#I could do this five times and still not fully flesh out my taste

[asmodeusstahl]

A - Awake by Tycho S - Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON M - Mama Said by Lukas Graham O - Oogie Boogie's Song by VoicePlay D - Dangerous by Set It Off E - Enemy by Imagine Dragons U - Upside Down by Jack Johnson S - Some Nights by fun. S - Separate Ways by Journey T - Things We Lost in the Fire by Bastille A - Amish Paradise by "Weird Al" Yankovic H - Hey Brother by Avicii L - Light of the Seven by Ramin Djawadi

tag game: make a playlist using each letter of your url

tagged by: @oh2e

B - Bad Blood by Bastille

E - Evil Eye by Franz Ferdinand

N - New Sun by Kill Bill: the Rapper

I - I Love You, I'm Trying by grandson

D - Dandelions by Rav

R - Re-Hash by Gorillaz

Y - y 13 by Cavetown

L - Love From the Other Side by Fall Out Boy

uhhh go for it anyone ig, but i'll tag a few ppl as well @professorrivertam @because-i-love-chess @1dkreally @slorgan @moyurukoda

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ CHERRY FLAVOURED ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: when you and ellie started your situationship, you had one single request; a bag of cherries every time she showed up at your doorstep. unfortunately, you want more than that.

warnings: 18+, smut, angst at the end if you squint, mentions of weed, weed consumption, cunnilingus, kinda sorta dealer!ellie ( not all that relevent to the plot ), ellie's kind of a dick, womanzier!ellie, not proof-read

a/n: a repost because i deleted my old account on a whim ;)

The tips of your fingers were coated in crimson.

 Red and sticky.

 Warm wetness trickling down your palms' creases, spreading sugary stained streaks onto the heat of your velvet skin; something you grew indifferent to. It was always so messy — the plump fruit surrounded by the shelter of your mouth, sweet and addicting every single time. Even with a bad full, they were something you’d savor with every inch of your being, as they were too small to enjoy fully. There would be at least five seconds of flavor before you were left with a bitter taste on the surface of your tongue, a wine-red tint coating the lingual papillae to give you something to remember them by. 

Your constant craving was satiated, alongside the need to see the person that brought them for you every Wednesday without fail. Three sharp knocks on the scuffed steel of your front door were the beginning of five months entwined in your sheets, sinking into the comfort of your mattress. The scent of cherry blossom and freshly washed linen stuck to you as if to taunt you whenever she’d leave in the middle of the night, love bites littered across the expanse of your chest, reaching the insides of your soul.

Just like those fucking cherries you were addicted to — you were addicted to her. 

Ellie. 

The girl stood at a measly five foot three. Kissed from head to toe with freckles that dotted her gentle skin in a multitude of clusters, eyes as green as the moss that’d grow in the crevices of your roof, and a seemingly unbearable attitude to those she rendered unworthy of her time and presence. You, unlike other people, got to experience two of those things from her simultaneously in the form of discarded clothes and rushed greedy touches.

The unwavering connection between you two was there from the moment she laid her irises on you in that hazy, smoke-filled basement last October at Ollie’s. A fat joint laced with bad intentions between the pink, plump flesh of her lips as she weighed the two options that arose. Either she could approach you, ask you for your name, and smooth talk her way into your heart till the pads of her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear — or  — she could keep still on that withering couch she sat on and smoke her head off.

And it was such an easy choice for her, that she mentally hit herself for even thinking of the latter. 

That one, singular encounter changed the trajectory of her life, as dramatic as it sounded. The reason for that one was fairly simple. 

You tasted too fucking good.

That was the only reason she found herself here. Her head between the fat of your thighs, warm breath hitting your cunt just like the many times before this one, hands squeezing the outside of your skin so hard you were sure they’d be marked for the next few hours. 

“Ellie, c’mon.” You hissed through clenched teeth, jaw grinding in annoyance at the lack of attention you were receiving. She was right there. So fucking close to your core that all she had to do was dart her tongue out and the arousal that coated your slick would pour onto her tastebuds. 

“You keep talking and I swear I’ll fucking leave.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at you, watching as you clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth. 

Curling your lips into a frown, your elbows dug into the springs as you propped yourself up. “You wouldn’t.”

She rose an eyebrow, the skin of her forehead creasing slightly before she tightened her grip on your thighs, a twinge of interest sparkling in those dark eyes. “But I would.” 

As she lazily drawled out those three words, her right hand snaked its way to your core. Her index finger slid through your folds with ease, a slight buck of your hips stopping them from moving any further. 

You were soaked. It was as obvious as her favoritism toward you. Not just as one of her clients, but as the girl she occasionally fucked with no strings attached from time to time. 

From the low lighting of the lamp on the corner of your nightstand, your slick glistened in the sliver of light that shone behind her head when she lowered it even further. 

“You’re so fucking wet f’me, princess.” 

The guttural whine that left your throat was animalistic. Something that sneakily blended in with the blood in your veins and tainted every healthy cell in your body, starting from the very back of your brain to the tips of your curling toes.

With your hands grasping the light green and pink polka dot sheets that decorated your bed, you took a sudden interest in drawing invisible patterns on the ceiling in your head, shuddering when the muscle of her tongue finally made contact with your clit.

“Oh — fuck!”

Giving you no chance to recover, she continued, flicking her tongue so harshly, that you were positive she’d have lockjaw by the end of the session. 

“Always letting me fuck you so good.” She murmured against you, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, taking every last drop of your wetness into her mouth as if she was being deprived of water. 

Wednesday’s were your favorite day of the week thanks to her. It was as if she were an excessive amount of caffeine you desperately wanted as soon as your heavy lids opened. Except, she wasn’t black coffee, albeit the bitterness rooted deep within her. She was the bag of cherries that sat in your refrigerator, rationed throughout the week as a means to keep them longer. 

At first, you thought of it as foolish to share yourself so intimately with someone you barely knew. To poke a finger into your chest and claw the flesh apart with your bare hands, bearing your entire soul. 

She still didn’t know your favorite color. She still didn’t know your favorite book. Hell, she still didn’t even know if you preferred smoking joints or blunts. 

But, what she did know was how to touch you. And that  — that was just fine.

“Oh my god, right there.” You chanted in a hushed whisper, over and over until her hot hands had traveled from your thighs to your hipbones. Thumbs gently tracing circles over the skin there as she devoured you as if she were starved, nose nudging the top of your pussy. 

It was only then that your phone vibrated atop the wood of your nightstand, shaking so violently, that it had shuffled a couple of inches. 

“Ignore it.” 

Ellie's gruff voice came from under you, lips detaching from your cunt to speak, the flesh there glistening with your juices before she dove in once more. 

The buzz that sounded in your ears had dissipated. A small beat of silence took over before it began again. 

With a sigh, you shuffled onto your elbows again, outstretching an arm to grab the device with straight fingers, unsuccessful in your attempt. 

“What if I — shit,” The ridges of her teeth skimmed over your clit, causing your hips to buck into her face involuntarily. Your throat was dry from the deep inhales and exhales during this sexual encounter and she had only just started. 

“What if it’s important?” The question came out of your lips in a breathy sigh, head growing hazy at her touch. 

She hummed, “It can wait.” 

It couldn’t because the moment those words were out in the air, it buzzed again. 

“The fuck…” 

Lifting herself from her position clad in nothing but boy shorts and a thin wife beater, Ellie crawled over you, her weight emitting a groan from the creaks in the springs within the mattress as she pressed her clothed chest flush against yours. 

Without warning, her fingers flexed, snatching your phone from its spot before you the lids of your eyes could open back up again. You watched curiously as her mossy green eyes scanned the text on the screen, rolling them after as she pursed her lips into a thin line. 

“Why’s Ollie calling you?” The question held a small hint of suspicion, and that was something you heard clearly despite her effort to hide it.

You were just fuck buddies. Nothing more than that. So why did your heart jump within your chest as if it were going to escape your body at any second?

Shaking your head from side to side, you tilted your chin at her, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “I dunno…” 

“I’m gonna call back.” She stated, making her way to your contacts and scrolling through the alphabetical format, pressing on his name with a thumb. 

Outstretching your arms, you huffed, exhaling dramatically as you gently shoved her off of you. Sitting up, you leaned against the bedframe, knees tucked close to your bare chest, goosebumps forming at the sudden cold rush of air that weaved its way around your frame. 

The low hum became louder as Ellie held out your phone between the both of you, tight grip never faltering as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. She was staring at it harshly, her gaze practically burning holes into the device as it rang once, then twice before a ‘finally’ sounded in your ears.

“Fucking finally, where the fuck is Ellie?”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Well hello to you too Ollie.” 

“Yeah, yeah, hey. Where’s Ellie?” 

“What makes you think I'm with her?”

“Because her location is pinpointed to your house. Am I on speaker?” 

Licking your lips as a means to moisturize them, you cocked your neck to the side, raising a brow at Ellie who sighed. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

Crackling static could be heard on the other end of the line, followed by shuffling and a female voice that sounded all too familiar to you. 

“Uh, I kinda need to buy off of you again.” 

Ellie looked around your room for a while, taking in the different array of patterns that decorated each article of furniture that gave away a whole lot more than your personality. For a second, Ollie’s talking seemed to grow muffled, as she marked every place in that small space that she fucked you on. 

It was something that had etched itself in the inner corners of her mind as she struggled to come to terms with what exactly she felt every time she got down on her knees. For you. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Sometimes, she’d lay awake at night, curled up under the sheets, wearing exactly what she is right now  — sitting here with you. Being intimate  — with you. Sure, she sold her weed and made her money, accompanied by a stone-faced facade, but handing drugs to girls who’d let their hands linger a little too long on her skin, always sent her back to you at the end of the night with a plastic Tupperware container filled halfway with those cherries only sold downtown.

Clearing the rising lump in her throat, the auburn-haired girl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth soon after. “Sure. Do you need me right now?”

Ollie laughed humorously as if Ellie had said one of the funniest things in the world, and you had assumed it directly wasn’t aimed toward her due to the high-pitched yell. “If that’s cool with you.”

Observing as Ellie lifted herself from her position next to you, your eyes followed as she leaned down at the end of the bed to tug on the jeans she had previously discarded in the heated haze of your earlier makeout session. 

Tossing the phone on the bed, Ellie focused her attention on buttoning her jeans, the worn band tee she showed up in following immediately after. 

“C’mon.” 

A puzzled look painted your features, the corners of your eyes creasing as you narrowed your eyes at her figure near the door. 

“I’m not going to Ollie’s alone. His girlfriend’s weird.”

You grimaced. 

“Are you seriously dragging me with you?”

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

Ollie’s girlfriend, Penelope, wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he made her seem. It was something that should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning due to how highly he talked about her, albeit being dramatic at the same time. But since he was sort of a friend, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The first time you met her, the brunette immediately started talking your ear off about how the color of your shirt wasn’t really appealing to the eyes, index finger twirling a strand of her hair as she tried to make up for the comment with back-handed compliments. 

She was something… and that was to put it in the nicest way you could, cementing it into your brain that she just didn’t like you.

Internally, you were cursing Ollie out. Externally, you held it together better than you thought you would as she ranted to you about one of her many friends with a lit joint in hand, waving it back and forth. 

You were sat directly across from her, muscles tense and spine rigid on an ottoman, one leg crossed over the other, lips pulled back into a small snarl that she hadn’t noticed. The cool outside air did little to relax your body as the unease that overtook you moments ago, seemed to spread quicker than you thought it would.

“ — I told her that she shorted me like twelve dollars. I mean I was valid in that, right? The tag was missing off the skirt.” Extending her arm out to you, she wiggled the blunt between two fingers for you to take, which you did a little too enthusiastically.

Putting it between your lips, you inhaled, closing your eyes for a second as the smoke wafted into your line of vision. Nodding, you decided to play along with her, not in the mood to piss her off just yet. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t wanna pay the full price either.”

Peeling your gaze away from Penelope, you watched as the smoke you exhaled swirled in different directions, lifting into the multi-colored sky. You needed this.

“I knew I liked you. But, you don’t have to lie to me y’know, I was just fucking with you about the skirt thing. I would never buy a skirt without a tag.” 

Feeling warmth rise under the flesh that covered the apples of your cheeks, you shook your leg, scanning the patio deck for any sign of Ellie who had disappeared inside the house with Ollie for what seemed like too long. 

Penelope leaned back in her seat, cautiously letting her brown eyes roam down your stiff body, narrowing them after. “So, like are you and Ellie a thing?” 

Taking another drag, you held it out for her to take, eying her from your peripheral inconspicuously the moment she took her eyes off of you. “No.” 

The answer that was processed in her mind was short, and in response, she clicked her tongue on the roof of her smoke-filled mouth. She was unsatisfied with your answer. “You gotta give me more than that.” 

Her voice went an octave lower as she leaned toward you, ready for you to spill all of your darkest secrets to her. “There’s nothing else to give.” You spat, eliciting a hum from her. 

“I don’t think that’s it. Ollie tells me that you two just fuck.”

Furrowing your brows, you let genuine confusion write itself on your features as you crossed your arms, curling into yourself the more she spoke. 

It was then that she sighed, taking another hit before extending it out to you. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say it like that… it’s just the way she talks about you is just…”

A twinge of curiosity sparked within you as she searched the jumbling words in her brain, sorting them in a way to soften the upcoming blow. “... it rubs me the wrong way like you’re just there to convenience her or some shit.”

“What?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and hairs on your arms raised, creating an itch all over that you wanted to scratch more than anything.

“Listen, I know you don’t think I don’t like you.”

“I-”

“You deserve something better than just sneaking around with someone like her. Her history with other women is fucked up, girl. Be careful.” 

With that, she directed her attention toward the patio door, watching as it slid open. 

Someone like her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Those words were all that hit you when Ellie rubbed your left shoulder, telling you that it was time to go. They consumed you when you had buckled yourself up in the passenger seat of her car. They ate you when the tears in your eyes started to burn as you leaned your forehead against the window. 

The drive was a little too quiet, and Ellie had been slyly giving you little looks throughout the trip, internally arguing with herself to ask about your sudden change of mood. 

“What’s w —”

“Am I just someone you like to fuck every week?” 

The question had caught her so off guard that her foot had nearly lifted off the gas and slammed on the break as she swerved slightly. Twisting her neck in your direction, she let her eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Closing your eyes, you swiped at a fallen tear swiftly with the back of your hand, wiping it on the denim of your jeans after. “Now that I actually fucking think about it, we don’t do anything other than screw each other.” 

It was something you had meant to say to yourself, rather than aloud, but on the quietness of the car — even under the low hum of the music playing from the car radio, she heard every single word.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept your head forward, noting the street you were on when she had turned into a familiar neighborhood about three minutes away from your destination.

“I’m just saying.”

Ellie scoffed, not believing a single word that bitterly came out of your mouth. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes as far back as they could go as she pulled into your driveway. “What’d she say to you.”

Fuck. 

“She didn’t say anything.” You insisted, moving to tug the door handle open. Right before you could, she pressed down on the lock button, trapping you inside the car with her. 

“I know she said something to you. You were all smiley when we got there, now you’re crying.” Pressing the matter even further, she twisted her body as much as the driver's side allowed, giving you all her undivided attention. 

Still refusing to look at her, you breathed in through your nose. “Ellie, I want you to be serious with me for a minute, please. All we do is hook up with each other. That’s not something that I find myself needing anymore now that I'm actually putting my brain to use.”

Your eyes darted across her face, watching when her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose — something she did while irritated. You wanted her to be truthful, and it was something she had a slight problem with as she sat there, a knot of unease developing within her empty stomach so tightly, that her body grew numb. “You’re making it more complicated than it has to be. I thought we made shit clear from the beginning that this was all it ever was gonna be.”

You scoffed, grinding your teeth together as the pressure behind your eyes burned once more. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a fucking word.

From the minute she approached you with that fucking toothy grin on her lips — you shouldn’t have said a word because look at you now. 

Crying for someone who clearly doesn’t want you back.

“I just took it too far.”

[wrenwrongs]

Songbird

Petyr Baelish/Reader

Summary: Someone annoys Petyr who takes it out on the reader.

Word Count: 881

cw: smut, afab reader, praise, degradation, age gap, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, spitting in mouth, allusion to blowjobs, I am very new to writing smut

Petyr was aware the bundle of Myrish lace shoved into your mouth would do little to muffle any noise. It was good then that you had long since learned to keep quiet. Uncontained, however, was the sound of flesh on flesh as his hand swung down on your arse. You knew exactly what was to come when the servant informed you that your betrothed requested your presence in his office. In the moments before he grabbed your arms and kissed you roughly, you had wondered who had incensed him so. It was rare that he could not wait until the evening to sneak you into his quarters and release his frustration there.

It was still a moon until the wedding, and as such you could not fully sate your desire for each other. Petyr was more than happy to teach you other forms of pleasure. Your favorite lessons so far involved his long, slender fingers and silver tongue; his own had you bent over his lap, much like you were now, skirts pulled up around your waist and small clothes down around your knees. Any concerns you had about marrying a brothel owner where erased when you discovered why said brothels where considered the best in all of Westeros.

On occasion, if you had intentionally done something to vex him, he would make you count the strikes. This time he simply spanked you. His other implements were hidden away in his chambers, so he made do with his flat palm; the cool metal of his rings adding to the sting.

Finally, he paused to rub your rosy bottom, “Such a good little songbird.” You mewled at his praise. Keening as his hand traveled lower and his fingers brushed against your exposed pussy. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he trailed his finger up your slit. “Does this excite you, pet?” he pulled his hand away. Marveling at the string of fluids that connected them. You could only nod as he placed his fingers onto his tongue and tasted you. Savoring you.

Without warning, his hand came down again, right on your swollen cunt, ripping a squeal from your throat. Tears gathered in your eyes as you bit down harder on the gag. “I cannot wait until I can claim you as mine.” Another.

“Fill you with my seed and let everyone know who you belong to.” Three. Four. Five.

“I want the men standing outside the door during the bedding ceremony to hear just how well I treat you,” He stopped to brush his thumb against your swollen clit, "How you sing for me." his fingers dragged along your puffy folds before he inserted two fingers. The wet noises competed with your own squeals to be the most wanton noise in the room.

“Anyone could walk through that door and see how you’re dripping like a whore just from being spanked,” His fingers curled inside of you. It never took him long to find that spot that made your vision turn white, and when he did he made sure to abuse it.

He pulled the lace from your mouth, “Beg.”

“Please, My Lord. I want it, I want everyone to know what you do to me. I would let you take me for all the realm to see. Please!" you cried. His free hand brushed the tears from your cheeks. He loved to see how long he could keep you on the edge of ecstasy. It was unfortunate that he had another meeting that day. “Lord Baelish, please. I— Ah!”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles. A moan, loud enough to be heard from the halls, escaped you. He relishes in the feeling of your walls fluttering around his fingers., imagining what it would be like on his cock. As your high receded, he sat you up straight and readjusted your skirts before pulling you to sit in his lap. A soft sigh left your lips as he brushed your hair from your face.

You knew he was smirking. He always took the most pleasure in your submission. How it came so easily for him, and only him.

You remembered the first time you met, his sycophantic smile made your skin crawl. He, like most men vying for your hand, had his eyes set firmly on the handsome dowry your father would provide. Yet Baelish offered something different, an agreement. Once it became apparent that you were not fooled by his wheedling, he made an offer: his land for your dowry and his heir for your freedom. Should you provide him with an heir and the wealth he lacked, you would live at Baelish Keep while he remained in Kings Landing. Forsaking the fantasy of the Tyrell's offering a marriage to Willas, a better opportunity would not present itself.

Neither of you had expected the fondness that crept in.

His firm hand tilted your head back. He brushed his thumb along your lips before parting them and spitting in your mouth. You whimpered at the display, ears still ringing. It was the strongest orgasm he had given you so far. It was a promise of what was to come.

‘The moon can not turn fast enough.’ you thought as you sunk to your knees before him.

[aces-to-apples]

Fic Self-Recs

Fic authors self rec! List your favorite five fics that you've written, then tag at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Tagged by @dead-cowboy!

It's crazy just how many of these bastards I have published under my own names and yet wouldn't recommend someone read with a gun to my head lol. Also I went with six so I could include one from my SourFacedLemon account:

i. hold it in your mouth for a minute (real hunger has a real taste) (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Glitch/Savage Opress, Explicit)

From the inaugural year of Smut Wars, this actually holds up pretty decently. Takes place vaguely within the Season 5 Crime Lords arc because that must have taken months to accomplish and the visual of Savage and Maul desperately trying to get along with Death Watch for that long amuses me. Included some thoughts about Nightbrothers and clones that I don't usually get to explore since Maul isn't, you know, culturally a Nightbrother. Also I reject the cultural obsession with dick size, I hate it, Savage is the embodiment of "small, leave me alone" and I'll die on that hill. Also also, Glitch is here! He's sweet! He's Force-sensitive! The narrative is in love with him and wants him to live and thrive! It's me, I'm the narrative!

ii. self/less (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulsoka, Teen)

Older, and imperfect, but I had a good time with it. This fic has everything: the unhinged Maul-Ahsoka team-up that a Star Wars What If series should explore, Maul being traumatized and terrified and not hiding it well, genderfuckery, two forms of mind-control, the Son and the Daughter escaping Mortis because what do you mean they're just dead now??, Jesse surviving... Short and sweet and well beyond my writing skills to fully flesh out, but I genuinely think there's a decent premise buried in there.

iii. a beast within you (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulrex, Explicit)

Also notably imperfect, but another 2023 Smut Wars gift and I spent so much time trying to research octopi and tentacles without actually consuming any tentacle porn, and I want that effort acknowledged. It's a vague Percy Jackson fusion AU, if that's any more enticing. And if you get to the end there's links to some beautiful fucking fanart someone (@omaano) made of it!

iv. pretty (handy with that iron) (Jak and Daxter, Jak/Jinx, Teen)

Transmasculine!Jak who not only has terrible taste in men (Jinx) but also has a vaguely-emasculating-pet-names-induced gender crisis during the sewers escort mission and Daxter doesn't get to rest for a single second. Idk I was feeling silly with this one. It was fun to write and I actually don't regret it lol.

v. all restraint and poised bones (Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Maulakin, Teen)

I just love a confused Maul POV in general and also an outsider POV on time travel. It's just so much fun for me personally. Also I know it's because that's the way the timeline shakes out but the fact that Anakin missed meeting Maul and all that that entails by like two hours is as ridiculous to me as the Grievous thing; their unhinged chaotic goblin energies would have bounced off each other and created a feedback loop that would give Sidious a heart attack, so I understand why it never happened. But still.

bonus vi (and vii and viii). The Expansion of Clan Mudhorn (The Mandalorian, Djarin/Leia/Boba, Teen)

I have written non-TCW, non-Maul related Star Wars fics, as difficult as it is to believe. These ones are also silly, and strangely fluffy compared to most of my other content, but it was 2021! Mando S2 had just ended, we had canonical Tem-as-Boba-Fett and were all so excited and optimistic, it was a different time! Honestly my only regret is that I haven't thought until just now to go back and edit them to fix Djarin's name. Everyone is surnaming this poor man who misses his baby so, so much, you guys, that's tragic lmao.

No pressure tagging @hawthornsword @hjbender @darthlivion @mandalorianbrainweasel @inqorporeal and anyone who sees this and wants to play!

[thevoidwriting]

WHATS IN YOUR HEAD, IN YOUR HEAD ZOMBIE ZOMBIE IE IE IE.

New man's alert zombie or Vitali Farkas

Okay, triggers military mess ups (I'm still learning), torture, mentions of scars and mental states not being there and everything that comes with 5 month of torture and losing pieces of yourself, will to proceed on Russian operator Zombie. Some detail not a lot this is a mismesh or discord chat with some filler. @mammaonii hey new mans

Age 37, gender, hermaphrodite, next of kin, a mother and father unnamed, a daughter Lilly Anna Farkas.

Russian Hungarian that came to the states at 13, speaks three languages well.

Zombies current appearance kinda hinges on that, he was a proud Russian Hungarian man, 6'6, bright blue green eyes, black hair, doll man, would be a bear of Russian if he let himself go a bit, friendly outgoing as most Russians are. His parents immigrated from Russia to us when he was 13 and he tried his best to fit in but everyone regards him as rabid and feral, not totally wrong he just couldn't speak English well.

He ended up seeing he could enlist at 16 to the marines with parantal approval. (Yes this is a thing.) So he brought it to his parents since he didn't fight in and he was a good hunter, they let him in and really he thrived in that environment, getting along with his unit and such, becoming a marine medic and the sole braincell for them. During a join mission during (redacted) he got captured and tortured for 5 months, for info and such, his left eye received chemical burns so it's just milky, can't see from my much of at all, lost right cheek so you can see his teeth (he likes to poke his tounge out of it.), nerve damage of course. Mentally not fully there anymore, his unit doesn't recognize the white blond man that was brought back to them, cause he's twice as likely to throw himself into death cause survivors guilt.

Fun things to note, he can drop the accent, he enjoys tang and obsession with furbys. He was tied up and forced to be alone in a dark room till they come to hurt him, with ear plugs and a blind fold to block all but taste and smell, made to eat his own cheek after they cut it off, he screamed so loud he lost his voice but never gave the enemy what they wanted.

days have no meaning as he goee though all this. Coming back from that was hard, he isn't the same. No matter how much therapy he goes though. Even missing a eye and a cheek and covered in scars from his time in their loving care. At some point his captors found out he's was actually a they took advantage of all that and he ended up pregnant with a child, having her safely after he was returned home, took me a bit to let others touch her.

like imagine the pre torture smile of a kid that feels invincible to the broken man that returns him missing pieces mainly seen his milky eye to his missing cheek flesh that never healed right there makes his jaw click.

He wears a surgical mask to his his mouth, no one needs to see that either, just slowly hiding more of and more of himself to fit in. Just to the point he makes a cabin in the woods (90s slasher style.) just to be by himself without the need to hide. "oh yeah Jake, he was a pedo so I ate him. Kids are safe but he was tough to get down. Want a rib?"

He desperately wante to fit in but after all that he can't trust or feel safe around others. So become unassuming and in the background, it's just so he doesn't have to relive that part of his past over and over again.

Five years later he gets discharged honorable of course after all he went though, "I will child leash you to me ankle biter." With a heavy Russian accent then switches to American the second they talk to someone new. "Hi John how's the wife i know I'm moving off base crazy right well my mom wants to see the kid and I think it will do them both good." Voice more male leaning but can be female if they push it.

He binds his chest to keep that male look but sometimes he lets the titties free, having both down there messes with his head. He moves in shortly after pup and ends up liking his neighbors even if their a bit weird, still has cannibalistic tendencies but only to rapists and pedos.

Keeps to himself mostly and rarely lets others in.

All I have so far.

[rust-bearer]

OH DAMN, ANOTHER BRAIN MOMENT!! I’ve clogged your inbox enough as it is so from here on out I’m just gonna try to keep it to like… maybe one ask a week LMAO I know your account isn’t exclusively about zombie au stuff. So last one:

I hate to think like this, but… what would happen if one of our precious survivors did end up getting infected? You probably know where I’m going with this, but ohhh shit First Aid’s caretaker instincts and overall fatal drive to support and protect does not benefit him in the long run! At least, not if you go by the black-and-white thinking. I won’t start a whole philosophical debate, so anyway. Let’s say somewhere down the line he gets infected, because…. It’s First Aid, he’d probably try to help someone who they found on the streets who looks “ill” but is actually a zombie in the making and ends up getting bitten, whoops.

There’s definitely a few ways you could go about this. For one, you could be like OH MY GOD IVE BEEN BITTEN *cue zombie transformation*, or you could be like FUCK I’ve been bitten, try to get as far from the house as possible while this awful disease ravages your system within seconds. Or, secret third option, you could do something like the 2017 zombie movie Cargo.

It’s been a while, but if I remember correctly, it was about this dad surviving an apocalypse who had his kid strapped to his back. Like, the kid was 2ish maybe, one of those tiny humans that can fit in the harness you wear over your shoulder and you’re like a human pack mule and your baggage is a child? I dunno what to call them. ANYWAY, if I remember correctly, the zombie transformation process wasn’t immediate. At least, it wasn’t like “five minutes from now I’ll be hungry for flesh.” It might’ve been like an hours thing, maybe more like a days thing?

A chronological process here with that in mind:

1. Say the person he’s trying to heal isn’t infected-infected, like they’re still coherent. If they bite him then, it would obviously infect HIM, too, but I feel like the process would be slower.

2. With that in mind, you just know First Aid realizes exactly how this is gonna go. He’s gonna be zombified sooner or later, there’s no doubt about that. His biggest concern is probably like “how quickly is this gonna happen?” Does he have enough time to get himself and the survivor he’d tried to help away from the farmhouse? Can he inform the Combaticons, maybe the children? Does he have more time than he expects? What’s the process gonna be like? Where does he even start?

3. Thankfully for him (actually not thankfully it’s even more awful this way LMAO), the infection seems a bit more gradual than instant. It’s probably a two, three day process, and throughout the whole thing he just feels so tired, his body feels sore, he feels so hungry, super hungry. At the same time, regular food cooked by Onslaught which is usually the best thing he’s ever tasted is repulsive, nauseating even.

4. Those things aren’t the worst of it, though. First Aid’s BIGGEST problem is the site of the wound itself, which started out as a small bite-shaped puncture wound but has now spread across his ENTIRE arm, causing the skin to go blue and veins to appear and gosh, he couldn’t stop bleeding at first, but now there just isn’t any blood at all, no clotting, nothing. He’s lucky he can still feel that arm, let alone use it, because he can feel his nerves dying out one by one. It doesn’t actually hurt, which is a little surprising. If anything, it just… I don’t know, it’s just like he’s gradually getting less and less aware that he has two arms, not own.

5. Ironically, despite the danger he puts himself and others in, it does take First Aid some time to open up about what happened. Only hours after the incident does the poor survivor fully transform into a flesh-eating, brain-hungry monster, and First Aid doesn’t have the courage to stick around when Brawl heads out back to “take care of the poor guy.” The Combaticon is strangely humane about the entire ordeal, and it makes First Aid feel a little better, but it’s like knowing the day you’re gonna die. There’s nothing you can do, but it’s still haunting.

6. He doesn’t actually end up telling anyone, though… they just sort of find out. First Aid was pretty diligent about keeping the bite wound sanitized and wrapped, despite it doing little to help. He’s more afraid of infecting others via contact with the injury, though, and… well, he still hasn’t gathered the courage needed to open up about what happened. It’s a weird feeling, but one moment First Aid is sitting at the dining room table, staring down at a plate of food he hasn’t touched yet while Vortex and Swindle argue over some unimportant topic, and the next thing he knows, he’s suddenly being pinned to the ground by a very aggressive, very scared Onslaught. It’s hard to tell exactly what had happened at first, but a quick glance at the upturned tables and chairs and Swindle—who’s quite literally quivering in the farthest corner of the room and completely silent for once in his fucking life—tells him exactly what had happened.

7. All of a sudden, everything erupts into poorly controlled chaos. The children who witnessed the incident are crying, First Aid starts crying, Swindle is babbling on about rabies and infections and god knows what, Brawl is struggling to help gather everyone up and out of the room so Onslaught can have some space to work. It takes some time, but he eventually manages to help guide First Aid out of the house and away from the trashed dining room.

8. You could end it all depressingly with First Aid being eliminated but honestly, I hc that they just keep him in the barn or something LMAO. I like the idea that zombies aren’t as aggressive during the day, and if anything, more curious that bloodthirsty. Also, you COULD try to feed him a little something here and there. Maybe not, but like… it’s not out of the question. Vortex takes him on like he’s just another horse living in the stable, and he’s honestly the only one who’s unfazed by First Aid’s tendency to nip at stray fingers. At one point he even suggests pulling First Aid’s teeth to make him less dangerous, but the children lost their minds, so that was quickly turned down. Either way, First Aid is now their little zombie pet, and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Sometimes Vortex even takes him out on little walks with a harness and a leash. First Aid doesn’t mind it, for the most part. He even seems to like it, and he especially likes stopping to stand under the shade of trees while Vortex continues training his precious mare.

I’ve always imagined First Aid would be the type of person who would realize he is going to die, and try the very drastic amputation method. Like, if it works, that’s a different topic. But I imagine he would have seen how long it takes to turn, and then gamble on, “if I amputate the area that got bitten, then I can survive” but it would have to be a very very rapid decision.

Ie: realizing he got bitten on the arm, ripping off the clothing there, tying a tourniquet, grabbing whatever sharp object he keeps on him and doing the worlds worst and most horrific amputation. You could make a case that maybe he has medical tools on him that could be used for amputation. But it’s equally likely that he doesn’t. Bonus points if he’s alone, or what if he’s not alone and Vortex has to hold his arm down for him. Ugh. Interesting stuff though!

[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?�� he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 32

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 32 - This Venerable One is Coaxing You, It's Alright

Through the heavy lotus leaves, Mo Ran reacted like he had been struck by lightning. He was frozen in shock, all the conflicting feelings in his heart going wild, his expression unable to hide his emotions.

Shock, anger, bitter jealousy, irritation; all burst in him like fireworks. He moved his lips but was so angry, he couldn't even get a word out. He didn't even know what he was angry about. There was only one thought going through his head --

This Venerable One has slept with this guy. You think you're worthy enough to touch him?

Chu Wanning, you arrogant, egotistical, lewd slut! You, I can't believe you . . .

He didn't react at all. In this life, Chu Wanning didn't have the slightest passion or desire to engage with him. In an instant, something in his mind snapped.

All in all, it had been more than ten years, a lifetime, from birth until death.

When he was in his right mind, he was able to play it off easily, pretending to be calm.

But under the circumstances, his thoughts were chaotic and the truth was revealed. He still subconsciously believed that Chu Wanning belonged to him. Even now, he realized that he could even remember the taste of Chu Wanning's lips when they kissed . . . not to mention their desire-fueled, lustful interaction and passionate sex.

It was something that he didn't dare think about after he was reborn.

Until he saw Chu Wanning's naked back, saw that familiar figure, - broad shoulders and long legs, tight muscles, thin and powerful waist - immersed in the clear water.

These things that he had deliberately avoided, the lingering feeling he tried to forget, burst through his mind and swept away any resolve.

Mo Ran's mind went blank.

. . . This body made him react.

And it was a strong reaction that couldn't be contained at all. Just looking at it, a fire burned in his belly.

When he came back to his senses, he angrily shouted: "Chu Wanning!"

Chu Wanning actually ignored him.

The two people on either side of him held his shoulders. Steam rose from the lotus pond making it hard to discern the specific identity of the two people. But they are very close together, the distance between them dubiously close.

Mo Ran cursed. He plopped into the lotus pond and waded towards Chu Wanning—when he got closer, he realized —

I-It was actually two mecha men made of metal and redwood!

Even worse, they seemed to be taking advantage of the spiritual energy of the lotus pond water, channelling that energy into Chu Waning. Mo Ran, foolishly jumping into the water, had completely broken the spiritual energy flow . . .

He didn't know what kind of array Chu Wanning was using. He was unconscious, supported by the golden light coming from the metal palms of the two mechs. Those rays kept surging upward and converged on the wound on his shoulder, clearly healing it.

Mo Ran's intrusion caused the golden light to quickly dissipate. What was even more unexpected was that the array actually started to undo!

As the golden light dissipated, Chu Wanning's wounds began to rapidly spread. He frowned, stifling a grunt, and coughed out a mouthful of blood. Immediately, all the scars on his body began to tear open. The blood spilled out like smoke, seeping across the flower pool in an instant.

Mo Ran froze.

This was Chu Wanning's "Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique"!

He realized that he might . . . be in trouble . . .

Chu Wanning's spiritual flow is a dual system of metal and wood. The metal energy was like "Tianwen", focusing on attack and defence. The redwood energy was used for healing.

Flower Spirit Sacrifice was one of those healing techniques. Chu Wanning could gather the spirits of hundreds of flowers to heal wounds. However, during the process, no other people should enter the array, otherwise, the spirits would scatter. Instead of healing, it would exacerbate the injury. In serious cases, Chu Wanning's spiritual core would most likely be snatched up by the spirits of the flowers.

Fortunately, Mo Ran had dabbled with the Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique in his previous life and immediately severed the energy flow from the spirits. Chu Wanning, who had lost the support of the array, fell down and was steadily held by Mo Ran.

The unconscious shizun's face was pale, his lips blue, and his body was as cold as ice.

Mo Ran dragged him onto the shore. It was too dark out to see anything else. He half-held, half-dragged Chu Wanning back to his bedroom and lay him on the bed.

"Shizun? Shizun!"

After calling for him several times, there wasn't even the slightest tremble in Chu Wanning's eyelashes. Other than the slight rise in his chest, he looked dead.

Seeing Chu Wanning in this state reminded Mo Ran of his past life.

Inexplicably, his throat constricted and his heart raced.

In the last life, there were two people who died in Mo Ran's arms.

Shi Mei and Chu Wanning.

The two of them, one the love he had endlessly longed for, the other an enemy he had been entangled with all his life.

After Shi Mei was gone, Mo Weiyu ceased to exist in the world.

After Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran didn't know. He only remembered that, on that day, he guarded the person in his arms as he grew cold. He didn't cry, he didn't laugh; joy and sadness became out of reach.

After Chu Wanning was gone, Mo Weiyu no longer knew what the world was.

The lights were bright, illuminating Chu Wanning's exposed upper body.

Yuheng of the Evening Sky typically wore tight clothing. His overlapping collar was folded tight and high, and his waistband was wrapped around his waist three times, proper and simple.

Therefore, no one had seen how injured his body was after two hundred strikes . . .

That day, while he was being punished in the Court of Discipline, Mo Ran saw the beating wounds on Chu Wanning's back with his own eyes. At that time, he only knew that it was bloody and extremely grotesque. But then he saw that Chu Wanning walking around like normal and thought that he probably hadn't been hurt that badly.

Only at this moment did he realize that Chu Wanning's injuries were far more serious than he had imagined.

The five holes left by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost had fully reopened, the deepest of the holes even exposing some bone.

Chu Wanning probably didn't let anyone help reapply the medicine. He did it all by himself. The ointment was unevenly applied, and some places that he couldn't reach were inflamed and ulcerated.

Not to mention the bruises from the cane. They covered his entire back, almost no skin left unmarred. Plus, with the backlash from the array, now Chu Wanning's wounds were all torn open, blood flowing, staining the sheets underneath him.

If he didn’t witness it with his own eyes, Mo Ran wouldn't have believed that the person who insisted on wiping the bridge pillars and opening a huge rain-blocking barrier for the disciples was the person in front of him - this kind of serious injury could be classified as "debilitating".

If Chu Wanning hadn't lost consciousness, Mo Ran really wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him——

Chu Wanning, are you really that prideful?

If you bow your head and give in, who will stop you? Why do you have to be so stubborn? You're an adult. Why don't you know how to take care of yourself and treat yourself better?

Why are you so reluctant to ask others to help treat your wounds?

Why would you rather have two mechs help you with a healing array rather than ask for help?

Chu Wanning, you're delusional!!

Are you that stubborn?

He cursed to himself while he quickly tapped some acupuncture points to stop the bleeding. Then he fetched some hot water and wiped away the bloodstains on Chu Wanning's back . . .

The sharp knife was quenched and cut off the flesh that had completely festered.

For the first time, Chu Wanning groaned in pain, and his body jerking subconsciously. Mo Ran held him down, irritated: "What are you moaning for? Haven't been fucked recently? If you make any more noise, I'll stab you straight in the chest. If you die, it won't hurt anymore! It'll all be over!"

It was only at a time like this that Mo Ran could reveal his violent nature and scream at him like he did in his previous life.

But there were too many places where the wound was white and rotting. He gradually cleaned it while Chu Wanning was muttering and panting.

Even if he was unconscious, he worked hard to suppress his discomfort. He didn't shout or cry out in pain, simply covered in a layer of cold sweat. His body, which had just been wiped clean, was soaked in sweat again.

After working for almost an hour, he had finally applied the medicine and bandaged the wound.

Mo Ran helped Chu Wanning into some clothes and grabbed a thick blanket to cover the fevered shizun. He breathed a sigh of relief. Remembering that Madam Wang mixed medicine was still sealed in the paper bag, he took some boiling water and brewed a bowl of medicine, bringing it to Chu Wanning's bedside.

"Come on, take the medicine."

He picked up the sleeping person with one hand, letting him lean on his shoulder, and spooned the tonic with the other hand. He blew it and tried a sip first.

Mo Ran immediately frowned, his face screwed up: "Damn it, it's that bitter?" But he still let it cool and feed it to Chu Wanning.

Inevitably, after just half a spoonful, Chu Wanning couldn't stand it. He choked and coughed, spitting out the concoction, most of which splashed on Mo Ran's clothes.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He knew that Chu Wanning didn't like anything bitter. He was almost afraid of it.

But if he was in his normal state of mind, the stubborn Elder Yuheng would definitely push through his disgust, swallowing the medicine in one swig. At most his face might pucker afterwards and he'd secretly eat a piece of candy.

Unfortunately, Chu Wanning was currently unconscious.

Mo Ran couldn't help it. It's not good to lose your temper with someone who's unconscious so you have to be patient and feed him small sips. From time to time, you have to use a handkerchief to wipe the tonic from the corner of his mouth.

This wasn't a difficult chance for Mo Ran. After all, in his previous life, for a while, he regularly had to feed Chu Wanning. At that time, Chu Wanning resisted, and Mo Ran slapped him in the face. Then he'd grab his chin and roughly kiss him, his tongue rushing in, blood flowing . . .

He didn't dare think too deeply about it. The last few spoonfuls Mo Ran fed him were a bit sloppy, almost half of them coughed up by Chu Wanning. Then he put the man to bed, Chu Wanning harshly twisted the covers.

"I'm so kind. Don't kick the blankets off, you'll get a fever. If you're not careful, you'll catch a cold again . . ."

Halfway through his rant, he suddenly lost his temper and kicked the leg of the bed.

"Forget it. What do I care if you catch a cold? I hope you get sicker and sicker and die.""

After speaking, he turned and left.

When he reached the door, he felt a tug in his heart and couldn't ignore it. So he turned back, thought about it, and put out the candle for him. Then he left again.

This time he walked to the edge of Red Lotus Pond. Looking at the increasingly beautiful water lilies that had been dyed with Chu Wanning's blood, the annoyance in his chest only grew.

He was annoyed but still returned to the bedroom.

He stiffly walked around the room like a rusty and ageing mecha before he finally reluctantly stood next to Chu Wanning's bed.

The moonlight peaked in from the half-open bamboo window, the silver glow fanning across Chu Wanning's handsome face.

His lips were pale, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

Mo Ran hesitated and closed the window for him. It was very humid overnight. Sleeping with the windows open at night was always bad for a person. After doing this, Mo Ran inwardly cursed:

Just walked through the door and leave, you damned dog!

So, just as he walked to the door, with a bang, Chu Wanning actually kicked the blanket off.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

How could this person's habit of kicking the covers off the bed be changed?

In order not to be a dog, the sixteen-year-old Emperor TaXian had the backbone to ignore it and walk away.

He was true to his word and would never walk through that door!

A few moments later.

-- The wise and powerful emperor opened the window and tumbled in.

He picked the blanket up off the floor and covered Chu Wanning again. Mo Ran listened to Chu Wanning's soft painful groan. He twitched. Watching him curl up in the corner of the bed, no longer looking even half as fierce as he normally did.

His lips were cursing that he "deserved it", but, out of his compassion, he still started moving.

He sat by Chu Wanning's bedside and stood guard. He wouldn't let him kick the blanket off again.

It was late at night. After an exhausting day, Mo Ran couldn't keep his eyes open. His head slowly nodded down and he fell asleep.

It wasn't a good sleep. Chu Wanning kept tossing and turning. In his sleepy state, Mo Ran seemed to have heard him humming lowly.

Through his drowsiness and restful sleep, Mo Ran could barely distinguish between what was day or night. Somehow it had become natural to lie next to Chu Wanning and hold his twitching and trembling figure. He squinted his sleepy eyes, subconsciously stroking his back. He held the person in his arms and muttered softly in his sleep: "It's alright, it's alright. It doesn't hurt . . . It doesn't hurt . . ."

Mo Ran fell asleep, murmuring, as if he had returned to the Life-Death Peak of his previous life, back to the desolate and empty Wushan Hall.

Since Chu Wanning died, no one had slept beside him.

Even if their intimacy was bred out of hatred, those days after days spent in the cold made him think of nothing but his heartache, like ten thousand ants were devouring his heart.

But when he thought about it again, Chu Wanning couldn't come back.

He lost the last flame in his life.

On this night, Mo Ran embraced Chu Wanning, half-asleep and half-dreaming. One moment it was clear that he was living a new life, and in another, it was like it had been way back then.

He suddenly couldn't bear to open his eyes for fear that he would wake up tomorrow to an empty pillow and cold sheets. He was the only one left in a long life in this uncertain world.

He undoubtedly hated Chu Wanning.

However, when he held this person in his arms, the corners of his eyes grew a little moist.

He was the thirty-two-year-old Emperor TaXian, holding the warmth that he thought he would never find again.

"Wanning, it doesn't hurt anymore . . ."

His mind was hazy. Like before he had been reborn, Mo Ran stroked the hair of the person in his arms, muttering softly, unconsciously blurting out such a tender line.

He was so sleepy that he didn't even realize what he had said or what he had called the other. He spoke the words without any thought. They had just slipped out naturally. Mo Ran's breathing evened out and he plunged into an even deeper sleep.

Early the next morning, Chu Wanning's eyelashes fluttered and he leisurely awoke.

He had a strong cultivation base and the high fever that he had gotten overnight was already gone.

Chu Wanning drowsily opened his eyes, his mind still a bit fuzzy. He was about to get up but suddenly realized that someone was lying in the same bed as him.

. . . Mo-Mo Weiyu???

His shock wasn't something trivial. The colour drained from Chu Wanning's face. He couldn't remember what happened last night. What's worse, his movements had woken up Mo Ran.

The young man yawned. With a smooth and delicate face with a healthy blush that was typical of a sound sleep, he raised his confused eyes. He glanced at Chu Wanning lightly, and languidly said: "Ah . . . let me sleep a while longer . . . Since you're awake, go and cook me a bowl of preserved egg and pork congee . . ."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

What was all this nonsense? Was he talking in his sleep?

Mo Ran was still out of it. Seeing that Chu Wanning didn't move, nor did he urge others to get up to cook the congee, he lazily smiled. He stretched out his hand and lowered Chu Wanning’s face, giving him a familiar kiss on the lips.

"It's okay, you don't have to get up. I just had a nightmare. In my dream . . . ah . . . nevermind." He sighed and embraced the man who had become completely lifeless and stiff. His chin rubbed against the hair of the person in his arms. He muttered, "Chu Wanning, let me hold you again."

[sunflowerdarlingx]

Wet Dreams - George Weasley 18+

18+ 

Hi <3 

Hope everyone is okay :)

This was requested so I hope you enjoy it! (I’ve deleted the inbox with the request cause I messed up the post, praying you got a notification for it before I lost it 😩)

Please let me know what you think, requests are open <3

Female Reader 

Warnings: unprotected sex, daddy kink, orgasm denial, spanking

Minors DNI

-------------------------------------------------------- 

George and Y/N were tucked up in bed at the flat, Y/N had her left leg over his hips whilst her arm draped over his chest with her hand on his shoulder, her head was tucked away in his neck. His left arm was wrapped around her waist, hand spreading over her hip. 

George was sleeping soundly until he felt Y/N move her hips against his thigh, he kept his eyes shut and pulled her closer, thinking she was just uncomfortable. He was close to falling back asleep when he felt her hips move against him again, this time a small whimper left her mouth at the contact. 

“So big Georgie” she mumbled into his neck, her hand starting to grasp at his shoulder. George opened his eyes and looked down at her, her hips moved slowly against him, he couldn’t help but smirk down at her. He could feel the damp patch on her panties against his thigh. God the feeling alone and the sound of her moans had his cock hardening in his boxers. He lifted his hand to tilt her chin towards him, he placed a soft his to her lips, quickly grabbing his wand and flicking it to turn the bedside lamp on.

“Wakey wakey angel” he mumbled against her lips, her eyes fluttered open and a light shade of pink painted her skin. 

“W..what time is it?” she stuttered, still flustered from her dream, she tilted her chin up at him and pouted her lips. 

“It’s early angel, you woke me up” he leaned down to kiss her, “you were moving a lot baby, were you having a dream?”, Y/N got redder, her eyes shifting from his down to his chest. She nodded her head and traced circles on his chest. 

“Oh yeah?” he questioned and sat up against the headboard. “C’mere and tell me what you were dreaming about” he patted his hand on his thigh, right where she had been grinding against him. 

She scrambled to straddle his waist “was just dreaming about you daddy, s’all” she started to leave little kisses down his jaw and neck. His hands gave her hips a quick squeeze before he rested his hands on her arse. 

“Oh yeah, what was I doing?” 

“Just giving me kisses” she mumbled against his neck. George ran his hand up her back, down her arm and back up over her stomach and chest. His hand wrapped around her throat and pushed her back slightly. 

“Are you lying to me angel?”, Y/N tried to shake her head no, her eyes wide as he glared at her, jaw clenched. 

“‘M gonna ask you one more time, are you lying to me” this time she tried to nod her head against his hand. “Next time tell me the truth pretty girl, can you do that? That way I won't have to give you in trouble.”

His hand that wasn’t around her throat lay a harsh smack on her arse “now tell me about your dream”, his tone sent a shiver down her spine, “cause I know my kisses get you wet angle, but never this wet” his hand moved from her arse to rub her softly over her underwear, “so tell me what happened and we can make your naughty little dream come true”. George felt his cock harden even more at the feel of her wet pussy all for him.

“Mmm… well you were fucking me daddy” a little whine left her lips when George pulled his hand away. 

“Oh yeah, what position baby? Show me how I had you whilst I fucked your tight little pussy” Y/N moved off of his lap and got on all fours, her feet resting at the end of the bed whilst her back arched.

“Like this daddy” she looked over at George, a cheeky smile on her face “and then, you flipped me over like this” she turned onto her back “you held my hands up here” she placed them both above her head “nd your other hand played with my pussy, daddy” 

George couldn’t help but grin at his perfect little angel. He stood up at the edge of the bed and ran his hand over her thighs, “can I take these off?” Y/N nodded eagerly at her boyfriend. He pulled the sunshine yellow lace down her legs and placed soft kisses to her calves. “Top off and then I want you on all fours”. Y/N got onto her knees in front of George and slid his shirt off of her body while he took off his boxers. 

Y/N grinned as she lifted her hips into the air, a loud yelp leaving her mouth when a hard smack met her backside. “Fuck daddy, ow” she pouted back at him and he did it again. 

“You gonna lie to me again angel?” his tone was full of authority, a third smack hit her arse “You know I’m not very patient baby”. 

Smack.

Smack. 

The fifth made her cry out “no daddy...won't lie again, promise daddy only the truth”. Five more quick fire smacks hit her arse before he kneaded at the bright red flesh. 

“Good girl” George crouched down behind her and ran his finger along her slit and down to her clit, rubbing soft circles on the delicate bud. “How did I fuck you in the dream baby? Rough or soft?” his finger teased his entrance. 

“hard and deep but also quite gentle” she looked at him over her shoulder, pushing her hips back to try and create some friction, her cunt aching for his attention now. His finger teased her before he brought his finger to his mouth. 

“Mhmm so sweet, always taste so good, don’t you” 

“Yes da...oh fuck” Y/Ns moans filled the room as George thrusted two fingers into her dripping cunt. His fingers moved perfectly inside of her, each and every time, grazing the sweet spot that makes her see stars. 

George kissed the back of her thighs, the feeling of her walls clenching around his fingers made him want to cum there and then. 

“You getting close angel?” he questioned 

“Yes daddy, feels soo good” her legs started to shake so George stood up to wrap his arm around her waist. 

George pulled his fingers away, “tough”, Y/Ns whiney begs filled the room. 

“Please daddy”

“Promise I won’t lie again”

“Please let me cum”

“I need you daddy”

“Only you can make me feel good” 

George gripped his cock, spitting on the tip, running his saliva over his cock before spitting on his fingers, running them over her entrance. 

“Please daddy, promise i’ll be...fuck” George slammed is cock inside her and pounded into her, hands gripping her hips so tight that he would definitely leave bruises. 

“Fuck daddy youre so big” she moaned into the mattress. George smirked, the sentence feeling very familiar. 

“So big and you take it so well don't you baby” George tugged her hair and pulled her up so her back was against his chest, “fit around me like you were made for me...fuck” he groaned and kissed her neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. 

His arm moved from her hair to her waist, keeping her still against him. 

“m’close” George watched her carefully, her eyes heavy as she bit her lip. “Gonna cum” he smirked to himself before pulling out and letting her go, her knees buckled below her. She dropped to the mattress, chest heaving as she was flipped onto her back. George stood above her with his arms folded. 

“You didn’t ask me angel” George climbed on the mattress and wrapped both of her legs around his waist “you need my permission kitten, remember?”. Y/N nodded as she pulled him down for a kiss, George ran his cock up and down her entrance, teasing her by pushing the tip in before quickly pulling it out. 

“Please” she mumbled into the kiss “I need you”. George pushed fully into her, both of them moaning into the kiss. George built up a steady rhythm as his hips met hers. He was much more gentle this time, kissing her sweetly whilst he fucked her. 

“So tight” he rested her forehead on hers “I love you” he groaned out quietly before kissing her again. 

“I love you too” her walls clenched around him, bringing George closer to his own release. He laced his fingers with hers and brought it above her head whilst his other was brought down to play with her clit. 

“You always fuck me so good” Y/N’s back arched at the contact, “can I cum please?” her nails scratched down his  back. 

“Of course you can, cum all over my cock baby” he kissed her again, their lips parting as her mouth hung open, loud moans leaving her mouth along with George's name. Her legs shook around him, whilst her head fell back against the pillows.

“Gonna cum baby, where do you want it?” his hips stuttered slightly.

“Fill me up daddy, fill me with your cum” after hearing that George filled her up, thick white cum coating her walls.

The two stayed together for a few minutes before George stood up, “wait here, don't move”. Y/N did as she was told, looking over at the clock 6.03am, it really was early. 

George came back through and lifted her up bridal style, he walked over to his drawers and grabbed a pair of sweats for him, a pair of her shorts and two of his tops. He walked them through to the bathroom and sat her on the toilet seat. He shut off the tap to the bath and checked the temperature of the water, “perfect”. 

He grinned at her cheekily before lifting her into the bath, sliding in behind her. “Thought we could go for breakfast after this? Then a movie day?” he asked as he used a cup on the side to run water through her hair. 

“Sounds perfect” she hummed as she leaned into his touch. 

“I think we should recreate your dreams more”, Y/N didn't have to see him to know that a shit eating grin covered his face as a soft giggle left her lips.

-------------------

MASTERLIST

Requests Open

[keisurou]

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni. 

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited. 

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :) 

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,” 

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?” 

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment. 

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,” 

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,” 

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast. 

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,” 

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. 

“So, no sex?” 

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?” 

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,” 

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed. 

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles. 

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory. 

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work. 

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.  

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,” 

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined.  But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue. 

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.” 

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle.  For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine. 

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets. 

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing. 

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh. 

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention. 

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?” 

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right? 

“She seriously never told ya?” 

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.” 

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing. 

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod. 

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers. 

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and- 

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size. 

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?” 

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length. 

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers. 

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him. 

He does it again, harder. 

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and— 

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge. 

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi. 

Thank you for reading :) 

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[dourpeep]

Capitulation

Fun fact the actual fic is 1666 words—1666 words of utterly salacious, sinful smut...

Summary: In which he finally gives in. Also known as, Scaramouche is intrigued by your attempts at being on top but doesn’t want you to know that.

Contents: ((NSFW 18+)) sub!Scara, dom!Reader, bratty Scara (he has his moments), teasing, denial, degradation, praise, ‘good boy’, one (1) ‘good girl’, desperation, intercrural sex, cunnilingus, afab reader, crude language

open-ended ending because you know I love to add onto existing fics with surprise part 2’s but anyway! Under the cut as usual <3

Your hand cups strangely flawless skin stained with red, your thumb smearing the rouge painted along violet eyes. For a moment, your chest squeezes tight. He always looks so pretty. Your heart stutters at the realization, and you suck in a breath. Surely, he’s noticed your distraction by now, right?

The thought is short lived as your offending hand is smacked away.

“What do you think you’re doing—?”

His lips sit in a sneer, betrayed by the way a light blush sits on his cheeks. “Do you really think I’d be desperate enough to settle for someone like you?”

He was doing a shitty job if he thought he was hiding his desires.

Without another moment wasted, you lean in close, almost touching. Your breath brushes over his lips and for a moment you notice he’s frozen. You watch his resolve flicker. He’s left helpless—the arrogant, proud Balladeer. To see that, really, under all those big words and cold looks, he wanted—no, needed—your touch. It soothed a desire usually pushed aside.

He stays where he lays sprawled when you turn away.

Despite having your back to him, you can feel his eyes burning against the exposed planes of your body as you strip. You’re sure if he wasn’t so interested in what you’re going to do, he would’ve already trapped you back against the bed.

Taking your time to bend forward, you give him the opportunity to drink in your nude form fully. A look over your shoulder reveals his flushed face.

You contemplate.

Yet the way his lips part gently stirs something in your chest—a warmth, a fire—and you spread your legs for him. When his breathing hitches you smile in satisfaction. So much for ‘settling’.

The last bit of your clothing falls with a whisper to the floor.

“You’re taking forever.”

As soon as the little quip leaves him you tilt your head and purse your lips.

“I don’t have to touch you. In fact,” You stroll back to the bed, hand making the surface dip where you lean. “Maybe I should just tie you up-“ Between his legs, his cock throbs. “And make you watch me cum.”

His eyes widen and you climb onto the bed to straddle his lap. Arms loose around his shoulders, you kneel on the bed with legs on either side of his, cunt hovering over him just out of reach and your lips brushing at his ear.

“Only good boys get rewards.”

Before his hands can settle on you, you slip back off and pretend you need something from the side table.

In the five minutes it takes for you to rifle through the contents, Scaramouche gets up, standing close behind you to goad you into pleasing him. His teeth meet the nape of your neck and you sigh.

Wasting no time, you feel him press against your ass, searching for a hint of friction as he grabs your hips to press them closer. You decide to humor him and grind back.

The groan that slips from his lips as he nips at your shoulder drives you to guide his hands to touch your chest, pinching and squeezing at your nipple, and the harder buck he gives you hints that anymore would upset your plan.

“Good girl-“

And with the murmur of praise, you stop. If only you could see his expression when he realizes he failed to notice the way you gathered a fine scarf from the drawer. A brief flash of frustration, rage, and realization hit him at once and you easily slip from between his now tied wrists.

You grin and push him back onto the bed as he attempts to undo the knot. You both know well that he easily could rip through the delicate fabric.

He settles for glaring, but even that doesn’t last long as you once again straddle him.

Between your thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peeking, a pretty pearl of precum leaking only to smear on his skin. By now he can feel how aroused you are, especially as you slowly rock against him. His jaw clenches at the feeling, holding his moans at each stroke of wet heat against his shaft.

“I bet you’ll cum just from this, won’t you? Getting off on getting your cock stroked by my pussy-“

You mimic your earlier ministration, grinding down hard on him. Beneath you his hips buck up.

“Fuck yes-“

A particular grind against him rubs just right against your clit and you sigh, closing your eyes. Your hips shift to keep the right angle while you continue your slow, teasing pace.

His expression shifts, brows furrowed and lips parting with each pant. By now he’s stopped toying with the scarf and settled for resting his bound wrists behind his head to reveal the expanse of flawless, pale skin just faintly flushed with red from the warmth of arousal. Admiring the way he squirms beneath you, one of your hands settles on his chest while the other cups his cheek. He leans into your touch.

“You look so cute like this, all hard and trembling.”

Scaramouche only sighs in response, hips meeting yours when you slide up along his shaft.

“It’s a shame to see you gave in so easily—”

You lift your hips off his and watch as his raise to chase after the feel of you. He growls and tugs at the ties on his wrists again. Instead, his hazy eyes open to greet the sigh of you already shifting up over his waist, chest—until you’re finally just above his chin. The prior frustration melts away. If it weren’t for the way his face was partially blocked, you’d bet he was already wetting his lips in excitement. Stroking his hair, you smile.

With patience, you wait until his breaths turn to pants, your gaze set on how he’s entirely lost in the thoughts that are no doubt swimming in his mind.

It’s almost funny how the mouthy man watches each tilt and sway of your hips above him.

Using your thumb, you push his bangs to the side. Striking violet eyes flick to meet yours following the gesture and you watch the way his pupils dilate as you descend.

Eagerly, he presses his lips to your sensitive bud, tongue swirling and flicking. He tilts his head down, trailing his lips over your wetted slit, tongue peeking to trace along it until it slips within. Already you grind down against his ministrations with a moan.

“Such a good boy, doing so well-“

Tongue still buried deep, he lets out a moan. You can feel the puffs of warm breath against your core as he pants against your skin. With the way his fingers tremble and leave red half-moons in the flesh of his palms, you could tell he was getting close. Perhaps you got a bit carried away earlier—he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you, making your back arch and toes curl.

Your hands weave into purple locks and your voice seem to sing out his name as your orgasm washes over you, hitting you in slow warm waves.

Between your legs he slurps and sucks you through your high. The sound of ripping fabric hardly registers, though the way that his hands grip your thighs hard and pull you closer to his lips and tongue catches you by surprise.

“Oh—mmn-!”

It takes over in intensity and you nearly sob at the pleasure bordering painful, gripping the headboard hard and pushing away at him in attempt to relieve yourself.

As you’re coming back down, you see the lazy, yet utterly smug smirk on Scaramouche’s face.

Apart from it, he looks utterly debauched.

“What was that about giving in?”

You promptly shut him up by reaching back and giving him a featherlight stroke. Your touch makes his eyes squeeze shut and pulls a gasp from his lungs, nearly leaving him breathless. So sensitive for someone so sure of himself.

Another touch teases just along the line where shaft meets tip and his body jerks and his hips hump at the empty air in a bout of desperation. Your look down to see his forehead, slick with sweat and warm with his efforts, pressing to your thighs.

A quick peek back confirms the mess he’s made of his own thighs, now filthy with thick ropes of white. Shifting, you lift yourself up from his lips.

“Big words coming from you, Scara.”

A finger traces over the line of his messy jaw, gently tipping his chin up.

“You’re so desperate to be touched, aren’t you?”

You remove yourself from above him, instead kneeling between his legs, a hand reaching to stroke already sensitive flesh. When your fingertip brushes beneath the head of his over-sensitive cock, he lets out a keening whine. A dribble leaks from his tip. His eyes, already so hazy from desire, widen when you bring your hand up to your lips to lap at the mess he made.

Transfixed, he shifts, propping himself up on his forearms. You crawl forward to kneel between his legs, pressing a kiss to his still-wet lips.

Still a bit fuzzy from your separate highs, the kiss deepens as tongues press and tangle, mingling the taste of you both. His arms pull you into his lap and you oblige, not minding the way his thighs were still messy.

When you finally break the kiss, he presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear. You feel the way he fills out again beneath you.

The way he looks at you is ravenous, a drastic switch between the way he was just trembling at your touch and you find that you too feel the same. As his tongue presses to your neck you gasp and push at him. Scaramouche grins and squeezes your hip. Your eyes meet with renewed vigor.

“I bet you can’t handle another round.”

“Try me.”

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE 

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one. 

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day. 

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress. 

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead. 

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door. 

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear. 

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh. 

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.” 

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?” 

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left. 

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction. 

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering. 

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.” 

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words. 

He had called it a relationship!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen? 

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning. 

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up. 

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted. 

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies. 

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused. 

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way. 

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest. 

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom. 

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck. 

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form. 

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror. 

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. 

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear. 

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady. 

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat. 

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock. 

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable. 

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.” 

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet. 

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day. 

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.” 

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth. 

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles. 

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt. 

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave. 

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help. 

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning. 

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[uniquevocashark]

BASED ON THIS

TW for a brief mention of grevious bodily harm

@homoo-wan-kenobi thanks for the idea!

Its sometime in the evening, late by the way your eyes droop tiredly. Your hands are sore and red, the water you’ve used scalding enough to melt flesh off. Miss Bela showed you how once, and you haven’t been the same since. Lady Dimitrescu has five sets of sheets for her bed and all five of them are ruined and dark with a viscous brown liquid.

You’ve been up since the early hours, soaking and scrubbing and pressing the massive sheets, to say nothing of the tears you shed over the ruined throw pillows.

You would’ve had help, but Lady Chiara was an even worse employer than Lady Dimitrescu. Many a person had been let go or retained in the cellars at Lady Chiara’s word, so you were almost chronically understaffed. It wasn’t like you lost any company, because you had no free time to socialise other than the occasional staff group nap, but you did miss being able to rest your hands for more than a minute.

Lady Chiara came to see you sometime in the evening, buttoned up warmly in a sleek black coat. “Still fussing over the sheets?”

You didn’t answer right away, pressing the last corner of the last sheet. “They are finished, but I cannot salvage the blankets or the throw pillows.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be out for the week, don’t touch my side of the room while I’m gone.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

You don’t like Lady Chiara, but she doesn’t seem to care as long as you keep to her instructions for her things. And you do, because you like your job and want to keep it. And for Lady Dimitrescu.

Lady Chiara is opposite to you in that; she seems to hate Lady Dimitrescu, and everything they do that isn’t mandated by Mother Miranda. You’ve seen her smile, you know she’s capable of it, she can be charming and sweet and even loving in public. But she never spares Lady Dimitrescu a smile in private and her sweet tone hides a menagerie of awful insults that make you cringe to hear them.

Most times its about her appearance, which you think is ludicrous. Lady Dimitrescu’s posture is always perfect, her smile is always sincere, her voice always clear, her makeup consistent and perfect. You couldn’t understand how she could possibly claim they were awful or tacky. If Lady Dimitrescu managed to be perfectly to her standards, Lady Chiara would sneer over how the house was run, or the castle décor, or how dinner was cooked. And that wasn’t even the worst of them.

When you do finally finish putting the sheets away, its after dinner and you bump into Lady Dimitrescu as she’s striding down the hallway.

“There you are,” She greets you while you struggle through a curtsy with your hands full of fresh sheets for her bed. She glances at them and her face goes mildly blank, “Ah, I see.”

“Forgive me,” You say immediately, “I couldn’t salvage the throw pillows.”

“Did you spend all day trying to?”

“Of course, my lady. Why wouldn’t I?”

She looked at you and your sore and red hands and smiled, “I see. Carry on.”

And then she was gone, and you went the rest of your day cleaning her room while she entertained her daughters. When Lady Chiara was gone, Alcina liked to have music playing throughout the castle. She usually abhors the quiet. You have no idea why she hates the quiet, but she does, even a moment of silence put her on edge. You gathered from her one day that Lady Chiara hadn’t liked it when she played music during the day, so she had stopped.

It was a shame, Alcina had a lovely taste in music.

Most days she and her daughters would lounge in the drawing room, the smoke from her cigarette making the light of the candles hazy. They’d play music together, or each daughter would take turns playing against their mother in chess, or she’d read to them in soft dulcet tones before tucking them into bed one at a time.

When you went to her room later that night with her after dinner tea, the candles weren’t lit at all and the curtain was drawn open fully to let in the moonlight. It painted her silver and inky black but for her eyes, which shimmered silver when she turned to look at you. Her hat was on the floor, her silver threaded hair loose around her shoulders, down her back and slightly frizzy no matter the number of pins in her hair.

You picked up her hat and set it down beside the tray of tea in front of her then move to light a few candles. Your steps echo as you move to the other side of the room, and when you look over at her, she’s slouching in her chair. She sips her tea daintily when you stand beside her and hums with obvious pleasure.

“Thank you,” She says and you decide not to comment on the way her voice wobbles uncertainly, “You may leave.”

You don’t move and she doesn’t tell you to get out.

She’s your height while she sits and while her posture is still perfect, her shoulders are relaxed more than you’ve seen in months. Her face, though, is stuck in a pout and her lips twist while she breathes through her nose with growing intensity. You fix the way her hair parts and then, after a moment where you both look at each other, you carefully wrap your arms around her head and pull her close.

Alcina releases a long and shuddering breath, one had coming to hold your elbow loosely. You rest your chin on her head while her breathing calms down, her other arm looping around your waist and holding you close. Her hair smelt vaguely floral, a type of flower you couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe one day you would ask her and maybe one day she would answer.

“We can’t keep doing this.” She murmured, and you could feel your sleeve grow damp when she buried her eyes into your arm.

You placed a kiss to her head, “One day, my lady.”

[rreyie]

i am respectfully asking for a commander erwin and mike threesome that is so filthy i am embarrassed i’m reading it. u can throw in levi if ya want :).

ooh.... yummy

—————————————————————————

superiors

summary- a threesome with mike erwin and levi lol

warnings- HOLY SHIT THERES A LOT- anal, groping, vaginal, oral, panty sniffing, tasting yourself, degrading, mike coaching levi on how to facefuck, facefucking, unedited work

a/n- SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT! also, i’ve never really written pure filth so i’m sorry if this isn’t as dirty to your liking, but i tried to put in some... questionable material in there

“mike. shut the door.”

you were spread out on erwins desk like a whore. your hands were tied together by a small piece of fabric, while your own panties were shoved into your mouth. you could taste yourself on them, the bittersweet taste sharp on your tongue.

for the past few minutes or so, your superiors had been feeling and groping you relentlessly, touching every inch of your body until they managed to get you wet. and it didn’t even take a full five minutes to get you all hot and bothered. that’s what drove all three of them crazy.

your cream colored button up shirt was torn open, leaving your tits out on full display for them to admire. meanwhile, your pants were completely removed and on the floor somewhere. all of the men were in their boxers, minus erwin, who was wearing absolutely nothing. his cock size always frightened you, it looked to be about eleven inches, maybe twelve.

“now... where were we?” mike growled, peering over the desk. levi walked over too, jet black hair a mess. the three of them had a predatory gaze on you, as if you were the antalope and they were the lions. “has our princess been a good girl?”

“why don’t we find out?” erwin suggested. without saying anything else, he easily slid a thick finger into you, a muffled moan slipping from your mouth. you couldn’t help but feel your velvety walls contract against the finger, as he circled it around in an attempt to find your sweet spot.

“shit, look at how desperate she is”, erwin cooed. “don’t worry, dear y/n. we promise to make you feel all nice and good once we’re done prepping you.”

you could only imagine how you would handle all of them at once- you had done these sort of things with erwin and mike before, but levi was a new addition. the only reason he was added was because he had walked in on you three last time while erwin was balls deep inside of you and mike was on the other end facefucking you until your lips were swollen.

you couldn’t complain though. from just looking at his boxers, you could see a bulge- and it was no joke. perhaps he was 8 inches. you couldn’t help but wonder- how the fuck were you going to take all this?

erwin continued to explore you, placing a hand on your breast. he circled your nipple as it slowly began to pebble, the contact making it more sensitive than before.

“she’s ready. levi, why don’t you take her first? i’m sure she’s hungry for some cock, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” erwins azure eyes darted over to yours. you nodded, and mike removed the panties from your mouth. holding the soiled cloth to his nose, he sniffed it a bit, giving a hum of approval at the stench.

seeing levi’s figure hovering above you was... intimidating, to say the least. though his height wasn’t much, his silver orbs were unwelcoming and his raven hair hung around his face like a halo. despite all of this, a shade of pink was spread across his cheeks as he looked down at you. you were so vulnerable, so... helpless. maybe that was what turned you on.

taking a hand and shoving it in his blackish-grey boxers, he returned with his cock, fully erect with a bit of precum dripping down the side. a vein curved it’s way from the base to near the tip. his tip was somewhere between pink and red, a bit glossy.

“well? how am i supposed to do this?” levi asked, looking to erwin and mike for assistance. mike brushed his ashy hair out of the way, and stood next to levi.

“you’re telling me you’ve never done this before, huh?” mike chuckled. “that’s alright. guess you’ll need me to show you the ropes. tell the slut to lay her head back, first of all.”

your head dropped to the end of the table, shaking the desk. mike took a hold of your hands and slowly untied them, only to put them on your stomach where he re-tied them, making the fabric tighter around your wrists, making it so levi could get closer to your head.

“open up”, mike commanded you. you obliged almost instantly, opening up your mouth to provide levi an entrance. “now, don’t be shy to treat her as your own personal fuck toy- after all, that is what she’s here for.”

he steered his cock towards your mouth, a drop of precum landing on your tongue. it was pleasantly salty, lucky for you that levi had a good taste to him.

levi shoved himself into you, feeling his warm shaft throb around your lips and soft tissue of your mouth. he let out an audible gasp, and thrusted into you again. you gagged, your hands forming fists as he hit the back of your throat.

“that’s right. fuck her like the obedient slut she is”, mike growled.

just out of your sight, you saw erwin sitting in his leather desk chair fisting himself to the sight of you taking levi in with your mouth. a smirk formed across his face as he focused on your face, tears forming at your lashline as he hit the back of your throat again and again.

not long after, levi’s breathing became broken, panting as he came undone, his cock squirting his release into your mouth.

a growing ache began to form in your stomach, your pussy tingling at the thought of being used like this.

this was only the beginning- the appetizer, if you please.

“well done”, erwins voice boomed. “now just like the good girl you are, you’re gonna let us all have you, right?”

you nod your head sheepishly, as erwin sits you up, grabbing your waist and carries you over to the nearby sofa. mike was already silt there laying down, so you assumed he would have your back end.

“i’ll be nice and let you have her pussy this time, levi”, erwin said. “after all, this is your first time.”

levi nodded. “it’s appreciated, commander.”

as you were laid out on mike, you could already feel his cock in between your legs, brushing up against your womanhood. he was fully erect, throbbing a bit as his dick stood proudly against you.

“take this off”, erwin commanded. “it’s only getting in the way. your tits look prettier without that damn shirt, they’ll look even better once we’re all finished with you.”

levi is standing at the end of the couch, preparing himself by pumping his cock a few times, getting harder with each movement.

“look up to your commander”, mike said. doing so, you felt erwins dick pressed up to your lips, slightly wet from his previous activity.

something suddenly filled you up on the other end, followed by levi grabbing your ass. he was already touching your sweet spot, tip gently brushing against your cervix. you were about to let a moan out, but were quickly silenced by eriwins massive cock being shoved into your mouth. the vibrations made erwin go absolutely feral, prompting him to go further into you.

levi began to stretch you out, his cock gliding along your slick walls while mike aided his dick past the ring of muscle. you let out a yelp, but erwin pushed further into you to silence you.

“never told you that you could speak right now”, erwin growled. “right now it’s our turn to have fun with you.”

at this point, you couldn’t even muster the strength to speak, or courage. all three men were fucking your brains out, and reaching out curious hands to touch you in every single place. mikes hands firmly grasped your breasts, erwins hands were all tangled up in your hair and levi’s palms were on your ass, holding on as he pounded into you repeatedly.

mikes breathing became rough, slapping his hips into your ass as he plowed into your tight hole one last time. his mouth latched onto your shoulder, biting your supple flesh gently. you could feel his seed spurt into you, hot and warm.

levi came next, giving a breathy moan before pulling out and letting his seed spatter onto your stomach. and oh boy did he have a load. it was everywhere, your stomach, thighs, even a drop or two landed on your breasts.

soon your own climax came, making you spasm and writhe around mikes cock, that was still inside you. levi’s hand grazed your clit for a moment, and then rubbed it as you rode out your high.

you felt something wet come from you, and it wasn’t cum. erwin looked over to levi, both men smiling at whatever you were doing.

“oi, erwin”, levi called. “look at this, she squirted.” he held up a hand, now soaked in clear fluid. “what, did we pleasure you too well?”

before you got a chance to respond, erwin grunted, holding both of your warm cheeks and thrusted into your mouth one last time before unleashing his load into your mouth. your entire throat was painted white, and you choked on his sticky release.

you coughed a few times, and swallowed the rest of the cum that had came out of him. some landed on your face, some in your mouth.

now, you were a mess. you had cum and spit everywhere, white blotches littering your body. you were sat up back on the couch, mike moving from underneath you. levi ran to the bathroom and quickly dried himself off, passing the towel to the other two men to wipe off sweat and any other indications of what you were doing.

you could barely see, the pleasure still fogging your brain and vision. it was almost time for dinner, and people would think something was wrong if you all didn’t report to the mess hall.

as erwin fastened the rest of his shirt, he looked in your direction and gave a dark chuckle.

“what, need help getting dressed?” he laughed. the other two men laughed too at your inability to take care of yourself. it wasn’t like you could get up and walk, due to your legs feeling like jelly.

“j-just pass me my clothes...” you whisper, and yawn.

the men exchanged glances, and mike turned around to grab your pair of panties that sat on erwins desk. instead of giving them to you, he quickly stuffed them in his pocket.

“i’ll take this”, he said. “thank you for your donation.”

“hey, i need those!” you attempt to shout, but it came out as a quiet squeal. “give them back, mike.”

“too bad. guess the rest of the scouts will have to see what a cum slut you are”, erwin said, ushering the men out the door. “see you in five.”

so you crawled on your hands and knees to put on your clothes, fastening buckles and buttoning buttons. you felt the cum soak the bottom of your pants, seeping through the thin fabric of your pants.

for the rest of the night, you had to sit with your fellow officers in the mess hall with an ass full of cum. it was humiliating, but worth it.

[aiiwa]

SUMMERS WITH YOU — OIKAWA TOORU.

— oikawa tooru.

genre: fluff, fluff, fluff

warnings: cursing, suggestive themes, a tiny, tiny bit nsfw - i can’t help it. not really proof read since its 4am.

word count: 1.7k

— a/n: it was about time i wrote a fic for him hehe. what if i said this was originally a hawks fic i wrote but never posted lol.

— navi. | m.list

oikawa loved summer.

summer mornings where the sun would bathe you in its radiance; capturing the soft glow of your bare back, and the cheeky glint in your eyes as you rolled on your side to face him. you’d giggle at the way your hair stuck out at odd angles, leaning into his touch as he brushed the strands away from your face. and with a pretty smile on your pink lips, you’d whisper the sweetest, “good morning, babe,” leaving oikawa with no choice but to pull you on top of him. he’d claim just five minutes of cuddling, ignoring the roll of your eyes as you snuggled into his warm chest. it was always an hour later that the two of you would leave the comfort of your shared bed.

then there were summer days spent at the beach, with you laid out on your stomach between his toned legs. oikawa could taste the sea salt, and a hit of your cherry lip gloss, on his tongue; a smirk tugging at his mouth as he remembered the kiss he’d stolen from you in the parking lot. electrifying tingles spreading across the palms of his big hands, as he continued to rub the cool lotion on your smooth skin - hands moving lower and lower-

“ah, tooru.” you hiss as his wandering fingers massaged dangerously close to your clothed heat, brushing the underside of your lush thighs. you turned back to playfully glare at him. “watch it, there’s people here.”

“oh c’mon, mi amor. that’s never stopped us before, has it?” when he teasingly dips under your rose tinted bikini bottoms, pads of his long fingers trailing a scorching path against you - it was fair to say he earned the swift dig to his side with the heel of your foot. “ow, baby, shit that hurt.”

holding his side as if he were a wounded soldier, he stared at you with pouty lips and wide eyes, insisting you kiss it better. and when you had sat up to, begrudgingly, press a kiss to his poor boo boo; you’d find yourself in his lap, with his lips moulded to yours. it was easy to say days at the beach usually ended much easier than you wanted them to.

but the warm summer nights spent with you, were his favourite.

intimate dinners prepared together, were eaten on the balcony of your shared apartment - a real gem located right by the water, and a short walk away from the markets you frequented. oikawa would refuse to eat unless you had taken a seat on your throne, rather his lap; which was right where you belonged. and he always got his way. so together you would eat, with you talking animatedly about your day, and him relishing in the feel of your body against his.

after washing and drying the dishes, oikawa had offered a walk along the beach - a makeshift apology for cutting your beach time in the daylight short. though he didn’t seem the least bit sorry, you still agreed.

so walking hand in hand, you tugged him to a stop before the gentle tides.

the golden sun had long set, in its place a full moon high up in the darkened sky; wispy clouds were sparse, allowing the bright constellations of the glittering stars to be seen. but with the way you stared up into the heavens - the shadowed angle of your jaw, the soft curve of your cheek, as your sweet lips parted slightly in awe - oikawa could feel his mouth run dry. the stars, the moon, the galaxy; had absolutely nothing on you.

he hadn’t even noticed you were speaking to him, his heart beating heavily in his ears until you turned around and...and…

“holy fuck, mi amor...you’re an angel.”

your eyes widened at his admission, a giggle escaping your mouth before you shyly lowered your gaze, long lashes brushing your heated cheeks. the chalk-white moon beamed from behind your silhouette, the luminescence haloing around your body, an ethereal glow that had oikawa believing he had truly been blessed with an angel. he held his breath when you looked back up at him; pink tongue swiping across your bottom lip, oikawa mimicking the same motion wantingly.

“how about a swim?” you propose, brushing your hand across the back of your lithe neck, down to your chest.

“oh? do you want me to grab our suits?” he asks distractedly.

his eyes focus on your hand trailing down the side of your body, dusting the trim of your white baby doll dress that barely brushed the top of your thighs. his hands began to twitch at the obvious teasing, so eager to touch you.

“no need.” and with a smirk, you swiftly pull the dress over your head, revealing yourself fully to him.

oikawa gapes, as he commits every luscious curve and sexy dip of your exposed flesh. every time you stood before him, in all your unrivaled beauty, it was always like he was seeing you for the first time. as if he was still that same senior in high school who almost combusted at the sight of your naked flesh; rather than the professional volleyball player who had learned and loved your body every day and night. he couldn’t help but thank whichever god was watching over him; blessing his eyes, and his eyes only, with you.

suddenly remembering where the two of you were, and with the thought of other undeserving eyes being able to see what was his; he forced his gaze away from you. keen eyes scanned the perimeter of the beach, only relaxing a bit when he was certain the two of you were the only ones out.

“tooru.” you called out for him, the sound of your soft voice sent a shiver down his spine. you commandeered his attention and he was all-willing.

refocusing on you, he held in the groan that almost escaped his lips. you had waded into the water, shaped legs languidly gliding through the waves, and the sightly view of your full ass was obstructed once you halted your movement, hip-deep in the water. it was unfair how easily you made his body react to you; ragged breaths, heat spreading across his body, and the uncomfortable tightening in the crotch of his shorts, were telling.

“are you gonna strip and join me?” the question was almost innocent, but from the lilt in your tone, oikawa knew it was anything but. especially when you smirked and teased him over your shoulder. “come and get me, oh great king.”

oikawa was sure he’d achieved a new record with how fast he had torn off his clothes to chase after you. with a shriek you had attempted to run off, though the sound of your laughter was cut off once he easily trapped you with his arms around your waist. leaning down, he nuzzles his face into the smooth spaces between your shoulder and jaw, inhaling deeply, an crooning at the smell of your scent invading his senses.

he began peppering a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses, tasting the sweet and saltiness of your skin; your small hands grasped at his arms around your waist, arching back into him. he halted by your ear with hot, bated breaths.

“i caught you, mi amor.” he hummed throatily.

wriggling in his grasp and turning around to face him, oikawa felt his breath leave him once again. the sound of his racing heart beating echoed in his ears as he took in the vision of you before him.

you were flush against him, the soft cushioning of your chest against his own; had his straining member pressed into your belly twitch, eager for your attention. oikawa was ready to beg for your touch, to put him out of his misery, but his clouded thoughts were pushed aside.

your fingers trailed from his wrists, upwards, tracing the veins of his forearms and giving his biceps a self-indulgent squeeze. reaching his broad shoulders, you almost had to tip toe to slide the flat of your palms around his neck; one reaching further to tangle into the tufts of coffee-toned hair at his nape. tugging at the strands, oikawa releases a whine as you pulled yourself closer to him. craning your neck to look up at him, he glances down and gulps audibly at the emotion painted on your pretty features.

“i hope you know you’ve caught me for life.” you whisper to him, tightening your grip almost painfully. “i’m so deeply in love with you, if you ever left me...i-”

overwhelmed with the purity of your love and raw affection, oikawa let’s his instincts take over. bending his knees, he slides his large hands down your body, lifting you up into him by the silky underside of you ass. like second nature, your ankles lock together behind his back, and the gasp that tries to escape your mouth is swallowed as he presses his lips to yours.

at first the kiss is slow and familiar. swiping his tongue across the soft pout of your bottom lip, he welcomes the tastes of the cherry-flavoured lustre. the heat shared between your flushed besides increasingly becomes scorching hot, the shape of you searing into his skin. oikawa wonders if you can feel his heart trying to escape the confines of his heaving chest; when you melt in his hold, delicate hand tracing along the scruff of his jaw as you deepen the kiss. his fingers dig bruises deep in your thighs, grinding you against the taut muscles of his abs.

yet it was when you gently suckled on his tongue, that oikawa submitted himself to you. the guttural sound that escaped the back of his throat was slightly muffled, and only encouraged you further. feeling himself almost being fully consumed by you, oikawa pulls away. breathless - the lewd string of silver connecting your mouths, and the dazed look in your eyes did nothing to calm him.

oikawa may have loved summer, but he loved you even more. so he leans forward again, pressing his damp forehead against your own, your laboured breaths caressing his mouth as he swore to you;

“we’re forever, mi amor. i’m never letting you go, in this time or the next. i love you.”

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[breanime]

The Five Senses: Taste (with Bonus Boy)

This is completely the fault of @thesandbeneathmytoes

warning: steamy!

Billy Russo: Billy was a disciplined man. He made his money his own way, through shedding a lot of blood and morals, so when he got a chance to flaunt that wealth... He did it. Which is how you ended up on your back on his desk, fully naked and on display, as Billy poured 500 dollars worth of champagne on your body. He stood, caged in by your legs, and leaned over your wet body, licking up the champagne that had begun to trickle between your breasts. “Mm,” he hummed, smirking as he lapped up the champagne, “tastes like...” His warm mouth trailed down your body, following the dews of champagne as they rolled down your form until he was right at your center, lightly sucking on your clit. “...perfection.”

Logan Delos: Logan loved the taste of himself on your lips. He kissed you greedily, his tongue sliding against yours; he could taste his own cum on your lips, and he fucking loved it. He pushed you down onto the couch, his hard, warm body covering yours as he kissed you. “You taste like me,” he grinned, settling himself between your open legs, “and I taste like you, don’t I, princess?” “Yes,” you answered, the word coming out in a breathy whisper. Logan pushed three fingers inside of you, curling them as you gasped and arched your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You watched, chest heaving, as Logan withdrew his hand and slid his three dripping fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean for the taste of you. “Delicious.”

Jax Teller: It had been a surprise to Jax, how much he enjoyed licking strawberry lube off of you, but he loved it. He fucking loved it. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, and Jax’s head was firmly between your thighs, licking your pussy as you moaned and shook in his grasp. He grabbed the lube from the side dresser, not even having to look up, and squeezed the bottle, and both of you moaned as you shivered at the feel of the thick gel on you. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’,” Jax growled, smirking against you, “My favorite afternoon snack...” You grabbed onto his hair, pulling the strands as he ate you out, the sounds of his mouth sucking and smacking against you, mixed in with both of your moans, filled the room. Jax had just come home from a run about 15 minutes ago, and you knew your evening was just getting started. 

Coco Cruz: You grabbed onto the headboard in front of you, head thrown back as Coco licked a stripe up your clit. He had you on your hands and knees, his strong hands on your waist as he ate you out from the back. His hair was pulled back into a bun, giving him more access to your wetness, and Coco lapped you up like a starving man. He hadn’t seen you in a week, and as soon as he walked through the door, he had growled out “I need to fucking taste that pussy”...and so here you were. Coco lifted his chin, that long, talented tongue of his swirling around your most sensitive parts, making you scream. You jumped when he puckered his lips on your clit, and Coco smacked your ass as a warning. “Stay still,” he said, his voice muffled by your flesh, “I’m fuckin’ starving, baby.”

Angel Reyes: Angel loved eating you out. He loved making you feel good. He loved having you spread out, like a Goddess, all for him. You were completely naked, and he was fully dressed, situated comfortably between your shivering legs. Angel had lost track of time; he’d been eating your pussy for at least 45 minutes, making you cum until you couldn’t say anything but his name. He himself had cum just from making you cum, and he’d taken a handful of his own cum and spread it against you, licking it up as he ate you out. That had driven you crazy, and you’d orgasmed harder than you’d ever orgasmed before. Now he was taking it down a notch, giving you slow, deliberate licks as you shook around him. “Angel,” you sighed, tears streaming down your face, “My Angel... My Angel...” He grinned, his face wet with your arousal, his rings glittering from your cum, and his mouth eager for more. “I know what you need baby... You need more...”

Miguel Galindo: Miguel’s face was your throne. You rolled your hips on top of him, and he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. Miguel fucking loved eating you like this, loved giving you control: you set the pace, you got to determine how much of yourself you gave to him, and how much you held back. But he knew you, and he knew you’d never hold back from him. Beneath you, Miguel was hard enough to cut diamonds, but he liked that too--the waiting. He licked up into you, enjoying the feel of your wetness gathering in his beard and on his cheeks, he loved the taste of you....He loved that he was the only one who got to taste it. Miguel turned his head a bit, changing up the angle, sneaking a bit of control back from you, but you allowed it. You allowed it, he knew, because it felt so fucking good, his tongue inside of you, his nose pressed up against your most sensitive area. Neither of you spoke; you didn’t have to. Your back-to-back orgasms said all that needed to be said. 

Nick Amaro: Nick’s tongue flicking against your clit was one thing, but the sexy, hushed whispers in Spanish was another. You were shaking, your back was against the headboard, and you leaned over, your breasts leaning on the top of Nick’s head as he ate you out. He’d said it time and time again: he loved the taste of you. He treated it like a personal mission, eating you out, making you cum. He had three fingers inside of you as he licked and sucked at you, whispering how pretty and how sweet you were in Spanish. He moved his head from side to side, chuckling at the low moan you let out at the action. “That feel good, mi amor?” He asked, his mouth still attached to you. You nodded, pulling at his short hair, “Y-yes....” “You taste so damn good, mi vida,” he licked your clit, flicking it under his tongue, grinning at the way you squirmed at the action. You were close, he could tell, and he couldn’t wait to lick you clean. 

Johnny Tuturro: The waves of the ocean hitting the beach weren’t loud enough to muffle your moans. You gripped the towel beneath you in your fists, back arched and mouth open as Johnny ate you out like you were his last meal on earth. Johnny had one hand on your breast, your biking top stretching under his large hand, and the other was on his dick, pumping it as he fucked you with his tongue. You twisted in his grip, his mouth was so wet and warm and perfect, it was all you could do to keep your screams contained, and he wasn’t helping. He wanted you to scream, it enhanced the quality of the taste. “Fuck,” he gasped out, pulling back from you with a wet pop of his mouth, “You taste so good, baby.” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead, he just buried his face between your thighs again, licking into you as you screamed, cumming directly into his waiting mouth. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel his smile against your skin. 

Rio: If there was one thing Rio had in spades: it was patience. He’d been teasing you for an hour now, his long, skilled fingers trailing up and down your warm skin, his mouth devouring you...He was eating you out now, the strokes of his tongue long and slow, making you shiver when he reached your clit. Rio leaned forward, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it. You jumped, and he chuckled, his arm flying out and pushing you back onto the bed. “Chill, ma,” he said, that low, deep voice making you swoon, “I ain’t done...” He licked into you again, and you moaned, a step away from begging. “Taste so good,” he drawled, his voice muffled, “Could eat you every day of the week and never get tired of it...” He pulled back, grinning at you. “That what you want, baby?” “I want you to fuck me,” you breathed out. He laughed, and you watched as that sinful tongue of his came out to lick his wet bottom lip. “Don’t worry, ma, I will...after I finish eatin’.”

Bonus Boy

EZ: There was something about eating you out in the middle of the night that EZ loved. He loved the taste of you, loved the way you still smelled of your body wash, loved the taste of it on your sweet, soft skin. You sighed, so sweetly, as he licked into you. He could do this all day. EZ’s hands were on your thighs, keeping them spread as he ate you out, his strength the only thing keeping you from potentially crushing his head between them. He licked at you carefully, little kitten licks, taking in the taste of you in small bursts, so happy to be able to make you feel good. So happy that you were his. The sun was coming up, and EZ could swear that he could taste the sunlight between your legs. You tasted like freedom, like security...you tasted like love. When you came, crying out as the morning rays filtered through the blinds, EZ opened his mouth and took it all, moaning in tandem with you at the sensation. He sat up, chin glistening, grinning down at you. “So,” he chuckled, taking your outstretched hand in his and kissing the back of it, “Best two out of three?”

*******************************************************************************************Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! And if you really enjoyed it and you can send in a tip here, I would greatly appreciate it!

Also, let me know which sense you’d like me to do next: Smell, Touch, Sight, or Hearing, and what Bonus Boy you’d like to see me do, even if it’s a guy I haven’t written for yet! It can’t always be EZ! And don’t say Felipe lol

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