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frogstappen · 23 days ago

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𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧, 𝐮𝐬

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 2.4k

max keeps up your friendly tradition at the us grand prix.

⚠️: friends with a little something more on the horizon. one teeny mention of throwing up in a sleeping bag. cutesy, fluffy, best pal max.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

The world is alive with a kick only found in Austin.

Cowboy hats and cowgirl boots; star-spangled everything and a roaring reception fit for rock ‘n roll stars. Bloodthirst donned in a bolo tie and winning smile.

You swipe through your camera roll, pinching each photo to read the gimmicky banners and count the bullhorn gestures. Giggling when you spot a grown man with a sign addressed to Lewis: I called in sick to watch you race.

Max glances over his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

You turn your phone.

He squints at the screen, huffing a laugh, then scrolls through some more. “They love and hate with the same passion. It’s actually kind of scary.”

“I love it here.”

You push off the couch and wander over to the window.

The sky is a brilliant blue, dazzling even through the tinted glass. Striking Southern sunlight bounces off each motorhome in the paddock. The lot busies away, polos scurrying from building to building, VIP lanyards shielding their eyes from the sun to take it all in.

Max taps your shoulder with your phone and nods to the door. “C’mon. Time.”

He leads you outside, loosening his elbow to let you slip your arm through his. He turns heads and raises whispers – though none of it seems to bother him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.

He’s already turning inward, already picturing the starting line behind his eyes. He’s thinking tactics and thinking strategies, making mental notes about turns twelve through fifteen; tire degradation and DRS and not saying fuck or shit or driving too close to the car marked 4.

His eyes lift only for a second. He frowns at some photographers up ahead and positions himself in front as you walk. His head ducks again, giving them little more than a winning shot of his Red Bull cap – and he takes your hand.

“Here,” he says, “We can dodge them.”

He cuts between ferns and life-size driver banners, speeding past crowded bistro sets. By the time they clock him – Was that Max Verstap–? – he’s already thin air.

Through one of the backdoors to the garages, Max pulls you down a darkened hallway.

You giggle, trying not to trip over his heels. Cooler, though not by much, you breathe a sigh of relief and rub the starry sunshine from your vision. When you pull your knuckles away from your eyes, you gasp.

Max halts.

“What?” he asks, twisting around. His hand stays locked in yours. “You okay?”

Your nose bumps against his shoulder as you crane to see properly through the sliver of an ajar door.

Behind a throng of serious faces in white shirts and headsets – a table. Three trophies, tall and slender, polished to perfection. Obnoxious, maybe a little – but glamorous and gleaming all the same.

And right in front of them –

“Are those the podium caps?”

Max studies your face for a moment. A smile threatens the corner of his lips, but he fights it down. He follows your eye to the three hats.

He nods. “Looks like it.”

“Denim, Max. That’s so cool.”

“Well, y’know,” he sniffs, giving your hand a light tug, “It is Austin.”

“I don’t have a denim one. Yet.”

He shoots you a look more steel than blue. You don’t have to speak Max Verstappen to know exactly what it means.

You’ve been collecting his race caps – the rare designs, anyway – for as long as he’s been in Formula One. At home, there’s a whole corner of your closet dedicated strictly to Pirelli.

His very first winners’ cap sits proudly on the tallest hook, all the way to the Canadian maple leaf design that made you squeal when he presented it to you.

He knows the ones you’d like, the second he sees them. Eight years’ worth of victories, turned into something even more meaningful.

Granted, there have been a little fewer than normal lately – but sometimes, you like to pretend he’s in that cockpit aiming for first at least in part to see the smile on your face when he fits the cap on your head.

Still. He stares you down.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” he says, walking on. “The car is shit, lately.”

“Language,” you hiss, grinning.

Max shakes his head. “I can still send you home, you know. The race hasn’t started yet.”

He’s only jesting – but annoying him is too much fun.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that. I’m here for sympathy reasons, remember?”

He grunts in response.

Austin wasn’t meant to be on your list this year. It’s one of your favorite grands prix, that’s for sure, but you had planned to miss it this time around on account of the new guy you’d been seeing.

That is – until you called it quits last month.

It had only been a few months – three, if that – but the longer it went on, the more you noticed incompatibilities. Little things, like the way your schedules clashed, or the kinds of places you each liked to hang out.

He was a great guy, and he took it like a champ – which made the bruise sting a little…sharper.

Max let you wallow for three days. He spent a decent chunk of the month’s break after Singapore at your place; ordering you takeout and then refusing to let you pay, waking you up each morning to work out with him. You’d never admit it, but after a while, it got kinda fun.

Then, when it was time to get back to work, he invited you to Austin. You know being there will cheer you up, he said. And besides, I need my lucky charm.

So far – what with the denim Pirelli caps and the front-row qualifying result – he’s fast turning out to be right.

He pauses at the turn into the garage. “How are you, anyway? Feeling distracted?”

You smile, slumping against the wall opposite him. “Very. I forgot how hard this place goes.”

He nods, sipping from his bottle. He glances down the hall towards the echoes of photographers. “Sorry about the…” he waves a dismissive hand, “…Ever since Singapore, they…”

“You don’t think I’m used to it by now, three-time-world-champion?”

He curves his hand around the back of his neck, lips curling. “You wanna watch from the garage again, or upstairs?”

“Upstairs, please. I don’t need another 4D experience of you crashing.”

“Wasn’t exactly fun to me, either,” he says, nudging your arm. He lists directions, reminding you to stay behind the shrubbery to evade the cameras. He makes you swear you’ll text him once you’re seated.

“Do you want my pinkie, or is a blood oath more acceptable?”

“It’s a lot of different tracks, alright? Sometimes even I get lost.”

Your eyes narrow. Liar.

He smirks. “Okay, I don’t. But I also don’t stop to fucking stare at denim hats, so.”

“Go do your job, potty mouth. And drive safe.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it, Max. Just – aim to finish in one piece.”

He pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I’m aiming for a cap,” he says, and swings into the garage.

It’s Ferrari’s race from the opening lap. No other team gets a look-in.

Charles steals the lead from under Lando’s feet, propelling ahead with Carlos in tow to secure an easy one-two for the Prancing Horse. They hold fast the entire race and – though they are, in theory, two of your best friend’s current enemies – they nail it.

You know that, when you find each other later, Max will tell you the same. He’s never a sore loser when simply lovely racing is involved.

Fifty-six laps and five and a half kilometers later, you’re watching him on the podium.

Well. You’re watching your next collector’s item – on his head – on the podium.

Third place isn’t too shabby for a man perpetually fighting his machine – and even he looks relieved just to be up there. He glances down as the Monégasque national anthem plays, and tilts his head purposefully.

You grin up at him, eyebrows raised. I see it, you send telepathically. I’ve chosen its hook already.

Max is careful not to let it become too soaked during the champagne spraying. He ducks out of Charles’s path, aims his own at Carlos’s back. He’s the first to tip the bottle against his lips and drink, and the others quickly follow suit.

There’s probably a grilling waiting for him in the press tent. Was Norris’s five-second penalty just? How did the car feel during that battle? Do you see the rear-end of a McLaren when you close your eyes at night?

You take the opportunity while the paddock is still quiet to sneak back to his motorhome, falling back onto the double bed. There’s a flatscreen on the wall opposite you; a crystal vase of roses on the marble counter beneath.

Some days you have to remind yourself that, behind all the titles and trophies and treasure – he’s still the same kid who ate so much candy at your eighth birthday party that he threw up in his sleeping bag.

Behind all of it, he’s still Max. Your Max.

Says you can have a go at his racing simulator, then laughs while you fight with the controls. Says he’ll pick you up after a night out, then takes voice recordings of your drunken babbling to play back to your hungover self.

Says, He was a nice guy, but you’re going to be okay – and invites you to Austin to take your mind off it.

You’re watching some real estate show under eyes heavy with sleep when the motorhome door clicks open.

His shadow sways down the narrow trailer, and he materializes at the foot of the bed.

“Hello.”

You lift your head. “Hello, yourself.”

He takes your wrists and pulls you upright, scooping you in a strong hug. He’s soaked in sweat and champagne, race suit hanging from his hips, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway.

His hair is damp, cheeks flushed and heated. His stubble scrapes your skin. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and sighs.

“Thinking of moving to Mexico?” he murmurs into your shoulder, turning to look at the screen.

“The remote was on the other side of the room. I’m tired.”

“Me, too,” he says. He pulls back.

You take his jaw in your hands. “You did so good,” you whisper, thumbs smoothing the lines his balaclava has left behind. “That battle with Lando – I thought – maybe –”

He scoffs, lazy smirk pulling across his face. “Nah. Light work.”

It warrants the knock you deal his bicep.

Max laughs. “Oh,” he says, and reaches behind his back. From the waistband of his suit, he pulls a slightly dented, very drenched third-place cap. He straightens out the material. “Took it off as soon as we got backstage. Didn’t want my hair to make it all sweaty.”

You take it from his hands delicately, grinning from ear to ear as you tilt it in the light. “It’s so fucking cool, Max.”

He hums. “Here.”

He handles it with the same care you did, for the sole reason that it means this much to you – and Max knows it. With a gentle smile, eyes flitting from yours to your lips, he places the cap over your head and straightens it into place.

“There,” he steps back, “You just won third place at Circuit of the Americas.”

You giggle, turning to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “Oh my God, I look so goofy.”

“No you don’t,” Max replies, standing behind your reflection. “You suit it better than I do.”

There’s a beat – a moment, stood against his chest, eyes locked and hearts aligned. You lean back on your heels, and he perches his chin soft on your head.

His hands find your shoulders. “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” he says. “Do you want to head back to the hotel now, or –?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll wait for you.”

“’kay,” he whispers. He lingers, still scanning the sight before him. Hands still on your body, squeezing in time with your hammering heartbeat.

Probably taking in the oddity of the entire thing, the same way you are. The two of you framed in the mirror, no closer than you spend most days, and somehow – the closest you’ve ever felt him.

Your Max. Who once caught wind that you had a crush on one of the kids in class, and teased you all summer long for it. Who once gatecrashed your horror movie night with Victoria; burst out of the closet in a Ghostface mask, screaming bloody murder.

It’s exactly the kind of feeling you’d text him for advice on. Hey, what do you think about this? I had butterflies today, standing next to this guy.

Exactly the kind of thing that he’d reply with, Does he know you cry at animated movies?

Does he know you say good morning to the birds?

Does he know you burn pancakes anytime you try to make them?

Yes, you’d send. And he doesn’t mind any of it.

Max takes the visor of your cap between his fingers and turns it. “This way for when you’re feeling fancy,” he says, laughing at his own joke the way he always does.

You breathe a relieved laugh of your own. “Sure,” you reply, shaking that feeling free. You turn, hands light on his forearms. Your gaze climbs from his chest to his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, staring into the oceanic home you’ve known since you were a kid. “I’m really glad I came. You, uh…I don’t know what I’d do without you, Max.”

He shrugs – never one to take a compliment without wrestling with it first. “’s not about me,” he replies, tapping your nose with his knuckle. He swallows, shifting between feet, before his chest fills with a deep breath. “Let me take you to dinner. As a thanks for coming, obviously.”

“You mean the hat isn’t my thanks?”

He shakes his head. “I can do better than a smelly denim hat.”

“I’ll bet you can, Verstappen.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1 #my writing #fic: austin us #f1blr #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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totothewolff · 4 months ago

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Daddy's Little Pet

+18 | one shot | Toto x reader | smut, daddy kink, size kink, power play.

Summary: You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life. Author's note: As a reply to the request made by @ xoxo_lily at The Wolff Pack Discord Server.

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

The second you entered the empty boardroom where Toto was waiting for you, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Your heart pounded hard as you gazed at the well-dressed boss. Toto's tall, big, powerful muscled silhouette claimed your eyes immediately. He looked even more massive in person.

A hiss of nervousness curled in your stomach as you approached the table while grabbing the seat next to him.

When he slid his chair to face you, just centimeters apart from you, you felt tiny. Even though both of you were sat down he towered over you with a notorious difference.

Oh, if you could bury your head in that broad and muscular chest in front of you.

Since Toto's aura of power mesmerized you, and your curiosity and attraction for him piqued, you decided to do an article on him for the upcoming issue of GearGrl.

Armed with a script and a microphone, you made your way to his private boardroom, where he takes video calls and deals with sponsors, press, and guests.

The smell of polished oak and leather filled the air, creating an alluring scent that is as arousing for you as the man himself.

His piercing eyes sized you up the second the door swung open and you stepped in.

You extended your hand at him, trying to hide the trembling nerves, rocking a bit in your chair. "Mr. Wolff, my name's Y/N. I'm a journalist from GearGrl magazine, and I'd love to chat with you for a feature article," you smiled, hoping this would ease your tension but went all the way around, the minute Toto placed his big warm hand on yours your mind went wild.

Toto's hand is double size yours. Fuck! He only added a little pressure on the handshake and you are already wetting yourself.

What would be like to have his entire body weight crushing you down against the sheets?

Toto's gaze shifted from your body towards your hand, squeezing it a bit. "Nice to meet you, little one. I don't have much time today. But, if you have specific questions about our team strategy or sponsorships, I'll be glad to answer," he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You swallowed hard and decided to push your luck. You tilted your chin upwards, meeting his gaze with a newfound boldness, he stared down at you due to the height difference, and a little smirk formed on his lips before you dared.

"Actually, I was hoping to pepper you with some questions about your life beyond the track. Your passions, your hobbies, that sort of thing."

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before they narrowed on you. "I don't see how that is relevant to the teams' performance or our supporters," he said, his words snipped.

"Well, I believe that a man as influential as yourself, Toto, has a life worth exploring. Your devoted fans crave a glimpse into your world, and this interview would offer them just that."

The corner of his mouth twitched in a rueful half-smile as if you had struck a nerve. "Smart move, little one."

Then you pushed again, "Also you could inspire young enthusiasts by offering them a picture of a well-rounded individual."

"My stories might not paint the perfect picture.

I have made mistakes and faced challenges along the way," he warned you.

"No one is perfect, Toto, and that's what makes humans interesting." you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity in full bloom. Toto shifted his position and relaxed his body, sensing you getting closer. His big muscular tights spread a bit, and he rested his big hands on them.

"What kind of challenges did you face, if I may ask, Toto?" you dare.

A heavy sigh, "When I first took over as the TP at Williams, many doubted my capabilities. They saw me as nothing but a reckless, inexperienced playboy. But the team rallying behind me and our eventual success at the track fueled my persistence," Toto explained, his gaze lost in your lips. "I've fought battles at work and in my personal life, learning valuable lessons along the way."

Intrigued by his reveal, you asked, "Can you tell me about those battles in your personal life?"

"I don't know if my personal trials will make a good story. Still, there's one I could mention. When my monogamist first marriage began to crumble, my focus on building my career inadvertently added fuel to that fire. I found myself alone and devastated, with my kids miles away in a boarding school," Toto said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Immersed in his story, you wanted to know more. "Did finding love again play a role in your healing process and later success?"

He took a long moment before meeting your eyes again, the intensity of his stare was crazy. "Yes, love found me just when I needed it the most. I met a woman named Susie, who was warm, inviting, and able to understand my urges." The emphasis and deep voice Toto made saying those words, provoked you to quiver. "The ones my previous partners never could." He chuckled softly. "I'm not sure if it was fate or sheer luck."

"Your urges?" your voice echoed throughout the empty room, drowned only by the sound of your accelerated heartbeats.

"I have a constant hunger not only for winning, I..." his eyes are already lifting your skirt.

"What do you crave for?" your voice trembled, enjoying the forthcoming invitation.

"I can show you" his voice was deep and one of his long big fingers was already playing with the hem of your skirt.

Then you dare to intertwine your hand with Toto's as a "yes, please show me", you wanted so badly to lick those big long fingers of his and feel them inside your tiny pussy fingering you relentlessly. His Rolex watch sparkled under the lights and the ring on his right hand shined.

The conversation took an unexpectedly intimate turn. You couldn't explain it, but there was something about the way Toto spoke that tugged at your deepest desires.

Perhaps it was the boldness of the thing he just revealed, that Susie allowed him to have his cravings.

Whatever it was, you couldn't deny your body's response to his words. Every pulse of your heart echoed in your pussy, leaving you flushed and yearning.

You had come to Brackley expecting a generic interview, not a deep dive into Toto's lovemaking life.

He guided you by the hand back to his office and onto the bulky trendy sofa. He pushed you down on it with ease, as if you were paper-thin.

"I won't be an easy lover to forget. But I don't do commitment or romance, only with Susie" he said.

You nodded in understanding, giving him what could only be described as a sultry smile. You wanted him to know you understood well what both of you were up for.

"My little pet" he growled before reaching for you. Your whole body trembled with anticipation as he touched your face gently, swiping his thumb across your lips. Toto was on his feet, making you feel even more small.

You parted your lips slightly, licking his thumb finger, the throbbing in your pussy escalating to an unbearable level.

Toto took this as his cue and pulled you closer, shifting your position with a firm and quick grip, leaving you now knees on the sofa and ass pinned against him.

Lifting your skirt, he rubbed himself against your tiny panties. Oh, the way he manhandles you!

You could feel his hardness pressed against your ass, his arousal evident. He lowered his lips to your ear, whispering huskily, "So you wanted a peek into the raw and real Toto Wolff? I warn you I will not hold back, my little pet." His gaze held yours with the confidence of a predator filling its hunger, and you licked your lips, letting him know you were ready for him.

Toto snaked his hand around, tangling his fingers through your hair, roughly tugging your head back to expose the hollow of your throat.

Your pulse hammered wildly under his harsh caresses as he trailed his lips from your jawline to that sensitive dip.

"Fuck," you gasped, unable to contain the reaction to his touch, knowing this was reckless, zero professional, and wrong but too far gone to care.

Despite his warning, you wanted Toto in a way that defied all logic and you were eager to prove you could handle whatever he gave you.

You could feel his erection trapped against the zipper of his pants. Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, popping the fastener of his trousers. In one swift motion, you pushed his pants and boxers down.

His cock sprung free, thick and long, jutting out from a pair of toned, muscular thighs. The sight of him left you breathless and overwhelmed with lust.

"Fuck, you are going to destroy my pussy with that cock!" you whispered.

He smiled smugly, obviously pleased with your reaction.

You couldn't help but stare as he stood there, completely naked and unabashed. He looked like a Greek god, powerful, perfectly sculpted, and unapologetically male.

"I think I deserve a bit of a peak into your personal side too," Toto murmured, his eyes alight with playfulness. His words caught you off guard, and you raised your eyebrows playfully.

"Remember when I thought I was here for work?" you said and chucked.

"Come suck me, pet" he gestured to you, and you immediately turned around, your ass now on the couch, sitting right in front of him, his dick at your face level due to your height difference.

You started gripping the solid length of Toto's aroused cock, you curved your fingers around him, stroking him gently, eager to satisfy his desperation.

Toto sucked a breath between his teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as you pumped your hand along his length. Your hand looked tiny around his fat cock. Getting already nervous about how would you fit that thing inside your mouth.

Toto's hand gripped the base of his cock, guiding it towards your lips. "Open wide," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. Hunger burned in his gaze, and you could practically see the animal instincts of the man taking over. "Suck my cock," he demanded you, the forcefulness of his words sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You parted your lips as wide as possible, allowing him to slide his length into your mouth. You gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

Toto let out a low groan of satisfaction, his hips thrusting forward as he began to fuck your mouth.

You could feel his cock slid deeper, stretching you past the point of comfort. But you weren't complaining.

His salty taste filled your mouth, making you moan your approval. Toto slid his hands into your hair, gripping it tightly as he fucked your mouth in earnest.

You gagged again, but this time you didn't try to pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, taking him deeper into your mouth. You could feel him swell even further, and you slid your tongue along his shaft, creatively slurping at him.

Your eyes were so watery by now, but you didn't dare stop. You'd never seen a man look so entranced as Toto did at this moment, his eyes hooded and head rolled back in the pleasure of your mouth on him.

"Fuck, you take me so good, pet" he grunted, hips thrusting as his length slid in and out of your hot, wet mouth. "Keep going, my little pet, just like that."

You continued to pleasure him in this way until he suddenly pulled away with a hiss. Pre-cum glistened on your lips as you blinked up at him, seeking his approval, he looked so proud of you.

You looked like a total mess, all red on the cheeks, saliva all over your chin, watery eyes, and messy hair.

"Now to the couch, pet" he whispered darkly as he bent, lifting you with ease and tossing you onto the sofa.

You bounced once and landed right in the center.

The air left your lungs as he climbed on top of you, towering over you in all his glory, pushing your body against the fabric, your stomach and hips feeling the pain of Toto's body prisoning you.

His strong arms cupped your head, tilting your face towards his. Toto leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You gasped as his tongue delved between your lips, tilting your head to receive it, your fingers dragging up the muscles in his arms, tracing his veins, he tasted like espresso and the faint scent of stale mint, a carnal, masculine flavor that left you panting and breathless.

Your kiss deepened as he moved away, nibbling at your lips and the sensitive skin beneath your ear, causing you to whimper, with delight.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your curves and leaving behind a burning trail of where his mouth would follow.

"Toto, please," you begged, desperately craving to feel him inside you. Your mind was full of desire, and all you could concentrate on was the hard friction his erect cock set off through your body.

No response at the call of his name, so you dared.

"Daddy, please," you moaned, squirming beneath him. Immediately his hands pinned yours to the sofa. You arched into his touch, savoring the way he finally was exposing you, getting out of the way all clothing items between you.

Toto's gaze immediately fell between your legs, hungry and unyielding, lust radiated off him, staring at your wet folds.

His free hand caressed your breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You couldn't help but gasp as he explored you.

You could feel the dampness spreading along your thighs, revealing just how much Toto excited you. Your breath hitched as he moved lower, circling his thumb around your clit.

"Oh, Daddy," you cried out, your voice barely more than a whimper.

A low growl escaped his throat before he replaced his thumb with two fingers, pushing them inside you, tasting, teasing, and sending you into a whirlwind of emotions.

He fingered you hard, getting you wet and splashing drops around and provoking soaking sounds, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

The mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you was dizzying, till you were completely out of breath and begging him to allow you a breather.

Before the head of his big cock burst through the barrier of your tight entrance, stretching your pussy wider than you ever thought possible. Your eyes went wide as you felt him penetrating you.

You gasped, feeling the intense sensation of being filled to the brim. "Daddy!" you moan loud, your pussy throbbed around his cock as it slid in further. "Daddy!"

Toto growled a low, animalistic sound that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back slightly, then thrust you again and harder, this time driving deeper, ripping open your tight pussy even more.

You cried out, a mix of discomfort and delight coursing through you as he took you, possessing you in a way you only had dreamt of.

"Fuck, you're so tight, pet," he grunted, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is so fucking tiny."

His cock slammed into you relentlessly, and you moaned in pleasure with each rough thrust, feeling your body buried more and more. Your stomach pressed hard against the furniture's fabric. You felt the sofa creaking.

Toto's fingers dug into your hips, leaving angry red marks on your skin. You wouldn't have it any other way.

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass. You clung to the sofa, your nails digging into the textile as he pounded you harder and harder.

You let out a strangled cry as he hit the spot deep inside you. His name spilled from your lips, a desperate plea for more.

Toto responded by increasing the pace of his pounding, his cock hitting you with a savage, powerful intensity that started to hurt. You will be limping tomorrow.

You could feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you open.

With your lips locked in a fiery kiss, you felt a wave of moisture flood between your legs in anticipation of your climax.

"Such a good little pet" he growled, his voice thick with lust. You kept feeling the sensitive humid folds of your pussy stretch to accommodate him, engulfing him inch by delicious inch.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, teetering on the edge of release, your body tensing as you got closer and closer.

"Daddy, please, I can't take much more of this." you moaned, gasping for air, buried under his entire weight.

He pulled back, his cock coming free with a slick, wet sound. You felt a surge of disappointment and confusion, but before you could even begin to process what had happened, he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over.

Your hands and back landed roughly on the couch as Toto pulled your hips up, his big hands grabbing your ass tightly and pushing you towards him with such force. The change in position left you feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable, your pussy slit in full display for him.

Toto stepped closer, his hard cock brushing against your slit. You could feel the heat radiating from his length as he leaned down, his hips hovering above your pussy. "You want daddy to fuck his little pet like this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, daddy. I need to cum."

"Good pet," he murmured, his voice full of lust.

With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, making you cry out in pleasure-pain. Your muscles stretched and clenched around him, struggling to accommodate his girth.

Toto didn't give you a moment to adjust, pulling almost all the way in, and then out, before slamming back into you.

You were still sensitive from the earlier fucking, and you whimpered at the unexpected intensity.

"Oh, fuck, pet" Toto grunted, his fingers digging into your hips, rocking you towards him. He started pistoning into you, his massive cock splitting you wide open again, filling you completely.

With each thrust, you could feel yourself losing control, your sanity slipping away as he dominated you. Toto's powerful big hands gripped your small hips, pulling you back into him.

"Fuck, you wanted this, my little pet, don't you," Toto growled, his breath hot. "I can feel you clenching around me, trying to milk my cock. You're such a little slut, aren't you? Taking my cock like this and begging Daddy for more." Toto grunted, his balls smacking against your clit.

You could feel yourself getting close to the edge, your toes curling with each punishing thrust. "Yes, yes, oh god yeah!" you cried out, your voice hoarse from the pleasure-pain of being so thoroughly fucked.

Toto seemed to take this as a sign to speed up, you could feel him hitting your cervix with every stroke, a painful pleasure to possess you entirely.

"Yes, oh fuck yes, Daddy!" you screamed, your voice echoed through the office.

Your body began to tingle all over, a sure sign that you were close to orgasm. You held on to the sofa edge.

Toto's thrusting became erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own release. You could feel your climax building, every nerve ending trembling with the anticipation of release.

"Come for me, pet," Toto groaned.

Your legs were shaking, your muscles trembling, but you held on, desperate to cling to this incredible moment with every fiber of your being.

The room seemed to spin as you tried to focus on the sensation of Toto's cock as it filled you, pounding your body with a raw force that left you feeling small and powerless.

His fingers twisted in your hair as he traced your jaw with his tongue while his cock slid in and out of you.

You let out a moan as he angled himself deeper inside you, hitting your G-spot dead on. He started moving his hips in a slow grind, pressing every inch of himself against your inner walls.

"I bet you feel my dick stretching you? You like it when daddy owns you like this, hmm?"

You could only nod, unable to form coherent words as you submitted to him.

Toto's hand reached down, two fingers teasing your clit in time with his powerful thrusts. You arched your back, impaling yourself even further onto his hard shaft, urging him to continue the delicious torment.

He obliged instantly, expertly manipulating your clit as his cock ravaged your pussy, your hips bucking into every forceful thrust. Your pussy clenched and unclenched, desperately trying to hold onto him.

"Daddy, I'm cumming," you gasped.

Toto's thrusting became even more unhinged, his sweat-slicked body slapping against yours. You could feel him pulsing inside you, and you knew he was holding back too, waiting for you to go over the edge first.

"Fuck, call me daddy when you come," Toto groaned, his voice a guttural growl.

You felt your orgasm arriving, your muscles tensing as you let out a guttural cry. "Oh, daddy!" you moaned hard, as you finally came apart.

Toto groaned, his hips bucking as he sank himself to the hilt inside you, the pulse of your orgasm milked him, coaxing him closer and closer to his own release.

"Fuck, pet," he panted. "I'm so fucking close."

"Fill me up, Daddy," you gasped, still riding the waves of your orgasm. "Give it to me."

Toto's whole body tensed. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and let out a primal roar as he came hard.

You could feel the hot sprays of his release filling you up, and you moaned in pleasure as he emptied himself into you. Toto's cock throbbed and pulsed.

You stayed like that for a moment, your bodies heaving and trembling as you rode out the aftershocks of our intense climaxes.

Toto's body weight lifted from you, his sweaty chest pushing away slowly, as he reluctantly pulled out of you.

Your pussy throbbed and pulsed where he had filled it moments before, and you could feel his cum still trickling out of you, slicking up your inner thighs. You could feel the sweat drying on your skin, and your heartbeat beginning to return to normal.

"You were incredible, pet. I knew you would be, from the moment you entered." Toto said.

You smiled, still catching your breath as the words of praise washed over you like a warm embrace.

"I know, I'm daddy's little pet, after all."

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

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biteofcherry · 23 days ago

Text

Viper's snare

naga!Lloyd Hansen x female reader

summary: You doubted any of the people visiting Scaretale did it because of their anxiety. There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume.

warnings: naga!Lloyd; dark!Lloyd; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; bondage (of snake tail sorts); constriction; snake venom causing paralysis; oral (f receiving); two cocks; double penetration; cockwarming; unprotected sex; smidge of degradation; praise; symptoms of anxiety;

word count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I thought I wouldn't write anything more hot and monstrous than Ari or Steve in the Scaretale universe, but Lloyd took me by complete surprise 😳I was not prepared for him. And you are definitely not prepared for him, either. Rip all our holes.

You paused right on the steps of the Scaretale. Breathe in. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four. Breathe out. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four.

Feeling a little bit anxious before entering a club full of various monsters was completely normal and understandable, you told yourself. You had no idea what exactly awaited, how many there would be, how big and scary.

It was a success you made it this far without cowering and running back home. But you were determined. Scared, but determined.

Or maybe you were just fed up with the constant disappointment and judgment you got from most human men. You didn’t want to generalize, your dad was good and understanding, but the guys you dated (so definitely your father didn’t count in that pool) let you down in that one, vulnerable aspect.

You would maybe get it, if you had some hardcore kinks they were too scared to fulfill. That wasn’t the case, however.

Honestly, you were pretty boring and average in that department. You liked missionary. You liked cockwarming; oh, did that count as kink? You didn’t think so. Prone bone was great, too.

Any position where the partner would crush you down.

If it was limited only to sex, maybe your exes would roll with it and never withdraw. The thing was, that need stretched beyond only sexual encounters.

Your therapist said that you had the mental brain part of anxiety reined in - you learned and used all the techniques, you bravely disconnected from using cognitive avoidance strategies, you understood your anxiety and even chilled out with the bitch. However, there was also the biochemical part of the brain responsible for that reaction.

It was that messy chemistry in your brain, which sometimes made your body shake and feel too tense. Being tightly held was the instant relief.

Which is why you loved your weighted blanket; why you slept wrapped in a duvet like a burrito; why you wanted your partners to hold you so tight they could suffocate you. That exact part appeared to be a burden worse to bear than if you asked them to slap you around. Because you didn’t just need a sweet cuddle. You wanted that hold to be really, really tight.

Despair, or maybe it was logical thinking, led you to the Scaretale. If human men couldn’t provide you what you needed, maybe a huge, muscly monster would. With the size and mass of some of them, perhaps their regular hug was the vice you needed to feel.

But it was still scary, entering the mysterious club. Would you find yourself disappointed, if only some gentle fae was interested in you? Then again, maybe they had better drugs, which would help instead of deadly cuddling.

The composition of softest sounds that greeted you upon entering, was a surprise. A combination of very hushed tones, melodic tinkling of glasses, an echo of Pan’s flute hanging in the air. It reminded you of the ambient music you often listened to.

The club was filled with dimmed, glowing light. Jewel tones on the walls, floor and ceiling felt like an expensive, cozy duvet. It would appear one of the most comforting of spaces, if not for the chill that crept beneath your skin. Usually you’d blame it on your anxiety, but there was something more to the sensation now. As if your instincts weren’t just exaggerating, instead awakening a very primal self-preservation mode.

The space felt safe, but what awaited you wasn’t.

Swallowing nervously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked around. A few curious gazes were taking in your form, but they weren’t the ones who tickled your survival instinct.

You’d still be wary around that charmingly smiling merman - who had his human form on, but you recognized his species by the pointy ears, a shimmer of delicate scales framing his cheekbones, and a necklace of seashells and amber. He had the looks of a handsome, sweet guy you’d meet-cute in a grocery store, or a library, but who’d sweep you into the depths of his secluded cave and devour you. Maybe even literally.

Though his gaze followed you as you stepped through the club, it wasn’t his attention that started that quivering in your fingers. To be honest, you were becoming really scared of finding out who caused that.

There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume.

Deciding it was the peak of your bravery, you promptly turned on your heel to run away from this place. But there was no door to exit through.

Or maybe they moved somewhere, because all you had in front of you was a round alcove lit up with drops of glowing light so unlike the rest of the lamps in the Scaretale. Not a soft yellow, but almost red. Like heating lamps.

There was no booth, or a sofa, or chairs, but pillows upon pillows upon pillows. On which rested a shimmering black coil of enormous reptilian tale.

Its very tip was easily the size of your forearm. As it stretched upwards the size of it thickened, surpassing the size of human hips. Where said hips should be, the curve of the snake’s tale gradually transformed into a male’s belly and chest. His abdominal muscles were so well defined; his biceps were thick and big, too, even as he had his arms lazily spread on the pile of pillows.

He was a naga, you realized.

While most naga were said to have green or gold coloring of their tails, this one had black. Though each scale seemed to have an iridescent effect, fascinating the gaze with a dark rainbow of colors catching light.

Your eyes slowly moved over his terrifying form. You were so damn scared of snakes!

It was that fear freezing you in place that held you captive. At least at first, before your eyes finally reached the monster’s face.

He was handsome. In a lethal kind of way. Mustache was never a feature you found attractive, but on him it looked good. Sinister, but good. Hair on the sides of his head were cropped short, but the middle part was a coif of silky dark strands.

Then there were his eyes. An opalescent kind of dark blue. With the black pupil in a reptilian vertical shape.

That pupil seemed to widen for a split of a second, before narrowing and your own gaze felt somehow caught by it. You were unable to move your gaze away. Time seemed to slow down, reality around you melted away. But it was still just a second. One that stretched into eternity as you stayed mesmerized by the naga, but which was enough for his ultra fast moves.

His tail snapped towards you, coiling around your legs and snatching you forward to him.

A scream left your lips, but no one in the club reacted.

He drew you into the alcove, weaving his thick tail around your body; including trapping your arms at your sides. You felt warmth seeping into your skin, relaxing and comforting your muscles. Was it from the heating lamps glowing above, or from his proximity, you weren’t sure.

“Please, let me go.” Your voice wavered on a hushed whisper.

“Shh.” He cooed, tightening his snare. “It’s okay, little mouse. I saw you trembling with fear and just wanted to help. Give you a reassuring hug, you see.”

His sympathy was a wicked mockery, but there was something more terrifying to it - the unexpected realization that his hold around your body was actually providing said reassurance.

You were scared of him, of how he could hurt you, but that shivering your brain tended to induce was subsiding faster than when you snuggled under your weighted blanket.

“Such a pretty thing.” He mused, tightening and releasing the muscles in his tail which gave you a sensation of it rubbing against your body. “What’s your name, Mousekin?”

You answered, looking up at him with teary eyes; pleading for him to release you. He didn’t seem to be interested in even acknowledging that issue. Holding you still in his crushing grip, he reached his hand to caress your cheek.

“Lovely. I’m Lloyd.” He introduced himself. “Seems to me like you’re a woman who enjoys a good cuddle.” As if to emphasize that, he squeezed you tighter, almost constricting your lungs for a brief moment. “Ain’t that just perfect that I enjoy it, too?”

His eyes sparked with dark mischief, his lips curving in a sinister smirk.

Your cuddling preferences and his weren’t on the same spectrum, far from it. Yet the strength with which he crushed your fragile body gave you that sense of safety and comfort, after which your body so often longed like a drug addict in withdrawal.

“I don’t-” you wanted to politely excuse yourself from the situation, because as much as your body liked the feeling of being held tightly, you knew it wasn’t safe for you to let it unfold further.

“Why don’t I help you relax more, huh?” Lloyd spoke, as if you didn’t utter a single word.

His hand, which stroked your cheek, moved to cup your chin. His grip tightened, rending your face immobile. With his thumb and forefinger he pressed on a particular spot in your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth.

With eyes widening in fear, you watched him lean closer. His lips parted and white, shiny teeth appeared. One of his teeth elongated and a drop of shiny, golden liquid gathered on its tip.

Some snakes were venomous. Was he going to kill you?

Lloyd pressed his lips to yours; not kissing you. Your mouth tingled where his touched it, but otherwise there was no sensation. Until that drop from his fang fell down onto your tongue. The substance coated your appendage with burning sweetness. That sensation spread rapidly, taking over your whole body from the inside.

He pulled back, with a grin observing as realization dawned on you. It wasn’t visible on your face alone, since all your muscles deliciously relaxed, but your beautiful, big eyes shone in fear.

His venom paralyzed you. Only the muscles which could get in his way, before he managed to break you into sweetly compliant. Some day in the future he won’t need to drug you to have you boneless and accepting of whatever he did to your body.

“There you go,” he cooed, running his hands down your limp arms. “All soft and lax. And so warm from within, ain’t you, my cute Mousekin?”

You felt that burning effect of venom melt into heat that spread through each of your limbs, filling your abdomen with tingling warmth. Your pussy fluttered, wetting slightly as the neurotoxin messed with your brain.

“Let’s help you out of those unnecessary constrictions.” Lloyd hummed so sweetly, turning his actions into more sick and twisted as he started unbuttoning your flowery dress.

You wanted to protest, but your throat was able to produce only a tiny, barely audible whimper. Your tongue laid unmoving. You couldn’t move a single part of your body, though you felt it responding to Lloyd’s ministrations.

Your nipples hardened when he exposed your breasts and a gust of air grazed them. The way his eyes were greedily mapping out every inch of your body pooled more wetness between your thighs.

He eased the grip of his tail only enough to peel your dress away. Then the scales brushed against your naked skin, evoking a completely new sensation that zapped through your pliant body; straight to your clit.

“What a stunning, sweet Mousekin I have caught.” Lloyd sighed in not-entirely-fake admiration, as he took your naked form in.

“Let me take a good look all over.” Something darker flashed in his eyes and his tail coiled around you tighter. Then your body was being lifted off the floor.

Holding you in the air, Lloyd drew your body closer to his torso. His tail shifted, more of it winding around your upper body, while leaving your bottom half exposed. Your legs were limp, they parted so easily when he used his hands to grip below your knees and spread them wide.

“Ohh,” he licked his lips hungrily, “such a moist, tasty snack.”

He brought his mouth near your center, scenting along the juncture of your thigh first. Then his tongue flicked out; longer than human and forked at the end.

A cry wanted to rip out of your lungs, but stayed buried within, when Lloyd swiped his tongue between your folds. If not for the paralysis, your entire body would violently shake in response to the surge of pleasure.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit, you felt the jolt bring tears to your eyes. Most overwhelming, happy tears. Because his forked tongue teased both sides of your swollen pearl at once, providing a stimulation nothing else ever came close to.

Slick poured out of you in a thankful gush. Which Lloyd greeted with a chuckle, then smashed your brain into a pulp slithering his tongue into your dripping hole.

It was softer than any toy, or finger, but moved with a maddening wiggle.

Your pussy spasmed. Perhaps, it was for the best that your vocal cords were switched off for the moment, because the sounds you would make from that stimulation had to be inhuman.

“Delicious.” Lloyd licked his lips lewdly as he slowly lowered your body down.

Inwardly, you felt as if your body was twitching, edged with unbearable pleasure; though you were aware not a single finger of yours moved, still under the influence of his venom.

Holding your legs wide apart, Lloyd moved your pelvis back and forth against the thickest part of his tail. Right where you’d expect…

Air stuck in your lungs, a strangled sound bubbling out of your open mouth when you felt a defined hardness slipping between your folds. You haven’t seen his cock before when you looked over his body, but the shape of it pressing into your most intimate part was unmistakable.

There was just one thing not right about it.

Because you felt the thick, veiny length spreading your folds to rub against your clit, but also felt the same shape nudged between your buttocks.

“Ah!” Lloyd tutted, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re not familiar with naga’s anatomy, Mousekin.”

He traced the outline of your lips with his fingertips. Your tongue could now move a tiny bit, only minimally, and it responded when his fingers slid into your mouth. Just a twitch. Lloyd tugged on it gently, drawing your tongue out to rest on your bottom lip. Saliva pooled down it, slowly dripping onto your chin, then lower still: onto your chest and Lloyd’s tail.

“We-” his warm breath puffed against your open mouth- “have-” his tongue flicked against yours- “two-” he rocked you against his hardness- “cocks.”

Your pupils widened. More drool dribbled out of your mouth as garbled sounds bounced against the roof of your mouth. That’s why he was so obscenely grinding you back and forth against him, so that your slick coated two dicks.

“Exciting, right?” Lloyd chuckled; his tail increased its constricting pressure on your body.

“Two cocks for your two, tight holes.”

Slowly, he pulled you down.

The strength in his tail was beyond what you could physically fight even if you had the full mobility of your body, so it held you down easily. Lloyd’s big hands dug into the soft meat of your thighs. His own muscles constricted as he rutted up into you, forcing his cocks into your holes.

Your pussy opened easier, though it was still a stretch considering his girth. Your rim resisted, but Lloyd was merciless. A choked cry vibrated in your throat when his dick breached in.

He didn’t pause once, continuing a firm stroke. Shamelessly, Lloyd groaned out loud his pleasure as he filled you. His sounds were nearly pornographic the deeper he went and the more your walls struggled.

When he bottomed out, he moaned, tilting his head back. Veins on his neck throbbed. As did the cocks inside of you.

“So good, Mousekin.” He praised, returning his gaze to you. “You’re so hot and tight around me. Just like we both like the most.”

His tail slithered around your torso, giving you a tighter squeeze. You hated how much your body enjoyed the constriction. You were overwhelmed with being impaled, stretched and filled; being taken against your consent; but you still felt comfort and safety in the way he was holding you.

“You’re a perfect cocksleeve,” Lloyd cupped your face with both hands and leaned in.

With your tongue poking out and muscles still mostly numbed, you couldn’t respond to his obscene kiss. But you felt your lips tingling and your tongue twitching as Lloyd’s forked one swiped against it, before plunging into your mouth.

When he withdrew, more of your saliva dropped down onto your torso. Where your breasts swell with arousal, heavy roundness resting atop the snake’s tail that weaved around your ribs.

Lloyd’s fingers danced down the column of your neck and lower. He smeared around trickles of your saliva, rubbed it into your stiffened nipples, then pinched. Your walls clenched in response.

“I’m going to get addicted to the way your walls hug me.” He groaned in delight. “Will have you cockwarming me for hours, mousekin. Keep you tied to me, so that your fragile, anxious body can fully relax and focus on being filled.”

You hated how right he was. For the past long minutes not once has your mind ignited with fear of being killed, or maimed, but all the focus was on basic primal sensations. How intense, but good it was to feel him deep inside of you. How lax and lazy your usually tense body was.

“Let’s use you whole, my little cocksleeve,” Lloyd hummed and his tail brushed against your naked skin as he stretched his coil further.

His tail moved up around you, weaving around your shoulders and the back of your head. Until the very tip tapped your cheek.

Then it slid right against your open mouth.

It was too wide to force itself into your mouth, but Lloyd stroked it back and forth over your tongue that was sticking out.

At the same time, his hands slid up your thighs. With his thumbs, he brushed your parted, swollen folds. Touched you where one of his cocks speared into your cunt. Then his thumbs pressed on both sides of your clit and your insides constricted.

Garbled sounds bubbled in your throat, gaining in vibration as venom slowly lost its power. Lloyd’s tail moved vigorously, in contrast to the unmoving cocks snug deep inside you. His thumbs rolled across your clit - left, then right, then left again. When he pinched your nub, your arousal peaked and snapped.

A long, faint whine reverberated against the tail resting across your tongue. Your pussy and ass squeezed tightly, making Lloyd groan.

“ ‘Atta girl,” he praised softly, still teasing your pulsing pearl with a featherlike touch, prolonging the aftershocks.

Tip of his tail eased down, dropping across your chest where it rested between your breasts. Your mouth was wet, saliva smeared all over your cheeks and chin. But you were finally able to move your tongue, drawing it back inside your mouth. You swallowed and then let out a ragged breath, your voice croaked.

You were still unable to move, though you could curl your toes and wiggle your fingers a bit. Then again, the naga’s tail was still firmly wrapped around you, holding you in place as he filled you.

Heart pounded in your chest. Not out of fear, but from the rush of orgasm and the growing hunger for another one.

Your body, the betraying bitch, liked how Lloyd made it relax.

Through heavy eyelids, you peeked at Lloyd. He eased his upper body back, resting against the pile of soft pillows. Arms once again thrown broadly to the sides, a nonchalant prick. With a smug smirk curving beneath his mustache, he watched your body straddling him. He enjoyed every fucking detail about the display - his black tail around you, slivers of your skin peeking between the coils, your breasts shiny with your drool, your thighs spread so wide that your pussy was fully exposed and he could see his cock disappear into your tight hole.

You stayed like that for long minutes: your body still fully at his mercy, slowly regaining the ability to move and speak. There was no further stimulation as Lloyd simply stared at you and basked in the way your walls enveloped him in your heat.

Cockwarming for hours, he said. It appeared he meant that literally.

A part of you melted into the idea. There was something comforting, completely void of anxiety, to be filled and held and not caring about anything else.

There was another part, too. A primal, needy part, as overactive as your anxiety-prone brain parts. It grew a little restless, itching to be brought to that edge again and promptly tipped over.

Dam it, you wanted another orgasm.

“P-please,” your voice was still weak, but you managed to whisper.

“What do you need, mousekin?” Lloyd asked, though the way his smirk broadened into a grin, he knew damn well what your body craved.

You wanted to blurt out that you needed him to let you go, that you wanted to go home. You came to the Scaretale with some not well thought through fantasies of finding a nice monster, who would hug you tight and could become a future partner. You weren’t prepared for the evil turn of events and being ensnared by a deviant naga.

Who hugged your body better than any weighted blanket, but breached any boundary and used you for his pleasure.

“Home-” you dared to beg, hoping to hear (even if he laughed first) that you would be allowed to return home after he was satisfied with your holes warming him.

“Aww, sunshine.” Lloyd cooed, resting his hands on your knees and giving a soothing squeeze. “We’ll go home soon enough.”

You jerked in his hold as a terrifying realization dawned on you. He would never let you back to your own place. He wanted to keep you. You shook your head as much as you could, which wasn’t much.

“You’ll like it, mousekin.” He continued. “It’s so warm. In a very sunny area. A classy stone finish, so that so many surfaces gather heat and are pleasant to rest on. And I own the lands around it, so it’s quiet and void of any unnecessary stimuli.”

He let out a dark chuckle, drawing his hands higher up your thighs.

“But you’ll get all the stimulation from me, mousekin.”

His tail gripped you tighter anew, making your breath hitch in your lungs as he constricted your ribs. He pulled you up slightly; his cocks dragging along your fluttering walls. Then he pushed you back down, bottoming out again.

He grinned as you mewled.

“That’s a good cocksleeve.” He gradually increased the pace. “Sheathing my cocks so perfectly. So warm and wet and fucking tight.”

“You’ll take my cum so well, too.” Lloyd’s voice turned raspy, his own need growing urgent as he fucked you harder. “You’ll love it, mousekin. It will feel so burning hot and tingling.”

“When I fuck you on our stone patio, you’ll be warmed by the sun and by my cum filling your belly.”

He laughed when your body responded with an unexpected orgasm. It was building from the friction and his dirty words, but the way it suddenly burst was a screaming surprise, which you couldn’t fight off.

One more orgasm rocked your body (which finally got to twitch and jerk in its full capacity; well, as much of it as the naga’s tail wrapped around you allowed), before Lloyd shamelessly shouted out his own release and spilled inside you.

He held you still as his cocks throbbed, pumping spurt after spurt of cum. Your gasp transformed into an almost pained moan as you felt that burning hot sensation fill your orifices. Just like he mentioned, his cum was hot and carried that tingling, almost numbing feature his venom had.

You didn’t feel any paralysis, even partial, taking over. Yet your body sagged in most pleasant comfort; like when after a long, exhausting day you got to take a hot shower and then snuggle under fresh, clean sheets.

Though this was more lewd and soiled.

Your breath was heavy. Every few seconds your lips parted on a short moan as you felt that pulsing heat flooding your belly.

The tail around you loosened its grip, slowly weaving down. He let go of you fully, resting the heavy, lower half of his body on the pillows below. Still, you didn’t move from where you were straddling his hips. You didn’t even attempt to.

Because it felt too fucking good, how completely boneless and brain-dead you were.

“Good girl, mousekin.” Lloyd praised as you braced your hands on his chest and leaned down to rest your cheek against his sternum.

You didn’t move your hips, keeping his cocks nestled in your pussy and ass.

“What a perfect, sweet cocksleeve,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your back and simply holding your spent body to him. Tightly, just as you liked.

“Don’t worry,” he kissed the top of your head, “we’ll get rid of those anxious thoughts of your silly human life when they resurface. I’ll fuck it right out of you. Until you fully settle in your role as my heated sheath. My little cockwarmer.”

#scaretale universe #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #naga!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #chris evans smut #dark!lloyd hansen #viper's snare

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ln4smiamitrophy · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ————— part 1

𐙚 summary; the one where lando norris reunites with his childhood love at the Monaco Grand Prix and is convinced he’s over her. after all, it’s been 7 years. he can’t still love her, right?

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x influencer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; jadeybird on ig

⭒ type; irl x smau (there will be more smau in later parts)

⟡ a/n; i’ve come to realise that there aren’t many stories on here where the reader is mid/plus-sized. as a mid/plus-size girl myself, i personally can find it upsetting when there is mainly only representation of the body types that society deems to be conventionally attractive and not a lot of representation of others, they are common body types and they are attractive. i have struggled with body image in the past and i still do on occasion, if anyone who reads this ever needs anyone to talk to about this or literally anything else, feel free to message me and i’ll always get back to you. love you all, you beautiful people xx

comment to be added to my tag list <3

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Lando Norris loved the Monaco Grand Prix. Who didn’t? The history behind the race, the atmosphere, it was overall an amazing experience every year. And best of all, he was able to stay at home. When travelling so often meant never staying in one place too long, he was grateful for one time a year he could sleep in his own bed the night before a race.

It was race day and, as per, the track was as chaotic as usual. From the mechanics frantically checking to make sure the cars were ready for the race to the fans filling the track to the brim, it was hard to get a moment alone. In fact, Lando had barely had one since he stepped foot on the track. He’d been pulled into meetings and interviews left, right and centre.

Amongst all the chaos he finally has some time to himself as he heads to the track for the national anthem. He’s walking in silence, head down as he makes his way over. He keeps going over the strategy for the race in his head, he’s starting in p4. Overtakes are hard on this circuit, everyone knows that. All Lando wants this race is to preserve his tyres and hold his position.

It’s like the universe made it happen. Just as he lifted his head up, he’s met with someone he never thought he’d see again. Y/n. His first true love. They were together for three years, but when it became abundantly clear that Lando would be joining Mclaren for the 2019 formula one season, they couldn’t deal with the consequences that brought for their relationship, and ultimately it ended.

She doesn’t see him, and he’s almost relieved she didn’t. It’s been seven years since the end of their relationship, and yet upon seeing her he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she is. She’s changed, naturally, they were just teenagers when they separated. But she’s still as breathtaking as he remembers. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. He pushes these feelings down, repressing them as much as he can as he finds his spot on the carpet and the national anthem begins. He needs to focus on the race.

———————————————————————

78 laps later and he was p4. Lando knew he probably wasn’t going to gain any positions during the race due to the circuit but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself. Ever since his first win in Miami, since he was finally able to prove that he can win races, he’s craved it again. That feeling when he passed the checkered flag in first place, he wanted it again. It’s natural in his line of work to want to be the best, he’s surrounded by 19 other drivers who all want to be on that top step every weekend. But his teammate was p2, he was proud of him. Overall a good weekend for the team.

After the race was just as chaotic as the start, between interviews and press conferences and briefings, the only quiet time Lando gets is in between them. So that’s what he’s doing. Walking in silence towards the interview pen as his pr manager talks in his ear. He’s not paying attention to where he goes and so of course he has to walk into someone.

“Sor-“ He says looking up at them, expecting to send a small smile their way before continuing but that’s not what happens. “Y/n..”

“Lando…” Her voice is still as soft as it was all those years ago. He just gazes at her and neither makes a move to look away. That is until she clears her throat, looking down.

“How’ve you been?” Lando asks, a feeble attempt to get her to stay just a little longer. He doesn’t want her to walk away just yet. Just a moment longer.

“I’ve been well,” Glancing back up at him and he can tell she’s hesitant, he doesn’t blame her. Breathing out, she sighs before she speaks once more, “I watched Miami, congratulations on your first win.”

She still watched, she’d watched him win. He doesn’t quite know why he thought she wouldn’t; she’d always had a love for motorsports. It’s one thing they bonded over as teens.

“Thank you,” He can’t help the soft smile that graces his face. Lando mentally curses himself for glancing over her shoulder, being met with the slightly annoyed face of his pr manager. He should be in the pen by now.

He looks back at her, nodding. “I should probably go… it was good to see you.” She just nods at him, smiling softly, watching as he walks away.

Arriving at the pen, Lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself back into the driver headspace.

———————————————————————

Five hours later and he’s stood in a club, music blasting, bodies dancing all around him and he’s stood nursing the same drink for the past 20 minutes, taking with George. Normally Lando loves a party, out of the whole driver grid he’s the one you’re most likely to spot coming in and out of clubs on a Sunday night. But tonight he’s just not in the mood and he just can’t figure out why. Though he has reason to believe it’s got something to do with the girl he can spy dancing over George’s shoulder.

He can’t help but let his eyes dart towards her every couple minutes. He watches as she dances surrounded by people, laughing and smiling without a care in the world: he used to be able to make her do that. The countless nights they’d spend wrapped up in each other, talking about whatever came to mind, the soft giggles she’d let out anytime Lando said something even remotely funny as his hands would occupy themselves in her hair. They all came back to him as he watched her.

Clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink, he turns to George, dismissing himself before heading to the bar and deciding he was going to drink away the thoughts of the girl that was seemingly occupying his mind like a plague. He certainly does just that and three hours later, Lando is black out drunk basically lying down in the back of a taxi as Carlos sits there with him, making sure he gets home safely.

———————————————————————

A groan immediately falls from Lando’s mouth as he wakes up with a hangover straight from hell. He buries himself under his duvet until he finally decides he needs something for the pain. Peeling the duvet off of his body, he stands up, jumping slightly at his phone ringing. It’s Carlos.

“Please remind me to never drink again,” Lando states the moment he answers the phone and he’s met with Carlos laughing into his ear.

“It’s that bad?” The spaniard asks and Lando can hear his smirk down the phone. Letting out a grumbled “yes” Lando drags himself into the bathroom where he keeps his painkillers.

“What even happened?” Carlos questions him, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna drink much?”

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, swallowing the painkillers, finishing the glass of water. He’s lying. He knows why but he’s not going to tell Carlos that.

His mind drifts back to the short conversation he had with her the day before. The way she danced in the club. The way she laughed. Her smile. Shaking his head, he pushes it down. He ends the phone call with Carlos, making the excuse he’s going back to bed, hoping to sleep off the hangover.

But he can’t get back to sleep, he’s never been able to fall back asleep after waking up, envying people who find it so easy. After 10 minutes of trying, he finds himself hauling himself into his living room, sprawling out on the sofa and watching whatever Netflix recommends him.

He has no clue what he’s watching but then again, he’s not really paying attention. His mind kept travelling back to her. No matter what he tried. He told himself it was just shock. The shock of seeing her again. And before he knew it, he was opening instagram, typing in her name and clicking her most recent post.

———————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and others

tagged yourbff, scuderiaferrari

y/nusername monaco, you are so sexy

thank you @scuderiaferrari for the invite <3

comments…

yourbff girls trips with you are the best <3

⤷ y/nusername i love you <3

user1 y/n being an f1 girlie is literally the best thing to ever happen to me

user2 y/n just proving “hot girls love f1” to be true

scuderiaferrari loved having you around

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ y/nusername loved being around

alexandrasaintmleux loved meeting you, we need to hang out again!!

⤷ y/nusername you’re an angel, we need to!!

user3 i wanna party with y/n so bad

⤷ user4 me too!! she’s deffo the most fun ever

yourfriend1 missing you :/

⤷ y/nusername missing you more honeybun

user5 lando in the likes??

⤷ user6 he’s in the likes but they don’t follow each other

———————————————————————

part 2 soon !!

taglist; @soamericn @urfavwelshie @realcherryjam @danielshoe @coastalrainae

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allaboutforexworld · 4 months ago

Text

Technical Analysis in a Nutshell

Technical analysis is a method used to evaluate and forecast the price movements of financial instruments, such as stocks, commodities, and currencies, by analyzing historical price data and trading volumes. Unlike fundamental analysis, which focuses on a company’s financial health, technical analysis relies on patterns, trends, and statistical indicators to make trading decisions. This article…

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nahoney22 · 4 months ago

Text

Massage Therapy*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female!Reader

word count: 4.5k

prompts: none

Tech gives you a massage, what else could possibly happen?

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit Sexual Content and Language. Oral Sex ie blowjob, Fingering, P in V Sex, Nudity, Dirty Talk, Soft!Dom Tech, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Petnames, Oil Massage, Consensual Sex, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Kissing, Multiple Positions, Slightly Rough Sex, Spanking, Teasing, Flirting, Cum Denial, Creampie, Slight Possessive Tech, Not Proof Read, a bit Messy.

A/N: Total self indulge fic and tech has a big [REDACTED]

Reblog to support content creators. 🫧🌊

“What is so amusing?”

The Marauder hummed softly in the background as the team sat around, recuperating after a somewhat successful mission. Hunter, Echo, Wrecker, and Tech were sharing tactics and strategies and Tech was detailing the mission’s success. More to the point of explaining how his calculations had been spot on. But, you couldn’t help but chuckle, grabbing his attention.

“I’m just saying, Tech, your calculations might be great, but sometimes you overlook the obvious,” you teased.

Tech raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think that is the case. My assessments are thorough.”

“Oh really?” you challenged, stepping closer with a smirk. He gazes up at you from his spot, slightly wide-eyed. “I am sorry to tell you that you missed the part where the droids’ power cells were defective, which is why they were so easy to defeat.”

Tech frowned, his mind already processing your claim. “I accounted for their reduced efficiency due to age of creation, but… I didn’t specifically check for defective power cells.” He recalls quietly, pinching his chin.

Hunter and the others watched with amusement as the debate unfolded. “Sounds like a bet’s brewing,” Hunter said with a grin, leaning back in his seat.

You grinned back. “Alright, Tech, let’s make it interesting. If I’m right, you owe me a favour. And if you’re right, I’ll help with the repairs to the Marauder for a week.”

Tech considered this, the prospect of additional help appealing, especially from you, though he was confident in his calculations. “Very well, it’s a bet.”

Wrecker chuckled. “This is gonna be good.”

Tech pulled up the data on his datapad, scrolling through the information with practiced ease like he’s done this a million times before. You stand behind him, arms crossed and truthfully quite smugly-confident. After a few moments, you watch as his face fell. “It appears you are correct. The power cells were indeed defective.”

Echo clapped Tech on the shoulder. “Looks like you owe her, Tech.”

Tech simply nodded. “It seems so. I will fulfill my end of the bet.” He swivels in his chair to face you. “What is it you require?”

You ponder for a moment, not really thinking that far forward. “Undecided. But I’ll get back to you.” You say with a wink before walking away.

Tech watches you leave, swallowing hard but refusing to let the strange strain of his emotions show in front of the others.

If only you knew how you make him feel. Then again, perhaps you would be able to tell him how you are making him feel. Fluttering in the stomach when your name is mentioned in passing? Clammy hands when you talk to him? A small wave of arousal just when you’re near?

But surprisingly welcome.

It was new.

A few hours later, the others had dispersed to do their own thing whether to go to Cid’s or a walk which left just you and Tech alone.

Tech approached you after staring at you silently for the last minute or so, his usual confidence tinged with a hint of awkwardness. “Have you decided yet?”

You jumped a little, not hearing him approach initially but smile at him as you face him. “I was only teasing Tech, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“On the contrary. You asked for something from me after proving me wrong which is a rarity, so I will do what you ask.”

As he was speaking, you felt a slight pain in your shoulder that had been bugging you for a few days now which spurred on an idea. “Well… there is something you can do for me.” You say sheepishly, taking a step towards him.

The proximity suddenly made him clam up, his fists tightening behind his back as your eyes and the smell of you captivated him. Your lips are moving but he isn’t processing what you’re really saying. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, “what did you say?”

“I said you could maybe give me a massage?” You say quickly, realising how personal that sounded. “Only if you feel comfortable. It’s just I have a few knots that I feel like you could tend to.”

Tech hesitates, giving massages was definitely not his forte or something he spent researching but for you? He felt like he would do anything these days. “If i can help relieve your pain I shall do it. Albeit I can not promise groundbreaking results.”

You giggle, eyes creasing at the corners and nose scrunching. Tech had never described anything as ‘cute’ before and probably never will; however, your laughter was something he always found rather endearing and admittedly… cute.

“Really? That’d be great. Do you want to do it now since the others aren’t here?”

“That is fine with me, let me get prepared and I’ll come find you.” Tech confirms, reaching for his device to do a quick research on techniques to massages.

After doing his frantic search, Tech set up a fold-away table that was typically used for emergency medical purposes and called you over. You emerge, now having changed into some shorts and tank top and look at the table in surprise.

“Please, lie down,” he instructed.

“Gettin’ the full treatment, am I? I feel special.” You tease, hopping onto the table as you watch Tech move about.

“If you require a calming and thorough massage it is only right that I do it properly.” He says simply but hopes the slight waver of nerves in his tone didn’t show as he turns to face you, holding a bottle of what looked to be body oil. “I found this among Echo’s things. I thought it might enhance the experience.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused and quite excited. “Echo’s, huh? Do you think he will mind?”

“I was not going to plan on telling him.” Tech announced as he poured some of the oil into his bare hands, warming it before you lay down, head on a small pillow made out of the boy's spare tops.

You positioned yourself comfortably, lying face up and watch as Tech’s hands hovered over your body, as if he was unsure where to start.

“You can start with my shoulders,” you suggested gently, easing him into it.

Tech nodded, placing his hands on your shoulders and beginning to knead the tension of both this situation and your ache away. His touch was non-surprisingly gentle yet firm, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as he worked on a particularly tight knot.

“You do appear very tense,” Tech observed, his voice tinged with modest concern.

The sensation of his hands on your skin was both soothing and electrifying. The oil, scented of lavender, made your skin glisten under the dim lighting of the ship. Each stroke, knead, sent waves of relaxation through your body, yet you couldn’t help but wonder if there was an underlying current of something more intimate and exciting afoot. You try to push the lewd thoughts away and focus back on Tech.

“Yeah, missions for Cid usually do that to a person,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless.

As the massage continued, you felt your muscles relaxing under Tech’s skilled hands. He moved down to your arms, taking his time to work out every knot and kink and even took his time on each of your hands, adding more oil to your skin which feels dry.

“You’ve done this before, I refuse to believe otherwise.” You sigh, eyes still closed and occasionally, you let out soft sounds of pleasure, unable to help yourself.

You don’t hear or see it but Tech’s breath hitched slightly each time you made a sound, and he could sense his growing arousal pressing against his pants.

After a few minutes or so, his mind doesn’t process like it usually does because out of nowhere he says, “If you are comfortable, you can remove your clothes.”

Your eyes open quickly, looking directly up into his, squinting to see his reaction behind his goggles. “Remove my clothes?”

“I…I only meant…” you watch him as he struggles to force out an answer but you take pity on him because you couldn’t deny, the idea did slightly turn you on.

Tech was adorably sweet in your eyes and you knew - also thanks to the other boys teasing - he felt something for you. You didn’t believe it at first because he was always the same around you. Though the more you paid attention, the more it clicked together like a puzzle piece. When does Tech ever stumble over his words? When is he ever usually wrong? When has he ever offered to give someone a nude, oily massage?

Naturally, you felt something for him too. You were just a bit better at hiding it than he was.

“Will you place a towel over my, you know?”

“Yes, of course. It is just for a more in-depth massage.” He clears his throat, finding his voice again and genuinely surprised you were going to go ahead with this.

You flushed but nodded, trusting him. You wait until he turns around before you remove your clothes, lying back down as Tech passed you a towel which you draped over yourself. “May I proceed?”

“Sure,” you nod as you close your eyes, allowing his hands to resume their work and starting with your legs. He is certainly a quick learner because his fingers knead the muscles with precision and as he glides higher towards your thighs, you feel his touch become more deliberate.

You take a peek at him with one eye, watching him secretly and you were certain he was looking at you with a look you had never witnessed before.

He looked starved. Tempted. Lustful.

Ever so discreetly, you part your legs just an inch, allowing his hands to work on the inner sides of your thighs. You try to control your breathing but the slight rush of wind that hits your core as his hands zoom past was hard to ignore.

He climbed higher and higher until you comfortably moved your legs further open, the towel still giving you your dignity yet you were sure it was about to roll off the table and down the gangplank.

The side of his hands were just inches away from touching your pussy and you waited with bated breath, wondering if he dared to cross the line… but he never did.

You peek at him again, watching him shake his head at himself as if he was scolding himself for thinking of doing something.

“Tech,” you breathed out, closing your eyes fully so he didn’t catch you looking at him, “you can massage my br- torso. You can massage my torso if you want.”

He moves round the table, standing at your side. Looking at the towel that covered your nude body, he feels a burn in his own as his mouth starts to salivate. “Will you be comfortable with me removing your towel in that case?”

With a mumble of clarification, Tech’s hands trembled slightly as he moved the towel aside. His gaze looked at your face first, analysing your reaction and was relieved to see that you didn’t seem to mind what was happening.

He looks away from you for a moment, grabbing the bottle of oil again and then gazes upon your chest, most notably your breasts.

He bites on his tongue to stop from making a noise as he slowly pours the oil over your hardening nipples before his fingers begin tracing the curves of your breasts, rubbing the oil in.

His touch was gentle this time, yet it sent waves of pleasure through your body. He stands behind your head, leaning over you as his hands caress and respectfully fondle your tits but his eyes? They were on your face, watching your reactions intently.

You couldn’t help it but your breathing gets heavier, your fingers gripping onto the edge of the either side of the table as his thumbs briefly kiss your nipples, the heat between your legs throbbing with an intensity that you wanted to whimper his name.

“Your skin is incredibly soft,” Tech murmured, his voice husky with arousal as he cups your breasts together, kneading gently into them.

You arched into his touch, your breathing ragged. “Tech… please, don’t stop.”

Your reaction nearly makes his knees buckle, he recognised this behaviour from many porn holovids he watched in secret. You were turned on and he was the reason for it.

He continued just like you wanted, not letting his ego explode, his hands exploring your body further with growing confidence. The massage was easily becoming increasingly steamy, your soft moans of enjoyment encouraging him further that the tent in his pants was starting to hurt.

Skillfully, his hands moved lower, exploring the expanse of your stomach, then to your hips, and finally to your inner soft and pillowy thighs. “You’re so good at this.” You whisper, biting your lip.

“Turn over, please,” Tech instructed, his voice a low and husky command.

You complied, turning onto your stomach. Tech again has to suppress his wanton noises as his eyes land on your arse. You could feel his gaze linger which silently makes you smirk. There’s a mix of admiration and professionalism in his eyes and he doesn’t know how to function for a moment. “Any pain in your back I should be aware of?” He asks, oiling his hands up once again.

“I get a small ache in my lower back sometimes.” You reply, speech slightly muffled as you lay your head flat on its side.

“Hopefully I can help with that.” He whispers, his hands landing on the area you said and gives you slow and purposeful strokes.

The sensation of his hands on your bare skin was incredibly intimate, and you felt yourself growing damp with arousal. Tech's touch was almost reverent, as if he was in awe of your body. It’s not long until his hands move to your arse, massaging you perfectly.

Your lip almost bleeds with how many times you bite down onto it but you couldn’t help the shivers that tingles your body. His professionalism was evident, but the effect he was having on you was undeniable. “Do you like this?”

“I’m definitely not going to say no,” you utter with a soft laugh, soon groaning as both of his hands knead at your left cheek.

As Tech moved around the table to work at your body at a different angle, you caught a glimpse of the clear arousal pitched in his pants.

The sight sent a thrill through you, knowing that your reactions and your body were affecting him just as much. Despite his aching erection, he maintained his composure, focusing on giving you the best massage possible and for that you were immensely grateful for. Though, you wouldn’t mind the latter.

His hands moved to your thighs one more, working their magic as he massages up and down each leg with a slow, intricate touch that makes you breathe out soft moans of delight. “Those are some rather seductive sounds you’re making, I have to say.”

Did he just flirt with you? Or was he just stating the obvious as usual? Perhaps it was both.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” you say softly, propping yourself up on your elbows and look back at him, “you’re good with your hands.”

He stills, meeting your flirtatious gaze and has to fight every willpower he has not to palm himself infront of you, the ache in his pants throbbing and begging for release. “There is no need to apologise,” he says slowly. His hands are inching their way up your legs and ever so gently begins to spread your cheeks.

Your lips part, watching him as he locks eyes with your glistening pussy and you felt a surge of arousal as he uses two fingers to brush up between them, his touch feather-light and teasing.

“T-Tech,” you rasp, fingers gripping onto the table as he runs his fingers up and down your slicked entrance.

“Can I massage you here? I am positive there is quite a lot of tension that needs to be released.”

You nod fervently, biting your lip before you let out the most sinful cry of pleasure.

He paused for a moment to get your answer, then slowly, deliberately, he hooked a finger inside you.

The wet sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, a mix of slick and rhythmic. His movements were slow at first, teasing, then gradually quickened, each thrust making your body shiver. Your arse jiggled slightly with each movement, adding to the allure of him finger-fucking you.

“You’re incredibly wet,” Tech remarked, his voice a mix of awe and satisfaction. “It’s pleasing to know you’re enjoying this.”

You could barely form a coherent response, your body trembling with desire as you buried your head into the table. “Tech… please, more.”

His fingers began to explore you more deeply, each movement, twisting, curling and pumping inside you. You moaned louder, your hands gripping the edges of the table as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy of one of many orgasms.

Tech moved to your side, and you seized the opportunity, reaching out to grab his cock through his pants. “Maker you feel so big,” you gasp in pleasant surprise, massaging it through the fabric, feeling its hardness and the heat radiating from it. His breath hitched, and he groaned softly.

“You may have the pleasure of having a look and a taste if that would satisfy you.”

With a swift motion, you pulled down his pants, freeing his cock without a second thought. You had to move your head back slightly so it didn’t slap you in your face and gaze at his member in awe.

“Looks so good…” you moan to yourself as you bring his tip to your mouth, teasing it with your tongue before taking him in. Tech’s fingers never stopped their rhythm inside you, and he began to thrust gently into your mouth, his cock moving in and out with a steady pace.

You slurp and suck on his cock like a woman starved, your hand gripping the shaft as you pump it back and forth while he rocks into your mouth.

“You look so cock-hungry. Has your pretty mouth and pussy been neglected for so long?” You never thought you’d hear these words pour out of his mouth but here you both were, you with his aching cock between your lips and his fingers deep and wet inside you. “Have your needs been met?”

The sensation was intoxicating, his fingers moving inside you while his cock filled your mouth, your reply a muffled and spit covered ‘yes’. You could feel him trembling, his control slipping as he thrust deeper, the corner of your lips stretching with a pleasurable pull.

You moved back onto your back, positioning yourself with your head tilted to the side so you could continue sucking his cock. Tech’s hands were everywhere, one playing with your oiled nipples, rolling and pinching them lightly, while the other massaged your clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself building to another climax as stars blur your vision.

Tech’s pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He groaned your name, panting like a whore, his voice filled with desire. “I can’t… I’m going to…”

Before he could finish, he pulled out of your mouth with urgency, his eyes dark with lust. “I have to have you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with need.

You watched with wide and lusting eyes as he moved to the bottom of the table, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. In one swift motion, he pulled you close to him, your legs dangling off the edge. His cock, hard and throbbing, pressed against your exposed entrance. The anticipation was electric, your body quivering with need.

“Tech, please,” you whispered, your voice burning with desperation.

He needed no further encouragement. He grabs his cock, slipping it up and down between your folds, tapping it against your clit to watch your desperate whimpers of want before he pushes into you, filling you completely.

“Oh fuck! Tech!” You cried out in pleasure, your body arching against him as your head fell back. The sensation of his cock stretching you was overwhelming, and you gripped his arms, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves because after all, he wasn’t even naked himself.

“Maker, your cunt is so tight,” Tech groaned, his voice strained with pleasure, “do not worry darling, you will adjust.”

He began to move, each thrust deep and powerful, slamming into you with an urgency that left you panting with breath. He pushes his goggles up to rest against his forehead, having steamed up from the erotic heat and then watched intently, eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into you with each thrust.

“I do not think I will fit inside you completely,” he chuckles, “but I’ll make do.” his voice was husky and he looked you in the eyes.”

“You are mine,” he groans, his hands running up and down your thighs as he stills inside you, keeping his cock warm. “Stars, I have been wanting to see how you look whilst getting wonderfully fucked by my cock.”

Your eyes locked onto his, the intensity of the moment binding you together. “Tech… it’s so big,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know. But you are doing exceptionally well my dear… tell me how good it feels,” he demanded, his pace quickening. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, it’s so deep,” you cried out, your voice breaking as he begins to move his hips again. “It feels so good baby,”

Tech let out a loud groan at the pet name, legs like jelly. “I could get used to you calling me that.”

“Your body is incredible,” Tech groaned, his hands gripping your fleshy thighs tighter. “It should be cherished. Your pussy is perfect. I’ve imagined you wedged on my cock for a long time. And now you’re mine. My brothers will never get the chance to fuck you as good as I do.”

“I’ll only want you, Tech,” you gasped, your body trembling with pleasure. “I’ve always wanted you.”

Tech’s hands move to your waist, his grip almost bruising as he pounded into you. “I am going to fill you up,” he moaned, his voice low and feral as his deep-rooted kink for breeding you surfaces. “I’m going to spill my seed inside you, and you’re going to take it all.”

The thought sent a shiver of pure pleasure through your body, and you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as your pussy gets pounded. “Yes, Tech! please, I need your hot cum so badly.” you begged, voice a desperate plea as sweat drips down your body.

Tech’s thrusts became erratic, his control slipping as he neared his own high. His fingers moved to your clit, pinching and flicking it in time with his thrusts. The added sensation made you sob with pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably. “Shit oh - holy - fuck,” you’re mewling pathetically, watching half of his cock disappear inside of you.

He leaned over you, pinning you to the table, his face inches from yours. “Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice rough with need. You comply without a second thought, your lips crashing together in a desperate, hot kiss. He lets go of you, hands holding on the table as it rocked back and forth as he buries himself in and out of you.

Just as you were about to fall over into blissful release, Tech pulled out, making you whimper at the loss. “N-no, no why?”

You watch with hazy eyes as he starts to stroke himself, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Beg for my cock,” he commanded, his eyes heavy with hunger. “Tell me how much you need it.”

“Please, baby, Tech, I need you,” you pleaded, your voice desperate. “I need your cock inside me. Fuck me again, please.”

Satisfied, Tech pulled you off the table and turned you around, bending you over. He lifted one of your legs to rest on the table, angling your body perfectly. “This position will allow for deeper penetration,” he explained, his voice tinged with anticipation. “I shall be able to hit that sweet spot inside you perfectly.”

With that, he thrust back into you, his cock driving deep and hitting just the right spot. You gasp out in pleasure, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support. “Yes, Tech, right there,” you moaned. “It feels so good.”

“Good girl,” Tech groaned, his pace relentless. “Take it all my darling.”

His large, veiny cock buried deep inside you, hitting every sensitive spot. He reached forward to spank your arse, making it bounce with every thrust. “So receptive.”

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, Tech flipped you onto your back again, lifting your legs to dangle off his shoulders. He pounded into you with renewed vigor, his pace becoming erratic as he felt himself ready to give you everything.

“I’m going to cum,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “You will be so full.”

“Yes, Tech, do it,” you urged, your voice breathless as you move your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit to match him. “I need it so much.”

With a final, loud thrust, Tech buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came. The sensation pushed you into another orgasm, your body trembling with pleasure.

For a moment, the galaxy seemed to stand still, the only sounds were the heavy breathing and soft moans of pleasure. As Tech slowly pulled out, you felt his warm cum slip out of you and you watch in awe as he collected it on his fingers and, with a possessive look, pushed it back inside you.

“I want every drop to stay inside you,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I want you to remember this.”

The sensation of his fingers inside you, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, made you shiver. “I won’t forget,” you whispered.

Tech leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. “You are incredible,” he murmured against your lips. “I never imagined…”

“Me neither,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m glad it happened.”

Tech pulled you into a gentle embrace, the intimacy of the moment leaving you both feeling connected in a way you hadn’t before. “I… I hope I did not hurt you.”

“No, not at all.” You reply with a comforting smile, “I’m just dazed.”

He smiles, pulling his goggles back down after wiping them clear. “As you could probably tell, I always had feelings for you,” he admitted softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to express them.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I feel the same way, Tech. And not going to lie, I think I’ve always known.”

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muzansfangs · 10 months ago

Text

Game over.

Starring: Satoru Gojo x f!reader x Ryomen Sukuna;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, alternative universe– University AU, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Satoru!receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, kind of power imbalance, rough sex, slut shaming, praise kink, creampie, use of pet names, language, dirty talk, impact play, size kink;

Plot: A basketball match. Satoru and Sukuna, two rivals ready to risk it all for winning the annual Cup. Becoming the head cheerleader comes with some peculiar duties and thus you found yourself pleasing Satoru right before the match. When he left you unsatisfied, Sukuna suggested to help you out in exchange of a ‘little favour��, in case he won the competition. You agreed, sealing a deal with the devil that earned you nothing but an extrosensorial experience, when you end up becoming the real object of the team leaders’s desires.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Your eyes were staring deeply into his piercing blue ones, his hand holding your ponytail so tightly your scalp felt numb, as he thrusted his hips forward relentlessly. Your make up was a mess at this point. Drool was dribbling down your chin, the tears brimming in your eyes were making your vision blurry and your throat contracted almost convulsively to adjust to the intrusion of his cock.

"Fuck— Are you sure you're a cheerleader? Taking my cock like that, you seem more like porn actress, you know?" Satoru hoarsely breathed out, gritting his teeth afterwards as he felt the tip of your nose pressing onto his navel. It was too much. Your jaw stung at that point, your mind blank, while you squeezed your eyes shut to focus on breathing through your nose.

Satoru grunted up above, his thrusts sloppy, by the time someone knocked on the door with urgency. The match was about to start and the squad needed their Captain to define the last details of their strategy.

Satoru Gojo, a myth, a legend around the Campus, was the Leader of one of the two basketball teams annually contending for the University Cup. The Blue Sorcerers had been winning for three consecutive years under the lead of Satoru. He did not feel any pressure for the upcoming match, choosing to fuck your mouth instead. It was a ritual, or so you had been told by the outgoing head cheerleader: before the match, whoever inherited that position had to please Satoru Gojo in the changing room.

You were kind of baffled by the unconventional duty weighing on you, but it was not like you were against it. After all, it was Satoru Gojo you were talking about. You had been daydreaming about him for a while now. Watching him training every single day under the scorching sunlight was not enough anymore. If you could get the chance to be bent over by him without patiently waiting for him to pick you among the crowd of his fangirls, well, screw your morals, you were totally in.

It had been quite simple to settle things up. Apparently, he already knew you had been chosen to be the next head cheerleader. Therefore, when you had subtly sneaked into the designated place for the filthy deed to be done, he was not surprised to see you. He had encouraged you to drop to your knees right away, claiming you did not have much time and now you still felt your cheeks boiling at the shameless way you had obediently fallen at his feet. Pathetic, was it not?

"I'm coming" Satoru sassed, his answer sufficing both for you as a warning and for the player calling out his Captain from the other side of the door.

A soft groan erupting from his throat was all your brain registered, when a warm, thick liquid flooded down your sore throat and he abruptly pulled out of your mouth with a pop. You almost gagged, the pads of your fingers wiping away the tears from your face as you swallowed whole, the salty taste of his seed making your tastebuds explode. You were a mess. The sky blue ribbon in your hair was undone, your panties were soaked, your clit throbbed in need and you had to go back to the girls in twenty minutes.

As you heavily tried to steady your breath, palms planted onto the floor, you looked up at him in a daze. How were you supposed to compose yourself and root for his team, when your pussy spasmodically clenched around nothing? You were surely going to be replaced as the head cheerleader, after the imminent failure awaiting for you in the gym.

“I ain’t got time for cuddles or whatever you want. I have a match to win, darling. — he promptly said, winking at you before grasping a towel and handing it to you in a hurry — I will get out first. See you later, alright? I might need to ask you for a second round or something” he fretted, before fixing his clothes and jogging towards the exit.

The sound of the door closing behind him made you flinch, as you sighed and stood from the kneeling position you were in. He had literally used you like a fuck toy and did not even worry about you reaching your climax. Well, Satoru Gojo was a selfish brat. The hot stud only chased his own relief, apparently. Tossing the towel away in frustration, you turned towards the mirror and hastily tried to give a sense to your hair and make up.

You could clearly hear the screams and the burst of applause to incite the teams to make their appearence, eachoing through the corridors. You definitely needed to get a grip and join your friends.

“Damn it” you hissed, dashing towards the door and opening it, only to bump your head against what felt like a wall, but actually was a broad chest.

You winced softly, hand massaging your forehead as you flicked your gaze up. The red hues scrutinizing your face were unmistakable, just like the red t-shirt he was wearing. The pink hair, the tattoos adorning his face and biceps, the smug grin he flashed at you.

Ryomen Sukuna.

“Watch out, doll” he croaked out, staring you down as he folded his arms against his chest, his imposing height making you feel like a hapless ant about to be squashed by a boot on the concrete.

“Yeah, sorry, I really have to go now” you replied, faking a polite smile as you whipped your head to the opposite direction and started to walk away from him. You did not want any trouble, especially with him, the new leader of The Raging Curses.

However, he was clearly not done with you. His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist made you gasp. Eyes widening in panic, you twirled around to face him again. No good came from him, ever. Especially when he showed off that shit-eating grin you loathed oh so much. You had barely interacted since he had arrived at your Campus. You shared some classes with him and he always was that guy disturbing the professors.

“Was it Satoru the guy who ran out of the changing room less than five minutes ago?” Sukuna quizzically asked you, arching a dark eyebrow up as you felt your stomach churn in apprehension.

“No” you blurted out way too quickly for your own likings.

“Don’t fucking lie. I was waiting for him to check if the rumors were true. I have seen him fumbling with his sweatpants on his way out” he sternly said, his grip around your wrist tightening even so slightly as he tugged you towards him.

Stumbling on your feet, you glared up at him “Why does it concern you?” you asked him coldly, your heart drumming in your chest. Your breath was uneven and you truly feared you were going to collapse for the pressure. Well, Satoru not only had denied you an orgasm but he had also left you to deal with that brute everyone hated and tried to avoid all across the Campus.

“Actually, I am glad he had his dick sucked before the match. It’s well-known that sex before a competition is detrimental to the performance” he stated confidently, abruptly letting go of you, albeit he was standing still way too close for you to feel comfortable. You could smell his strong cologne and you recognized it to be Sauvage, much to your dismay.

That guy exuded masculinity and your hormones were making it hard for you to think straight.

Your upper lip twitched at his vulgar comment, though, and you fought back the instinct to slap him out of irritation. You were still tense, your hands trembling as you scoffed and tried to walk away once again “Okay, fine, good for you then. Bye” you dismissed him, forcing your legs to take heavy steps towards the stairs leading you to the gym.

Once again, though, his voice stopped you and this time you froze solid. Cold sweat collecting on the back of your neck, you faltered as you clenched your fists down your sides and hesitantly glanced at him from above your shoulder “What did you say?” you feebly inquired, hoping you had somehow misheard his question.

The pink-haired guy smirked and cocked his head to the side “He hasn’t even stuck a finger into your cunt, right?” he repeated himself, not a single ounce of remorse in his voice, the choice of words had been specifically oriented to achieve a certain kind of reaction from you.

You gaped, unable to move from where you were standing along with firing something back at him for several seconds. You had no time for that and, honestly, you were not in the mood to talk about your debatable sex life with a natural born bastard like him.

“Can you stop pesting me? Fuck off” you uttered, only for him to chuckle and ambling towards you with his typical jaunty step.

He was demonically perfect. You had to admit it to yourself, even though he was a despicable guy. A red flag, obviously, collecting hearts in his imaginary black-pitch jar.

“Come on, doll, I was kidding! — he started, winking at you before checking the area as if he was trying to detect any presence besides the two of you in that desert corridor — What if I want to help you out? It might be difficult for you to swing your legs in the air, landing in splits, or doing whatever shitty moves your choreography requires, if your clit throbs like that…” he seraphically said, the angles of his lips lifting upwards as his ruby eyes travelled up and down your frame.

Small. You felt so small and vulnerable under his attentive gaze. That wolfish grin never ceased to make your legs quiver in both dread and arousal. He was blatantly messing with your head, with your feelings and your body was screaming for that release.

“You are sick” you stated, trying to resist the temptation to give in.

“Isn’t what Satoru and you have done in there sick as well? Always jabbing your fingers at me, when he is just as devious as I am. — Sukuna chided you in a mocking tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall — I am serious, pretty thing. Would you like me to help you out?” he whispered, causing you to press your thighs together to relieve the pulsing need between your legs.

You hated him. You hated this. You hated Satoru for having put you in such a compromising position.

“We don’t even have the time for that” you hissed through gritted teeth, while the cheering crowd above you seemed to get impatient with every passing second. You were stuck in a whole other dimension, questioning your conscience and cursing yourself for having accepted to prostrate yourself at Satoru’s feet. Along with even considering the possibility of allowing him, the infamous Ryomen Sukuna, to please you in the middle of a corridor.

Your stream of consciousness, however, was soon interrupted by the player’s clarification.

“Oh, doll, I need less than two minutes to make you cream on my fingers” he remarked, causing your knees to buckle under his magnetic gaze.

The mere idea of getting rid of such a frustrating problem was surely giving you the incentive to agree and let him have his way with you, but you knew that if you gave him your consent to help you out, you would have also been expected to repay him in some wicked way. Was it worth it, though? And, above all, what could he ever asked of you to make you reluctant to keep your word?

“What’s the price?” you asked him through gritted teeth, mouth dry as he reached his hand out to grasp your hand and push you against the wall.

Caged between his massive body and the cool surface at your back, you knew your morals were completely gone at this point. Already bent by Satoru, they had been now disrupted by his rival. The moment his fingers crept up your thigh, smoothly slithering up to push the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, you lolled your head back against the wall and hooked your leg around his hip, granting him the access to your aching core.

“If Satoru loses the match, I want to fuck you” he declared, making your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of it happening.

You nodded your head, eager to feel his touch, to let his fingers explore your warm cavern and push you quickly over the edge. You were not worried about the deal, as you felt the pads of his fingers draw irregular figure eights on your bundle of nerves. You were sure Satoru was going to win. He always won. Soft moans falling from your lips, Sukuna grinned and soaked in the sight of you arching your back as his index and forefinger plunged deeply into your core.

“You think he’s going to win, don’t you?” he taunted you, thrusting his fingers into your soppy cunt.

Your eyes were half-lidded, thighs quivering as you choked out a brief answer “He has to win”.

Sukuna chuckled, speeding up his movements to reach that spongy spot within your walls that always drove girls nuts. Watery vision, you whimpered, not caring anymore if anyone passing by could hear you or see you like that. Your breath was erratic, his fingers curling into you made your mind go fuzzy as your hands clutched his t-shirt in your fists for dear life.

In a matter of seconds, your inner walls tightened around his fingers and you let out a strained moan of pleasure as the knot in your lower abdomen snapped. Your essence coated his fingers, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna smirked and slipped his fingers out of you. You were panting, flattening your back against the wall in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.

You watched him wrap his lips around his fingers, sucking them clean right before your longing eyes as he then hummed and took a step back from you “Now I am definitely fucking hoping Satoru will lose” he commented, before gesturing for you to see him later.

Fixing your panties underneath your skirt, you let the recent events wash over you, knowing damn wall that this little stunt had left you yearning for more. And when you ran up to your girls, white and blue pompons in hands, ready to cheer for The Blue Sorcerers, you realized that maybe Satoru deserved to lose, that your brain kept screaming in pain for wanting Sukuna, that letting his rival take you, the girl he thought was only destined to him for the season, was the right punishment for having been a presumptuous bastard.

Just like that, you led your team to the middle of the gym. All eyes on you, you began to dance for supporting Satoru’s team as if nothing had happened. But every single time you locked eyes with him, he saw defiance in your eyes. Swaying your hips, cheering the players up, you felt your heart thrumming in your chest in anticipation. Standing on the front line, you made sure to give it your best shot, while feeling Sukuna’s eyes trailing up and down your body in hunger. Maybe he was not just going to play for the glory, but for asserting his dominance on you, something Satoru claimed to be his and his alone.

When the two men shook hands, they coldly wished each other a silent ‘good luck’. The coin flipped by the umpire decided who was going to have the ball first and you closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you heard Sukuna sneering. Only two words left his lips.

“Game on”.

Every time he scored a point, Sukuna made sure to look at you. Pride in his fiery eyes as Satoru cussed in distress, bickering with his fellow mates to focus and try to catch up with the opponents. Yet, when you saw a plethora of red and black flags waving and fluttering all around you, a shaky breath left your lips. Reality tasted bittersweet on your tongue as you lost yourself among the overjoyed crowd of cheering people.

Satoru Gojo had lost.

He was visibly baffled, shocked even, as he angrily tossed away a towel his friend Suguru had handed to him. His jaw was clenched as he kicked the door on his way out, people around you celebrating the victors as Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours among the crowd. A promise was a promise and your legs started to move almost under the influence of his demanding glare.

The dull sound of your back hitting a locker, knocking the air out of your lungs temporary, was just the beginning of the lewd act taking place after the match. As soon as he had gotten you alone, Sukuna had literally grasped your jaw and his tongue had invaved your mouth right away. The passionate kiss was meant to be a distraction from his hands roughly hiking your skirt up to tug your panties down your thighs.

The way he had picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he slammed your back against the locker had left you breathless. He was hungry but so were you at this point. Your hands gripped his shirt, prompting him to take it off to expose his chiseled abs to your lustful stare. Not much was said as he lowered his pants down enough to free his bulge from the restraints of his boxers and, while your tongue began to trace the patterns of his tattoos, he ran the head of his cock down your folds to collect your juices.

“What the fuck, you’re still soaked… You wanted this so badly, I could see the way you internally squealed out in joy when I scored. Maybe you should become my cheerleader, not his” Sukuna rasped out, pushing just the tip into your opening to test your reaction.

You whined, mouth hanging open as you tried to push yourself even closer to him to get another inch into you. You craved him, you needed him more than anything else right now.

“Fuck… You’re so needy. Here, scream my name, let them hear you” Sukuna rasped out, before snapping his hips forwards and sheathing himself completely into you. A strained moan erupted from your throat, as your walls clamped down onto him so deliciously, as you buried your head on the crook of his neck.

He groaned at your tightness, his hands squeezing your ass roughly, not caring for possibly leaving bruises on your skin as he began to set out a punishing pace. His thrusts truly left you breathless, his girth stretching you out so perfectly every time he pulled slightly out before thrusting in again. You were loud, too loud and someone clearly heard you, but you did not care enough about your reputation at the moment.

“Who are you?” Sukuna suddenly blurted out, his pace brutal as you whimpered out in pleasure and a sting of pain.

“W–What?” you meekly babbled out.

“Who are you, doll?” he repeated, hinting at something specific that only as he reached your cervix you realized.

“Satoru’s cheerleder”.

“And who is fucking you?”.

“S-Sukuna! Ryomen Sukuna!” you breathlessly said, right before the door banged opened and you both snapped your head towards the unexpected guess.

Your stomach dropped when a pair of sky blue eyes met yours, while you heard a dark laughter rumble from deep into Sukuna’s chest. Of course he was amused by that. Satoru closed the door with a foot, his eyes never leaving the scene playing before his eyes as he approached you. You did not know what to say, merely whimpering as Sukuna had only opted for slowing down his thrusts, not stopping them at all.

“I need her. Get your fucking hands off of her” Satoru flatly stated, earning a scornful glance from the pink-haired man.

“Ah, no, mate. There’s no way in hell I’mma stop now. If you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m balls deep into her. Waut for your turn” Sukuna grumbled, resuming his fast pace as you squirmed in total shock and on the verge of cumming all over his dick.

It almost felt surreal the way they talked about you, about using use as if you were not even there, as if you were a mere trophy to use to let them steam off the stress. Your vision was blurry as you clung to Sukuna, mewling at the way he held you still.

“S–Satoru, I–” you tried to retaliate, but it only made things worse as he gripped his hand and grasped a fistfull of your hair, earning a pained wince from you. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.

“Shut your mouth, you slut. You could not wait until the end of the match to be stuffed full, could you? Fine, open that stupid, disgusting mouth of yours and make me cum” he hissed through gritted teeth, as Sukuna only pulled out of you to let you drop on your knees in front of his rival.

Was he willing to share? Were you going to be taken by them contemporary?

Your mouth watered and you had no idea of why your pussy clenched like that at the mere thought of pleasuring them both at the same time. Right, pleasuring them because you knew that once you became a piece of meat between them, your pleasure would have most likely became secondary. Did you want that, though? Yes. Was this something that could happen once again? No.

With your pleading out flicking up to lock with Satoru’s ones, you chewed on your lower lip thoughtfully, pondering what to do, before eventually nodding your head and watching as he tugged his pants down and knelt in front of you. Your mouth was right in front of the pinkish tip of his cock as he gave it a few languid strokes, before tapping with on your lips to part them opened.

“Man, you’re so pissed you might pop a vessel” Sukuna taunted Satoru before leaning his cock towards your core and sliding back into you with groan. His large hands gripped your hips possessively, as your moaned out around Satoru’s cock.

Drool ran down your chin as you swung your arms towards Satoru’s thighs for balance.

“Shut up. — Satoru deadpanned, pushing his cock into your mouth too quickly, causing you to almost gag around him — And you better be careful not to use your teeth, little slut” he then chimed, staring down around you sucking eagerly on his lenght.

The tempo they chose was mind-blowing. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room like a pornographic soundtrack, as both Satoru and Sukuna’s grunts made goosebumps raise on your skin. Full of them, shared like an antelope between two vicious lions, you felt yourself driven towards your orgasm.

“Good girl… Coming on my cock already? Yeah, that’s it, give it all to me” Sukuna rasped out, landing a spank on your jiggling ass.

Satoru hummed and twitched into your mouth, sinking his foreteeth onto his bottom lip not to groan too loudly. But it was all too much to prolong it further, when Sukuna buried himself into you until the base, his heavy balls slapping your clit one last time, you came too and you shivered at the feeling of your juices mixing into you.

Satoru sighed, deciding not to let you feel as satisfied as you maybe wished. Right before he exploded down your throat, he pulled out of your mouth and let his cum drip down your face, down the length of your nose, letting it slide down your cheeks because he knew you were fine with it as well, because after all, you were a good head cheerleader.

And you had just fulfilled your mission.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am staring at the screen of my laptop not knowing what to say. Writing threesome is kind of fun, I got to say, albeit I hope I will be able to get better at it through the time. Let me know what you think about it!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

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justordinarygirl · 1 month ago

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Vicious angel

Sentinel x Megatronus (Hot NSFW)

This sketch is drawn by my friend @missiva12 , please admire her works. Tags: !size kink, praise kink!

The majestic beings, created in the image of God, towered above him, each one of them. He felt a trifle small in himself, and being directly next to them felt as if he were halved even further. It seemed to the Sentinel that everything could be tweaked without overreaching. That the feeling would go away if he kept himself busy, if he worked with the Primes, if he became part of their inner circle. That's when they'd stop seeming repulsive.

But it wasn't like that…

The closer he got, getting more and more personal proxies, the more he was invited to meetings or free events, the more he was ready to scrub his tanks of disgust. Their voices are unnecessarily annoying. Someone's one of their palms presses against his shoulder and squeezes too hard. Someone smells vilely of expensive liquor, but he smiles and laughs with them.

The Sentinel is taught over and over again, he misdistributed the data, he got in the wrong rack, he is asked for the quality of the weapon, even though it is not even his job! The news feeds are once again dotted with headlines about the unrivaled strategy of these great guys, glossing over his existence when the whole tactic was his idea!

Not enough. It's never enough. And in place of the burning hatred, he was strangled by the desire to praise again. Praise tugged at the strings of his spark, especially his praise, the strongest of the Primes, evoked strange mixed feelings that made him want to reach for it again. And the Sentinel was reaching for it.

His frame ached terribly from work and training, more pleasure in staring at his reflection in the training room than twirling his weapon, but once again Sentinel didn't choose. A supine position would relieve the discomfort, but the difficulty lay in the weight of another mech on his back, pressing his breastplates against the long conference table.

«I don't want to pretend not to notice, my friend.» Megatronus' strong palms slid around the curve of another's waist.

«I know you are young, but I do not consider you foolish or ignorant, all instruction is only for the better, for each of us can see that you are capable of more.»

It was an accident to find himself in such a situation. First there had been the conversation with the overworked Prime in the night, then the careless words of annoyance that had come out of Sentinel's vocolizer, and the dialog that had soon turned into clamping down on the smaller mech's figure. He wanted to refuse, was already ready to say something, but Prime gave such a light and reverent compliment to his work that it made him hesitate a little. Of course, another reason this purple bastard was so beloved by the populace, he knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Then another, then another and here was Sentinel, in a completely empty office except for them, pressed against a flat surface and venting noisily at the gentle touches.

«You don't mind? You've worked hard over and over again, definitely deserve a good rest and knowing you, you're more than able to handle…our slight height difference.» he laughs. Of course, it's easy for him to say. But Sentinel really deserves all the attention he can get, doesn't he? And he's capable of enduring almost anything Prime has prepared for him. No one could handle any of the tasks better than him.

Megatronus' palm presses against the interface panel and, covering the entire area with a single manipulator, presses down, rubbing the already heated metal, causing the counsellor to whimper quietly. The plate pressing against the protoform smears the moisture inside in a thin layer and it causes a slamming wave of shame. Just a couple words of praise from him and Sentinel is in such a shameful state. The thought of opening up and showing his feelings is embarrassing and distasteful. A crumb of sanity has returned to him and, withdrawing his manipulator behind his back, the mech wraps his fingers around the others limb, wanting to get up, to end this misunderstanding, but the masked faceplate presses against the back of his helmet.

«You're doing great, its fine, don't worry, I promise I'll take care of you» Sentinel exhaled deeply at the affectionate voice over the audiosensors, his frame instantly relaxed and his fingers unclenched. Again the slight prick inside spark, a sense of rightness, of comfort.

Dimming the optics slightly, Sentinel feels the panel press with more force and it moves aside on its own. Warm metal slid between the slippery servos, a chuckle of irritation from Prime, and the dentoplates clenched only briefly before wet fingers slid into place and the unaccustomed frame began to wriggle. The left manipulator gently pressed the mech tighter against the table. Scooping sticky moisture onto the fingers of the second manipulator, Megatronus gently pressed one into the port. The finger slides in without much obstruction, but the inside is still hot and so tight just for the finger. The tip of the spike rests painfully against his own plates, the desire to be fully inside burning his gut.

There was a click and the sound of an interface panel being pushed back from behind the counsellor, the heated metal touching the open port, sliding between the servos, gaining moisture and pressing its against the bellyplates. Following his curiosity, Sentinel lifted up, looking down between his servos. His optics widened, no, nope, that won't go in, this fragger is huge. Sentinel felt a chill of worry run down the back of his helmet, the blue frame barely flinched, but Prime ran his free palm over the mech, whispering soothing words again.

«It's okay little one, it'll fit you, I'll make you ready.» Megatronus' entire attention is focused only on Sentinel and the latter likes it. He wants to stay just so it doesn't stop, lying in the barely lit cold blue room, with a nice weight on his back and the sounds of systems working behind him.

In a very short time, the walls of the port were already being stretched by three thick fingers, sliding in and out with a sinful squelch. Sentinel vents noisily in response to each movement, not allowing himself to let out a groan at such a simple caress, his not a budding academy student. The port stings slightly, but it is a pleasant feeling, incomparable to anything else. Mech prefers to believe that Prime is here to bring him pleasure, that this is how it should be, these misunderstandings should thank him for all he puts up with, should worship the efficiency and beauty of their counsellor. Megatronus swiped his manipulator across Sentinel thigh, grabbing servo's and lifting it up. Standing like this would be uncomfortable, but long training and stretching had helped noticeably.

Fingers slipped out of the port, a couple strands of lubricant trailing behind them, the now freed palm placed on the curve of waist, as the tip of the spike pressed against the entrance, wiping away a drop of pre-transfluid. Prime gently rubs circles into the Sentinels frame as it enters inch by inch into the prepared but still tight port. The stretching of the walls causes the blue mech to hiss and reach forward with his hands over the surface.

«Shh, it's okay, you're doing great. Remember the breathing practices? Inhale deeply, exhale and relax, you can take it, baby, you can do it.» his voice is velvety, so polite for his height and size. Annoying. Self-confident, huh? Another cocky…but Sentinel follows the advice, exhales, concentrates on relaxing, feels the thick metal filling him in a way he didn't know before, but seems to unconsciously need all his assets. The bumps and bulging segments hit the sensitive wires perfectly, and along with the discomfort comes the pleasure that makes his lips form a circle and a whimpering moan erupts from the energon receiver.

The Sentinel's port is almost suffocating in its narrowness, soft and pliable, it perfectly accepts whatever is given to it, the tip sliding further and deeper, eventually resting against the reservoir. Megatronus looks down, his spike barely halfway in. Good boy.

The counsellor breathes even deeper, clenching his palms into fists and biting his lip to the point of pain. Good, so good, would it be better when he started to move? The answer didn't take long, wiggling his hips slightly, Prime began to gently withdraw so that he could enter again. The sound of joined hips accompanied the shriek and Sentinel instantly covered himself with his manipulators, blocking the path of his voice. The tempo of the thrusts continued to increase, intoxicated by the stretching, he whimpered and moaned, over and over.

«So beautiful and strong, you are unsurpassed, my dear Sentinel, so heavenly» Prime squeezes the base of his spike as tightly as the rest of it is squeezed by crotch. He slides his hand back and forth in time with his hips over the part of the metal that can't go inside due to the limitations of their little counsellor. The wings in front of him are like a magnet, but his hands are busy and he can only stare longingly at their tantalizing twitches.

He's cute. Spicy and cute. Sentinel's scowl and cheeky bottom-up stare made him even more endearing at times, each of the Thirteen agreed with a chuckle. Lucky to get him first, thanks Primus. Lowering the blue servo he'd raised, Megatronus hugged the mech's pelvis and began sliding circles around the most sensitive part of the protoform, causing the hips to twitch and the walls of the port to contract around him. Owning manipulators at the faceplate doesn't help Sentinel be quieter and it's even cuter. Maybe others will hear, find out who got to their mutual favorite and lose their reloads in envy. Yeah, maybe.

The smaller mech rides the slippery caresses on the table, unable to think of anything but the pleasantly cold surface beneath him and the fire between his lower pair of limbs. Full and hot and so good. The quick, rough thrusts make him rub his cheek against a small puddle of his own saliva. The charge of arousal builds rapidly, like a knot tying at the bottom of his abdominal plates, Sentinel presses closer to the caressing fingers, begging not to stop, not thinking about how it sounds, wanting only to feel the release, long-awaited and desired. Just a couple of presses and he collapses, the reboot seeming to come over him in a wave, his legs shaking uncontrollably and his thighs clenching.

As the mech sprawled on the table with muted optics and fluttering port, Megatronus wrapped his large palms around the Sentinel's slender waist and squeezed around it, accelerating his thrusts to as fast and short as possible, with a sigh of pleasure, releasing jets of transfluid inside. Even after rebooting, he didn't want to come out, this port felt right, as if its frame had been restrained by God specifically for this purpose, hes so perfect.

But it is impossible to be inside this wonderful creature for the rest of eternity, so with a slight movement, the spike unwillingly slipped out of the warm mech with a wet squelch. Stepping back a step or two, Megatronus inspected his work with pride. The still stretched crotch clenched around the hollow, the protoform twitching and their mixed fluids flowing down the inside of thighs, golden wings shimmering in the light of the blue diodes on the wall, beckoning again. How pretty…

Leaving him to cool down and rest a bit, Prime walks over to a small sink, and wets a clean rag from a large pile. After tidying himself up, he closes the panels, picks up a new rag, and walks over to the recovering mech.

«Hi again, am I overdoing it?» Sentinel had no words or thoughts in response, everything in his processor blended into a homogeneous mass. He just mumbled something and jammed his faceplate back into the table. There was a hearty chuckle from Prime's side.

"Oh, I beg to differ," stepping closer, the tall mech flipped the figure onto his back and sat him on the table. "but it's more comfortable this way."

The soft cloth gently stroked Sentinels cheek, wiping first the faceplate, then the mech quite unexpectedly slowly knelt down and pulled apart the still twitching servos, causing Sentinel to come to his senses rather quickly. The sight of giant standing like that made the metal heat up again, but there was no more strength left. Meanwhile, the cloth collected the droplets, lines of streaks, and rubbed the sticky thighs with gentle actions. When the purple arm pulled back, the Sentinel's panel slammed shut.

They sat in silence for a while, one staring at his wrists, the other, still kneeling, gazing with blue optics at the features of the faceplate opposite, until he stood up and reached for mech. Slipping his manipulators under shoulders, Megatronus lifted the nearly weightless body and pressed it against his breastplates, holding his back with a hand. His counsellors faceplate expressed complete surprise, to say the least. He didn't seem to have expected such an action from Prime.

Not only did he not expect it, but he was almost furious. What insolence, to hold him in arms like a child or an invalid, this in the spirit of their fragger company!

"Don't look at me like that, my friend, I've tired you enough already, it's up to me to take care of you and bring you to the platform." Megatronus' voice, deep, quiet and poised, echoes off the walls of the palace's corridors, soothing and as if putting him into a trance. Optics fading again, Sentinel snuggles the side of his helmet closer to Prime's frame, sinking into a recharging embrace. Satisfied and smiling beneath his mask, Megatronus runs the fingertips of his second manipulator over the lovely wings and carries hes little prince to personal quarta.

He didn't clean up the drips and streaks on the floor and table, maybe too tired for that and left the job to the janitors. Or maybe he wanted to leave the traces of his little victory for others to see.

(If you like long posts or prefer short posts, please share with me)

#transformers #transformers one #tf one #maccadam #sentinel prime #tfone sentinel #megatronus #megatronus prime #megatronus x sentinel #Sentinel #size difference #size k!nk #praise k!nk #artwork #valveplug

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stockexperttrading · 1 year ago

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Trading Strategies with Funded Traders Global

This blog explores various trading strategies and provides valuable insights into market analysis, risk management, and developing a successful trading strategy. It covers the three pillars of market analysis: fundamental analysis, technical analysis, and sentiment analysis, and emphasizes the resources and tools offered by Funded Traders Global to enhance traders' market analysis skills. The blog also delves into long-term and short-term trading strategies, including buy and hold, trend following, value investing, day trading, swing trading, and scalping. Additionally, it highlights the importance of risk management in safeguarding capital and explores risk awareness, position sizing, stop-loss orders, and risk-reward ratios. The blog concludes with discussions on developing a trading strategy, backtesting, forward testing, and advanced trading strategies like options, algorithmic, and event-driven trading. Throughout the blog, Funded Traders Global is presented as a trusted partner providing educational materials, expert insights, and cutting-edge tools to support traders in their journey toward success in the financial markets.

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kitscutie · 1 year ago

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snow and roses: part III (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part three is finally hereee! sorry it took so long i've been dealing with some shit and doing a lot of work as life's just gotten very busy but don't worry - nothing will be left undone and trust me when i say i already have the ending for this series planned out :)

im sorry to say guys but i will have to close my taglist as the size has began to affect my posts and tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry!

word count:2k

find parts one and two in my masterlist!

After the incident the previous day between Brandy and Arachne as well as the suggestions from Coriolanus taken on board, the mentors had been allowed one hour with their tributes to discuss tactics.

It was good yet bad all at once. You wanted to give Wovey advice, a fighting chance but yet you knew no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much help you gave her, she stood no chance compared to people like Reaper and even Lucy Gray.

She was small and innocent, young.

"In spite of yesterdays - tragic events, our president has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror, to which I and Doctor Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon - with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a specialised television presentation of each tribute to our audience to, well get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin." Dean Casca Highbottom spoke into the echoey room, so large it was almost comical.

All of the tributes had been chained to the tables like animals and it made you sick to your stomach. You were aware they may harm you but at the same time such treatment would drive anyone to violence, it wasn't simply because they were District.

"Hi Y/N." Wovey smiled, so innocent. So naive.

"Wovey. I was thinking about how you might approach the games and I figured what might be best is to hide. You're small, an advantage that the other tributes don't have. I'm sure we can find some spaces this afternoon that might prove useful?" You suggested, not wishing to make this conversation more painful and personal than it had to be.

"Sure." She murmured, gaze positioned on the chains around her wrists.

"And if you wait until it's dark and everyone is sleeping you could go to the middle - collect whatever weapons they have left, just in case but otherwise I recommend waiting it out. If they can't find you they can't kill you." The sentence left a bitter taste in your mouth, you had never pictured yourself recommending a child to wait her death out in your life. The Capitol Academy was sold to you with visions of wealth and power, and now you has gone from student to mentor.

"I don't want to kill anyone." She frowned. She didn't even care that she could die, only fearing harming others. You felt your heart ache and yet, you could do nothing. No words would be good enough to reassure her, no actions would be able to save her. For once, you were useless.

"Wovey-" You began your sympathetic speech though Casca cut you off.

"Snow, Y/N. Let's go." He said as peacekeepers arrived to escort you to Doctor Gaul.

You rose without another word to Wovey, aware nothing you could say would be of any help at this time.

You knew it was about Coryo's proposal which you had not helped in and yet you weren't too upset about it. You didn't need the Plinth Prize nor did you need Doctor Gauls' approval and so you set out to let her know of your lack of involvement in this task.

"How is your tribute?" Coriolanus asked after minutes of silence.

"Her name is Wovey and she's fine. A little frightened but aren't we all?" You said, you were hesitant to tell him too much of Wovey's weaknesses and you didn't know why. This was Coriolanus. Your best friend of over ten years and your boyfriend of a few months and yet, you had a feeling whatever you said would be used against you.

"I suppose." He answered. You supposed his tone was meant to come off charmingly but all you felt was unease.

"This proposal. I haven't done it." You let him know, it was the least you could do before facing the psychopath known as Head Gamemaker.

"We have. I handed it in this morning." He answered with a hint of pride. Impressed with himself that he had taken initiative, helped you.

"I thought I made it clear the other day that I wanted no part in this plan to profit off of peoples lives, Coriolanus." You muttered, increasingly angry with his dedication to the Games and what they stood for.

"Well if you want to help Wovey, I suggest you don't tell Doctor Gaul that." He smiled, holding the door to her office open for you in a feign attempt at being a gentlemen.

As you walked into her office you couldn't help but feel disgusted. It was littered with mutants, clearly created to kill, all sat in glass jars on shelf upon shelf. Stacked all the way up to the ceiling.

"Mr Snow, Miss L/N. Come and see my new babies." Gaul said as she appeared at the back of the room. Where she had been hidden, you had no clue.

You did as she said, never one to disobey your superiors, climbing the snake tank alongside her.

"Is there a point to their colour?" You asked curiously. The snakes were surprisingly beautiful, chromatic as they shifted around on top of one another.

"There's a point to everything Miss L/N. Or to nothing at all, which brings me neatly to your proposal. Which one of you actually wrote it." She asked, as if to catch you out but you felt no remorse in admitting it wasn't you.

"Coriolanus, Doctor." You answer, sensing Coriolanus' hesitation in baiting you out.

"Well, how shocking. I expected more of a conflict." She replied, as though she were annoyed by your honesty as she reached into the snake tank, pulling Coriolanus' proposal out. "They're good your suggestions. I'm going to recommend my team implement as many as possible for tomorrow. Now run along you have an arena to promote, and Miss L/N I must say - I am most disappointed by your lack of involvement in these brilliant ideas."

"Well thank you, Doctor Gaul for your offer but, I thought Mr Snow had it safely under his control." You smiled politely before you both left to 'promote' but more so survey the new arena. "Wait." You said stopping Coriolanus before you got into the truck. "I don't know what has become of you Coriolanus Snow, but I want the little boy who fought to provide for his family while also caring for others back. You are turning into one of them, and I'm not going to be there to watch the world burn beneath your feet." You spat, leaving him to think as you sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

It seemed Coriolanus felt spiteful towards your words as he too ignored you up until this very moment as you walked into the arena.

You smiled reassuringly down at Wovey who looked just so scared. You were only three years older than her and yet you felt a motherly protection towards her, one you couldn't shake off.

Infront of you was Coryo and Lucy Gray. At first you pitied the girl, coming from twelve must be hard as they were food deprived and worked to the bone and yet now, as she stood holding your boyfriends hand in her beautiful rainbow dress, you loathed everything about her.

Your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could, your disgust clear to anyone looking but only one person was. Sejanus. He looked at you with pity and for once, you appreciated it. You decided he must know about you and Coriolanus and seeing as nobody else did they all whispered about him and Lucy Gray, how sweet they seemed.

You walked around alone before he appeared at your side.

"You deserve better, Y/N." Sejanus said, eyes never meeting your own as you continued to survey the arena, never even noticing his eyes stuck on his watch.

"Debatable." You chuckled, feeling a sense of self responsibility for getting with a man as dangerous as Coriolanus Snow in the first place.

"I wouldn't worry. If there's anything I've learnt about Coryo it's that he likes shiny things, new things - and she's definitely a spectacle." he chuckled to himself, it was safe to say Lucy Gray's ability to impress a crowd hadn't been missed by anyone.

"He'll grow tired eventually. I was his precious rose once." You sighed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.

You soaked in the silence for a few moments before you realised Sejanus' lack of response, turning in annoyance to see his eyes following the hand of his watch clock closely as he mouthed a countdown of the minutes.

"What are you-" You began.

"We've got to go." He said, grabbing your arm and beginning to walk towards the exit cautiously, not catching the attention of any guards.

"What do you mean? Sejanus?" You asked as he would not slow, not for anything. You looked around, seeing everyone else still stood stationary as they calmly conversed.

"Just follow me, Y/N." He said, still attempting to stay calm but you noticed his wide eyes.

You walked in silence, your heartbeat getting louder in your ear with each step until you hearing went completely silent, vision going black as both you and Sejanus were thrown to the floor in a cloud of smoke.

It took a few moments for you to be brought back to reality as you sat up, dazed hearing the yells of people around you. Once again before you could even figure out what was happening Sejanus' grabbed you, pulling you to your feet as you ran out of the door. 'Enjoy the show' now sounding muffled.

"What about Coryo?" You cried out in desperation, no matter what he put you through he was your first love and you had always pictured him to be your last.

"If we go back now, Y/N, we'll die." Sejanus replied as he continued dragging you until you reached the fresh air outside. Your charred lungs welcoming it.

As you looked back through the doorway you saw nothing, no one. Simply black smoke. You felt guilty and yet still - deep down - your heart yearned for the death of Lucy Gray.

It had been five hours now, sat around Coriolanus' bed alongside Sejanus and Tigris.

He hadn't so much as twitched and it had your heart racing with panic, if he died, you knew a part of you died with him.

Tigris comforted you as best she could in her own worry, noting how his chest continued to move up and down steadily and that the doctor only mentioned an injured arm, not that he was at risk of death.

The appearance of bright blue eyes caught everyone's attention as you rushed to be by his bed.

"Coryo." You said, a large smile on your face. You watched as his eyes flickered around in confusion, landing on you for a few moments. You don't know what you expected, a look of love? What you most definitely didn't expect was one of disgust.

"Lucy Gray, is she-" He stated, looking to Tigris for an answer.

"She's alive." Tigris responded through gritted teeth as she looked to you with sympathetic eyes. Her reply was lost to you as the ringing in your ears after the explosion returned. Your heart beating loud in your chest. You placed a hand over it, feeling it pound against your palm.

Your eyes glazed over as you walked away into a secluded corner, waving Sejanus off as he attempted to follow you.

It felt now more than ever so official, so real without a doubt. You had lost Coriolanus Snow. He no longer loved you, cared for you or even worried for you.

The cage that was his heart had opened wide, setting you free and instead capturing something new and desirable. A songbird.

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#coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger game fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg fic #thg fanfiction

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