#a red headed woman with literal breasts laying on the floor

[yaralulu]

came across a piece of rhys and amarantha fanart and literally my first thought was that it was lucien and rhys art….i gotta wrap up this rhycien fic as fast as possible im losing it.

[satorusugurugurl]

Malevolent Queen

Summary: During his reign in the Heian Era, Sukuna is used to Jujutus Sorcerers attempting to exorsize or seal him. What he wasn't used to was you. You were the strongest he'd faced in a long time. You were so strong, he had to make you his.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x FAB!Jujutus Sorcerer

Word Count: 1,507

Warnings: Smut, fighting, (corruption kink?)

A/N: This was a fun suggestion submitted by @sukunasfangurl! I had so much fun writing this while I did my infinity hoop. I hope you enjoy!

Sukuna wasn’t at all phased when he heard a commotion outside his chambers. He glanced at the door briefly before laying his head back down amongst the mountains of pillows flooding his bed. It was most likely another puny sorcerer trying to exorcize him. His loyal followers would be able to handle such a futile attempt.

Why should he raise a finger against the weak?

What he had not been anticipating was for his chamber door to fly open, quite literally off the hinges. Which was surprising, seeing as they had to weigh over two hundred pounds from being adorned with gold. But what was even more surprising was catching sight of the person responsible for the destruction.

A puny jujutsu sorcerer stepped into his chambers. Who was a woman, nonetheless? A woman? How did you manage to get past his forces?

“Ryomen Sukuna!” You yelled. Blood splattered your face as tears left streaks through the crimson. “I’ve come to exorcize you!”

“Foolish woman,” he barked, “you will do no such thing! I, however, will be sending you to meet your maker.”

Sukuna moved in a flash, appearing before your eyes. Killing you would be simple; all he needed to do was rip your throat open with his nails. Doing so would allow him to watch your pretty face turn pale as your blood stained his floor. His fantasies shattered the second he towered over you because you slammed a black flash punch directly into his abdomen.

The blow sent him flying back, hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. He remained still, trying to process what had just occurred. You, a woman, had sent him crashing into a wall. Your body was radiating with cursed energy. The raw power had your hair flying back as you approached him. The sight of you drowning in fury had sent blood rushing to his cock.

“You slayed an entire village! One that so selflessly helped me! Every innocent man, woman, and child!!” You unsheathed your katana. “For that, you will pay with your life!!”

Amid your monologue, Sukuna’s eyes trailed over your body, from the curves of your figure to the mounds of your breasts. Your kimono was stained with blood, soot, and dirt. Despite the gore, your beauty was indescribable. Not only were you seemingly strong, but you were far more beautiful than any of his concubines. He might even say the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

You charged at him again, katana slashing forward, embedded with your cursed energy. Sukuna easily dodged your attack this time, and he was happy that he did. Because of your attack, a crater was now embedded in his wall.

“You're strong, human.”

“Coming from you, that's a compliment.” You barked back, slashing again. This time, he blocked it, grimacing as you stared into each other's eyes. “But flattery will not save your head!” You screamed, slashing over and over again.

Sukuna’s cock throbbed as he smirked. He hadn’t been this entertained in months. His grin slowly faded as you dropped to the ground, spinning to knock him off his feet with your leg. While falling, you hit him with another black flash, a scream of anguish following your movements.

The pure rage in your eyes had Sukuna in awe as you tossed your katana to the side. Your movements were fast, like a viper, and Sukuna watched you straddle his hips, holding your kunai against his throat. He waited for you to say something instead, but words seemed to evade you as your cheeks turned a bright red.

For the first time since you had entered the room, you let your guard down. All because you could feel a hard cock pressing against your ass. You had to be dreaming; this wasn’t real. The King of Curses was not erect right now. But as you pushed back against the bulge, he groaned out loud, smirking.

“I can confirm that it is, in fact, my cock.”

“You’re disgusting!”

Sukuna’s large, calloused hands rested on your hips, holding you in place. “Me? Not in the slightest.” He admired your features, not that you say above him. “Those villagers you were so distraught over, they were disgusting.” When all you did was cock your head in confusion, Sukuna's smirk grew wider. “They tried offering me their children in exchange for safety from the Jujutsu Sorcerer they claimed to have saved.” Your look of shock had him chuckling. “So I just took it upon myself to kill them all. Imagine my disappointment when I didn’t find a sorcerer there.”

“You’re a lair.” You gritted out through your teeth.

“Don’t believe me? I’m happy to show you the letter they sent.”

Curses were liars, and this specific one happened to be The King of Curses! He would lie about anything to save his skin. It would be better for you and the rest of the world to end his life right now!

His words, however, struck a chord in you. So you allowed him to show you said proof, which he had. Reading the words over and over again soured your stomach. How could they offer their children to beg Sukuna to get rid of you after they had sheltered you and tended to your wounds?

“Humans truly are such parasitic creatures.” Sukuna all but cooed next to your ear as you dropped the letter. “Willing to sacrifice one another just to continue their messily pathetic lives.”

His words had you turning towards him. “They were monsters.” You grimaced at the thought of their children being sacrificed.

“The world is better off without them,” he whispered in your ear, “I want to make this a better world for people like me. A world I would like to keep you in.” His tongue darted out, trailing down your neck. “You’re the strongest, most brutal woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of fighting. What do you say about ruling by my side? Together, we can rid this world of these parasites. What do you say, my malevolent queen.”

You wanted to deny him, to tell him that he was insane. He would never stoop to his level, but you had seen the proof, the cold, hard evidence. That proved humans were just as bad as curses. If not worse.

He was right.

Which was how you ended up on his bed, bouncing up and down on his cock. “Fuck~ yes, take what you want! Show me your power.” Sukuna’s hands gripped your hips so hard you were certain that you would have marks there, along with the rest of your body. You would be a tapestry of his kisses and bruising fingertips.

“Lord Sukuna~!” You screamed as he hammered his cock up into your cunt with such power and speed that it had you seeing stars.

“Take my cock~ take it inside that tight wet cunt!~”

“Yes, my lord!” You cried out as he reached his hand up, choking you. “S-Sukuna!” You cried out as you slammed yourself in tandem with his thrusts.

“You’re mine now, little sorcerer. Together, we will rule the world, my queen!”

Between his words and his hand wrapped around your throat, you stood no chance against him. It was as though he was made for you. His cock hit your G-spot perfectly. The two of you fit together like two shards of broken glass. It was hard to imagine wanting to kill him now that he was inside of you. He had shown you the truth.

A truth you would not stand by.

Sukuna smirked, his free hand reaching down and rubbing your clit back and forth. He could see the darkness, the blood lust in your eyes. The desire to rule with him, to make this a world for the two of you! He had never been so thrilled someone had come to kill him.

“Cum on my cock Y/N~ cum for your king!”

Sukuna squeezed your throat harder, cutting off your air as your body jerked, as you squirted all over his crotch and ab’s. The intensity of your orgasm sent Sukuna into his own. His nails dug into your skin as he brutally fucked you. His cock slams into your cervix with each thrust. You gasped for air as he used both his hands to slam you down on him, your bodies conjoined in the rawest form.

Your eyes fluttered, exhaustion from the fighting and the sex overcoming you. Your palms pressed firmly against his chest as you sighed, happy to finally rest. The rest was short-lived asSukuna laughed maniacally, flipping you over, pushing you into the blankets that smelt of sweat and sex.

“We’re far from being over. I don’t plan on stopping until your cunt has every vein of my cock memorized Y/N.” You cried out in pained pleasure as Sukuna snapped his hips into you. Sukuna grinned. You had no one but yourself to blame. You were the strongest he’d faced in a long while, and you would be able to handle this.

[trash-for-seabass]

The greatest gift.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader.

Warnings: porn without plot, breeding kink, unprotected sex, daddy kink, Steve being a wholesome bean, slight mommy kink?

Authors note: merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, merry Kwanzaa.

~~~~

It was cheesy.

It was the cheesiest thing you had ever seen.

Hell it was cheesier then Wisconsin. Mother fucking Wisconsin.

And it was perfect.

Steve and you never talked about finance’s, but clearly the avengers were paying him quite the pretty penny for him to own this beautiful log cabin in upper Maine.

And that’s how you ended up here: laying on the faux bear skin rug staring up at Steve who’s features were only illuminated by the crackling wood fire and the Christmas tree lights.

You giggled at the man before you, completely naked except for the dorky Santa hat he refused to take off. He smiled back at you before nuzzling his face into your shoulder, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses from your jaw to your shoulder.

The tenderness was odd considering your normal sex life with Steve was rough and wild, quite literally bed breaking in some cases. Not to imply this was bad, no it was quite incredible actually it was just……out of the ordinary.

Almost like he was planning something.

Steve kissed down your neck to the swell of your breasts, tickling your skin with his beard as his mouth moves to whisper something inaudible to you.

“Hm?” You questioned, tugging on his hair just lightly enough to make him look at you.

The golden boys cheeks were flushed as red as a beat. Over the years Steve had grown extremely comfortable around you and would often just say whatever was on his mind.

Steve tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, shifting so he was sitting up on his haunches. You followed him, drawing your brows together in worry. You reached out to one of the hands on his knee and covered it with Yours. “What’s going on Stevie. Come on talk to me”

Steve stayed silent for a few more moments before sighing, knowing he could never hide anything from you. “Ok I’m not going to repeat exactly what I said” he paused chewing his lip once more. “But it was something along the lines of, you’d make a wonderful mother”.

All was silent for a moment.

“Okay that was embarrassing” Steve anxiously started, rushing out embarrassed apologies. “I don’t want you to feel pressured your just such an amazing dame- Woman! Your such an amazing woman! And your so good with kids and the other day I saw you with Morgan and Pepper told me about how she wouldn’t stop crying but the minute you picked her up she was quiet as a mouse and I-“

“Stevie” you called above his shouting, squeezing his hand to shut him up.

“Sorry” he said, casting his eyes to the floor, his red blush deepening from embarrassment. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

Slipping your free hand under his chin, you tilted Steve’s head making him look up at you.

“So Stevie wants to be a daddy huh?” It was impossible not to tease him. Steve’s eyes widened as you let his hand go and placed it onto his shoulder, slowing climbing onto his lap until you were straddling him, rubbing the tip of his cock against your dripping wet folds. “You wanna put a baby in me huh cap? Wanna see me get big and round with your kids?”

His cock jumped at that and a shameless moan left his lips.

“Is that what you want daddy?”

You froze, the word slipping past your lips unintentionally. Now it was your turn to blush a crimson red. You hid your face in the crook of his neck sighing loudly.

“Say it again”

You reeled back, staring into Steve’s ocean blue eyes, studying the hungry fire that was burning within them.

You but your lip and sheepishly asked “you wanna put a baby in me daddy?”

With inhumane strength and speed Steve had you on your back on the rug and your knees on his shoulders as he slammed his entire length into you. You cried out, his long cock sat snug against your cervix. He was trying to give you time to adjust but you could feel his body vibrating with excited energy.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you brushed your lips against his ear and whispered in your huskiest voice “fuck me daddy”

Steve set a relentless pace, fucking you hard and fast and hitting that spongy sweet spot with each thrust. Your nails dig into his back, leaving lines that would be gone by tomorrow. He leaned down, folding you in half and fucking you in a mating press position as he grunted in your ear.

“You gonna cum inside me daddy?” You purred in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. “You gonna fuck me full of your kids? Fill me up so much I’m dripping for weeks?”

Steve’s animalistic growl made you clench around him, and he quickly slipped his hand between your bodies, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves so quick and fast he had you cumming in less than a minute.

Your back arched as you screamed his name, your pussy milking his cock. All it took was a whisper of “cum inside me daddy” to send Steve over the edge, growling your name as he shot hot rope after rope of cum inside your pussy.

Steve collapsed on top of you panting in your ear and rolling both on you onto your sides and hooking your leg over his side. You gazed into his eyes, glowing in the fire light. He leaned forward, gently kissing your lips and nuzzling his nose against yours.

“We’re you serious?”

Steve pulled back, gently cupping your face in his big hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Of course I was y/n. You would make the greatest mother in the world.” He leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

Nuzzling into his chest, you smirked “so are you gonna pull out of me any time soon”

A laugh bellowed in Steve’s chest. “Gotta make sure you stayed nice and filled”

The crudeness of the statement shocked you. You pulled back to stare up at Steve again, his gaze now dark and once again full of lust.

“So y/n” he began in a deep voice that made your cunt throb “ready for round two?”

~~~

Edit: Steve originally said under his breath “I can’t wait to see your breasts swell”

[vermillionflames]

Wedding Night

Gaara x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,244

Warnings: arranged marriage, virgin sex, oral sex, unedited smut

I was nervous. My heart had been racing all day thanks to my wedding day anxiety, and the unsolicited advice from literally every single woman attending did not help. Neither did my father’s look of sympathy as he gave me away. My heart, having beat so fast it ran out of fuel, had dropped to the pit of my stomach the second we got into the carriage to take us to our home. This was the first time I was truly alone with my now husband, and it was dead silent. I was convinced he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, bored out of his mind, while my mind was reeling with all the scenarios that could happen.

The Kazekage was many things, but not a charmer. That much I was certain.

The carriage stopped and a guard opened the door. Not acknowledging me, again, Gaara got out first. A second guard presented his hand to help me exit as he continued towards the door. Lovely.

The house was massive, and right in the middle of the village. My face became hot realizing how easy everyone had access to it. Not only did it seem unsafe, the lack of privacy was a waving red flag.

Then I noticed his siblings standing in the door frame. We would have witnesses to our consummation.

I tried not to dwell as I followed Gaara inside.

His siblings vanished from the porch and then the door shut with the wind.

“We have the place to ourselves tonight,” he spoke in a low, monotone voice, “They reside here as well and will be back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully they don’t bother you the same way they bother me.”

“Was that… a joke,” I tried to crack a smile but I was so anxious it didn’t translate through my face.

For the first time all day he really looked at me. The silence was heavy. My shoulders slouched and my face dropped after a few moments, he was disappointed with his bride.

“Come,” he turned around and started up the flight of stairs, “I’ll show you to our room.”

Not having separate rooms detracted half the advice I had been given early, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with being alone when I went to sleep my first nights in a new home.

Gaara opened a door on the second floor and led me inside. The room was nothing special. A king size bed in the middle of the left wall, wearing deep blue sheets. Across were two armoire closets, made of cherrywood, and a door that seemingly led to a bathroom. It was bare, unlived in.

I turned to look at him by my side.

“I don’t have much skill when it comes to decoration,” Gaara said, meeting my eyes, “You can change everything to suit your liking.”

“O-okay,” I answered.

We stood there in silence, staring at each other, yet again.

My face got red as I realized it was about to happen.

“Um,” I stuttered, “Shouldn’t the sheets be white,” I looked down at my feet, embarrassed.

“If you want white sheets we can have them delivered in the morning,” he replied.

My brows furrowed in confusion, “I mean, like, for the blood.”

“What blood,” he asked, stepping closer he grabbed my hand and lifted my arm, “Are you injured?”

“No,” my heart shot up from my gut to my throat, “For the consummation,” I spoke too loudly for my liking. He placed my arm back down at my side.

“You are…,” he looked at me, “A virgin?”

I wanted to crawl into myself and die.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“That is good to know,” he walked towards the bathroom door, “I was hoping we could wait. I know everyone wants you swollen with my child by tomorrow, but,” he opened the door, “I think it best we get to know each other a little more. Your clothes should have been put in the closet on the right, I’ll be in here until you're changed into your pajamas.”

I was relieved at his idea to wait, though part of me just wanted to rip it off like a bandage. Then I got sick again knowing that I have never owned pajamas in my life… and that I sleep naked. I stalked to the closet, hoping there would be something that resembled sleepwear or that my mother had packed my belongings and threw me a bone. Inside all I found were tiny lace pieces and short satin dresses. Obviously, my ninja gear had been omitted from the move since I was no longer allowed to be in active duty, but nothing besides lingerie was inside the closet.

I threw open the single drawer at the bottom, praying for a miracle. It too had nothing but sexy underwear, and I wanted to faint when I saw leather straps. Who did this?! My shock made me lose my grip on the drawer and it fell onto the ground with a loud crash.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I answered too quickly and too loud.

What was I going to do? I couldn’t sleep in my wedding robe. I looked at all the dresses, concluding they revealed too much for a sexless night.

“There’s, um, there’s no pajamas in my closet,” I called to him. The door unlatched and opened as Gaara walked to me.

“I’m sure they just hid it from yo…” he trailed off taking in the mess on the floor, “There has to be something here.”

Gaara picked up a black strap off the floor, “What even is this,” he asked, tossing it aside. “Is this supposed to make me horny,” he picked up a tiny, lace thong, “My sister must have gotten your size wrong.”

I spit out an embarrassed laugh.

Eyes narrowed, he shuffled through the mess on the floor. “Why is there nothing but underwear in this whole closet?!”

“Can I just wear something of yours,” I asked.

His face softened, “Of course. What’s mine, is yours.”

His closet was full of clothes and pajamas, so I had plenty of options. He handed me a large black t-shirt and red drawstring pants. I nodded in thanks.

Gaara went back to the bathroom while I changed. I threw the shirt over my bare chest, swimming in its size. Then began the mental debate of panties. The ones I had worn with my wedding robes had meant to suck me in and were too tight for sleep, so I removed them. I picked up the pait Gaara had thrown aside earlier and put them on, not wanting to be bare underneath his pants. His pajamas were too big for me, but they were comfortable and warm.

“I’m done,” I called as I climbed into the bed. Gaara emerged from the bathroom, having also changed into pajamas, which matched mine. He flicked his wrists and the lights went out. I felt him climb into the bed next to me and settle. The quiet lulled me to sleep, where I dreamt of my husband touching my body.

Something in the night startled me awake. I ripped my eyes open, seeing the bare wall. In my sleep I had turned onto my side, my back facing Gaara… only... He had also turned onto his side and had his arms wrapped around me. His hand had wandered up my shirt and was now resting under my breast.

I squirmed to try and move myself, but he only tightened his hold around me. Panicking, I grabbed his arm and pulled it down, forgetting how strong I was. His shoulder popped and I felt him wake up. His hand remained too close to my boob, which he noticed. He flipped himself over mumbling an apology.

“Wait, Gaara,” I turned, poking his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” he grumbled, half asleep.

“I want to,” I blurted out. I blushed at my confession, but honesty was the best policy.

“Want to what,” he asked, turning onto his back.

“I want to consummate our marriage,” I whispered, regretting how I worded it.

Silence was my answer.

“Um, nevermind,” I moved to lay back down but Gaara sat up and grabbed my face, bringing me in for a kiss. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was nothing like the one we shared during our ceremony. My body tingled in response. I whimpered when he pulled away, wanting more.

“Are you sure,” he asked, holding my face in his hand.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“We’ll go slow,” he promised before kissing me again. His tongue licked my lips asking for entry. I parted, not really knowing what to do. I just knew I wanted him as close to me as possible.

Gaara laid me onto my back, continuing the kiss. He paused to look at me, I fidgeted under his eye. He smiled, genuinely smiled at me, before continuing the kiss. He sucked on my bottom lip, a feeling I won’t soon forget, before trailing kisses down my jaw and neck. His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, his shirt. Tickling my stomach and hips before pushing the fabric upwards.

“I want to keep it on,” I gasped, not ready to be fully naked in front of him, despite the lack of light.

“Okay, Y/N, but anything you keep on, I get to keep on and we can’t make love unless we take off our pants.”

His choice of words shocked me. Make love? We hardly knew each other. Still, I nodded in agreement.

His hands moved to the waistband of the pants I was wearing and slowly pulled them down. He cocked his head to the side, recognizing the thong from earlier.

“I guess Temari did get your size right,” he winked.

I took a deep breath as his fingers looped around that waistband and pulled down. The most private part of me was now bare to him.

“If you want to stop at any point, please tell me. You can shove me to the floor if you want,” he waited for me to acknowledge him before continuing. I didn’t trust my voice so I nodded.

One second he was staring at me, the next his head had fallen to my core. I soon realized what he was doing. His tongue licked up my folds, making my yelp. I had touched myself before, but my fingers never felt like this. I felt him smile with pride as his licks made me squirm and gasp. I kept my hands at my side, gripping the sheets. The pleasure increased when Gaara wrapped his mouth around my clit and lightly sucked, continuing the tongue laps. The bed beneath was soaked from how wet I was.

On instinct, my hands went to his hair and pulled him closer to me as I begged for more. My embarrassment and anxiety from earlier had vanished due to my lack of need for his touch. I didn’t want him to stop, and I told him that too.

I felt one of his fingers enter me, making my volume increase. He pumped his finger before releasing my clit from his mouth.

He looked up at me from his position at my hips, our eyes met and my body came undone.

“Do you still want to,” he stood at the side of the bed when my orgasm stopped rippling through me.

“Yes,” my voice was so heavy with desire I didn’t recognize it.

“Shirts still on?”

I blushed but nodded.

“Okay,” I watched Gaara remove his pants, revealing a long, hard cock. My body hummed in excitement as he climbed back on top of me.

“Y/N,” Gaara grabbed my face with one had, forcing my concentration on his eyes and not his member, “Remember what I said about stopping me?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

He smiled, “Good, now look at me.”

I kept eye contact as he entered me. My face slowly shifted into one of discomfort as more went inside. It wasn’t painful like I had been warned, but it was a new sensation that was extremely uncomfortable.

Gaara groaned when he was fully sheathed. He didn’t move his hips, opting to kiss my cheeks while I got used to his size.

“Please,” I finally asked, “Give me everything.”

Gaara growled in approval before moving his hips backward, slowly he thrust in and out of me. I moaned, moving my hands to grab his back and hold him to me. He took my expression and noises as cues. Once I had gotten louder, and wetter, and quickened his pace, causing me to scratch down his back.

“More,” I begged, and he laughed.

“Tonight, this is as much as you get. I don’t want you to be too sore,” he angled himself to hit a particularly pleasurable spot and I cried out.

We were both sweating, moaning messes when I felt my orgasm approach. Gaara must have felt it too because he quickened his pace enough to meet me. We came together, which is something the old hags told me would not happen. Gaara laid on top of me for some time before flopping over.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Yes,” I was still catching my breath, “That was so much better than what I was told would happen.”

“Oh?” Gaara sat up, massaging circles into my tummy, “Just wait until we become more accustomed to each other’s bodies.”

[sincerelyella]

Accidental NYE Kiss Chapter 3 - Bad Day

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x Ella; Leo x Ella

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

Song inspiration: Bad Day by Daniel Powter

A/N: This is the continuation of my little drabble from NYE that @bbrandy2002 requested where Ella drunkenly kisses Leo … eeeep! I literally didn’t think I’d be here writing a part 3 LOL.

Catch up here if you haven’t read it.

Warnings: Swearing; violence

Words: 1400

Ella could hardly open her eyes. The sun was streaming in from the blinds on the balcony doors by the bed and she hissed away from it like she was a vampire. The minute she moved her head started to pound and she winced. Oh my God I had way too much to drink last night. She slowly peeled one eye open at a time, blinking to try to focus on her surroundings. I’m in my room … She suddenly felt an arm come across her stomach and pull her to the other side of the bed. Ella gasped and turned to see Liam next to her, eyes still closed, hair tousled and a small smile on his half asleep face.

“Good morning, my love,” he said drowsily.

“You’re home!” Ella launched herself into him and she heard his deep laugh as he wrapped his other arm around her. “I thought you were snowed in?” She murmured into his bare chest.

“I was,” he said softly and placed a kiss into her hair. “But they cleared us to leave sooner than I thought. We were able to take off at two and got home around six.” She leaned her head back to look up at him. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for the new year, love.” He stroked her cheek and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Can I … make it up to you?” he said huskily and leaned over to kiss her.

“You … most definitely … can,” she murmured in between kisses.

**

Leo woke up in his quarters on the other side of the palace completely aware of what transpired the night before. He had not one drop of alcohol at the bar, he just saw a beautiful woman sitting alone and without even thinking about it he made his move. Leo had no idea how it happened, but in those 15 minutes he sat with her, he wanted to get to know her. He wanted to kiss her all the time and he wanted to stare into her light brown eyes. He didn’t get much sleep, kept tossing and turning … decided to try to pleasure himself but in the midst of it began thinking about Ella and stopped. This is fucking ridiculous. What the fuck?! He got up out of bed, showered, got dressed and brewed coffee to wake himself up a bit more. The guilt he felt ever since Drake and Maxwell told him that he made out with his brother’s fiancé was making his stomach turn into knots. I need to talk to Liam before those two blockheads tell him first. He looked at his watch, it was 11 am. He should be in his study by now.

He set his coffee mug down, strode out of his quarters and walked down the hallway quickly. He turned the corner and almost ran head first into Ella, who tossed up some paperwork she was holding in surprise. She was wearing a black faux-wrap dress, black heels with her long dark hair curled and laying softly over her breasts. Leo’s eyes scanned her form and stopped at her red lips.

“Uhh …”

“I am so sorry! I should have been looking where I was going.” Ella frantically picked up the pieces of paper on the floor, Leo snapped out of it and began helping her.

“It’s no problem. I’m … Leo,” he looked up at her and she smiled.

“Oh, hi, you look a lot like …” she trailed off, her head tilted to the side, eyes squinting at him while she tried to mentally place who he was.

“I’m Liam’s brother. I’m not usually in Cordonia.” She doesn’t remember anything from last night … does she? Leo held his breath and waited for Ella to respond.

“Right!” She smiled up at him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Leo. Are you looking for Liam?”

Leo nodded.

“He’s in his study,” she waved behind her. “I’ll see you around.”

Leo nodded again, not trusting his voice. He walked towards the study and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called from inside.

He pushed the door open and there stood Liam and Bastien discussing something over the desk. Both men looked up as Leo walked in.

“Leo! I didn’t know you were here. Happy New Year!” Liam grinned at his brother as he walked around his desk and the two hugged, clapping each other on the back.

“Yeah … I just arrived yesterday,” Leo looked at Bastien. “Hey Bas, how’s it going?”

“Prince Leo … it’s good to see you, son,” Bastien patted Leo on the shoulder then looked to Liam. “Sir, let me know when you’re ready to finalize Lady Ella’s security.”

Liam nodded. “Thank you, Bastien.”

Bastien bowed, turned and walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Liam looked at Leo. “So, what brings you home? A break from the racing circuit?” The king sat in his large chair behind his desk and studied his brother quizzically.

Leo sat in one of the armchairs directly in front of the large mahogany desk. “Uh, yeah there was a break for the holiday. I wanted to tell you something.”

“Alright, what kind of trouble are you in, Leo?”

Leo tried to look offended. “Why does everyone think I’m in trouble?”

Liam arched his brow and gave him a look. Leo sighed. “I’m not in trouble … per say. I just may have done something that … someone else … would think is less than ideal.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Okay, so I was at the beer garden last night for New Year’s Eve and I saw a beautiful woman sitting at the bar,” Leo looked up at Liam, who just nodded and motioned for him to continue. “She seemed to be really really drunk so I approached her and I made out with her a little when the New Year came.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Leo took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “The very drunk woman at the bar that I kissed … turned out to be … Ella,” he whispered her name, hoping Liam wouldn’t hear it. But he did.

Liam stood slowly from his chair, his eyes never leaving Leo’s, placed fists on his desk and leaned towards his brother. “You. Did. What?” he enunciated slowly through gritted teeth.

Oh shit! Leo stood as well with his hands up, palms facing Liam. “Liam, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t know.”

“That won’t work. Try again.” Liam snapped, his jaw clenched and his eyes burned into his brother.

“I had no idea who she was, Liam. I haven’t been in the country since I abdicated! How was I supposed to know?” Leo yelled, now frustrated, threw his hands in the air.

“You would know if you were around more, Leo! Instead you disappeared! You weren’t there for me during the social season, ditched the coronation and now you want me to feel bad for you because you kissed my fiancé? Your excuse being you had no idea?!”

The men were face to face now, both hands clenched into fists, angry snarls on their faces as they took each other in.

“You know why I left! I explained everything to you! Now you wanna be a dick about it?! Well you know what,” Leo smirked. “She kissed me back, Liam.”

Liam’s vision blacked out and his self control snapped. He swung his fist and connected with Leo’s jaw. Leo flew back, grabbed his chin and shouted “What. The. Fuck!?!?” With a glare, Leo lunged forward and hit Liam across his face, sending the king back a few steps. Liam bent forward and grabbed Leo with both arms, tackling him to the ground, knocking over the chairs and vase on the end table in the process. Both men were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches for several seconds before Bastien rushed in, Ella trailing behind him.

Liam vaguely heard Bastien come in, he didn’t even hear Ella scream. He felt Bastien tug his arm away from Leo, another guard pulling Leo out from under Liam. Both men struggling against the guard’s holds, staring at each other menacingly.

“What the devil is going on here??” Bastien bellowed.

Leo spat blood onto the floor and motioned towards Liam. “Ask him.”

[nokkusu]

Sukuna X Fem!Reader - I killed them all

Type : One Shot

TW/CW : smut, blood, murder, submissive!reader, blood play, monster kink, suggested torture, degradation kink, slight mention of abuse, orgasm denial, dacryphilia if you squint

You’re sent to the King of Curses as an insult. You’re determined to make this act of rebellion backfire. 

—————————————————————

Sukuna was resting on his side, one of his four hands holding his head, another grabbing a glass of wine. He looked properly annoyed and nobody around knew why exactly. His piercing gaze didn’t miss a single movement around him, looking like a snake ready to strike and kill instantly.

« Your highness » said a man, visibly uncomfortable.

« What ? » Sukuna spat.

« Where... where are the girls? »

The King of Curses groaned and threw his glass away carelessly. The object shattered on the floor, leaving nothing but sparkling shards and a puddle of deep red.

« Dead »

Silence. Absolute silence.

He snorted and got up, readjusting his white kimono lazily.

« I killed them all. They were all so incredibly annoying, the only interesting thing they could do was die. Find me someone else. I’m bored, and you will not like seeing me bored. »

The man left the room in a hurry, looking desperate. That expression filled the king with contempt as he laid down again, impatient to meet his next victim.

A few hours later, the servant came back.

« Your highness, she’s here » he said.

Sukuna looked at him, terrifying red eyes scrutinising the silhouette hidden under rich silk robes and jewellery.

« Leave » he ordered.

The servant turned away in a hurry, slightly bowing down as he walked out of the room. The heavy wooden doors slammed against each other, and silence took back its rightful place.

The curse took a step forward, hunter lurking over his new prey. He felt it, the cursed energy oozing out of you... It was rough and uncontrolled. Sukuna laughed realising they sent him this little wonder of a woman hoping that it would scare him.

You, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t wait. You never understood why all these girls were terrified of the King of Curses. Actually, you hated them for that. He was all you ever wanted to be : feared, powerful, respected. You knew nobody would send you to him because of your abilities if something didn’t happen, but you were determined to change this act of rebellion into their biggest mistake. They sent you to him in hope that he’d murder you too, because you were a shame to the rest of the villagers. But you knew you had potential to make the King of Curses yours. You felt his fingers grab your chin to force your gaze into meeting his. You didn’t resist, too happy to look at him. He was as gorgeous as you expected him to be.

“Now...” he hissed.

You didn’t say a word, waiting for his next sentence.

“Why the fuck did they send you, hm?”

“They thought you’d regret killing all the other bitches if they sent you a cursed toy” you replied, completely honest.

Sukuna’s face went limp for half a second, not expecting you to be so... Shameless. A wide grin split his mouth open on his sharp fangs, twisting his blood red eyes.

« My, my... What a filthy mouth you have. »

He pressed his fingers harder around your chin, sharp black nails digging into your skin.

« I suppose you’re not so scared to be here, aren’t you? »

« Not at all, my King » you replied.

Sukuna sighed, his expression turning immediately into one of pure sadism.

« Well, it’s about to fucking change. »

*

Your wrists were sore from being restrained so tightly, but you didn’t complain. Completely naked, covered in sweat, cum and blood, you’ve never felt happier. Sukuna tied you up against a wall and fucked you for hours before leaving you there, alone, while he was taking a hot bath. You waited for him patiently, forcing your brain to replay the last hours in front of your eyes, calling back the feeling of his cock inside you, summoning his lips against your skin... You were already wet again. Sukuna probably wanted to test your will and ability to resist him, but you showed nothing but perfect obedience and he loved it. You opened your eyes when you heard him come back inside, and discovered with great pleasure that he was still naked and dripping wet.

« This bathtub is too big and too empty. I have to take my new fucktoy in, don’t you think ? »

You smiled shyly, bursting with joy.

« Yes, Master » you whispered when he was close enough to hear you.

He opened the metallic bracelets around your wrists and you felt yourself fall to the floor on all four. One of his hands grabbed your long hair to wrap it around his fist while another smacked your ass.

« Lead the way, slut »

You crawled, rolling your hips slowly, fully aware of his gaze on your bruised ass cheeks. Your knees against the cold marble floor was the only sound in the room until you reached the bath. The tub itself was a gigantic pool made into the ground and surrounded with candles, filled with hot scented water. You could smell cinnamon, and something more... Familiar. Blood. You turned your head to the side and saw them all. Fifteen bodies, slaughtered and laying in a pool of red sticky liquid, already turning brown from the coagulation. Fascinated by the view, you stopped crawling.

« You like that? » the curse asked, resting a feet on your ass.

« A lot, Master. »

His grin only got wider and filled with pride for his new plaything.

« Good girl » he said, releasing your hair.

«  Get in, and wash me. »

You obeyed, way too happy to get another opportunity to touch your King. As you got in the water, you saw the dry blood around the cuts on your hips and arms dissolve, turning the water light pink near you like an aura. Apart from his calloused palms, Sukuna’s skin was soft and warm to the touch, smooth and velvety. You gently rubbed a cloth on his arms and across his chest, your other hand following it closely to caress him, scratching dried chunks of your own blood off of him from time to time.

« I thought you’d pass out, to be honest » he finally said.

You smiled gently, shrugging.

« I’ve seen worse. And as I told you, my King... I like it rough. »

« Good, then. I’m not done with you. »

« I hope so... »

He arched an eyebrow, staring intensely at you.

« Why do you like me so much, your bratty bitch? » he asked, slapping your hands away from him.

You laid back in the water and started washing yourself, thinking about your answer for a moment. »

« Hm... Because you have power. Everyone is afraid of you, and you know how to get what you want. You’re passionate. »

« Not passionate, cruel » he corrected.

« All the same to me. You’re passionate for power and destruction. I wish I could get it all so easily. »

Sukuna’s hand hit you across the face, harshly. Your eyes filled with tears from the pain, but strangely... you understood his gesture.

« You’re too powerful to pity yourself like that. I don’t want a pathetic toy, like all of those corpses » he spat as he pointed them with a finger.

« I want a powerful toy. Someone who will make sure everyone does whatever the fuck I want, and will kill anyone trying to get away. You have that power, I can feel it. You’re literally covered in it. You can get it all. Obey me, and I’ll show you how. »

Your skin felt heavy. For the first time, you understood where that feeling came from. You were glowing blue, a thick coat of cursed energy pulsing in your veins, wrapping you tightly into a blanket of raw power.

« That’s it, sweet girl » he praised. « That’s how you do it. »

Sukuna’s lips crashed onto yours, sending electricity between your legs.

« I’ll show you power » he groaned against your mouth, biting your lip until the rusty taste of blood covered your tongue.

« I’ll show you fear »

Two of his hands lifted you to the border of the pool while the two others cupped your breasts, and the coldness of the marble made you shiver exquisitely. When his thumbs rubbed the hardened buds, a soft moan escaped your bruised lips. The curse shoved his face between your legs, his tongue sliding relentlessly against your wetness until you were just a screaming mess, begging for release.

« Are you going to cum for me? » he asked teasingly, looking up at your twisted face.

« Yes, yes please ! »

« What if I don’t want you to, hm? Will you hold as long as I want you to? »

« I’ll do anything for you, any-... Anything! »

You felt a clawed finger make its way into you, rubbing against your walls until it found that sweet, sweet spot. Sukuna couldn’t stop looking at your face as you tried your best to keep your orgasm to crush you entirely, appreciating your obedience and his name on your lips.

« Fuck me, please! » you repeated again and again, begging for more of him, as much as you could take.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks but you didn’t care. You just wanted to satisfy your king, the only man who ever saw your value.

« Beg again, whore » he grinned, another hand grabbing your throat so tight you almost passed out.

« Oh-please, p-please » you whimpered, shaking uncontrollably.

The cursed let a claw slide between your breasts, opening a thin cut that bled instantly.

« You look so fucking pretty covered in blood... Wait. »

His hands left your body, and all of a sudden you were cold. Nothing more than cold and wet. Sukuna got out of the bath and rang a bell in the other room, yelling at you to stay where you were. After a minute, he came back with the servant who came to your house to bring you to the temple.

« Is he the one who got the stupid idea to send you to me as revenge? »

You nodded.

« No !! No it wasn’t... Please your Highness I didn’t mean to offend you with her, she’s just a whore we found somewh- »

Sukuna hit the man so hard his jaw cracked and went limp. A muffled scream escaped from his injured mouth, quickly silenced by the king’s hand around his throat.

« I’m the only one allowed to call her a whore. She’s mine now and everyone will know it soon enough. You will die for her if I command so. »

He dragged the servant next to you, and asked you to lay down on the floor. You did, waiting patiently. Suddenly, the wet sound of flesh followed by an uncontrolled flow of blood resonated in the bathroom, and you felt it all crash onto your naked body. As you looked up, you saw your King ripping out the servant’s heart with a joyful smile, admiring your body covered in blood.

« So fucking pretty... » he whispered.

He threw the body next to the others and bent over, handing you the bloody muscle.

« Have you ever touched a heart? »

You shook no as you grabbed it with both hands. It was hot, and slippery. The flesh had a lot of different textures that truly fascinated you. Your thumbs pushed against the flesh, turning it to look at the veins, following their trail absentmindedly. The king rubbed your cheek lightly, smearing red all over it.

« I’ll fuck you covered in blood » Sukuna said. « The only right way to do it, don’t you think? »

He smashed the heart on the floor and forced himself between your legs. Your thighs found a perfect angle to wrap around him, just like your arms around his neck, hands grabbing his hair tightly as he pushed his cock inside you. You winced but took it all without hesitation, waiting for the pleasure to come through. And it did, faster than you expected. The curse’s thrusts were harsh and fast, fucking you deeply, burying his length as far as possible inside your creaming pussy, making you feel every vein, every inch of him. The sounds coming out of your mouth were so obscene you almost felt shame for half a second but remembered that being fucked by the King of Curses himself was nothing to be ashamed of. Instead, you locked eyes with him, not missing a single piece of his pleasure and he kept fucking you stupid, making you lose control over and over again, until your throat was sore from screaming so much.

« Cum around my cock, whore. Now » he panted.

Finally, you thought. It wasn’t hard to be submerged by your orgasm, with a cock inside you and your king expectantly waiting. It came in waves, making you shake and squirm, your slick mixing with the blood. Two of Sukuna’s hands cupped your face as his thrusts became less organised and finally... you felt his cock pulsing, releasing his seed deep inside, coating you in it as his shaft brushed against your cervix. A victorious scream climbed up his throat and out of his mouth until he fully unloaded, before crashing his lips against yours again, his tongue asking for more. The kiss left you panting, breathless. It was everything you ever wanted. Power, fear, and respect. Sukuna was right... You can get it all.

—————————————————————

End note : ...okay I’ll admit it I have a bit of a blood kink. Idk I feel like Sukuna has one too? I can totally imagine him fucking anyone in the middle of a pool of blood honestly. Totally makes sense. He’s kind of out of character but I mean... I don’t really care. I hope you enjoyed reading this 👀🖤

Edit 2 : YALL THANKS FOR THE AMOUT OF LOVE JFC

i also apologise for the typos, I think it’s all good now, but since English isn’t my first language any constructive criticism is welcome, I’m really trying to improve my writing 🙇🏻

[rreyie]

can I make a request for a reader x connie x jean x sasha fic where reader eats out sasha (or vice versa) and jean and connie are just watching? excited to see what you do with this one 👀

YES YES YES! i’ve been debating doing something like this for a long time but doing sexual stuff with these three could be so much fun :)))

afternoon snack

summary: you eat sasha out while jean and connie watch

warnings: nsfw- voyeurism, exhibitionism, pussy eating, fingering

a/n- hey luvs! this one was a fun one to make but i had no clue how to end it, so i gave this a shot! also this is my first time writing about wlw content, but i tried my best! hope you all like it!! :)))

you had no clue how you ended up here, it just happened.

you, connie, sasha and jean were all hanging out in your bedroom. connie was splayed out in the floor, pillow beneath his head as he read a comic book, jean on a chair sketching something, and you and sasha laying on the bed as you braided her auburn hair.

out of nowhere, your hormones got to you. you pictured yourself between her legs, eating her out as she called out your name like a prayer. your cunt clenched at the thought, feeling a pit grow in your stomach.

so, you started sneaking in some curious touches. around her neck, her waist, even underneath her boobs when you knew for a fact that neither of the men were looking. your fingerpads ever so gently trailed over her clothed abdomen, going a bit lower every time you came back for more.

it was jean who first noticed it- after all, he’s amazingly observant. he could see your hands trailing along her waist, the way sashas mouth was slightly open and the manner in which you looked at her, like it was some well kept secret.

“having fun over there?” he growled. “you don’t have to be all lovey dovey in front of us.”

he tried to act angry, maybe even a little bit disgusted. the last thing he wanted to see were his two girl best friends fucking each other, right?

wrong.

he could feel his pants tighten a bit, cock waking up due to the sudden corrupt thought. quickly, he placed his sketch pad over his crotch, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

your cheeks turned warm at his words, sashas cheeks also turning flush at the statement. your embarrassment soon faded away, seeing the bulge begin to form in his pants.

“hmmm...your little friend down there doesn’t seem to agree with you”, you snickered.

now jean was the one who was red in the face, connie looking up from the comic book to see what the commotion is about.

“the fuck is going on?” he asked.

“sasha and y/n are literally touching each other while we’re in the room.” jean grunted, hoping that his very obvious boner would go away soon.

connies eyes lit up, a smug smile forming across his face.

“okay, okay. i’m sorry if i sound like a pervert but can you guys like... eat each other out?” he asked. “i’ve never seen girls do it, i’m kinda curious.”

“what the fuck connie?” jean asked. “that’s sick-“

“i’ll do it”, sasha says, a growing heat forming in her stomach. “only if y/n agrees though.” she wouldn’t admit to it, but the fact that her two best friends would be watching her give you a little bit of taste turned her on.

you nod. “sure, let’s give these horny fucks something to watch. connie, pull up a chair.”

connie and jean looked at each other with confused faces, but were they going to protest to this? absolutely not. connie hurriedly pulled up a wooden chair with salmon-colored cushions and sat next to jean.

sasha rested her head on the headboard as her hands slid down to her hips and began to remove her pants by the waistband. you helped her out by practically ripping off her shirt, revealing her toned abs and rather large chest that was hidden by her bra.

you could’ve sworn you saw connie drooling while he watched you remove sashas bra, jean beginning to palm himself while you fiddled with the clasp. the white bra fell on the mattress, sashas pale tits now being exposed to everyone in the room.

if connie didn’t have a boner already, he did now. jeans boner only got worse, now feeling the precum trickle out of the head and down his shaft.

sasha pulled off your shirt as you threw it into a random corner of the room, and you discarded your pants along with it. your heat was throbbing at this point, a stain of arousal lining the bottom of your panties.

now you knew sasha was a boob woman, and every single time you showed her your breasts they never failed to amaze her. but this time, she quite literally ripped the bra off of your body with a hunger you’ve never seen in her before. maybe it was the fact that people were watching.

she gave your breast a quick nip before you pushed her against the headboard once again. out of the corner of your eye, jean had a devious grin on his face while connie just gave you two a little smile. both of them were starting to jerk themselves slowly to the sight, both tips red and veins protruding through their shaft. both men had impressive sizes.

now sasha was prettily laid out on the bed, those braids you had made earlier now messy and tangled. you moved your head in between her soft thighs, which she gave you a squeeze with.

you started out by just dipping your tongue in between her folds to collect the juices you had made beforehand. she had a good taste to her, slightly salty and smooth. she tugged at the sheets, letting out a small moan.

you quickly found her clit, inflamed and needy. you gave it a little flick with your tongue.

“oh- more, please...” sasha begged. “need your tongue...”

you looked up from in between her legs, and gave her a pompous smile, your dimples showing along the corners of your mouth. your chin was wetted with her slick, and oh boy was it a sight to see.

without warning, you plunged a finger into her tight hole, sending her hands flying into your locks. sasha moved her hips slightly as you moved it back and forth around her, getting a feel of her soaked walls. she was trying to hard to feel full, but failing miserably.

“nother’ finger”, she gasped. “please- please y/n...”

you stuffed another finger into her greedy hole, just touching on her sweet spot that sat along the bottom. this sent sasha into a frenzy, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, that was now empty with not thoughts except pleasure.

you continued to lap at her soaked cunt, like a little kitten drinking milk from its bowl. though you may have been content at the moment, sasha was becoming continually unhinged at your constant movements.

jean spat on his hand and continued to fist his hungry cock while connie rubbed the tip of his own, spreading more precum along his swollen tip.

sashas thighs began to tremble, you could tell she was nearing the edge. you’d like to tease her, you really would, but now wasn’t the time. you could tell the men were awaiting sashas climax, hoping to cum with her as their fists wrapped tightly around their cocks. their pace was fast, and you needed to hurry things up.

your fingers practically went into overdrive, curling around her sweet spot as she yanked your hair. her tits jiggled ever so slightly as she let out a gasp, followed by a moan that bordered on screaming.

as soon as you knew it, your girlfriend was creaming around your fingers, the milky fluid dripping off of your fingers.

jean and connie hit their climax too, as their white cum spat out of their tips in ropes. connies eyes were rolled to the back of his head, both men were panting as they rode their orgasmic wave out.

“shiiiitt”, jean exaggerated. “that... was fucking hot.” he looked down on his hand and laughed at the load of cum that stained him.

“made me bust a fucking nut too”, connie added in. “what time is it?”

you checked the clock that rested on your nightstand. “bout’ noon. better start heading down to the mess hall.”

sasha seemed to put her clothes on rather quickly, not saying a word to you, or anyone else in the room. you found this questionable, she was normally chatty after sex- telling you what she liked, what she wanted to do next time, all that.

“you’re awfully quiet”, you say to her. “what’s that about?”

sasha sighed. “getting horny makes me hungry, remember?”

you nod. now that you thought about it, sashas appetite skyrocketed after she climaxed. no wonder why she was so quiet.

you four all walk out of the room as if nothing happened, the only mention of what you did came later that night.

“hey, quick suggestion”, jean said. “can we like... do that again? what we did today?”

you and sasha both blurt out a “yeah”, laughter following while you all walked down the hall.

[burnedbyshoto]

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits. 

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born. 

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded. 

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors. 

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained. 

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing. 

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word. 

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew. 

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body. 

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. 

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips. 

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong. 

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch. 

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin. 

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up. 

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. 

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt. 

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Regular: Part 2 Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You go out of your comfort zone for one night. But one night can’t ruin you if you’re already corrupt, right?

word count: 3.4k (longest one yet!) 

tw: light exhibitionism, nsfw, nudity

previous parts: part 1 part 1.5  *~*Happy Easter!*~*

You love the attention. 

You love the way those onyx eyes follow your every move and the twist of your hips. You love the tilt of his head as he watches you dance for him, as if he’s a king, and you’re the maiden he purchased for pure entertainment. 

Tonight was no different from the past several nights, that much is clear. Geto keeps his hands to himself, either splaying his wingspan across the back of the couch or clasping them in front of him with his elbows on his knees. There was never a hungry air about him. He always seemed to be even-keeled and calm, which made you wonder why he had even come to the club in the first place. 

He had said Gojo brought him out of a need to unwind… So, what did he look like when he was angry? Stressed? Upset? Uncomfortable?

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Geto mentions, leaning back into the couch. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you lie, walking back over to him sultrily. “Just concerned about my roommate eating my leftovers.” 

“Is that something they do often?” he wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“More than you’d think.” You bend over and place your hands on his knees, letting him get a clear view of your breasts beneath the silk, periwinkle camisole. And he eats that view up. His mouth drops open just a little, and you can hear the soft inhale of breath that makes his chest rise. “You know you can touch me, right?” His eyes dart from your exposed chest to your eyes, partially asking permission, and the other part of him trying to call on every amount of reserve he had. 

You could see the internal war waging itself behind his pupils, and for some reason, that also aroused you. Never mind the fact that the man in front of you was as handsome as he was intellectual; the fact that he was fighting himself over whether he should touch your skin like he wanted to makes you feel incredibly powerful.

“Not yet.” 

You take it one step further, straddling his hips with ease. “How about now?” you ask, placing both hands on his chest. Geto shudders underneath your touch, leaning his head back and clenching his jaw, but shakes his head anyways. Uncomfortable? Check. 

“I can’t,” he groans, his fingers twitching on the edge of the couch. You lean in to press your lips to his ear and whisper,

“Why not?” A strangled moan wrenches itself from his throat, and your mouth twitches up at the corners. 

“Because if I do…” he pauses, searching for the will to speak again. “I won’t be able to stop.” 

“You can’t hurt me,” you reply, snaking your hands around his neck and tilting your head to the side. “I just want to make sure you’re satisfied.” You lean in to brush your lips against his, hoping for a moment that he would try to resist even more. But you’re both disappointed and quite pleased when his lips touch yours, pressing against them gently. Almost instantly, his fingers go to your hair, wrapping themselves through the meticulously curled strands and tugging. You moan against his mouth eagerly, pulling his dark blue dress shirt to bring him even closer to you so you can feel his arousal clearly. When Geto pulls away, he has to catch his breath, but not before he nips at your bottom lip and whispers your name. 

“Yes?” You try to search his face, but his eyes are closed and hiding his true feelings. When they snap open, however, you finally see it. 

The hunger. 

“Don’t say yes out of obligation,” he warns, and you shift your hips nervously. “But I want to take you out of here tonight.”

“I’m not saying yes out of obligation.” It’s not a lie. 

“I pay to watch you dance. Not to…” 

“You don’t. You wouldn’t.” 

“Do you really want to do this?” Finally, you think, and some part of you wishes that he wouldn’t ask any more questions. 

“Yes.” 

“Then get your things and meet me in the parking lot.” 

______________________________________________________________________

This could potentially be dangerous. 

You slide on your sweatpants and hoodie, knowing that Geto taking you off-property is something that’s highly unadvised, even by the loosest rules of a stripper. So why aren’t you staying put? It isn’t until you’re lacing up your sneakers that you realize why you don’t care: even if Geto had ill-intent for you, Mrs. Lampton would immediately notice if you didn’t show up for your Friday shift, would immediately know who you had been with, and wouldn’t hesitate to talk to the proper people so you could be found. She could be a ruthless club manager, but that didn’t mean any of her girls went missing under her nose. 

Hannah looks at you from across the room, her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun as she applied eyeliner. 

“It’s a little early for you to be going somewhere, isn’t it?” You approach the woman slowly, taking a receipt and shoving it onto the makeup table in front of her, blank side up. 

“His name is Geto. Six-foot-three. Black eyes, long black hair.” Hannah’s brown eyes flick to yours, then she scribbles down the details with her eyeliner pencil. 

“You’re going to fuck him,” the girl murmurs and you nod carefully. “Make sure you do the right thing. Keep your identification on you. Do you need condoms?” You shake your head, and she places her hand on your wrist. “Please be careful and share your location. I want to see you back here tomorrow night, provided you can walk properly.” She adds a laugh to her comment, but you can feel the worry rolling off of her in waves. 

“I’ll be here tomorrow one way or another,” you assure her, and slide out of the back door as quickly as possible. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The elevator pinged twice, announcing: “Floor forty-five.”

“Come on,” Geto murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and searching for the room key. You stare in awe at the chromatic scheme of the hotel, first floored by the lobby, and then astounded by the architectural design. “Shouldn’t be too far.” 

The ultra-clean wooden floors and sleek hallways seemed like a fantasy straight from the pages of a futuristic novel, but when you arrive at the room - numbered 4594 - you hold your breath. When Geto opens the door, it takes a minute for you to adjust to the sheer elegance of the furnishings. Nothing in the VIP could compare to the already-lit fireplace, beautiful red couch that wrapped around in a semicircle, fully stocked bar, and floor to ceiling windows that displayed the entire uptown scenery. 

“Oh my...” The bag you brought with you drops from your shoulders as you shuffle toward the windows, pressing your hands against the glass and looking down at the busy nightlife below. 

“It’s one of the best views of the city,” he begins, appearing next to you and loosing his long hair from it’s bun. “I love staying here when I need a break from the hustle.” You both lapse into a comfortable silence, watching the city move and breathe from above. When he moves away from the window, your eyes follow him over to the couch, where he sighs and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes before yawning. 

You slide in next to him, tucking an arm around his broad shoulder - which didn’t really reach past his neck. “You should probably get some rest.” Geto laughs, looking over at you with a soft gaze. 

“I should, shouldn’t I?”

“I’ll go shower… and you get comfortable.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

The towel around your body feels softer than fur. The lavender soap is just as exquisite, not leaving a sticky residue like most hotel soaps, but as you rummage around the bag you brought, you find nothing that will clothe you properly. 

“Shit…” As you glance around the ornate bathroom, your eyes land on one of the robes tucked away in a nook beneath the sink. The black fabric would have to do, you think, and as the towel slides off, you reach for the massive robe that slides over your frame easily. You tie the fluffy string around your waist and take one last look at yourself - without makeup, without a wig, and without lingerie - then pad to the other side of the massive room to open the door. 

You stop in your tracks when you see the man who brought you here sprawled out on the egyptian cotton sheets, fast asleep. His arm is tucked underneath his head, and his black hair lays across the rest of the bed like an inky curtain. His shirt is open slightly, but not off, and appears that Geto had almost literally fallen into the bed and instantly closed his eyes. Inhaling, you consider your options.

A. You could wake him and ask if he still wanted to… you know. B. you could let him sleep and deal with the consequences in the morning, or C. you could leave. 

A gentle snore from Geto’s mouth points you in the B direction, and you smile at the thought of him sleeping the night away, as a man of his caliber should. You curl up on the equally elaborate chaise lounge at the foot of the bed and settle into a deep sleep. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Kisses. Tender, feather-light kisses are raining down on your face and neck. A hand smoothes over your forehead, and there’s a tender rumble that sounds like your name. 

“You should have gotten in the bed.” 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking as they adjust in the pale light of very early morning. Blues and pinks and oranges greet you from the floor to ceiling windows, and you turn your head slightly to see Geto sitting on the floor next to the makeshift bed you made for yourself on the chaise. His lips turn up into a slight smile, and you groan as you raise up from your position. 

“No, no, no,” he urges you, the hand on your exposed leg rubbing back and forth with care. “You can sleep some more if you want.” 

“What time is it?” Your voice is laced with sleep, but Geto doesn’t react other than pushing his hair back and looking at the digital clock over your shoulder. 

“It’s about five-thirty.” 

“Ugh…” you slide back down to the lounge chair and sigh heavily, hoping that - just for today - you could take a break. “I’ll need to leave to go to work soon.” 

“They open the club early in the morning?” That’s when you realize that you haven’t told Geto anything about your day life. You crack an eye open and look at him, opening your mouth to reply. 

“I --” Your phone begins to ring from the living room, where you deposited it the night before. Instinctively, you rush to retrieve it, pressing the ‘answer’ button before you can fully register who it is. “Hello?” 

“Y/n… I forgot to tell you that the shop will be closed today,” your aunt mumbles over the phone, and you heave a sigh of relief. “Take the day and I’ll see you on Monday morning.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper back and she grumbles a goodbye before hanging up. You slide the phone from your ear just as you feel slender fingers caressing your jawline and neck. Geto presses a kiss to the space between your earlobe and jaw, and you let the phone drop from your fingers onto the couch as you close your eyes. 

“Work calling?” he asks, hands drifting to your shoulders. 

“Yes,” you breathe, and he hums, tilting your head to the side and nudging the exposed skin with his nose. “I… don’t have to go in.” 

“Lucky me.” A throbbing sensation begins anew between your legs, and you feel the large hands sliding from your shoulders to your waist. “Maybe I can convince Mrs. Lampton to give you the night off, too.” 

“You’d keep me here that long?” Geto chuckles at your question, sliding the robe off of your right shoulder slowly.

“Only if you wanted to,” he whispers against your skin, pressing another kiss to your warm body before reaching for the robe tie. “I wouldn’t mind having you all to myself for another day.” Before he can undo the tie at your waist, you turn to find his lips, biting at his lower one eagerly. He returns the nip, but only briefly before kissing you fully, one of his hands cupping your face. 

“Geto, please,” you whisper as he pulls away, and he hums low in his throat, bordering on a growl-like sound. 

“Don’t say that…” he answers against your lips. “You might get in trouble; I might not be able to control myself if you say that again.” You lace your fingers through his tousled hair and reply with certainty,

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

Geto’s lips crash against your own again, and you find yourself holding onto him for dear life as he pushes the hem of the robe up around your waist, fingers finding your slit faster than you could’ve imagined. You hike your leg up, letting him litter rough pecks down your exposed chest as he strokes your clit with precision. A gasp escapes your mouth, and you angle your head back, catching his gaze while he toys with you. “Geto, I --” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you without any hint of anger. “Call me Suguru.” 

“Suguru…” You let his name fall from your lips with ease, and he grins down at you, raising a brow. 

“That’s it, princess,” he coos, watching your face twitch with pleasure. “That’s all I need to hear. God, you’re so fucking wet.” You hadn’t been touched like this in so long. The feeling of his fingers dancing across your clit was incredible, and for once, your legs were reduced to what felt like jelly. Suguru notices immediately, but instead of shifting you to the couch like you thought he would, he props you up neatly against a window and slides a finger into you.

“Oh, shit.” The feeling of the long digit nestled inside and stroking your core distracts you from the fact that the window is see-through and if one looked hard enough, they’d see a robe-clad figure pressed against it. 

“You like that, don’t you?” When you look up to Suguru's eyes, you see the hunger again; the need to know that he was pleasing you, even if that meant he got nothing out of it. The thought makes you shudder with content, and he takes it as assent before sliding another finger inside of you. You clench around him instantly, and his jet black eyebrows shoot up, noticing your heightened arousal. “Do you want to cum?” The question makes you moan out loud, and Suguru’s lips quirk up a little. “Gotta give me a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, princess.” 

“Yes,” you gasp, his fingers curling up and worming against your walls. “Oh, Suguru, yes, please.” 

“So polite…” he murmurs, pressing a hand next to your head while his other hand makes quick work of you. The sounds of your arousal are obscene to say the least, but you don’t care as you feel the tension in your core tighten to the point of almost snapping. Your hips buck against his hand, needing that release - needing that feeling of tumbling over into nothingness - when suddenly, he pulls his fingers out. 

“No!” Your hands fly to his biceps and his slick-covered fingers grip the back of your left knee. You pant desperately, feeling the sensation of the almost-orgasm abating as soon as his digits left your core. “Su…” you whine, and his brows knit together as he holds you there, hand above you and leaning into your body with your back pressed against the window. He continues to hold your frame against the window, your legs shaking from the denied orgasm. Once the moment passes, he snatches your robe tie off and you slide it down your shoulders, hoping that he will resume his previous ministrations soon. 

But your hopes are dashed when he lets go of your hiked up leg and unbuttons his dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor, followed by his belt and dress pants. The last article of clothing to go is his underwear, but the disappearance of it is overshadowed by the raging hard-on he has. The tip of his thick cock is already red and leaking pre-cum, and Suguru laces his fingers around it to pump it a few times before angling your chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“Do I have your consent, y/n?” 

“Fuck me,” you answer, gripping his forearm. 

“With pleasure.” He hikes your left leg up again, nudging at your entrance with his cock. When he presses into you, you both hiss, his cock not quite fitting. “Damn… Gotta stretch you out, huh?” He hoists your other leg onto his forearm, and you admire his muscles for a second before he attempts again, the feeling of being spread past your limit almost agonizing. “You can take it…” he whispers, leaning his forehead on yours as he sinks into you slowly. When he works a little more of himself into you - about half of his length - he presses a kiss to your opened lips, feeling your warm breath against his nose. 

“Su,” you exhale, and he nods a little. “It’s been a while…” 

“I can fucking tell.” His laughter is cut short by another inch of him sinking into your core, which makes both of you moan. “But it’s okay. Tell me if you need to take a break.” You nod, nipping at his bottom lip again, and he grunts, kissing down your sweaty neck before his lips latch onto your nipple. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your hips meet in a flash and Suguru’s head shoots up to look at you carefully. 

“Didn’t expect that,” he notes, searching your face for any sign of immediate pain. “Careful there.” He waits a minute before pulling back and then easing himself into you again, taking his sweet time as you unravel beneath him. 

“Please, Su, please…” you whisper shakily. You dig your nails into his skin and he exhales, quickening his pace a fraction as he dips low to find your nipple again. He rolls the bud around with his tongue, teeth grazing over it tenderly before he sucks hard, making you groan loudly. 

“You know how many people could look up and see me fucking you right now?” he breathes into your ear after his lips have left your chest. “But no one can touch you… no one but me.” He thrusts into you to make his point, pistoning his hips at a faster pace than before. You want to cry out, but his lips against yours muffles your exclamation. Before long, you can feel his balls slapping against your drenched core. The squelching noises and the slapping of skin soon fills the room and drives you even deeper into your tunnel vision of just you and Su, enhancing your impending orgasm. No one else matters. Nothing else matters. 

Suddenly, Suguru pulls out and lets you down, pushing your hip to turn you around so you’re facing the whole world while he fucks you from behind. When he slides into you, you stiffen a little, watching the world below you move at a leisurely pace this early in the morning. But your hands slide against the glass as he begins his work, grunting in response to your mewls of pleasure. You couldn’t focus on the cars or the businesspeople below… All you could feel was the massive cock between your legs, and the sensation of fingers on your clit paired with balls slapping against it occasionally. 

“I don’t want anyone else having you like this,” he hisses, and you whine a little, feeling his cock bruising your cervix. “Only me.” 

And with those words, you break. A massive shudder rolls down your spine and you feel the insane build up of two delayed orgasms crest over you. You shake violently against the cool glass; your sweaty body feeling only a fraction of relief at the sensation. As you clench around Suguru’s cock rhythmically, stars dance in the edges of your vision, and he picks up his speed, fucking you with purpose. 

“Oh, god, I’m gonna --” Spurts of cum shoot into your core before he can finish, painting your walls white and mixing with your cum liberally. Panting, Suguru drags you back to the couch, cock still inside of you while he catches his breath and you attempt to bring yourself back to reality. Before you can rest your head and close your eyes, you hear him murmur, “Please; no one else but me, y/n.”

[littlesniggy]

(No) Strings Attached

Anon: what about doflamingo x reader where reader was unknowingly entangled in a plan their friend (what an asshole lol😂) created without telling reader and they end up being doflamingo's concubines? reader knows their life is basically over if doflamingo owns them now so just does what he says, but includes scenarios reader isnt familiar with, so doflamingo uses his strings to play with them like a toy and this extends to sex too. i dont know if this sounds confusing to you but i'd love to to see doffy use his strings on reader which leads to them doing things against their own will.♥♥ hope this sounds interesting to you!♥

I hope I got this right, lol. There were a lot of information but it was actually fun writing this. Thank you for your request! I hop you like it as well!

Warning: 18+, smut, dubcon (maybe a little), overstimulation, (forced) masturbation, Master/ slave

Word count: 2.3k

It had all started so well! Your friend had invited you to one of Doflamingo’s famous parties, telling you how much fun they usually were. Blinded by his stories and the prospect of meeting the king himself had you agreeing almost on the spot. The party was great; lots of alcohol, good music, dancing – the whole way. Your friend even introduced you Doflamingo and the king seemed fairly interested in you – much to your dismay as you would find out later.

The tall man was intimidating, yes, but he had this aura of self-confidence around him that had you drawn to him. The way he talked, the way he walked, hell! Even the way he drank his wine had something almost divine. It was just the way he carried himself.

It was like a dream come true when Doflamingo invited you to stay over-night. It was rough but you liked it that way so you didn’t mind. He made you cum so hard that you were seeing stars, clinging to him like a starved woman clinging to dear life. It all went downhill from then on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the king asked you once you got fully dressed and made your way over to the huge door. You stopped, looking at him over your shoulder in confusion. “Home?” it was more of a question than an answer. Why would he ask? Wasn’t it obvious?

“I don’t think so. You’re staying here from now on.” He informed you, a huge grin on his face. He was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand, watching you through his sunglasses. “Why would I stay?” you wondered. King or not, you wanted to go home and take a shower.

“Do you know the reason why you were invited in the first place?” Now you were curious. “What do you mean?” you wanted to know, turning your whole body towards him. He chuckled, looking amused at your confusion. “Your ‘friend’ made some bad business choices and he needed to pay for it somehow. So, he offered you in return.” You must’ve looked like a child that was trying to understand a grown-up because he elaborated. “In other words: you’re mine.” This, you did understand and you slowly started shaking your head, increasing the speed until you shook your head so violently, your vision blurred. “No, no, no, no, no. No! He wouldn’t do that! You’re lying!” you accused him and his grin dropped, replaced by a frown.

“Believe it or not but you won’t leave this castle unless I let you.” He got up, not bothering covering himself and showing off his, admittedly, perfect body. He grabbed a pair of briefs and put them on. “I’m leaving now.” You announced, still not believing him. Doflamingo didn’t stop you when you left the room but you quickly found out that the guards were ordered to not let you leave.

“Let me through! I’m leaving!” you tried to shove past them but it was to no avail. “We have orders to keep you inside. Please, step back from the door.” One said, holding a hand out to keep you at a distance. “What the? Let me out!” you sounded hysteric and became more violently. “Miss, please! Stay back!”

Since then, two weeks have passed and you just couldn’t get accustomed to now basically being a concubine. Doflamingo made you wear more than revealing outfits and you had to serve him whenever there was a party or when he wanted to get some relieve. First, you thought that having sex with him again might not be too bad since last time was just mind-blowing – oh how wrong you were. It was still mind-blowing, but the process that usually led to your orgasm was torture.

You had noticed him playing with you outside of the bedroom – literally. Whenever you made some small mistake like dropping something minor, he’d use his strings and paly you like a doll. You had to clean something (which actually wasn’t your ‘job’ since you weren’t a maid) but couldn’t reach the spot? He’d use his strings. Your blouse was buttoned up too much? He’d use his strings and make you open a few of them, revealing more of your cleavage. The list went on and on but the moments he just loved to use his strings on you were in the bedroom.

Your body was moving to the music playing in the background, your movements smooth and fluid like you’ve never done anything else in your life. Doflamingo was sitting on his throne, his fingers were moving as he was watching you. Your skimpy outfit helped little to make you feel less embarrassed. You felt exposed but couldn’t do anything against it, the strings, as thin and fragile they seemed were extremely strong and you had no way of escaping.

Your hands moved over your body, following your curves as your hips moved in a swaying motion. “You’re getting better, Y/n.” he purred appreciative. You tried to avoid looking at him as much as possible but it wasn’t that easy.

A jolt went through your body and you were forced to dance towards him. Your body reluctantly followed his orders until you were standing right in front of him. His pink coat was like a second, visible aura surrounding him; it looked heavy and the more you started to get to see him the more intimidating this coat became.

Doflamingo looked you up and down, his grin never wavering. “Don’t you want to get undressed for your master?” he asked you, trying to sound innocent but failing miserably. The sadism was basically dripping from his voice like honey from a spoon. He made you move your hands to your blouse, opening it slowly but skillfully. More and more of your skin got exposed until you let the fabric glide over your shoulders to the floor. He forbade you from wearing a bra so your breasts were fully exposed to his hungry eyes (you imagined).

“Good girl.” He praised again. You lowered your head in embarrassment but he made you lift your head again, forcing you to look at him. “If you look down again, I’ll make you do things you’ll never forget. And believe me when I tell you I’ve been nice to you so far.” As if to punctuate his words he made you lift your hand up to your throat. Your fingers closed around the warm neck and your grip tightened. Your eyes widened in panic but you couldn’t move, couldn’t pull your hand away and had to watch him watch you choke ‘yourself’. Tears began running down your face and you looked at him pleadingly. “P-please….” Your voice was barely audible, you desperately tried to take in a breath but your grip was too tight.

Only when you were about to pass out did he let go and you took in the much-needed air, filling your lungs. You coughed, body trembling. Your eyes and your face were red from the lack of oxygen. Doflamingo kept a straight face throughout your whole ordeal, looking even more amused than before.

“What do you say when someone doesn’t kill you?” he asked. It took you a couple seconds to catch your breath but eventually you answered him.

“Thank you for not killing me, Master.” Voice croaky and hurting you pressed the words out like a curse. “That’s right.”

You felt your hands moving across your body until the eventually stopped at your breasts. You started massaging them just the right way and felt some kind of appreciation; at least he knew how to pleasure women. You pinched your nipples between your fingers, twisting and pulling on them, making you moan. “If it feels good, what do you say?”

“Please don’t stop, Master.” You moaned when you pinched your nipples harder, a small jolt of pain rushing through your body but pleasure followed right suit. You felt your core getting wet and coating your panties and Doflamingo must’ve smelled it because your right hand wandered down, opened the button and zipper, and pulled your pants down along with your damp panties.

The king looked right at your core and licked his lips. “Are you wet?” he asked you, made you glide your finger over your sensitive lips and your slightly swollen clit. You mewled but knew you had to answer. “I’m so wet, Master. Please, let me touch myself.” You begged, feeling pathetic as you asked for his permission. But Doflamingo was more than pleased with your behavior. “The you should get down on the floor and you may please yourself.” He permitted and before you could thank him you were lying on the floor, back pressed against the cold stones, legs spread and exposing your womanhood.

“Do you want to fuck yourself on your fingers?” he asked, curiosity swinging in his voice. He leaned down a little, elbows on his knees. “Y-yes, Master.” You admitted, knowing he wanted you to do it. Your hands travelled over your body once again, squeezing your tits tightly together before they moved down. He made you put your hands on your thighs, pushing them further apart, exposing you even more. Then, your hand moved over to your core, rubbing against your lips before entering yourself. Your other hand started circling your clit, pressing down slightly when you started moving the finger inside of you.

A moan escaped your lips and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling. But no matter how food it felt you knew he wouldn’t let you cum so easily. A second finger joined the first one and you spread them, feeling the slight discomfort from the foreign feeling inside of you. You concentrated on your clit, the way your thumb pressed down on it and then circled it again. “I-it feels so good.” You panted, opening your eyes to look at him. He seemed to be focused on your face but you weren’t quite sure due to his sunglasses.

“Do you want to add another finger?” Doflamingo asked, licking his lips once again. You nodded, whimpering at the feeling of another finger inside of you. You moved them forth and back, you slightly bucked your hips against your movements, lifting them off the floor every now and then.

Suddenly, your hands started thrusting inside of you violently, your finger rubbing your clit almost desperately fast. You moaned loudly, body writhing under your ministration. Your orgasm was rushing closer and closer, way faster than you had anticipated due to your movements. Your stomach tightened, your toes curled and you came hard around your fingers, clenching around them.

But Doflamingo wasn’t done yet; your fingers kept thrusting inside of you, the speed not wavering at all. Your clit felt over-sensitive and swollen, your walls kept clenching around your fingers until it started to feel painful due to the overstimulation.

“S-stop! Hah! Please, M-Master!” you moaned. Your body struggled against your movements, trying to inch away but Doflamingo not letting you.

Soon, pleasure took over your body again, your finger curled just the right way, hitting your g-spot. Your thighs were quivering, hips uncontrollably lifting off the floor and slamming down again. Your legs tried to open up more and close themselves at the same time. It didn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you. Slick juice was dirtying the floor under and ion front of you, some of it even splashing on Doflamingo’s shoes. Once you seemed ‘empty’ did he stop your movements. You were panting heavily; your breath was knocked out of your lungs and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus.

The king chuckled at the sight of you and finally spoke up again. “You made quite a mess. You need to clean it.” He told you, voice almost sounding a little sympathetic. Almost. You knew you didn’t have a choice but Doflamingo still made you move your body and made you position yourself on your knees right in front of the mess you made. “Lick it up.” A simple order, three words and yet it was hard for you to comprehend. You looked at the floor, the slick juice glistering in the light.

You felt your head being pushed down until your cheek was almost pressing against the floor. You saw Doflamingo getting up out of the corner of your eyes. He walked around you until he disappeared behind you. A shuffling noise indicated him opening his pants and kneeling behind you. You felt the tip of his dick at your entrance, coating it in your cum. Your over-sensitive flesh sent jolts through your body and you instinctively tried to jerk away – to no avail.

“I said to lick it up.” His voice was right next to your ear but he didn’t give you room to follow his order. His huge hand pressed your face down, right into your juice. At the same time his hips snapped forward and he entered you in one swift motion. You had your eyes shut, cold liquid coating your cheek, and an almost animalistic moan rumbled through your body. Doflamingo grunted behind you, one hand gripping your hips tightly.

He started moving inside of you, his other hand kept pressing you down, moving your face through the slick fluid. “Lick….it…up…!” he panted, pressing your face harder against the floor. Your tongue darted out, trying to do as he told you. The king seemed pleased and fucked you into oblivion.

You had no idea how long he fucked you nor how many times he made you cum but in the end your body was curled up into a small ball, your senses on edge and everything hurting. Doflamingo walked through the throne room, circling you like a wolf.

“I’ll give you one hour. I’m free today so this was just the beginning.”

[strong-as-a-tree]

LEVI X HANDMAID!READER (THE HANDMAID’S TALE X SNK - CROSSOVER) // PART. 7

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader (also Erwin but not romantically)

Disclaimers: Considering what the Handmaid’s Tale is talking about, expect to have some shocking scenes in this. If you are not sure, please look out for a summary of the show on the internet before reading. This story will contain sensible topics if you are not comfortable with the followings, please don’t read this story ♡

Also, yeah the characters will be slightly OOC, because of the nature of the story I couldn’t do it differently, I know Canon Erwin would never endorse Gilead, it literally hurts me to write him as this disgusting Commander… Sorry in advance for any Erwin’s simps !

TW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Female Oppression, mention of executional death, childbirth

Minors DNI

Word count: 1,852 words MASTERLIST

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6

"Ofdaniel is in labour!"

Ruth had woken you up with this amazing news, the older woman immediately helped you get dressed, as the minivan was on its way to pick you up. You had never witnessed a birth yet, of course you knew what you would have to do, they prepared every handmaids for those kind of events back at the Red Center. Despite knowing what was to come, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the prospect of witnessing the birth of a child.

The red mini van picked you up, it was raining outside, you could hear the rain hitting the van from inside. As usual, the handmaids weren't allowed to talk in the vehicle, but you could all feel the excitement filling the air.

You were the last handmaids to arrive at the house, and Aunt Olga greeted you with a large grin on her face. She made you all walk in single file along the long corridor leading you to Ofdaniel. You spotted the wives on your way there, all dressed in their regular blue dresses, crowded around Ofdaniel's Commander's wife, who was on the floor, acting as though she was having contractions. Childbirth, like the Ceremony, had a strict protocol to follow, one of which was that the wife must act as if she is in labor herself, allegedly to strengthen the bond between the future mother and the baby.

When you entered the master bedroom, Ofdaniel was panting and her contractions were getting harder and stronger, and the image of the wives soon faded from your mind. The majority of the handmaids had already gathered around her, doing the breathing exercise with her, you joined them. When it was time to push, all the handmaids assisted Ofdaniel to sit in the wooden birthing chair, 'breath in, breath out'. 'Breath in, breath out', the wives entered and helped the Commander's wife to sit on the chair too, right behind Ofdaniel, you didn't even laid an eyes on them, you were sorely focused on Ofdaniel. She was amazing, breathing at the right times, pushing like they taught you at the Red Center.

There were so many people in the room, but still, you thought Ofdaniel was the epitome of dignity, you were awestruck by her strength. Meanwhile, the Commander's wife was also letting out small whimpers, acting as she was pushing along with Ofdaniel. As Aunt Olga announced that the baby's head was out, you patted Ofdaniel's back, 'breath in, breath out,' and the baby was eventually out after a few pushes. Silence fell in the room, when a cry finally escaped the infant's mouth, everyone let out a cry of relief. "There is no greater miracle than the miracle of life." said Aunt Olga with a smile on her face. Ofdaniel was glowing, already putting her arms towards the baby, but Aunt Olga ignored her and gave the baby to the Commander's wife.

One of the handmaid took Ofdaniel's hands so the wives wouldn't notice her previous gesture, you could see that Ofdaniel eyes were glued to her baby, the wives were already leaving the room. You noticed Ofdaniel's face contort in a desperate state, tears streaming down her cheeks, and you knew she was about to explode; you weren't the only one who realised it, and all the handmaids gathered around her and hugged her, preventing the woman from doing anything that would result in her punishment. Her muffled cries could be heard, and silent tears welled up in your eyes as well.

Most of the other handmaids had left, the other that stayed were helping the Martha of the house with the buffet for the Commanders and the wives. You were still in the master bedroom, Aunt Olga had asked you to stay with Ofdaniel, the older woman was surely with the Commander's wife, examining the baby, it was also part of an Aunt's job after all. You were sitting on the bed, next to you was Ofdaniel, she was laying under the covers, you had helped her get cleaned with Ofgrisha earlier. She was silent, her eyes were wide open, looking at the ceiling above you. You were holding her hand that was resting on her still swollen stomach, "It's funny, y'know", Ofdaniel's voice was so faint that at first you thought you had imagined it. The woman didn't wait for you to ask her what was funny as she continued, "Every month they desperately tried to put a child in me here, in this bedroom, and today they placed me in this bedroom again, but this time, I had to give them back this child..."

You pinched your lips, unsure what to say; although Gilead taught you that your whole life should revolve around having a baby, you had a nagging feeling that if life had been different for you, if Gilead hadn't existed, if they hadn't taken you away from your parents when you were still a teenager, you wouldn't have wanted children. Maybe Gilead simply ruined the idea of motherhood for you, and you were lying to yourself, 'there is no use to think about that, it's not like you would ever be a mother anyway', you thought as you tried to push the mental image of a baby in your arms out of your mind.

Having a baby would entail, like Ofdaniel, having to give it up and immediately go to another 'family' to give them another child. You knew it was your fate, Gilead frequently tested their handmaids, and you knew for a fact that you were very much able to get pregnant. As Aunt Olga would say, that meant you'd never be transferred to the colonies; you'd been blessed. Still, after every Ceremonies, you couldn't help but pray that your Commander was sterile, every month without getting pregnant, were days of semblance of 'freedom'. Not being pregnant, not being under a man's body, not having to take care of another person's child, was the maximum freedom a woman could get in Gilead.

"Ah, my girls!", your thoughts got interrupted as Aunt Olga entered the room, she was beaming! Ofdaniel looked at her with an absent look on her face, you recognized that look, you had worn it before, she had given up. You immediately thought of Levi's words; 'If you continue to shield your mind like this, [...] you'll lose yourself'. You tried to catch her attention by shaking her hand a little, but it was in vain, she didn't acknowledge your gesture. "Oh! Ofdaniel, you did such a good job!" exclaimed the older woman as she sat on the opposite side of the bed, taking Ofdaniel's other hand, "Your Commander is so happy! And his wife too!", Olga was overjoyed, you couldn't help but think she must be even more happy that the parents, you had seen the look on her face when she handed the infant to the wife, there was a tinge of envy, if not outright jealously, beneath her plastered smile. It was not the first time you had seen that look on her face, on your way to the your Commander's house, you also had that thought about the older woman.

"The baby is an healthy little boy, five fingers and five toes on each hand and foot!", said the woman with a laugh, at that statement Ofdaniel's eyes shot up, "C-can I see him?", Aunt Olga sighed, her palm resting on Ofdaniel's cheek, "Oh my dear..." she whispered, "I wish I could say yes for the sake of the baby's health! But the Commander's wife doesn't want you to breastfeed the baby", she said with a disappointed voice. Ofdaniel looked at the ceiling again, a single tear streaming down her cheek, as Olga continued blabbering about how it was a shame that the baby will be fed with formula instead of breast milk. The older woman was known for always saying how much she cared and loved her 'girls', what a lie you thought, right now her only worry was on the infant, not on Ofdaniel.

"I think Ofdaniel needs some rest, Aunt Olga," you finally murmured, interrupting the woman's outpouring, "Oh, you are right Oferwin, how lucky you are Ofdaniel to have such a caring friend beside you!" You cringed at her words; 'lucky' was not the word you had in mind right now. Suddenly Ofdaniel sat up and grabbed Olga's hand, stopping the older woman as she was about to get up, "What's his name?". Olga hesitated a second, studying Ofdaniel's face, "They named him Armin."

You spent the entire day with Ofdaniel, Ofgrisha had come at some point to keep you company, but it was very silent. As the day progressed, Ofdaniel's sadness worsened, and she was forced to return to her chamber. The new parents no longer needed her, therefore she will return to the Red Center tomorrow to rest before being assigned to a new family.

It was late at night and all the other handmaids had left, Aunt Olga had called for Levi to bring you back home, you kissed Ofdaniel's forehead, "I'm sorry" you whispered. You weren't quite sure why you were apologizing, maybe you said sorry because you knew no one would apologize to her; her Commander would never apologize for the Ceremonies, his wife would never apologize for taking her baby away, Aunt Olga would never apologize for not defending her right to see little Armin, Gilead would never apologize.

As you were leaving, you passed by the living room, you caught a glimpse of the baby, he was in a little bassinet, his eyes were closed, but you saw some light almost white hair sticking out of his bonnet. Levi was waiting for you in front of the black Range Rover, he opened the door for you, after making sure you were comfortable, the driver took a seat behind the wheel. You were in the back, you felt tired, all of the emotions of the day took a toll on you. "It's a boy" you suddenly said, you didn't know why you said it, you were sure Levi couldn't care less about the child, but you felt the need to talk. The man didn't react at your words, his eyes were focused on the road, "I think he'll have blond hair, like Ofdaniel", you said, smiling at that thought, neither the Commander nor his wife had blond hair, so the child would at least get something from his mother.

Levi looked at you in the rearview mirror, "Hopefully he won't inherit the Commander's nose", you snorted, he said it with such a nonchalant voice. You continued to tell him how the day went, not forgetting to mention every little detail that you thought were important, like how amazed you were at Ofdaniel's strength or how ridiculous the wife looked when she faked having contractions. Levi didn't speak much, only nodding or giving a witty remark here and there. It was relaxing, it was strangely normal. Normality was such a foreign feeling since you arrived at Gilead, so you embraced the moment.

lovely people: @rapsgoddess​ @a--nonymousse​ @gothiccii @omlbarnes​ @hybrid-huntress​

PART 8

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Tolerance

Summary: Natasha likes to push.

Warning: 18+ Language, Jealousy, Teasing, Smut (Daddy kink, marking, spanking, fingering, strap on) 

Word Count: 2,031

Side Note: I have no idea what made me write this but I’ve never written straight up smut so I hope this isn’t crap.

****** 

She is a tease.

The biggest tease you’ve ever met.

It’s nothing you can’t handle but that doesn’t mean you enjoy not being able to do anything about it.

Quite frankly you knew this was going to happen. Tony and Pepper sent Morgan to spend the weekend with her grandparents which meant free time for them. In true Tony Stark fashion, he planned a party.

He told the team weeks ahead of time and it’s safe to say that everyone got considerably excited over it. There hadn’t been a Stark party since long before the snap and no one would admit how much they missed them.

When Saturday night arrived, you and Natasha got ready an hour before the party. Despite your admonishing to do so before then, only for Natasha to dismiss that idea by telling you that you would just be fashionably late.

The second she left your bedroom to get dressed you knew she was up to something. So before you pulled on your black dress pants, you stepped into a harness and secured Natasha’s favorite red ribbed dildo to it, tying it to your thigh with an inconspicuously wrapped belt.

As always your girlfriend looks beyond gorgeous. The black thigh length dress exposes her back and leaves a space at her side, revealing just enough of the curve of her breast to make you clench your jaw.

She combs her fingers up into her hair and shakes the curls out to leave a wavy look behind.

On the drive to the building you warn Natasha not to try anything, her smirking at you and saying,“ we’ll see.”

And you so indeed see.

Along with the team, there are a number of other people around. The King and Princess of Wakanda escorted by the general, Fury and Hill, as well as the Captain herself Carol.

Which leaves a number of people for Natasha to flirt with.

No matter where you stand she’s directly in your line of sight: at the bar with Bucky and Steve, on the provided couches with Wanda and Clint, in a corner with Tony and Bruce.

She leaves lingering touches on the people she’s chosen to drag into her little game. Leaning close to them just enough to put her chest on display.

If it weren’t Natasha everyone might’ve thought something of her actions, but it’s very publicly known that she’s your girl.

The two of you hadn’t fucked out in the open at any point but you never bothered to cover the many bruises and marks you decided to leave on each other. And that’s evidence enough.

Apparently though, someone didn’t get the memo.

Two hours into the party, as Natasha notices your lack of reaction, she tries for a more embolden play.

Grabbing the hand of Carol Danvers, she pulls the woman on to the dance floor.

It’s not packed enough for you to lose her, which you’re grateful for. It allows you to send a murderous glare their way as you watch your girlfriend sexually dance against the blonde woman.

Her hips move in an enticing manner, the Captain matching her movement as her hands lay against your girlfriend’s hips.

Disregarding the drink you just ordered, you march over to the two, jaw clenched so tightly your teeth might shatter.

Natasha’s green eyes alight as you approach. Fire setting inside her when you grab her waist and spin her into you.

“Excuse me, we have something important to discuss.” You give your best smile to the blonde woman before pulling Natasha away.

She excitedly keeps pace with you as you walk through the hallway of the venue, each step taken with intense purpose.

Having never been in the building before you aren’t sure where to go, purposefully passing the bathrooms, until you finally find a door marked ‘Administrative Office’.

Natasha has no time to think. You open the door and pull her into the room, pressing your lips against hers with pent up fervor.

She eagerly returns it, a cocky smirk breaking the kiss.

“What’s gotten into you Y/L/N?” She teases.

“You don’t think I knew what your plan was already?” You cock a brow at her.“ This skimpy little dress of yours gave the plan away before we even left the apartment.”

She knows you knew, she just didn’t think you caught on that early.

“I-”

“Don’t. I’m sure whatever you’re about to say is a bunch of bullshit. Besides you know exactly why we’re in here.”

Even though it’s not a question, she nods. It’s as if she’s already fallen into the heat and intensity of the moment.

A switch basically flicks in her as she waits, ready to comply to whatever is about to happen. She knows whatever you’re about to do is going to be worth it.

You run your thumb along her bottom lip and she sucks it into her mouth without needing instruction. Letting it go with a pop, a small string of spit hooking around her bottom lip, that she licks away.

Her tongue leaves her lips looking even more glossy, accentuating how plump and kiss swollen they are. This just makes you kiss her again.

A low moan vibrates through it as your hand tangles in her hair and tugs. You trail hot open mouth kisses across her collarbone, leaving marks behind that will for sure be visible by the time you return to the party.

“You must feel pretty proud of the show you put on out there huh?” 

She moans again as you speak against her neck, voice low and rough with arousal. 

When you pull back you find her green eyes blown,“ did you enjoy dancing with Carol like that?” You circle her body like she’s your prey, stopping behind her to speak in her ear,“ grinding into her, letting her touch you the way that she did?” 

Emphasizing your point, you mimic their past actions: pushing your hips into Natasha so that your strap rubs against her ass and running your hands down her waist.

Natasha breathes heavily and rests her head back against your shoulder,“ it worked didn’t it?” She bites your ear, running her tongue across it as she pulls away.

“That’s not what I asked you. I want to know if you enjoyed it?” 

She has two options here. Tell you ‘no’ and let this continue exactly how it usually would. Or lie and tell you ‘yes’, eliciting you to punish her and this continues roughly.

“Yes.” She whispers.

Jaw clenching, your hand trails up her back, and you push her down. The red head hisses at the feeling of the cold wood pressed against the tops of her breasts.

Your fingers leave a burning trail up her thighs to the bottom of her dress and you hike it up to bunch at her stomach.

When your hand rubs soft circles on her ass she knows what’s coming. The anticipation of it sends another wave of arousal into her stomach and pooling between her legs.

The first smack is painfully delicious, making her hiss and moan through the number one, not forgetting to count along even in her sex daze.

The force of your smacks and the burn on her ass eventually has her jolting against the mahogany desk and she knows her panties are beyond ruined.

After the tenth smack you stop, once again rubbing the abused cheek soothingly. It’s a familiar tingly painful sensation but she loves it.

She’s not fully recovered from your previous actions when she feels your fingers sliding through her folds, collecting her arousal and ghosting over her clit.

“Y/n please.”

A dark chuckle falls from your lips that’s equally intimidating as it is sexy,“ begging so soon? Where’d all that courage from early go?”

You tease her entrance with your fingers as you speak, just barely slipping one inside her.

Being so riled up has her cursing already, a near silent “fuck” falling from her lips at your ministrations.

“I find it amusing that you’re begging me now when just minutes ago you were practically letting Carol fuck you on the dance floor.”

She whimpers at both your words and the way you roughly remove your fingers from her. Your finger hadn’t filled her by any means but the loss of your touch is enough to make tears spring in her eyes.

Turning her head, she looks back at you,“ I don’t want Carol. I don’t want anyone but you. Please.”

You decide that she’s been teased enough, and you know she has no feelings towards Carol it was all to get a rise out of you.

It’s beyond relieving to her to hear the belt of your pants clatter against the floor. You pull her underwear off of her, the fabric slightly agitating her abused ass.

“Tell me something Tasha, do you think you deserve to be fucked?”

She’s nodding before the questions is even asked.

Amused, you run the tip of the strap against her folds, collecting her dripping arousal on it, before easing it into her.

The rigged dildo fills her and has her gripping the desk already.

You start with a slow teasing pace, hand just barely gripping her hip as you move into her.

Until she starts to moan louder, breathing harshly as she says,“ harder daddy, please.”

Her words make you still, purely because you have to process the sound of that word leaving her mouth. She speaks it with such innocence despite your current actions.

Only for it to be spoken appropriately dirtier as you begin to pound into the woman.

Her body bounces every time your hips connect, her arousal coats not only her own thighs but also yours. She’s cursing, begging, and calling you ‘daddy’ in an attempt to make you literally ruin her.

But that’s practically guaranteed when she cums without your permission.

If she’s being honest she wouldn’t have been able to stop it anyway. You’d managed to hit her most sensitive spot repeatedly and there was no holding back the orgasm that forced from her.

Since she’s decided to disregard your rules, you work harder and faster to pull another one from her seconds later. But you know she can do better than that.

And she does, cumming a third time with a single thrust. Her legs quiver and her arms grow weak.

“Fuck, Y/n, I can’t-”

“Just one more pretty girl. You can do that for daddy can’t you?”

Wanting nothing more than to please you, she slides a hand underneath her body and circles her clit. Your ministrations plus hers makes her cum a forth time.

She literally screams, a Russian curse mixed in, as she collapses against the desk.

You just barely move inside her, allowing her to come down from the highest of highs. A hand running over her thigh in time with your slow rocks.

When her thighs settle and her body stops heaving with each breath, you pull out of her. A whimper spills from her lips with her last ‘fuck’.

Helping her sit up, you turn her around to face you. Gentle fingers comb red hair out of her face and wipe away the tear stains.

“I love you.” You smile at her.

Of course she returns it, no matter how outdone she is,“ I love you too.”

After you’ve eased her underwear back into place and fixed her dress, you fix yourself. Ideally you’d clean yourselves up but that’s not an option at the moment and you’re slightly pleased with the idea of her being reminded of this moment every time her slick thighs rub together.

“Just a reminder, I can handle a lot of things, but I don’t tolerate people touching my girl.” The grip you assume on the back of her neck is equally as loving as it is a warning,“ try that again and you won’t be walking for a week.”

She nods, teeth biting into her bottom lip.

When the two of you return to the party, marks blooming on Natasha’s skin aa she clings to your arm, it’s clear to everyone what just went down. But it’s not spoken on.

******

[santigarcia]

piryc beskar buy’ce

a din djarin x reader fic

rating: m for smut; mentions of squirting; masturbation

word count: 2k

summary: The Mandalorian’s heat seeking signature’s in his helmet have malfunctioned, and he can see that you ache for him.

a/n: look idk if his heat seeking vision in his helmet works like this but we’re gonna roll with it! and the title translation will be at the end of the fic cuz it’s a spoiler ;) 

You didn’t exactly plan it this way, to become a stowaway. The Razor Crest was the first ship you saw with the hatch doors open. You’d find out later the Mandalorian let you on his ship – you didn’t sneak onto it. You did your best to hide from him, and you jumped when he ‘found’ you. It was not the hunter’s intention to startle you, but his cold Beskar exterior did the job for him.

He didn’t have to ask to discover you’re running away; he knows it when he sees it. You don’t have a bounty puck on you, and the way you treat the child lets him know he can trust you. You’ve given him no reason to doubt you, nor will you ever. He even offers to pay you for taking care of the child; but as long as you have a place to stay and food – you don’t need credits.

So that’s how you became a part of his life.

It was interesting to learn about the Mandalorian and how he operates.

He’s often times quiet, but you know from the way he speaks and when he speaks – that he has heart. Why else would he have taken in this small child? It was for no benefit of his own. In fact, it was of great cost to him.

You respect his way of life. You understand you’ll never see his face.

You saw a fraction of the back of his head once, only enough to see the tips of his brown hair. That’s the only detail you’d get. It made your heart skip a beat; you don’t want him to know you saw.

It didn’t bother you that you’d never see his face.

At first.

Your relationship with him in the beginning was purely professional and he was kind to you. For which you’d always be grateful. You called him ‘Mando’ and it was simple.

You’d watch him with the child or do something small and sweet and it made your heart ache a little. Who is this man?

Mando would startle you on accident – he’s always so quiet. And he’d offer an apology for scaring you. That always tugged at your heart that he apologized.

Then one day he tells you his name. Din Djarin.

Something changes that day in you both. That’s the day you ache to put a face to the name. And that’s the day when he walks up behind you and you jump – he actually laughs. There’s amusement in his voice.

Amusement.

Where there’s amusement, that means a smile.

You never thought much about how he felt about you, but now you think maybe he sees you as a friend. Something about this brings joy to your heart, and more longing you don’t know where to put.

You wonder if you’ll ever know what’s going on behind that visor – you only ever see your own face reflected. How does he see you in there?

Life with Din isn’t always easy, tonight is no exception.

He’s bringing in a dangerous bounty.

“Keep the kid safe,” he told you before he turns and stalks down the ramp of his ship, ready for the hunt. His cloak brushed against your leg as he left, and you shivered. There’s something unspoken, a need to reach out and touch him. But there’s no skin to touch. He’s closed off from you physically, and emotionally. You suppose his name is all you’ll get, but you’ll take it.

It doesn’t occur to you that this bounty is actually dangerous – Din always tells you to keep the kid safe. But when he returns to the Crest with something very angry with claws in a bag – you lock yourself into one of the compartments with the child in your lap. You wait for the hiss of the carbonite before you come out.

Din is panting heavily and tapping against his helmet, whatever it was he was wrestling must have hit him on the head.

You put the child in his pram, and he starts to doze off from all the excitement.

“Are you alright?” you ask, and he looks at you, really looks. He cocks his head to the side and your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. His gaze pierces through you and it eats you up inside that you don’t know what he sees, or even what his eyes look like.

His helmet was slightly damaged – and he can see right through you. Literally. His heat tracking sequence is turned on. He can see the warmth in your face, hear your heart pounding in your chest. He feels as if he shouldn’t look at you like this, and he turns his head away. But in the brief moment, his eyes catch a glimpse of warmth pooling in between your legs.

He’s no stranger to an aroused woman, but it still catches him off guard for a moment. Has he been this blind? Have you wanted him all this time and he not seen?

Testing the waters, he takes a step forward. Your heart only pounds faster, and there is no mistaking the heat at your core.

Something inside tells you that he knows that he can sense you desire for him. You don’t know whether to be embarrassed or aroused all the more. So, when he takes a step forward, you stand your ground.

He raises his gloved hand – reaching for you. You stand still, unsure of what he’s doing. He places his hand over your heart, and gently backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You’re trapped, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Maybe it’s the thrill from capturing a dangerous bounty, the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Seeing your obvious arousal has him feeling a heat he’s not felt in some time. He’s quick to close the pram, giving the two of you some privacy from those big eyes.

“Your heart,” he says, feeling the pounding under his palm and hearing the thrum bounce around in his helmet. “Do you want this?” he asks, just to be sure. As if he can’t see the heat sensors picking up your need.

You nod and whisper a ‘yes.’

You’re not entirely sure how sex with someone who can’t take off their helmet is going to work but you’re not asking any questions.

A sturdy thigh makes its way in between your legs and you shudder violently at the chill from the steel under your hot flesh. You want your clothing off so you can feel as much of him as possible. You’ve never really touched him before, maybe only in passing if you clumsily bump into him. But not like this.

Not when his thigh is purposefully spreading your legs apart.

You reach for him, your hand landing on his forearm. His hand is still on your heart, still pressing you to the wall. It’s not rough, it’s as if he’s just enjoying the feeling of another’s heart beating quickly for him.

He pulls back then, suddenly and you gasp at the loss. He undresses you then, slowly. It’s more intimate that you anticipated, you’re not going to see him naked, so he draws this out for the both of you.

When you’re fully exposed to him, you somehow feel barer than you already are. He’s covered from head to toe, and there you are without a stitch on you. Which is why his next move makes your heart ache with tenderness.

He offers you his hand, he simply holds his hand out to you. Somehow you understand his meaning, and you slowly pull off his glove. You drop the garment to the floor, and you see his bare hand. His knuckles are scarred. His hands beaten and showing the life he’s lived. His hand is relaxed, and you take it in both of your hands, feeling the warmth and heat of his skin. It sends a thrill down your spin; this is what you’ve been waiting for.

You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles, which surprises him. He gently pulls himself from your grasp to tenderly brush his finger down your cheek.

His other glove comes off and you’re quick to put his hands on you.

A warm hand cups your breast, and the other rests on your chest – just under your throat. His thumb rubs along your collarbone. It’s just as meaningful to him to touch skin as it is to you.

You let his hands explore your skin. There’s an eagerness to it, laced with a heat and desire. You can’t see his face but the way his fingers dig into your flesh tells you that he wants you back.

His thumb swipes along your breast, slowly. Just touching your skin. His head cocks when you cry out from your nipple being so teased. His other hand is on your hip, fingers dancing along – his fingertips slow in the movements. It’s as if he wants to memorize the way you feel.

He wishes to see you without this heat tracking – the images in his helmet are blended. He can see your skin, but there’s an unnatural red over your body showing him the heat you’re giving off.

The heat is building, so he takes this opportunity to guide you to his bed. He lays you down – your legs hang off the edge of his makeshift cot. He kneels then in front of you and grabs a hold of your leg to put it over his shoulder. He does the same with your other, his cold Beskar under your bent knees.

Much like his thumb had brushed over your nipple, he brushes his thumb over your clit. It’s one slow stroke, but it has you gasping harshly from your lungs. He repeats the stroke, and you cry out. If you could see him, there’d be a smug smile on his face.

Slick has gathered at your opening, and experimentally he dips a finger inside. When you moan, he takes this as his cue to continue. His thumb is pressing into your clit, he can hear your heartbeat pounding and he can feel it under his thumb.

A second finger joins the first while his thumb strokes back and forth. He’s in no hurry. He gets you off once, then twice this way. Letting it build slowly, then he increases his pressure and speed. He says nothing while you reach your high and cry out for him, but you can tell he’s pleased.

“One more?” his voice rasps through his modulator. Tears are in your eyes from such intense, sweet pleasure and you nod. You’re not above begging, and you would if he were going to stop here.

His fingers curl and thumb is toying with you. You look up to see his helmet there between your legs. His vision is clouded with you spread out in front of him, red hot pleasure, and your heart rings through his helmet. He curls and curls his fingers again and again until you feel that sweet release approaching.

You feel your stomach tighten, and a sensation you’ve never felt before begins to grow. It builds and it builds, and you groan – throwing your head back. You’ve moved your leg to press your foot against his shoulder while his fingers move, you press hard with your leg, but he’s ever steady. His strokes don’t stop, and you scream when you find your release. You whine as you come down and you can’t breathe it feels so good. Your vision is clouded now with red hot pleasure. It burns.

You lean up once you can breathe to see his helmet is covered in your essence, you gushed all over him. His fingers still inside you are coated with your slick. He’s still, unmoving. It’s a sight to behold. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. To see your wetness dripping from the Beskar helmet.  Then you hear him let out a soft grunt. You look to see him with his free hand wrapped around himself. You don’t know when he pulled himself free of his pants, but he’s nearing his end. Your release set him off and he’s coming on his own hand in mere seconds. He pulls his fingers from your heat, and you see his both his hands are covered in cum.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, though you know he’s not angry.

“Don’t be,” he rasps, then clears his throat. “That was-“

“That’s never happened to me before.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles, there’s that amusement again. “We’ll have to see if we can get you to again.”

Your eyes widen at his simple and sudden remark. He’s completely nonchalant as if he didn’t just say something that made your heat clench again. He slides your leg off his shoulder, some sticky left on his hands gets on your leg – adding yet another strange thrill.

You get an eyeful of him just before he tucks himself back into his pants.

“If you want to use the refresher,” he points, bringing your attention back to his ‘face’ instead of his length. Your face heats realizing he saw you, and again when you see your arousal is still stuck to his helmet.

You clean up in the refresher while he cleans off his helmet and fixes the heat sensors. He won’t need those anymore to know if you want him.

You wish you could have seen the look of surprise on his face when you came. His shocked expression hidden under the safety of his helmet. You can’t get it out of your mind as you clean yourself off in the refresher, the way he sat – stunned. The grunts that escaped his lips as he stroked himself. How casual he spoke about the ‘next time.’

The need to see his face grows stronger, but how well his hands took you apart tonight is more than enough to keep you satisfied – there’s proof of it. And The Mandalorian is wiping it off his helmet.

xx

piryc beskar buy’ce = wet beskar helmet 

xx

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[witlessficcer]

Intruder Alert

A/N: This fic is based on an ask by@multi-muse-transect. The ask was for a Peggy/Nat AU in which Natasha is taken in by Wong after he defeats Drykov. While she is studying as his apprentice, Nat sees Peggy working out. I have not seen The Black Widow. I hope this somewhat meets the request. Enjoy.

Natasha Romanoff still burned with the imprint of her former training. Her Master, Drykov was a viscous taskmaster and one whom distributed brutal punishment on those who did not meet his impossible standards. Nat did not fail, but she saw plenty who did, plenty who disappeared and were never seen or spoken of again. When Wong came to Red Room, many of the girls scattered, taking the opportunity to escape, if they had the nerve. Natasha watched. She watched as the General threw everything he had at Wong. But, the peaceful looking Asian was not an ordinary man. By some power that Natasha did not understand, Wong defeated Drykov.

When the battle was over, such as it was, the man looked at her intently. She returned his scrutiny with curiosity of her own. He approached her with open hands and smile with which the young assassin could find no fault. She was looking. Hard.

“Do you want to leave this place?” he asked, like he was order lunch. “I do not think there is anything left here for you.”

“I'm supposed to follow a strange man though a glowing golden portal and hope it all turns out well for me?” Natasha answered, coldly.

“Better than a Russian Gulag or being hunted like a dog for the sake of deniability,” the Asian answered, softly, but directly.

“If we get along,” the redhead offered. “And, I'm not saying we will. I want you to teach me what you were doing. The golden patterns were...beautiful. The power in them is obviously strong.”

“It is possible that this could be done. If we get along. As you know, students get the grunt work. Are you prepared to keep working? I promise that learning form me will be nothing like this place.”

“Let's go,” Natasha said, ready to leave with the clothes on her back. “There is nothing here for me.

She watched as the portly man seemed to spin a web of light, which opened into a larger circle and showed an empty alley on the other side. Without a glance toward her, he walked through.

She stood still; considering he empty alley, the oddly content man, and potential to learning a power beyond her understanding.

“Are you coming?” he asked from the other side of the portal. His hands clasped behind his back. “The window will close momentarily.”

“Who are you?” Natasha asked, her heart rate rising.

“My name is Wong.”

“Who are you, really?” she pressed. “You will find out soon enough. JUMP! NOW!

Natasha jumped as the portal closed around her.

*****

The house in New York was old, but comfortable. Stylish, in a museum kind of way. Nat found its timeless, multicultural decorations relaxing. It was inviting in a way the Red Room complex was spartan and lifeless. Nat was also pleased that she and Wong had worked out a teacher-student relationship that was both challenging and rewarding. His positive reinforcement was a refreshing change from Drykov, but also an initial hurdle as Nat knew she was exhibiting the behavior of an abused child. It took some time for each of them to learn to trust each other. It was coming, slowly, but surely.

After three months of introductory lessons, Wong decided to give her something a little more complex. He handed her a small leather bound book with ornate decoration on the front and back cover. It could not have been more than 20 pages long. Opening the volume, she found child like illustrations and words in a language she could not read. “Study this for this afternoon. Talk to me about what you have discovered at dinner.

Nat was not one to retreat from a challenge. Sitting at table on in the library, she started to 'read'. The words meant nothing, but the pictures...

Two hours later, Nat was knocked from her reverie by the faint sound of grunting an exertion. It wasn't Wong, or anyone else she had met at the House. She could hear the unmistakable sound of fists pounding leather. Kicking too. Rising from her chair she was was surprised to see golden sparks dissipate about her. What the hell? Even the sparks couldn't keep her from following the sounds of someone beating the shit of a hanging bag. Following the exhilarating sounds lead her to a wide, carpeted stairwell leading down. Of course its coming from the gym, dummy.

Making her way down the stairs and through a longer than normal corridor, Nat pulled up short before entering Wong's work out room. Peering into the room, but remaining out of sight, Nat was amazed at what she saw. The person beating on the bag was a woman. A giant woman. She must have been...over six feet tall. Her shoulders, glistening with sweat, were broad and muscled. Her entire body was broad and muscled. In her boxing stance, Nat could see the definition in her calves, thighs, and abs. The skin tight exercise pants left little to the imagination. The woman had a magnificently tight set of glutes. It was a nice ass. Who was she fooling? Despite herself, Nat found her eyes glued to the mystery woman. For the time being she felt that observing would be the best course of action. She wished the woman would turn around so she could get a look at the rest of her, but the Amazon was positioned to only show her back.

“How long are you going to stand there and watch?” the brown haired woman asked.

For the second time in a few short minutes, Nat had been caught off guard. Lost in thought. It was unforgivable. Drykov would have beaten her and thrown her naked into a cell the size of broom closet. That was then, though. This was now. Now, was a beautiful, muscle bound woman calling her out for staring. Natasha turned on the ice.

“I was waiting to get a good look at our intruder,” she said, flatly.

“Well,” the other woman said, turning to face Natasha. “Am I good looking?"

The former Red Room assassin, trained in all manner of self control and deadly precision, blinked. Dark brown eyes, strong jaw, aquiline nose, full, luscious lips, and large breasts, that seemed to strain against her loose grey tank top.

“Passable,” Nat said, without emotion. You thought luscious lips and big boobs, you big liar!Natasha felt like she needed to leave. She wasn't thinking clearly. This woman was affecting her in a way that she couldn't control. At first sight, her training was gone and she was succumbing to baser instincts. She's a hot athlete who started flirting with you immediately.

“Better than I get from the guys on the construction crew,” the larger woman said. “I think they're scared and don't know what to do with someone who could take them in a fight.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Natasha said. “Can't be easy taking shit from guys like that.”

“They are harmless. Literally. None of the them could hurt me.”

“Nasty names can't be easy every day,” Natasha said, moving not so stealthily toward the chair where the woman's bag lay open and white towel hung over the edge. “Plus, I'm not sure sure such names are entirely accurate.”

“Changing your tune that soon?” the other woman challenged. “I didn't come here to to be hit on by little girls. I came to work out.”

“I am not a little girl and I am hardly hitting on you,” piqued by the boxer's audacity.

“That drool at the edge of your mouth says otherwise?” the intruder continued, brazenly.

“I don't drool,” Nat responded, harshly, her self control eroding further. “Who are you? I need a name to give the police.”

“I'm Peggy, and there's no need to call the police. They would come, find you unconscious, and I would be in the wind.”

This woman, Peggy, was instigating her. Why? Perhaps she thinks your cute too. Did she already know who Natasha was? Was she an associate of Wong's? Or, did she simply like pushing buttons?

“If that was a threat, it was lost on me,” Nat said, with confident cool. “I can take care of myself. I'm sure you've heard the phrase: the bigger they are, the harder they fall?”

The larger woman's brown eyes gleamed with mirth. Placing on gloved hand on her hip, she brought the other to her mouth in failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Did you really just say that?” Peggy said, rounding out her chuckle. “Trained assassins should be able to make better threats than that. Seriously.”

Another figurative right hook to Natasha's ego sent her reeling. “Do you need a towel? You're sweating?” That's right. Offer to wipe down her sweaty muscles while you try to recover from her owning you from the moment you saw her.

“Sure, Natasha,” Peggy said, taking the offered towel and beginning to wipe herself off. “Since you mentioned it, if I fell, which is unlikely, I would make every effort to fall on top of you so there would be no clear victor.”

Nat was sure she was hypnotized. She was a Red Room assassin and a Sorcerer's apprentice. Who did this Amazonian street thug think she was? This is getting old. You are not hypnotized. You are hot for her at first sight and just won't admit it.

“Who's Victor?” Nat said, emerging form her inner argument. “And, how do you know who I am?”

“Are you okay?” Peggy said, coming toward her. The taller woman, pulled her boxing gloves off and tossed them to the floor. She turned her hand knuckles out and reached toward the assassin's forehead. Nat blocked the strong forearm aside before the hand could touch her.

Raising her hands in surrender, Peggy said. “I'm not going to hurt you. I was trying to check your temperature. You seem out of sorts.”

“How would you know what sort I am?” Nat said, too harshly.

“You're sweating,” Peggy said. “Your face is flush. You offered me a towel. I didn't see that coming.”

“You're sweating!” Nat exclaimed, causing a small burst of golden sparks to shoot from her temples.

“Whoa,” Peggy said, shocked, as the sorcerer's assassin collapsed toward her.

Peggy caught the younger read head and scooped her up into her large arms.

“What has Wong gone and done this time,” Peggy said, as she walked Natasha up the stairs in search of her teacher.

[gureishi]

12 with Seven and a female MC, NSFW please ^^

Thank you for the wonderful request! And oh boy do I apologize if this wasn’t what you wanted. O_O My imagination was positively THRILLED by this prompt and this...is where it went.

I sincerely hope you DO enjoy this, because god knows I enjoyed writing about it. But seriously if you want a...tamer...NSFW Saeyoung story for this prompt, tell me and I’ll write that one too?? For real??

twelve: born to be together

Saeyoung X Reader; E (M/F sex, roleplaying, light dom/sub, assplay), words: 2941

If it wasn’t already abundantly clear (lol): smut warning, proceed with caution~ <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You stand in the walk-in closet, in a forest of brightly-colored and bedazzled fabrics. They’re not organized by any discernible method, but they’re all hung neatly, some in plastic dry-cleaning bags and others draped multiple times over their hangers so they don’t touch the floor. You run a hand down the line of costumes, feeling lace and fur and taffeta. There are some here that are familiar: a maid outfit you’ve seen numerous times and a fuzzy full-body cat suit you find particularly charming. There are others that you’re sure you’ve never seen before.

“Saeyoung?” you call, and he hums in response: he’s sprawled across the bed, playing a game on his phone. “Why haven’t I ever seen you wear most of these?”

He laughs. “There are literally hundreds of outfits in there, babe. You’ve lived here for what, three months? When was I gonna wear them all? You want me to do a fashion show for you?”

You perk up, lifting a sequined tutu to the light so you can see it shimmer. “Yes, please!”

“Just say the word, baaaby,” he sings, drawing out the syllables. He’s teasing, but you’re serious: there is not one thing in this huge, chaotic closet that wouldn’t suit him. You comb through the racks, pushing past a denim mini dress, a full-on space suit, and what looks like a…sexy penguin costume? Okay, maybe not that one.

Toward the back of the closet, in a corner (you’ve got to help him organize all this stuff, you think), there’s a floor-length zip-up bag garment bag. You squish it—there’s something very fluffy in there.

“Hey, what’s in the fancy bag?” you call over your shoulder. You hear a soft flop as he tosses his game aside and the ruffling of the covers as he leaps off the bed. He appears behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Ohhh, this one?” He sounds pleased; he nuzzles the back of your neck with his nose and you squirm, ticklish. “Unzip it and see,” he offers.

You do, and your mouth falls open: in the bag is what you can only describe as a literal princess gown. It’s ballet slipper pink, with layers and layers of chiffon trailing all the way to the ground. The bodice is fitted and embellished with thousands of tiny gemstones.

“What mission was this for?” you gasp, fingering the gauzy, frothy top layer of the skirt.

“Not a mission,” he murmurs into your neck. “Just wanted it.”

Saeyoung skims his hands down your sides, sliding them into both of the front pockets of your jeans.

“I don’t want to know what this cost, do I?” you ask. He cackles.

“You probably don’t.”

Hands in your pockets, he pulls you flush against his body. Maybe it’s the luxurious feeling of the skirt on your fingertips and maybe it’s the insistent way he’s pressing against you, but you have an idea—a revelation.

“I want you to wear it for me,” you say. You slip out of his grasp, spinning to face him—you watch his eyes widen and his cheeks flush as he takes in your serious expression.

“Ohhhh?” he lilts, cocking his head to the side. “So when you say you want me to wear it, you mean…?” He’s teasing you, his hands on your skin again, dancing over your hips, up your sides.

“I mean exactly what you think I mean,” you tell him, and you reach out and stroke his cheek with your fingertips, delighted to feel that, in spite of his posturing, his skin is so warm—he’s flustered, and he melts a little under your intense gaze, his eyes roaming over your body.

He pauses, and for a split second, in spite of his apparent eagerness, you think he might say no. But then he springs into action, grabbing the hanger off the rack, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, and sprinting out of the closet.

“Gimme twenty minutes—no, ten!” he calls to you, already disappearing around the corner, through the bedroom, into the en suite bathroom. You grin, patting your own flushed cheeks with both hands. This, you think, will be worth waiting for.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

In spite of his promises, it’s actually closer to thirty minutes before he emerges again. You lay on your stomach on the unmade bed, half-heartedly scrolling on your phone. The anticipation coils in your stomach. In spite of yourself, you keep glancing up at the closed bathroom door—picturing him there, half-dressed, penciling in his eyebrows with those nimble fingers of his. Knowing that he’s doing this for you—it makes you clench your thighs together, squirming against the bunched-up comforter. Come on, you think.

And just then, as if he’s heard your silent plea, he pushes the door open a crack—just enough for you to catch the tiniest glimpse of an ankle peeking out under perfectly-arranged layers of pink gauze.

“Baby,” he calls, his voice soft, and you sit up straight. “Are you ready for me?”

You’ve never been readier for anything.

“I’m waiting,” you tell him.

So he flings open the bathroom door, and for a moment even you—you, the one who looks at him all day and sleeps beside him every night—are floored. There is a stunningly, jaw-droopingly beautiful woman in your bedroom, long red hair trailing effortlessly over her bare shoulders, thin waist accented delightfully by the tight bodice, toned legs just barely visible through the layers and layers of translucent fabric. Her features are soft, her golden eyes gaze just slightly downward, and one hand rests on her chest, thin fingers hovering just above the dress’s glittering neckline.

“Hi,” Saeyoung murmurs coyly. You feel like your head is going to explode.

“Come here, princess,” you call, and it takes all your willpower to keep your voice level. He obliges you, stepping delicately over the rug, holding up his billowing skirt with one dainty hand. He perches on the edge of the bed, flips a lock of hair over his shoulder. The wig matches his natural hair color and cascades voluminously down his back. He’s perfectly in character: he keeps his eyes lowered and his cheeks are flushed a dusty pink.

“Like this?” he asks, and he leans back the tiniest bit, letting the light catch his semi-translucent skirt, highlighting the silhouette of his thighs through the glistening fabric.

“Just like that,” you whisper. It’s not the first time you’ve taken the lead, but it’s not the norm, either—being in charge feels frightening and exhilarating. “May I touch you, princess?”

He nods, and the flush on the tips of his ears is real, not makeup—and even through the countless layers of fabric that make up his skirt, it’s evident that he’s already starting to get excited.

You sit up on your knees behind him and run a hand over his bare shoulders, part the soft hair that covers his back, wrap them around the back of his neck. He shudders.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” you whisper in his ear, and you feel the way his shoulders quiver eagerly. You grip his neck just a little tighter.

“I’ll be good,” he murmurs sweetly, and it’s already almost too much for you. You squeeze your legs together, impatient to touch him, eager to see his perfect demeanor shattered.

One hand still on his neck, you snake your other arm around his waist, which is dramatically cinched by the tight bodice. You stroke up his torso, curious, and feel the curve of what are quiet obviously breasts straining against the ruched fabric, peeking out over the tauntingly low neckline.

“I like these,” you whisper, and he arches his back, leaning into your touch. He laughs a soft, bubbling laugh—and it’s an act, a character, but there is some of Saeyoung’s delightful giggle in it too. Your hand roams across his chest and you slip one finger into the impeccable cleavage he’s created (you’ll have to ask him how, later).

Then you slip your other hand from his throat and explore lower, lower, across his hip, his thigh. You dip your head and take the soft skin of his shoulder between your teeth, biting hard enough to leave a small, half-moon-shaped mark. He whimpers, and you move your hand down his thigh, pointedly avoiding the erection that you can now see very clearly through the layers of chiffon. You taunt him, nipping his neck again, sliding the skirt up so you can drag your fingernails across his leg. He’s trying so hard to stay still, but his hips give him away, rocking forward the tiniest bit, seeking relief against the silky fabric.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, princess?” you hiss against his skin—and it’s a tease, but it’s a genuine question, too. 

A moan tears from his throat, quiet yet desperate. He keeps his hands neatly folded in his lap but his eyes flutter shut and his hips wriggle as you pinch the skin of his thigh.

“P-please,” he whines, and he leans his head back, eyelids fluttering shut. “Please, I want you to…”

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he obeys, sits perfectly still on the edge of the bed, his skirt splayed out artfully around him. He makes a perfect picture, you think—head reclined, yearning evident in every tense muscle of his body.

You go to the bedside cabinet and pull out the things you need: the little pink bottle of lube and a toy—a thin, smooth dildo, light-colored and fairly unobtrusive. You slip it out of its harness, deciding to use it in your hand today—and you return to him, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. He’s opened his eyes and he’s taking you in, standing over him, the toy in your hand—his beautiful eyes are huge and desperate.

“On your hands and knees, honey,” you purr, and he complies eagerly, climbing gracefully onto the bed and arching his back for you. “Don’t tease me,” you say, and he trembles. The skirt billows out around him and you set down the toy so you can slip a hand under his dress, over his silky-smooth thighs (did he shave his legs?). You’re delighted to find that he’s not wearing anything under the gown.

You run your hand up his thigh; he’s sticking his ass in the air, practically begging for you, and you slap it, face breaking into a smile as he whimpers.

“How bad do you want me right now, beautiful?” you ask him, and he moans softly, his legs shaking.

“I need you,” he hisses, and he sounds a little less like a princess and a little more like Saeyoung. You suck your index finger, wetting it, and then you slip it up and under his skirt and inside him. He reacts immediately, thighs shaking as he struggles to hold himself up, gasping for air. You slide your finger a little bit deeper inside him and you can’t help but grind your hips against the edge of the bed as you do, hopelessly turned on by the noises he’s making. He adjusts, widening his hips for you, and you curl your finger inside him, gently increasing the pressure and watching him come apart before your eyes.

“I’m r-ready,” he pants, “please,” and you pull your finger out of him, warming the toy with both hands as you liberally smear it with lube.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” you tell him, and you can barely keep your voice from shaking. “I don’t want you to make a sound till I say so, princess.”

He quivers in anticipation but doesn’t say a word. Almost without thinking, you unbutton and unzip your jeans, slip one hand down, down, over your underwear. The need you feel is overwhelming.

With one finger pressed against your clit, over your underwear, you take the dildo in your other hand and slide it over his ass, down, and finally inside him. His legs shake uncontrollably and for a moment you think he’ll fall—but he doesn’t, he stays on his hands and knees, back bent for you, and though his pleasure is evident in the way he throws his head back, hair falling everywhere, he’s quiet—just like you asked him to be.

You gasp, impossibly aroused by the sight of him like this, the delicate skirt falling every which way. You wish you could see his face, the ruined look in his eyes, but you settle for the sight of his ass and thighs shaking, framed seductively by layers of pink gauze. You slide the dildo deeper inside him and he twitches, gasping. At the same time, you move your finger over your swollen clit, moaning softly as you give yourself the stimulation you’ve been craving.

He’s so good, so obedient, so quiet, trembling as you fuck him with the toy and fuck yourself with your finger. He pushes back against you and his arms give out; he bends forward, face pressed into the bed. Your own legs are shaking like they don’t want to hold you up anymore but both your hands are occupied, so you lean harder against the bed, hissing as you move your finger in tight circles against yourself and angle the toy upward, questing for his p spot.

You’re going to come, you think—you’re going to come so fast, from your own hand, as you watch your boyfriend clad in this extravagant gown falling to pieces before you.

“I want you to come with me,” you hiss, moving your finger quicker and more frantically against yourself, “and I want to hear you.”

He moans immediately as if he’s been fighting to hold it back all this time, rocking his hips back into the toy. You can tell he’s close and you are too, driven half-mad by the sight of him. You rub your faster, faster, and you slide the toy in and up, penetrating him deeper. He groans, and there is still some of the pretty, modest princess in his voice, because god this boy knows how to stay in character, but the unbidden desperation is there too. He’s on the edge, you can tell, and you feel the telltale sensation of your toes curling, your thighs clenching…

And you throw your head back, continuing the pressure with your finger as the pleasure crests, thrusting into him more roughly, begging him to come with you…

And he does come, from the toy alone, his cock untouched—yelping as he rocks forward, his face buried deep in the pile of blankets on the bed and his whole body shaking…

And you feel tears in your eyes as you let yourself be taken over by the sensations, overwhelmed by the pleasure gripping you…

And he’s moaning, high-pitched and beautiful, crying for you to keep going…

And stars burst beneath your eyelids and you can’t see, thrusting into him one more time, knowing you’re hitting just the right spot as he sobs out your name.

And it slows, slows, and he’s panting, and you catch your breath and slip your hand out of your pants, pulling out of him with a trembling hand. He’s still shaking too, a quivering, beautiful mess gauze and tulle.

“You okay, babe?” you gasp, crawling up onto the bed beside him. He turns his head and you catch your first glimpse of his face—deliciously wrecked, mascara under his eyes and bright pink spots on his cheeks. 

“I…I…wow,” he manages, finally sitting back on his heels. He’s in disarray, his hair in his eyes, his skirt sticking to his legs. “That was new,” he says quietly, his eyes shining as he tucks the long, fake hair behind his ears. “I never came like that before, just from…”

“I know.”

“The dress…” He laughs, pulling apart the unkempt layers of gaze.

“I guarantee I can figure it out,” you say, giggling, collapsing onto the pile of pillows. “I’ll just google ‘how to get cum out of ball gown.’”

“Oh god.” He grimaces, twisting and falling onto his back beside you. The skirt still manages to billow out splendidly around his legs. “Maybe…don’t google that.”

You turn and kiss him on the lips, sighing contentedly as he responds with enthusiasm, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Thanks for doing that for me,” you say. “That was…a fantasy I didn’t know I had, till today."

He grins against your lips.

“Oh, I knew I had that fantasy,” he says, skating his hand up your leg, around your waist. “But you…you…”

“Hmmmm?” You curl into him, finding that the fake breasts make a surprisingly comfortable pillow.

“I never thought I’d be loved the way you love me,” he says, kissing your cheek, your eyebrow, your forehead. “I didn’t think a person like you existed.”

“Course I do,” you tell him, flipping the skirt over his hip so you can rest your hand against his thigh. His skin really is amazingly soft. “We were always going to find each other.”

“Next time,” he says, melting into your touch, kissing your earlobe. “Dress up as a sexy prince for me, babe?”

You tuck his wig behind his ear and kiss his beautiful, smudged, wrecked, perfect face. “Anything for you, princess.” 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06​ @nad-zeta @hunterelys

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (5/6)

Desperate people, pushed by suppressed affection for each other, find some comfort. I’d say this is a chapter of nothing but NSFW smut, but . . . well.

Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina (by @clairjohnson)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

@turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

She felt her chest tighten at his uncharacteristic compliment, and when his firm hand started to pull her back down towards him, she didn’t resist. He met her halfway this time and their lips crashed together in complete contrast from the first soft kiss. In a smooth, but hasty movement, Maria slipped out of her heels and tucked her feet up on the bed. The hand that had been fussing with his shirt was now flat on his chest, while the other braced her over his body. 

When their tongues met Maria momentarily tensed for whatever taste would follow - and was surprised. It wasn’t foul, just earthy. With a not unexpected mix of hard liquor and cigarettes. The tension in her shoulders relaxed and she pressed into him further, her hand slowly traveling up his shirt to the first button.

That she didn't fight him off but actually shifted to be closer and put more weight on him--pathetically, a tiny moan escaped his throat as the kiss deepened. 

For a moment he was immobilized by the sheer surprise of this turn of events. The hand that had brushed her shoulder found a resting place and he moved his thumb over the soft skin of her collarbone. His other hand was the problem. Although he felt her fingers walking a trail along the buttoned placket of his shirt, and although his first instinct was to reach around her and grab at her ass or hem of her skirt, he didn't. This wasn't a hasty lay in a back alley of the Netherworld. This wasn't one of the girls over at Dante's, who'd squeal at being man-handled. 

Beetlejuice fought his base desires and simply put his hand on back, below her shoulder blade, and slipped it along her dress to the swell of her hip. The fabric lay smoothly, like a second skin, and his hand felt large and coarse against it. 

He tried not to be too demanding with his mouth, but half-failed that endeavor; with no reason to breathe, it was easy to go a little harder and a little longer. When her tongue nudged passed his lips he immediately lapped at it, lifting his head to push into her.

If this was a drunken dream, he didn't want to wake up.

When the hand not placed on her shoulder reached past her view, Maria assumed it was going for her rear, or leg, or any other body part he could grip onto. When instead he gently placed it on her back and caressed down to her hip, she hummed appreciatively into his mouth. Though she never planned on being with Beej in this way, she’d thought about it. Everyone was allowed their ill advised fantasies - but none of them were like this. How delicately he was handling her, save for the hungry kissing, wasn’t something she thought he was capable of. Maybe it was because he was drunk . . . 

His tongue pressing deeper into her mouth interrupted her train of thought, and she moved her focus back to the buttons on his shirt. Without leaving his lips she adjusted herself on top of him, her slim stomach now pressed against his round one. She slid her knee, slowly, between his legs then sat up, tugging his partially undone shirt to say she wanted him to sit up, too. 

“Get my dress?” She breathed, indicating to the zipper on her back. Maria’s mouth still hovered against his as she spoke, her fingers working the last few buttons on his shirt.

Were there any sweeter words to be spoken than, "Get my dress?" Maybe, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't remember ever hearing any. 

Maria's tug pulled him into a seated position; her straddling one thigh made it a bit awkward but there was absolutely no way he was going to ask her to move off him. He had an underlying fear that if bodily contact was broken, she'd come to some kind of sense and bolt.

Besides, the slight weight on his leg, while not warm--no one in the Netherworld was warm--was welcome in a moderately intimate way. 

More intimate was her fingers freeing him of his shirt, and her lips still brushing his. To return the favor, Beetlejuice found the tiny zipper pull at the back of her dress. Topside, he'd just fling her garment away. Here, he gave it a gentle tug. The faint sound it made as it parted was a sigh of promise.

Maria arched into his chest as he pulled the zipper down. When his hand reached the small of her back the red fabric slid off and pooled around her hips. 

Her delicate hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders then moved to the hair covering his chest. Red nails raked down his skin without leaving marks, traveling until they met his waistband.

“Get the rest - take off the rest.” 

Her plea was mumbled against his lips and she lifted her hips from the mattress to let the dress fall the rest of the way. The beauty queen’s fingers worked the button of his pants with no success, and she broke the kiss momentarily to focus on it - her brows furrowing as she peered down.

Beetlejuice gaped as Maria's dress fell away from her torso. Any lacy undergarment was nice, but hers was more than he expected, although he wasn't in the least bit surprised it was beautiful and matching. He'd have put money down that they'd be red, and would've lost that bet when the fine black lace came into view. 

"Cariño--" he breathed out, then realized he'd frozen, staring, even as she had made a simple request and was doing her damnedest to work open his trousers. 

Upper arms slightly hobbled by the shirt pushed over his shoulders, he grabbed her hand and brought it up to his mouth. He kissed her fingertips and smirked. 

"Don't go breaking one of those nails," he admonished lightly, and dropped his own hands to his fly. 

Even with her pressed against him he made short work of the button and zipper, and shucked his pants as quickly as possible, not caring if they turned inside out in his haste. They did, of course, like an idiot; and instead of taking the time to properly extract his legs he got impatient, clicked his fingers once, and the whole mess was on the floor. He may not have all the power here as he did up top, but at least that was handy. 

"Sorry my underwear isn't as fancy as yours– wasn't quite expecting company– " he muttered half under his breath, cutting himself off as he found her mouth again.

Her breath hitched when he pulled her hands away and kissed her fingers, the act so shockingly tender all she could do was watch. It didn't last, though, and he dropped her hands to focus on his button. Beej made quick work of his pants, muttered out a self-deprecating joke, and kissed her. Maria kissed him back and smiled against his lips. It was good to hear him joking - it was one of the things she liked about him most. 

Now mostly bare, Maria took the time to run her hands over his shoulders and arms, delighting in the tense muscles that twitched under her touch. Their kissing had slowed but deepened, and she moaned indulgently into his mouth every time his teeth caught her tongue or lip. She was past the point of turning back now, not that she wanted to, and broke the kiss to lay back on his bed. Slowly, she lifted her hips off the mattress and slipped her underwear down her legs, tossing them to the end of the bed with her foot. The lace bra followed soon after and she was left completely naked. Her large brown eyes flicked up to his and she arched her back in invitation. 

Every fuck she'd ever imagined with him was quick and dirty –  bent over a desk or pressed to a wall. The delicate way he touched her? The slow, passionate kissing? Letting her take the lead? It was so far off how she'd pictured him that it barely seemed real. Real or not, she wanted him to touch her again.

He'd never admit it--even in his most drunken state or in his deepest despair he had a reputation to uphold--but any beautiful woman agreeing to be with him was almost incomprehensible. And for Maria, a renowned, official beauty queen, to kiss him first, kiss him back, undress him and then undress herself . . . something didn't add up in his fuzzy brain, but it was best to keep a gift horse's mouth shut. 

At the sight before him, a rose made prettier by the literal dirt around her, he swallowed and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. She was a work of art: delicate frame, perfect breasts, slim waist, long legs even without heels--his eyes raked her, and like a slavering beast he knew he was, he had a difficult time tearing his gaze away from the junction between her legs. 

The subtle movement of arching her back only inflamed him more, and as loose as his briefs were, they were suddenly too tight over his aching cock. 

With less grace than her, he ditched his underwear too. She still waited with anticipation--he hoped--so he crawled up the bed, pressing a kiss to one knee, then the other, then to her inner thigh just above it, knocking her legs open. He glanced up the flat plane of her stomach to make sure she was okay with that, but he wasn't sure what he'd do if she wasn't.

The sight of him bare sent a shiver through her. He wasn't a model by any means, but he was masculine, with a broad chest and strong arms - and even though he was covered in a layer of dirt and moss - his face was always disarmingly handsome. The package he was carrying between his legs was disarming as well, arched at attention and thick. Maria's focus quickly moved to her legs when he kissed them, his soft lips marking a trail up her thigh. The brush of his stubble against her sensitive skin coaxed out a light gasp. 

When he glanced up at her, as if waiting for permission, she almost scoffed. The man who grabs at any women in arms distance checking to see if he can go further with the naked lady in his bed? He was...very drunk. But she wanted him - so she stomped down whatever rational voice told her to slow down, that he never was this kind sober. That this was a mistake. Maria swallowed hard and opened her legs wider - a soft whine of want escaping her parted lips. She reached a delicate hand up and cupped her own breast, kneading it gently as she peered down at him, her other hands balled up in his sheets.

Non-verbal permission was still permission. The slight relaxation of her legs allowing them to fall open, her cupping her tit as if to showcase how incredibly perfect it was--Beetlejuice smirked, licked his teeth, and made his way up her inner thigh with kisses that probably had a little too much bite to them. 

He had to remember this was Maria, not some random lay. 

At the apex of her legs, he paused for half a second, waiting just in case she came to her senses to haul off and punch him away from her--not that that's ever happened before, nosiree, just a hypothetical scenario that had no basis in his past--then without a word, he dropped his face at the altar of her pussy and closed his entire mouth over her to worship.

The smirk, and subsequent nipping of her legs, sent a spike of arousal straight between her thighs. Maria watched with pointed interest while he hovered over her, for just a moment, before sealing his mouth over her pussy. The instant, overwhelming sensation caused her to buck her hips up, but his strong hold kept her in place. 

“Oh my g-oh fuck.” Her words were gasped out, and the hand that had been gripping the sheets tangled itself in his hair. Her other hand continued to work her breast, harder now, with her fingers inching up to press against the sensitive nipple. 

“Don’t stop - please. It’s good, so good.” The words sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. All her focus was on keeping this man and his tongue between her legs. As she continued to murmur out encouragement, her thighs closed lightly around his head.

Her legs compressing the sides of his head and her hand deep in his hair only spurred him to go harder. Wrapping his arms under her thighs to keep her tight to him, he lapped the flavor of her as if he couldn't get enough. His tongue found the nub of her clit and teased it with quick flicks before he captured it between his lips to give it a little extra sucking pressure; before she could shove him away from overstimulation he delved further and slipped his tongue into her pussy in a poor substitution for the body part that was trapped achingly against the mattress at the moment. 

Her shoving him away was a low grade fear in the bottom of his mind, because a tiny but persistent voice kept informing him that this is a pity lay, or this is just a drunken dream, or this is a prime example of you making a fool of yourself, because she is thinking of someone else while you're between her legs. So he worked till his jaw was numb, relishing the sounds and sweet words Maria said aloud as if they truly were for him.

The way he was using his tongue had her seeing stars. Not that she should be surprised he was good at this, with a libido like his and 600 years, Maria was sure he’d been around the block (probably several times). A talented flick to her sensitive bundle of nerves had her letting out an embarrassing high pitched moan. Peering down her body at him Maria had the sudden urge to return the favor. 

“Stop, hold on,” she urged, giving his hair a small yank in the process. 

When Beej sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, she could see a flicker of concern in his face. She didn’t wait for him to speak and closed her mouth over his in a deep kiss. Her lips moved from his mouth to his chin, briefly ghosted near the start of his neck, then her hand dropped from his shoulder to wrap slender fingers around his cock. 

Maria brought her lips back to his and gave him a few leisurely strokes before pushing him back onto the bed. Her eyes stayed on him while she leaned over and dropped her mouth to his cock, giving it a light lick up the center. Slowly, Maria brought the entirety of him into her mouth and wrapped her (now smudged) red lips around the base.

She pushed against him and told him to stop, and that was that. Beetlejuice pulled away, wiping his mouth, willing himself to commit the taste of her to memory. She could find her own way out; he was going to lay here and jerk off to the thought of her. 

He didn't know if there were going to be tears as he did it, but decided he'd blame any on the booze. 

But before he could turn away so he didn't have to see her leave, she kissed him. Kissed him. The taste of her lipstick was still intoxicating. Before he'd had enough, she'd trailed to his jaw, where he tipped his head back--then jumped as her cool fingers took his cock. 

The soft dry friction made him moan--one of which she swallowed in another kiss--then like he was a rag doll he let her push him back. He lifted his head to find her watching him with dark eyes, then her tongue and mouth were on him and he sucked in a breath. Her red lips around his cock, her hair framing her face and tickling his thighs, her looking up to catch his eyes--Beetlejuice slipped a hand into her hair and groaned, unable to stop himself from rocking his pelvis up into the inviting wet of her mouth.

The first roll of his hips caught her off guard. When he rocked up a second time she relaxed her jaw and let him slide down her throat, the tip of her nose pressing against his mess of curls. Maria kept a steady pace, her head bobbing rhythmically save for the occasional moan around his cock. It was so easy to pretend he was warm like this, her lower body snug in his sheets and her arms pressed lightly against his stomach. 

When his thrusts started to become more insistent she pulled off - leaving a barely noticeable ring of scarlet lipstick at the base of his cock. Maria took him in her hand again and gave him a few long, slow licks, peering up at him in the process. There was something so perversely satisfying watching him come apart under her - twitching at her touch, at her lips, like he’d never had someone do this before. Which was silly, she knew, but it stirred something in her to imagine. She pressed a soft kiss to the head of his dick and flicked her eyes up to catch his, waiting to see if he wanted more.

The suction, the licks, the vibration from her moans, the light scratch of her nails against his stomach--Beetlejuice arched against her, his hips finding rhythm in time with her movements. She drew groans and gasps from him. 

When she released him it took a second for his brain to catch up, but before he could be too disappointed at the loss of stimulation her hand closed around him and her tongue went back to teasing. 

Lifting his head off the dusty mattress he looked down just as she looked up. The sight of her lips, her bright lipstick slightly smudged, pursed to kiss his cock seared into his memory. His eyes met hers. A faint lift of her brow, like an invitation, like a dare, made him lift his upper lip in a half smirk. 

In an explosion of movement, he sat up and grabbed her. She was light, and changing her position wasn't difficult, especially when she wasn't expecting it. Flipping her back to the mattress, ignoring her squeak of surprise, Beetlejuice slipped his hands under her knees and rotated her till he was situated almost properly between her legs. 

"No more teasing," he growled, and pushed forward.

Maria was on her back in a flash. It was exhilarating to be flipped so easily, so hungrily, and she let out a gasp of surprise. Beej wasted no time putting her exactly where he wanted her. She gazed up at him with eager anticipation when he quickly settled his significantly larger bulk between her legs. 

The words growled against her ear sent a wave of heat between her thighs, a sensation that was completely overshadowed when he pressed into her. Her mouth fell open in a silent moan. The foreplay had left them both soaked, and he penetrated her in a single thrust. The initial stretch was divine, and she dug her nails into his back in response.

Before he had a chance to start a rhythm she wrapped her legs around his lower back, holding him in place pressed against her. She liked being this close. Liked how she felt under the large cage of his body. Maria tipped her head up from the mattress and caught his mouth, her tongue pressing past his lips to meet his own. When he kissed her back, when she felt completely consumed, she let her legs fall to the sides.

The bite of her nails into his skin made him hiss in sharp response to the mild pain, but it barely muted the pure pleasure that radiated from this initial push. 

That she didn't continue to claw his back but instead keep him tightly to her and kiss him was a surprise. But as her mouth, still tasting of lipstick--he never knew red was a flavor--found his, as her tongue dipped intimately passed his teeth, as her thighs squeezed him but then relaxed, he gave into the overwhelming urge to rut into her. He groaned deep in his throat at the sweet wet friction created between them. 

Even as white hot bliss began shorting out higher brain function, that tiny voice in the back of his mind, the one that never quite took a rest, still made noises that this was simply out of pity, that there was nothing, meant nothing-- 

Beetlejuice lifted his lip in a half snarl and buried his face in Maria's hair, trying to shake loose that voice and simply focus on the pleasure he hoped was shared.

Maria broke the kiss and let out a choked gasp when he started to thrust. With each snap of his hips she moaned, her delicate hands gripping his shoulders for support. When Maria angled her hips off the bed, just slightly, he bottomed out - causing a white flash of painful pleasure to course through her. 

She could hear him, feel him, snarling near her neck while he pressed his face into her hair. With needy arms she tried to pull him closer so his chest would press against her own. Maria brought her mouth up to his ear and begged. 

“Please, god it feels so good - harder. Do it harder. Beej, please.” 

Saying his name between sultry, desperate moans was not something she’d ever imagined doing. Not in reality, anyway. Those were saved for the occasional office daydream - because actually sleeping with him was, had been, out of the question. It wasn’t just because she thought sleeping with him was a bad idea, she’d spent the night with plenty of bad ideas, but he’d never asked. 

They’d casually flirted for years, and not once had he tried to take it anywhere. Any other pair of legs, living or dead, was propositioned - but not her. It was humiliating to say it hurt her already fragile self esteem. The devastation of not being pretty enough, not being perfect enough, was what sent her to an early grave. Yet, he’d called her beautiful tonight. And a sinking feeling of being that easy threatened to creep up on her.

With her hips angled up, rocking them in time to meet each thrust, she draped her long legs over his back. How good it felt to be under him was obscuring any negative thoughts, and Maria continued to gasp out her encouragement to keep it going.

At least if this was a pity fuck she was doing her damnedest to make it good for him. Maria's moans, her tight grip, her legs locked around his waist all spurred him, and at her fevered words in his ear he could only obey. 

She'd pulled him down on to her so he couldn't shift an arm to slip between them and finger her clit, so he as her pelvis canted slightly he worked to press his pubic bone against her, which had the delightful side effect of keeping his cock buried completely. But he also did as she asked, thrusting until he found a rhythm that seemed to satisfy her request, that quickly--too quickly!--was going to be the end of him.

The harder rhythm was just what she needed. Combined with the rough stimulation on her clit Maria found herself close. She squeaked out unintelligible praise while his trusts stuttered and she dug her nails back into his back. 

“I’m close - Beej. Don’t stop.” 

Her voice cracked and Maria dropped her head against the mattress, sending a puff of dust up in the process. It took just a few more hard, well placed thrusts for Maria to reach her peak. She cried out, her muscles clenching and fluttering around him while she rode her high. Desperately she caught his lips with her own and kissed him, moaning into his mouth as she felt him follow her over the edge. She kept herself wrapped tightly around him in the process-- wanting to feel his weight, which was strangely comforting, on her while they finished.

Her words barely filtered through the ringing in his ears: a combination of what would have been blood pounding and the voice in his head that grew in volume, both fueled by the pleasure building in his gut. 

"She's lying. Lying. She's faking, to get this over and done with. You're a fuck up, you're an idiot for falling for it again--what is wrong with you? You know no one wants you like this--" 

Under him, Maria grasped at him, her nails digging into his skin, her legs squeezing him in a way that she had to have locked her ankles behind him. Her wordless cry and the clench of her pussy around him spiked his bliss and despite the sour bite of the words between his ears, his hips felt differently and they snapped into her brutally as he crested his peak. 

He cried out--it may have been her name, it may have been a wordless bellow, he had no faculties to know what sound he made, at the moment--and it was muted immediately by her mouth on his again.

For a moment, everything was right in the universe. Euphoria is a hell of a drug: her tight grip on him, their joining so intimately, nesting in the afterglow of shared pleasure. Then, sharper than her nails in the small of his back, that voice grew claws and dug into his thoughts.

Maria gasped in breath she didn’t need and traveled her fingers up his back and into his hair. With a ghost of a smile she leaned up to press her lips on his chin, a soft hum of satisfaction in her throat. She loosened the tight grip of her legs around his hips, only slightly, not in any rush for him to roll off. Having their bodies pressed together, with him still buried between her thighs, only made the afterglow last longer. 

She looked up from kissing his chin, her lips only dusted with a light pink now that most of the color had been smudged off. 

“Betelgeuse . . .” 

There was a long pause following his name as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say - what did she want to say? That it was great? That she wanted to go again? That she’d fantasized about doing this in the office, where she'd watch him from her desk like a schoolgirl with a crush? A crush she finally acted on. 

No – that would be humiliating - and wouldn’t help his already inflated ego. Suggesting another round would stroke it just the same, but she was willing to make the concession if it meant he’d fuck her like that again. Any feelings she’d had about this being a bad idea were easily pushed away while so comfortably curled up under his large frame.

Not wanting to keep him waiting she opened her mouth to speak, settling on the safest route of suggesting a repeat performance, but stopped when his expression caught her off guard.

tbc . . .