightly mention of nsfw, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Tsukki... are you still reading through that report on dinosaurs?” you sigh as you get up from his bed and walk over to his desk, looking over his shoulder.

“This isn’t just any dinosaur. It’s a Camptosaurus, one of the rarest. Researchers found bones of this dinosaur a few days ago.” Tsukishima replies in his usual tone. Instead of answering him, you just nod with a slight smile. It’s actually quite cute when he talks about something that fascinates him.

“Ooh, I see... what did they look like before?” you ask curiously, taking the opportunity to roll his desk chair backwards and sit on his lap. A grumpy ‘hey’ escapes Tsukishima as you make yourself comfortable, your back against his chest. He accepts it and puts his free hand around your waist.

“Here... this is what a camptosaurus used to look like.” Tsukishima leans forward. You automatically move with him as he hands you his cell phone and you look at the pictures in the report. ��Wow, that’s a big dinosaur. I’d be an easy snack for it.” you giggle and glance to the side at Tsukishima, who is looking over your shoulder at his cell phone.

“No, they were herbivores. At most, it would eat your plants that you look after sporadically,” he replies sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at him before laughing lightly. Now he looks away from his cell phone and up at you.

“What? I’m right,” he says, and you just roll your eyes playfully. “Sometimes you’re really mean. But I love you for it.” You reply and watch Tsukishima’s eyes widen for a moment. The tips of his ears redden before he turns away. Oh Tsukki... you think and turn a little more in his lap, so that you are now facing him head-on, before you cup his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. “What, shy?” You say mischievously, but he only returns your grin with an arrogant look.

“Shy? Did you see your reflection in my glasses?” he teases back and leans forward, trapping you between himself and the table. “Oh, now I’m scared,” you say sneeringly, as Tsukishima pulls you towards his hips by your waist, his face bent forward. “Don’t be cheeky, or else-“

“Or else what?” you interrupt him before he whispers softly, “Punishment.” Before you can get any further into your teasing, you feel his warm lips on yours. Your heart beats fast and you feel like you’re on fire. His fingertips, which sneak lightly under your t-shirt and touch your skin, make you sigh softly.

“Have you lost your tongue?” he whispers before his lips meet yours again. His kiss is slow and long. His tongue parts your lips before the kiss becomes even more intimate.

You feel his thumbs caressing your bare skin under your shirt, slowly traveling up your sides before you break away from the kiss and look at him with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Looks like you’re going to have to try to get me talking again.”

“Easy.” he replies grinning, before he starts to kiss your neck. His lips are warm on your skin, his teeth nibble lightly.

“Is that a challenge?” you breathe as you tilt your head back, your hands wrapping around Tsukishima’s neck. You feel his smirk on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up and his upper body pressing even closer to yours, pushing your back further against the table behind you. “Mhh Tsukki...” you sigh and feel the desire for more rising inside you.

“Easier than I thought.” he smiles triumphantly as he continues to kiss your neck when you suddenly hear the door opens.

“Do you want to have dinner with us later or are you going to the cinem-?” you hear Akiteru, who enters the room happily and quickly gets wide-eyed when he sees you both.

“Eh, I… well... I think mum just called.” He turns around somewhat awkwardly and instantly closes the door behind him. Embarrassed, you put your face in your hands and feel like sinking into the ground.

“Oh my God, how shameful...” you sigh, but instead of being embarrassed, Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Annoying... He’s old enough to know that doors aren’t decorative objects. They’re there to be knocked on before you pull the door open,” he says with a slightly annoyed undertone.

You feel your face grimace as you glare at him. “That’s not funny Tsukki. How am I supposed to look your brother in the eye at dinner now?”

Your snappy words make Tsukishima roll his eyes again. But it’s not an annoyed eye roll, more like an amused one. “Just don’t look him in the eye if it bothers you that much. But just for the record... my room has neither airtight windows nor doors. In other words, it’s not a soundproof room. Don’t you think my brother knows what we do here at night? I’m pretty sure he hears you every time. You’re not exactly quiet, are you?” Tsukishima teases you with a smirk before leaning forward and pulling your hands away from your face to look at you.

“Tsukki! My God, why would you say that? I hate you!” you say mad, feeling the heat only rise to your face more before you kick him lightly and sigh more. Ah, Tsukishima loves to see your embarrassed face when he teases you. “Sure, that’s why you annoy me every day.” he smirks before giving you a kiss on the nose.

The national team’s volleyball matches are coming up again and Kuroo is working overtime more often. He’s staying late at the office today. He's the only one except for a few colleagues there, when you knock on his office door and enter it. With a gentle smile, you hold a bag of food in the air. Kuroo still seems to be in a videoconference. You quietly unpack the box of food and place it on his desk before making yourself comfortable on the sofa in the corner of his office as you wait for his meeting to be over.

It doesn’t take long for him to say goodbye and take his headset off his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly before clicking on the “leave” button for the online meeting.

With an understanding smile, you walk to him, wanting to ask him if you should massage his shoulders, but Kuroo is already stretching out his hands, grabbing yours, before pulling you onto his lap and giving you a kiss.

“Don’t forget to eat something in between,” you say worriedly as Kuroo leans his head against your chest. “You know I’m not a child to look after, right?” Kuroo says teasingly, even though he likes that you’re worried about him.

You roll your eyes lovingly before looking at the bento box you have prepared for Kuroo. You release your hands from his before reaching for the box to open it. Still sitting on his lap, you pick up the chopsticks and a small piece of tamagoyaki before you bring it to Kuroo’s mouth. “Go on, eat my little baby.” you tease him warmly as Kuroo grins and puts his hands around your waist, opens his mouth and lets you feed him.

“Well, kitten, I could get used to that,” he purrs as you giggle. “In your dreams. Don’t get too used to it. You’re not old and fragile yet.” you say as you reach for the next piece of tamagoyaki, but you pause as Kuroo’s lips move gently over your neck, nuzzling your skin.

“I’m actually hungry for something else,” he whispers in your ear as he starts to nibble on your earlobe. His thumb lightly caresses your hip, his breath is warm on your skin and you quickly realize how shy you suddenly feel.

“Tetsu... there are still colleagues of yours in the office... what if someone comes in? We shouldn’t do something so naughty here.” You reply sheepishly and look to the side. But Kuroo doesn’t even think about stopping now.

The week was more exhausting than usual. He was hardly ever at home and had many meetings with sponsors or young talents who needed to be supported. To avoid waking you up in the middle of the night, Kuroo either slept in his office or on the sofa in the living room. He misses being close to you. He was glad to see you again today after a hard day. You somehow looked even more charming than usual today. Even if that’s not possible. He’s sure you could have come into his office in sweatpants and a baggy jumper, but his first thought would still have been, ‘wow, that’s my wife’.

“Let them be. There should only be a few colleagues left, anyway. The colleagues who are still working have no reason to come into my office,” Kuroo says throatily between kisses, before his hand strolls from your hip to your chin, he moves away from your neck and peers at you mischievously.

“Besides, you’re the one who said my statement was indecent. How could you possibly think that I had something naughty in mind? I actually only wanted to eat the rice in the bento box and not the egg,” Kuroo says you with a grin.

Embarrassed, you try to look away, but his hand on your chin stops you. “Now I feel a bit silly. Then... wait, I’ll give you the rice,” you say almost shyly, but Kuroo chuckles.

“Where do you think you’re going? That was a lie. The thing I crave most right now is right in front of me.” he whispers almost like a predator looking at his prey as he brushes your lips with his thumb before his hand moves to the back of your head when he pulls you close to kiss you.

His kiss is slow but firm. His tongue quickly finds its way between your lips and makes your heart beat even faster. “Tetsu...” you sigh between kisses, feeling his grin on your lips. “Oh my kitten, don’t worry about the others here. If you stay quiet, no one will hear us, and no one will find out that we’re about to give the desk a quality check.”

“Shush, you talk too much.” You say sheepishly, feeling his hand wrap itself tighter in your hair as his other hand slides under your top.

Kuroo is just about to say something, when the vibrating of his mobile phone makes him sigh briefly. He considers answering it, but then he ignores the call and concentrates on kissing you again, pressing your body even closer to him on his lap. “Ah, Tetsu, at least see who’s calling you. Maybe it’s important.”

“You’re the most important thing right now,” he says hungrily, but you push him away and look at him seriously. Kuroo sighs in frustration, making a mental note to block the contact who has now called him and disturbed your togetherness and remove him from his friend’s list if it’s not really important.

He clicks his tongue as he reaches for his phone and picks it up even before he can read who is calling him. But his annoyed expression suddenly changes. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked, as he reaches for his mouse and looks at his computer screen. “Kuroo-san, you really seem to have a lovely wife, and I don’t want to disturb you. But… You’re still in the meeting and we can hear and see you,” says an investor with whom he and two of his colleagues were at the meeting earlier.

Kuroo checks the app he had used for the meeting and sees that instead of clicking the “Leave” button, he had simply minimized the window. He was still in the meeting and everyone could see and hear you. Caught and with a charming smile, Kuroo apologizes before quickly leaving the meeting, almost not daring to look in your direction. Because he knows that you are staring at him with a look that could kill.

Semi is sitting in his garage as he plays a melody on his guitar and goes through the lyrics he wrote yesterday when he was slightly drunk and partying with his band mambers.

He is not entirely happy with the melody. It sounds so sad, although the lyrics are actually beautiful. Maybe he should take a break? After all, he’s been practicing here for a while now. “Just one more time, then I’ll take a break,” he mumbles to himself as he starts to play a new melody to the song. Completely in his element, he doesn’t notice when the door to his garage opens and you walk in.

You wait until he has finished his song before you start clapping. Semi flinches before looking towards the door in your direction. He grabs a cushion that’s next to him on the sofa and throws it in your direction. “Tell me, are you trying to kill me with a heart attack? I’m not that successful yet that it would be worth it for you,” he pouts, but he doesn’t mean any offense.

Laughing, you catch the pillow and throw it back before walking to him and placing two bottles of juice and two boxes of noodles on the table in front of him. Before you sit down, you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a loving peck. “Oh damn, I guess I’ll have to wait a few more years than, right? Although... if you keep writing hits like the song you just wrote, then maybe it will only take a few more months.” You say playfully with a smile and brush a strand of hair behind his ear.

Semi’s ears turn red, his hands still on his guitar before he realizes that you must have just heard the whole song. He had written a song about you. About the woman who turns his head, who will be the death to him even in his dreams. About the woman who makes him smile every day, because that’s what she does to him every day and she doesn’t even have to be there. Because just the thought of you is enough. About the woman who makes him feel strong in every situation, who always supports him. And then there were a few lines that weren’t so suitable for minors.

“Do you think it’s really sexy if I walk into our kitchen in the morning in just your shirt and make us a coffee?” you grin teasingly. Semi pouts, unsure how to respond.

You lean further towards him, your fingers brush against his, still holding the guitar. “You know, I find it really sexy when you play the guitar. The way your hands move, how passionate you look when you sing the lyrics you’ve written yourself. Sometimes I wish you’d replace the guitar with me and play with me like you play your guitar,” you say seductively with a hungry look.

Oh, you really are the death to him, Semi thinks, now also red in the face as he turns to you and his shy look has twisted into a confident and strong smile. “Hey watch out pretty-face. A wise man once said that you should be careful with your wishes, otherwise they will soon come true,” he whispers hoarsely to you, just inches away from your face.

“Is that so? Then I hope he’s right.” You whisper just as confidently before closing the last distance between you two to kiss him. You playfully bite his lower lip. Your hand caresses his cheek before you wander down his neck, your fingers play with his necklace. You smile briefly before tugging on the necklace and pulling him closer to you.

“Oh, God, you’re going to send me to hell,” Semi says in a raspy voice before putting down his guitar to kiss you again. He leans forwards, pushing you down onto the sofa before lying on top of you between your legs his lips never leaving yours. His kisses are stormy, taking your breath away.

“Good," you breathe, reaching for the fabric of Semi’s top to pull it off. You throw it on the floor, your hands caressing his muscles hungrily, only giving Semi an even bigger ego boost.

“Fuck, I love when you do that,” he moans, still kissing you fiercely as his hand slides to your leg, bending it slightly and squeezing the flesh of your thigh. A murmur escapes him as his hand moves further up your skirt to your bum. “Baby, you do things to me-“

“Oh boy, here we go again...” a familiar voice suddenly interrupts him. Cursing, Semi flinches and pulls your skirt back into place before looking towards the door. Two of his band mates are standing in the doorway of his garage. The band’s second guitarist looks to the side, embarrassed, and scratches the back of his neck, while the bassist puts his hands on his hips and looks at Semi, shaking his head.

“Fuck, what are you doing here?” curses Semi, before standing up and helping you into a sitting position. He always meets up with his band in his garage on Fridays. Each of his colleagues has a key to the garage so that everyone can stay longer, even after band practice is over. But today was Thursday...

“Really? You were the one who wanted to move the rehearsal to Thursday this week because you wanted to meet up with your former school friends tomorrow. You wanted to cheer for that guy... Wakatoshi, right?” the bassist sighs, before taking a few steps forwards and grabbing Semi’s shirt. With a hiss, he throws the shirt in his face. “Can’t you find a room? This is the... fifth time we’ve caught you rubbing your love life in our faces. Or are you secretly telling us to join in? Are you into a gangbang or what?” The bassist laughs as he teases Semi with his words.

Annoyed by his own forgetfulness, Semi rolls his eyes as he catches the shirt. He sulkily puts the shirt back on before placing his hand protectively on your thigh. “Nothing there, I’m not sharing my girl,” he says seriously, even though his band mate had only said it as a joke. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give his bandmates a key to the garage after all. Or maybe you should just start keeping your hands to yourselves before and during band rehearsals.

Futakuchi has just come home from work when he walks into the living room and sees you sitting there with a book in your hand. He looks around the room before his eyes land on you again. “Baby, you’ll damage your eyes if you read a book in this poor light,” he says, before flicking the light switch and turning on the light.

Engrossed in your book, you didn’t realize that the sun was already setting. “Oh, that’s right... thank you. How was your day?” you ask him as you close the book and look at him with a smile. He comes to you and gives you a quick kiss before stretching.

“Annoying. The customers were just extremely weird today. With some of them, I wonder how they even get through life,” he grumbles, before undoing the first buttons of his shirt. “But anyway, let’s not talk about work. I’d like to take a shower now and then maybe we can continue watching the series we started yesterday. What do you think?”

Futakuchi has never been someone who likes to talk about his work. But perhaps it’s just as well that he doesn’t take his work home with him. In any case, he never really seems exhausted or overworked. So you just nod with a smile and pick up your book again. In the time Futakuchi is in the shower, you’re sure to manage another twenty pages.

Fresh out of the shower, Futakuchi pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt before rubbing his hair dry and heading back into the living room. With a sigh of relief, he heads for the sofa when he sees you lying there. You’re lying on your stomach, your book in front of you, and your ass right in front of his eyes. In those tight, sexy leggings. Oh, how he loves the way your ass wiggles in those things.

Unconsciously, he bites his lower lip, sneaks up to you before giving you a slap on the ass and squeezing it with his hands. He jumps on the sofa, kneels over you before playfully pretending to bite your shoulder from behind.

“Kenji! Haha stop, that tickles.” you laugh, close the book and try to turn around, but Futakuchi won’t let you.

“You’re doing that on purpose. Showing me your sexy ass like that.” Futakuchi grins, before leaning forwards and trapping you between him and the sofa, kissing your shoulder again. His still damp hair gives you goosebumps.

“Kenji... I thought we wanted to continue watching our series.” You say a little more quietly now, feeling your body react to his kisses and his touch.

“Yeah, sure, the series...” mumbles Futakuchi as he moves from your shoulder to your neck, buries his head in the crook of your neck and slides his hands between the sofa and your body, hugging you from behind. “Just let me lie like this for a while,” he sighs contentedly.

His body lies on top of yours, but he doesn’t press his full weight onto you. You can still breathe. His cool hands on your stomach caress you, his fingertips graze your lower for a moment, and you don’t know what makes your breathing most uneasy. His hands on your body, his body on yours or his breath landing hot on your skin.

“Ah... Kenji... that’s not the remote that’s between you and me on my butt, is it?” you say as you hear him smirk.

“No baby, you don’t need batteries for this thing to work,” he says mischievously, continuing to rub his pelvis against your ass. A soft moan escapes your lips, Kenji starts kissing your neck, his hand moves up to your breast, the other down between your legs.

“It’s easier if I turn around- “ you’re about to say, but Futakuchi interrupts you. “But it’s pretty hot like this,” he murmurs, and you feel him rubbing his pelvis harder against you, your own desire growing. With a groan, you lower your head, push your ass upwards and hear Futakuchi murmur.

“Yeah baby, just like that,” he says, playfully biting your neck before kissing you on the same spot. You both want more. The mood is charged, when you suddenly hear the ringing of your front doorbell. You startle, Futakuchi also briefly considers answering the door. But opening the door with a erection in his shorts wouldn’t be the best idea, anyway. So you both try to ignore it, but the doorbell rings again.

“Damn!” Futakuchi curses, stands up, pushes the curtains aside slightly and looks out of the living room window. From the living room, you have a good view of the entrance to the front door. His eyes widen and he looks at you. “Oh shit, shit, shit. Go on, say something. Something that really turns me off!” Futakuchi says, almost in a panic.

You look at him in confusion before sitting up. “Kenji... what’s wrong with you?” you ask, irritated. But Futakuchi seems to be thinking hard about something to get rid of his erection.

“I forgot that I promised my mum I’d look after my sister for the weekend. The two of them are just outside the front door...” says Futakuchi with a desperate smile.

“W-what? Kenji! Oh god, open the door, these two can’t stay outside! Or no... wait... you’re not opening the door with that...” you say, pointing at his massive erection. “Go, go into the bathroom and wait there until it’s gone again. And then come to us. I’ll tell your mum and sister that you’re still in the shower,” you say, before straightening your clothes and heading for the door, when Futakuchi comes up to you and hugs you from behind.

“You’re the best,” he says, kissing your cheek before letting you go. However, he can’t resist giving you a slap on your butt before he leaves.

#haikyu x #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #kuroo x reader #semi x reader #futakuchi x reader

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itz-amani · 1 year ago

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Sukuna as your boyfriend Imagines [Part 2]

Thank you for 62 followers ❤😭 Please send me more request I love yall sm. Here some Soft Sukuna for your day.

-He is the type thinking everyone in this world should die.Except you and him.He rather destroy the whole world for you. ''Anything for you my Queen''

-Jealousy?Hah even curses get jealous what about the King of Curses? He gets jealous over small things . Plushies.But that's not all.. Even animals like cats , dogs and others . You are walking with him in the streets , You saw a cat sleeping beside a trash can It looks so adorable You could not help yourself ditching Sukuna for a while to play with a cat. He taught he lost you He starting to get frustrated ended up seeing you playing with..a cat.

-''You like the cat more than me?`How could you'' You giggled at his ''possesived act'' . ''I didn't know the King of Curses gets jealous over a cat.''

-Movie nights are ON TOP. You like to make him watch cheesy and awkward romantic movies like Twilight . He even complains about the characters ''Bella is such a fool compared to you Y/n you are perfect''. If he's bored about the movie he will braid your hair making different hairstyles ,kissing your neck , him being the big spoon.

-Couple outfits like bad boy x good girl vibes or depends what you wanted to wear. He doesnt judge what style you like. ''Wear something that makes you feel pretty Paradise''

-Shares his evil plans with you . Like rather destroy a whole field just to find a four - leafed clover for you.

-Likes to show off with everyone around him about you even Yuuji ''How come Sukuna got a girlfriend? '' ''Maybe You if you weren't such a fool '' come one Sukuna please stop bullying teens

-Takes serious if You need help

-He can barely sense if you are injured .He gets so mad if you hurt yourself because you tripped on something . Him being a nurse Patching you up,kissing the spot where you are hurt. ''Don't get yourself hurt again..Brat''

-The type that throws you on the bed and throws himself on top of you

-He is addict with your neck . Gives you love bites and kiss it

-The type that jumps on the bed giving you jumpscares to wake you up if you are still sleeping so be prepared for it. Sometimes you found him beside you his eyes wide open , smirking horrifically just to scare you.He does that many times and his punishment is sleep on the couch.He sometimes regrets it but somehow enjoys it deeply

[End part 2] do yall want part 3

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the-xolotl · 5 months ago

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Worshiping At His Feet

Alastor x fem!Reader

⟢ a/n: i actually wrote half of this about 2-3 weeks ago and kinda left it to collect dust ^^, but here it is !! for my oral fixation bitches <33 i was listening to Rule 34 by Fish in a Birdcage and it was the perfect inspiration tee-hee.

summary: i don't have a quirky summary this time; you suck Al's dick lol

⟢ CW: service sub reader, cock worship (m receiving), no use of y/n, terms of endearment, praise, throat fucking, erotic asphyxiation, subspace, cumming untouched, leg/shoe humping, Al’s dick is like 9" in this one besties, reader w a long tongue.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. Thank you~

Alastor’s eyes raked over your trembling form kneeling before him with amusement and curiosity. The Radio Demon currently had you sitting on your thighs, bare from head to toe save for the green-glowing collar around your neck and the chain he currently has curled around his hand. Yet, your trembles weren’t from fear nor were you cold. No, the smell of arousal that tickled his nose is proof enough to let him know you’re the furthest thing from scared. There isn’t a sign of embarrassment or even shyness on your body as his red ruby eyes bore over every inch of your skin.

If anything, you sit with poise and elegance. Perfectly submitting to your figurative and literal place beneath him and wearing it with a straight back and puffed chest hints of pride in your position. You were writhing with anticipation; your little trembles came from the sheer excitement. You reminded him of an excited puppy, wiggling in delight, waiting to eat out of their master’s hand. Alastor couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with this little display of obedience and devotion.

He has given you simple instructions: Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to. And to your credit, you are doing just that. The twitches and shakes of arousal were somewhat out of your control. He knew you couldn’t help being a bitch in heat in his presence. Even still, you weren’t sitting still like he ordered. Your big eyes fixated on his own, waiting for your next instructions.

“Darling, what were your orders?” his velvety voice crooned, the radio filter crackling with his tone’s low notes.

You felt your eyebrow twitch and your heart pound against your ribcage. The Radio Demon doesn’t have you repeat instructions unless you missed a step or didn’t follow them correctly. Alastor is gracious enough to give you a singular chance at correcting yourself before punishment is dished out. “Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to,” speaking with an even tone, struggling to keep your voice from trembling. He gave your collar a light tug, just enough to remove slack. You audibly swallowed, feeling your chest tighten at the pull of your very soul.

“Good pet,” he purred, “So fix it.” That’s all he offered. Leaving you confused, the words echoed repeatedly in your head, trying to find the mistake. Alastor’s smile grew impossibly big as the lost expression edged into your face. He was already kind enough to give you a hint. It’s your job now to figure it out. He had time.

Meanwhile, you readjusted yourself, planting your weight further into your calves and placing your palms at ease over your thighs. You had the urge to run a thumb along your flesh soothingly, feeling your thighs shaking, so you did. And that’s when it clicked. Sit still.

You stop immediately, your body going rigid, and flick your gaze to Alastor again, who has an approving glint in his eyes. The corner of your lips twitches upwards, and your heart flutters again, this time at his silent approval.

“That’s it. Good job,” Alastor praised extending his hand towards you. You lean in immediately resting your cheek on his palm, relishing in the warmth of his captivating touch. ��Come closer, dear. You’re allowed to rest your hands on my lap.”

Alastor uncrossed his legs to allow you to slot yourself between them. Still knelt, you didn’t hesitate to let your hands come up to his legs. Your hands glided across his clothed thighs with a feather-light touch before they settled at the apex of them resting them there. With his hand still on your cheek, he tilted your head back, “You’re going to service me now. I’m going to use your mouth, and you’re going to let me,” his thumb ran over your bottom lip, “Understand, little one?”

Alastor saw your eyes light up like stars; he chuckled at you. “Yes, Sir,” you responded already with a breathy voice.

“Take me out.” He ordered. Wordlessly, you look up at him again once his pants have been undone, asking for permission. He lifted his hips, allowing you to drag his pants and underwear down to pool at his ankles. Now, with his half-hard shaft resting on his hip, your mouth watered. Lust flowed through your veins like a good liquor, slowly warming you. You couldn’t help but lick your lips and bite down on your bottom lip.

Your pheromones came off you in waves, permeating the air around you both. Alastor has a sensitive nose. While he wouldn’t admit it, your arousal alone had already caused a reaction in his body. His idea was to have you work him hard, but your eager responses had already done half the job for you.

The hand on your cheek came to grab hold of the back of your head, bringing your face centimeters from his hardening cock. You could see the bead of pre-cum already forming at the tip. Making your breath hitch and swallow back a needy noise.

“Use your tongue to get me hard, pretty pet,” he instructed, “Go slow, and don’t use your hands until I let you.” You nodded, your tongue already lolling out to drag the wet muscle across the entirety of his length; tongue swirling around the tip before wrapping itself around half his cock. You used your long tongue to your advantage, using it to stroke him in long, languid pumps. Alastor sighed a hum as you worked him and your lips sucked harder on the tip before taking him further in.

Just as instructed, you went slowly. You found a pace at which you bob your head up and down taking another inch at each downward suck. Alastor rewarded you by running his long fingers through your hair and audibly low moans of your name, his grip on the chain tightening when he felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You moaned then already feeling your mouth so full but still having at least half his dick to fit down your waiting throat. Without skipping a beat you sank your lips further on his shaft without breaking eye contact. The vibration sends a delightful shiver up Alastor’s back earning you a quiet good girl.

“So eager aren’t we, love?” he twitches in your mouth, “You look so pretty with those lips stretched around me like that,” Alastor can make sinful words sound so pretty with the way he coos down at you with his transatlantic accent. The praise makes your thighs clench tightly together, your fingers digging into the meat of his thighs to resist the urge to touch yourself. This makes Alastor chuckle and use the side of his foot to tap your knees to separate them. A little whine is muffled by his length being stuffed in your mouth but you look at him pleadingly. A smug expression crosses his features as he brings a leg between yours pressing the back of his shoe against your dripping sex. “Grind. If you need touch that badly this is all you’re getting until you’ve made me cum.”

Your back arches and cheeks become increasingly hotter as the blush reaches your ears. It’s a humiliating act to dirty his shoes in such a way, yet, your hips immediately rock down bumping his leg and holding on even tighter to him. Your concentration wanes on your main task becoming sloppier, and more messy with drool dripping from the corners of your back and down the rest of his cock that isn't already inside your mouth. Moans become louder and more frequent even as your throat becomes more occupied the bigger he swelled. The smallest mercy you’re granted is your lack of a gag reflex allowing you to take him deeper with better ease but that’s being challenged by the way his cock is obstructing your breathing while Alastor is digging the top of his shoe into your puffy clit.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes struggling to keep up, vision going in and out. Both from the tears and the lack of air going into your head. But you are so set on being a good girl, you could never disappoint your master. The deer demon could see your struggle but said nothing, delighting himself in watching your eyes roll back and eyelids drooping, your grip is also beginning to slack. Alastor laughed pulling you off his cock by the phantom collar and holding your face to make you look directly at him, “Breathe; take a deep breath, my dear. You can’t pass out yet,” he said as he tapped your cheek lightly and wiped the saliva off your mouth. “Such a mess and we’ve only just gotten started.”

There are dark spots in your vision and you’re fighting to blink them away taking sharp breaths through your nose. Your mind feels foggy and a little airy already and there’s a slight ringing in your ears. “That’s it, my love, stay with me,” a warm hand delicately cradled your cheek brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “Such good girl for me.” It tickled your insides every time he spoke to you with such softness with the undertones of condescension, it brought a smile to your face to hear his acclamation of your work.

“I’ll allow you a break, use your hands,” his hand leaves your face to help you bring your trembling fingers around his pulsing hardness. He guided your hands up and down his shaft, “You know how to please me, don’t you pretty girl?” he tapped the back of his shoe against your folds again sending a jolt through your entire body making your hips buck.

“Yes, Sir, everything— anything— for you,” you pant out through little keens. So eager for your Master, the owner of your heart, mind, and soul. You were surrendered to this demon with every fiber of your being. There isn't an inch of you that doesn't belong to him. With a pleased grin he lets go of your hands allowing you to keep going on your own, your strokes remain long and languid and you can't help but let your eyes fall to watch your hands that can barely wrap around them go up and down. Alastor hisses as you tease and press into the tip to collect the bead of pre-cum that formed.

"Be careful what you wish for, little love," voice dropping ever lower to a more sensual tone, radio filter straining and crackling, "You might just get what you ask for and not realize it's more than you've bargained for." The devil danced in his eyes as he spoke leaning down to meet your gaze, your breath hitched but a mischievous grin tugged your lips to match his own.

"I can take it," you whisper, eye flicking down to his lips momentarily, "And if I can't, make me," your confidence excited him, made him crave you in sensual ways as much as you craved him. He stole your lips in an intense kiss, and your lips collided when he tugged you forward by the collar. He devours your lips like he is going to eat you whole. Your hands sped up on his cock making him moan into the kiss, noises are more than happy to swallow down greedily. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth exploring it, rubbing and pushing against your wet muscle in a sinful dance. It made you mewl back into his mouth melting into his lips.

"Let's test your resolve then, shall we?" he pulled away breathlessly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. Your head is still reeling and you barely notice the tentacles that wrap around your thighs and bring both of your hands behind your back, he removes his leg from between your legs and stands up from his chair. You look up at Alastor with falling tears already rolling down your cheeks. "Open up, ma chère," you obey without a second thought, tongue lolling out. Alastor drags his thick cock over your open lips, rubbing up and down over your warm tongue then lightly tapping his cock over your face teasingly. You pull against your restraints already missing your hands over his body.

"Beg," he orders still teasing your mouth. His smile turned right down devilish hearing moan just from his words.

"Please, Master? I need your cock in my mouth, I want it so bad," big doe eyes looked at him with tears, "Let me have your cock down my pretty throat," you say with desperation batting your lashes and opening your mouth wider. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. Let me service you. I want to make you feel good," you lean to press your cheek against his pelvis cock hanging right in front of you but didn't dare lick or kiss just yet, not before giving you explicit permission.

Without another word, he cradles your face letting go of the chain, collar disappearing completely when he did so, and shoving his cock into your mouth in one go. He groaned demonically when your throat constricted around him. There's still a good inch or two of him you hadn't managed to fit in yet, "Make me, you said, mon ange?" your eyes widen from both fear and excitement. Adrenaline pumped rapidly through your veins as you held his gaze, heart beat like a drum against your ribcage in anticipation. Alastor almost looked apologetic as he pulled out to the tip slowly, teasingly then held both sides of your head to thrust into your mouth. Radio static buzzes through the air and his eyes flash radio dials.

"Ḿ̶̛̲̩͓̤̗̘͒͊̌e̷̟̼̳̼̭̿̾͋͒̐̿͌r̵̥͔͈͉̤͝d̴̯̞̙͚͆͗̈̋̔͘̕e̴̥͉̦̒̓͒̇̊̒͜͝ͅ," he cursed quietly, one hand tightening on your hair making you wince. The first thrust is nearly successful and he holds you there for a few long moments letting you adjust. One of his hands slides down to press the bulge that his cock is making in your throat and gently caressing it. He's so fucking big in your mouth and so long you doubted you'd be able to take all of him. More tears stream down your face quickly running out of air as he holds you down. "So close, almost there, my dear. L̸͕̔e̷̦̕t̸̮̏'̴̹͝s̵̠͂ ̴͜͠t̴̙͗r̴̘̽ÿ̶͙́ ̷̱̆ȁ̵̭g̷̨̈́a̷̧̎i̵̝̐ñ̴̻." Once again he pulled out but didn't give you time to breathe barely sneaking in one deep gasp.

He thrusts harshly into the heat of your mouth, pushing your head down in the process this time. You yelp and moan as your nose graces the tuff or coarse hair at the base of his length, writhing and squirming Alastor bows and arches his back over you, "So t̸̜͐ĭ̴̹g̶̹͌h̶̯͐t̴̟͝ ̸͔̏ã̶͍n̶̥̑d̸̢̈ ̴̦͑ẉ̷̐a̷̢̛r̵̼͆m̸̧̾, you're perfect." his voice is rough and the radio filter keeps switching in and out. The radio demon sets a brutal pace fucking into you, "Keep those pretty lips open, dear." Alastor gives you no mercy not letting you breathe between thrusts. Soon you're feeling woozy, your jaw slacking allowing Alastor to slide in and out more easily.

"That's it, you're mine. Aren't you, sweet thing? All mine," words coming out between pants and moans, "Let go, forget everything outside of these four walls and sounder to me, my dear." Your moans die at your throat completely muffled by this cock. As the seconds pass you feel less and less present laying yourself at his hands. No more coherent thoughts form in your brain, he relishes the way your body shakes and how your eyes roll back every time he bottoms out. You can tell the lack of air is getting to you; you feel faint, your jaw hurts, your chest feels tight, and your knees are possibly bruising but all your thoughts are of Alastor and the way he's ravishing you. How much do you enjoy being used as his little cock-sleeve. You gladly take anything he gives you with no questions asked, and he knows that too.

He only slows down when he feels his orgasm build and coil, so he removes himself from your mouth. You gasp so desperately that you're wheezing to let air into your burning lungs. Shadows dance across the walls and floor seemly also pleased with your performance. "Such a good girl, you know how to please your master." There's adoration behind those words and you feel elated. A rush of euphoria zooms across your body, and whines bubble up in your chest but only come out as broken sobs.

"You've trained me so well, Sir, only for you," your voice is scratchy and barely audible from the abuse to your vocal cords yet you still have stamina to keep going. Deposite the fact that there’s a buzzing in your head and the ringing in your ears has only gotten louder and you’re incapable of thinking outside of sucking off Alastor you’re ready to swallow him down again. Even through the ache that has settled in your body from being forced into a single position for such a long time you’re impatiently waiting to get face fucked again. Your cheeks sting slightly from the tears too, as a few more stays roll down the redden skin.

“You want more, don’t you?” Alastor pets the top of your hair softly, you nod tiredly. “You deserve a reward for such a wonderful performance, come here sweetheart,” his tentacles release their hold on you finally letting you touch him again. Immediately your hand comes up to grab a hold of his hips caressing and appreciating the soft short fur. Alastor guided his cock back into your waiting mouth immediately sinking in with a moan of your name. You brace yourself with hands on his thighs for his brutal pace and relaxing your jaw as much as you can for him. Just being used for his own pleasure brought you to such heights of ecstasy you’re able to get off in it, he didn’t even need to touch you.

The familiar coil in your abdomen tightens as the sounds pour off his lips and his fat cock slides in and out of your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin and nice pressing against his pelvis. “So close, darling, you’ll get your reward soon,” his radio filter glitches out. Once again his shadows grow taller, antlers extend and his smile strains as he takes harsh breaths in through his nose. He moans loudly through gritted teeth, thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier. It’s hard to say if you’re still breathing properly by the time you feel Alastor’s warm cum pouring into your throat. Alastor with his hand cradling the back of your head pushes himself all the way inside your mouth as he fills you up. Your whole body twitches and you choke a moan when your orgasm hit you right after his. Your juices make a puddle on the floor and cover your thighs.

He’s still coming but you’ve run out of breath before he pulls out, your vision blacks out and your limp body slumps against his legs. Alastor picks you up bridal style and pressures you close to him, still catching his breath. “You did so good my doe, so perfect,” he whispered next to your ear and murmuring small apologies for overexerting you. He’d worry about the mess on the floor later, so he carried you to the bathroom on the other side of his bedroom, nudging the ajar door open. Without letting you out of his embrace he lets water run into the bath, littering your cheek and forehead with kisses while waiting for the tub to fill up.

It’s not long after that you finally come back to, slowly, groggily and already in the warm water while Alastor has your back resting against his chest. You slowly blink the drowsiness from your eyes, too tired to move your body, you accept the fact you probably blacked out, it’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Alastor asked softly, arms sliding under the wanted to wrap around your middle. He rested shit chin on your shoulder snuggling closer to you. Endearing how gentle he is after sex; the harder he is on you the sweeter the aftercare.

“My jaw aches, my knees hurt,” your voice comes out huskier than usual, “My voice is going to be fucked for a few days. But… I’m more than satisfied,” you turn your head to lay a sweet kiss on his lips. “Let’s get washed up so we can go to bed. I’m exhausted after our little tryst,” you giggle pressing your forehead to his, he chuckles along with you sharing a little intimate moment and a few more kisses before actually getting clean and stepping out of the shower to retire to bed, nice and warm cuddled and tangled up in each other as lovers do.

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slut4thebroken · 6 months ago

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“Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” - part 2

── ⋆⋅��⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer × reader

Summary | Robert punishes you for almost messing up the next date.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, degradation, humiliation, praise, dry humping, orgasm delay/denial, vaginal fingering, sir + daddy kink lol, more slut shaming but in a hot way.

Words | 3k

Notes | Enjoy some smut before things get super angsty :)

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 1

There was some speculation that this was all so sudden and obviously fake, so they waited two weeks before staging another date.

This time, you went out during the evening. The PR team thought it might be a good idea to kill two birds with one stone and stage a fake date, as well as start to fix your reputation. Your father was reluctant to agree, but— obviously— trusted Robert more than you to keep you in check. Which is how you found yourself at a nightclub. His attire was slightly more relaxed than normal; he left the tie and suit jacket at home, and opted for a darker colored suit, leaving the top button undone. You were practically fucking salivating just looking at him. Especially when he complained about how hot it was and started rolling his sleeves up.

You on the other hand we’re told to dress for the occasion, but more modest than what you’d normally wear. They even had you send a picture of you in the dress to confirm, which you thought was a little overkill. What sluttiness you lacked in the dress though, you made up for with the heels. They were tall and strappy and Robert told you he’s not helping you if your feet start to hurt, which you thought was cute. You’ve been wearing heels like this for years now and even if your feet do start to hurt, you’ll just take them off.

You both ordered drinks and after a while you suggested he dance with you, but he refused. So you went alone. As you were dancing among the other flushed, barely covered bodies, you realized that this is probably the first time you’ve gone to a club and not been able to go home with someone. Not that it wasn’t frowned upon before, but now it’s strictly off limits.

When the first pair of hands grabbed your hips, you reluctantly batted them away and were severely disappointed to find out how hot he was when you turned around. After two song changes, you were approached again.

“Can I dance with you?” A woman asked— it was so refreshing being treated like a person sometimes— and you bit your lip, thinking. You looked over at Robert who was looking at his phone. Technically you’re supposed to be photographed leaving the club, so no one should find out. And if they do… people are homophobic enough to believe that this was platonic.

You nodded and she smiled. She grabbed your hips and pulled you closer and you were suddenly engulfed in her intoxicating scent— something vanilla-y. You gasped when she suddenly turned you around and pressed her front flush with your back. Even with your heels she was still taller than you. You danced lazily for a while, letting your head fall back on her shoulder as you closed your eyes, choosing to get lost in the moment. But of course it was interrupted.

Robert called you name loudly from in front of you, trying to get you to hear it over the music, and you lifted your head to look at him.

“What?” His expression was pretty neutral and you tried to hear him, but you could only make out a few words. “What?” You yelled, trying to convey that you couldn’t understand. He just rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the dance floor. He stopped in the hallway, but the volume level was the same because of how small the club was, so he pushed open the bathroom door and practically dragged you inside, then locked it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spat, wrenching your arm free from his grasp.

“You know you shouldn’t be doing that. Anyone could see.” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

“What are you, my daddy? You don’t tell me what to do.” You sneered.

“I do when it concerns people other than yourself. This isn’t about you, so grow up.” You scoffed and looked away from him. “I think you’re forgetting that we’re in the same boat. But I’m not risking fucking everything up because I’m horny.”

“Screw. You.” You spat, pushing at his chest.

“Oh so that is it, then? You don’t get fucked for a few weeks and you just turn into an insatiable little whore? No matter the consequences?” You wanted to deny it, but the arousal building in your stomach from his words and tone was unmistakable. You clenched your jaw and looked away, prompting him to grab your cheeks in one hand and turn you back to him. Despite the ferocity of his gaze, he kept his grip light.

“If you need to be fucked so bad, buy a dildo. Or if the issue is you’re too much of a pillow princess to do it yourself, buy a machine— god knows you can afford it.” Your cheeks heated up under his hand and you did your best to steady your breathing. “See how many options you have that don’t end with you screwing everything up?” He cooed mockingly and you closed your eyes, swallowing down a whimper.

“What, now you finally shut up?” He scoffed and you couldn’t hold the sound in any longer.

“Robert…” You whined, pressing your thighs together. He let out a dark chuckle and you shivered in response.

“So fucking pathetic.” The sweet tone almost fooled you. “You’re really desperate enough that you’ll take it from me?” He scoffed a laugh, making your blush burn darker. His hand suddenly fisted your hair, then yanked your head back, forcing a startled moan out of you. “Answer me.” He growled.

“Fuck— Robert, please.” You whimpered, squeezing your thighs together even harder. The second he noticed, he was forcing a leg between your own, pressing this thigh against your heat, making you mewl and grab at his shirt.

“Show me how desperate you are. Show me how much this little pussy needs to be filled.” He said quietly. You nodded with a whimper and started rocking your hips, pushing your clit against his thigh, as you started panting. “That’s it, good girl.” He cooed and you let out a choked moan in response. He looked down to watch you grind on him, but suddenly pulled away when he saw the dark patch on his pants.

“Fuck— These cost more than your fucking phone.” He huffed and you would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t so damn needy. “Get on the floor.” You looked around the bathroom and whined, not wanting to kneel on the floor of a public bathroom. “Kneel or we’ll go back out there and finish our drinks.” He warned, so you tentatively dropped to the floor.

“There you go.” He cooed, petting your hair. “Grind on my shoe.”

“What?” You choked out, now infinitely more embarrassed than a few seconds ago.

“Unless you’d rather leave?”

“No! No—” You clutched onto his pant leg, not letting him make good on his threat.

“Then stop wasting my time.” With a whine, you looked down at his shoe, tentatively shuffling forward. You looked up at him one last time before lowering yourself onto the smooth leather. The friction was less than his pants, but the stimulation still had you panting and whining regardless.

“You look good on your knees.” He said with a smirk, making you blush. “Can’t believe I have to let you hump my shoe like a bitch in heat just to keep you from fucking all of this up.” He muttered and you let out a low, embarrassed whine.

“Robert,” You whimpered, needing more. You wrapped your arms around his leg and leaned your chin on his thigh as you looked up at him. He cursed under this breath and bit his lip. “Please.”

“This not enough for you, princess? Need more?” You nodded with a pout, wanting his fingers, his mouth, his cock— anything. “That really is too bad, isn’t it?” He cooed empathetically, making you have to repeat his words in your head before you realized that what he said was actually a bad thing. “I can’t believe I have to marry a pathetic little slut. Are you going to be like this until the divorce? Humping any part of me, every chance you get?”

“Robert…” You whined, eyes watering with tears of desperation and humiliation. “Fuck— please.” You both froze when his phone started ringing.

“Take off your underwear.” He said quickly, then, when you didn’t move fast enough, “Now.” You scrambled to remove them and place them in his hand, then he was shoving them in your mouth before you even registered what was happening. “Continue. You don’t want me to tell you again.” He warned before answering the call.

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his leg again and picked up where you left off, but with a little less enthusiasm this time, not wanting to be too loud. Based on his tone and how much he was talking, it seemed like an important call. Which confused you even more on why he’d want you to keep going.

His free hand suddenly gripped your hair, then wrenched your head back, and you couldn’t stifle the startled moan in time. You looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes, worried you had upset him because of that.

“Do better.” He whispered, barely audible. You nodded and he released you, letting you bring your head back down to a more comfortable position. You started moving faster, grinding down harder. Too embarrassed to keep looking at him, you turned your head and rested your cheek on his thigh, but your breath caught in your throat when you finally noticed the bulge in his pants. You tentatively brought one hand up, but before you could touch him, he roughly grabbed your wrist to stop you. So you wrapped your arm back around his leg and kept going, staring at his crotch almost longingly.

“You saw that, did you?” He cringed and the sudden change of tone caught your attention. “Yeah I know our history has been… rocky at best.” He paused as the person on the phone presumably cut him off.

“Has she fucked me yet?” He chuckled, making you whine and bury your face into his thigh more. “No, not yet… I know— I was just as surprised.” You whined and pulled back to stare up at him, silently pleading with him to end this humiliation and just give you what you need. His eyes bored into yours as he pet your head, making you mewl and grind down harder.

“Yeah… She’s actually.. less of a bitch than I thought— I know. Don’t get me wrong, she has her moments,” He cut off again and waited a few seconds, then chuckled under his breath.

“Get up.” He mouthed to you and you stood on shaky legs, holding onto him for balance. He guided you over to the counter and bent you over it, making you gasp at the feeling of the cold marble pressed to your flushed skin. When he pushed your dress up enough to expose your ass, you whined and buried your head in your arms, making him grab your hair to lift you back up. “Eyes on me.” He whispered. You nodded tentatively, then he went back to the task at hand.

“Oh yeah. Spoiled too— and she acts like it.” He placed a hand on your ass and pulled it to the side for a better view of your drooling hole. “I know, I know. But you’ve seen some of those photos that circled around a few years back,” He suddenly pushed two fingers inside you and you jolted forward with a strangled moan.

“Yeah I’m actually out with her now, she’s in the bathroom. You should see the fucking dress she’s wearing.” He curled his fingers against your walls slowly, making you whine and push your hips back. When he chuckled quietly, you stared at him through the mirror with furrowed brows and he hummed in agreement to whatever the person on the phone just said. “Exactly as you’re picturing it— her tits are practically out.” You glanced down at your chest through the mirror, finding his statement correct— your breasts were spilling out of your dress in this position.

“And alcohol makes her so fucking needy apparently. She’s been all over me since we got here.” His fingers suddenly hit a spot inside of you that had your knees buckling as you whimpered, holding onto the counter. “Hang on, she’s coming. I’ll call you tomorrow?” His choice of words was not lost on you and he wasn’t even wrong— your orgasm was rapidly approaching. “No, I’m not going to send you pictures.” He scoffed a laugh and you whined quietly, your whole face heating up at the thought.

“You did a.. surprisingly good job staying quiet.” He commented, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You ready to come now?” He cooed and you nodded desperately. “Yeah? Did listening to me talk about you like that make you even needier?” You whined and averted your gaze, but made sure to keep your head up.

“Of course it fucking did.” He scoffed, quickly removing his fingers, making you whimper. He turned you around fast enough to make your head spin, then lifted you onto the counter and roughly shoved his fingers back in, working much more enthusiastically than before. You placed one hand on the counter behind you and the other to his shoulder to ground yourself. When he removed your panties from your mouth and placed a hand on your neck, you let out a loud moan, making him tighten his grip to cut off the sound. The action was sending you barreling toward your orgasm now and since you were able to beg again, you did exactly that.

“Fuck— please... Sir, please let me come.” You gasped out, getting closer and closer.

“Sir?” He smirked, making you blush.

“Please make me come, I need it.” You whined loudly and his grip on your neck tightened even more as he forced a third finger inside you.

“Fuck you’re wet.” He spat, almost disgusted. “Can you hear that, princess? You hear how messy your pathetic little cunt is?” He cooed and you sobbed out a moan.

“Please! Please make me come,”

“Yeah? You’re ready?” He asked as he tilted his head, and you nodded eagerly, panting and closing your eyes to focus on the feeling. When he suddenly pulled his fingers out, your body flinched forward and you cried out, making him push you back by your neck, pressing on your windpipe a little to silence you.

“Please! I was so close!” You sobbed, clinging to his shoulder as your eyes filled with tears.

“Whenever you think about misbehaving, I want you to remember this. If you start acting like a good little girl, then maybe next time I’ll make you come.” You let out another choked sob, on the verge of crying from desperation now.

“No— Sir, please…” You cried. He shushed you softly and you whimpered in response, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“I know. You’ll be okay.” He cooed, but you were pretty sure he was mocking you. When a tear finally escaped your waterline and slid down your cheek, he cursed under his breath and moved his hand from your neck to gently wipe it away. You had one last thing that you thought could work.

“Please-” You whimpered pathetically, looking up at him with wide, glossy eyes, “please, daddy.” You were so grateful when another tear fell just as you finished talking.

“I thought you said I’m not your daddy.” He smirked, making you whine and give him your best puppy dog eyes. “You’re going to be severely disappointed if you think calling me daddy and giving me those ‘fuck me’ eyes will do anything.” He said teasingly. You frowned in response and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know, princess. I’m sure you’re not used to being denied, but if you behave and listen to me, I can give it to you.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, then cupped your cheek. “Can you do that for me?” He whispered and you nodded hesitantly.

“Good girl.” He chuckled when you let out another whimper. “Listen to me very carefully, okay? When you get home tonight, you’re not going to get yourself off. You’re going to be a good girl and get ready for bed, then go to sleep. Trust that I’ll know if you disobey me and that the consequences will be much worse than just this. Do you understand?” You pouted and looked away from him, trying to stop crying. When you let out a quiet, “yes” he gave you a proud smile.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Just need to be put in your place.” His gaze dragged over your face with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. He gave you a small smile, then stepped back, pocketing your underwear.

“Fix your makeup and hair before you leave. I’ll be waiting by the front door, okay?” You nodded dumbly, barely registering his words. He unlocked the door and walked out, leaving you there to catch your breath and get rid of the floaty feeling in your head. You hopped down from the counter on shaky legs and adjusted your dress before smoothing out your hair and wiping away the smudged mascara from under your eyes. Once you looked… slightly more presentable, you walked out and found him standing by the entrance to the club, waiting.

“You still look like you just got fucked.” He chuckled, making you blush.

“There’s not much else I can do about that.” You huffed, still feeling bratty from being denied.

“Okay, just—” He brushed your hair back and wiped under your eyes some more, then sighed. “Try to keep your head down I guess.” He opened the door for you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his body.

You kept your head slightly angled toward the floor and did your best not to trip in your heels but the alcohol and horniness were making it pretty hard. The paparazzi were right outside unfortunately, but there were only two of them, so it wasn’t that bad. His car was already waiting— he must’ve texted while you were still in the bathroom— and he opened the door for you, letting go of your waist to let you slide inside.

Part 3

(ik It’s cut kinda awkwardly lol but this is technically just a really long one shot. Also very much sad in the next part so get ready for that lmaoo)

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @cillianscrybaby @ceruleanrainblues @brooklynscherry-z @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (y’all were tagged in part one which I posted before updating my taglist system. Lmk if you want to be removed otherwise I’m going to add you to the google doc for this fic)

#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #cillian murphy #childhood enemies turned lovers?

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starlight727 · 6 days ago

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A little gift (part 2, no one asked for it but screw it)

Shadow Milk Cookie x reader fic (Chapter 2 - Theater of Lies)

Author's note: Made a part 2 cause I'm not done with my idea, I still have something else related to the story that I wanna show you (if you're interested, of course) Also, thank you for the wonderful comments in the first part, I'm glad you liked it! I hope you like this next part as much as the last one. Now, on with the show!

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here)

Part 3

A lot has happened since you got that hat: Elder Faerie died trying to buy you some time, and White Lily became the new guardian of the Seal, which made Shadow Milk Cookie changed the performance... into a quiz show! You were jumping up and down excitedly since you were eager to answer his questions (maybe that way he'll notice you for sure!). You sat down and took a deep breath before the quiz started, everyone else was standing up and steeling themselves, ready for any tricks he might pull on them. Everyone was feeling on edge after all of the recent events, and they felt very concerned and confused about the way you reacted to everything: You barely showed worry when Shadow Milk Cookie turned the whole kingdom into his personal circus, you showed remorse when Elder Faerie died but moved on quickly as soon as Shadow Milk started talking again, and now you're excited about a deadly quiz show, what the heck was wrong with you? Everyone turned to the stage when they heard Shadow Milk speak, but Wizard's gaze lingered a bit, he was gonna find out what was making you feel this way.

"Now, for the first question! Out of these False Heroes, which one is only half a Cookie? Choose your answer carefully and don't forget: time is ticking!" started Shadow Milk, as he pulled out five poorly-drawn cardboard cutouts of the Ancients, it made you giggle a bit seeing those goofy cutouts. Wizard Cookie was keeping an eye on you as you sat there, thinking.

"Half a Cookie? Isn't that... White Lily Cookie?" you pondered whether you should give your answer or not because you didn't want to put your friends in danger if you got it wrong (and you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him). Suddenly, you hear someone else answer.

"None of them!" yelled out Gingerbrave proudly, thinking he beat Shadow Milk at his own game.

"...oh crumbs." you thought to yourself.

"WRONG!!! Let the punishment ensue! Now... Who wants to be crumbled first?" announced Shadow Milk so loudly that it startled you. You gasped in fear of what might happen to you and your friends, and Gingerbrave (that dummy was gonna get you all crumbled!!).

"The right answer is... All of them" Pure Vanilla spoke up before anything else could happen. Thankfully, that was the answer he was looking for, so you sighed in relief, gave Gingerbrave a glare and moved on to the next question. Wizard noticed you do this, he was taking note of any changes in behavior you exhibited.

"Out of these three Cookies... Who is the biggest liar? Remember, your time is running out! So don't think for too long!" said Shadow Milk as he took out Pure Vanilla's and White Lily's cardboard cutouts and an amazingly detailed cutout of himself (you could tell how much he loved himself by the amount of effort he put into it compared to the others, it made you chuckle a bit).

"Ooh, a trick question! Ok, it can't be Shadow Milk because that would be too obvious, it might be White Lily because she lied about her being Dark Enchantress, but... how is Pure Vanilla a liar?" you thought to yourself as you wondered why Pure Vanilla was part of the choices, until you heard someone speak up.

"This is easy! It's Shadow Milk Cookie, who else!" said Wizard Cookie, so sure of his answer that he doesn't even realize that it's too easy! You started sweating and fidgeting your non-existent fingers until you heard a third Cookie speak.

"Oh no, that's... too easy..." commented Strawberry Cookie, at least someone had common sense. You got lost in your thoughts, thinking about the horrible punishment Shadow Milk had prepared for all of you!

"Well then, are you ready? What's your answer?" speak of the devil, Shadow Milk came back to hear your team's final answer.

"Come on, just repeat after me! 'Shadow...'" started Wizard Cookie, you were sooo gonna strangle him and Gingerbrave after you're done here cause like... DO THEY HAVE DEATH WISHES OR SOMETHING?!

"The biggest liar is... me, Pure Vanilla Cookie." his voice snapped you out of your silent frenzy, what was he doing?? Surely he had a good reason to call himself a liar now more than ever. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for him, that was the right answer (tho you didn't like the implications of it), another breath of relief is taken, then you give Wizard a glare, and prepare yourself for the next question.

...No, you know what? You were so angry at Wizard Cookie that, in a fit of rage, you took your hat from your head and threw it at him. Oh no!! What have you done?! You tried to apologize, but Wizard, who's been holding you suspect for having strange behavior concerning the Beast of Deceit, took it and came to the conclusion that maybe it was that stupid hat that was doing something to you, so the best course of action was to get rid of it entirely by turning it into ashes via a lightning bolt he casted on it after placing it down on the ground.

"NO!!!" you shouted as you ran to the place where your hat used to be, now turned into a pile of ash and dust. You picked up the ashes from the ground, hands trembling and tears building up in your eyes, your breath shaking and your voice breaking as you squeaked out your response.

"WHY?! Why did you do that??" you exclaimed as you threw ash at Wizard Cookie, who blocked your attack from his face but still coughed from the smell of it in the air.

"It was for your own good, that hat was controlling you, couldn't you see that?!" said Wizard Cookie in an unpleasant angry tone that even he wasn't proud of. He sighed in a tired manner and continued.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I did, but you have to understand that these are dire circumstances we're facing, so we need you to come to your senses so we can finish this and leave as soon as possible, alright?" he said with a softer tone to try to make you feel better. All you could do was get up, wipe away your angry tears and look away.

"Fine." you said, holding back more tears from flowing on your cheeks. Your face was red from the surge of emotions, so you took a few deep breaths to calm down.

But privacy isn't a thing for Shadow Milk Cookie, he saw and heard everything. There was steam coming from his head, his slit eyes were so small that they looked like toothpicks, his face might turn into a different color because of how furious he was! How dare that shorty ruin your perfect gift, he worked so hard to get it to you, and now it was nothing but a pile of cinder. He swore that he would exact his revenge on that so-called wizard and his friends, a devious grin grew on his face as he remembered his final question for them.

"Don't you worry, my little star, your darling jester will take care of this." declared Shadow Milk in his head, as he prepared everything for the last question... and final showdown.

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animasolaoriginal · 1 month ago

Text

A B A N D O N E D 🥀 3/3

On his quest to make her feel better, he notices that the girl has very specific needs, and who is he to deny her?

Normal dude meets broken girl turned sex toy

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content. Strangers to lovers. Hurt/comfort. Angst. Fluff. Smut. Oral cockwarming. Oral sex. Cockwarming. Unprotected vaginal sex. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 10.4k

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

After a dreamless night, he wakes up to a sunbeam hitting him straight in the eye. Groaning quietly, he blinks against the sudden brightness before he notices a different ache.

Gently unwrapping his arms from around the sleeping girl, he slips from the bed and heads directly into the shower. He woke up hard, unsurprisingly with such a hot girl in his bed, rubbing her soft little limbs against him, but he could really use a break from it by now. He's never been anywhere near sex-crazed or the like, though he could see himself spending days and weeks with her in bed, on the couch, on the floor, against the wall, in the shower...

A grunt escapes him as he comes under the spray of the water, his fist tight around his shaft, body jerking as his balls twitch. Sighing deeply, he cleans himself again, then scrubs the shower wall for good measure as well. After finishing his morning routine by brushing his teeth while pacing the bathroom, mind reeling with plans, he slips into a pair of dark sweatpants and a T-shirt, then walks into the kitchen to scrunch together some food he could offer her.

In the end it's just a box of stale cereal and a carton of milk he hopes isn't sour yet, and when he turns to bring the stuff up the stairs, she's already descending them, still naked, pale little body riddled with angry red welts, but a soft smile on her lips as she sees him.

“Morning,” he greets her with a smirk, putting the tray back down on the counter. “Hungry?”

She nods and moves closer, her bare feet tapping over the concrete floor. She doesn't even seem to care that she's stark naked, she moves somewhat confident and comfortable, but she's probably lost all sense of being embarrassed a long time ago.

He's figured by now that she is an abandoned submissive, a girl who's lived under a Dominant who eventually sent her away for whatever reason (and ultimately allowed strange men to use her as a mindless toy). He's heard of those kinds of relationships, and while the idea seems nice, he's not a fan. He likes his girls with a bit more pep, someone to talk to, argue with, have fun, in equal measure with no one oppressing the other.

And he hopes he can bring her back into a normal lifestyle as well. She deserves to stand proud instead of kneeling and waiting for commands, fearing to be punished should she ever hesitate a tad too long or downright disobey. He doesn't know how, but he'll convince her that there's a better life ahead of her.

As he watches her sit down at the raised table, clumsily climbing onto the high stool, he blinks at the sight of her hard nipples. “Oh, wait,” he makes, absentmindedly helping her get onto the seat, but that's not what he's thought about. “I'll get you something to wear, okay? You must be cold!” Before she can object, he leaves the kitchen and rummages through his closet, finding a large shirt and some shorts.

She takes the clothes with a frown on her face before she cradles them to her chest, smiling shyly. Her hand moves to her neck then, rubbing at the bruises on her soft skin.

“Are you hurting?” he asks, moving back around the counter to bring the bowl, milk and cereal to her part of the table.

She shakes her head. “It's okay. I just...” She stops, biting her lip, looking down. “Nothing.”

“Hm?” he makes, handing her a spoon.

“I used to have a...” Her voice is feeble, and he furrows his brows as he tries to understand her. “A collar...” she ends, a sigh escaping her. “They... they must have taken it...”

He swallows hard at that. Not just that she still works around what she's experienced, but that she also can't let go of her old life, the one spent in submission and servitude (and that the bastard even collared her like a fucking dog, wow). “You don't need it. You are no one's property anymore, you hear?” he tells her, leaning against the edge of the table as he watches her closely. “And that's a good thing. Nobody should own other people. You are free now! It's better that way, trust me.”

She stares at him, lips quivering, before she shakes her head and looks down into her empty bowl. “I don't know what to do without him...” she confesses quietly, her shoulders trembling.

It breaks his heart seeing her like that. Unsure what to do, he walks around the table and stands behind her, inhaling deeply before putting his hands on her upper arms. “I'm sorry you have to go through this,” he says softly, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. “But you are not alone. I might not be your... Sir, but I'm here for you, okay?”

She turns her head slightly, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He leans around her, bringing his face to her level. Her eyes widen a little when he inches closer to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Alright?” he asks again and sees her nodding, a timid smile creeping onto her lips. “Now eat! We'll figure out the rest once you have something in your stomach.”

That something really is a meager meal, but it's better than nothing. As she eats, he makes a list of what to buy, then stares into his empty wallet a little too long. Checking his balance on his phone, he sighs deeply. There's still two more weeks to the month and he's already broke again. Buying that new lens has put a deep dent into his finances. Maybe he should put a sale on his online shop to entice people to buy his prints.

He's still deep in thought, sitting at his desk by now, when she approaches him, a shy hand brushing against his shoulder, startling him. “Can I help you?” she whispers, and he frowns at her. “You look stressed...”

She's put on the wide shirt that's long enough to cover her thighs, but refrained from wearing the shorts, leaving her bare underneath. And he's only aware of that because she has one hand clenched around the hem, scrunching up the fabric in a nervous gesture, revealing the shape of her bare mound beneath. Almost as if to offer herself to him, showing off what he could have if he indulged her. And he wants to indulge her, take her right here on the desk, bent over or sitting on the papers he's strewn about the surface, eager cunt ready to take his throbbing cock, but he puts his hand on hers and pries her fingers off, making her let go of the shirt to cover herself up again.

“I'm fine,” he says with a smile, his hand resting on her lower back as he pulls her a little closer. “Just figuring stuff out. It's fine,” he repeats. Fake it till you make it. “Don't worry about it, okay?”

She purses her lips, leaning into him with her head tilted. “But I want to help,” she whispers. “You've been so nice to me...”

He shakes his head. “I don't expect anything in return, you hear me? I brought you here to help you! It's on me. You just focus on feeling better, okay?”

Her nostrils flare slightly when she exhales. “Okay,” she says quietly, licking her lips. Her eyes move along his desk then, over his camera equipment and a variety of prints strewn about. “Do you take pictures?” she asks, the childlike curiosity in her voice warming his heart.

“Yeah, and sometimes I sell them too,” he replies with a dark grimace. “And I will again, I'll figure out how, I –”

“You could take pictures of me... and sell them,” she offers in a breathy whisper, making him stare at her. “Sir did that, and those other men too... pictures and videos... they said people liked them...”

He blinks slowly. The worst thing about her suggestion is that he's thought about it too, when he's taken pictures of her feet back in that awful sex room. To know she's used to that kind of perversion makes him angry, so using her for it again doesn't seem like the best thing to do. It doesn't feel right, even if she's offering.

“I'll think about it,” he says then, smiling at her, his hand rubbing along her back. “You'd certainly make a beautiful subject,” he adds, teasing his fingers against her ribs. She squirms and laughs softly, while he thinks about how to properly present her.

He won't show her face, but her body alone would bring a bunch, those small feet, that plump ass, the incredible thigh gap, her tiny tits and her beautiful cunt... but most of all it would be those welts adorning her pale skin. There are enough sick people out there dying to get pictures of tortured girls. And she already has them, already suffered for it. Why not give them a good use? It sickens him to think like that, but he's running out of options. Buying stuff for her won't come cheap...

He'll make a secret second account and start with those pictures he's taken of her in the sex room. Knowing the Internet, it won't take long for people to swarm to those, drooling over the poor girl. He hates objectifying her like that, but it can't be helped. Maybe it'll also make people aware of the sick happenings in this world, give it some sort of silver lining after all. He just has to be careful not to give away the location he found her like that, doesn't want those who were responsible to connect the dots and find him – and ultimately her.

He won't allow for her to go back to such a life. She will never be raped again, never be used, never told what to do, never punished for petty things, never forced to do things she doesn't want to do. He'll make sure to always ask her, even if it still confuses her, until she'll be completely annoyed by him – because she should feel more than the need to pleasure others and the urge to be used. There's more to life than sex.

His hands close around her small waist as he looks at her. Her cheeks are flushed and the echo of her laughter rings in his ears. What a beautiful sound. He should tickle her more often. For a moment he is just watching her, until his eyes fall on her hair, and its different lengths, one side longer than the other.

“Hey, do you want me to cut your hair?” he suggests quietly, making her frown. Her hands move up to touch the ends of the shorter part where those cruel bastards cut off her braid.

“If you want to,” she whispers.

“No, if you want to. It's up to you. This does give you an edgy look, though,” he adds, one hand moving up to slide through her long strands.

“Hmm, okay,” she murmurs, smiling shyly.

“Okay what?”

“Cut my hair,” she whispers, holding his gaze. “Please,” she adds, averting her eyes as if remembering something, or awaiting some sort of reaction. He doesn't give one, just moves his hand up to cup her face and nudge her chin with his thumb.

“You know, how about a complete makeover? We could make a new person out of you, to celebrate... well, your new life?” he says softly, smiling at her.

“Like what?”

“Hmm, I don't know. Dye your hair blue? Red? Any color you want?”

She giggles quietly at the suggestions, shaking her head. “Just cutting it is enough, I think,” she replies, her finger twirling around a shorter strand. “I like my hair.”

“That's good!” he blurts out, making her frown. “I mean, that you like stuff, things about yourself. I'm glad,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “We'll cut it then. It is nice hair,” he agrees, sliding his fingers through her soft tresses. “Thick and healthy, a nice dark color to it, frames your beautiful face perfectly...”

She smiles, her cheeks burning up, her eyes warm and bright. Happy even? He caresses her flushed skin, then lowers his hand, feeling the urge to pull her onto his lap and cuddle her. Instead he curls his fingers around her waist again, teasing her ribs with his thumbs. Another giggle escapes her.

“So, uh, I gotta work a little bit now,” he tells her, watching her. “Do you want to watch some TV or read a book or just chill somewhere before we cut your hair?”

She purses her lips, her eyes wandering over his shoulder into the loft apartment. “Can I stay with you?” she whispers barely audible.

“I'd love your company,” he says, then makes a gesture to show her the cluttered space of his desk. “But it's really boring here, you know? I just have to organize pictures, clean my camera, organize some more, I –”

“I could cockwarm you,” her cute little voice then says, and he stares at her with wide eyes.

“What?”

She blushes deeply, squirming against his chair. “You know... down there? Under the desk? Between your legs? I won't disturb you, I promise! I'll just...” She chews on her lip nervously. “It calms me to suckle on... cocks...”

Something hot crashes down his spine, and he clears his throat. This girl. “Uh, well, are you sure, though? I mean...” What is he even saying now? Agreeing to such a strange offer? How fucked up would that be? He shakes his head. “No, really, it's not necessary. I can make you a calming tea if you like, if you need to be calm, that is. You looked rather calm before, you sure you need to suck... I mean, uh, you know. I'm not saying I'm not flattered, trust me, wow, what an offer, but...” He sighs. “Sorry, love, I'd rather not have you cockwarm me. But it's not because of you, okay? I need to focus here...”

“Sir could always focus better when I had his cock in my mouth,” she whispers, watching him with big glistening eyes.

He inhales sharply, clenching his jaw. That fucking bastard. Of course he would. He'd probably also sleep just fine at night after spanking this cute little girl until she'd cry. “Well, I am not Sir,” he says darkly. A shadow crosses over her soft features, and she looks away. He clears his throat. “Listen, thanks for the offer, really. Maybe another time?”

She's pouting, and despite it all, he finds it cute. His hands move up her sides until he cups her face, making her look at him. She blinks, her long lashes dancing. “Fine,” she replies, almost a little angry, and he relishes in the emotion in her voice. Yes, be angry, show emotion, that's good, he cheers her on in his mind. A smile creeps onto his lips.

“Good girl.”

It just slips out of him, mainly as a joke, to tease her a little, but the unintended praise moves over her face immediately, like a cloud crossing over the sun. Her pupils dilate, her lips quiver, heat crashes into her cheeks. That little pout turns into a stiff mask of... bliss? Fuck, she really has a praise kink, huh? He has to be careful what he tells her.

“Alright,” he breaks the strange tension and lets go of her face, only to pat her hip gently. “Go find something to do. Make yourself at home, okay? Mi casa es tu casa, right?”

She blinks at him, eyes unfocused for a moment, before she looks away, inhaling deeply. Taking a step away from him and the desk, she pauses, probably looking around the space. There's not much, the couch plus shallow table under the stairs that lead up into the bedroom, a flat screen TV on the opposite wall, a bookshelf between the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the open kitchen with barely any food in it, an empty room he hasn't found a purpose for yet, and the bathroom next to it. Then there is a whole lot of nothing that he one day wants to transform into a photo studio, with partition walls, a real green screen, various light boxes and all the fun stuff. For now, there's not much.

He focuses on his computer screen, hand hovering over the mouse, while she still stands a few feet behind him. He can hear her labored breaths, the shaky exhales, and he turns his head back to see her shoulders trembling.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asks quietly, rolling back to her with his chair. She swallows, eyes lowered, tears brimming her lashes.

“I don't know... what to do...” she croaks out before a sob makes her voice crack.

He sighs and stands up, steps behind her to wrap his arms around her small frame. “You could watch TV or browse Netflix or YouTube or whatever. There's so much to see, any genre you can think of.” He turns her a little, letting her face the large bookcase. “Or you can read something. I have a large collection of thrillers and crime stories, or photography books if you want to look at pictures instead.”

Her small hands find his arms, and she leans into him. “I don't want to be alone,” she mumbles.

“You're not alone, love,” he whispers, pressing his lips to her warm cheek. He can taste salt. Leaning around her slightly, he looks at her, frowning when he sees the tears rolling down her face. “I'm right here, in the same room. And I'm not pushing you away, either, okay? I just need to work.”

She sniffles, closing her eyes, a new batch of fat tears falling from her lashes. He leans his head against hers, inhaling deeply as he holds her.

“What do you want to do?” he asks quietly after a moment.

“Nothing, it's fine,” she mutters, biting her lip.

“No, it's not fine. Tell me: what do you want to do?”

“Suckle on your cock,” she presses out, her lips pursing, a pout forming on her face. He laughs, shaking his head. She issues a little groan and squirms in his arms.

“Alright, fine, if you really want to...” he sighs, pressing his lips to the top of her head as he leans back.

“I do...” she murmurs, turning around when he lets go of her, big eyes, shining with tears but sparkling with joy, looking up at him. Adorable.

“Come on then,” he whispers, pushing his chair back to the desk before he sits down in it, leaving a bit of space between the edge of the table and himself.

She quickly slips into the small space beneath it, her hands on his thighs, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. He shifts in the chair, still not one hundred percent convinced this is a good idea. Is this her brainwashed little mind wanting to service the man she's near or does she actually enjoy having a cock in her mouth for God knows how long?

“Okay,” he says, pushing the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down to pull his cock out. To his own shame it's already semi-hard. This girl has a weird effect on him for sure. “But you just want to suckle on it? Not suck me off, right?”

She nods enthusiastically, her fingers flexing, eager to grab him. “I like having something in my mouth, it's calming...”

Maybe he should buy her a pacifier then or whatever else works. Or let her suck on her own thumb. But that's probably not the same. Maybe she needs to have someone close, a warm body that's not her own. A steady connection. He gets it, even if it's fucked up. “Alright then...”

He watches her. There's a little smile on her lips as her small hand closes around his girth, or tries to, the touch already giving him slight chills. She positions herself on her knees, one arm looped around his waist, the other holding his cock before she moves her mouth closer, her eyes on him as she opens it to put his cockhead on her tongue. The warmth of her mouth, the gentle grip of her lips as she sucks him a little deeper, the wet sensation on his skin, it all makes him grip the armrest of the chair.

But then she just stays like that, half of his cock in her mouth, resting on her tongue with her lips strained around it, and her cheek pressed to his thigh, her fingertips mindlessly rubbing at the exposed skin of his lower stomach, a warm little touch, soothing.

He raises a hand and gently pats her hair, and she hums around him, the soft vibrations letting goosebumps ripple over his skin. Her eyelids flutter before she closes her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose, her body relaxing against his legs. He strokes her head once more before he puts that hand on the mouse and focuses back on the computer screen.

It's a strange feeling, that's for sure, the idea of a girl kneeling under his desk to keep his cock warm is so otherworldly to him. But she seems so peaceful now, content, and even if those are old mannerisms he wants her to let go of, he can't deny her such a simple thing. If it makes her happy... and honestly, it does make him happy too. Of course it does. He's just a man after all.

Just the feel of her warm wet mouth lets the blood pump into his groin. He knows he's getting hard, even if he probably shouldn't. This is not necessarily a sexual act, that much he knows. It's like a meditative state for her, a means to let her mind wander, to empty it. What's it called, subspace? He really should brush up on his barely there knowledge on submissives, now that he has one under his roof.

Inhaling deeply, he focuses on the pictures he's taken yesterday. Some are good for his main blog, those of the broken windows and nature reclaiming the place, even the lonely chair in the middle of the decaying room looks good. Then he gets to those of the last floor, the closed doors, the sex room. Now he's glad she's under the table, unable to see what he caught with his camera.

The pictures he took of her look gruesome. Those caning wounds, deep red lines on her otherwise unblemished skin, all across her small breasts, her flat stomach, her thighs. The bruises on her neck look like a whole hand print around her throat. The state of her abused pussy, leaking with cum and blood, her labia and clit red and swollen. The rope burn on her ankles, how her arms were tied behind her back, random bruises on her hips and arms and legs. A horrible sight. He must have found her only a few hours after they left her, presumably to die or already assumed dead, it all looked so fresh.

Could they be already looking for her? Did someone come to clean the room, to prepare it for the next girl? Would he find the same scene in the other locked rooms? Maybe he should send an anonymous tip to the authorities after all, to save others from the fate she had to endure.

For now he focuses on getting these pictures into the right corners of the Internet. Setting it up is almost too easy (and it shouldn't be for photos like these, he shouldn't feed those sickos who enjoy looking at mutilated women, but then how can he judge them when he's trying to make some buck off their demented little kinks?). He chooses the picture of her bruised neck as a teaser, then hides the rest behind a paywall. A few clicks and it's all done, and all he has to do is wait.

The girl on the screen is barely comparable to the one kneeling between his legs, still suckling peacefully on his (by now rock hard) cock. She's already looked better last night when he's given her some much needed aftercare, and he's glad. She's young, her body more resilient than it looks. She'll make a full recovery, he's sure, at least physically.

His hand finds her hair, and she hums again, shifting slightly against his legs. He rubs down her neck, a gentle massage she'll probably need from how she's leaning on him, her head turned to accommodate his length. That warm wet feeling is still all around him, the tiniest of sucks when she pulls her spit in as it threatens to drip down her chin, the little pressure of her tongue when she tries to swallow it.

Apart from those motions she's perfectly still, relaxed, sunken into herself, far away probably. He hopes it's not counterproductive to allow this. He wants her to move on from her former life, not dive back into old patterns. But he shouldn't force this change on her too quickly, he knows that. And if she really enjoys this, why stop her?

Inhaling deeply, he leans back in his chair, trying to relax as well. He's on edge though, from the photos, from how her small mouth envelops his cock so perfectly, from wondering what the future may hold. Only a few years ago he didn't care about what came next, just lived day by day, going where the current would take him. And even though he's trying to settle down here, in this city, in this loft, he could leave any second, get into his truck and drive wherever he likes to go.

Not anymore. She's with him now. And he told himself to care for her. He feels like he owes it to her. He can't just abandon her like she's been abandoned before. The plan is to give her her life back, a normal life, where she has hopes and dreams, and hobbies, where she can party with friends, enjoy herself, follow her own needs, a life far away from sexual servitude. It won't be easy with how deeply brainwashed she seems to be, but he'll try. It'll be a new project, something for him to focus on.

And if he's being completely honest with himself: he's happy about it. He found himself a girl, in a very unusual place, under very unusual circumstances, but a girl nonetheless, who allowed him to kiss her and pleasure and fuck her, who's willingly crawled under the desk to put his cock into her mouth. This is every man's dream, is it not? No matter how sick and broken she may be. And even though he feels as if he's taking advantage of her frail state of mind, he can't deny the appeal this whole situation has on him. He's not particularly proud of the reactions of his body, but it is what it is.

She looks so cute (in the most lewd way possible with how his cock is stuck in her little mouth and her body perched on his thigh, with that little bit of drool passing by her strained lips, that warm glow on her cheeks, the vacant expression, the serenity on her face). His hand moves down to caress her hair again, stroking her head, slipping between her tresses. Her eyelids flutter, but she keeps her eyes closed.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, tracing his finger around her ear when he tucks a strand behind it. She doesn't stir. “Love? Did you fall asleep?”

Obviously, idiot, he scolds himself, because she keeps perfectly still between his legs. His hand finds her cheek, nudges under her jaw, teases her lips. No reaction. Sighing deeply, he wonders if he should just pull his cock out of her mouth, but he doesn't want to disturb her. Doesn't want to startle her already muddled mind.

So he leans in a little and opens Google, typing away to ease his mind. He's in the middle of reading about Dominants and submissives, and how to maintain a healthy relationship, and BDSM etiquette, gets distracted by a list of various spanking methods, complete with tools and what they do to a human body, still looking for that little bit of information on subspace, when she stirs in his lap.

He looks down, feeling that little suck when she pulls in her drool, her tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, making him inhale sharply, a tiny shiver crashing down his spine. His hand is back on her head, patting it softly, when her eyes open, blinking slowly into focus before she looks up at him. He smiles at her. “Hey there,” he says quietly.

She blinks again, closing her lips tighter around his hard length, shifting between his thighs. Instead of maybe pulling back and allowing herself a break, she leans up on her knees, one hand braced on his leg, the other going straight to fondle his balls between her fingers.

He gasps softly, twitching to pull her off, but then finds himself mesmerized by her smooth movements, how she bobs her head slowly up and down, always holding his gaze, her tongue gliding along his shaft when she takes him deeper, teasing his tip against the back of her throat.

Maybe she waits for him to stop her, tell her no, but when he doesn't say anything because he's too dumbstruck and frankly too horny to not see it through, she just keeps going, her mouth sliding up and down his cock, lips tight around him, drool and precum dripping down her chin and onto his sweatpants.

Those soft slurping noises make his head spin, and even more so when she starts pushing him deeper, tongue peaking out and pressed to the bulging veins on his hard member, as she forces herself to take all of him, her eyes watering, those gurgling sounds becoming louder and quicker as she starts bobbing faster until she manages to squeeze him into her tight throat.

A violent gag shakes her small frame, but instead of pulling back and coughing or swallowing the excess spit flooding her mouth, she holds him there, nose pressed to his pubes, tongue and chin teasing against his balls that she's still groping hard, and he feels the contractions of her throat, the tight squeeze, and a series of groans and grunts escape him as pleasure crashes through him, his stomach tense, balls tenser, and it doesn't take long for his hips to stutter and for him to empty himself deep into the willing girl's body.

She pulls back slowly, while his cock is still throbbing and spewing cum in thick ropes, her eyes are reddened and glistening, lips swollen, her face wet from tears and spit, viscous globs of drool and precum dripping down her chin. Her hand is shaking when she grabs his base and steadies him, aiming his tip onto her tongue as she gathers all that he is giving her. And it's a lot, not that he particularly cares as he slumps back into the chair, breathing harder from doing basically nothing.

He watches her out of hooded eyes as she swirls his spend around in her open mouth before she swallows it with a hard gulp, and he blushes, actually blushes, at the sight of the girl licking her lips, wiping her chin, then leaning down to lick that same tongue along his softening dick, cleaning him. She even tucks him away again when she's done, then leans back on her knees, hands folded on her lap as she looks up at him with her big eyes.

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to comprehend what just happened. “That was something... not what I expected...”

She frowns at his words, biting her raw lips. There's a strange sadness on her face. “Oh, did... did you not like it?” she whispers hoarsely.

“What? No, I... I loved it, don't get me wrong!” he quickly clarifies, leaning in to cup her face, rubbing his thumbs over the corners of her lips. “That was incredible. But... well, you said cockwarming, and I thought –”

“I'm sorry!” she wails out loudly, shaking in his hold, big tears falling from her lashes, running along his fingers. “I... I couldn't help myself... I... I thought...” She squeezes her eyes shut, thoroughly crying now.

“Hey, stop, it's okay! Don't cry, please!” he urges her, wiping at her wet cheeks.

“He... he always said I was too... too eager,” she mumbles, her lips quivering. “He... he'd...” Her eyes fly open as she stares up at him. “Will you punish me now?”

“What?” he croaks out, furrowing his brows. Anger rises inside him. Accusing a girl of being too eager while giving head? What kind of asshole idiot would say that and then proceed to punish her for it? “No! Of course not! Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I didn't do what I was supposed to!” she cries out, squirming on her knees. “I... I always do that... I get... get excited by the feel of... of cock... and then I... I just...” She shakes her head between his hands, wailing softly as she tries to squirm away from him. He lets her, and she raises her hands to cover her red face, quietly sobbing.

He pushes his chair back and crouches down in front of her, gently taking her wrists to pry her hands away. “Shh, it's alright, it's all good, okay? Please calm down, you did nothing wrong!” he whispers urgently, pulling her frail body against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

It takes her a moment to calm down again, shoulders still trembling when she snuggles into him, small hands gripping at the fabric of his shirt. He rubs her back and keeps shushing her soothingly. Eventually he scoops her up in his arms and clumsily sits back down in the chair, arranging her on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in the crook of it, breathing deeply, her knees pressing into his stomach while she tucks her feet under his thigh.

He holds her until she's that pliant thing in his arms, quiet and still, a barely there weight. His heart is still beating faster, from both his orgasm and her outburst afterwards, and he really hates the guy who turned her into this fragile little thing who's afraid to get punished for performing these incredible blow jobs every other guy would dream of receiving. So what if she has a natural taste and need for cock? Nothing wrong with that.

In her case it's actually a blessing, makes him reconsider her former life. She wanted it, craved the cock she was given, hopefully even before she was turned into a sex toy? He can only assume. In the back of his mind he starts to wonder if he'll be able to keep up with her unusually high libido. Even more so when she squirms on his lap, little mewls slipping from her lips, vibrating against his skin.

“Are you okay now?” he asks quietly, one hand on her back, the other on her hip.

“Mhm,” she hums, but she doesn't stop moving. It's then that he notices her hand going from gripping his shirt to crawling lower, twitchy fingers rubbing over his stomach, then slipping right under the waistband of his sweatpants.

A groan escapes him when her fingertips tease at his dick. “Still hungry, hm?” he muses, a chuckle in his voice, but she suddenly pulls her hand back and inhales sharply.

“Sorry,” she mutters, the arm around his neck tightening as she pulls herself up a little.

“No, it's fine. Do whatever feels good to you...” he says. “I told you I'm here for you, in whatever way you need me, okay?”

She leans back a little then, looking at him, considering his words, eyes still a little red, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I... I need...” Blinking a few times, she licks her lips, bites them again, staring at him. “I'm so empty,” she mumbles, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

He's not usually the quick-witted guy, but he knows exactly what she means, with the way she squirms restlessly on his lap, but he can't help but tease her a little. “Hungry indeed, huh? Yeah, just a bowl of cereal is definitely not enough, and oh, look, it's almost lunch time. We could order something, are you in the mood for pizza?”

She keeps staring at him, nostrils flaring, cheeks bright red. “I... I'm in the mood for...”

“Cock, I know, love,” he laughs, nuzzling her neck when she turns away with an embarrassed little groan. “Give me a few minutes, okay? You basically sucked me dry just now...”

She lets out another noise of discomfort, then sighs deeply. “I could still just sit on it,” she rumbles into his neck, sounding like a pouty kid if her words and intentions weren't so lewd.

He frowns, considering it. “Well, uh, alright, go on. Do with me what needs to be done,” he declares with a smirk.

She looks at him, eyes wide, a small smile making her lips twitch. Shifting on his lap, she puts one knee on either side of his legs, squished in the small space next to the armrests, then moves both hands to his waistband, eagerly pulling it down enough to pull his cock out. He should be spent, flaccid as he is, unusable, but his natural length and girth seems to be enough for her. She grips him hard, causing him to groan, but he tries to relax as he leans back into the chair and watches her curiously.

Giving him a few pumps, she sits up on her knees and wiggles her hips a little. As she concentrates on lining him up with her entrance, he reaches out and grabs the hem of her big shirt, gently rolling it up to be able to see what she's doing. The sight of her bare cunt coaxes a deep exhale out of him. She's wet, glistening, soaked, completely drenched, labia puffy, clit swollen. Mesmerized by what he sees, he watches as she sinks down onto him, nudging his semi-soft cock between her tight muscles.

A deep moan escapes him when she pushes her hips down, taking all of him into her wet depths, and he feels the blood rushing down instantly when her walls clench around him. She adjusts on top of him, then relaxes in her position, her hands on his shoulders, as she grinds her hips a little bit, before she stops moving altogether, looking at him with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Sam,” she whispers and leans in to press her lips to his cheek.

He pulls his arms around her and keeps her leaning against him, turns his head and meets her lips fully. “You're welcome, love,” he whispers, peppering her with gentle kisses that make her giggle.

The chair groans beneath them when he gives her a little upwards nudge, feeling himself hardening quickly with how she engulfs him, so warm and close, and she mewls into his mouth before she nibbles on his bottom lip playfully. He smirks at her, arms encircling her body in a way that allows him to tease his fingertips against her ribs.

She squeals, falling into a giggling fit when he keeps tickling her, and his cock is now really growing stiff with how she squirms on top of him. He silences her with a deep kiss as he moves one hand to her nape and holds her steady, and she relaxes, kisses him back, her hands slipping into his hair. He moans at the sensation and tilts his head back, but she chases after his lips, as hungry as her cunt that keeps clenching around him eagerly.

What a curious little creature. So insatiable. A dream come true, right? But despite his growing lust for her, it still concerns him just how trustworthy she is, how downright desperate to continue whatever sexual acts she was told to perform before. Is she chasing her own hunger or was she brainwashed to believe she needs to fuck and be filled 24/7? Indoctrinated to think she isn't a real human unless she has a cock in one of her holes?

He shouldn't judge too soon, especially not her character, when it was him who couldn't resist her either, who allowed all of this, who was weak for the sexy girl worshiping his cock as if it was the best thing she's ever seen, which just can't be right. Nevertheless, here she is, bouncing on it right now as they continue kissing, sliding from that awkward little cockwarming phase into a full on cowgirl fucking. And his cock is hard, pulsing, throbbing inside her, and every little grind and slam and slide and rub makes goosebumps ripple over his skin while his stomach tenses something awful.

He holds her small waist now, hidden under the wide shirt, their gazes locked, their breaths mingling as she uses his shoulders for leverage to move up and down on him, her pupils dilated, his own eyes hooded, their moans and groans echoing through the large room while the chair squeaks beneath him, threatening to break under the enthusiastic girl riding his cock.

“You feel amazing,” he tells her breathlessly, his body shuddering beneath her.

She smiles shyly, her face flushed, lips parted, soft mewls and moans slipping out of her throat. There's a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, but she doesn't stop, keeps moving up and down, hard and fast, pulling back to slam down with a force that makes him groan every time. He's impaling her deep, he's sure he's hitting her cervix whenever she lets gravity pull her down again. She's wincing when it happens also, and he's willing to stop her, let her take it easy, but she's too focused it seems, eyes glazing over, face contorting in that mixture of pain and pleasure, as she bounces even faster.

He tries to meet her motions with upwards snaps of his hips, and when he does, she cries out, and he stops again, afraid he might have hurt her, but then she throws her head back and moans loudly, stiffening on top of him, legs trembling against his sides, body shaking, stomach fluttering, her cunt clamping down on him hard. He's mesmerized by the sight of her orgasm rolling over her, he barely notices how he's approaching the same edge quickly as well.

She's grinding her hips against him now, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, her hot breaths making his head spin. His hands tighten around her waist, and when he starts moving her back and forth, hips snapping upwards once more, she mewls, an exhausted groan escaping her, as she tries to continue riding him.

But he sees her struggle, and with a strength he hasn't thought possible in his state, he stands up from the chair, pushing her with him, and she clings to him, legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still lazily pumping into her as he walks her towards the kitchen in a strange little crab walk.

He barely makes it to the counter before he throws her onto it, his cock slipping free for a moment, before he pulls her back by the hips, fumbles to enter her again, then starts pounding into her with a new found need. She squeals and whines, hands curling around the edge of the counter as she squirms on her back, hips meeting his thrusts, feet crossed behind his lower back.

His groans sound loud and animalistic around the open kitchen, the slams of his pelvis against hers creating wet and frantic slapping noises, the squelches of her eager cunt so enticing he can barely breathe. His stomach is tense, his balls ready to burst, but he pumps through it until he forces another orgasm out of her. She arches her back, body contorted so beautifully as she comes hard around his pounding cock, her walls contracting, milking him for what he's worth.

He's sweating by the time he allows himself to reach the edge as well, and when he comes, he slams into her hard and stills, a loud grunt slipping from his throat, feeling his cock spurting hot cum into her depths, hands tight around her waist, adding to the bruises she already has there. For a moment he savors her soft little breaths, ragged and raw, her body pliant beneath him, chest heaving, hooded eyes following his every move.

Slowly he leans over her, resting on his forearms as he looks at her, still panting with his heart racing, his hands finding her soft hair when he nuzzles his nose against hers. “H-how do you... feel?” he gasps breathlessly.

“Nice and full. No longer hungry,” she whispers with a small smirk on her quivering lips.

He huffs a laugh and presses his mouth to hers. Her hands find his face, and she pulls him in again when he tries to lean back, her kiss soft and gentle, but demanding. He puts more of his weight on her and deepens the kiss, lets his tongue slip between her lips and tastes every inch of her mouth before she meets his motions and mirrors them.

“But,” she pants between kisses when they're both breathless. “There's always room for pizza...”

His chuckle is swallowed by her eager mouth, and he tries to move, tries to stand up, but she clings to him like the insatiable little monkey that she is. Somehow he manages to pull himself up, and her with him, and connected as they still are, lips glued together, cock still buried in her clenching cunt, he makes it back to the desk. Sitting down proves a little difficult with the girl attached to him like this, and the chair aches beneath their combined weight once more, but once he sits, and she on top of him, leaning heavy on his softening dick, he rolls them to the computer and pulls up the details of the nearby pizza place.

She remains sitting on him, cockwarming him again, with their combined warmth slowly seeping down onto his sweatpants and the seat, but she's too cute to shoo away now. She looks so content, resting her head on his shoulder, watching him with that happy little smile on her swollen lips, her face still flushed, hair stuck to her damp forehead. He must look much the same, exhausted as he is, but neither of them mind.

He's told the delivery driver to leave the box in front of his door, and having paid beforehand (badly denting his balance once more, but he couldn't care less about that right now), they shouldn't need to face anyone. Voicing his worries on how to get to it though, she's suggested just rolling to the door and she'll bend down to pick it up, and neither of them have to get up. That was the plan, anyway.

“This is ridiculous!” he mumbles as he rolls them closer to the door, the chair groaning under the task. She giggles, knees tight around his hips, pelvis pressed down to maintain their connection, one hand on his shoulder as she stretches the other arm out to reach the door handle. At least she's having fun. And it's the main reason why he lets her do this acrobatic stunt.

It would have been easier to get up and walk to the door, pick up the pizza carton and return to the chair, and then he would have let her get back on his cock if she was so desperate to feel him inside of her, but she's pouted at him, not wanting to get up, to lose just a single drop of his warm seed, it's too cozy, come on, you like this too, don't you? She's manipulating him, and he lets her, because it's better than having her kneeling on the floor, begging him to use her while equally being afraid of any kind of punishment for the same neediness.

It may not be the healthiest development, but it's something. He certainly prefers a needy, bratty girl to a meek, submissive one. It's definitely switching up his slightly boring life, that's for sure.

She's straining on top of him, having managed to open the door, and he's glad he's on the top floor with no neighbors, and luckily the delivery guy didn't hang around either. He rolls them closer to the square box on his doormat, then puts his feet down to stabilize them. She stretches, moaning under the exertion, but her short arm can't reach, her fingers helplessly twitching in the air, several inches away from the desired pizza.

“Let me,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and turns the chair, his left arm extending, stretching until his fingertips brush against the cardboard.

“Almost!” she quips, holding onto him, watching his attempt to reach their lunch with a nervous bounce that makes him groan and his cock harden all over again.

“Sit still, please,” he growls, reaching further, index finger hooking under the edge of the box, but before he can lift it and grab it properly, the chair gives an angry squeak, and the world turns sideways.

In the few seconds it takes for them to lose their balance and the chair to roll away from under them, he has the mind to wrap his arms tightly around the girl's small body and turn his shoulder, managing to land on his side, hard but at least cushioning her fall, her shrill shriek echoing in his ears and along the hallway, his own grunt stuck in his throat. The momentum makes them roll further, and she whines when her leg catches under his hip.

He ends up lying on top of her, but she's caged in, he on his hands and knees, his sweatpants tangled around his thighs, while her legs are still wrapped tightly around his waist, pushing his shirt up enough to let the cool air hit his bare ass, and for some godforsaken reason they are still joined. Her cunt clenches around his cock as if holding onto him for dear life. Exhaling loudly, he rolls them onto their side, right there in his entryway, on the cold concrete, inches away from the deliciously smelling pizza carton on the doormat.

She seems frozen in shock, but he looks at her, and the frown and frustration of their little accident turns into a hysterical laughing fit. She joins in a little timidly, but then giggles with him, snuggling against him, face buried in his chest. He rolls onto his back, moving one arm to cover his eyes as he keeps chuckling, while she sits up on him and reaches for the pizza, grinding her hips into him slowly, making him shiver.

“Hungry?” she whispers, and when he lowers his arm, she's holding a piece of steaming dough covered in amazingly smelling melted cheese in her hand.

He smirks at her and gives her a wink. “Always,” he replies and reaches for her wrist, pulling it closer before he props himself up on one elbow and takes a big bite.

She smiles softly and starts nibbling on the rest of the slice, their eyes meeting when they both chew. “You're something, you know that?” he says past the bite in his mouth, shaking his head slightly.

A frown stops the happy gleam in her eyes, and she swallows hard. “I'm sorry...”

He shakes his head again, sitting up fully to reach his free hand out to caress her warm face. The motion causes her to slip between his thighs a little, and she grabs his shoulder to move her pelvis back against him. “Stop apologizing, it's fine. It was a compliment,” he says, bringing his greasy lips to hers, which she dodges with a shriek and a giggle, but then moves her own against his as they share a pizza flavored kiss. “I've certainly never eaten pizza on the floor with a cute girl impaled on my cock, that's a first...”

She blushes deeply, her hand moving around his neck to hold onto him as she starts grinding her hips into him once more. A groan escapes him, and he silences it by shoving the rest of the slice she's holding into his mouth, glaring at her in mock irritation.

When he reaches for a new slice, he bucks his hips up into her, making her squeak, but she only leans more into him, meeting the motion until she's properly riding him again, hips undulating slowly while they both share more of the pizza. He feels her clamping down around him, her breaths quickening, but she stays at the edge, never falling over, focused on eating and looking at him and sharing grease covered kisses.

He can't believe he found this girl less than a day ago in such a horrible state that he'd feared he'd found a corpse, left behind and mutilated, covered in blood and cum, a shell of a girl, just a body thrown away after too much wear and tear. To see her now, smiling and giggling, eating happily while riding his cock, feels like a dream, unreal on so many levels.

His hand slips under her big shirt as he feels his way up and down her back until he curves it around her plump rear, squeezing softly. Teasing a finger between her cheeks, he watches her gasp, cunt clenching tighter around his cock when his fingertip circles her rosebud. He's never been much into anal, only tried it once or twice with girls who were absolute not happy to have a cock up their asses, but this girl... he's ashamed to think like this, but he can't help it... this girl seems like she's done it all and enjoys most of it thoroughly.

He looks at her when he gives his finger a little nudge, straightening it, feeling the tight ring of muscles give way a little, and she mewls, arching her back, mouth agape. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, voice hoarse and low. She nods, even moves her rear back against his hand, wiggling her ass to let his finger slide in deeper. He indulges her and presses as deep as his finger will go, feeling her tight muscles tense around his digit when she moans deeply.

He leaves it there, immobile, feeling his invading member pulsing through the thin membrane between her holes. His other hand finds her hip and makes her move again after she's paused her grinding motions for a moment. She's quick to follow through, resuming to bounce up and down on his throbbing cock, arms wrapped around his neck as she clings to him, huffing and puffing into his ear, straining her thighs, and he moves with her, putting his feet on the ground to angle his legs and give himself better leverage.

Together they push themselves closer and closer to the edge, her cunt clamping down on him as he pushes deep and hard and fast, in and out, shallow snaps of his hips, angled just right to hit all the special spots inside her sensitive channel. When her noises become louder, she buries her face in the crook of his neck, hot breaths on his skin, soft vibrations when she moans and mewls, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulls his finger from her ass and a little squeal from her throat, and embraces her tightly, pushing through the ache in his legs to get to the finish line. They fall over it in tandem, she a few seconds before him as she comes hard on his dick, her orgasm crashing through her and him as she tightens around him enough to hurl him right over the edge as well. He comes with a grunt when his balls twitch and unload his hot seed deep inside her through the wild throbbing of his cock.

She's still spasming on top of him when he falls onto his back and pulls her with him, both of them panting, hearts racing, beating steadily against each other as he cradles her to his chest. Her hips jerk, legs trembling, his own fall away limply. They're a heap of limbs on the floor, entangled, sweaty, but sated, his stomach relaxed and full of pizza, hers swimming with his seed. Fuck it, the damage is done, echoes that one voice through his head that made him fall into this sex frenzy in the first place.

He's forcing the post-nut clarity away another moment when he presses his lips to the top of her head, savoring the soft feel of her hair, but a strange uncertainty burns under his nails, forcing the words to spill out of his mouth without much revision. “Hey, uh, this is probably a bad time to ask this, but... you... uh, are you on birth control?” It's as empathetic as he could have worded it.

“I can't get pregnant,” she whispers in response, her voice feeble and barely audible as she snuggles into him. “He had me sterilized.”

It's like an ice bucket to his head (literally the entire bucket) as white-hot anger crashes through him. That fucking bastard! He's shocked to hear her say this so casually, and it only makes him even madder. Unable to respond to this horrifying revelation (and he's even angrier at himself for being a little bit relieved too), he just hugs her tighter, exhaling loudly into her hair, making loose strands fly.

What a horrible life. A girl her age, done away with all the things that made her human, a free will, the ability to bear children, a life on her own. Instead she was forced to become a literal sex doll, just a body with holes to fill without any consequences for those filling her. Disgusting. The poor thing...

All the more reason to make her remaining existence the best she could possibly ask for.

With her in his arms, he rolls them around until he's hovering above her, then leans on his elbows to cup her face, smiling softly at her. “You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he tells her when she looks at him in confusion, her lip worried between her teeth. “You are amazing, okay? A pretty girl with a wonderful soul,” he adds, leaning down to pepper her warm face with kisses.

She inhales sharply, but quickly falls into soft giggles when he kisses her nose and her temples and her eyebrows before claiming her mouth for a searing kiss. “I am sorry for what you had to endure,” he continues between kisses. “Nobody deserves such a life...” He moves his affections along her cheek to her jaw and down her neck. Her heartbeat throbs against his lips as he presses them to her pulse. “And I want to give you a better one,” he whispers, slowly leaning back up to look at her. “Will you let me?”

She stares up at him, breathless, flushed, her hands wandering up his sides to rub over his shirt. Her lips are quivering, tears brimming in her eyes. A little whine escapes her when she opens her mouth, and embarrassed about the sound, she closes it again, and nods instead, a timid little smile grazing her lips.

“Yeah?” he breathes, and she nods again, before he huffs a relieved chuckle, then moves down to capture her mouth for a slow and deep kiss that she replies instantly, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him tightly.

For a small moment something cold crashes through his endorphin flooded body. He realizes that by taking her away, saving her from the clutches of other men, he mirrors the same move that bastard who took her in first had done. But it's not the same, he tells himself. He'll keep her until she's able to live on her own, find a new purpose in life, away from sexual servitude. And he knows he won't be able to stay away from her, not now that his cock has made a home inside her warm body, carved a place that only fits him.

She told him she is his to use, and even if he doesn't agree with her wording, he sees it now. But this isn't a one-sided thing, he wants her to use him too. It's not so bad if they're both doing it, right? Use each other? No, not use, but enjoy, worship, love? Eventually, maybe.

All he knows is that he won't abandon her, and if she can't be alone he'll drag her along with him, wherever he goes, probably not attached by the hip or by his cock in her cunt, society isn't ready for that kind of display, but they'll be together, and after spending most of his life alone, walking, searching, it feels nice to have someone by his side, to share things, be it pizza on the floor, or a good fuck, or both at the same time.

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

End notes: I feel as if I could continue their story endlessly, and maybe I will, eventually, but for now I will end it here. Thank you for reading and coming along on this little side road with me.

For those of you who have read INFATUATED, I hope you won't look at Sir differently now, I had to make him look a lot worse here than he is in that other story. Just be glad he's treating Darling better than this poor girl (well, for the most part, anyway, hm).

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

#ao3 original work #strangers to lovers #dead dove do not eat #praise k!nk #objectification kink #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #sebastian sallow smut #tom riddle smut #mattheo riddle smut #marcus lopez smut #original fiction

97 notes · View notes

linos-luna · 11 months ago

Note

Please I'm so sad now because I cant bare the fact that changbin actually needs us to survive in the changchan yandere fic, like I'm guilt stricken, please give me a part three with a happy ending 😭

👌 Okay Bestie 👌

——————————————————————

Our Doll (Pt. 3) 🔪

Yandere!Chan x Reader x Yandere!Changbin

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, obsession

(Pt 1) (Pt 2) (Pt 3) (Pt. 4)

——————————————————————

Getting back to normal life was hard.

Of course you went to the police, but they couldn't do much. You didn't know where they took you. it wasn't Chan's place and so maybe it was Changbin’s. But you’ve never been to his house before on any other occasion. All you could do was file a police report, so that they can ‘investigate further.’

You knew that not much would happen and you tried getting back to your life.

But now you’re just paranoid…

You didn’t even want to stay at your own home. You often stayed with some friends, hoping that the two men wouldn’t find you. You hoped to save enough money to move but couldn’t even bring yourself to go outside, let alone go to work. You became secluded, only interacting with friends that would come see you.

~~~~ ♡

Meanwhile, Changbin was depressed. The man couldn’t stand you not being there. He wanted you so bad.

Chan did his best to cheer his friend up but nothing seemed to work. He’s done everything to locate you to no avail. It was driving him crazy as well. But he was also a little sour as well. How could Changbin let you escape?? Why didn’t Changbin understand that you’re his too??

Chan was angry and annoyed. How could you do this to him?! He wanted to find you to punish you. Then to lock you away for himself.

Eventually Changbin opted to go out and get some food, then maybe drive around to find you… again. Chan thought he was like a lost puppy and felt bad…

~~~~~ ♡

After a month you started going out more, trying to a off the weight of paranoia and depression. At the grocery store, you had a small list, a reminder of both what you needed and your budget.

While browsing, a you felt a presence behind you, making your heart race.

"Oh thank god I found you!" the man exclaimed, and before you could react, he covered your mouth, pulling you into the employee backroom.

“Changbin?!” You muttered against his hand.

"Stop moving! I don't wanna hurt you!" Changbin's plea echoed in the dim backroom, and defeated, you ceased your struggle. Tears traced down your cheeks as you surrendered.

"Baby, you don't understand how much I missed you!" Changbin's voice softened as he planted a kiss on your cheek. "Why did you leave?!"

Feeling constrained, you desperately tapped his hand until he released his grip. Turning to face him, you took in the sight of his disgruntled appearance, hair a bit overgrown and eyes desperate yet exhausted.

"How did you find me?!" you yelled.

"Y/n, I missed you so much!" Changbin said, ignoring your question, and grabbing your hands.

"I'm a wreck without you! Please, please, please!!! Stay with me!!" His plea echoed in the employee area, and you awkwardly backed away, surprised that no one had kicked you guys out yet. Despite your attempt to retreat, his grip on your hand remained firm.

"No, don't go!" Changbin pleaded, tears forming as he clung on tight, his desperation evident. "Don't leave me, dolly! Don't leave me!"

"Changbin, stop!" you said in a loud whisper, glancing around, embarrassed."Get up!"

"I want you back! I can't live without you!"

As sick as he was, you felt your heart breaking. But why? He kidnapped you??

"Binnie, where's Chan?" you questioned in a hushed tone.

"At home," he replied, his eyes glassy. "We've been looking for you... I just wanted to find you myself."

"You want to bring me back to the house? Whose house is it?" you asked, now curious.

"Mine... I bought it for you," he sighed.

“You bought a house just for me?”

"Mmhm..."

"Do you... do you like sharing with Chan?" you asked, getting an idea.

"Well… He's my best friend."

"B-but do you like sharing?" you pressed, seeing if you could cast some doubt in him.

"I—well..." Changbin stuttered. "You're... you're the love of my life..."

"Yes, but..." you paused. "You... you don't like sharing..."

Changbin found himself caught in a dilemma, torn between his best friend and the love of his life

"Binnie... h-how about you come home with me...?"

"Really?!"

"Yeah," you replied with a weak smile, putting your finger to your lips in a hushing motion. "Just don't tell Channie, okay?"

“Ok! Okay! Anything!” He nodded desperately while getting up.

~~~~~~~~ ♡

The drive home was awkward. You drove with him in the passenger seat as he desperately confessed his love for you.

As you entered your home, Changbin's was ecstatic when you closed the door and gave you a tight hug. "I love you, doll!"

"Binnie, are you hungry?"

"No. I just want you," he quickly replied, making you roll your eyes.

"Well, then I'll make myself a snack..." you sighed, realizing that you hadn't bought what you needed at the grocery store.

For now you had some grapes and strawberries, bringing them out in a bowl with you.

You nervously sat on the couch and patted the spot next to you, indicating for him to sit.

Changbin excitedly sat down and kissed your cheek.

“Binnie… can you promise me something?” You asked while popping a grape in your mouth, followed by a blueberry.

“Yes yes! Anything!!” He replied quickly.

“Promise… you’ll never hurt me…”

“I’d never!”

“Changbin I mean it!” You interrupted. “No choking, no hitting, no nothing!”

“Okay yes! I promise!” He replied while grabbing your hand. “I’ll never hurt you! Never ever!”

You nodded and started to think, wondering what were you going to do about his friend now. At least for now, you don’t have to worry too much about one of the two men. Heck, maybe he could be like some type of bodyguard…

"Maybe I can buy you dinner," Changbin suggested, interrupting your thoughts.

"Oh. Sure," you replied awkwardly, checking the time on your phone; it was barely 3 pm.

"Can we take a nap first? I’m kind of tired.”

"Oh! Yes!" Changbin eagerly agreed, clearly exhausted and in need of rest himself.

Leading him to your room, you watched as he lay down. As you removed some jewelry and your sweater, you turned around to find that he had already fallen asleep. He looked so peaceful and you couldn't help but lay down beside him, facing him. Gently brushing your fingers against his cheek and down his chest, you marveled at the peacefulness that had settled over him. He didn't move much, exhausted and in a deep sleep.

~~~~ ♡

“God, where is he??” Chan was pacing in the living room, wondering where the hell his friend went. It worried him actually.

He honestly doesn’t understand how he hasn’t been able to find you. He thought he was cunning and smart enough to figure it out but no. You’ve managed to evade him. It saddened him. Now he knows what Changbin feels. Sad but also alone.

The man held on to a shirt you left behind, your sweet scent still lingering. If only he could touch the real person… he just wants you in his arms.

It wasn’t until way later that Changbin came back. He seemed nonchalant and went to his room. Chan followed after him.

“Where have you been?” Chan asked while standing at the door.

“Looking for our dolly…”

“Any luck? Clues? Anything??” Chan asked, his heart racing.

“No…”

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop smut #fanfic #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x poc reader #stray kids yandere #yandere stray kids #skz yandere #yandere skz #yandere changbin #yandere chan #yandere Changbin x reader #Changbin x poc reader #kpop yandere #yandere kpop

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aces-personal-whore · 1 month ago

Text

Doflamingo x Defiant!Reader Smut Ch. 2

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Hi frens. Welcome back to the most unhinged (but realistic) Doffy fanfic out there. This chapter is a bit worse than the last one, so prepare yourselves. Doflamingo is more aggressive and forceful with you.

☣️WARNINGS: NONCON/RAPE, NSFW, MDNI, smut, sexual assault, abuse, violence, aggression

Themes in this chapter: NONCON/RAPE, Aggressive domination, forced submission, forced creampie, breeding, inflation, hardcore BDSM, degradation and humiliation, punishment.

Notes: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THERE IS NONCON/RAPE THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE FANFICTION. THIS FANFICTION IS VERY GRAPHIC AND MAY BE TRIGGERING, UPSETTING, OR DISTRESSING TO SOME READERS. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!

P.S. I'm sorry if I forgot to change any pronouns/names/etc. ;-; I'm still trying, aight. I do update these after I've reread them and gone through them a couple times, but there may still be some things I miss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[Chapter 2]

You curled up into a ball on the bed, your body shaking with sobs as the full weight of what had just happened settled in. For a few moments, you were lost in your grief, the injustice of it all overwhelming.

Eventually, you gathered the strength to look for your dress, underwear, and bra. Slowly and methodically, you put them on, the familiar touch of your clothes offering you a small semblance of normality.

Deciding it was time to leave the room, you began heading towards the door, your movements deliberate and purposeful. You wanted to put as much distance between yourself and Doflamingo as possible.

As you walked out, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. You knew you couldn't escape what had happened, that you were now bound to Doflamingo and his twisted desires. But for now, the simple act of leaving the room felt like a small rebellion against the life he had forced upon you.

You didn't know where you were going, or what you planned to do, but right now, all you wanted was to get away, to gather your thoughts and try to understand what had just happened to you.

You trekked carefully through the hallway, your senses heightened as you listened for any sounds that might indicate Doflamingo's or anyone else's presence. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard footsteps in the distance, and a sense of panic gripped you.

You quickly scanned the area for a place to hide, your eyes falling on a small alcove to your left. It was barely large enough for one person, but it would have to do.

Without hesitation, you ducked into the alcove, your heart pounding in your chest. You pressed your back against the wall, trying to make yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible.

You held your breath, waiting for the footsteps to draw nearer. Sweat beaded on your forehead as your mind raced, wondering what would happen if Doflamingo caught you. For now, though, your only concern was to remain hidden, to avoid any further confrontation.

Your body trembled with a mixture of fear and humiliation, a stark reminder of the traumatic events that had just transpired. As the footsteps grew closer, you closed your eyes, silently praying for them to pass by without noticing you.

The person stopped right in front of where you were hiding, as if they were sensing you were there. Your heart nearly stopped when you realized that the person in front of you was Doflamingo. The unmistakable pink of his feather coat had given him away, and now, you were trapped.

You could feel the strings of his Devil Fruit coming to life, moving around you, sensing your presence. They attached themselves to your limbs, and you were forced out of the alcove, your body coming into view in front of Doflamingo.

His palace was covered in a delicate web of his strings, and the slightest disturbance would alert him to your presence.

You stood there, frozen, your body trembling from head to toe. You couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness, as if there was no escape from Doflamingo's grasp.

His eyes met yours, and you could see a mix of amusement and triumph in his gaze. He had caught you, and now you were at his mercy once more.

"Trying to get away, are we?" Doflamingo's voice was filled with a dark, twisted amusement as he released the strings that held you captive. "My entire palace is coated in webs of my strings, so any movement you make, any chances you try to escape, my strings alert me to them, like a spider catching its prey."

He stepped closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours, a predatory gleam in them. "We need to deal with your anger and resistance. I won't have you defying me or disrespecting me. We both know you can't escape me, so it's best to accept your fate." Doflamingo's confidence was unwavering, and there was no mistaking the dangerous edge in his voice. "Now, come with me. We're going to have a... 'talk', and you're going to learn to accept your place in my kingdom."

"No- Doflamingo!!" You resisted the pull of his strings, crying and sobbing loudly, fighting with all of your might not to be dragged into what was about to come.

"Don't even fucking think about it." Doflamingo's voice was cold and firm as he yanked the strings, preventing you from breaking free. "You'll learn soon enough that resistance is futile. I'm not a man you want to anger. I'll make your life a living hell if you continue to defy me. Come now, let's have that... 'talk'. You'll find that the more you cooperate, the easier your life will be here."

Doflamingo's confidence was absolute, and he didn't break his stride as he led you through his palace, his strings still attached to you, a constant reminder of his control over you.

As you walked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. Doflamingo had claimed you, body and soul, and there was no denying his dominance. You were his to do with as he pleased, and the thought of what he might have in store for you filled you with dread.

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized just how far your life had taken a turn. You were now a part of Doflamingo's twisted world, and there was no escaping it.

Your only hope was that perhaps, through compliance and cooperation, you might be able to endure the horrors that awaited you, to somehow carve out a semblance of a life under his oppressive rule. You began crying harder as you're forcefully drug through the hall, back to the room you were in. "Nooooo! Doflamingo please stop!!"

"Quiet, or I'll make sure this is far worse than you could imagine." Doflamingo's voice was stern, a dangerous edge to it as you continued to cry and protest. He dragged you back to the room, his grip unyielding. The sight of your tears and defiance only served to arouse him further, a dark hunger growing within him.

"Now... since it seems you still haven't learned your place..." Doflamingo's eyes were filled with lust and dominance as he removed the strings, once again retreating out of view. "... Allow me to teach you a lesson you won't forget."

Without warning, Doflamingo grabbed you and pinned you to the bed, his hand gripping your arm tightly as he began to undress you, his movements swift and purposeful. "I'll show you what happens when you disobey and defy me." His voice was a low growl, his arousal and desire for dominance palpable.

You struggled as much as you could, but the truth was, you were no match for Doflamingo. His strength and power were overwhelming, and as he proceeded to undress you, you could only hope that this would be over quickly, that perhaps this time, it wouldn't be as brutal and degrading.

But deep down, you knew that with Doflamingo, there was no such luck. His control over you was complete, and your body, now host to his offspring, was his to use as he pleased.

The thought of what was to come filled you with dread, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for the onslaught of his dominance.

Doflamingo removed your clothes with a cold efficiency, leaving you exposed and bare. As he inspected your body, he noticed the lack of marks, and gave a menacing grin, eager to make his mark.

He discarded his feather coat and suit, his eyes never leaving your body. He flipped you over and pinned you face down on the bed, tying your ankles and wrists to the mattress with his strings, leaving you helpless, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and humiliation.

For a moment, he admired your form, and his fingers traced over your skin, his touch cold and clinical. He fondled and caressed your body, his fingers lingering on your ass, making you squirm in disgust and discomfort under his touch.

He pulled back, and you heard an unfamiliar sound as he crafted a makeshift whip from his strings that shot out from his palm. The air was thick with tension as you braced yourself for what was to come.

With a flick of his wrist, the string whip crackled through the air, landing with a stinging blow on your ass. You cried out in pain, your body writhing on the bed as Doflamingo continued to punish you, each lash drawing fresh tears and gasps from your lips.

His strings were merciless, the whip lashing out again and again, leaving red welts across your back, ass, and thighs. The pain was intense, and you could only hope that it would end soon, that perhaps, once he had satisfied his need to punish you, he would leave you in peace.

But as you lay there, battered and bruised, you knew that this was just the beginning of your new life under Doflamingo's control. The fear and humiliation were overwhelming, and you couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how much you resisted or cried, Doflamingo's dominion over you was absolute.

Your body shuddered in pain, but it was more than that. It was the realization of your new reality—that you were now a pawn in Doflamingo's twisted game, and the consequences of defying him came at a terrible cost.

"Doflamingo..." you squeaked out, "please... stop..."

"Be silent, or I'll make this punishment last all night." Doflamingo's voice was cold and threatening, his arousal not diminishing even after his previous act of violence.

As he continued to lash your body with his string whip, he bent down, his lips leaving a trail of hickeys on the nape of your neck. The sensation of his teeth on your skin was both painful and degrading, a mark of his possession.

His fingers trailed down your body, stopping occasionally to admire his work. You could feel the heat of his desire, the evidence of his lust for you pressing against your ass.

"You need to understand that I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want." Doflamingo's words were filled with a dangerous confidence, his dominance absolute. Each time you squirmed or cried out, you could hear his soft chuckle, a twisted form of amusement that only fueled his sadistic pleasure.

You could feel your body growing more and more exhausted, the pain and humiliation taking a toll on you. But still, Doflamingo continued, his desire to break you and assert his dominance unwavering.

Your only comfort lay in the hope that perhaps, once he had satisfied his need for control, he would leave you to rest. But the truth was, in Doflamingo's kingdom, there was no escape from his desires or his cruelty.

As you lay there, battered and bruised, you could only pray for the end of this terrible ordeal. But even as you did, you knew that it was only the beginning, and that in Doflamingo's twisted world, the only constant was his relentless pursuit of power and control.

The fear and humiliation seemed to consume you, your body aching and your spirit broken. Doflamingo retracted his strings and flipped you onto your back, causing you to hiss in pain and cry from the intense pain and humiliation. You panted heavily, you mind starting to dissociate. "Doflamingo... it hurts..." you croaked out, your voice hardly a whisper, as all your strength had been sapped. All you could do at this point is just let whatever happen happen and hope it doesn't last too long.

"Good." Doflamingo's response was cruel and calloused. His control over you was all-encompassing, and at this point, you could only hope for mercy and an end to your suffering. But mercy was not a virtue Doflamingo possessed. He regarded you with a mixture of lust and pride. "I want you to remember this pain, to remember who owns you." His words were cold, devoid of any empathy as he positioned himself between your legs, his arousal evident.

With a single, swift motion, he entered you, his desire for dominance driving him to claim your body once more, this time, as punishment for your defiance.

The pain from his penetration mixed with the stinging welts, making you cry out, your mind beginning to blur the lines between reality and the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

Doflamingo began to move, his thrusts deliberate and forceful, a show of his dominance and control over you. You could feel the tears streaming down your face, your body trembling as you braced yourself for the brutal onslaught.

Your mind dissociated further, the pain and humiliation becoming too much to bear. All you could do was endure, hoping that this, too, would pass, that perhaps, once he had satisfied his need for dominance, you could rest, even if only for a short while.

But deep down, you knew that there would be no rest for the conquered. Your body, now host to his offspring, was his to use and abuse as he pleased, and the thought of what was to come filled you with dread.

The fear, humiliation, and pain mingled together, leaving you in a haze, as you lay there, helpless, and utterly at his mercy. Doflamingo's control over you was complete, and there was no escape from his twisted world.

Even in your dissociated state, a small part of you, buried deep within, refused to accept this fate, but for now, all you could do was endure the onslaught with a mixture of pain, humiliation, and despair, hoping for an end to your suffering.

As Doflamingo assaulted you again, you were moaning—not from pleasure, but pain as you continued crying.

"That's it, scream for me." Doflamingo's voice was full of sadistic pleasure as he continued to assault you, the sounds of your moans and cries only serving to arouse him further.

His fingers traced along your swollen stomach, his strings working their magic, preparing your cervix once more to receive the seed of his dominance.

"You're nothing but a vessel for my offspring now." His words were a mix of command and degradation, his desire for humiliation evident in his tone.

As he fucked you, he continued stripping away any remaining shreds of your dignity and humanity. You cried and moaned, the pain and humiliation overwhelming, your body shaking under his assault.

You tried to push the thoughts of what this meant for you aside, unable to bear the reality of your situation. But Doflamingo's relentless pursuit of dominance left you with no escape, your body and mind at his mercy.

"You little fucking slut, I'm going to fill you up again, whether you like it or not." Doflamingo's voice was a mix of pleasure and spite, his arousal reaching its peak as he put you into a mating press.

He thrust deep inside you, his cock lodged firmly against your cervix, his movements slow and deliberate. The shaft of his cock pulsed, his testicles drawing up and tightening, pressing against your ass with each throb, churning out more of his seed into your womb.

Your body shuddered under his possession, the connection between you two a twisted, violent display of dominance and submission. His cock was buried inside you, the swollen tip of his glans pressed against your cervix, as he poured his seed directly into your womb once more.

Your body shuddered under his possession, the connection between you two a twisted, violent display of dominance and submission.

The pulsing of his cock intensified, each throb driving more of his cum into your body, the semen pooling in your womb, a testament to Doflamingo's conquest of your body. The sight of your stomach swelling further, stretching to accommodate his seed, still only served to prolong his orgasm, driving him to ejaculate even more, as if to see just how much his semen could fill your body.

The visual connection between you two was a gruesome display of violation and degradation. Doflamingo's cock, slick with your fluids and his cum, was buried deep within you, stretching and filling you as he emptied himself into your womb. Your stomach, bloated and swollen from his previous seed, grew even larger, the curves of your body distorted by his relentless desire to fill you with offspring.

His balls, tight and heavy with the weight of his semen, pressed against your ass with each pulsating throb, a testament to his unyielding control over your body. The mark of his possession was clear, his cum filling you, and his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place as he claimed you in the most primal manner possible.

As Doflamingo continued to spill his seed into your womb, his expression was a mix of satisfaction and vicious pleasure, the sight of your body being used as a vessel for his offspring driving him to the brink of ecstasy. His eyes never left the sight of your stomach, growing with each pulsating throb of his cock, a twisted form of entertainment for the twisted king of Dressrosa.

The sight of your connected genitalia was a macabre and haunting image, a stark reminder of your new reality, a reality where Doflamingo's dominance and control knew no bounds, and where your body, once your own, was now nothing more than a host for his seed.

The degradation, the violation, and the pain were all too real, your body a mere plaything for Doflamingo's dark desires. Even as he watched your stomach swell, you knew that this was just the beginning, that in Doflamingo's twisted world, there would be no end to your suffering, no respite from his constant need for control and dominion over you.

As Doflamingo's orgasm finally subsided, you lay there, battered and bruised, your body aching and your spirit broken. The only thing you could do anymore is cry as your body was assaulted again... Your back stung, dark purple bruises covered your neck... You laid there, hoping the moment would pass quicker.

He dislodged his glans from your abused cervix, leaving you feeling empty and raw. His fingers traced intricate patterns along your swollen stomach, a cruel reminder of his dominance over your body.

With deft, precise movements, Doflamingo used his strings to sew your cervix shut, effectively sealing his essence inside you. The sensation of the strings piercing your tender flesh was yet another layer of pain and violation, a cruel twist of his sadistic desires.

Your body had begun dissociating from reality, essentially blacking you out, making everything that happened almost a blur in a desperate attempt to protect you from the trauma you just endured.

"You're not allowed to fade out on me, bitch. Stay with me." Doflamingo's voice was a harsh, demanding growl as he noticed your dissociation, his fingers tightening their grip on your flesh.

Your body, battered and bruised, continued to dissociate from the pain and humiliation, your mind retreating to a dark, distant place. The assault on your body had become a blur, your senses overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of violence and degradation.

"I said, stay with me!" Doflamingo's voice was a harsh slap, bringing you back to the present moment. His eyes bore into yours, a mix of cruelty and anger etched across his features.

He slapped you across the face, the sting of his palm against your cheek a harsh reminder of your place under him. You let out a piercing howl. His words were a harsh command, a demand for your attention, your mind, and your body.

"You belong to me now, and I won't have you fading out during our special moments." His tone was a mix of mockery and possession. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his words a low, menacing growl. "Remember, you're mine now, and I'll do whatever I want with you, whenever I want. And you'll take it, because you have no choice." He knew that your mind was broken, your spirit shattered, and reveled in the complete and utter control and power he held over you.

As you lay there, broken and bleeding, your body a canvas for his cruelty and degradation, Doflamingo's words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of your new reality, a reality where you were nothing more than a plaything for his twisted desires, a vessel for his offspring, and a slave to his unyielding, sadistic rule.

You looked at him with misty eyes, your tears unable to stop flowing. You tried your hand at scooching back to make some space between you two and catch your breath, and was successful. You presume Doflamingo let you because he knew you weren't going anywhere—not after what he just did to you. You sat up, your weeping eyes not leaving your rapist.

"Look at you, so fragile and broken." Doflamingo's voice was a mocking whisper as he watched you scooch away, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

He let you move, his grip on you loosening just enough to allow you to catch your breath. But the illusion of freedom was fleeting, a cruel reminder of the chains that bound you to him, invisible yet inescapable.

Doflamingo reached up, his hand moving towards your face, causing you to flinch, your hands instinctively coming up to protect yourself, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle, his fingers caressing your neck, a stark contrast to the brutality he had just subjected you to. His touch was a reminder of his power, his ability to switch between cruelty and tenderness, keeping you off-balance, never knowing what to expect.

"Your reactions are so delightfully predictable." His words were a purr, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you cower under his touch. Before you could react, he pulled you in, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood.

The kiss was a violation, a reminder of his dominance over you, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, leaving no part of you untouched. It was a kiss that told you that you were his, body and soul, and that there was no escape from his grasp.

As he pulled away, you were left gasping for air, your lips swollen, your body trembling under his touch. Doflamingo's eyes were dark, filled with a mix of lust and cruelty, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every inch of your bruises and marks.

"You're mine now, and I'll never let you go." His words were a promise, a threat, and a declaration of his unyielding control over you. "And soon, you'll learn to love it, to crave it, to beg for it."

The thought of being his forever, of being reduced to nothing more than a plaything for his twisted desires, sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and unwanted arousal. Your body, battered and bruised, betrayed you, responding to his touch, to his words, a testament to the power he held over you.

As Doflamingo pulled you in for another kiss, you knew that this was your new reality, a reality where pain and pleasure were intertwined, where your body was no longer your own, and where Doflamingo's will was the only one that mattered.

#dofamingo #one piece #donquixote doflamingo #doffy #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x reader smut #fem reader #one piece smut #x reader #afab reader #doflamingo smut #smut #donquixote family #doffy x reader #doffy x reader smut

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 2 years ago

Note

How greatly do the characters from the original show differ from the comic? I've noticed that Rose is a lot less jovial in the comics compared her appearances in the show. Canon rose also carries this air of naivety even in tense situations, whereas comic rose is a bit more level headed

They're definitely different, but in a way that I hope would... make sense? For the difference in their lives as it diverges from canon.

Actually, people are always quick to tell me that I seem to characterize Rose differently from the canon show. And I don't deny that! But I think the reasoning behind that is solid, or at least I hope it is.

1. The First Divergence

First - this Rose didn't just fall in love with Greg and then evolved from there. She met Greg once, lost track of him when he left on his way to stardom, and then their paths aligned again when he came back to Beach City a much more broken individual.

They still connected heavily, like the first time, but their love wasn't merely a whirlwind of feelings and misunderstandings. This time, it was more tenuous - Rose had to struggle to understand Greg not only as a human being, but as someone who was recovering from a disillusionment, having fallen through the atmosphere and burned up... like a comet.

Their mutual understanding stemmed not only from a past they wanted to forget, but also from a past that hurt them deeply. It wasn't better or worse... but it was a different facet of it.

2. What You Don't Know Can't Change Ya

When Steven FIRST met Rose, before she knew who he was... she was arguably MUCH sillier and 'naive'. (I would argue that Rose is not really naive so much as she is aggressively positive.)

The change in her overall characterization came about after Steven poofed her (a bit of a reality check) and when he began to question the gems about the colonization of earth, which made her a bit more morose. I feel like that's not entirely uncharacteristic, given how much it still weighs heavily on her mind.

3. Knowledge is a Curse

The REAL pivot in Rose's personality came at a specific plot turn.

When Steven brought Earl back to the Temple for the first time, and Rose recognized her, and subsequently connected the dots on who HE was..... she kind of lost it.

All the safety, anonymity, all the work the Crystal Gems have put in before this point, all became pointless in the blink of an eye. Her power was barely enough to protect her friends the first time. Now, she was reliving her worst nightmare, but in high definition.

I don't think it's clear in this shot, but Rose isn't looking at Steven. She's looking at Earl, who picks Steven up and pulls him away after her.

All at once, the past which she has been avoiding for so long has come back full-force, and for all she knows, she has no gems with her, and she isn't even sure if White is about to reveal everything she has worked so hard to hide, right before wiping the planet she loves clean off the maps - successfully and totally this time.

She had a bit of a crisis during the time Steven was sleeping, is what I'm saying.

It is at this point that Rose's personality changes significantly in the AU, and it is THIS personality that is most often sited as being 'different' from the canon show (the 2 minutes we got of Rose being Rose on tape - the video she made specifically for Steven.)

Rose becomes quieter. She stops smiling.

She observes more than she speaks. And when she does speak, she's usually confused and upset, especially at first, when she expects a White-level evil villain revenge/punishment plot around every corner.

And even after, when she calms down........ she realizes that the situation is even more complex.

But she can't even do that, because Steven doesn't know ANYTHING.

That puts the onus of protecting the secret on HER. She realizes that for the first time, she has power over White Diamond. The power to hurt... or the power to be kind.

In the end, we know which one she choses. And that's not out of character either, I'd hope. If we watched the same show, it won't be.

4. Little Diamond to Big Diamond

And it isn't as simple as 'Rose is more mature now'. But that's definitely a part of it.

The other part is that she really DOES have things continue to... happen.... that threaten the safety of the earth and the gems over and over again, and Steven is consistently not as powerful nor willing to take a strong stand as she expects him to be.

And even when she DOES show her earlier, sillier side, it's usually very promptly followed by a reality check.

She can't really take a break! She is constantly reminded that her worry-free time on planet earth is no longer for contemplating growth and plants and spending time with the Crystal Gems. The war is back on her doorstep. Again.

...and she is NOT any better prepared to deal with it than she was 5000 years ago.

So yes, this AU's Rose is a bit more... serious? But I don't think it's that far of a deviation, considering the pressure she's under. And I don't think it's unreasonable to say that she's still well within the realms of canon.

Then again, I get the feeling that the people who think I mischaracterize Rose severely expect her to be 1) stupid 2) selfish and 3) annoying.

People may have forgotten that the first time we see Rose... was the final version of her. And she has come a long way since the flashbacks we get at the end of the series.

And now that she's here... she still has further to go. 👀

#chekhov answers #rose quartz wd!au meta #rose quartz #wd!au #white diamond au #meta

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tellmeallaboutit · 6 months ago

Text

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 3

TW for the chapter: self-harm, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, masturbation, problematic mom-daughter relationship

After spending forty minutes on the tube and another twenty squeezed onto a bus with sweaty, boundary-ignorant strangers, you finally got home from your coffee date with the devil.

In that time, you had more or less come to terms with the fact that you had truly lost it.

This left you with three options: First, you could go to a psychiatrist (how do you find a psychiatrist?) and tell the truth. Your laptop is talking to you, a devil is stalking you with the clear intention of fucking you and taking your soul, in no particular order. They'd chalk it up to psychosexual mania, Freudian theories of repressed desires and frustrations. Prescriptions for anti-psychotics and anti-hallucinogens would follow while they dug into your very much fatherless past.

The second thing a person haunted by the devil might do is go to a priest. The last time you set foot in a church was when your mother could make you go, so it would be as much a surprise for the priest to see you there as it would be for you to do so again. Also, you can't help but imagine walking into a confessional only to find Raphael smirking back at you from behind the lattice screen, which brings you back to option one.

The third option was to accept your madness and play along with it. It had already made the last week of your life more exciting than the entire preceding twenty-seven years combined.

It wasn't a difficult choice.

Since your arrival at home, you had not let your phone leave your side for a single second, not in the shower, not on the toilet. Meanwhile, you had begun your preparations for the rendezvous, and you had begun by scheduling your torture for the very next day.

Your tormentor was a petite Vietnamese girl who promised her methods would not hurt, and the execution chamber was a rundown salon down the street that definitely condoned illegal employment practices.

Not like you could afford anything nicer anyway.

You could barely scrape together enough cash for waxing (damn inflation), but imagining that Raphael had watched you straddle a Bad Dragon dildo all natural- unshaved legs and the rest - was way more mortifying than the idea that the devil himself was watching.

After the Vietnamese girl ripped hair from your most sensitive areas, you felt prepared for any infernal punishment. When questioned if it hurt, you lied through clenched teeth.

The rest of the Sunday was a shopping blur. The last time you went on a date was some nine months ago (prior to BG3 coming out), it lasted an hour but left enough of an impression to delete your profile from Bumble, so you were completely out of stock of anything half-way decent, not to speak decent enough for a date with Raphael.

You consulted with the Devil's Den about what to wear and what lingerie Raphael would prefer, which didn't help much as everyone had their own interpretation of his preferences, ranging from none at all to him wearing lingerie himself.

At the start of the working week, your bank balance had dropped by four hundred euros and you still hadn't received any calls on your mobile phone.

Wasn't there a rule about waiting three days? Whoever came up with this shit should spend his afterlife as a lemure.

You went through the motions at work, barely awake during two team conference calls, only to be told you looked "exhausted". This, despite having spent the entire previous day in a facial mask. To add insult to injury, you were scheduled for a "personal development" meeting next week.

In between the conference calls, you took the time to write two essays on Tumblr. The first was about how Raphael would easily conquer the Nine Hells and anyone who doubted that was an idiot (you didn't actually write that, but you certainly meant it).

The second was about how Tav was the real villain for robbing Raphael. Maybe these posts would flatter Raphael enough to prompt him into calling you. Both got a decent amount of likes and reblogs, but not the attention you were hoping for.

On Monday night, you spent a good two hours staring at your phone, desperately waiting for some strange email, some kind of notification, however unsettling it might be.

It's not like Raphael actually works for that bloody law firm, is it?

Or maybe, for devils, the usual waiting time for a call is a couple of years. After all, Raphael was angry for a dozen years that one time.

when you remember you have a mother call me hope you have a nice day

Well, you asked for a disturbing notification, and now you've got one. Your mother had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just one precisely aimed message. Despite being well acquainted with her tactics (which she vehemently denied having), they managed to hit their mark every time.

She wasn’t a bad person, no, far from it; God knows she had enough problems as a single mother in a small and predominantly Catholic town an hour's drive away.

She was the first in her family to go to university, but had to drop out when she became pregnant with you. Went through several terrible relationships, which she ended for your sake. You were her walking shattered dreams.

It hadn't been that long since you'd last spoken on the phone, maybe a week?

OK, a week was long.

“Hi mum," you sighed into your phone. "Sorry, I've been busy."

"With what?" her voice fizzed over the line, laced with a scepticism only a mother can muster.

A solid start.

"With adult life?" you said.

"Adult life is juggling a full-time job, a child and a house that needs constant attention, Anya. You don't have any of that."

"I have a full-time job, Mum, remember?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I know how 'busy' you IT people are. Anyway, I called to tell you something very important".

You were not IT people, you worked for an IT company, but for you mum, you were IT people and therefore by definition overpaid and underworked.

"I was at Nadine's", she said, and made a dramatic pause.

Oh great. Nadine, the human drain on your mother's savings, which were far from abundant. How your mother reconciled her devout Catholicism with regularly going to a fortune teller (and with getting pregnant at twenty out of wedlock) was one of the things that defied your comprehension. She had an intricate system, which only she would call logic, to justify these contradictions; you gave up trying to understand it long ago.

"Don't get upset - it wasn't about you or anything”, you mum said. “Your name just came up in conversation and we ended up doing a reading - just ONE reading, but it was... enlightening."

As every single reading so far.

"Yes?" you asked, not bothering to fake enthusiasm.

"Well..." She drew out the word. "The cards say you're going to meet someone special soon. A King of Pentacles, imagine! So, mature, financially secure, gallant…"

A gallant gentleman would not keep a lady dying for his call.

“There is more, Anja. There was also the Devil in the spread. Do you know what that means?"

You paused. "...the Devil himself is interested in me?"

Your mother let out a joyous laugh.

"Anya, sweetie, I love you, but I don't think THE Devil would be interested in you. Not this way, anyway”.

That stung a bit. After all these years of him supposedly seducing you into premarital sex and drugs, succeeding at the former and barely scratching the pot surface with the latter, and now he was suddenly not interested in you.

Well, that’s where you are wrong, mum. Hopefully.

"No, that means... Now I'm quoting Nadine here, Anya... Negative forces holding you back from reaching your full potential. NEGATIVE THINKING! That's what I've been saying all along!"

“Ah”, you said. “Right”.

You checked out and let the phone rest on the table on loudspeaker, allowing your mother to continue her monologue of small town gossip.The right-side neighbour was fooling around with someone else's wife, neighbour to the left doesn’t mow his lawn. You surfed on your laptop in the meanwhile.

queen-of-the-bored: now did you read that Raph smut I sent you

queen-of-the-bored: that one

You were hoping to get out of reading smut with Raphael and into living it. Ah, hell, maybe that would draw him out somehow. Maybe this would be about him and you, some meta stuff, a special surprise he wrote himself for you.

You opened AO3 and began to scan the warning triggers that preceded the chapter. "Non-con", "pillory confinement", "rough anal sex", "face fucking" and "forced urination", and that was just for starters.

No.

Absolutely fucking not.

“Holy fuck”, you said, and promptly closed the web-page.

"Anya! Watch your mouth! But yes, you are right, of course”, your mom said . “All these years acting like she is the holy and mighty and knows best… ”

you: are you ok recommending stuff like that?

queen-of-the-bored: what queen-of-the-bored: come on now queen-of-the-bored: dude this you?

She sent a screenshot of your Tumblr post with five hundred likes and forty-one reblogs:

"I don't get Hope, I personally would LOVE Raphael to lock me in chains in his basement and do whatever he wants to me <3".

That was undeniably you. Was that what attracted Raphael to you? Is that what he came for?

A sudden epiphany dawned on you: you were far more vanilla than you had let on. Especially on the first date. You didn't want it to turn into a basement horror story. Well, maybe you did, but only if it went exactly according to your script (which categorically did not involve non-consensual rough anal sex), in the kind of basement you liked (stylishly infernal rather than Josef Fritzl one) and with thorough aftercare and lavish praise.

You weren't entirely convinced that this vision was in line with Raphael's preferences. You were not entirely sure what those preferences truly were, for that matter.

You scrubbed all traces of the fanfic from your browsing history and briefly toyed with the idea of posting something along the lines of 'GET THERAPY YOU SICK FUCK' in the comments - just to make sure Raphael knew exactly where you stood on the matter.

What you need to do is search for fanfics tagged with phrases like "Raphael spoils Tav with gifts and sweet nothings", "gentle" and "teeth-rotting fluff".

"And then she said, Anya... guess what, she said..."

***

Tuesday was the third day without a call.

If he did not call today, you decided, you would go to that bloody law firm to drag him out of a conference room and if he was not there, well... you might do the unspeakable.

You might rob the House of Hope for the first time in your life. A woman who has not been called by her favourite devil for three days in a row is a woman in severe mental crisis.

After spending some time day-dreaming your revenge, you finally reach for your phone while still lying in bed.

There were notifications waiting for you, not the ones you wanted. The Raphael romance petition (which you’d passionately signed thrice, using different IPs) had triumphed. The new update included a post-credits dinner and something extra.

The fandom was thrown into chaos upon hearing this announcement (though, truthfully, any news tended to do that). Fans heatedly argued about whether it was pandering, too much fan service, whether it trivialized victims of sexual assault or if it was simply bad taste.

The discord channel buzzed with chatter about that new scene - some dismissed it as too vanilla; others lamented that Larian backtracked on Raphael being a bottom; while some celebrated it as the best thing since Andrew Wincott had cooed "good girl" on a live stream.

In different circumstances, you would be overjoyed and congratulating dmgdgoods for the success of the petition. But now? It felt like cold leftovers in comparison to what you truly craved - seeing Raphael in person, feeling his touch and his breath against your skin.

Regardless, you decided to get ONE bloody dinner you had been promised.

To your dismay, your boss chose today, of all days, to make you work and make you hate your work. You had four useless conference calls during eight working hours, each one an hour apart.

The clock on your computer seemed trapped within some diabolical time warp.

You’d bring an audience with you, you thought as you absent-mindedly typed emails. That’s right, you’d bring an audience.

If Raphael decides to talk to you through the screen, well, there would be your solid proof you were not crazy - and a digital trace - and a message to the whole world that it was you, you, who were his special mouse among the thousands that would rush to House of Hope tonight.

If he doesn't, well… he isn’t calling you either.

You dropped everything the minute the clock struck five, and lectured the rest of your remaining team about the importance of work-life balance and the toxicity of corporate greed.

Then you fired up Twitch.

The witnesses, a twenty-strong user mob, were summoned from across the communities you were in; some you knew, some you guessed who it might be, and a couple of random users.

The House of Hope stood ready.

In the main hall, a table was set for two, draped in red velvet with silver candelabras and a centrepiece of blood-red roses; Larian clearly knew their audience - those who craved Raphael Romance would also enjoy a side dish of gothic horror.

This notion you would subscribe to.

"Ah, my little mouse," Raphael's voice crept into your ears the moment Tav teleported into his domain. "I've been expecting our rendezvous."

His tone was molten honey and made you forget for a moment your annoyance at his lack of calls.

Archdevils Supreme were, after all, notorious workaholics.

Raphael was in his cambion form, which you liked, but preferred the human one. Like this, he would barely fit into your room - how tall was he? Two ten? Two twenty? Your ceilings were two twenty. One flap of those wings could destroy your bookshelf.

The Twitch chat room was quiet; you threw out a test message that elicited a few half-hearted responses. Still there, good.

"I owe you, little mouse," Raphael continued in that rich baritone that brought back memories of the coffee shop. "I owe you your unwavering loyalty. Your commitment. Your trust."

Raphael paused for dramatic effect before adding: "I appreciate those who deal fairly with me, because I have only dealt fairly with you."

His words eerily echoed a recent essay you'd written; it brought a smile to your face as you reached out to touch him.

cross_my_heart: are you touching your screen? cross_my_heart: jeez man cross_my_heart has left the chat

Your Tav, a drow warlock (whom you imagined as Raphael's personal warlock), was wearing her most "why-am-I-here" expression, arms crossed over her chest. It drove you mad, that standard #2 emotion.

Then they ate; clunky, clearly afterthought animations rehashed from Karlach's date dinner. The food they were served (meat, meat, lots of meat) made your stomachs ache (you had been on a crash diet in the irrational hope of slimming down for the rendezvous).

"You were the one who gave me the Crown of Karsus. You gave me the power to claim worlds, my little mouse, even your own." He paused before adding, "You hung on my every word, spread my vision... Every time we played, you offered the crown. My most loyal little acolyte".

A thrill of anticipation ran through you; he must be deviating from his usual script. He was now speaking directly to you.

luxaeterna: haha cool meta stuff luxaeterna: the game is probably checking to see if you have any save games where you killed him luxaeterna: and judging by the way you just stroked the screen (lol) you don't

"Come, my little mouse," Raphael beckoned. "Come and claim your reward. What is it that your heart desires?"

Your eyes scanned the four options presented to you:

1. Wealth beyond measure.

2. Godlike power.

3. Eternal youth.

4. You, Raphael.

"Well," you said aloud with a smile as your cursor hovered over option 4 (the only logical choice), "I'm not sure about immeasurable wealth, but an extra grand wouldn't hurt.”

You wouldn't know what to do with godlike power anyway, and you were too young to dream of eternal youth.

A message appeared in the right-hand corner of your screen: GUESTUSER43214 donated €1,000.

You gasped.

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.

He was here. Raphael was watching you play with Raphael, which was the most Raphael thing that ever happened.

And he'd just given you a damn grand for nothing, with a simple click of his fingers - virtual numbers to him, but very real to you.

You licked your lips with excitement. Easy money. The easiest money ever, for a joke and a smile. Tax free too. Is that how the girls at OnlyFans feel?

papa johnes: holy fuck why didn't you ask for a million papa johnes: reload and ask for a million! DEVIL CREAMPIE: WOW WOW WOW luxaeterna: is this a prank? DEVIL CREAMPIE: SUGAR DADDY DEVIl

Would he give you more if you asked for it? Perhaps. Perhaps more than you could possibly imagine, enough to make all the worries disappear, but all in due time; that was not what you were craving from him at the moment.

luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 are you Raph are you Raph Raph is it you? luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 I can also stroke the screen for a thousand where do I sign up?

The user did not reply, but Raphael in-game did as soon as you clicked on "You and only you".

He walked up to your Tav and embraced her; tenderly, carefully, his clawed hands tracing the back of her spine. She looked frightened.

Well, she only had so many expressions.

"You've always had a knack for making wise decisions," he purred in her ear. "It's one of your many talents, my dear. And once again you've chosen wisely. Now, how may I indulge you?"

papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION

1. Fulfil my every dark fantasy.

2. Let me put you on a leash and show you what pleasure is, devil.

3. Aren't you only bedding Haarlep?

4. Thanks, I'll pass. Haarlep has told me I’d be well advised to indulge elsewhere.

luxaeterna: Fulfil my every DARK fantasy lol who wrote this stuff a horny intern on her lunch break papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION GODDAMNIT

You briefly contemplated if you wanted Haarlep to join and thought that’s something you would save for later, so you went for the horny intern option.

"I will make all your fantasies come true," Raphael promised, as he stood up from his seat and approached Tav. "The ones you're aware of and those yet to be discovered. But for what comes next, little mouse, I prefer us to be alone. No prying eyes."

The game gave you three options to choose from:

1. Yes, Raphael

2. Yes, Master

3. Yes, of course

luxaeterna: I think there might be an option missing DEVIL CREAMPIE: lol any colour you like as long as it’s black right Raph

You nodded, chose “Yes, Raphael”, and got an immediate response:

Connection to Twitch lost. You clicked around, but the servers seemed to be shut down. Huh, you thought, Raphael can control Twitch servers. He could use it as a tool of mass indoctrination.

A deep sigh slipped from your lips.

It was just the two of you now.

But you wouldn't leave without proof. You pressed escape and positioned your phone camera on the highest shelf, angling it to capture everything that transpired on screen.

Raphael pulled Tav in a kiss the moment you resumed the game, something clearly modelled after Ascended Astarion kiss, with him standing, her seated, looking tiny in comparison to him. His clawed hand grasped her ebony neck and gave it a light squeeze. His expression was perfect - possessive, dark, animalistic, hers was screaming “I am about to shit myself” and completely out of place.

You are a Lolth-Sworn and a Bhaalspawn, Tav! What the bloody hell are you scared about? He should be scared of you!

"You taste ambrosial, my little mouse," Raphael whispered into Tav's ear. "I've lived thousands of years and never tasted anything better."

She doesn’t, you thought bitterly, she tastes like nothing but code, but I do, I do!

Your hand traced up your neck mimicking Raphael's touch on Tav's skin and squeezed lightly. The pain made you aware of the bitter resentment against your own avatar - Raphael invited her, dined with her, was about to fuck her, not you, and it could be you now, should be you, not some character you cooked in an hour in the character creator.

She didn’t do shit but follow your orders. It was you who ordered her to give him the Crown.

Next, Raphael shoved the dishes and the cutlery to the floor and gently laid Tav onto the dining table, positioning himself between her thighs. At first glance, it looked like they'd used Halsin's animation from a different angle until you saw his forked tongue glide across Tav's pixel-perfect hairless pussy, sliding in and out of her.

She did one of those high-pitched, perfectly fake screams that made your blood boil and that was exactly the reason you never watched mainstream porn.

The very next gameplay your Tav is jumping off a very high cliff.

Tav threw her head back and moaned, the hair that should have fallen down remaining perfectly in place in her braid. It made it look fake the way video game sex sequences look fake, plastic dolls smashed against each other. Every woman in Faerun and Earth would grab his horns and hold on tight, but no, Tav was not animated to do so.

At least Raphael looked real, every second more so, so you focused on him, and his eyes, and his face glistening in candlelight and Tav’s juices.

There was no way Larian would make it so explicit, a thought that floated in the back of your mind. Can’t be right. The moans, the animations, the visceral, explicit arousal - his and hers. Can’t be right.

No way you’d be stopping to cross-check, either.

So, you watched Tav writhing under the devil's tongue, slipping your hand under your t-shirt, pulling aside the black lacy bra you'd recently bought for him and caressing your hardening nipples.

You couldn't help yourself.

You wanted him, his lips on your pussy, your hands around his horns, you wanted to come onto his mouth, to grind around his cock like a fish caught on a hook.

But all you could do was stare, the pulsing of your clit in perfect rhythm with your heartbeats.

Raphael was looking at you, at you specifically, just like in the cafe. He grabbed one of Tav's legs by the ankle and lifted it high into the air as she arched her back in pleasure. The other leg was slightly spread, offering a view of your avatar's glistening pussy, which you couldn't care less about, unlike the ribbed, red, engorged cock between Raphael's legs, impressive enough to both arouse and frighten.

He must taste so good. The very thought made your mouth water.

You shoved your fingers under your jeans, feeling the zipper scrape against them till it hurt, but you couldn't care less.

Fuck her, you muttered aloud as you rubbed yourself. Or better still, call me and fuck me.

As if he could hear you (he could he could he definitely could), Raphael hoisted Tav’s ankles onto his shoulders and rammed into her with the force that would have been painful in reality but looked mesmerising on the screen.

Hard, sure thrusts, sliding in and out, looking at you all that time, his mouth tightening in a sardonic smile. The promise in his eyes. The promise of all he could give and the promise of a hell of a price to pay. Despite all your fear for him, and because of it, you wanted him even more.

Tav screamed her cry again, exactly the same vocal line, her symmetrical, round, cookie-cutter breasts bouncing to the rhythm dictated by Raphael.

It’s me next time, you pleaded. Make it me. I deserve it. I’ll make it worth your while. Please.

Raphael moaned, loudly, like no man you've ever been with moaned - no man you've ever been with could pull off a moan like that - wild, lustful, deep, shameless. You have to talk like him to pull that off. You have to look like him.

You have to be that silver-tongued devil.

"You are mine. I owe you, my precious little mouse" Raphael said to Tav, hovering over her, folding her in two (would you be that flexible?). "Be my good girl and say it."

This is exactly the kind of talk you wanted from him, exactly the kind of talk that made your pussy throb, that made you click on everything with 'maledom' in it in a split second. Such a shame you could see so little, had to imagine so much, their parts were barely visible in this position.

"I am yours," you whispered breathlessly, pinching your nipple as you plunged your fingers deep inside you. "I am your good girl. I am your little mouse. I am!”

Tav said nothing and Raphael raised his hand over her face. Slap her, you urged, hurt her, slap her hard, but he didn't, instead running his fingers through her snow-white hair and you moaned in frustration and pleasure.

This man brings out the worst in you.

Your pussy clenched around your fingers, a little moan escaped your lips and you bored into them, pretending it was his cock ramming into you. You would get the Devil's Dick from under the bed if you could just tear yourself away from the screen for a moment.

You were right on the edge, so close, closer. Your eyes were fixed on Raphael's face, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of his cock as he thrust one final time before the screen slowly faded to black.

"NO!" you screamed in frustration. "COME BACK! I'M NOT DONE YET!"

The scene changed to both of them lying on a crimson bed. You closed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth.

Of course, you could have used your imagination to fill in the rest, but you were tired of pretending. You craved the real thing - flesh against flesh, hot breath, his scent, beads of sweat, and taste of saliva, his saliva. Not just porn or smut or audio recordings – the actual physical experience. Sex that you had never had because all you knew was awkward fumbling and elbows tangling in your hair and ‘ugh do you really want me to talk dirty this is so weird’.

You would do anything to fuck him now. Bring me that damn contract, I'll sell my soul for a good fuck. Give me the fucking paper, Raphael, give it to me now.

You reluctantly pulled your sticky fingers away from your aching pussy and cursed under your breath. How many times did Raphael ruin the mood already? Cruel, sadistic, cold-hearted fiend, damned hellish beast.

You wanted a different kind of torment.

"Raphael, you better call me," you growled at the screen. "Or I swear I'll come to your house, snatch your hammer, end you and..."

Your threat was cut off by a ring of the doorbell.

"Metaphorically speaking," you hastily added as the doorbell chimed again, more insistently this time.

The memory of blood blisters on guy's lips for lesser offences was still fresh in your mind.

"You promised you'd knock on my door, not ring," you muttered to yourself, feeling a tinge of fear run through your body. "And again... metaphorically speaking!"

The doorbell rang once more, louder and angrier than before. You wiped your slick fingers on a napkin and quickly adjusted your clothing before cautiously approaching the door.

A quick glance through the peephole revealed something red outside. But you didn't dare take a second look.

Your palm found its way to the cool metal of the doorknob. This was it, wasn't it? The moment where a stupid girl opens the wrong door at the wrong time and gets clawed to death.

Behind the door stood a teenage boy, around fourteen or fifteen years old, with acne and an ill-fitted t-shirt, casually chewing gum. He looked at you as if you were the one disturbing his peace all along.

"Why the hell were you buzzing my door like a maniac?" you asked.

He thrust a bouquet of red roses towards you without much ceremony. It was heavier than you thought.

"I have a special delivery for you, ma'am" he announced.

"Why did you buzz my door like that?" you asked again, irritated.

"I get an extra hundred if I deliver these today. I was pissed that you weren't home," he replied with casual indifference.

"You can't just do that to people, you little shit," you shot back.

"Whatever, sue me, bitch," he retorted before walking away with a shrug and one last jab: "And zip up your fly."

You flipped him off, your fly still splayed open. It was funny how not too long ago, such a comment would have mortified and flustered you.

But now, being a bit (okay, a lot) crazy has its perks.

The bouquet he gave you was exactly the type that you used to mock in high school when the popular girls would flaunt their dozens of roses on social media. Over-the-top, showy, just plain vulgar in its excessiveness. How many were there? A hundred? At least.

You absolutely loved it.

You loved the note attached even more.

"Apologies for my silence. Had urgent matters to attend to. I promise to make amends and cannot wait to see you again -R."

Oh, and a box of Ladurée macarons which you never tried but you couldn't take your eyes off of them through the window of the shop!

As if on cue, an incoming call lit up your phone screen. No Caller ID. You clutched the bouquet tighter and hurriedly answered.

“Thank you so much”, you said, momentarily hating the simpering, saccharine voice you adopted. “What a coincidence, just received your flowers”.

"It's hardly a coincidence," Raphael replied calmly. "They sent me an email notification."

You let out a small laugh at the mention of the "e-mail". It seemed like Raphael was still playing the “no, no, it’s not me Raphael the cambion, I just look like him” game. Whatever the hell for?

"You've had my home address this whole time, haven't you, Raphael?" you asked. "Why did you ask then?"

There was a moment of tense silence on the other end of the line, and you could sense Raphael's anger without even seeing him.

One wrong sentence and everything could shift between the two of you in a split second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded with firmness in his tone:

"It’s one thing you didn’t ask for my name - which I found impolite, but I can forgive a beautiful woman many things. Calling me another man’s name? That's something I will not tolerate."

You blinked in confusion as you read the note in your hand: "I cannot wait to see you again. -R".

"I'm sorry," you stammered, "Your note..."

He laughed. Soft, charming laugh of a rich and successful man perfectly content with his life.

"Raul, at your service. Raul d'Avergni, if you're interested in doing some research in your free time."

"Raul?", you asked. It was not an ugly name, but it was foreign, mundane and not diabolical enough for your taste. It made you think of a Spanish soap opera, not of Avernus.

"That's right," he replied calmly. "Italian, in case you were wondering. From west of Pozzuoli. Not exactly a place you would be familiar with."

You couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the comment, even though you indeed had no clue where Pozzuoli was.

"Oh," you replied. "I hadn't noticed an accent."

"I would hope not, considering how much my father spent sending me to Eton," Raphael (you won’t call him otherwise, no) joked, although his voice tensed up at the mention of his father.

Great, now Mephistopheles is here too? Did you accidentally invite all of Hells?

"I will be there by eight to collect you," he said very matter—of—factly.

You checked your Apple Watch and saw that it was only an hour away.

"Tonight?" you inquired.

"Do you have any other arrangements?"

No, of course not. I've been waiting for your call this whole time, you wanted to make a joke before you realised it was no joke and therefore not really funny.

"No... none," you admitted. "Where are we headed tonight? Should I dress up?"

Or it wouldn’t matter because I would end up in a garbage bag and a “missing” poster?

You could hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"You definitely should dress up," he said, his tone flirtatious again. "We are heading somewhere special. It might be a little unconventional for common taste, but I assure you, you'll love it. See you very soon."

He hung up before you could ask for more details on what kind of unconventional thing he had in mind. As you tried to calculate your chances of survival for this unconventional event and what exactly was considered unconventional by infernal standards, the odds seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

Would they even find your body?

It suddenly struck you that 'Raul' never bothered to explain how he knew where you lived, and you still didn't have his phone number to call him back. This realisation prompted you to do something you hadn't done since childhood: call your mum twice in one day.

The only person you could trust to hunt down a devil.

"Mum? I have plans tonight. I'm going out with a man named Raul de… de… oh, God, Avergni or something. Yes, write down his name and look him up on Google. If I don't call you until tomorrow..."

"What do you mean by tomorrow?" your mother interrupted sharply. "Are you planning on spending the night with him?"

You were hoping to spend the night with him!

"I'm twenty-seven, Mum."

“Anya, you know better than to sleep with a man on the first date. Men are hunters, and if you give in too easily, they will lose interest. Trust me, I've been through it all before…”

You clench your jaw as she continues to lecture you on how to catch, tame, and keep a man.

"Mum?" you interject.

"Yes?"

"Did it work with my father?”

Your mother let out an exasperated sigh and switched to her "I have the worst daughter in the world" voice.

"I hope you have a nice evening, but please remember to call me when you get home TONIGHT."

As you showered, dressed, moisturised your face and hands and tried to style your hair, you couldn't help but think of Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic. After all, she looked good dead, so you should too.

The marks of your own fingertips were still visible on your neck. You quickly covered them with concealer and briefly recalled a distant memory of cutting yourself as a teenager.

Why had you cut yourself? The reason was foggy in your mind, as was the pain, but you remembered the bitterness and loneliness. You didn't want to die, but you wanted something else - something you didn't have, or someone who could give it to you.

Being suicidal must be a package deal with being crazy.

Your phone buzzed. The thing with your mother, she gets distracted too easily to remain offended for long. And you provided her with excellent food for distraction.

is he the managing partner of the law firm?

oh my god

ANYA, THE KING OF PENTACLES.

they write “not married” on the website, god bless

he must have so much money, Anya, so much money.

so handsome

no offence love but how on earth did you manage it

(ah that’s why you were cutting yourself)

we can live with him being Italian, I think.

at least he is Catholic.

please wear black, it suits your figure.

remember POSITIVE thinking.

(Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic)

send me a picture when you are ready. OK? love

wear a cross too

A cross? You let out a laugh. Unlike your mother, you were consistent in your beliefs. Catholic school was the perfect environment for raising atheists. Ever since you were a teenager, you had been against that rotten, bloody institution, full of pedos, crooks and who knows what else.

If this was God's team, then you proudly allied yourself with the devil.

As you ranted internally against the church, you suddenly remembered that you now had some freshly made solo porn on your phone that needed to be deleted immediately.

Not before you give it a little watch.

You wish you hadn't, you thought as it started to play. A high-quality video of you choking in front of a black screen, your hands clutching your throat with a fervour you didn't even know you possessed. A reflection of your face on the laptop: possessed, sickly, rapt. Moans escaping your lips as you pant, hands roaming all over your body, little tremors of excitement... at nothing.

A black screen.

You immediately deleted the video from your phone. If it proved anything, it was that you were gone. Far gone. Off the deep end. The way you moaned, salivating at the mouth, Christ almighty (Christ had nothing to do with it)...

Knock-knock.

Well, that was Raphael. You could tell by the simple knock. It was soft and polite, modest yet assertive; but he wouldn't wait long for you to open the door, so you had to be quick.

Knock-knock.

Your gaze drifted to the ornate golden cross, the crucifix in the centre; suffering, redemption, salvation, deliverance from evil and all the shit you did not believe in.

In fact, you didn't believe in devils either.

Besides, a cross won't help against the devils of Baator.

Then again, it wouldn't hurt.

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanfic #meta fanfic #raphael x you #raphael x reader #raphael x player #raphael x tav #knock knock #raphael the cambion

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