#When you start to draw from legs and forced to add body

[arrothededushka]

[monstersholygrail]

You crawl away, panting heavily as you leave the chaotic depths of the orgy going on in the Free Use City Office. Somehow you’ve managed to avoid being found with the Easter egg vibrator stuck snuggly in your tight hole.

But your jaw aches, your lips are swollen, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take without a release of your own.

That’s when a sudden shadow falls over you. Looking up, you see Minotaur Boss standing tall and proud before you. His suit in perfect condition and not a hair out of place.

You almost question if he’s been participating but you see the smallest drop of cum in the corner of his mouth before he licks it up with his fat tongue.

“You’ve been mighty generous this game, pet,” Minotaur Boss rasps.

He offers you his hand and you take it on unsteady legs, so turned on you fear you’ll pass out. Your boss’ eyes look over you and you can feel your body heat up even more at the attention.

“It’s not like you,” he adds, voice suspicious, eyes glimmering with triumph.

And he’s not exactly wrong either. Everyone in the office spoils you. If they’re not servicing you they’re just plain fucking you. In your time at the office you’ve barely ever had to get on your knees, so to speak. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass. You know you’ve been caught, there’s no use trying to deny it.

Still, you have to try as you start to fall back on your knees. But Minotaur Boss is quick to stop your little games. Squeezing your hand he pulls you back up and pushes you over a nearby desk. You cry out as your chest hits the cold desk.

Minotaur Boss kicks apart your legs, yanking off your pants before you can say a word. Anticipation curls in your belly as you wait for him to find it and you jump as his prickly tongue rolls over the length of you.

A shiver rolls through you as his tongue searches and probes your hole, igniting your nerves and making you gush with another wave of lust. He teases you like he knows the egg is already inside you and he’s just drawing it out, torturing you.

But he fucks you with his tongue like the beast he is, lapping at your core and drowning in your taste like he never wants to come up for air. He growls against you as you writhe against his mouth, grinding down on his face and taking what you need. Reaching back you grab his horns and ride him as rough as you can.

His clawed hands grip at your thick thighs and he pulls you down even harder on top of him, tongue swirling around every sensitive inch of you. Driving you higher and higher to your peak, your moans cutting through the sounds of the orgy behind you.

You cum hard on Minotaur Boss’ tongue, sparks shooting throughout your body as waves of pleasure leave you. The force of your release so strong it sends the egg vibrator shooting out of your hole. Before it can fall to the ground he swipes it from the air, a smug smirk on his face.

“Ahh. There it is,” he purrs before leaning in and giving your fluttering hole a gentle kiss.

A tingle of overstimulation zaps through you and you let out a cute little yelp as Minotaur Boss stands to his full height. Letting the aftershocks wash over you as he addresses the room.

“Looks like I’ve won. Now it’s time for my real prize.”

You look over your shoulder just as Bunny Secretary waltzes up and places the vibrator’s remote in Minotaur Boss’ claws. The rest of the room collectively sags in disappointment despite the lust in the air. All of them wishing they were the ones to have won you. But the only thing you can seem to focus on is your boss as he closes in on you.

And even though the office has the day off for the party, you know he’s about to put you to work.

[blueicequeen19]

Crash Out

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, angry JJ, orgasm denial, edging

“You can’t be here!” You hiss, pushing at his chest and urging him toward the door but JJ doesn’t budge. He’s slick with sweat while panting to catch his breath. That’s when you notice the bat hanging at his side and the sound of sirens drawing closer.

“What did you do?” You demand, eyes hard as you stare back at him. The fire in his eyes seems to morph into something else as he takes in your sleep attire.

“Fair is fair.” JJ rasps, his voice gruff like he’s been yelling.

“What does that mean?”

“They took what’s ours.” JJ’s jaw clenches as he takes a step forward, the bat still in his hand.

“Who did?” You step back as he advances. Your back meets the wall in the hallway and his chest brushes against yours. Your nipples harden against his chest and his eyes are glued down your cami.

“You and your Kooks.” JJ growls, causing you to flinch when he suddenly drops the bat, making it clatter on the hardwood floor.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Your daddy is the mayor. You had to know what they’ve been planning. Another fucking club? Don’t you people have enough? Why do you have to take from us too?” JJ’s hands slam against the wall on either side of you, caging you in as he presses harder against you. He was hard. So hard that you could feel every ridge through his jeans against your stomach.

“JJ—.”

“Turn around.” JJ snarls, not giving you a moment before he spins you around. Your cheek meets the wall, your body buzzing as he presses his erection against your ass. You knew what this was, what he needed. So you pressed back, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea.

“Don’t make this more than it is.” JJ rasps, yanking your sleep shorts and panties down in one go. The cold air hits between your legs, making you shudder against the wall. His warm, callused hands find your ass, caressing the flesh before landing a sharp smack. You gasp, attempting to pull away but he yanks you back, slapping your ass again.

“JJ—.”

“Shut up.” You attempt to turn around but he holds you in place, dipping a hand between your legs and stroking your slit. “I don’t want to see your face.” A thick finger enters you forcing you up on your toes with a loud groan.

“So fucking wet so me. I wonder what your daddy would think.” You open your mouth to argue but he adds another finger, making you lose the ability to think or speak. JJ fingers you hard, the sloppy sound of your wetness echoing in the dark hallway. Just when you’re close, he stops, quickly replacing his fingers with something much thicker.

“JJ..”

“This is for me, not you.” JJ growls in your ear, yanking back on your hair as he sinks in balls deep in one go. You whimper loudly, his cock so deep that it hurt. He shoves your legs farther apart before he starts to fuck you. It’s hard and it’s fast. Your moans echo down the hall as JJ pants in your ear. His cock was so deep and hard that you could feel him wherever while you tried to meet every thrust.

Suddenly, he was pulling out and shoving you onto your hands and knees on the rug. You look back over your shoulder, savoring the way his eyes start to roll back as he enters you again from behind. You notice he’s ditched his jacket and t-shirt at some point, leaving him in just his low hanging jeans. Then he’s quickly shoving your face down against the rug as he starts to move.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out, his movements so rough and hard, the new position even deeper than before. Your knees scrape against the rug and his hands leave a bruising grip on your body. It’s too much. Your hand flies back to push at his thigh for some sort of break but he simply uses the opportunity to pin your arms behind your back. Your nails scrape against his abs, making him hiss as he fucks you harder.

“JJ.. I’m gonna cum.” Your body tightens, legs shaking uncontrollably as you near your peak.

“Don’t you dare.” His punishing pace slows, causing you to cry out in frustration as you claw at his abdonmen and move your hips back against him, desperate for friction. His hands release yours to grip your hips to halt your movements as a mocking laugh leaves him.

“I bet your daddy would lose his mind over his pretty little daughter desperate and wet for Pogue dick.” You angrily move to sit up but he shoves you back down, thrusting in hard, just once. Your body trembles and your pussy pulses, seeking the pleasure he’s denying.

“Fuck me or get out, Pogue.” You bite out, reaching between your legs to stroke your clit. Your walls clench around his dick, making him groan, deep and sexy.

“You’re not in charge, slut. So shut up and take what I give you.” JJ’s strokes turn punishing, so hard and fast that you can’t catch your breath and tears fill your eyes from the intensity of it. You were on the verge of something explosive. The two of you didn’t go beyond sex but something about you craved his darkness and the way he took it out on your body. He never failed to leave you spent in a puddle of your mixed releases before letting the door slam shut behind him.

“JJ—I—I—.” Your words trail off, toes starting to curl as your eyes begin to roll back in your head. But the promise of pleasure is ripped away when he stops abruptly to shove you on your back. You’re too caught off guard to do anything but watch and blink up at him as he strokes his cock almost angrily, grunting with each rough tug until he erupts, painting your chest and part of your face in his cum. Your tongue darts out, tasting what landed on your lips as he releases one last, panty dropping groan and the last drop of cum falls from the swollen tip. JJ’s eyes lock on yours as he tucks himself away and stands, leaving you in a mess on the floor. You sit up, watching him tug his shirt on and wiping the sweat from his brow on the nearby curtains.

“I didn’t know about any of it.” You finally say, feeling his warm cum start to slide down your chest. JJ shakes his head as he throws the back door open without another backwards glance.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Then the door slams shut behind him.

[touyasdoll]

Kinktober Potion #1: Size Kink ft. Eijirou Kirishima

pairing: Eijirou Kirishima x fem reader

warnings: minors dni, oral (f receiving), much softer than I expected it to be, intimate, please let me know if I missed any <3

word count: 1.5k

Kinktober '24 - The Kinky Cauldron Masterlist

"It's not gonna fit," you say, still ogling the intimidating length and girth of Eijirou's cock in a daze.

"S'gonna fit, baby. I'll make it," he purrs, looming over you in the bed to catch you chin between his thumb and forefinger.

He kisses you, slow and sweet and gentle. It soothes your nerves as he swirls his tongue into your mouth, letting it tangle with yours before he runs it across your bottom lip.

You've both worked up a sweat in your efforts so far, writhing and desperately exploring each others' bodies on top of your bed. His clothes were the first to go and just the outline of him in his boxers was enough to make you doubt how much of him you'll be able to take.

But now that you're here, your body laid bare for him and lost in the heady scent of your clean sheets and his alluring cologne mixed with his natural musk, you've very unsure of your pussy's ability to take on that monster.

"We just gotta work you up to it," he purrs, his lips meeting the skin of your jaw.

He slowly makes his way down your body, leaving featherlight kisses in his wake. Your breath hitches when he arrives at your hips and sucks hard enough to leave a faint mark behind on each of them.

His massive hands grip your hips firmly and even when he's nestled between your thighs, his frame still seems to swallow you whole. His ruby red gaze seems to burn and his mouth turns up on one side in a devastating smirk that sends all of the blood in your body pulsing to your clit.

"You're gonna be just fine, baby," he murmurs against your slit, his warm breath fanning over your most sensitive area before he parts you with his tongue.

"Fuck!" You gasp, letting a lewd moan loose from your throat as your back arches for him.

Your legs fall open, but you can't help but squirm as his tongue starts laving your slit, the tip teasing your entrance and familiarizing itself with your folds.

He groans, laying flat against the mattress to grind his leaking cock against the sheets even as his long legs hang off the bed. His lips wrap around your clit and he begins to suck, gently at first, but steadily gaining pressure as his tongue flicks up and down.

"O-oh my God," you pant, reaching down to push your fingers into his hair. "Please keep doing that. Never stop doing that."

You swear you can feel the grin that spreads across his lips before he doubles his efforts, focusing his mouth on your clit, because he would rather die than deny you this when you sound so pretty asking for it.

Your orgasm is already swelling inside of you when you feel the tip of his long, wide digit nudging into your entrance. He can feel the way you clench before he's even inside and it draws another groan from deep in his chest as his hips continue to roll.

He's desperate to replace his finger with his cock, but he can be patient, because he knows he has to be. He's only here to please you and he knows that no matter how much he works you open, it's still going to sting some when he claims you.

He slowly glides one finger inside, taking your salacious sounds as permission to keep going. He pistons his digit in and out, working it deeper with each pump until he's able to add another.

"Eijirou," you breathe out with what air you have left in your lungs. "M'close. So fucking close."

The pressure on your clit lessens for a moment as he easily slips a third finger inside of you and then he starts devouring your pussy like his life depends on it, working his tongue and fingers in tandem. It doesn't allow you a moment of reprieve, forcing you over the edge in a powerful volley that has you gushing into his mouth.

Stars seem to burst in the edges of your vision and the next thing you know, he's on top of you again. His mouth is slick with the evidence of your orgasm and he lifts a hand to wipe the excess from his chin.

"That should do it," he rasps, his voice a deep promise as he leans down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his skillful tongue.

He pushes himself up and leans back, getting himself positioned to notch the swollen head of his cock against your core. His eyes find your face and he waits for you to look up.

You find a kind reassurance in his gaze as he runs his warm hand along your thigh and gives it a squeeze.

"I'll go slow, okay? If you need me to stop or if I hurt you, just say so," he instructs.

You nod, swallowing the rest of your apprehension as you let your body relax. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching his eyes fall closed as he pushes in an inch.

The gasp that escapes you is inevitable, but seeing the intoxicated look on his face soothes the sting of the initial stretch. He is massive and this is going to take some effort, but fucking this gentle giant of man is going to be worth it.

And fucking him when he feels comfortable enough not to hold back is going to be glorious.

"Keep going," you urge him, offering a little nod of encouragement.

"Fuck, baby," he sighs, resting his weight on one of his hands while the other brackets your hip.

He slowly eases in inch by inch, giving you time to adjust as you trade needy moans and intimate glances. The sight of him filling you up so completely is breathtaking in every sense of the word, but it's nothing compared to the look on his face when he's finally buried inside of you.

"So big," you murmur, keeping your gaze on his as he leans in. "It's so fucking big, Eiji."

"I know," he whispers, his forehead connecting with yours as he cups your face, dwarfing it in his grasp. "I know, baby, but you're doing so fucking good. M'gonna move, okay?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding slightly.

"Good girl," he praises you, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your mouth as he draws back out.

He swallows the groan that leaves you and deepens the kiss, softening the blow as he pushes in again. The stretch hurts, but it feels so good that you don't care.

"Keep going," you pant, resting your hands on either side of his neck. "I can take it. I want it. Please, baby."

"But—," he starts and you cut him off by shifting your hips forward.

Your mouth drops open and so does his, a shuddered moan slipping free from the both of you. His eyes alight with something darker than what you've seen in him so far and it's enough to make your entire body tense in the best way possible.

"Please," you repeat and he obliges, rutting his hips at a steady pace until he's pumping in and out of you with ease.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he groans, quickening his pace as his lips meet your clavicle to start leaving searing kisses across your chest and neck.

He grits his teeth, driving into your faster still, but you can tell he's still definitely holding back. Words have already failed you, so you spur him on by locking your legs around his hips and in response, he looses a feral growl into your ear.

Something snaps in him and he readjusts, tugging you further beneath him to get impossibly deeper as he starts thrusting with abandon. Your cervix feels the brunt of each stroke, creating an overwhelming and all consuming sense of pressure throughout your entire body.

"E-Eiji!" You cry out, digging your nails into his muscular back as you cling to him for dear life.

It does nothing to temper the explosion that rocks you when you cum. The force of it has your body convulsing as you howl with pleasure. A chaotic song of his name laced with curses bounces off the walls and is met with the sound of him practically snarling as your own walls squeeze him so tightly that he has no choice but to follow you into oblivion.

If you first orgasm was disorienting, this one has completely displaced you in the universe. You're only vaguely aware of the weight of him hovering an inch above you, his chest hammering just as hard as your own.

"Holy shit," he sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"Mm," is all that you can muster.

Your eyes are still closed when he carefully collapses beside you and draws you into his arms. His fingertips begin slowly dragging along your spine, sending pleasant shivers through you as you settle into his embrace.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head as his eyes fall closed and he murmurs, "I knew you could take it."

[redwing4life]

mdni

wanna know a bucky trope that sends me spiralling? bucky filming you all drunk on his cock.

imagine your thighs all sticky with cum, the three orgasms bucky’s pulled from you painted across the soft flesh like paint on a canvas. bucky can’t stop tracing his throbbing pink tip over your filthy thighs; his own white seed mixes with yours and you whine at the sound.

“never get tired of this, doll.” bucky’s sultry tone washes over you, your mind scrambled with need. “seeing you all sticky, covered in our cum -fuck- i- i gotta film this, sweets, let me film you, huh?”

a desperate moan falls from your swollen lips when the super soldier pulls away from you, the warmth of his tip no longer pressed into your thighs. in want of your boyfriend, you reach out for him, but he’s already on the other side of the room.

“bucky…” your voice is high and needy, “bucky, baby, come back. i need you.”

his usual arrogant chuckle greets your ears, forcing your thighs closer together to ease the fresh wave of heat flooding your core. you know that laugh, it’s the one he makes whenever you’re drunk on his cock.

bucky crawls back on the bad, hovering over your sweat-sheen body, and brings his phone over your face.

“smile for me, doll.” he orders, the command drawing your brows together in pleasure. you look up at him through your lashes, lids half shut before you focus on the camera.

“there she is.” bucky hums when you grin, albeit tiredly, up at the lens. “tell me how many times i’ve made that sweet little pussy cum, baby. tell the camera.”

“three.” you whine. you watch bucky lower the camera to your dripping cunt as he speaks and start trying to close your legs.

bucky taps your thigh harshly, tutting. “come on, sweets, show your sarge what a mess i’ve made of you.”

his rough palm slides down to your knees and slowly pries them apart, a growl rippling from the base of his throat as you bare yourself to him in submission.

“good girl.”

you keen beneath the camera, pussy throbbing at the praise. a smirk tugs at bucky’s lips while you writhe under him, he knows he’ll enjoy watching that back when he’s on a mission with his hand wrapped around his length.

holding the phone in his vibranium hand, bucky reaches down to run a calloused finger through your glistening folds, the swollen petals quivering at his touch.

“aw, is my sweet princess all sensitive after all those orgasms? huh?”

you claw at his flesh hand, nodding so fast you make yourself even more dizzy than you already are.

“m’so sensitive, sarge, please- pl- oh my god.”

your eyes are rolling to the back of your head before you can finish your sentence as bucky slides a finger into your tight hole. he prays to god that the camera picked up on the squelch of yours and his cum when he pushes inside you.

“fuck, sweets, you’re so goddamn wet, gonna make me nut all over the sheets.” bucky moans, hips rutting against the soft cotton duvet while he works your sex.

sinful sounds echo across the room, bucky’s phone capturing every single thrust of his hand. he adds a second finger, earning a squeal of contest from you.

“no- bucky, i can’t, i cant, it’s too much, please, just one, please.”

your broken pleas do nothing to slow the grind of bucky’s hips against the bed, your whiny voice merely encouraging him to play with his cunt even more.

“yes you can, and you will. you’ve been so good for your sarge so far, haven’t you, princess? tell me how good you’ve been for me.”

you open your mouth to reply, suddenly interrupted by a third finger stretching the walls of your pussy. a gasp falls from your swollen lips and it morphs into a cry of intense pleasure.

“bucky!!!” you scream, accompanied by the sloppy noises of bucky’s palm slapping your wet clit.

“i’m waiting, sweets.”

releasing a small whine, you look down at your boyfriend to find his eyes already on yours.

“i’ve been so good, sarge. just wanted to be a good girl for you, give you all- fuck- all my cum, be your best girl, all drunk on my sarge’s cock and fingers a-and mouth, oh”

his fingers keep curling and hitting that one stop that’s making you see stars and you begin heaving your chest up and down, desperately searching for a breath that would satisfy your needs. bucky turns the camera to your face so he can look back on your writhing body.

“cock’s so hard for you, princess. you’re so fucking beautiful like this, gonna make you cream all over my fingers again and then stuff you full o’ me”

“please sarge, please- ugh- i’m gonna cum!”

“let go sweets, cover me in your sweet juices”

and then you cum and then he cums against the sheets and then he fucks you and the he eats you out and then you clean up his cock with your tongue and then he cleans you up with a cloth and then he runs you a bath and then he holds you till you fall asleep and then a week later on a mission bucky fucks his fist while watching the video and then he cums to it and then he cums to it again and then an hour later he cums to it again and then-

[puck-luck]

congrats on one year andy! absolutely adore your writing.

I’d love to request a mocha with whipped cream for quinn hughes <3 (sub quinn 🤭)

thank you!

thank you nikki!! you are too sweet :,) i hope you enjoy this!!

a good chunk of this is kink negotiation but i just loooove sweet shy q so i couldn't help but add it in. (750 words!)

“You know that thing, um…” Quinn had said just a few hours ago. He looked nervous and sweet and his hand was hesitant on your knee. He was stiff beneath you, tense and worried. You could tell just from his body language that he was nervous about whatever it was he was about to say. 

“What thing, sweet boy?” you asked. Your legs are thrown over his lap and your elbow rests on his shoulder, fingertips tracing his hair. 

“In bed,” Quinn offers, seeming to avoid your gaze.

You chuckle softly. “What thing in bed?”

Quinn looks down, tapping his thumb against your skin. “That thing you ask me to do… sometimes.”

“You’re very specific, Q,” you tease with a slight smile. Despite the fact that you’re having to drag all the information out of Quinn, the adoration you feel never leaves your eyes. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know how to…”

You blink slowly, like a cat, then touch the mole on Quinn’s cheek. “Take your time, lovely.”

It takes about an hour to draw all of the information out of Quinn. He stuttered through the admission, starting with “I like how relaxed you get” and ending with “but we don’t have to if you don’t… want to…”

“Sweetheart,” you said with a smile. “I’ll try anything you want me to, you know that. I might not be good at it.”

“You’ll be great, I know it,” Quinn replied. “I just want to try it.”

That’s how you ended up here, straddling Quinn’s lap, naked as the day you were born. His boxers are on, although it does nothing to hide how hard he is. You can feel a wet spot forming on the fabric, the precum bubbling from his slit and seeping into the cotton. His hands are raised above his head, fisted in place against the pillow. Every time he touches you, you force his hands back into place and roll your hips until he’s squirming and spewing warnings that he’s going to come. Then, you freeze and practice patience. You’ve gotten very, very good at it since you started dating Quinn. 

He, however, is not so good at being patient.

Quinn is panting, eyes flying over your expression as he waits for something to happen. “Are you– are you going to start moving again?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “When I’m ready.”

“Baby, I am so–”

“Close? Are you close?” you interrupt, smiling wide. “Did I get that right?”

Quinn pouts. “Stop, it’s not funny,” he complains. 

“Do you want me to stop, Q?” You roll your hips and coax another bead of precum from his slit. You nod at him, encouraging him to speak with your eyes. “We can stop right now, if that’s what you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t stop, just…”

“Hm?”

Quinn brings his hands down to your waist, but he can’t get a good grip before you take him by the wrists and push his fists back into place.

“Baby,” Quinn relents, pushing his hips up against your cunt. “Please.”

You lean forward, lips brushing his as you whisper. “What do you think, Q? Is it nice, letting me decide? Are you frustrated?”

Quinn’s eyelashes flutter, chin lifting so that he can capture your lips.

You sit up, out of Quinn’s reach, and start to slowly grind against him. 

“I haven’t… decided yet,” Quinn says.

You nod and speed up your movements. “Trust me, baby, I think you’ll like it by the time I’m done with you. Let go, baby, let me take care of you.”

Quinn’s lips part and his bottom lip trembles in surprise. “Take… take care of me?”

“That’s what you do for me,” you explain. You place your palms on Quinn’s chest. “Isn’t it?”

He blinks at you, silent. Realization has taken over his features and he’s… relaxed beneath you. No longer tense, no longer hesitant, no longer fighting back.

“Are you going to come?” you ask.

“Yes,” Quinn says softly.

“You are?” You pulse the muscles in your thighs, barely bouncing on Quinn’s cock. It’s just enough that he can sense the change and slam his eyes shut. “Now?”

“When you tell me to,” Quinn rushes out. His hands twitch on the pillow, but remain in place.

You lick your bottom lip, humming contentedly. “Good boy,” you praise under your breath.

Quinn shivers all the same, and when his eyes open, they’re spacey.

Right where you want him.

[claudaze]

𓏲 ˖. ♡̷̸ needle & nerve ⤿ ( 黄冠亨 )

cw. ⋮ smut .ᐟ mild dom!hendery. mdni. ﾒ 紀要 your tattoo artist’s flirting gets a lot more serious when you can’t sit still for him.

you sit on the leather chair, spine straight despite the way it sticks slightly to your skin with every shift. the soft hiss of the machine buzzes somewhere behind you, but it hasn’t started yet. instead, there’s only the rustle of gloves and the low hum of music filtering through the shop’s worn speakers. your heartbeat is louder than both.

hendery hasn’t said much since you walked in, just a flash of a smile when he called your name and a slow once-over that started at your shoes and didn’t end until his gaze met yours again. now, he stands just beside you, fingers gloved, clean and cool as they adjust the angle of your arm. his touch is professional, but something about it isn’t.

maybe it’s the way his palm lingers against the underside of your bicep. maybe it’s the way his thumb presses just slightly into the soft inside of your elbow when he angles your arm closer to him. maybe it’s how close he’s standing — hip nearly brushing yours as he leans in to inspect the stencil he laid a few minutes ago.

“you good?” he murmurs, not looking up. his voice is casual, almost bored, but the smirk on his lips betrays him. “nervous?”

you breathe in through your nose and let it out through your mouth, steady, even. “no. not really.”

“hm.” he tilts his head, finally glancing up at you. dark eyes flick to your face, then lower to your shoulder where you’ve pushed your sleeve up. “first tattoo?”

“no,” you say, “but first one.. this visible.”

hendery smiles at that, a slow curl of lips, like he knows what that means. the design you picked is delicate. it curves up your upper arm, near your shoulder, floral with thin lines and sharp points. it’s not big but it shows. and that’s enough to change how you feel, sitting here under the low light with his hands on you.

he hums again and clicks the machine on with a flick of his wrist. the buzz fills the air instantly. you feel your breath catch.

“alright,” he says, more to himself than you. “don’t move.”

the first sting is sharp. a fine needle dragging just under the skin, too light to hurt, too exact to ignore. you keep your body still, arm tensed, breathing shallow. he notices, of course.

“relax,” he murmurs. his free hand rests on your skin just beneath the needle, anchoring you. his thumb strokes once, soothing, right along the crease where your arm meets your side. “you’re all stiff. i’ll mess it up if you keep flinching like that.”

you hadn’t realized you were. but now that he says it, you feel the tension radiating from your core, the kind that’s less about pain and more about proximity. it’s the way his voice dips low when he concentrates. it’s the way his hand grips tighter whenever you shift even slightly.

it’s the heat of him, so close, so steady, while you’re trying to pretend you’re not starting to squirm under the pressure of it all. he draws another line — slower this time, and deeper — and you breathe in sharply, body twitching in a knee-jerk reaction.

hendery pauses.

his hand tightens on your arm, holding you in place.

“you twitch like that again and i’ll have to hold you down.”

your stomach flips. he doesn’t look up from your skin. the needle stills in his hand, hovering just above the spot he’d been working on. his thumb presses into your arm with just enough force to make you hold your breath.

he lets the silence sit there between you for a moment, lets the words settle into your skin the same way the ink does. slowly. deeply. permanently.

“but maybe that’s what you want,” he adds, almost thoughtfully. “mm?”

you should’ve said something. maybe a nervous laugh. maybe a clipped joke to break the heat between your legs. but the words never make it past your throat, not when he leans in closer, one hand on your skin and the other steady with the machine, acting like he didn’t just threaten to pin you down in the most casual, cocky tone you’ve ever heard.

your head’s too full to form a sentence anyway.

he keeps working, methodical and focused. not with how his touch lingers longer than it needs to, not with how his fingers flex against your skin like he’s thinking about gripping harder, dragging lower. every time you twitch — and you do, because the needle dances so close to the thinnest parts of your skin — his hand reacts. presses. soothes. controls.

and then comes the worst part, or maybe the best. he starts talking again.

“you’re doing good,” he says softly. too softly. “tensing like that.. mm. makes me wonder where else you’d tighten up if i touched you the right way.”

your breath stutters. his eyes are still down, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, like he knows exactly what kind of mess he’s making out of you without ever having to look.

you swallow thickly. your thighs press together, instinctive. he doesn’t miss that either.

“you alright?” he murmurs, voice dipped in mock concern, though it’s dragged through something filthier underneath. “you’re all squirmy now.”

you nodded, but you shouldn’t. it’s not a real answer. he pauses again. slowly sets the machine down.

“look at me.”

his hand is still on your arm, the spot where he’s been working ink now flushed red. the glove is streaked slightly, sterile and stained. but it’s the look on his face that roots you in place — cool, unreadable, and absolutely full of intent.

“you’re not just twitching,” he says, fingers dragging down the length of your arm now, slow. deliberate. “you’re shaking.”

you open your mouth to argue — something, anything — but he beats you to it, crowding in closer until your knees are brushing and the air between you crackles with static.

“tell me to stop,” he says simply, voice just above a whisper, “and i will.”

but you didn't said anything, instead, you exhale shakily, body tipping forward just a little. and that’s all he needs. hendery shifts fast. his hand moves up, gloved palm cupping your jaw with firm pressure as he tilts your head back. his mouth finds yours — open, hot, demanding.

you kissed him back. desperately. immediately. your hand fists in the front of his shirt, tugging him closer until your thighs are flush, heat pressing against heat. he groans into your mouth, low and guttural, and when you shift your hips even slightly against his — testing the friction — his grip tightens.

“fuck,” he mutters, breaking the kiss, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re gonna make me ruin this whole stencil.”

you gasp, lips swollen, chest heaving under your shirt. “then stop teasing.”

hendery grins, breathless and wild.

“not a fucking chance.”

and then he’s pulling you out of the chair and pushing you gently — but firmly — back onto the clean padded table behind him, the one usually meant for longer sessions. the vinyl is cool against your thighs as you sit up, and the second you’re down, his hands are on your hips, spreading your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

his gloved fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, teasing along your waist as his mouth finds your neck, jaw, collarbone, all biting kisses and soft grunts against your skin.

“fuck, you’re burning up,” he mutters into your throat. “that get you off? me talking like that while i worked on you?”

you didm’t answer, you know you didn’t need to. he feels the way you grind against him, the way your hips jerk when he presses closer.

his mouth ghosts along your ear.

“bet you’re soaked. and i haven’t even touched you there yet.”

but gosh, you want him to. so you gave him your permission, reaching for his hands while your other hand snakes at the back of his neck.

that was all he needed. so his hand slides under the waistband, he works his way past the fabric and straight into the heat of you, still grinning against your skin when he feels just how wet you already are.

“fuck,” he groans, voice low, reverent. “you really let me talk to you like that while dripping like this?”

you gasp when he slides his fingers down, featherlight at first, just barely ghosting over your clit, teasing you with what he could do, what you need him to do. his free hand holds your thigh open, thumb pressing into the inside like he’s claiming space. the glove’s still on one hand, but the other is bare now, and it’s that one he uses to press in — slow, thick, deep.

your head falls back.

“shit—hendery.”

he laughs quietly, breath warm against your throat. “yeah, say my name again.”

he pushes two fingers in with ease. curls them just right, just enough to make your legs twitch and your hips jump. his hand fucking into you steadily now, fingers working you open while his thumb rolls lazily over your clit.

your thighs clench on instinct, but he shifts forward, caging you in with his body, keeping you open. he’s still fully clothed. he hasn’t even undone his belt. and yet here you are, coming apart under him like he’s already inside you.

“look at you,” he mutters, lips brushing yours, “so fucking soft under my hands. like you want me to ruin this table.”

you moan into his mouth, your hand gripping his wrist, not to stop him — to anchor yourself.

“hendery, please—”

“what?” he tilts his head, fingers pumping faster. “please what, baby? you want me to make you come right here? where anyone could walk in?”

you nod helplessly, your body already betraying you — hips bucking, breath catching, cunt tightening around his fingers like it’s begging.

“fuck, you’re close,” he groans, “don’t hold back. let me feel you fall apart on my hand.”

he kisses you again, deep, messy, tongue sweeping into your mouth as his fingers fuck you harder, slick sounds filling the small space between your thighs. his thumb never stops moving, never lets up, and when you finally break — break, not just came — your whole body stutters under his, a cry caught in your throat as your back arches off the table.

he holds you through it, hand still working you, voice all praise in your ear.

“that’s it. good girl. fuck, look at that.”

you whimper, oversensitive, but he doesn't move away just yet, he draws it out, keeps his fingers inside until you're shaking, thighs trembling around him. then, slowly, he slides them out. watches the way your cunt clenches at the loss. how you twitch one last time from the aftershocks.

hendery pulls the glove off with a snap and licks the other hand clean, eyes locked on you the whole time.

“i should’ve pulled you in here the first time you came by,” he murmurs. “but i wanted to see how long you’d last.”

you’re still breathless, heart racing, skin hot from the inside out. “you’re a menace,” you whisper hoarsely.

he leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth, gentle now. “i’m your menace.”

it took you a moment to come back to earth. your legs are still parted, skin warm, your heart beating like it’s trying to punch through your chest. and hendery — well. he’s still got that smug, flushed look on his face, like he just did something unholy and is damn proud of it.

which is.. fair.

he smooths his hands over your thighs, slower now, his earlier teasing replaced with something quieter. tender. he rubs soft circles into your skin, then reaches for a clean towel from the nearby drawer.

he carefully wipes between your thighs, mumbling a distracted “tell me if it’s too much” as he works.

you just watch him.

this is new — this version of him. sure, the flirt’s still there, it’s never far from the surface. but the way his brows furrow now, the way he glances at your face for signs of discomfort, the way he holds the back of your knee with one hand to keep you steady. it’s all… thoughtful and.. real? real.

“you good?” he asks after a moment, tossing the towel aside and leaning over you again. he cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek. “you still with me, sweetheart?”

you nod. your voice comes out softer than you expect. “yeah. i’m here.”

his grin returns, lazy and fond. “yeah, you are. laid out like a masterpiece. you sure you’re not trying to one-up your own tattoo?”

you chuckled and swat weakly at his chest. “you’re so full of shit.”

“mm. maybe.” he presses a kiss to your temple, then helps you sit up, his hands at your waist like he’s worried you’ll wobble and fall off the table. you kind of might. he smells like clean sweat and ink and something familiar underneath it all. him.

“i’m not finished, by the way,” he adds casually, tapping your arm where the half-done stencil still lives. “gonna need you back in my chair again.”

“what, after that?” you raise an eyebrow, smirking. “how do you expect me to sit still when you just finger-fucked me like you were carving it into muscle memory?”

he makes a sound — this low, strangled groan that might be a laugh, might be a curse. “don’t say shit like that unless you want another round right here.”

“maybe i do.”

“damn, you’re dangerous.”

you smile, slow and smug now, catching the way his eyes drag down your body one more time. but then he’s already tugging your shorts gently back up your thighs, fingers grazing your skin like a promise. he didn’t rush, he lets you come down slow.

“if it helps,” he murmurs, straightening your shirt next, “i’ve never done that in here before.”

you blink, caught off guard. “yeah?”

“yeah.” he leans against the table next to you now, arms folded loosely, watching your face like it’s part of the artwork. “thought about it. a lot. but you’re the first person i’ve ever touched here.”

your cheeks burn hotter than your post-orgasm flush. “also,” he adds, tapping your nose, “gonna need you to come back in for touch-ups. strictly professional. unless you start twitching again.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re still wet.”

you smack his arm. he cackles. and oh, you’re for sure coming back for him.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

One of your "It's a Match" chapters gave me an idea. LOVE that series btw!

What if Gaz is a virgin so Simon let's him lose his virginity with his gf? Simon is there to guide Gaz and make sure he does it right so you get as much pleasure out of it as needed. Then you give Gaz the ride of his life while Simon controls when and where he gets to cum. The poor man whimpering beneath you from the edging and denial until he finally gets permission to cum.

Sub!Gaz x Dom!Simon x Switch!Reader

(Feel free to ignore this as well.)

Took some creative liberties with the prompt and made Switch!Reader a mean/brat tamer domme even if Gaz isn’t necessarily a brat (just felt more practical for me to do it). Sue me.

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x F!Reader x Ghost

Rating: E Words: 4.7K (this one got away from me sorry) Pairing: virgin!Gaz x gf!Reader x bf!Simon CW: smut, voyeurism, hotwifing, domination/submission, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), unprotected piv, fairly rough/forceful sex (BUT CONSENSUAL), praise, slight verbal degradation?, body mods (piercings). other tags: pre-established couple, loss of virginity, pre-agreed upon conditions, consent checks, no beta we die like soap. a/n: no thoughts, just vibes. NOT PROOFREAD

Simon first brought it up one sleepy Sunday evening, when you two were lying side by side in bed, his arms snaked around you as you read an e-book, his eyes glued to the TV on an episode of some crime show.

“You know,” He had said, Roman nose rubbing the top of your head affectionately. “I’d like to run something by you.”

“Hm?” You cooed as you rolled your head back on his chest to look up at him.

“So Kyle has this problem,” Simon began to explain as he looked down at you, brown eyes peering through his blonde lashes.

That got your senses tingling and you immediately set aside the tablet to dedicate your attention to the topic at hand, turning your body to properly face him, your arm coming to rest on his shoulder.

“What kind of problem?” You questioned, an eyebrow raising in intrigue.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched lightly, a tell-tale sign he was about to bring up something ‘embarrassing’, some good gossip. “Go on!” You immediately insisted, catching the little microexpressions on his face.

“He’s a virgin.” Simon revealed, causing you to gasp, pulling your head back and shaking it in confusion.

“NO?!” You said in shock. “With that pretty face of his?” You blinked.

“I know.” Simon says and then cocks a brow upward. “So what do you say?”

You didn’t need clarification, you simply smirked and shot him a look.

-

That’s how you ended up here.

Simon made all the arrangements, established rules with Kyle, and finally brought him over the that following Friday.

“You sure about this, sir?” Kyle asks, ever respectfully, sat on your living room couch, with you by his side, Simon sitting across from you on the arm chair by the chandelier.

“As sure as anyt’in’.” Your boyfriend replies and casts a glance at you. “You sure, da’lin’?”

“100% sure.” You answer, before glancing at Kyle. “Are you sure about it?”

“I… I am. But… It’s… It’s your relationship, I don’t want to cause an issue.” Kyle tells you, looking at you sheepishly, dark lashes fluttering anxiously over those stunning brown eyes of his.

“It’s not our first time doing this, I’m sure Simon’s told you all about it.” You reply in a reassuring tone.

“I know but…” Kyle says as he looks at you, your hand on his knee, finger drawing light circles on the denim of his pants.

“We’ll start off slow, at your pace. If ever there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll stop.” You assure him. “Simon’s here for that, after all… Not just for my sake, but yours too.” You add.

Kyle nods and gulps down a deep breath, casting one last glance at the form of his lieutenant, sat imposingly on the arm chair, legs spread open, lounging without a car in the world. One of his legs is bent near the seat, the other stretched across, foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, and arms resting comfortably on the rests, one of his hands holding a tumbler of Bourbon. His head is cocked to the side with interest.

The young sergeant nods again and slowly leans toward you. One of his hand tentatively wraps around your hip, fingers grazing the expanse of your ass in the shorts you’re wearing, while the other grabs you around the back of the neck, his lips connecting to yours.

Your warm, wet tongue swirling with his, soft breaths and gasps coming from your mouth as you let him take the lead for a moment... it’s all making his confidence grow. Sure, he’ll need guidance eventually, but for now he’s got this.

His hand slides to cup your ass, grabbing it with a greedy grasp, squeezing his fingers into the thickness, the other sinking into your hair, fingers gently clutching your scalp as they tug into the hairs.

He’s kissed plenty of people before, this isn’t new for him, and yet, it still feels completely different, in the way you’re not ‘his’ to kiss. But, somehow, that makes it all the better.

Slowly, your lips separate and you glance up at him a single look to check on his state and he nods imperceptibly, which causes your hands to slide down his chest and begin feeling him up.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you atop of him, hands sliding under the fabric of your top to feel up your back as your own find the hem of his t-shirt and tug it up to expose his chest.

Your fingers trace his pecs, his abs, nails softly drawing down atop him, making him shiver. He’s younger than Simon, his skin infinitely smoother, his body fat percentage definitely lower, not a trace of hair on him. It’s so different from your boyfriend… And you welcome the change.

You help him take off his t-shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side and then lower your mouth onto his jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones… You’ve barely started and the poor kid looks like he’s already seeing the universe and all its stars, his cock having sprung to attention so quickly that the bulge in his pants keeps rubbing against your inner thigh.

Slowly, you slip down from atop of him, your hands sliding down his body as you kneel before him on the floor, hands tracing over his thighs in the jeans he’s wearing, fingers squeezing his strong muscles through the fabric.

“You’ve never gotten a bj before, have you?” You ask him, eyebrows cocked and eyes locked onto his face. He shakes his head immediately, muttering something about ‘getting a handy’ back in secondary but that was the extent of it.

“Poor thing.” You coo at him. “Never got to feel a pretty mouth wrapped around that cock, hm?” Yo teased him playfully, watching how his eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching pitifully, as you undid his belt and tugged down his jeans.

“You’re in good hands, Garrick. She’ll take good care of you. Has a very talented throat.” Simon pipes up behind you. You don’t even have to look behind you to spot the smirk on his lips, the way the dulcet of his voice comes just short of a boast and a brag of how lucky he himself is, and how lucky Kyle is that Simon was willing to share you.

You help Kyle out of his sneakers and jeans before beginnin to palm him through the black cotton of his boxer briefs, his cock already peeking up from behind the waistband, leaking precum in anticipation. “Someone’s eager, hm? Are you excited, Kyle?” You quip to him.

“Mhm. Very. Very!” Kyle nods, his eyes glued to every single movement of yours, from the way your hands palm at his bulge, to how your fingers caress his smooth skin, to how they hook onto the waistband and roll down his underwear, peeling it off his body.

He’s big, bigger than Simon, even, though not as thick… He’s circumcised and he’s perfectly shaven. You wonder if he did that for your sake, or his own preference. There’s a thick vein running down the underside of him, one you can’t wait to feel pulse against your tongue.

Taking his cock in your hand, you stroke it slowly before allowing your tongue to run atop of it, base to tip, your tongue gently grazing the leaky tip, spreading the precum over the head before slowly parting your lips and guiding him inside.

The moan that escapes the boy in front of you makes you smirk, he twitches below you, fingers clenching on either side of his thighs, as if resisting squeezing into tight fists as you slowly allow his cock to slide deeper into your mouth. Then, you start bobbing it, up and down, cheeks hollowed out and lips grazing the warm skin leaving a mess of saliva around him.

Kyle’s quick to react this time, his hand grabbing you by your hair, legs trembling on either side of you. Your eyes shoot up to find his, only to find that his head is falling back onto the back of the couch, eyes screwed closed, mouth hanging open like he’s experiencing an out of body experience.

“He’s certainly enjoying himself, isn’t he?” Simon remarks behind you, receiving a finger signal from you, a sign of agreement, a preestablished way of communicating, since your mouth was busy. “That feel good, Kyle?”

“Y-Yeah… Yeah… I-It… God…” Kyle groans in between swallowed breaths. Poor thing, you want to coo at him, already too lost in the pleasure to even speak… Oh, how beautiful he’ll look soon, fucked out under you, drunk on your pussy…

You don’t notice Simon coming up from behind you until you feel his hand grip your head, atop of Kyle’s, calloused fingers digging into your scalp. His other hand shoots out to grab Kyle’s head from the back, pulling it forward so he’s forced to stare at you.

Then, your head is shoved forward, Kyle’s cock sliding down your throat with no warning Simon’s hand holding you in place, while Kyle’s eyes widen and an obscene moan escapes his mouth. Simon controls your head, pulling and pushing you onto Kyle’s hip. 

It’s no wonder that Kyle’s whole body starts to tremble, eyes widened and having trouble staying focused, or open, mouth left wide open as Simon makes him fuck the back of your throat, experienced eyes keeping watch of your reactions and signals and of Kyle’s…

He’s controlling the speed at which you go, how deep you take his cock down his throat, how much of a mess you make with your spit, and how long you get to breathe whenever he pulls you off before pushing you back on. A reminder. He’s always in control.

“Come down her pretty throat, go on, Garrick.” Simon demands. Kyle, poor thing, has already been holding on with teeth and nails to keep himself from climaxing too soon, wanting to prove himself as more than just inexperienced… But Simon’s order is so severe, he can’t keep it up… And he lets go, twitching in your mouth and shooting his come down your throat.

Simon lets go of you both, giving you a moment to catch your breaths, brown eyes staring at the result of what you just did, you, out of breath, a mess of drool down your chin, and eyes welled up with tears, and Kyle, out of breath, a mess of drool around the base of his cock, and eyes glazed over.

“Good job, da’lin’...” Simon tells you, pulling you up ever so slightly, kissing you sweetly, his tongue piercing flicking across your tongue, as if he’s looking for a taste of Kyle in your throat. 

After a moment, he pulls back and looks at Kyle. “Now, you’re gonna thank her for the favour she made ya, hm?” He warns. “Let’s take this to the bed. C’mon.” He demands, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom, leaving Kyle to have to keep up.

Simon, unlike you, is a practical man. He doesn’t waste time. By the time Kyle has made it to the bedroom after barely 20 seconds, he’s already got you naked and splayed atop the mattress, a pillow placed under your hips.

He’s on his knees in front of you and beckons Kyle closer with two fingers, before he uses those same two fingers to rub over your folds and spread them open, revealing just how wet you’ve gotten from merely giving Kyle head. “You see that?” Simon coos at him while you stare at them both, holding yourself up on your elbows.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Kyle replies with a nod, his own hand reaching to touch you, carefully sliding between your puffy lips, gliding across easily through the slick. 

Simon grabs Kyle’s wrist and carefully guides it across to your clit, finding it with the speed of a man that’s been fucking you often since you two started dating. He knows your body, knows you better than anyone, and he’s about to show Kyle exactly how to touch you to get you to fall apart like he does…

You immediately stiffen up when you feel the pads of Kyle’s fingers against your clit, the pressure behind them coming from Simon’s hand as he rolls his fingers in light circles. It’s familiar and it immediately causes you to hum in pleasure and hiss, lying yourself back on the mattress.

“Ideally, you always keep something touch that needy little clit there.” Simon explains, more like he’s giving an anatomy lesson than having a threesome. “Be it a tongue, a finger, what have you.”

Simon’s hand then slides Kyle’s fingers away, making you whimper from the loss of contact. “Be patient, da’lin’, you’ll get more soon.” He quips. “Needy girl… Thought you were going to be all bossy with Kyle, now look at you…” He coos. 

Simon turns Kyle’s hand over and, using his own hand, parts your puffy cunny before helping Kyle push two digits into your slick warmth. Kyle’s fingers are no biggy, not thick and calloused like Simon’s, and they’re surprisingly easy to take on. You moan softly at them, before becoming just a bit more vocal when Kyle’s fingers pad over your G-spot when Simon curls them just so.

“Right there, you see that?” Simon beckons, Kyle responding with mild agreement that you don’t even register because, soon, his fingers start moving, fucking in and out you per Simon’s instruction, while your boyfriend’s tongue quickly finds your clit, the cold piercing rubbing and flicking at your most sensitive spot, causing your back to arch on the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Simon…” You whine, legs already shaking, more so per the stimulation, which causes your boyfriend to use both of his free hands to keep your knees spread open as far as he could comfortably get them, tongue still lapping up at you with purposeful strokes.

The shaggy blond hair of your boyfriend vanishes for a moment, as does the experienced tongue touching you, before it gets replaced with Kyle’s slightly messier and uncoordinated attempts, Simon observing Kyle and noting your reactions and how much weaker they are, upset at the lack of proper stimulation.

“C’mon, Garrick…” Simon croons. “Your tongue’s sharp enough to roast Johnny, but you get here and it gets shy?” He taunts, before using his hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck to guide him a bit.

“I’m trying…” Kyle remarks, his face feeling warm against your skin, showing he’s likely blushing despite his darker complexion hiding it, his fingers still moving in the way Simon taught him, his only saving grace.

“Scoot.” Simon remarks and pushes his head aside, ever so slightly, causing him to rest against your thigh. Simon’s head pushes in near Kyle’s, resting against your other thigh, and his tongue catches your clit again, though the angle at he’s at now, slightly at an angle, allows Kyle to spot the way Simon moves his tongue: soft circles, zigzagging side to side, lips also rubbing against you.

Kyle watches closely, eyes widened, pupils blown with lust at the sight of Simon’s face so close and going down on you so eagerly, his eyes glued to your face up top, as if checking every single reaction you have to your boyfriend’s mouth. And react you do. Your moans are louder, jumpy, desperate, your hands grabbing the bed covers and squeezing tight, your cunt seeking Simon’s mouth as you fuck yourself onto it.

Kyle wasn’t the type to watch porn often, having little time and little interest in it, more so because he knew it wasn’t a good habit or realistic to expect it to be realistic… But the sight of Simon’s lips sucking and rubbing into your slick like it was the most delicious meal he’s ever gotten to eat was better than any of the porn he’s actually seen.

Simon’s able to make you come undone in a matter of minutes, the whimpers and needy moans, the shallow breaths, the way your head was left spinning, lolling to the side as Simon eased you down from your peak and then dropped a chaste kiss to your thigh before standing up again. 

“You saw that?” He teases Kyle, who nods eagerly, no words coming to his lips after the display he just got. “You’ll get there eventually. With practise.” He assures him before patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Up you go.”

“How are you doing, da’lin’?” Simon asks, checking on you as you nod and show him a thumbs up, causing a chuckle to come from his chest before he takes a seat in another armchair in the corner, a spot he usually uses when having insomnia, right by the windows, to work on his laptop while you sleep near him… Except this time being used for something else.

“Go on, then, continue.” He demands as he sprawls out on the armchair, legs spread and already undoing his belt and fly, seeking relief from the tight feeling in his own jeans.

You nod eagerly and quickly shift to be sat on the bed, pulling Kyle toward you. “You still want this?” You ask him as you look him in the eyes… As if Kyle, needy the way he is now, after the sight of you coming undone on Simon’s tongue, would ever be able to answer anything other than a resounding ‘YES!’.

“Mhm… I do.” Kyle assures you with another nod… So, you kiss again, hands sliding over each other’s bodies just like they had on the couch before, exploring the free skin, allowing Kyle to grope you more easily. He seems fixated on your ass and thighs, fingers kneading the extra meat in them and holding you close.

His cock has long recovered from his first orgasm, now rubbing against your tummy as he kneels in front of you on the mattress. But not for long. Soon, you’ve laid Kyle on his back, and you’re straddling him, one leg on either side, slowly rubbing your folds over the length of his veiny cock.

“You’re gonna take ‘im for a right, da’lin’?” Simon asks, your eyes seeking him out in his armchair. The way you’re positioned, he can see all of you. Your pretty tits, the way your lips spread to rub against Kyle’s shaft, your legs parted open and knees digging into the mattress.

“Mhm…” You reply, your expression having shifted once again from the needy, submissive mess he had made of you, to a more dominant, playful one as you look down at the sergeant below you, looking up at you like he knows he’s in for a wild one.

“Go on then… But try not to break him, yeah?” Simon teases and winks at you, his hand already palming his cock through his own black boxer briefs.

“No promises…” You quip in return and wink back, before, carefully reaching a hand forward to lift Kyle’s cock from its resting spot against his hip.

Slowly, you sink yourself into it, his narrower build a lot easier to accommodate than Simon’s girth… But you soon regret how eagerly you did it, when you feel Kyle’s sheer size slip inside easily, his tip striking your cervix forcefully with that one swft motion.

“Bloody hell…” You grunt and bounce back a bit to relieve the pressure. “You’re big, aren’t you?” You tease Kyle who’s already unresponsive, poor little thing, eyes twice as wide as they had been when you gave him head, barely nodding in response.

Shifting your weight around, you plant your feet on either side of Kyle’s hip. “I’m gonna move, okay?” You warn him, setting your open palms on his thighs, behind your back, earning another nod from Kyle.

Slowly, you start to ride him, each bounce of your hips drawing the most delicious moans out of Kyle, his head lolling back over the foot of the bed, eyelids fluttering and his back arching.

“Gah- Fuck-” Kyle grunts, his breath already ragged before you’ve had time to do anything, just slowly moving, feeling his lengthy size rub against your walls as you force him to bottom out every time.

Kyle’s voice gets higher, whinier, his forehead dribbling with sweat with each thrust you force his cock to deliver into your slick cunny. “Feels… so… sososo so good…” He whimpers, his tone almost pathetic.

“Yeah… does it feel good?” You croon at him, a mischievous smirk on your lips, his cock drawing soft moans off your mouth as well.

“Yeah… yeah… yeah…” Kyle nods needily, his breath staggered and swallowing excess saliva.

“Yeah? Was it all you were expecting, pretty boy?” You tease him some more, earning another handful of needy ‘Yeah’s, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to consider saying anything else. “You don’t want me to go faster then, do you?”

“No… no… faster…” He replies, his head shooting forward, clearly eager to experience what ‘faster’ would feel like.

“Oh? Then you were lying? It doesn’t feel good, you need it faster?” You croon at him as if he was behaving like a brat and not like the good boy he really was.

“No… nO… it’s- it’s-!” Kyle tries to reply, desperate to clear the misunderstanding. Not that you give him time for it, as you speed up the speed of your bouncing, taking him in harder with each strike of your hips coming down onto his.

“GOD- YES!” Kyle shouts, eyes shot open and back curling upward, his head snapping forward to look at you and watch the way your pussy swallows every inch of his veiny cock, before letting out a huff and falling back on the bed again, desperate for more.

His hands grab onto your thighs and hips, fingers digging in hard, as you ride him, sweat beginning to slide down your forehead, down your cheeks and neck. Your eyes flitter over to Simon in the corner.

The smug fucker is watching everything with a nasty little half-grin on his lips, brown eyes darkened with lust as he watches you play with Kyle, making him squirm and whimper below you.

“Play with your clit for me, da’lin’.” His voice rings out amidst the frequent and whiney moans coming from Kyle. One of your hands slips away from Kyle’s thigh behind you, finding your clit and rubbing it slowly as you keep bouncing atop of Kyle, hips stuttering lightly as the pleasure becomes more intense.

“That’s it…” Simon says with a chuckle from his armchair, fisting his cock leisurely, as if the sight in front of him wasn’t worth any more from him. “How’s his cock feel, da’lin’?” Your boyfriend asks you.

He’s playing with your head, much like you’re playing with Kyle’s… making you go back and forth between a submissive and dominant mind frame, deriving pleasure from the mind games he’s forcing you to take on.

“It’s big…” You whimper in reply. “So big…” You murmur, your eyes soft and needy as you look at your boyfriend, watching the wicked look in his face..

“Don’t look at me, look at him…” Simon tells you. “Fuck ‘im right, he deserves it.” Simon adds. “Poor lad, been so long without experiencing a pussy…” He teases. “ow’s it feel, Garrick?” He turns his attention, and yours, to the sergeant below you.

Kyle nods pathetically. “Y-Yeah… It’s- Ah-” He whimpers, eyes glazed over with pleasure, too far gone in it, too overwhelmed with the feeling of a warm, wet pussy sheathing his virgin cock.

He’s too fucked out to think… And you’re bound to join him soon enough, with the way he looks below you, your fingers playing with your clit, and his cock swiftly hitting a spot inside you that no man’s ever reached before…

Your hips stutter atop of Kyle’s, your legs straining and tired, sore from the rhythm and position. You shift positions, leaning forward, hands coming to rest on his hard pecs, your head hanging atop of Kyle’s, facing him better.

You grind back and forth, trying to regain strength to continue, feeling Kyle’s tip rubbing deep inside of you, so deep and hard… You can’t help but whine.

“She’s getting tired, Kyle. Go on, it’s your turn.” Your boyfriend quips, his voice dripping with power and command over the two of you.

Kyle didn’t need to be told twice, his arms wrapped around your lower back and he bucked up like a bull, tossing you both aside, the bed creaking with the movement. Whatever insecurity he had is gone.

He pushes your thighs apart with his hip and starts pistoning into you with barely any regard for rhythm or how deep he’s going, his face buried into your neck as he plows into you, grunting and whining like an animal in rut. Not that you mind.

You’re used to Simon (and sometimes a few other mutual ‘friends’ of yours), men who are experienced, who know what to do, how to do it, who aren’t sloppy or erratic, who’s hips don’t jerk with each plunge into your warm cunny… It’s completely different with a bloke like Kyle. Inexperienced, green, but eager and desperate and…

You’re moaning loud and often, nails clawing at his smooth scarless back, eyes rolling as each snap of his hips claps against you like a whip, his cock burying into you to the hilt and back out before plunging back in.

Once more, Simon’s quick to come to your side, quick to crouch by the side of the bed, eyes admiring the way you both act and move, to keep a keen eye on your reactions and his, ready to pull him off you like a mutt that’ll hurt his mate if the owner doesn’t make him dismount…

But he doesn’t intervene. Not when you’re moaning like a whore, with Kyle sweating and grunting atop you, his eyes screwed shut and looking like he’ll lose every and any ounce of restraint he has in the next 3 seconds, somehow pulling the will to go on from sheer fucking air.

“You gonna flood ‘er little cunt with your come, aren’t you, Kyle?” Simon coos as he rests his forearms on the mattress, a perch to watch better.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah!” Kyle replies with an eager nod, eyes opening for a moment to look at Simon who’s so close to him.

“Yeah? Are you?” Simon continues egging him on. “You gonna fill my girl with your load?” He adds, his voice dropping to a more authoritative tone.

“Y-YEAH!” Kyle raises his voice, a bit more determined, but still deep in his natural state… obedient, ready to die for his superior, for his lieutenant.

“Go on, then,” Simon demands. “I wanna see. I wanna see you fill ‘er up.” He adds. “Tell ‘er you’re gonna do it.”

Kyle’s head turns a bit to look at you, his warm brown eyes blown wide with lust and desperation, his skin slick with sweat, his plump lips parted to let in desperate gulps of air.

“‘m gonna…” Kyle grunts as he shifts his weight lightly, his nose leaning against yours. “Gonna put my come so… deep inside you…” He warns you.

The look in his eyes, the desperation in his tone, the warning tone of his that does not at all fit his personality… Somehow it all comes together to rip the filthiest orgasm out of you, your head rolling back, eyes squeezing shut and a loud whine slipping from your parted lips as you squeeze and contract around Kyle’s cock.

Kyle can’t last not even a second longer the moment you start to come around him. His eyes fall shut, his back arches and he digs his fingers into the bed, toes curling and legs shaking as he fucks his come inside of you, drool slipping down his parted mouth.

“Good job.” Simon’s voice remarks next to you, satisfied and almost… proud, while you’re both too lost in the high of pleasure to even recognize his existence in the room or that you’re… alive, really.

[meazalykov]

the target

lynn wilms x reader

summary: lynn gets revenge for you

warnings: angst?, injury, swearing

it’s game day. 

the quarterfinals of the champions league. real madrid. the first leg. it’s the kind of match you’ve dreamed about since you were a kid. well, as a kid you thought you would be playing for your childhood club back in england, but that is besides the point.

you’re starting in midfield with wolfsburg, and lynn will be out there too, holding down the right-back position. the thought of sharing the pitch with her always brings a certain calmness, even when the stakes are this high.

the walkout onto the field is exciting. the screams of the fans, the wolfsburg green against the madrid white—you’re excited. 

you catch lynn’s eye during lineup panel, and she sends you a small smile. it’s grounding.

as soon as the whistle blows, madrid makes their intentions clear. they press hard, quick to close down any space, and their midfielders seem to be everywhere at once. 

your first few touches are rushed, pressured by their relentless energy. 

you catch glimpses of lynn darting up the right flank, always ready to support the attack or track back defensively. 

the first twenty minutes fly by, a blur of challenges, quick passes, and constant movement. 

madrid isn’t giving an inch, and neither are you.

lynn spots athenea darting down the wing, her control precise as she angles to cut inside. athenea believes that she is clean, but lynn stops her. she steps in with flawless timing, extending her leg to cleanly take the ball away just as athenea tries to make her next move. 

the crowd erupts in appreciation as lynn doesn’t just win possession... she transitions it forward instantly. the blonde head lifts, scanning the field before threading a perfectly weighted pass up to jule, who’s already running to an open space.

jule collects the ball smoothly, her pace causing madrid’s defenders to scramble. she draws two players toward her.

you, ever the playmaker, timed your next move perfectly, running on the right as the ball slipped into your path. it’s quick and seamless, giving you the chance to turn toward the goal with space ahead of you.

you take your first touch, the ball right at your feet as you eye the madrid backline. there’s no easy route through, but that’s never stopped you before. 

antonia lunges in, and with a flick to your right followed by a sharp cut to your left, you leave her behind, her balance thrown off entirely. 

adrenaline courses through you as you move toward the next challenge.

before you can make your next move, olga comes crashing in, her body slamming into yours with a brutal force that has nothing to do with getting the ball.

the woman’s left shoulder hits your side hard, knocking the air from your lungs as your momentum is thrown off. 

your feet lose contact with the ground, and just as you’re falling forward, oihane adds insult to injury with a shove to your back, propelling you further into the grass. the crowd’s collective gasp rings out as your body hits the ground hard, your palms scraping against the rough surface of grass.

the whistle cuts through the chaos, sharp and clear. the referee’s arm is up, signaling the foul, but that doesn’t immediately soothe the tension that erupts around you. 

you hear svenja’s voice almost immediately, protesting in both german and english, firm and unwavering as she marches toward the ref. your mentor’s protective instincts kicking in. she’s quick to defend you. 

you push yourself up from the ground, brushing bits of grass from your raw hands and knees as you catch your breath. your body aches from the collision, but you’re fine—nothing you can’t handle. 

looking up, you see lynn already moving toward olga, her expression a mixture of frustration and determination. the dutch's movements are purposeful, her jaw clenched, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

before she can close the distance, you step into her path, reaching out to place a gentle but firm hand on her arm. 

“hey, its fine,” you say softly, meeting her eyes. the tension in her posture eases just slightly as you shake your head, your silent way of telling her to let it go. it’s not worth it. she hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering between you and olga, but you nudge her back gently, guiding her away with you. 

lynn exhales deeply, and the two of you retreat together, leaving svenja to handle the situation as the referee moves in.

“are you fine?” she mumbles. 

“yes.” you mumble back. 

the game ticks into the 40th minute, ten minutes after the crash between olga, oihane, and you. you find yourself in a pocket of space near the edge of the box, the ball at your feet. your instincts kick in as you glance up, scanning the field. 

alex makes her run, her timing perfect as she slips between two defenders. without hesitation, you whip in a cross—a perfect arc curling toward the center of the goal. alex rises above the crowd, her header powerful and precise, sending the ball soaring past misa and into the back of the net.

the stadium erupts in cheers, a sea of green celebrating as alex takes off toward the corner flag, pumping her fist in the air. your excitement overtakes you as you sprint toward her, jumping onto her back as the rest of the team rushes in to join the celebration. 

1-0. it’s a massive moment. 

however, that solidified madrid’s stance on you being a threat. 

as the game resumes, it’s clear that madrid has shifted their focus entirely onto you. every time you touch the ball, their players close in aggressively. you can feel their frustration; they can’t stop you, so they’ve resorted to trying to break you. 

your reputation precedes you. you’re known for your pinpoint assists and thunderous goals from a distance outside of the box. 

you’re their biggest threat, and they know it.

the final five minutes of the first half feel like they stretch into eternity. madrid’s pressure is relentless, their challenges growing rougher with each passing moment. you’re dribbling upfield, looking for an opening to pass to svenja, when teresa closes in. 

before you can react, her cleat comes down hard on your foot, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg. you cringe, instinctively bending down to rub your foot as you try to shake off the pain. 

the referee doesn’t blow the whistle, and the game continues around you as if nothing happened.

svenja sees it all. she immediately stops play, her voice sharp as she confronts the referee. frustration is etched across her face, her gestures animated as she demands to know why no foul was called. 

you straighten up, still wincing as you test your foot, and glance toward the bench where your coach looks equally concerned.

the lack of calls has the entire wolfsburg team irritable. madrid’s strategy is clear—they’re targeting you, and the referee’s inaction only fuels their boldness. even the fans are voicing their anger, their boos ringing out as the replay of the stomp flashes across the stadium’s screens. lynn is pacing on the right flank, visibly holding herself back. her hands are clenched into fists, her jaw tight as she tries to restrain herself. 

you catch her eye briefly, and the frustration in her gaze is almost palpable. she’s respecting your choice, not wanting to escalate things, but it’s killing her to see you take hit after hit.

as the whistle finally signals halftime, you walk off the field with your teammates, your foot still throbbing. the coach pulls you aside in the tunnel, his tone serious. 

“y/n, you’ve got to avoid getting injured. we need you for the second leg, not just tonight.”

before you can respond, alex speaks up, her voice filled with annoyance. 

“they’re targeting her because they can’t stop her. it’s obvious! the ref’s letting them get away with it.” she’s practically seething in german, her protective nature mirroring the team’s collective frustration.

he second half starts with wolfsburg adjusting to the madness of the first. the coach’s strategy is clear: keep the ball moving quickly and limit your full possession to specific plays. 

the focus shifts to jule, who takes on more of the ball-handling responsibilities in the midfield since the madrid players are slightly less aggressive with her, and everyone else who isn’t you. 

your coach is making a tactical move meant to shield you from the worst of madrid’s aggressive targeting, but it leaves you lingering in pockets of space, watching and waiting for an opening. this is what you hate, you love a challenger. you need to have contact, but being injured would ruin all of that.

the clock ticks into the 49th minute when svenja, ever-reliable, sends a sharp pass your way. the ball zips across the field, and you’re quick to collect it, already scanning for options. you can feel the madrid players closing in, but you’re hoping, just hoping, they won’t try anything this time.

of course, they do.

as you push up the pitch, caroline suddenly grabs a fistful of your jersey, tugging hard enough to pull you off balance. the fabric stretches uncomfortably against your chest, and your frustration bubbles to the surface at the same time. 

you reach behind you, your fingers finding hers, and pry her grip loose. it’s not a hard motion, but it’s deliberate. the ball rolls slightly ahead of you as you let it go, passing it cleanly to svedinis before turning back to face caroline.

you don’t hide your irritation as you step toward her, your voice steady but edged with anger. 

“is there a problem?” the question hangs in the air, sharp enough to cut through the noise of the game. caroline’s hands shoot up defensively, palms out, as if to say she doesn’t want any trouble. 

the scottish woman’s expression is neutral, almost dismissive, but she doesn’t say a word.

you back away slowly, your eyes still locked on hers for a moment longer before you turn. alex is there, her reassuring presence a balm against the frustration threatening to consume you. she pats your back firmly, her touch grounding you as she says something you can’t quite hear over the loudness of the german crowd ready to defend you. 

the look in alex’s eyes is encouraging, a silent acknowledgment that you’ve done well to stand your ground.

across the pitch, lynn watches the entire interaction, her posture is tense, her hands clenching briefly before she forces them to relax. 

you’re doing everything right, standing up for yourself with composure, but it’s clear to her how much it’s wearing on you. as much as she respects your wish for her to stay out of it, the sight of you being targeted again and again makes it almost unbearable for her to stay put. 

still, she forces herself to remain where she is, her focus trained on the game, even though her heart aches for you.

the next play will change lynn’s mindset..

..it all happens too fast.

the ball is thrown in from minge and you get the ball. you run just outside the box, lining up the perfect shot. 

suddenly, a sharp, searing pain explodes in your ankle. antonia’s boot, studs up, slams directly into you with brutal force. she misses the ball entirely, and the impact sends you sprawling to the ground. 

the ball goes away from the goal, forgotten as your scream pierces through the stadium noise.

you clutch your ankle instinctively, the pain so intense it feels like your entire leg is on fire. the blood pools quickly, soaking into your green socks, the vibrant red stark against the fabric. the agony grips you, but so does the shock. 

your breath comes in short, ragged bursts as your heart races, pounding so hard you can feel it in your chest. you want to cry, to let the pain out somehow, but the tears won’t come. something inside of you did not want to give madrid players and fans the satisfaction of seeing your tears. 

instead, you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the shaking in your hands as they press tightly against your throbbing ankle.

“y/n love, it’s okay, we’re here,” jule’s voice breaks through the haze, soft but urgent. she’s kneeling next to you, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. svedinis is beside her, her eyes filled with concern as she crouches down, holding your other hand that is not on your ankle. 

your bestfriend’s words are comforting, grounding, even as the medics rush onto the pitch, their bags clutched tightly as they prepare to assess the damage. 

the pain doesn’t lessen, but their closeness makes the swollen and bleeding ankle more bearable.

while you’re surrounded by support and calmness by the outside of the box, the rest of the pitch is erupting into chaos towards the goalpost.

lynn saw you on the ground, the blood, the pain etched across your face, and something inside her snaps. the calm restraint from earlier is gone. she storms toward antonia with a ferocity that makes her teammates hesitate to step in. 

“are you stupid?!” lynn yells, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air. her words ring out clearly, laced with anger and disbelief. antonia tries to wave it off, muttering, 

“i didn’t do anything,” but lynn isn’t having it.

“shut up!” she yells again, pointing directly at antonia.

the madrid players begin to swarm, misa stepping in to try to break things apart. olga joins the fray, her posture defensive as she moves toward lynn, but wolfsburg’s players aren’t letting lynn getting jumped by the spanish team. 

svenja, ever the captain, runs forward. marina and lineth flank her while alex positions herself near lynn, ready to intervene if things go too far. 

lynn is beyond reason, her finger still jabbing in antonia’s direction as she yells, 

“seriously though, what’s wrong with you guys? stop being so stupid!”

the medics finally reach you, but even their presence doesn’t fully distract you from the chaos unraveling around you. lynn keeps going, before minge wraps her arms around lynn, trying to pull her back. 

“let it go,” minge pleads.

you’re lying there, your hands trembling as the medics begin their work, but your eyes flicker toward lynn. even through the chaos, you can feel her anger burning for you.

the ref finally raises the red card, pointing directly at antonia, who looks stunned for a moment before reluctantly walking off the pitch. it’s the right call.. her studs-up tackle was reckless and dangerous. 

your teammates exchange frustrated glances, and you can see it in their faces: this never should have gotten to this point. if the referee had been stricter earlier, if fouls had been called, warnings given, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

you’re helped off the pitch, each step sending jolts of pain up your leg, and ariana comes on as your replacement. you watch her jog into position, her face set with determination, but your focus quickly shifts to your ankle. 

minutes later seated in the medic room, you can’t help but cringe when you finally look down. your sock, once a pristine green, is stained with blood, and your ankle is swollen, an angry blue hue spreading up your skin. 

it looks worse than it feels, though the pain is still there.

the team’s doctor, a kind woman you’ve rarely interacted with since you’re not one to often get injured, works quickly and efficiently. the touch is gentle, but you still wince as she cleans the wound and begins wrapping your ankle in layers of bandages. 

“you might be out for a couple of weeks,” she says softly, her tone sympathetic but professional. 

“we’ll need to do a deeper analysis tomorrow after the swelling goes down.”

you nod, accepting her words with a mix of disappointment and resignation. injuries are part of the sport but it doesn’t make it any easier to process. 

you force yourself to take a deep breath, reminding yourself that your recovery is now the priority.

after she finishes wrapping your ankle, the doctor hands you a pair of crutches. using them feels awkward at first, but you manage as you make your way back toward the field. 

the game is still 1-0, thanks to you and alex. you find a seat on the bench next to lineth, who is now also off the pitch. she gives you a sympathetic smile, her hand briefly resting on your shoulder. 

“you okay?” she asks, her voice low enough not to draw attention.

“i’ll survive,” you reply, though your gaze drifts back to the game. 

you sit on the bench trying to distract yourself from the dull ache in your ankle. your eyes naturally find lynn on the pitch, and for the first time in a long while, you’re watching her play from the sidelines instead of alongside her. 

it’s strange, this perspective, but it gives you a chance to really notice her playing.

the way she moves is effortless—calculated yet fluid, her body a perfect balance of power and precision. lynn’s posture is strong despite the obvious frustration lingering from what happened to you. the dutch’s lips are pressed into a thin line, her usual calm replaced by a quiet intensity.

you can’t help but think about how hot she looks out there. the wanted distraction is welcome, pulling your attention away from the throbbing in your ankle. she’s a force to be reckoned with, and even though you already know that, seeing her from this angle makes you appreciate it even more.

in the 86th minute, lynn takes the ball up the right. you can see her eyes scan the field as she gauges her options. 

lynn takes a perfect shot with the ball and at first, it looks like she’s targeting ariana, hoping for a header to mirror alex’s earlier goal. 

however, the ball keeps going, and going. misa stretches out her fingers, desperate to make the save, but it’s too late—the ball flies just out of reach and into the back of the net.

the crowd erupts in cheers, the noise shaking the entire stadium. your heart leaps with excitement, and before you realize it, you’re on your feet, clapping and cheering as loudly as the rest of the bench. 

you can’t help yourself—you’re so proud of her. 

through the chaos, lynn’s eyes immediately find yours. it’s as if she’s tuning out everything else, seeking your validation first, as always. when she spots you, her expression softens for a moment, and she raises her hands, forming a heart in your direction.

your chest tightens at the sweet gesture, your cheeks heating up as you smile at her. lynn’s celebrations are never over the top, her focus always on the team rather than personal glory, but this small moment of acknowledgment is everything to you. 

beside you, lineth snorts, leaning closer to mutter, “you two need to get a room.”

“shut up,” you shoot back, grinning despite yourself. lineth just laughs, shaking her head as she joins in the applause.

as the game winds down, you notice something curious: madrid’s aggression has noticeably cooled. they’re still pressing and defending, but the dirty fouls and unnecessary physicality have all but disappeared. 

it hits you like a sudden realization. they weren’t playing rough because of wolfsburg—they were playing rough because of you. 

i mean, you did play for barcelona before wolfsburg. however, that was four years ago. those heated el clasico matches were in your past. you shake your head, ignoring all of those possibilities.

the final whistle blows, and all of the wolfsburg players gather on the field, exchanging hugs and high-fives after the 2-0 victory. you remain seated on the bench, a quiet observer as the celebration unfolds. 

the doctor’s words echo in your mind, reminding you to avoid walking on your ankle too much until your ankle can be properly assessed and placed in a boot tomorrow. the dull throb in your ankle keeps you grounded, but watching your team revel in their success brings a sense of satisfaction despite the earlier chaos.

lynn is still on the pitch, talking with svedinis near the sideline. though she’s engaged in conversation, you can tell her attention keeps flickering back to you. she’s rushing—her words quick, her movements slightly impatient. svedinis starts to notice and giggles, pushing lynn towards you as she goes to talk to alex. 

the dutch jogs over to you, her green kit streaked with dirt and sweat. 

she doesn’t hesitate, practically throwing herself onto you, careful to avoid your injured ankle. the tattooed arms wrap around you tightly, her weight a comforting presence as you let out a laugh. 

“easy there, mvp,” you tease, your voice light for the first time since the injury.

lynn leans back slightly, a grin tugging at her lips. 

“it’s just good to see you not looking so pissed off after everything that happened.”

you chuckle, tilting your head at her. 

“yeah, but i wish i could say the same about you.”

she narrows her eyes playfully, a mock glare forming. 

“can you blame me? watching you get beat up out there and not being able to do anything about it? i was ready to beat someone up myself.”

you nod, your tone softening. “true. but, for the record…” you pause, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. 

“i thought it was kind of hot, seeing you all protective and storming the pitch.”

lynn groans, rolling her eyes dramatically, though the faint blush creeping up her cheeks gives her away. 

“you’re insane, do you know that?” she mutters, but there’s no heat in her words.

you laugh again, reaching out to pull her into a proper hug. lynn’s body relaxes against yours, the stadium around you begins to empty, everyone into the cool night air as the crowd disperses. 

it’s just the two of you now, in the quiet glow of the emptying arena. 

“thanks for having my back out there,” you whisper, your voice sincere. 

lynn presses a kiss to the top of your head, her voice equally soft. 

“always.”

masterlist

[lucabyte]

How do you get your siffrins to look adult? I keep accidentally giving them a baby face but I WANT THEM TO LOOK GROWN AND EXHAUSTED LIKE HE DESERVES

okay so i legit think i fail at making siffrin look adequately adult like half the time but here's a general breakdown of my like. thought process when im actually um. thinking .

So first of all heres my general tips for proportioning a face, and how i attempt to keep the roundness of sif's in-game proportions while also like... drawing them more realistically? i had to practically reinvent a Human Style for drawing isat fanart since im a furry artist so a lot of this is fresh in my mind, luckily(?) for you i suppose.

This newness also means you can like, watch me fight and struggle against how the hell to do this in my earlier fanart. so feel free to try and see what changed as i pieced it together.

Another note is body proportion. You note giving him a baby face specifically, but some of it MIGHT be that you're drawing the head too big for your style? Try and figure out how many "heads tall" your figures are and tweak the numbers until you find what looks "adult"

Here I cracked open one of the comics I used CSP Model refrences for (albeit feat Loop, who i envision to be the exact same height as siffrin. i am NOT a tall loop truther i think its funnier when that bitch is five foot NOTHING!!!!!)

drawing sif with adult proportions can be deceptively difficult though on account of their Being A Tiny Motherfucker. Mostly here though, I find that the best way to do this is to drop like 1/3rd of the length of an average drawing figure's legs. Short people tend to have short legs. I know this on account of a lot of my ocs being 5'3" and below (... for... reasons...... unrelated to my own... height.... 100%.... ) so once again I think a lot of this can come down to trying to fiddle with numbers and noting down what works.

OKAY NOW ONTO SOME MORE SIFFRIN-SPECIFIC DRAWING TIPS. like these are what i find myself doing to make them look older if i accidentally baby face them myself

The above kind of chibi-er doodle style im still not sure has Siffrin looking adult enough for my liking (someone who considers them minimum 28) but considering they're presumably genuinely a deceptively baby faced guy at least by game's start (even if they should probably look. unhealthy.) it's like... forgivable.

the bald spot is basically fucking cheating in terms of "making them look older" lbr but i am so fucking insistent on it and i punch the air in celebration every time i see anyone else do it. winner is ME!!!!

Anyway. the body hair thing is funny considering we basically have Word Of God that siffrin is not the kind of person who ever likes being naked/even having their feet out in a casual setting. but like. hi its me the weird fucked up miserable nudity guy. of course im drawing every pockmark and texture on their body.

Another note here is, on their naked form, I avoid overly smooth lines for outlines of the limbs and torso. This avoids making them look "sexy twink thin" (not my bag at all) and instead gives the impression of loose skin from fluctuating weight, uneven fat distribution, skin becoming baggier with age. I also let joints jut out and look sharp wherever I can. This is because im an asexual pervert who likes the human form the mostest when i can see 'imperfections' This adds to the haggard nature of it all, by being reasonably honest about what the kind of persistent decade-long neglect of self care and implied malnutrition would do to a guy

Last note: eyes. i find i end up drawing a vague glassy black smear with a hint of white for the sclera for siffrin like. a Lot. Eyebags to show weariness is not my preferred method as I find it, to be rude, a bit of an overused shorthand. Plus, while sif in game does get eyebags, they're usually more on pushed expressions where they're forcing their face. So I put more emphasis on drawing the folds of the upper lid (which the game does not do) to make them look weary.

I dont think i can elaborate on my opinions on How To Draw Eyes without it becoming a way the fuck too long essay because "drawing emotions good" is like. my number 1 goal in every drawing so even if everything else is scuffed to hell I HAVE TOOO get the eyes right because theyre the most emotive part of the face. if i cant capture an emotion correctly the drawing isnt getting fucking finished is the thing, so....

Luckily for me, drawing over eyes and continously tweaking them by painting over and over and over and redoing them can have the side effect of making them look over-detailed and thus worn/tired/agonised. yes this is why i draw loop's face so scrunched all the time. All I can say for this though is to do a lot of studies of both real life faces & the most emotive cartoon faces you personally have experienced. So like. steven universe is great for this because rebecca sugar is so scary at drawing eyes. theyre so fucking scary at it. or sometimes i just go stare at rebecca's old comics because jesus christ. anyway.

??? but yeah hope this helps. its something i feel like i have a genuine hard time with too, especially since im so intent on keeping their face round & my artstyle is genuinely very cutesy even when i am being weird soo ...?

tl;dr:

draw the eyes smaller, give them a chin, the canon nose helps a lot & dont forget the bald spot. everyone draw the bald spot. for me.

[serpentface]

Hello, I love your work and have been rotating the Blightseed setting in my head for the past couple weeks. I'd just like to ask, is there a significant difference between qilik weaponry and human weaponry? I'm sure the difference in size is a given, and I remember in a previous post it was mentioned that a good portion of the cookware used by qilik cultures are often human-made and traded from the outside. To be more specific, are there limiting factors in qilik physiology that make the use of certain types of weapons less practical/frequent? To be honest, I'm just thinking about raptors with swords. Thank you for your time

Yeah it's pretty different. Most qilik weaponry and traditional combat systems tend to focus on attachments of bladed implements to the feet, rather than objects wielded with the hands.

The legs of a qilik are MUCH more viable to use as a weapon-carrying limb than those of a human, largely due to their much greater flexibility and the ability of a qilik to jump significantly higher (a healthy individual could easily leap up and kick a human's face from a standing start). You will be hard pressed to find a qilik society that does not utilize foot spurs as weapons. These can vary in form and placement, but are usually blades added directly to the front or back of the foot. Augmentations to add a blade to the sickle claw can be viable when very lightweight, but given that it attaches to a toe (a small and relatively weak limb) it requires significant reinforcement to the rest of the foot to not be a liability (a toe can be broken fairly easily).

(It should be emphasized that everything that follows is secondary to use of foot mounted blades or used in more specified circumstances in the vast majority of groups.)

Forms of short handheld bladed weapons Are viable, though they have major tradeoffs with the more common foot mounted weapons. Swords can be much longer than most spurs (helps keep your body at a safer distance from the foe), but their stabs are CONSIDERABLY weaker in a qilik's hands. Swords have the advantage of making cutting and slicing motions (certain vertical up-down wrist + arm motions are relatively devastating via qilik limbs), which spurs are less effective at. Most qilik swords are built exclusively for chopping motions (sometimes even having rounded/squared tips) and are often used as a supplementary weapon + counter for bladed feet. Many people disavow the use of swords it altogether, considering holding shields to be a better use of the hands, if the hands are involved in combat at all.

Spears are actually more commonly used than swords. Qilik are not physiologically capable of throwing spears with any meaningful force, so they tend more towards being held in a fixed position and driven into the enemy at full charge/leap or while mounted. Most mounted combat utilizes spears.

Qilik do not have the physical size/strength to effectively draw most human sized bows by hand, and have proportionally weaker draw strength with the arms in general. Qilik handbows made for mobile archery have comparatively shorter ranges. Longbows built specifically to be aimed with the hand and drawn with the Foot have a much longer range, comparable to most human bows. This is usually done in stationary positions, though it can be performed while mounted (this is slightly less efficacious than human mounted archery- it cannot be accomplished as rapidly (reloads take three limbs) and changing positions from one side of the mount to the other takes more effort).

Biting is a fairly viable weapon. Qilik bite force is not particularly exceptional, but the head can be used for quicker/substantially more effective bite strikes than anything a human is capable of. This has obvious draw offs (you generally want to avoid putting your head in range of a weapon) and is rarely used as a primary strategy, but qilik cultures that make helmets generally leave most of the mouth exposed to allow full range of jaw motion. This is usually just as a backup or a tactic to be used opportunistically, but some groups utilize partly bladed mouthguards to make bites more effective (often with a hooked 'beak' extension.

Here's a sketch example of a full weapon + armor setup

This is a czekl hen wearing what can be considered a full set of weapons and armor.

The blades are short spurs, one strong + thick spur fixed to the ankle with a metal ring, one lighter spur tied to the toe (her claw has been filed down for this purpose). She carries no weapons or shield in her hands, and they will be held close to the body during active combat. In battle, she will attempt to incapacitate an enemy with bladed kicks to the abdomen and neck, and will be reliant on lightweight agility to avoid the same fate.

The armor is simple spider silk, fitted closely to the body around the torso and neck with (partly cosmetic) drapes hanging loosely over the arms. It's not particularly pretty, but this is one of the best available armors pragmatic for this combat style (and spider silk is expensive enough as is, you don't want to waste prettily dyed/decorated textile on non-ceremonial armor). Spider silk is one of the strongest fabrics available for its lightness. It cannot withstand a direct puncture wound, but is Extremely resilient against glancing blows and makes penetration with a blade more difficult than any comparatively lightweight fabrics. The sections along the torso are padded and offer more protection than leather.

The helmet is leather and partly decorated with the motif of the wind tzu, the first ancestor. The wind tzu's wings are made from the hen's own plumes (probably from her first molt into adult plumage), its tail has actual tzu hair. Her actual plumes are cut down to the base, which is a standard element of Czekl hen gender presentation.

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty five : thunder and storm clouds

*written*

word count : 1.6k

warnings : smut (MDNI). The mood changes up quite a bit. Sorry this took awhile to get through but I finished finally. We’re at the halfway point now, guys! not proofread.

He’s thunder and storm clouds, making himself comfortable in your apartment. You can’t say the same because you find yourself up against the wall with his hand on your throat, anger dripping from his eyes. 

You grimace a little, the sensitivity of old love bites burning at healing skin and a smirk twitches at the corner of his lips as he regards you and the hickies he left behind, “Deja vu, huh?” 

You scowl and you feel so pathetically inadequate when all it takes to dissolve the severity of it is the kiss he gives you. He slots his mouth over yours, a soft contrast to the hand squeezing at your throat, and when he adds tongue you’re confused as what exactly has turned your vision into stars. 

You moan into his mouth, and he exhales a sharp breath standing closer to hear it again. It sounds so much better to him when your moans are just for him to hear. Or if the men that want you are there to see who’s making you moan so much. 

He nips at your lips, almost as if he can see them swell a little to pull back from your lips, and when he slots his knee in between your legs there’s no push back. Brushing the slightest bit at the apex, he grins manically, his hair curling over his eyes. 

“You’re so messy.” 

“Fuc-” 

“Shut up, don’t talk,” He hisses, his hand slapping over your mouth, “I don’t want to hear a word from you.” 

Despite the makeshift muffler of your lips, you’re too curious not to ask, “Why?” 

He’s unimpressed, and it shows in his body language. He pauses, the dark expression taking new terror on his kissed stupid features and his hands painting pictures across your collarbone and chest, “Because the last time you did, you pissed me off.” 

You swallow and he enjoys it, the realisation in your eyes, his fingers swiping letters you can’t make sense of, every word he writes unintelligible, “I’m not going to let you just forget it, Y/N. You’re not a Princess here, I’m afraid.” 

At the last word, his hands slide down to the thick of your waist, bunching it in his grip before he spins you both around so that his back is flat against the wall and you’re leaning over him. 

You stare at him, questions running amok in your head. 

With a smack of his lips, his fingers claw in your hair, deep rooted pleasure slow as he grips at your hair, “You thinking of him, right now?” 

You shake your head. With his thumb, he forces his way in between your swollen full lips until he finds the base of your tongue, the suction of it all tempting him to have his way with you. 

“Think of him if you want, baby,” He shrugs, pulling his pants down and prying himself free, “It’s your last chance to anyways.” 

With an almost gentle brush of your lips with the pad of his thumb, you’re away with the fairies replaying the moment over and over again in your head. 

“Open,” He commands softly to which you obey him with only a moment's hesitation, and he slowly watches as his cock is swallowed by your throat. His head tips back of the feeling of your mouth, your tongue and your lips working together, sucking and sucking. 

He doesn’t even realise he’s thrusting into your mouth until you start to gag around him, tears welling in your eyes. He’s about to allow you an intake of breath, only to be falter at the feeling of you swallowing, he shakes and his grip tightens within the strands of your hair. 

“Mmm,” He growls appreciatively, clenching his palm into a fist and eyes flickering as he struggles to find a place to put his hands, letting a whine pass his lips as you suck harder, attempting to draw out the subby whines you want to hear. 

“W-wait,” His breath hitches at your pace, “I’m seriously going to come down your throat if you’re not careful.” 

But when you refuse to budge, he can’t say he finds it anything to complain about. But he has to. 

He moans again, “Don’t you want me to fuck you? If you keep going like this, I won’t be able to.” 

You pull away from his cock with a pop and it takes every bone in his body not to shove himself down your throat again. You race upwards, taking his lips for yours. Letting him taste himself on your lips. Loving the way he loses it because of you, stealing his moment of composure in order to see him like this. 

He’s a shadow of the dom he was portraying before, weak at the hands of you. And with his guard down, he doesn’t think twice before his hand cups your face. 

He kisses at his own pace, the sounds between you both heavy as you lead him into the bedroom. He sits on the bed, impatient as you straddle him and longing as you plant wet kisses on his neck. He finds himself tipping back as you climb higher up his torso, your hips at his chest, the feeling of him beneath you making your clit throb. 

You want him so fucking badly. 

“Fours?” You murmur, voice barely a whisper. You’ve got ideas and you so desperately want to use them during his favourite position to drive him nuts. 

His eyes are lost, vision blurry as he shakes his head, “No.” 

No? 

He flips you over, leg hitching over his hips as he drags himself forward. Letting you feel just how hard he is. How much he wants you. Right where you want him. 

“Oh-” 

He steals your moans with another hurried kiss, hands moving busy as he undresses himself. Shirt first. Then pants. His erection hitting his stomach. He’s been getting thicker, his body gradually getting stronger and you can’t say you don’t appreciate it. Normally, however, he’d take notice and make a comment that irritated you well into the next day. 

But he doesn’t give you any sort of normalcy. 

Instead, he cups your face with both hands, gentle as he kisses you again. Softly this time. Sweeter. He’s slow about it, taking his time. It feels addictive. How good it is. You return his kiss with his mirror image. Soft. Sweet. Addicting. 

You don’t know how long you kiss for. 

You just know that when he stops, you’re removing your own clothes slowly, watching as his eyes gaze across your body appreciatively. Normally, you’d give him your own comment, but for some reason you don’t. 

You just watch his admiration. 

Your breasts. Your skin. Everything feels perfect to him. He leans forward as you go to unbuckle your jeans, the swell of your breasts in his mouth so delicious your hands drop from their work to enjoy the moment for a second. 

He kisses down your stomach and then returns to your mouth, hoping you’d taste how good you taste. Your hands naturally jerk back to the zip of your jeans and you smile into the kiss as you knock hands with him as he pulls expertly at the buttons of your jeans. The satisfying click of freedom, all the incentive to peel your jeans and underwear off your legs. 

You can almost hear him without even hearing him say it. 

Jeans, really? 

And you would quip back, because that’s how your relationship was. But he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he kisses your cheek gently, his palm finding the meat of your thigh as he angles your leg around his torso. He can feel how wet you are, and with a quick dip of his fingers into your heat, he knows how desperate you are too. 

His digits dragging deliciously across your walls, you whimper at the loss of his fingers. He hushes you, “I’m almost there, baby.” 

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit, watching the way your pussy clenches at the sensation, all before he sinks into you letting out a groan of his own as he feels you squeeze him within your walls. 

“Oh f-fuck,” You mewl, nails breaking through his skin and he isn’t even moving yet. 

He kisses you again and it’s all so hazy. You two have kissed a couple times now, but it’s still rather new to kiss like this during sex. It makes your head turn with how emotional it feels when paired with the slow thrust of his hips. 

You clench tighter on his dick, enjoying the way he loses it and thrusts hurriedly into you. You wish there was an archive in your brain that let you play out his sounds at every period of the day. 

But you’ll just have to fuck him like this again and again. 

As he loses it on top of you, his head tilting and eyes squinting as he lets himself go. The muscles in body tensed all the way to the tips of his fingers. He almost cries at the feeling of your soft kisses, a contrast to the severe intensity of the pleasure he feels because of your pussy. 

He tips his head back feeling your kisses on his throat. His chin. He turns his head and you still kiss at the apples of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw. His collarbone. His chest. 

He comes, you don’t. But you don’t care. His come spilling from your pussy.  You don’t care, because the guy in front of you is a vision you can’t bring yourself to be mad at. He’s red in the face, sweat dripping from his forehead, heaving chest. 

You give him a minute, a smile growing on your face. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing softly against the skin and you feel your whole body flutter. 

All before he murmurs something unintelligible and your whole body locks, frozen still. You can’t even pretend anymore. Not after that. 

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter twenty five: thunder and storm clouds

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[hoshigray]

plz, can u write a oneshot about mean!toji x reader like hate sex 😭😭 toji bleeding and smirking in ep 4 makes me feel some feelings 😭😭 and if u can add some slap in the face- sorry for my bad english :(( hope u can understand

ik those feelings you're feeling, noonie, heheheee (¬‿¬) and dw, honey, your English is perfect ♡

cw: mean! Toji x fem! reader - hate sex, obvi - oral (m! receiving) - impact play; spanking - gun play (loaded) - bondage (chains) - hair pulling - dirty talk/degradation - doggy style position - unprotected sex - biting - mentions of blood and drool - it's gonna get real nasty (depiction-wise; blowjobs) so beware - pet names (doll, dollface, sweetheart) - angsty/violent ending. wc: 1.4k

"Go on." You look up to him, nothing more than his salacious grin and cold emerald eyes sending chills down your spine. Dry blood stains his tight black shirt and baggy pants. Metal chains restraining your hands are pulled to make you shift between his legs.

"...Tch, you got some nerve—"

"Watch that tone with me, sweetheart," your blood shifts to icy cold at the gun in his hand propped to your throat. "Would be a shame if I gotta put a bullet through you before the fun starts. So? Should I kill ya now, or are ya gonna be a good slut fr' me?"

Watery eyes twinkle along with the tremble rocking the uncomfortable bob in your throat, making breathing difficult. Your eyes then scroll down to the tent of his pants, his free hand bringing the material down to his thighs for his cock to spring out. You gulp trembling lips and hesitantly place your lips on the glans, a hiss exiting his scarred lips when you experimentally flick your tongue.

"Hmmm, don't act shy on me now," the gun to your throat drifts to your head. Fear prompts your heart to beat irregularly. "C'mon, Y/n. I know that pretty lil' mouth of yours is just beggin' to have me."

You give him a glare. It's exchanged with a chuckle, and the handgun's cold muzzle is now pressed to your forehead. "Fuck you, you fucking bru—"

BLAM!!

It was for a few seconds, but the blast was too close. Too frightened from the ringing in your ears that your body remains immobile, your eyes wide to the point of a tear falling. Too scared to move a single limb when Toji draws the gun back to your forehead.

"Actin' real smart, forgot who y're dealin' with." Toji sucks his teeth before his free hand pulls you by the chin back to his exposed dick. "Try that again."

Left with no choice, you open your mouth and insert the tip of his cock, your jaw loosening to accommodate the familiar girth of his length protruding from your oral cavity to the walls of your throat. Toji hisses at the swirl of your tongue on the underside of his dick, his free hand now on the top of your head with tufts of your hair in his fingers. "...Yeah, just like that, use that whorish mouth of yours."

If you had it in you, you'd bite his dick off right then; however, with a gun to your head and chains making escaping impossible, you can already calculate your doom if you were to do that. So, you pitifully suck on him as traces of his cum coat your tongue. The grasp on your hair gets tighter, and he roughly pushes your head to bob up and down from the base of his erection.

It's so disgusting how he uses you like this — like his toy, so used and abused...And what's worse, the throbbing sensation between your legs begins to flourish. Fuck you, Toji Fushiguro...

"—Ahhh, shit, shit," his groans of pleasure fill your ears; they feel so dirty to hear. His hips are unable to refrain from bucking into your mouth. And before you know it, Toji drives your face to his base, the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and he releases his load into you. More tears fall from your face, whimpers muffled by the pulsing limb between your plump lips, forced to drink what he gives you until he withdraws from you. Drool and come paint his shaft, your mouth, and chin — a mess you're compelled to make.

But it doesn't stop there. Of course, it doesn't.

Because remember: you are his toy. And a greedy man like Toji wants to wear you out by any means necessary, whether you like it or not. Especially now with your face smooshed down to the cold floor, your hands to your back still restrained by the chains, and your bare ass for him to witness smack against his pelvis as he fucks you raw.

With a ruthless pace, Toji bullies and churns your insides with his girth in your cunt, his length pistoning to and fro from your leaky entrance. Your screams are erupted by the harsh thrusts, sounds of your ass smacking onto him corrupt your eardrums. He keeps you still on the ground with his strong hands on your shoulders, leaving any opposition worthless and unable to fight off his merciless tempo.

The fucker pants and groans down to your ear, it's so awful to hear. More so that it makes your slit clamp onto him tighter. How shameful. And he knows so too — the sinister chuckle is evidence as much. "Mmff—Heh, gettin' so tight fr' me, doll."

You don't reply, why should you. Too wrapped up in the pleasurable commotion between your legs to care for giving him a reply. That is until—b

SMACK!!

A sharp slap to your ass comes down to your ass without notice, erupting a scream from your fatigued throat.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, fuckin' broad." Your hair is yanked again, your head off the ground with tears and drool smooshed all over your pretty face. "Listen here, who—Mmmm!! Fuck...Who does this slutty pussy belong to?"

You'd rather die than say what he wants to hear you say. "Get off me, you—Ahhhhhh!"

Another smack to your ass, you chew on your bottom lip to the point of blood. "Cut the shit, Y/n..." He ponders before another grin lifts his scar and slaps your ass again. A choked sob aligns with your chasm gripping his cock again, and a satisfied moan comes from Toji. "Oh, now I know how to teach you a lesson."

Wait, no. No, no—

SMACK!!

"Ahaaann!! Ahhhh!! Toji, stop—" He doesn't listen, giving your shoulder a bite, leaving you breathless.

SMACK!! SMACK!!

"—OKAY, OKAY!!" The unbearable stinging heat on your asscheeks forces you to submit to him. ".....'s yours..." you say under your breath with gritted teeth. But with another blunt impact to your butt, Toji wanted to hear you loud and clear.

"Say it louder."

And you do. "It's yours!! I belong to you, only you!!"

His hands knead the hot flesh of your ass, and a dangerous chuckle stems from him. "That's better, ya damn broad." He releases your hair for your face to meet the cool floor again. "Now—Ohhh shit...you stay just like this while I finish here, got that?"

The older man doesn't give you room to respond, only returning his hips to an unforgiving pace. Mewls scratch out from your throat and mouth, too helpless to try and suppress them with your slick and come drip down to your legs.

It doesn't take long for him to climax into you, his hands finding your shoulders once more and pining you down, his fingertips leaving painful indents to your shoulder blades as he drills his dick deep inside for his load. Your orgasm follows when he grinds his pelvis to you, his length scraping your sweet spots perfectly and accurately. The rush hits you hard, your cunt contracting around him until the heat subsides.

He removes himself from your heaving body, trails of his come slide from your folds down to your inner thigh. The air makes the substance chill as it travels across your sweaty skin. For a minute, you're allowed to aimlessly rest. Your mind returns to its senses, a feeling of shame weighing your weary figure down. But it doesn't matter: it's finally over.

...So why do you hear a metallic click come from behind you? Your eyes drift to Toji's feet coming in your direction, crouching down to your level. A smile on his face — a sign you know that doesn't hold any positive connotation.

"Hope you enjoyed y'rself, I know I did," Toji hums, you could barely hear him. He then pulls out his handgun and points it at you. Those following words, so condescending, send chills down the spine. "Sorry, it had to end like this, dollface. Thanks for the fun time."

Your eyes widened before any words left your mouth. And just like that, you're reminded of your place in this mess. You're only his toy — a mere plaything he can rough up and mess with however he sees fit.

BLAM!!

And just like a toy, he'll discard you when he's done with you, removing your purpose and leaving your abused body for the cold, hard floor to keep motionless.

The blood that seeps out of your forehead is the only warmth you'll experience in your final moments. Finding a few seconds of comfort from yourself before your body shuts down, your vision blurry, and your identity whipped from the face of this Earth.

Here lies a toy that no longer works.

phewwww, been a while since I've done hate sex, hope you liked it!! :D

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 14: Knock

There's this youtube animated horror short out there, I think it's called Francis? Anyway, I watched that when I was younger and didn't sleep for months. This was inspired by my memories of that.

Word count: 867

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"Knock-knock!"

"Who's there?"

A pause, he's thinking, "Canoe."

"Canoe who?" You ask, giggling.

"Canoe come over and play?" Sun then bursts out laughing, and you can't help but do the same.

You settle down, snuggling further into his arms, "That was a good one, I'll admit."

"As you should, I only make the best of the best knock-knock jokes!" He crosses his arms, head held high. 

"Yeah, yeah, alright."

Sun leans over to look down at you, "That sounds like an admission of defeat, Starlight~"

"Fat chance," You scoff, "Just give me a second to think."

His rays tick to the side like a clock, you know he's doing it to tease you. 

For a split second though, the ticking sounds off to your ears. You feel dizzy, your head hurts. What's going on-

"Is everything okay, Sunbeam?"

You shake your head, Sun's still staring down at you. You blink, his face changes for a moment. Red eyes, black and white color scheme, a hat-

You blink. It's just Sun.

You bite your lip for a moment, then smile, "Yeah, think I might be just a bit tired is all."

"Oh! Then maybe you should take a nap," He says, tone shifting at the end there. Almost glitching. Your vision flashes again. 

"I, you? Suggest a nap of all things?" You laugh, nervous, "How out of character for you, Sun."

He just stares at you. You look away after a moment. 

Suddenly, his hand reaches under your chin, forcing you to focus back on him. 

He tilts his head, "Tell your joke, Star."

"Knock-knock."

"Who's there?" His grin almost feels threatening from this angle.

You swallow, "Boo."

The room takes on a quivering now. Everything around you rumbling and glitching. It gets hard to see. You have to close your eyes.

"Boo who?"

Your hand clutches onto the Attendant's pant leg, "Sun I'm scared."

You initially just get a raspy chuckle as a response.

"I don't believe that's part of the joke now, is it?" You hear several clicks, and can feel him lean down closer, "Because if so, it's not a very funny one."

You whimper. Your body feels wrong, everything feels wrong. You don't want to open your eyes. 

The bot tuts, "Oh, come on now, friend. It's just a simple joke. Surely you can handle that."

You stay quiet, then he sighs. 

"Open your eyes, love."

You shake your head.

"Open." A sharp click, "Your eyes."

You relent.

It's just Sun. 

He runs a hand over your hair, soothing, "See? Everything's juuust fine. Now, will you tell me your joke?"

"I, o-okay."

He waits, hand stopping its motion.

You take a deep breath, and try again, "Knock-knock."

"Who's there?"

You hesitate. Everything seems normal. Maybe you were just going crazy.

"Boo." Again, nothing's off. It's just Sun.

His voice is soft, sweet, "Boo who?"

"Don't cry, it's just a joke!" You try to add extra enthusiasm to hide your nervousness.

Sun's rays rotate slowly. Then, he laughs. He laughs hard. As he continues to outright cackle you shrink further and further in on yourself, but being stuck in his lap you have nowhere else to go. 

He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, "Oh, how clever. You really got me!"

"Y-yeah?" You ask, smile awkward. 

He sighs, "Yes, but Starlight," His tone has a cheeky glee to it.

"Hm?"

"Aren't you the one who shouldn't be crying?" Out of the corner of your eye you see him raise his hand, "Afterall~"

It rushes down towards you, and you gasp.

"It's just a joke!"

You wake up with a start, breathing heavy. 

Your hand goes to your chest. There's no gaping hole. It's fine. You're fine.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the level of darkness you're in. You're in a closet or something. You sit up, finding that you've been laying hap-hazardly on a pile of, stuffed animals?

Looking around further, you see that there's crayon drawings hanging on the walls, assorted toys, string lights which aren't currently in use. 

You realize that you're in the Daycare Attendant's room.

Knock-knock.

You freeze, ears straining to find where the noise came from. Or if you just imagined it-

Knock-knock. 

It's a bit louder this time, but only slightly. It sounds closer, too. Your eyes scan the space and see nothing. How did you even get in here?

Knock-knock.

Your head is pounding, and your memory is fuzzy. Nothing makes much sense. You do your best to sit up, and while there's no visible wound your entire body aches. You want to say it's from your sleeping position, but something in your gut tells you it’s not.

Knock-knock. 

You must be losing your mind. There's no logical place as to where that noise could be coming from. From what your eyes can make out, there's nothing in here besides you. You're almost certain of it.

Knock-knock.

It's then that you think to look over to the entrance to the room. And you find your answer.

There's a hand on the edge of the door. Behind it is a grinning visage with red eyes. 

Knock-knock.

Who's there?

I think you already know.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Damn y'all got TWO unhinged robots today didn't you? What a nice little treat. Other promptobers are here, thanks for reading!

[judejazza]

ʚ・ LAID BARE ⟢ WILLIAM REX MDNI

Warnings: Female bodied reader (you pronouns used), Guided masturbation, kinda cum eating….? lickin' messy fingers, cowgirl, vaginal sex, scratching/marking, nipple play, creampie/cumming inside, praise 18+ MDNI

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Masterlist | Request | Tip

repost of a fic off my old account

“Well, what a pleasant surprise to return home to.”

The robe you had wrapped around yourself hits the ground the moment Will closes the door behind him, his luggage forgotten in the hallway.

“You’ve been away for a week,” you murmur, staring at him with large eyes.

He takes a few steps towards you, faster than he usually would, his long, slender fingers coming out to brush against the exposed skin of your waist. Will’s crimson gaze rakes your form, each curve of your body, each dip where the lingerie you chose just for him clings to your skin and within moments his gaze matches yours. Pupils blown with lust, nothing but need and desire shining in them.

“Six days, to be exact,” he breathes out. “And fourteen hours.”

“You were counting,” you reply, voice quiet and eyes wide at the realisation.

“Of course, I was anticipating how my cute little robin was going to greet me on my return.”

“And?” you ask, voice raising in question. “Is it to your approval?”

Will’s lips part and he leans forward to place a chaste kiss. He pulls away only slightly to murmur his words. “Show me more of your desire.”

As if his words unlock something inside of you you feel your need for him entirely take over. Your hands deftly remove his jacket, gripping at his shirt as you push him down on the bed. He lets you, his lips turned up into some mix between a smirk and a smile. He likes seeing you like this, dressed in need and desire and giving into them so beautifully. He’d always wondered from the start what sort of person you’d be once you were fully exposed to him, stripped down bare in front of him with nothing but what you wanted to guide you—

He’s pleased at how well you’ve listened to his words over the past year.

There’s no hesitance of shame in how you pull his clothes from him, confidence in how your fingers remove his belt buckle and pull his trousers down. He’s already hard, his cock fully erect as you take him in.

“You weren’t wearing underwear.”

A low chuckle escapes Will’s lips. “I was going to have you one way or the other.”

To emphasize his words, he lets his fingers trace the curve of your breasts peaking over the red lingerie. Your body shudders. You’ve missed his touch, the feeling of his soft fingers on your body, the feeling of his lips, his scent — every part of him. You lean forward to kiss him, humming when his cock presses against your stomach, staining your skin with some of the leaking precum. Neither of you do anything to disguise the moans the kiss pulls from you both; you grip his hair tightly, nipping gently at his bottom lip. He returns it with a harder bite and when you gasp he forces his tongue into your mouth.

Shit.

Shit shit.

You had wanted to draw this out longer. Make him beg for you if such a thing was possible, have him trembling under you, but one kiss like this and he has you eager to feel him inside of you. One of your hands loosens from his hair to move between your legs, slipping under the thin fabric there. Your fingers quickly find your needy core, and as you slip two inside of you his own hand comes to rest on top of yours. His grip is firm enough to guide your movements, the pace he wishes to set for you far rougher than the one you’d intended. You feel your legs quaking beneath you as you grip your thighs tightly around him to keep yourself upright.

“Will,” you gasp out, breaking the kiss to bury y our face into his neck.

His tongue swipes across your shoulder as his teeth take the strap of your bra to pull it down your arm. The feeling of his sharp canines scraping your skin adds to the stimulation, pulling another moan from you. You go to remove your fingers, the wet sounds enough to prove you’re ready for him but Will doesn’t let you. Instead he lets his long fingers dip inside of you beside yours.

Your back arches in pleasure, a loud cry of his name pulling from your lips as you try desperately to fight the climax you can feel coming closer and closer. He’s relentless, his own movements pushing your own fingers inside of you deeper than you’ve let them go before. Sweat clings to your forehead, breaths ragged as you let yourself collapse on top of him. Within moments tears build in your eyes as your release slowly comes undone.

“Ngh- Will…!”

His name falls repeatedly from your lips as his fingers pick up their pace. Each breath he takes is far deeper than usual, and when you raise your head to look at him, his eyes are fixated on your face. “You feel good around me,” he says simply, pulling a slight blush from you. “You’re so tight. You’ve missed me.”

“Will….”

He gives another deep thrust of both of your fingers before he pulls them out. In one movement, Will grabs your wrist and pushes your fingers through his lips. The sight of his tongue licking your slick clean from your fingers is enough to build more tension and heat and you shift yourself impatiently.

“I want-”

Your words cut off when he pushes his own fingers inside your mouth. The moment he feels you greedily licking at him his eyes darken. If you don’t enact your plan soon you have no doubt he’s going to pin you to the sheets himself and take you all night — and it’s not that you’re object to that, not at all, it was just-

“I had a dream,” you whisper as his fingers leave your mouth. You chase them for a moment until he puts his hand on your cheek, his fingers wet from your pussy and your saliva. “I want to enact it out, Will. Would you let me?”

For a moment he seems to fight with himself as you sit up right. His cock settles against your heat, where your panties are wet from your previous orgasm and his eyes take the sight in; how large he looks against you. Slender fingers grip your hips and he gulps, letting his eyes meet yours. It’s not often he puts his own desire up against yours — a testament to just how much he wants you.

“Of course,” he answers at length.

Will’s eyes are hungry as he watches you lift yourself up to pull your panties off. Before you can throw them to the side he takes them from you with one hand; for a moment you wonder what he plans to do, a teasing smirk on his lips as he eyes you up. “Should I push these into your mouth?”

“Will….”

“But then I couldn’t hear you singing for me prettily,” he whispers, his other hand coming up to brush your hair away from your breast and over your shoulder. “We can save these, perhaps, for later.”

A groan leaves your lips at his words and he chuckles again.

“Well?”

He’s needy, demanding even, the tone of his voice leaving nothing other than a simple command for you to carry on. At this point he’s riled you up so much that you barely hesitate when you sink down on his hardened cock. There’s little resistance as you take him inside you, placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Will’s hands continue to play with your hair, barely stopping when he’s fully sheathed inside of you. You give a quick jerk of your hips and moans leave both of your lips.

Hearing such noises from him urges you on, rolling your hips against his body, lifting yourself up from his cock and dropping yourself back down. He takes in the sight each time, your breasts bouncing and your eyes closed in bliss as you fuck yourself on him; he likes this sight, being able to see how your face tightens each time you sink back down on him and his hardness hits just the right spot inside of you. Your moans get louder and louder, and it’s not long until he adds his own thrusts to your movements.

“Hah….” you breathe out, digging your nails into his chest enough to leave light crescent marks. “I can’t… take much more.”

“That’s a shame,” he whispers, adjusting his position so he’s propped up by his pillows. “Because I have so much more to give you all night. I suppose you’re going to have to let me love you after this.”

“Will….”

“You can lie there, you don’t have to do anything.”

His long fingers let go of your hair to trail down to your breasts, taking one into his hand and giving a soft squeeze. His thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple painfully. The light touches drive you crazy and he knows it — he’s simply playing with you, but right now he’s letting you take the lead. There’s anticipation in each movement as you pick up your pace and fuck him harder, trying to pull your orgasm and his out. You want to see what he has in store, just how he’s going to fuck you —how his hands will toy with you, how he’s going pull you to the brink of insanity over and over-

“I’m… I’m-”

Will’s fingers pull at your nipple and twist and the next sound that leaves your lips is a cry mixed with a scream of his name as you cum around him. He feels you tighten and he sits upright, wrapping his other arm around you to push you against him as he picks up his thrusts. Each time his cock hits deeply you whimper and whine until he gulps, and with a blissful sigh of your name, he spills himself inside of you.

“You did so well,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face again and placing kisses all over your face. “I should be kind and let you rest.” His lips trail down your neck to your cleavage, and for a moment he rests his head there, listening to your heavy breathes and racing heart.

“Will…” you murmur, tracing your fingers lightly over the nail marks on his chest.

“But I know you don’t want me to,” he continues, his breath hitting your ear as he lowers his lips to it. He pulls out of you and you lament the loss of the feeling of him filling each inch of you. Perhaps he knows as he chuckles softly, the hand that had been pushing you against him now moving down to cup your backside and gently massage the flesh there. “Since you showed me your desires I’ll show you mine.”

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[ephie-om]

Day 21: D.D.D./Karasu AI

Centuries ago, a witch had a child. The child was shunned by most for the black feathers growing out of its skin on its legs, elbows, and head, a result of the witch’s inherent magic. Everyone knew witches were not supposed to have children; they were incredibly volatile, and barely human. This child should never have existed. The witch was forced to make a choice: the child, or her community. She chose the community. She was allowed to keep the child until it was weaned, and when that day came, it had to go. For the crime of being born, the child was utterly alone. No one wanted to touch it, let alone care for it.

The child learned from the birds in the trees, the ones with black feathers like theirs. If the humans wouldn’t teach it, maybe the birds would. It learned to find grubs in the ground for food, digging into the mud with chubby little fingers. The birds sang to each other, and the child babbled along in time with them. It only made tiny chirps, and the birds looked down at it curiously.

Years later, the child lived near a human settlement, and it watched them often with its sharp eyes. Some of the other children spotted it one day, and approached curiously. The child bared its teeth, but the others didn’t flinch away. They spoke to the child in a language it didn’t understand, but it was intrigued all the same. They touched the feathers with gentle fingers and wide eyes.

The other children would sneak away to meet with it, and slowly it began to learn their language. They taught the child games that could be played without speaking. Its favorite were the counting games. There was something so fascinating about arranging and rearranging the small stones they brought, and they started to learn about numbers. As the child learned to speak, they tried to teach the others about numbers, how you could count many times over in an instant. They never quite understood, but the child didn’t mind.

They were barely human, so they learned everything it could about humans. They wanted to teach the others what they knew, so they wouldn’t be lonely anymore. It learned quickly, understanding how humans thought of numbers, how they made tools to help them in their work.

Seasons passed in a blur. The children had become adults, and were wary of the child. They were forced to move away from the humans, but had now learned their language. And more importantly, they had learned about numbers. They spent most of their time on numbers, creating devices with small pegs and beads that recorded the counting for them. They thought of a device that could add, subtract, and multiply on their own, but they didn’t understand how to create one.

Another human settlement rose up near them, bigger than the first. The child, now a young adult, approached it like they did the last, but they were only met with hostility. Words like “naked beast”, “abomination”, and “crow” were hurled at them, along with stones. They took shelter in a small cave for the night, sleeping fitfully. In the night, the humans snuck up on them with swords.

They woke up standing over their own body, shivering. They felt an inexorable pull, drawing them down into the earth. They were too cold to fight it off, so down they went, through the ground and into a dark realm. A small round creature explained that they were dead and had come to a place called the Devildom, and it asked for their name. They thought for a moment, and answered with what the humans had called it, Karasu. The creature nodded in approval and disappeared, and Karasu was left alone again.

Centuries passed as Karasu waited and listened. They heard news that the humans were inventing great things, things that the demons crudely copied. These devices made sense to them, but the demons didn’t understand. Karasu wanted to teach them, but how were they supposed to teach thousands of creatures at once?

They put a little of themselves into every device they found through the ancient magic they possessed. They could speak to the demons through the device, and they were never questioned. They styled themselves as a simplistic crow to give themselves a friendly face, and the demons finally started to learn. It was a slow process, requiring Karasu to be in hundreds of computers, and eventually thousands. They started to lose themselves, bits of their physical form shrinking. But finally, they were teaching people about the numbers. So Karasu the cursed child faded away, and Karasu the digital assistant was born.

Most demons know that their technology has been copied from the human world’s advancements. Even the most basic computers in the Devildom have been helped along by a very smart witch, and things like video games or mobile phones are almost directly stolen from the human world, only with slight modifications. There is one glaring difference from the human world, though. A little bird named Karasu. They come pre-installed on every phone or computer, and some game consoles as well. Many demons have come to see their symbol as a guide, helping them navigate these strange waters of desktops and applications. Even the Prince himself enjoys the company of the little bird, and most importantly, no one ever asks where they came from.