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buttercupblu · 4 months ago

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SoftDom!Suguru

Geto Finds Your Fanfic X Reader|Birthday One-Shot

the deets: uh, oh...girl, your boyfriend found your smut 😶 w.c: 12.3k (look...it is what it is) tags: fem!reader, fanfic indulgence (reverse uno, reader is an ADDICT—SHOCKER), mention of smut which is so ironic, delulu reader has all her dreams come true with the dreamiest fucking boyfriend in the history of boyfriends, soft-dom power dynamic, clitoral and vaginal masturbation, spanking/impact, edging/orgasm denial, fingering, forced orgasm, mention of breath play, gagging and throat fucking, mention of wax play, rope/restraint play, overstimulation, use of vibrator, P in V, creampie, reader’s brain is scrambled as she’s fucked into oblivion and ‘space’ (if you know you know), and most importantly, 💗💗💗CONSENT AND AFTERCARE IS SEXYYY💗💗💗 angel’s note: i almost named this 50 Shades of Geto chat 🧍🏾‍♀️…|a SoftDom!Suguru inspo pic i came across while writing 🥴 earworm 🐛: Freak in You|PartyNextDoor [Hoe|Jhene Aiko in video header]

Is this really the life I'm living?

Stifled moans threatening to spill over your puffy lips say yes.

That's less noticeable than the sharp, cool air kissing your aching nipples, though. Cute, little buttons that make your boyfriend's dick jump when he thinks about pinching them.

But neither compare to the coarse feel of the rope wrapped around your dainty wrists—competing for your attention and burning into your skin the more you grapple with it.

Remnants will be there for days. Intricate lines of art that mark your body and make your slutty little mind smile.

But only fear lives in your eyes looking into Suguru's—his face smug but stern.

A slight grin graces his lips as he raises his hand. “Eyes on me.”

And you hold your breath, knowing that it’ll be 100 times worse if you look away, and wait for the—

Holy fucking coW, this is not a drill this is nOT A DRILL.

You squealed watching the mail truck drive off from the post you'd been stalking for hours—barely containing yourself from tearing the package to shreds the moment it's in your hands after rushing back inside.

Weeks had gone by, WEEKS, waiting for the beauty so gracefully wrapped in a shimmery tulle. Delicately peeling it away, you practically creamed yourself the second you pulled it from its satin bag.

It was finally in your hands, your fingers tracing over the glossy cover and raised title, not believing you were finally witnessing it in all its glory. And God, that new book smell was like crack.

Isn't It Sweet?

You nodded, biting your lip, agreeing with one of your favorite authors of all time as you marveled at their latest limited-book release.

One of only 1000 copies.

You remember how shaky your hands were when you ordered it, having set 4 or 5 alarms to make sure you didn't miss out on the drop. But you probably should've won an award for the world's fastest order the way you secured the bag with the quickness. And after daydreaming about it for days, you wanted nothing more than to hug it into your chest like a newborn babe.

Anyone who knows you would agree and say you're an avid reader (as if your overflowing bookshelf isn't enough evidence.) Still, you would say you were maybe just slightly above average—only spending about 5 to 6 hours a day gluing your eyes to books and words. Fully immersing yourself in endless lives, worlds, and universes was nothing as long as the life was worth living. And you're no stranger to all kinds of genres.

The classics. Sci-Fy. Horror. Smut. Occasional non-fic and self-help because it pays to be well-rounded. Romance is often hit or miss, but it has its moments.

What?

Oh ya. That's right.

That said smut.

And oh baby, does it have its claws in you.

Especially when it comes to fanfic.

Are you the world's biggest nerd? Maybe not (that's a lie; you've cosplayed and been to a few conventions—you're too far in the trenches, beloved, and it's okay), but the second someone mentions anime, you almost break your neck to listen in. Waiting to see if your favs are mentioned.

With most of them, you come for the action, laughs, and often heartbreak. Your latest fav was a great example of all of the above and taking the anime world by storm. The storyline and PTSD you get from watching it are part of the reason why, but truth be told, it's mostly because of the real gems you get if you stay. Gracing the screen from the first episode to the last.

Drop-dead gorgeous fictional daddies.

Being ate up around the world for being too good to be true. And there are more than enough of them to build a harem all wrapped up in a cute, gory little bow.

And you're the baddest of the down bad.

But you're not alone.

Oh dear love, very, very far from it.

The simps are everywhere.

And you're the queen of Delulu Land, full of edits, cosplays, AUs, and art galore of anything you could ask for. And who could forget the stories?

Just the sheer amount of raw, raunchy, unsolicited smuttiness you get out of those is enough to make anyone sweat like a sinner in church. And you keep coming back for more.

It amazes you, the quality of content you get from those fandoms written by everyday people that even rival popular published works. But God, you can't even begin to imagine the sheer amount of batshit-crazy and unhinged energy it must take to think up and create such toe-curling filth.

Be there you were. Holding your second hardcopy fanfic that managed to make it off of the internet. About to shamelessly indulge your tastes once again.

It didn't help that the cover was positively delish. It had a dark and mysterious air that you instantly recognized and made you feel a little funny. The infamous style belonged to one of your fav fanfic artists, and you couldn't believe the collab of your dreams was real.

Your bath was about to be one for the books, and you wanted to wait until you were simmering in the tub to open it, but you just had to get a sneak peek of the author's note at least.

You laughed, expecting nothing less as you read the gaggorific but true words. They're so unserious.

But this bath was about to be.

Rosy scents filled the bathroom as you lit a few candles and drew your bath, sprinkling salts and tiny petals into the bubbles.

Anyone on the outside looking in would think you were preparing for a date, and in a way, they would be right, but this solo ritual was routine anytime you got your hands on a good, smutty story.

Sighing, you sank into the cloud of bubbles, your muscles instantly relaxing in the hot, steamy water as you exhaled your cares away and let your head fall back against the fluffy body pillow.

The water felt amazing, and you could spend forever soaking in paradise, but slowly, your face began to warm. Not just because of the sweltering bath curling waves of steam around your body but also because of the heady thoughts that floated through your brain when you remembered why you were there. And so you pulled the caddy into the tub, your heart fluttering as you set up your book and dove in.

Fruity notes coated your tongue as you sipped a new wine between scenes, warming not just your tummy but also your core. Desire steadily built as you flipped through the pages, eyes soaking up the words as the scenes played in your head like you actually had the privilege of being a voyeur of such vulgar moments.

Your hand absent-mindedly drew small circles on your neck the more you imagined and read about your fav fictional daddy. Hearing his voice, trailing your finger down your chest as you envisioned his sharp, sultry eyes. That face he makes when he's being a big, tough, serious guy and somehow your hand ended up between your thighs, fingers lightly tapping your gradually pulsing clit.

And fuck were you jealous.

Your fav warned you about being in her bondage and restraint era, but the OC was going through it—manhandled and dealt with in a way that made your pussy throb until you couldn't take it anymore and slipped your fingers in to feed it.

Mewling, your fingers flexed inside you, feeling so warm inside your walls that ached so much you could feel a heartbeat when you dove in and out—moaning and working to sync with the story's vulgar pleasures.

But no matter how romantic the atmosphere was or how turned on and desperate for release you were, your dainty fingers, as cute as they were, were simply no match for the level of smut between those pages, and soon you found yourself drunk and pouting. Failing to properly reach those deliciously sweet spots inside you and leaving you unsatisfied and craving the only thing you knew could actually give you what you needed.

Your boyfriend.

And you knew if the day ever came when he did even a smidge of the things you'd seen in that book, you'd absolutely fall apart in his hands while blubbering ‘thank you’.

If only you weren't too chickenshit to just open your mouth and ask your angel of a boyfriend for it.

Suguru is such an, oh God—(insert animalistic noises)—you could eat that man for DAYS.

But truth be told, you weren't the usually overly confident bad bitch that made boys fall to their knees with Suguru. In fact, when you first saw him around, you were actually very intimidated.

Right off the bat, everything about him was different, way different.

His casual but cunty style screamed curated but careless when he walked around looking like he was fresh out of a Japanese street-style magazine. Often dressed in dark, baggy clothing that added to his mellow, mysterious aura—only to quietly flex on niggas by adding minimalistic but expensive layers of jewelry and accessories.

But what really made you weak the first time you saw them are the crown jewels that tie his look together—his piercings. The one in his eyebrow made it look sharper when he raised it, and whenever he tucked a strand of hair, you'd notice his cuff earrings fitting snugly on his cartilage that perfectly complimented his gauges. And—fuck—you could go on and on for days about how you constantly had to resist the urge to smash your lips onto his just to feel his snakebites.

You were doomed.

There he was, this tasty but nonchalant, cool guy. Reserved. Exclusive. And picky.

Never ever ever in a million years did you think you could bag a walking piece of art like that.

Don’t get it twisted; you are THEE shit and always the prize, but this time, it was less about looks and more about personality. And compared to Suguru? You were like a baby Powderpuff, sweet and bubbly, while he was a panther: sly, magnetic, and quick to ghost anyone who tried to get too close.

Hot and impossibly hard to get.

No wonder everyone wanted him.

Even without the competition, you were sure he probably had a thing for someone more his vibe, like big titty goth bitches, and you wouldn't blame him. Because sugar and spice just do not mix.

But fate had a funny way of humoring you, and one day you were unexpectedly thrown into each other's lives in a way that couldn't have been anything but the stars aligning.

The Panther and the Powderpuff.

Who knew you two would be a recipe for...perfection? And to your surprise, it was Suguru who latched on first, finding you simply addicting.

You were this vibrant, unapologetic good girl, sugary sweet and full of life, while he was this introverted yet magnetic loner, secretly craving someone to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Everyone else had been mere distractions, superficial, and a waste of his time.

But when the universe suddenly dropped you right into his lap, everything he thought he knew about loving someone changed.

The chemistry was undeniable and Suguru was selfish, wasting no time taking you off the market after only a few dates because the thought of you with anyone else made his stomach twist. But honestly, he had you hooked from, "Hello, my name is...", and ever since, you still find yourself unbelieving your luck—and the way he treats you.

From the unconditional princess treatment to every small or large sentiment you could wish for, Suguru does it all without hesitation. Knowing you deserve nothing less and leaving no room for anyone else to even try to compete. Often making you blush like a little schoolgirl who doesn't know what to do with herself because of his cool candor but loud love. Leaving you gagged and absolutely feral for him.

But it was simple for Suguru. He never questioned his instinct or need to have you. He just knew what he wanted, what he needed.

You.

You stir something deep in him, and he’s simply a slave to that insatiable urge to care for you in ways only he can.

Your sweet, raven-hair simp—always waiting and ready for you to pepper his blissful face with kisses every time you love on each other. Leaving you with no doubts that he’s yours and you’re his.

And he constantly reminds you that he can and will match your freak as his hands never seem to be able to stay off of you just as much as you think about sinking your claws into him.

You practically jumped at any opportunity to have your way and slut out that man in all his panty-dropping glory—when he lets you—but you firmly drew the line at vanilla.

In a perfect world, you could live freely as the truly unhinged and slutty succubus you were and let this man dictate your every waking moment, body, and soul however he pleased—just like many of the books you obsess over.

But you couldn’t risk scaring off your dream man with your Freak-a-leek fantasies.

You had to be quiet with it.

There was no way Suguru would be into that stuff.

Besides, it’s not like you were missing much.

Suguru and Satisfaction go hand-in-hand, and your oh-so-thoughtful boyfriend is damn-near dedicated to making sure you spend your nights repeatedly moaning his name. Whether it’s by slurping you up with his tongue just for a taste or slow-stroking your insides until you soak the sheets before fighting over who's sleeping in it. Naturally reading your body with ease and filling you to the brim with butterflies until you claw his back then milk him dry.

But every now and then, you couldn’t help but wonder…what would happen if one day he just happened to tap into that subtle but smug big dick energy and took the reins?

Alas, you’d rather sneak away every blue moon and submerge in the depths of smut than confess. Settled and content with getting your fix when you could, but that night, you found yourself growing more frustrated the longer you tried.

No matter how hard you concretrated, no matter how detailed and lewd the images and sounds were in your head, you were hell-bent on shooting stars into your eyes with every trick you knew in the book yet failing to bring yourself rapture with such feeble fingers.

Eventually, with a final but not yet defeated groan, you decided to stop toying with yourself and return to Earth. Slightly disappointed but relishing in the fact that you always had access to the ultimate trump card, no matter how your smutty escapades went. You might not get to play 9 and ½ Weeks with your boyfriend, but he always guaranteed to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you and give you everything you need anytime you get all dolled up for him.

Your hand glided down your silky thighs, feeling smooth like butter as you caressed them, and you nodded. Mhmm, you were gonna get tore up tonight.

After finishing your bath, you dressed your body in your favorite lotion and serum combo before slipping into the silky lingerie Suguru randomly bought you a few weeks ago. He had been doing that more lately, coming home with all kinds of catered gifts and this one was by far one of your favorites and fit so perfectly. Now, all that was left to do was wait for him to get home and peel it off.

He’d been out most of the afternoon hanging with the guys while you did a few chores and stalked your mailbox. Suguru said it was supposed to be chill, but with the sun setting soon and knowing that Satoru was invited and without a doubt responsible for why Suguru was still not home, nine times out of ten, they ended up playing basketball.

Your boyfriend is already pretty active, but anytime Satoru comes around, he gets turned up times ten and things get real competitive, real fast. Almost always against Sugu’s will, but he’d rather entertain Toru to make him shut up and eat his words than back down. And like a good girlfriend who knows all of her boyfriend’s dumb little weaknesses, you were exactly right.

You missed the sound of his umbrella as he came through the front door, smoothing back his hair from the rain you didn’t hear while in the bath.

“I’m home, Love,” he calls out, and his gentle yet sultry voice paired with your pet name always makes you blush.

His natural scent was the first thing to hit your nose when he entered the bedroom, mingling with the wine steadily warming your body. Expecting you to nearly tackle him with a hug as you usually do after hours of being apart, he braced himself, but when he found you poised on the bed, relaxed and waiting for him, his mouth dropped, his heart once again racing even though he was sure he burned through his adrenaline playing basketball.

You looked downright delectable.

“Hi, baby,” you laughed, smiling at his expression as you crawled towards him. The silky fabric draped in soft folds over your body, shifting and riding up just enough to reveal tantalizing glimpses of skin as you moved—clinging to your curves like a second skin. Everywhere he wanted his hands to be.

Imagining you in it when he picked it out was one thing, but seeing you in it, right in front of him, well fuck—you looked so perfect now, he’d probably die seeing it around your ankles later.

He drew a breath, unable to believe his luck or imagine a better view than the one of looking up at him with doe eyes while on your hands and knees. Just for him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, the soft blend of rose and vanilla flooding his senses as you pulled your body close before realizing he was soaking wet.

“Ahh! Babe!” You jumped back. “You’re wet.” But his warm hands had already settled on your waist, firmly holding you in place. He smirked and stole a quick peck, and the familiar tease of his lips soon made you forget all about how cold and drenched he was as you melted into his touch, his lips making you more and more needy every time they met yours.

He smiled against your lips, noticing you were more excitable than usual as you deepened the kiss, your heartbeat thudding against his chest as you pressed closer.

“You’re going to *peck* ruin your lingerie, Pretty,” he teased. But you clearly didn’t care, and he softly chuckled, having to reel it in for the both of you as he gently pulled away. “Let me hop in the shower first, ya?”

But when he looked into your puppy-dog eyes as you knelt before him, the thought of walking away felt nearly impossible. You wore that little frown and plea in your eyes that silently begged him not to leave, and any other time, he’d give right in. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, sending warm tingles to your tummy and making it just a bit easier for both of you. With your patience recharged, you perked up and switched gears, asking about his day as he settled in.

He casually shrugged, saying everything was cool. Yu called him, Toru, and Kento over to try out the latest 2K game, and though Toru was always down to hang, he spent the entire time groaning because, surprise, surprise, he was awfully bad at it—no matter which version he played. After losing one too many 1v1s to Suguru and the others, he let his butt-hurt ego get the best of him and suggested they ditch the “baby game” and play some real basketball.

Suguru knew it was just a cop-out for Toru sucking, but he also knew Toru wouldn’t stop whining until he got a chance to redeem himself. At least the day was nice enough for Suguru to humor him—until their Opp, Toji, showed up trying to start shit and ruin a good time as per usual. Lucky for him, the rain came in out of nowhere and cleared everyone out just before the gang could pop off, and blah blah blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff.

Suguru sounds so lovely when he talks, but you were only half-listening, completely mesmerized as he pulled his sopping, wet shirt over his head and revealed his toned body and tats.

No one would ever guess that his chest and sides of his torso were inked unless he showed you. The intricate dragon tattoo weaved across his shoulders and down the full sleeve of his arms, but that was the only evidence that he’d taken a needle to his skin. It’s like a special little surprise reserved only for those he wants to see, and you never get tired of drooling over it—or him, watching him shyly smile as he noticed your gaze and gave you a playful wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

You sank into the bed with a pout but managed to distract yourself as he showered. Suguru loves a long, hot one, and he definitely took his sweet time that night. You figured he deserved it after such a hectic evening and told yourself that the wait to quell your fire was just a little bit longer.

But your impatience would cost you, as you failed to notice that in your haste to get ready for Pound Town, you’d forgotten to do something very important.

Suguru came out whistling, a cloud of steam pouring into the bedroom as he stepped through, a towel wrapped low on his hips. His long, slightly towel-dried hair clung to his face in cute, messy stands, and he shot you a soft, knowing smile as he crossed the room. You were so adorable, waiting on him like a pup, shamelessly following his every movement with your gaze.

He laughed, “You look comfy.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you pouted. “You were in there forever.”

Suguru grinned, reaching for the towel draped around his neck. “Yeah? I guess I got a bit distracted.” He moved toward the dresser, lazily pulling it open. “Did you have a good day?”

Suppressing the urge to be frank, you nodded. If only he knew. “It was okay. Nothing special.”

“Oh, real?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re in such a good mood, though. Didn’t get into anything exciting?”

Just failed to get off to one of the smuttiest fics ever written.

“Nope,” you quickly replied, chewing on your bottom lip. As thoughtful as it was for Suguru to be a loving boyfriend and ask you about your day, you wished he’d chat less and fuck your brains out more. Fuck the clothes, fuck the pleasantries. And it was painfully obvious by the way his sharp, purple eyes took in your antsy body.

Pulling out some clothes, his lips curved into a smile. “You seem a little…eager tonight. Did my girl miss me?” But he didn’t really need to ask. He knew that you were practically in heat and only added flames to the fire by casually throwing on his favorite PJs that hung loosely around his v-section and slipping on a black wife-beater that hugged his torso(I know, that's a CRAZY name for an article of clothing).

Your pussy clenched—Yes God, YESYES STOP THE TORTURE!—silently screaming for him to just stop teasing and give you what you wanted before you exploded, but all you could manage was a whimper and frantic nod, knowing you were just seconds away from showing him exactly how much you did.

Suguru’s smile deepened watching you struggle, amusement dancing in his eyes as he sauntered towards you. “How ‘bout we burn off some of that energy then, hmm?” His weight sank into the mattress as he crawled onto the bed, closing the space between you and softly pecking your lips with every word. “With. A. Game.”

But the way heat flared in your chest as you helplessly fell under his kiss, you didn’t know if you could handle whatever his mischievous little mind was thinking. Still, you felt your body betray you, naturally unable to resist him and growing curious—no, needing—to do just about anything he asked if it meant he would continue kissing butterflies into you.

With heavy-lidded eyes, you asked what game, growing breathy as you imagined every raunchy couple’s game you could think of. But your anticipation quickly turned to confusion when you felt him pull something from behind his back.

“Let’s read something new tonight,” he grinned. And you damn near went into cardiac arrest.

With your mind solely focused on getting your hands on your boyfriend, you had completely forgotten about your book, leaving it in the bathroom to be discovered by Suguru the moment he stepped inside.

And, oh baby, was it insightful.

You gaped, too stunned to speak as he pulled you toward the end of the bed. He settled on the bench and patted his lap, inviting you to sit, but you were frozen in place, absolutely mortified and refusing to believe this was real life.

You were caught, your mind filling with millions of thoughts all wondering how the hell your own carelessness after months of being “careful” ended up outing you, and it took him firmly calling you again before you finally found the courage to move, your brows furrowing as reality hit you.

Now your boyfriend definitely knew how much of a menace you were—one of those Godforsaken BOOKTOK GIRLIES, of all things—and should’ve been running for the hills.

But he only looked at you lovingly, gently guiding you into his lap and making sure you were comfortable before his arms settled around your waist. He cleared his throat and held the book in front of you. “I’ll start,” and he began where you left off—on one of the smuttiest scenes in the story.

“Taichi had seen what your mouth could do.” Oh no. “Never failing to command everyone’s attention before you cleared a room with just your words. Now, as his thumb softly traced over those same desirable lips that held so much power, his cock jumped at the idea of them wrapped around it.”

Holy shit.

Reading it was one thing, but being forced to hear from the last person you’d expect in the most naturally seductive voice imaginable was absolutely killing you in more ways than one. Especially when he was leaning right into your ear, his chin softly resting on your shoulder as if he were reading you a lullaby.

Heat flooded your face, but Suguru’s voice was steady and calm—completely unbothered as if he weren’t reading about your smuttiest innermost fantasies and making your embarrassment skyrocket. You felt so vulnerable and exposed and dirty and like you couldn’t get enough air and fuck—you didn’t know what Suguru was trying to prove or if this was his wicked way of trying to embarrass you before breaking up with you, but the torture was too much, and you had to get out of there.

Panicking, you tried to get up, but no-no—he wasn’t about to let you slip away from storytime that easily, and his arm snaked around your waist and secured you against him with a gentle but unyielding grip. His legs followed suit, quickly wrapping around yours and locking you in place, and you gasped in disbelief when your thighs effortlessly parted and exposed your pretty, clothed pussy.

Helpless whines escaped you, and he tsked, smiling at your sudden innocence. Like you couldn’t believe this was really happening. Like you couldn’t believe that the same filth you craved, obsessed, and dreamt over was now spilling from your boyfriend’s pretty mouth, sounding like a limited-edition audiobook Fanfic girlies could only dream of. And if you thought there was no possible way to make the situation worse than it already was, Suguru decided to take things up a notch and bring the book to life.

His lips lightly brushed your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin as he nuzzled your neck and inhaled your scent. Pressing kisses to the back of your neck, he stole a breath from your lungs when he nipped your ear. Perfectly mimicking the story’s peak and leaving you completely at his mercy as the lines between fantasy and reality blurred.

His hand around your waist trailed across your stomach with a deliberate slowness, traveling down until he grasped your inner thighs, knowing this was one of your most sensitive spots and drawing possessive lines that made your clit begin to tingle and swell through your panties.

Inching closer and closer, the sly smile in his voice grew, and your breath grew shallower until it hitched, sparks igniting when he ghosted over your clit. Your thighs trembled, but his voice remained smooth and unwavering.

Suguru noticed a twisted sense of satisfaction growing within as he felt you squirm, simultaneously struggling to close your legs even though you throbbed like crazy for more. You were caught between sheer embarrassment and undeniable arousal. Not knowing which to give in to.

He pressed his cheek to yours. “You’re so cute when you blush,” he murmured, becoming distracted by your reactions as he poured out endless praise—so flustered, so sickenly distraught and overwhelmed, but it only made him smile.

You always get so shy when he compliments you. His usually confident girl easily coming undone with only a few soft words and a glint in his eyes. And he loved it—the way you always tried to pretend you weren’t seconds away from completely unraveling when he flirted.

He hummed thoughtfully, wondering how long you could keep it up this time. And what it would take for you to fold.

“Finish up for me, pretty girl,” he decided, and handing you the book, his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties and brushed your soaking folds.

You stiffened, the sudden warmth snatching your breath and making it impossible to get a single sentence or objection out.

“C’mon baby,” he kissed your shoulder, fingers stilling right on your clit. “You have such a pretty voice.”

The fucking Devil.

You let out a shaky moan, not knowing whether you hated or still loved him in that moment, but either way, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him see you crack, and you drew a breath.

Clearing your throat, you swallowed thicky and mustered up the steadiest voice you could to prove you wouldn’t just be a victim of this wicked game of his. And you were doing so well, for a sentence or two. Until his slick fingers started to call your bluff and gradually began to draw slow, precise circles right on your swollen bud.

And God help you, you couldn't stop the stutter.

“Sm-smeared mas-sc-scara ran hah down y-your f-face.” You paused and closed your eyes, wetting your lips before continuing. “You’d p-pay for your ah used and…and b-br-bruised t-throat in the morning bUT,” you yelped when he squeezed your waist. “It-it was a small price to p-pay to taste a c-cock sss-so d-delish.”

Suguru chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. But it wasn’t enough.

He needed to see you completely fall apart.

His free hand glided upward and fondled your breast, his thumb taunting and brushing over your nipple. You instinctively arched into his touch, a series of soft whimpers escaping your lips as he rolled them between his fingers until they were sensitive and hard.

Your body couldn't decide which overwhelming sensation to focus on—the weight of his fingers just sitting and taunting your clit or the jolts of pleasure running to your core with each pinch of your nipple. Both sent messy moans tumbling out of your mouth.

He grinned against your shoulder. “You’re so responsive tonight,” he said, adding to the heady mix of lust and frustration. Building you up and bringing you down in a vicious cycle as every time you crept closer and closer to losing it, he was quick to slow and remind you to keep going.

But your thighs kept quaking and your breath kept hitching and you could only squirm so much trying to rock into his touch and steal Heaven, but his fingers were light and easily kept you right on the edge. Touching only your clit and leaving you distraught as your poor, neglected walls began to ache.

But your desperation was too loud to ignore, and knowing you wouldn’t give up, he smirked—like boyfriend, like girlfriend—and he nipped your ear, pulling back the hood of your clit before he strummed his fingers over it. Fast. “Go for it,” Suguru whispered.

And fuck, it took all of 2 seconds for your legs to become a vibrating mess and made him wrap his tighter, your breath going light as you rose up on your toes.

Whimpering.

Heart racing.

Eyes drawing closed as you mentally sang his praises for allowing you to finally cum. Walking you to the line of release and rapture with every flick of your hot clit and every breath on your skin right up until he stopped.

You let out a defeated scoff.

You weren’t getting off that easy.

He pulled the long-forgotten book from your hands, and you yelped, suddenly being lifted and bent over his knee. He gave you a second to adjust, then secured you with an arm around your waist, rolling up the hem of your dress before his heavy palm settled on your ass, fingers languidly massaging your cheeks.

You felt so plush as he caressed your skin, gripping you lovingly between his fingers before he delivered a heavy slap.

“Why’d you keep this from me?”

A shriek died in your throat, a million things instantly flying through your head. Shock from this stranger you called a boyfriend, how you ended up here, how no one could’ve ever convinced you that this situation only found in books and on the internet would actually happen to you.

Endless things to think about but nothing to say.

“Oh, we’re being shy now?” Any other time, you would spend hours yapping Suguru’s ears off about one thing or another and he’d dote on every word. But now they were escaping you.

*SLAP!*

And he gripped your cheek to soothe the sting, fingers running over the raised marks the rings he never takes off left on your skin.

He hummed, eyeing the soaked patch on your panties, biting his lip seeing you’d gotten even wetter since he bent you over his knee.

His fingers couldn’t resist gently dragging over your clothed folds, just light enough that it felt like a ghost and made you shudder. You pushed back, trying to chase it, your mind borderline broken and desperate to quench your insatiable thirst, but found it impossible to move.

“Let’s try this again.” And he delivered a slap even harsher than the last, making you squirm under his tight grip.

Obviously, you hadn’t learned your lesson from earlier, and when you tried to get away, Suguru swiftly pinned your arms behind your back and didn’t skip a beat, landing another series of slaps on the same spot since you wanted to be so damn difficult.

You knew you couldn’t escape but neither would your words, silent screams building up as you just had to lie there and take it. Emotional turmoil churned within, leaving you questioning everything you thought you knew about Suguru who was promptly lighting your ass up. Bringing to life each hot sting that you’ve fantasized about in stories, on TV, and in the dirty thoughts of your boyfriend maybe one day warming up to the idea—but not like this. This was so sudden. Too much. So overwhelming to the point that nothing came out of you but feeble whines and stuttering breaths until you were on the verge of tears when “I’m sorry!” finally slipped from your defeated lips.

Suguru froze.

His heart thumped.

And in the span of a few seconds, Suguru learned a few things about himself.

1. He hadn’t expected himself to be able to break you so quickly. You’re as tough as he is, hell, even tougher sometimes, and only admit defeat when you absolutely cannot fight anymore.

2. He hadn’t expected to fall head over heels in love with the sound of your cries and heavy breaths as you tried to gather yourself.

Knowing he was the cause and this was the effect of you being worn out and surrendering made his dick thump against your stomach.

He rubbed slow, soothing circles on your flushed cheeks.

“It’s ok baby, it’s ok,” he shushed, and you felt so pitiful yet turned on that you could cry. But as much as he wanted to relish in your punishment for keeping secrets, he also needed to reveal one of his own. “Because I’ve known for a while.”

“You wHAT?” Your voice cracked. If you could look him in the eyes, you would just so he could see how utterly flabbergasted you were because there was no freaking way. “How??”

“C’mon babe,” he snickered, “You watch DevilBoy Games, a lot, and Toru told me how you DBG girls are, I’ve seen you drool over that crazy guy with bags under his eyes.”

“He’s not crazy,” you huffed, “Just misunderstood.”

He laughed, lightly squeezing your thigh. “He kinda looks like me.”

“Get over yourself.” And you’d cross your arms if he weren’t still holding them.

He tsked. “Are you really surprised, love?” he asked, smirking before completely reading you, mentioning that there was no way you thought he wouldn’t notice the nights when you would stay up late, blushing at your phone.

Never once wondering if you were talking to some other guy or anyone else, but putting two and two together pretty early on when you said you were having reading time on your favorite social platform known for its…content. Scrolling the site for hours just to soak up pure filth.

As secretive as you tried to seem about it, the obsession never stopped you from being bold enough to do it in bed.

Suguru pouted. “So, you don’t like me enough or what?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with genuine curiosity. He often wondered why you didn’t just say anything—how you could be so close to him and dive into your fantasies but not act on them.

Your face instantly heated. “It’s not…it’s not like that at all!” you stammered, struggling to find the right words. “I just—it’s different, okay?”

He cocked his head. "Different how?"

“I don’t know I…–I honestly didn’t think you’d be into that stuff,” you admitted, feeling more vulnerable than ever and even a little guilty. You deflated. “I thought you’d think I was weird.”

"My baby? Weird?” He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "That can’t be it.” And he leaned close. “Or maybe you just thought I couldn't handle it," and his eyes gleamed.

Your stomach dropped, eyes going wide as you were once again left shocked and speechless. But Suguru let go of your arms, satisfied enough with your confession and ready to play now, for real.

Your pussy practically swallowed your drenched panties that clung to you as he pulled them to the side, the cool air kissing your folds before you felt his warm fingers swirl over your glistening vulva.

He smiled—you were so sensitive—bucking at the languid strokes as he gathered your slick. He’s always been gifted with his fingers and quick to make you fall apart from the slightest touch.

He bit his lip, unable to resist lightly dipping his fingertips in just to bring them to his mouth and give you a taste.

“So fucking good.” He could play with you forever. Licking his lips, he parted yours, transfixed on your walls that clenched around nothing. Desperate to take his fingers that teased desperate whines out of you.

“You gonna keep any more secrets from me, baby?”

You shook your head, desperate to do or say whatever, which Suguru knew, but he needed you to mean it.

He’d been edging you for almost half an hour now and his own dick was just as strained and blue-balled as your pussy, but he could and would hold out as long as he had to to make sure you’d never feel ashamed enough to hide any parts of you ever again. He just needed to hear the words, and he dipped just the tip of his finger inside you. “Say it.”

“I promise, Sugu, never again,” you pleaded, your voice shaking. "I’ll never keep anything from you again, just please, I—” you almost choked. "I need you so badly.”

The words spilled out you, sounding so pretty when you begged. And when he finally believed you, your mouth fell open, but nothing came out—a breath catching in your throat and eyes fluttering at that familiar stretch as he slowly pushed in. Walls finally sucking in the fingers they’d been so hungry for.

You could’ve came right then.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. You felt like home.

Your spongey walls squished and pulsed around him like a heartbeat, his fingers sinking in slow until you drew a sharp breath, your leg twitching.

Right there, he smiled, almost instantly finding that gushy spot of yours that makes you see white.

He whistled—this mouth-watering position not only gave him an immaculate view of your ass he wanted to sink his teeth into but also let his peace fingers perfectly angle and beckon your gspot.

His other hand slowly spread you wide, and he cooed, marveling at how easy he slid in and out, his fingers hooking with each dip as he took advantage of the easy access and sent sparks to your toes.

Your teeth tugged at your lip, brows drawing together. He was pushing so sinfully into you, his fingers flowing like waves with the full intent to draw your orgasm out of you as he’d done millions of times before. Always leaving you breathless, heady, and unbelieving how natural it was for him to bring you to absolute shambles.

His pace was agonizingly slow, plunging in and out with a deliberate rhythm that had you trembling and your lip sore from biting and stifling your pathetic moans. His dick painfully throbbed against your stomach, the heat of it branding your skin with each ragged breath you took trying to contain yourself.

After keeping you on the edge for so long without mercy, he was about to send you plummeting into the deep end, his own restraint slipping with every passing second as his pace gradually increased, your slick beginning to pool around his fingers when you felt your orgasm coming on.

Your muscles tightened around him as he pushed you towards your peak, the sound of his fingers fucking into you rivaling macaroni but had to battle your fat mouth spilling out moans like a starving slut.

“Ssh ssh ssh.” His hand slipped over your mouth. “I wanna hear her, she sounds so pretty.” And without restraint, the squelches of your pussy fucked the air, your drool slipping through his fingers and dripping down the side of your mouth. And just as you felt time slowing, he quickly swapped fingers, his middle and ring fingers angling down and furiously hitting that blinding spot that sent your eyes rolling.

Forgetting how to breathe, your cherry-O raced around the corner, aiming to crash right into you. Slowly, you began to arch your back into his hand, core tightening. And when you drew a deep breath, eyes screwing shut as you held it, his voice was deep and low to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, let it out.” And he racked his fingers until the pressure of your orgasm burst open.

"ohoHfuckfuCKFUCK SUGUSUGUSUGUOHMYGODIMCUMMING!" You clutched his calf and toppled over, your fluids spilling around his fingers and down your thighs, making a complete mess on his pants.

“Gooood girl, just like that,” he said almost desperately, biting down on his lip to stifle his own moans, but his fingers didn’t slow down, jiggling into you until you were writhing and begging for relief. He just had to make sure he got it all out, his silky fingers swimming deep into your sopping and noisy pussy until he wrung out all your shudders then slowed until your breaths somewhat returned to normal.

You came down, releasing your grip on him, your calves sore and aching from being on your toes.

Suguru smirked and licked his fingers clean, impressed by the sight of you lifelessly hanging over his legs: pathetic, spent, and cute.

After a moment of just holding you, he leaned down, pressing a kiss on your slightly reddened cheek before giving you an unexpected but quick lick of your pussy that made you twitch.

Yup, good and sensitive, just like he liked it.

Gently rubbing your back, he hummed. “Is my little slut satisfied?”

“Suguru!” Un uh—now he was calling you names?? You barely managed to open your eyes, still in a daze as you tried to look at him.

“What?” he shrugged. “Just making sure…the author said you wouldn’t be,” he cocked a brow with a playful smile. “...Right?”

…the godforsaken author’s note.

“For all my sluts who’d rather be fucked by fictional men than real ones.“

You ran your limp noodle of a hand over your face and groaned. Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any more humiliating, your fave author doubled back and helped you stumble into more trouble.

But Suguru wasn’t offended, not even a little bit. If anything, he looked amused, a slight smirk gracing his lips with a flicker of something else in his eyes.

He’d been waiting for an opportunity like this and bided his time. Now, every little secret and hidden desire you thought you’d keep forever buried in those books was out in the open and his for the taking—and he was ready to tear them apart.

“Suguru, I—”

“It’s ok,” he shushed, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he tenderly cupped your face. But the hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you saw that sly grin spread across his face before he said, “We’ll see about that.”

Things were a bit…different..after that night.

It wasn’t something either of you discussed outright, but there was definitely a shift—an unspoken understanding that lingered in the air between you.

At first, it was like you were meeting for the first time all over again, and you slipped back into that shy, uncertain girl you were when Suguru first came into your life. Every knowing look he gave you, every slight touch, had you blushing, anticipating. As if you, once again, had no idea how to handle him—or how he would handle you.

He was slowly unveiling the quiet power you never knew or expected him to possess. And he was making sure you wouldn’t dismiss it again.

Now, it was you who hesitated before speaking, nervously fiddling with your fingers any time he asked you something even slightly suggestive before your eyes would dart away in embarrassment—not knowing that Suguru was absolutely loving this budding dynamic.

He would tease but never pushed too hard because he was patient. Always patient and watching with that soft, amused smile anytime you fumbled for words or tried to play off how flustered you were. Gradually coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend—the same one who always gave you a gentle look and treated you like you were more than precious—was more than willing to cater to and control you until you creamed and cried.

But honestly, not much had changed for Suguru. He still carried that same calm, subtle soft-dom energy that had always drawn you in—now there was just a label for it.

But there was a subtle shift in the way he handled you, like a quiet reminder that he knew you now—all of you. And he made one thing clear and made sure you understood it—closed mouths don’t get fed—and it was a lesson you had to learn quickly, especially after you promised not to keep any more secrets. And whenever you’d shy away or fall into your usual silence, Suguru would tilt your chin and hold your gaze with those piercing, violet eyes. “Use your words, Pretty,” he’d say, and your cheeks would burn with embarrassment, but you’d still push through because you knew he was right.

So you stayed true to your word and began looking for all the ways you could experiment and get what you wanted…in the only way a little gremlin like you could…by getting him riled up. And for a minute, he would just take it on the chin. But then he discovered breath play.

You were really getting on his nerves one day.

But you felt like you would actually die if he left you to hang with the boys when something in you was practically begging you to crawl into his skin. He was about to leave out wearing your favorite hoodie of his too, the one that's slightly cropped and hangs just above his midriff, and you sulked because you knew that any thirsty bitch in the vicinity would try to be on him like white on rice even when Suguru never paid them any mind.

Besides, he had already fucked you silly that morning and had been pampering you with kisses all afternoon, so he didn’t understand why you were being so clingy.

But you were craving something else. A bit of something to eat.

And instead of just telling him that you wanted his dick down your throat and past your tonsils, you decided to block the front door, cross-armed, scowling, and staring at the appetizing outline on his basketball shorts. Jealous that they got to hold his heavy balls all day instead of you.

His fingers snapped, “Babe,” the sound pulling you out of your silent tantrum and making you look at him with wanting eyes. “What’s up with you?” he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to say it, so you deepened your silent pout until he pinched his nose and sighed.

“Then move,” he started, stepping closer, but you shook your head and widened your stance like a toddler.

A smirk played on his lips as he loomed over you, taking in your pettiness before his hand thudded next to your head.

You jumped, but your defiance didn’t waver, your eyes lifting to meet his. His smug expression only deepened as he shifted, the heat of his coveted dick pressing against your thigh in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Move,” he repeated, but you just pressed your lips tighter, your eyes challenging him.

His other hand slid up, fingers gently curling around your neck and thumb brushing over your pulse. "We doing this again?" he asked, low and laced with threat.

What could you say? Old habits die hard.

But he knew what you wanted. The way you thickly swallowed and wet your lips, eyes darting to the growing tent between you, spoke volumes even when you wouldn’t.

“Fine,” he said, and before you knew it, your knees were hitting the ground, his hand settling on your head and making you slink to the floor. He tilted your chin. “Open that pretty mouth since you don’t want to use it.”

And at his gruff command, your tongue lolled out, unapologetically.

He tsked, tucking his lip under his teeth at your display.

You’re the most difficultly-easy person he knows next to Satoru, quick to make the simplest things complicated sometimes, and this time, he was going to give you exactly what you were asking for, but not without reprimand.

His thumb landed on your pink tongue, pressing and holding your gaze.

“You want it?” You caught a subtle thump, and he palmed his shorts. “Oi, up here” He held your jaw, cocking his brow.

His smirk was devilish, a knowing glint in his eye watching you grow needier by the second—unable to focus on anything but the desperate need for him to turn your throat into a daycare.

Tongue trapped under his thumb, you finally answered him in the only way you knew how, and he watched with parted lips as yours closed around his finger with an eager nod.

You were going to be the death of him.

With a tug of his shorts, your fat reward sprang forth, almost brushing the tip of your nose—already leaking stringy globs of precum for giving him such a hard time.

Your eyes sparkled. Suguru has such a pretty dick. One of the prettiest you’ve ever seen that’s girthy, long, and perfectly made for your greedy throat.

It was heavy on your tongue as he tapped it, teasing your palate and holding it out for you to give it a taste.

Less was said, and you gladly accepted your meal, the taste of him coating your tongue as you swirled around the tip before sucking it into your mouth.

Suguru’s knees almost buckled as you lapped at him like ice cream, your tongue tracing up and down his shaft before placing gentle kisses under his tip. His face went warm, his fingers threading through your hair as he fought to maintain control. “Don’t—ngh—tease. Suck it—mmph—properly.” And with a firm press to your bottom lip, he coaxed your mouth open before pushing in and filling it completely.

You gagged, and a deep exhale left his lips feeling your warm mouth finally wrap around him, your eyes watering as the weight of his dick fully seated on your tongue and made your lips stretch to savor every inch.

“That’s it—mphm—take it all.”

His hips automatically moved at the feel of your throat, his head softly falling back feeling you relax and hum around him. He couldn’t help but gently thrust, his spongy tip kissing the back of your throat and making you blink back tears as he tested your limits. And you only made it harder for him to hold back with the way you ate him up like candy.

Even though head is a game, you never play. All day, you’d been torturing yourself, once again denying yourself of your insistent need to swallow his kids in the name of shame, but once the reins were off, you wasted no time satisfying your craving—knowing exactly how to get Suguru to blow his load.

And fuck was it a losing battle for him to try to keep the tendrils of his orgasm at bay while also trying to remember that he was supposed to be teaching you a lesson.

As he said, closed mouths don’t get fed, and he started pulling away with a satisfying ‘pop’ every time you got too greedy. Rubbing his dick over your lips with a grin before snaking back in and taking you further and further down each time.

He groaned watching you take him, your eyes meeting as you looked up. The new cut in his brow made them look even sexier when he bunched them, complementing the low and husky look in his eyes you’d never seen before you sent them rolling when he wrapped your hair around his fist and pushed in to the base.

“Hah.” His breath hitched as you swallowed. Once. Twice. Holding you down a sec before he pulled out with an exhale. And as he watched your heavy breaths, struggling to collect yourself but looking up at him with a starry-eyed but fucked out gaze, he got an idea.

“Why do you act so innocent all the time?” he huffed, pushing back in. “Look at you,” his thumb stretched your lips, “Choking on my dick and loving it.” Always the innocent ones, he thinks, full of frills and freaks.

And you couldn’t deny how the slow and lewd way he fucked your throat made your pussy drip like a waterfall, uring you to rub fast circles across your throbbing clit, but he knew you would try.

You were a cock-drunk slut, after all, always getting off when he stretched, used, and abused your throat to his satisfaction, so he knew he would have to lock your hands away to keep your mouth open and you focused since you wanted to taste him so badly.

Still fucking your throat, he said, “Take a breath, baby,” and soon after, you gagged when he leaned over you. “Hold it,” and he pulled the string from his hoodie and began counting. “One, two, three.” Bringing a flood of tears to your fluttering eyes as he sank deep into your throat and tied your wrists behind your back.

Air. God, what is air?? Your lungs screamed for it, stomach tight, but your pussy clenched so sinfully tight from the lack of it.

You didn’t know it then, but this was an accidental deep dive into something you’d both come to love. The control, the discipline, the trust. The skill you had to possess as a certified throat goat. And most of all, the uncertainty of never knowing when he was going to allow your next breath. Every time counting down until you were squirming for air before pulling out with an exhale as if he were breathing with you.

He ogled at the messy evidence of effort plastered on your face, strings of spit connecting from your lips to his pink tip. His dick twitched at your huffs and tear-streaked face and he rubbed your puffy lips. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby,” and the words went straight to your swollen clit before he continued playing with you.

He loved how your throat closed around his dick when you swallowed, like you were trying to milk him for every drop. Sucking, blowing, and swallowing til your throat knew every vein and his orgasm was coming and coming fast. His stuttering hips and tightening grip on your hair were enough evidence if the low moans competing with the sloshes of your throat weren’t.

Heat pooled in his stomach, brows furrowing as he locked eyes with a borderline whiny look. He licked his lips. “Ready for me to cum for you, baby?” he asked in that breathy voice he always does before he unravels. And your dick-drunk nod, knowing you were about to earn your meal, was all he needed to cup your jaw, making sure you looked him right in the eye as the coil in him snapped.

“Fuck, hah, I’m cumming,” and he groaned, biting his pierced lips and slipping all the way to the base til your nose brushed his tufts of hair and he filled your throat.

Ropes of cum poured out of him, and he went dizzy, his mouth falling open with shaky moans watching your spaced and gone face as he came down your throat. Your wrists strained against the tie as your throat constricted, but you swallowed his throbbing cock with ease like it was the only sustenance you needed. Pumping you full until he was a soft and empty gummy worm in your mouth.

He shuddered and collected his breaths, slowly pulling from your lips with a sigh. You hummed and licked them—most of your lunch had gone to your stomach, but remnants remained on your tongue, warm and delicious.

"ThAnk," you cleared your throat. "Thank you," you huffed, throat raw and voice cracking, but he just shook his head and smiled. You were above asking for what you wanted but never forgot to be grateful when you got it.

He swiped your chin with his thumb. "You're a brat," and you beamed, lifting your chin. Because he didn't know how right he was.

And while that was just the beginning of your exploration of power dynamics, it quickly became a very slippery slope. Because while you might've thought you were the expert in all things whips and chains and excitement, Suguru had been quietly doing some research and taking hellah notes. And taking one directly from you, he soon began to make a few secret purchases of his own.

Suguru has his hobbies.

He likes to read, play sports to stay fit, and enjoys spending time in nature when he can. Outside of that, he’s pretty simple.

But there’s a little-known fun fact about your beau—he’s a secret artiste.

It’s rare that he’ll break out his paints and easel, but once every blue moon when his inner Picasso strikes, he’ll sit for hours, brush to canvas until it all pours out of him.

You always find yourself in a trance watching him in that element—his quiet intensity as he gets lost in space and creates galaxies. But even though Suguru isn't loud about his talent, he’s actually very creative and always looking for different ways to release and create. Never shying awaying from trying new things and always looking for new mediums. And canvases.

You slightly winced, then moaned.

Wax is hot in more ways than one, and it’s just perfect for when Suguru wants to creatively get his hands on you.

He loves creating delicate patterns on your back, savoring every moment and watching your face twist between pain and ecstasy as he skillfully lets the wax drip. Never too much at once, the hot lines spill and cool across his favorite canvas—your skin. There's a world of difference between paper stretched across wood, and the softness beneath his hands, and your skin is far lovelier, simply irresistible.

His hair brushed your skin as he leaned down, his lips tracing down your back and between the patterns. So soft against his lips. All of you, from your neck to your chest to your tummy, softly mold under his fingers like clay when he worships you like art, and sometimes he’ll drip hot lines down your inner thighs and plush cheeks just so he can melt his lips between them—feeling so lucky to have the privilege to feast on a masterpiece.

Your own little van Gogh, drowning his nose in your folds and bringing curses to your lips.

You knew Suguru was a modern-day Michelangelo with a paintbrush, but now your once shy and reserved man was having too much fun exploring all the unconventional ways he could create art—and slowly crossing over into a world of kinky debauchery.

And at the end of every session, he never forgets to take a Polaroid picture to show you and keep for himself. A little testament to his sentiments and sensuality. It wasn’t all just about whips and chains after all.

You also needed—

Buzz!

Your eyes screw shut and you tense but can’t move because of the

—rope.

“Hey,” Suguru snaps. “I said keep your eyes on me,” and you shot daggers at him because how the hell could you when you’ve been overstimulated for hours and have already cum, twice?

Eyes softening, you whimper, but your heart sinks when he just rolls his eyes.

Fuck.

You really did it this time.

Your boyfriend has a lot of patience, a thin line for everyone else but a lot for you. But God, do you know how to fucking tap dance on it sometimes.

“Did you think you were cute?” his face screwed. “Dancing in sections and on bars. Guys?” The vibrations increase, and you double over whining.

In all fairness, you did beg him to come out with you and your girls earlier, but your boo has been working on a big project lately and was understandably beyond tired. Still, you complained, eventually giving up and still going out without him, but you didn't expect a play-by-play of your night and mini rebellion to end up all over your equally drunk friend’s Snapchat—or for Suguru to see it.

You picked a hell of a time to act out too, because, after weeks of secretly practicing his newest obsession, Suguru had finally perfected it: the harness prayer tie, and watching your wrists struggle against his work was the most satisfying confirmation of his skill he could’ve asked for.

The skill and intricacy of restraint and rope play was the perfect balance between tapping into his creative side and reeling you in when you got out of hand—now proving very useful after you had fully pissed him off.

Leaning down, he grips your face. “You wanna act like a slut so badly, I’m gonna treat you one.”

But he didn’t just give you the dick you’d been acting out over right away though—he hardly thought you deserved it.

Instead, a vibrator has been nuzzling your clit for hours after he woke you up the following morning and went to work with his tie—your blubbering whines falling on deaf ears as he overstimulated you until you felt ruined and raw.

Sniffling, you plead, “I’m sorry, Sugu.”

“You’re always sorry,” he bites back, his hand wrapping under your jaw. “And so fucking greedy, you know that? I bet you still want me to fuck you stupid like the cock-thirsty slut you are even though you’ve been begging me for a break.” And your stomach pangs, a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs despite the rawness because he was more than right.

“You want attention so bad, you want me to fuck you so bad,” he pulls your hair, making you look straight at him. “Then beg,” and the serious way he looks at you makes you actually start to feel bad for upsetting him so much.

Swallowing your pride, tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Please,” you whimper, “I’ll do anything just please…please fuck me.”

And the words had barely left your lips when fear shot through you, his eyes darkening as you quickly realized that you should’ve been more careful with what you wished for.

Without warning, he placed you on the bed and flipped you over. Gripping your hips, he hastily pushed you down into a grade-A arch and tucked his tee between his teeth, springing his cock free before knocking a breath out of you with one swift thrust.

You both gasp, every muscle tensing as your Earths shatter.

Suguru nearly collapses. Your tight pussy that's been dripping and yearning for hours is easy to slide into yet struggles to accommodate his fat girth, but that doesn't stop him from reeling his hips back and pushing in even deeper.

You nearly draw blood from your lip as he begins to thrust with a pent-up intensity that's been building since last night, nearly blue-balling himself to take care of you in your drunken state and fighting the urge to say fuck it and punish you right then and there.

But now that you were good and sober and overly sensitive, he could finally ruin your dick-starved pussy and fuck you blind.

His hold on you tightens, his knuckles turning white as he fucks into you with a primal urgency. Not caring if you can take it or not because he needs his dick burned into your brain in a way you wouldn’t forget. Besides, who could possibly hold back when you feel so fucking good wrapped around him? Mind-numbing in a way he can never get enough and desperately needs more, and he grips the divots of your waist and pulls you closer, making struggled whines fall from your mouth as he makes you simply take it.

The nerves of your pussy are on fire as every inch of him stretches and hastily fills you, the persistent vibrator on your clit still buzzing and sending you spiraling.

The way he's manhandling you, the soreness in your wrists, and the relentless rhythm of his hips all blend into a rush more intoxicating than anything you had last night until you're overwhelmed and bucking to get away.

“Uh-uh, don’t run.” And his hand wraps around your neck, pulling you up and back against him, two fingers hooking in your mouth and making you arch so deliciously that every kiss of your cervix sends spasms through your walls and coaxes his cock for everything he’s got.

"You feel that?" he snaps. "I fucking bet you do." And your breath grows lighter and lighter until your head goes dizzy, your body turning to Jell-O and slowly melting into the bed, but he follows you down and deepens his stroke. You lose your arch, but with one quick thrust, your nails are digging into your palms. He slaps your ass, punishment for making him mess up his rhythm, before hiking you back up and resuming the brutal pace.

Your mind goes blank and his hair falls from its neat bun, sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead from how hard he's fucking you and leaving you caught between begging for mercy and craving more of this delicious torture.

"Look at you," he growls, "Fuckin' brat—ngh—this is what you wanted, right?" And you can barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak, your reply coming out as garbled moans, but Suguru is having none of it, his hand sliding from your neck to your hair and pulling your head back. You cry out, the sound muffled by his fingers still hooked in your mouth as he bottoms out inside you. "I asked you a question," and the room fills with obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and fumbling 'yeses' from your mouth as he bullies your cervix.

"Fuck hah," his brows furrow, "you drive me crazy, you know that?" he says, voice strained. "You wanted attention?" he breathes, "Well, now you've got it. Every. Fucking. Inch of it." and each word is punctuated by his leaky tip, making your overstimulated pussy clench and draw a sharp hiss from his lips.

"That's it, baby," his rhythm slightly falters. "Squeeze my cock. Show me how sorry you are." And his hand slips from your lips and snakes around your front, pressing the vibrator even harder against you until the delicious stretch of his cock and the merciless buzzing becomes too much to bear.

Your vision blurs, your thighs quaking and trying to draw together, but there's no escape.

"You right there?" He pushes through the familiar clench of your walls. "Then cum for me," Suguru commands, and the words are the final push you need for your orgasm to rip through you like lightning—your body involuntarily arching as waves of hot, white pleasure crash over you.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," you helplessly choke out, walls spazzing and gripping Suguru's cock like shackles, pulsating around him until it forces his own to come chasing after yours.

He struggles for breaths, "Where do you want it, baby?" But it was just a formality, a silly question really, because there was no way he could pull out of your vice-grip. He just needed to know you wanted it as badly as he wanted to fill you up.

"Inside, please, inside me, please," you stammer, still reeling from your own orgasm before he sends you into another, pulling you taunt by the rope and flushing you against his waist.

"Take it," and his moan is low and guttural, his fingers digging into your hips and locking you in as his body tenses, his hot seed flooding and filling you to the brim.

Your eyes meet the top of your head as you cum again in tandem, bliss rippling through your bodies.

"Fuck, c'mere." His lips crash onto yours in a searing kiss, plunging his pulsing cock deep into you one more time as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, pumping out the last of his seed until you're both panting and trembling and he feels his cum oozing out of you.

Slowly, Suguru releases his grip on your hair, deeply exhaling as he gently lowers the both of you to the bed, his softening cock still nestled inside you. You whimper at the still buzzing vibrator, and he finally switches it off, tossing it aside.

He presses soft, soothing kisses to your shoulder. "You did so well, baby," and he carefully unties the rope, his touch tender and apologetic as he massages the faint marks and kisses your wrists.

Out of everything you do together, inside and out of your newfound dynamic, this is his favorite part of all: putting you back together after breaking you into pieces.

His unwavering desire to care for you never changes, even when you do the absolute most just to get his attention and show him that you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you—your private but unmistakably commanding Panther and his secretly kinky Powderpuff princess who was now hanging on to life by a thread.

He softly laughs, slinging your limp arms around his neck and pulling you lovingly into his chest as you breathe. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your rib, his lips peppering your head with kisses as he sighed, feeling your heartbeat slowly sync with his.

But after a few moments in each other's arms, a curiosity that's been living rent-free in Suguru's head for quite some time now rears its ugly head—and he just has to know the answer.

"Sooo," he drawls, "... Taichi or me?" And you almost snort, a smile tugging at your lips as you nuzzle his chest. You look up at him with a playful gaze only to find him deadass—figuring that after a day like today, there would be no better time to officially find out if he's finally settled the score with your anime husband.

Your eyes smile, and you reach up with the little strength you have to gently stroke his face and softly kiss his jaw.

You contently sigh. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, babe.”

extended angel's note: oh god what can i say...

i can confidently say that this took me the entire month of september to write and it's definitely the hardest pieces i've worked on so far god bLESS

y'all have no idea how much word count RESTRAINT i had to use just to keep this reasonable (i do have a slightly extended version just for myself tho 🤭)

this was supposed to drop on my bday (unironically the day JJK ended) but life is life 🤠

anywho, thanks for reading 12k words of pure unadultered, unhinged smut. i hope it was worth it 🫶🏿

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mothhball · 11 months ago

Text

Beneath me

Pairing || professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader

Warnings || 18+ SMUT, NON-CON, DUB-CON, forced breeding, fingering, p in v sex, housewife kink(?), humiliation, dumbification, misogyny, unprotected sex, age gap (professor and student, everyone’s an adult), brief dacryphilia, condescending use of petnames, jon is a prick in this but gets better towards the end (if you squint hard enough)

Summary || The professor suspects you cheated on your exam, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Words || 3.7k

Notes || First ever fic and it’s smut because I love suffering. English isn’t my first language, so I hope everything makes sense. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned in the warnings

Afternoon lectures. The bane of many students’ existence, yours included. You’d been on campus since 9 am, trying to catch up on homework and study material for the most dreaded class of the day. Abnormal Psychology, presented by none other than Professor Jonathan Crane. Crane with his smart suits and piercing eyes. Crane with his condescending remarks and off-handed insults. Crane with his ridiculously handsome face and –

“Are you even listening to me?” The man in question is now standing in front of you, staring you down with narrowed eyes as his lips pull down into a frown. Yes, right. It’s 5 pm now, almost the end of the lecture and time to get your exam results back. You shake yourself out of your stupor, glancing down at the paper he left on your desk. But instead of a grade, you only see a bold red question mark which takes up almost a fourth of the entire first page. Crane clears his throat impatiently, and his mood sours more and more the longer he has to stand next to your seat.

“I said, you will meet me in my office after class. Is that understood? And I’d suggest you get your head in order until then,” he hisses, icy blue eyes filled with disdain. Your heart sinks, and you can feel the blood leaving your face as you manage to nod rather stiffly.

“Of course… Professor Crane, “ you murmur in reply, and upon hearing that, the professor quickly resumes his round around the lecture hall, handing back grades to your fellow students. As the first people pack up their things and begin to file out of the room, you slowly pack up as well. Your hands are cold from anxiety as you zip up your bag and get up from your seat. Meeting Professor Crane in his office was the last thing you wanted to do right now. The plan was to go home, grab takeout on the way and curl up in bed with a movie starring this forty-something year old actor you have the hots for. But God forbit anyone in Gotham wants to have a nice time.

Soon enough, you find yourself in Crane’s office, taking the seat in front of his desk and folding your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. The professor runs a hand through his hair, looking you over with a skeptical glare before he straightens his posture and gets to the point.

“I’m disappointed, shocked and quite frankly, I feel personally insulted.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, he pulls out two stacks of paper, smacking them down on the desk. You quickly recognize one stack as a copy of your exam, but as you look over at the other, it feels like someone froze time for a moment. It’s someone else’s exam, but they wrote down the same answers. Not word for word, but in a way and structure that’s quite obviously plagiarized. Squinting at the name, you remember the guy sitting next to you, and anger bubbles up inside of your chest.

“He cheated off of me,” you mutter, trying to stay calm.

“Brennan said the same thing. Funny how that works, huh? And in case it went over your head, I don’t find it funny at all. But I will have to fail one of you. The question is, which one will it be?”

He takes his glasses off, gingerly setting the spectacles aside before he pinches the bridge of his nose. A little dramatic, but very much expected from him.

“Look, I’m not saying you were the one cheating off of Brennan,” He starts, sounding exhausted and absent at the same time. Like this is all beneath him. Like your future in his class has as much importance as the piece of lint he’s picking off of his sweater vest. “But there’s no real proof that he cheated off of you either. It’s a case of ‘he said, she said’. And it’s not like Brennan had much reason to cheat. He has had consistently good grades, whereas you-“

“I’ll prove it, “ you interrupt him without thinking, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dig into the skin of your palms. Crane looks visibly taken aback, perplexed that you have the gall to intercept before he could expose your rather mediocre academic history in his class. You know you’re average. A face in the crowd; one of many names on an attendance sheet he barely pays attention to.

“I’ll prove it to you,” you repeat, swallowing dryly. Your mouth suddenly feels like you ate sand, and you really want to clear your throat, but you’ve done so thrice within the past five minutes, and you can tell it’s starting to piss him off. “Give me a chance, please. Please, Professor Crane. I know the material, I swear.”

Crane’s eyes briefly dart down to your lips, and his eyebrows furrow in thought before he nods slowly, thoughtfully. He’s making a show of it. Portraying himself as the generous teacher while you’re desperate for even the smallest chance of passing this goddamn class.

“Alright,” He sighs, and the weight seems to lift off of your shoulders. A smile begins to spread on your face, and –

“Get out a pen. And paper. You’re going to write an essay.”

Eyebrows raised in confusion, you tilt your head a little. You almost feel stupid to ask.

“What, right now?”

“Of course, right now. At home, you’d get the chance to cheat again, wouldn’t you?”

Again. He’s still convinced you were the one to cheat on your exam. His tone is bitingly condescending and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further as he gets up from his chair to head over to the almost overflowing bookshelf next to his desk. You’re still sitting there, hands in your lap until he lets out an exasperated sigh, signaling for you to get a move on. Not wanting to incur even more of his wrath, you dig through your bag to get out a pen and some loose sheets of paper.

In the meantime, Crane has chosen a book from his shelf, and he’s wordlessly flipping through the pages until he lands on a fitting topic for an essay. He snaps the book shut and returns to his desk, fixing his tie as he nods to himself.

“Alright. I want 5 pages on fear conditioning. If you truly studied for the exam, this should be a piece of cake. If you didn’t, this will be an embarrassing little lecture you’re in dire need of learning.”

Your eyes widen, and you stammer for a moment, unable to find the words while staying respectful.

“That many? But it’s already –“

“Five-thirty pm? I hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight. And you should be grateful that I don’t have plans either. I’m staying late for your sake. Because you convinced me to give you a chance. I don’t have to do this, you know? I could just fail you and go home. So, I think a little gratitude would be more than appropriate.” There’s an odd expression in his eyes. Halfway between hunger and conflict. He’s usually so composed. You must really be testing his patience.

“Thank you, Prof –“ “Thank me by getting to it already.”

You nod meekly, grabbing the pen and beginning to jot down the date and your name in the corner of the first page. While you’re focused on the introduction part of your essay, you miss the way that Crane folds his hands on the desk, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white. His icy gaze is focused on every twitch of your muscles, every swoop of your handwriting, every time you softly bite your lips in thought. If only you’d look up. You’d see the way his jaw is set and his pupils expand. You’d realize the situation you’re in. A bunny with its neck in the jaws of the wolf.

You’re about two thirds done with the first page when he wheels his chair around the desk, closer to yours. Once his arm brushes against you, you pause to lift your gaze, looking at him with equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“Uhm… professor? What are you doing?”

“Checking on your progress,” Is his curt reply, but he leans in even closer, staring down at your half-baked essay. “Eyes on the paper.”

You comply, getting back to writing after a short second of sorting your thoughts. It’s more difficult to write with him basically breathing down your neck, and your heart skips a beat when he scoots even closer. Despite this, you keep on writing. Until his hand lands on your thigh.

You tense, looking up at him. Your lips part, and you’re about to say something before he speaks first.

“Eyes. On. The. Paper. We’re going to simulate a stressful, distracting environment. Not unlike a lecture hall during an exam. If you can keep your cool, I’ll know you didn’t cheat.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

“Or I could fail you right now, and you’ll prove me and my suspicions right.”

Back to writing it is. Your hand is a little shakier during the next few sentences while the warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric of your skirt into your skin. But you get back into the motions, almost able to ignore him until his hand flexes and begins to wander. A shiver runs down your spine as his touch slips underneath your skirt, feeling the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“That’s it. Keep writing. Try to show me how smart you are.”

Crane’s voice is a snide whisper right next to your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep your focus on the essay. Well, at least some of it. Once his fingers brush over the crotch of your panties, your breath hitches as heat builds in your core. But you can’t even get a word in.

“Run your mouth and your final grade drops to an F. You’re on my time now, understood? Not a fucking word to anyone or else a failed class will be the least of your worries.”

You’ve never heard him curse before. The man sitting beside you, the man with his hand under your skirt isn’t the professor you’ve known throughout the semester. No, at this point, the mask is slipping and the difference is startling. Crane pushes your skirt up with one hand and your legs apart with the other, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the sight of your wet panties.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through the lace, aren’t you? I didn’t even touch you yet… Are you always this easy? Almost adorable… Keep writing for me.”

His words make your ears burn with embarrassment, and you bite down on the inside of your cheek as you get back to your essay. It’s getting harder to think. Especially once his fingers slip underneath your panties, running between your glistening folds. Crane quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves for a deliciously brief moment before he moves his hand further down to your entrance.

“Now you’re being grateful, hm? Is this what you were thinking about while everyone else was making an effort during my lectures? While everyone else was busy doing their work… you were getting worked up in your seat thinking about me. Thinking about me playing with your little cunt.”

The corners of his lips pull up into a self-satisfied grin as he plunges a finger inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s not meeting any resistance from your sweet pussy, so he quickly adds a second one. The slick noises are obscene, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide your flushed face and focus on the essay, but it’s futile. You’re writing complete and utter nonsense at this point, and he knows it. Crane scoots his chair even closer, pressing up against your side as he works his fingers inside of you, caressing that spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. As he looks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your writing, he scoffs out a laugh.

“Goodness, sweetie. That’s what your pretty little head managed to come up with so far? All this talk about wanting to prove yourself, and you deliver this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more pathetic attempt at an essay in all my years of teaching.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the harshness of his words, and the sight of it makes Crane’s cock harden in his slacks. He licks his lips, curling his fingers inside of you with a little more urgency as he leans in to whisper into the crook of your neck.

“Let out those noises. I guarantee they’re worth more than every brainless contribution you’ve ever made in my class.”

It’s an order, not a request, and you find yourself unable to keep quiet anymore as his thumb comes up to rub your clit again. Your wetness is starting to drip down onto the seat below you while you let out a breathy moan, and you begin to doubt yourself. Maybe you really are as empty-headed as he says. To your dismay, this thought only causes the tension in your core to build up even faster.

“There we go. Close to cumming from being fingered by your professor. You’re so needy, so eager for the slightest bit of attention. A toy that needs to be played with 24/7. Aren’t you ashamed?”

You let out another moan of pleasure and humiliation, clenching around his digits as he stretches you open. When did you forget how to speak?

“Trying to play in the big leagues while you’re just a dumb little fuckpet for my enjoyment,” he hisses, before he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, causing you to squeak. It hurts. But that’s the point. You’re so close to the edge, toes curling inside of your shoes. And then suddenly, he withdraws his hand. You catch a glimpse of his glistening fingers, and you turn your head just in time to watch him lick your juices off of them. He lets out a groan, satisfied by your taste.

“Get up. Hands on the desk.”

You scramble to get up, standing on wobbly legs as you bend over Crane’s desk. The professor wastes no time, grabbing onto your sopping wet panties and ripping them off of you. The fabric shreds beneath his hands, leaving your skin stinging where it cut slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, exposing your rear to him, and he moans out another sound of appreciation. His hands come up to grab onto the meat of your ass, spreading them apart to allow him a perfect view of your dripping cunt.

“Lord knows you’re not made for higher education.”

Crane leans in, licking a stripe up between your folds, and you bite down on a knuckle to keep in the pathetic moan that hangs on your lips. Your body is desperately begging you to just let him take what he wants from you, but your mind clings onto the last shred of dignity you have. When the sound of his belt being undone tears you from your thoughts, you turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Wait –“ You start, suddenly struck by the reality of it all.

Crane chuckles at the expression of wide-eyed apprehension on your face.

“You’re not braindead already, are you? What did you think was going to be the logical conclusion of this? Of course, I’m going to bury my dick in you. Fuck, if you were this tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock….”

“No, I –“

“Shh, no need to worry. Judging by your essay, you don’t have the mental capacity anyway.”

Crane roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek meets the wooden surface of his desk while he hurriedly unzips his slacks. He’s painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a relieved hiss once he’s finally freed himself. He leans over you, pressing his weight into your back and aligning himself with your tight hole before he pushes his hips forward. You’re immobilized under him, squished against the desk as he fills you with his length. Crane’s lips find your pulse, licking and nibbling at your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, shuddering from the sensation of your plush walls around his cock.

“Good girl… you’re so wet. All for me, huh? Yes… just for me.” He moans through his teeth, leaning back a little to watch as your pussy stretches around him when he begins to slowly thrust into you. You let out a soft whine in response, not quite adjusted to him yet. But if you know anything about him at this point, it’s that he doesn’t care.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot. Just relax – shh, shh, that’s it. You feel so good, squeezing me like a proper toy. All obedient and sweet… you really were built for this.“

He lifts his hand, landing a smack on your ass before he pulls out all the way and pushes back in, letting out a condescending laugh at the way you shiver. You can feel how deep he reaches, hitting every spot while he stretches you out with calculated thrusts. His pace begins to speed up, and his other hand wraps around your throat to keep you close as he pounds into you. Coherent thought becomes difficult for you, and even if you did want to say something, it’s suddenly made impossible when Crane pushes two fingers into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Needy little thing. Bent over and babbling like a whore. But you -fuuuck - you take me so well, don’t you? All tight and sopping wet for my cock to stretch you out...”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, yanking you back by your hair to make you lift your torso up from the desk. The carefully crafted persona of a calm, reasonable Professor Dr. Jonathan Crane has completely slipped from his face now and shattered by his feet like Fine China. His hands move quickly, urgently as his rhythm begins to stutter. The fingers that are now soaked with your saliva make their way back between your legs to circle your clit while his other hand leaves your hair to tear open your blouse, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

His teeth find your neck again as he grabs at your chest, kneading your soft breasts as he marks you up. Hickeys, bruises, bite marks. He leaves them behind to claim. To own. Your climax hits you like a truck, knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks you through your orgasm, not faltering for a second. Stars fill your vision for a moment, and you’re only vaguely aware of the kisses that he’s pressing to your cheek. Your walls are clenching him tightly, causing him to curse under his breath.

Crane swallows heavily, rasping into your ear between shallow breaths.

“Tell you what… No more thinking about essays. In fact, I don’t want you to think ever again. No more exams… no more studies. As if you’d ever be someone of importance in this field to begin with. No, no… I won’t let you waste your time on a silly little Bachelor’s anymore... Fuckpets like you only need to be bred. I’m gonna be generous and fuck a child into you.”

Your eyes snap wide open, and even with your cock-drunken brain, you realize just how serious he is about this. In an attempt to get away, you begin to struggle in his grasp, but he replies by kicking your legs further apart, forcing you down against the desk again. The wooden edge digs against your thighs, keeping your hips in place for him as he plows you into the piece of furniture. Your cheek is pressed up against your unfinished essay, reminding you of your failure on all accounts as you drool onto the paper.

Your hands are clawing at the desk, trying to find purchase when his own hands find yours, linking your fingers together in a frighteningly intimate gesture. Crane continues to moan your name, pressing his face into the crook of your neck before he pushes his cock as deep as he can into your poor cunt, filling you with his hot cum. He lazily rocks his hips back and forth a few more times, trying to push in his load as far as he can before he finally stills, panting against your skin. He stays on your back for another few moments, breathing in your scent and idly squeezing your hands with his.

Once his breathing has evened out once more, he straightens up, kissing the top of your head before he pulls out. Crane watches as his seed drips out of you, a glint of amusement and possessiveness in his eyes as he pushes it back into you with two fingers. You feel completely boneless, crumpled on the desk as you try to make sense of what happened and what will happen. The silence doesn’t last long before Crane speaks up again.

“In the morning, you’ll make me breakfast, and in the evening, you’ll cream on my cock. Like a proper little housewife. And I’ll get to see your tits swell and your belly expand as our kid grows inside of you,” He muses, running his hands over your shoulders and down your back, a gesture that’s more meant to ground himself than it is meant to soothe you.

His voice is soft, yet eerily determined. A man that’s planning the future out loud. Unbeknownst to you, he’s reaching into his suit pocket behind you, pulling out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

“And if you get bored again and your mind starts to wander, I’ll knock you up again and again until you know your place. Face down, ass up. Beneath me.”

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #batman begins #nolanverse #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #.moth writes

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thef1diary · 3 months ago

Text

Behave | P. Gasly

Kinktober 9/11 - Spanking

Summary: Pierre finds a new way to punish you for misbehaving

warnings: 18+ smut, spanking, pussy spanking, spreader bar, unprotected sex

wc: 4k

kinktober masterlist

“Someone needs to learn how to behave,” Pierre murmured, his voice low and rough. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the heat radiating from him, every breath fanning the embers of something wild inside you.

“Pierre,” you breathed, his name escaping your lips in a soft, desperate whisper. There’s a tremor in your voice, a quiet plea that you can’t quite articulate, as though you’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—whether it’s mercy or more of his touch. Your gaze locks onto his, wide and pleading, searching for something in the storm of his eyes.

The atmosphere is charged, electricity crackling in the air as you hold Pierre’s gaze. His expression is full of heat and mischief, the corner of his mouth curling into a knowing smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. You can sense the shift in his demeanor—playfulness giving way to something darker, more intense.

“You know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?” He said as he stepped closer, his fingertips grazing your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. “I think it’s time I teach you a lesson, ma belle.”

Pierre’s words hang in the air as he leans in to brush a kiss against the edge of your lips—just a whisper of contact that only stokes the growing heat within you, far from enough to satisfy the desire simmering between you.

Before you can chase the sensation, Pierre slips back, his departure was swift as the fleeting kiss. He settles onto the couch, reclining with a confidence that sends a thrill through your veins. His gaze never strays from you, the weight of it heavy with intent as he parts his legs, creating a space meant just for you. He holds his hand out, fingers curling in a silent command for you to come closer.

“Viens ici,” (come here) he instructed, the French rolling off his tongue, low and smooth. There’s a dark intensity in his voice, a firm edge that leaves no room for doubt—you will obey.

You take a step forward, then another, until you’re standing between his knees, your breath shallow as the anticipation coils tighter inside you. Pierre’s touch is gentle yet possessive as he grips your hips, guiding you even closer. His fingers work at the waistband of your pants, and without breaking eye contact, he eases them down, inch by inch, letting the fabric slide to the floor. The cool air brushes against your newly exposed skin, heightening the sensitivity of every inch he reveals.

“Good,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as he slips his hand around to cup the back of your thigh, his thumb grazing the curve just below your hip. His other hand traces a path over your lower back, the warmth of his palm searing through you as he guides you down, draping you over his lap with deliberate care.

The position feels simultaneously vulnerable and thrilling—his arm settles over your lower back, keeping you pinned there, while the cool leather beneath you contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from his body. His hand rests on the curve of your ass, fingers spreading slightly to caress your skin. It’s a light touch, almost teasing, that sends a shiver through you before his palm lifts.

“Count them,” he instructs, his voice deep and commanding, the tone sending a shiver through you.

Before you can even prepare yourself, his palm comes down hard against your skin, the first smack landing with a sharp crack that reverberates through the room. The sting radiates outward, spreading into a heat that blooms across your flesh as you gasp in surprise. His hand doesn’t pull away; instead, it stays there, pressing into the warm spot he’s just marked, his fingers kneading the sore skin with a touch that’s both comforting and tantalizing, making the ache linger in the most delicious way.

“One,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky as you draw in a breath.

Pierre hums in approval, the sound low and satisfied, as his hand lifts once more. This time, the blow is firmer, more deliberate, and the sting is sharper, making you let out a trembling exhale. “Two…” you whisper, feeling a wave of heat wash over you—not just from the spanks, but from the building tension winding tighter inside you.

His strikes follow a rhythm, precise and unhurried, each one calculated to draw a different response from you. As his hand lands again and again, your reactions vary—a soft gasp, a low whimper, the way your fingers clutch at the couch’s edge for something to hold on to. With each slap, you feel the warmth spreading further, the skin tingling under his touch, the heat pooling low in your belly.

Pierre’s hand drifts over the heated skin, rubbing the tender spots where the sting lingers. His fingers slip lower, tracing the curve of your thigh, barely grazing the edge of your underwear.

As his hand brushes over the fabric of your underwear, his fingertips pause for the briefest of moments. His touch shifts slightly, exploring, and he notices the dampness that’s begun to seep through the material, a subtle but undeniable sign of how his discipline is affecting you. A wicked smile curves across his lips as he presses his fingers against the growing wetness, a teasing pressure that makes your breath hitch.

“What’s this?,” he murmurs, his tone dark with satisfaction. “You’re already soaking for me.” His hand slips away just as you start to lean into his touch, and he brings it down again with a sharp swat, landing directly over the damp spot, the force sending a jolt of pleasure through you that mixes with the sting.

“Count,” he demands, his voice thick with control, his eyes watching intently as you struggle to catch your breath.

“Five,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you feel the heat building, not just on your skin, but deep inside you, the ache spreading and intertwining with the damp fabric pressed between your thighs.

Pierre’s grip tightens around the waistband of your underwear, and with a sudden, forceful tug, he pulls the fabric upward. The flimsy material digs into your skin as he shoves it between the cheeks of your ass, exposing you fully. The sensation of the fabric sliding against your most sensitive areas is a sharp contrast to the cool air brushing over the newly exposed skin, making you shiver as you feel both vulnerable and on display.

“There we go,” he says, his tone low and possessive, as his fingers trail over the freshly revealed skin. He lingers at the edges of the taut fabric, pressing it in just a bit deeper, the pressure sending tiny shocks of sensation through you. His other hand rests on the small of your back, steadying you as you shift involuntarily at the intensity of his touch.

The exposure makes each moment feel heightened, every breath you take sharper, as Pierre’s gaze and hands travel over your heated flesh. The vulnerability amplifies the ache inside you, making it difficult to hold back the tiny, involuntary sounds that escape your lips as his fingers trace the outline of your exposed curves.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice a rich rumble that sends a shiver down your spine, “five more.” His hand smooths over the exposed flesh, as if savoring the sight and the warmth radiating from your skin. “Don’t lose count or we’ll start from one,” he added, his tone laced with that same commanding edge that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can fully prepare yourself, his palm comes down again, harder this time. The smack lands with a resounding crack, the sting spreading sharply across your skin. You wince at the intensity, but the rush that follows is undeniably intoxicating, the heat blooming in waves that seem to sink deeper.

“Six,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, the numbers becoming harder to say as your body reacts to every smack, every caress that follows.

He doesn’t give you a moment to recover. His hand strikes again, the sound echoing in the room as the heat on your skin intensifies. You draw in a ragged breath, the sting blending with a swelling ache that pulses through you.

“Seven,” you manage to whisper, your fingers curling tighter around the couch, as if searching for something to ground you amidst the spiraling sensations.

Pierre’s fingers massage the tender spots, sending a shudder through you, and you almost lose yourself in that comforting sensation—until he pulls back and lands another firm smack.

“Eight…” you whispered, the sound breaking at the end, your whole body taut as the tension inside you winds tighter and tighter.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as his hand hovers over your skin, a teasing pause that makes your anticipation spike. “Two more, ma belle,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with authority and a hint of satisfaction. Then, without another word, his palm comes down again, and this time the sting is more pronounced, the sensation vibrating through your entire body.

“Nine,” you gasped, the number leaving your lips in a rush as you feel his hand rub over the heated skin once more, his touch gentle but deliberate, as though savoring your reactions.

The final strike comes swiftly, without warning, and it lands with a force that sends a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through you, making your breath hitch sharply in your throat.

“Ten,” you choked out, your voice trembling as the lingering heat settles into your flesh, and the ache inside you deepens into a craving you can’t quite quell.

After the last slap lands, your body trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering ache, Pierre’s hands slide over your skin, gently massaging the sore, reddened spots as if to soothe the stinging warmth he created. His touch shifts from punishing to possessive, his fingers tracing along your curves in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Good, you’re behaving,” he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction. “You took that so well.” His touch remains firm yet comforting, and as his fingers slip lower, teasing the edge of your underwear again, you feel his approval seep through his caresses, each one promising more yet leaving you on the edge, craving what might come next.

“But we are not done yet, mon ange,” he stated, his voice rough with desire. Before you could react, he scooped you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you into his arms. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, and the heat of his body pressed flush against yours made it impossible to ignore the pulse of need that had been building inside you.

As he carried you toward the bedroom, you couldn’t help but grind against him, seeking any bit of friction to ease the ache deep within. His cock pressed against you through the fabric, and the way you moved against him made a low groan escape his throat. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding down to cup your ass, where marks were surely forming, encouraging the movement as your hips rolled against him.

“You’re that desperate, hm?” he murmured against your ear, his voice darkly amused, yet there was a hunger in it that matched your own.

When he reached the bedroom, he pinned you against the wall beside the door, his hands gripping your thighs as he pressed his body even closer to yours. His mouth found your neck, kissing and biting with just enough pressure to make you gasp. “Look at you,” he rasped, his tone a mix of approval and possession. “Grinding on me like you can’t wait a moment longer, behaving like a bad girl again.”

His lips captured yours before you could deny his claim, before you could tell him that you’d behave for him. The kiss was rough and demanding, as if he was trying to consume every bit of your desire. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way his muscles flexed under your touch as you clung to him, and the undeniable erection pressing between your legs as you ground against him one last time before he pulled you away from the wall.

With a sudden movement, he turned and carried you the rest of the way to the bed, tossing you down onto the mattress with a mixture of gentleness and roughness that left you breathless. The cool sheets felt like a shock against your flushed skin, but before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you, his body pinning you down as he kissed you deeply, his hands already roaming possessively over your exposed skin.

As he moved above you, his chain swung between your bodies, the cool metal brushing against your heated skin with each of his movements. The feeling of the chain dangling against your chest, combined with the weight of his body and the way his mouth devoured yours, made your head spin with need.

Pierre shuffled down your body, placing a lingering kiss as he went, until he reached the hem of your panties, the dampening patch growing with each passing second. He slipped his fingers into the waistband, pulling it away in one fluid motion, tossing the sheer fabric aside like it was nothing more than a fleeting thought. He placed his hands on your thighs, spreading his fingers wide to savor the softness of your skin. His grip tightened, fingers digging into your thighs, eliciting a delicious ache that coursed through your body. With effortless ease, he parted your legs, leaving you beautifully exposed on the bed, entirely at his mercy.

His gaze instantly dropped to your pussy, the soft sheen of your desire compelling him to lick his lips, a sly smirk creeping across his face. He leaned closer, his lips inches away from your cunt. Pierre’s eyes flicked back to yours, searching for your reaction, and he found you watching him with anticipation, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

With a teasing flick of his tongue, he parted your folds, savoring the sweet taste of your arousal. He dragged his tongue through your slickness, sending a wave of pleasure cascading through you. You arched your back instinctively, the sheets beneath your clenched fist crumpling as you felt a rush of warmth radiate from deep within.

Your other hand tangled in his hair, fingers curling tightly as you urged him closer, a soft whimper escaping your lips. He groaned at the sensation, pulling back just enough to place a soft kiss on your sensitive clit, igniting a spark that made you shudder.

Just as you surrendered to the sensation, he surprised you by bringing his palm down between your thighs, slapping your cunt. The suddenness of his touch jolted you, instinctively causing you to close your legs, a reflex born from both shock and desire.

He noticed immediately, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “You can’t even keep your thighs open for me, can you?” he teased, a playful challenge lacing his voice. “If you can’t manage that, how do you expect me to believe you can be good, ma chérie?”

“Pierre—”

With a slow shake of his head, he stepped away from the bed, leaving you trembling with anticipation as he sauntered over to the closet. The cool air caressed your exposed skin, heightening your awareness of every sensation.

After a moment, he returned, and your breath caught sharply in your throat. In his hands was a spreader bar, its sleek surface gleaming under the soft light. It was crafted from polished metal, sturdy yet alluring, with two leather bands attached at either end—perfectly designed to secure your ankles in place. The sight of it sent a rush of heat flooding through you, a mixture of excitement and trepidation filling your veins.

“Maybe you’ll behave with this,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. He approached with a predatory grace, the spreader bar held confidently in his grip. You could feel your heart racing as he knelt at the edge of the bed, his expression both commanding and enticing.

He gently tugged your legs apart, adjusting your position to accommodate the spreader bar. The cool metal felt foreign against your skin, and a thrill coursed through you as he positioned it perfectly between your ankles. You gasped softly at the sensation, the way it forced you open and vulnerable to him.

With deft movements, he wrapped the soft leather bands around your ankles, fastening them snugly to the ends of the bar. Each strap tightened around your skin, anchoring you in place and amplifying the thrill of submission.

“This will keep you spread and open for me,” he purred, his gaze roaming over your body with a mixture of hunger and admiration. The realization of your vulnerability sent a rush of heat flooding through you, a mix of anticipation and desire igniting in your core.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin as he surveyed the scene before him. “Just relax and let go,” he instructed, his voice a velvety whisper that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “You’re safe here with me.”

With you secured and vulnerable, Pierre’s gaze darkened with a mix of desire and intent. He brought his palm down against your soft skin, the impact sending ripples of sensation through your body. The weight of his hand felt commanding, anchoring you in place as he explored.

“This time,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips, “you won’t be able to close your thighs.” His fingers began to trace lazy patterns along your inner thighs, the teasing caress leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The spreader bar held you open, and you could only gasp as he relished in your exposure.

As his hand came down against your pussy, the jolt of sensation shot through you like electricity. Your back arched instinctively, a desperate attempt to ease the overwhelming feeling that coursed through you. The urge to close your legs—to shield yourself from the intensity of his touch—surged within you, but the spreader bar kept you splayed wide open, a reminder of your helplessness.

“Please, please, please, Pierre,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips like a breathless mantra. Each plea was laced with need, your voice trembling as you struggled to cling to some sense of control.

“Ah, there they are,” he breathed, voice dripping with mock satisfaction as though he’d stumbled upon a lost treasure. “There are your manners.” His thumb traced your folds, dipping ever so slightly in your cunt before sliding out and nudging your swollen clit.

The way he looked at you—half-chiding, half-amused—made your pulse quicken. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he continued, “beg for me.”

His fingers worked against your pussy, spreading your folds while bringing his other hand down to slap your exposed clit. You cried out loud, his name falling from your lips over and over again, the sound a desperate plea for more.

You squirmed on the bed, the soft sheets beneath you contrasting sharply with the heated intensity of his hands. Each deliberate stroke of his thumb circling your clit sent spirals of ecstasy racing through you, drawing out breathy whimpers that filled the air. His lips curved into a smug smirk, clearly reveling in your response as he maintained his hold on the spreader bar with his other hand, effectively pinning you in place.

“Need your fingers,” you managed to mumble between your moans. “Please, Pierre.”

He chuckled softly at your pleading words, a wicked glint in his eyes that made your heart race. “Are you sure you want my fingers? Or do you want my cock?” he taunted, his fingers slowing for a moment, building the tension between you. You writhed against the bed, the desire pooling low in your belly, urging him to continue.

Your eyes widened, and a desperate string of pleas left your lips, asking for his cock.

With a knowing smirk, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for the sensation you had just experienced. He unbuttoned his pants with deliberate slowness, his gaze locked onto yours, savoring the anticipation that hung in the air between you. Each movement seemed to amplify your need, the tension coiling tighter in your belly as you watched him.

As he pushed his pants down, revealing the hard evidence of his desire, he maintained his hold on the spreader bar. The metal gleamed in the dim light, keeping your legs wide open, utterly exposed to him. This position only heightened your vulnerability and eagerness, a thrill coursing through you as you felt the cool air against your heated skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low growl filled with hunger. “So eager, so ready for me.” You could barely contain the shiver that ran down your spine at his words, your body aching for him.

With one hand gripping the bar, he leaned on the bed, his desire evident in his eyes. As he positioned himself at your entrance, the world around you faded, and all you could focus on was the anticipation of what was to come.

He thrusts into you, allowing you to take him inch by inch, each moment stretched to savor the fullness. You could feel every ridge and contour as he filled you completely, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body.

Holding the spreader bar high, he kept your legs spread wide, your ankles resting against his shoulders. This position intensified your vulnerability, leaving you utterly exposed to him, and every thrust felt deeper, more intimate. The way he held you like this made your heart race, your body arching instinctively to meet his every movement.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you, and you couldn’t help but let out breathy moans that filled the air around you.

“More,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Please, don’t stop.”

With a knowing grin, he brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing tight circles that ignited an entirely new level of pleasure. The dual sensations of his thrusts and the friction on your sensitive bud sent shockwaves through you, leaving you gasping. Your body responded instinctively, arching towards him, craving more as he skillfully kept the rhythm.

As your legs rested against his body, he delivered sharp slaps to your inner thighs, each one sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. The mix of pleasure and pain kept you teetering on the brink, every hit leaving you more breathless, more desperate for him.

When his hand finally returned to your clit, rubbing faster and harder, the pleasure surged within you like a tidal wave, building in intensity with each stroke. Your breath hitched as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you, the bed, and the intoxicating sensations he was creating.

As he continued to push you toward ecstasy, he delivered a firm slap to your clit, the sudden burst of sensation causing you to gasp sharply. That one deliberate action sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending as you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. It was a thrilling combination of pleasure and pain, driving you ever closer to the edge.

“Please…,” you managed to whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, pleading for release as your body instinctively responded to his every move.

With a final thrust and a precise flick of his thumb against your sensitive clit, you felt the world around you shatter. The climax crashed over you with an intensity that left you gasping his name, the sound reverberating in the air between you. Your body shuddered uncontrollably, waves of pleasure radiating from the core of your being, and in that moment, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure he had drawn from you. Each pulse of bliss washed over you, leaving you breathless and entirely at his mercy.

As the aftershocks faded, you couldn’t help but hope the spreader bar would see more use in the future—and if it meant you had to misbehave to make that happen, then so be it.

Taglist: @chilling-seavey @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25 @laur2608

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scarlethexelove · 4 months ago

Note

Hi hi hi idk if ur accepting requests you can delete this if not sorry but can you write a very fluffy to smut fic? Like reader sending some smexy text to Natasha and then Natasha immediately picking up the kids to put them to bed early

Thankieeee

Here We Go Again

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1553

Warnings: Reader teasing Natasha, Smut, Face Riding, Natasha has a penis, P in V, Breeding, Little bit of degration.

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

A/n: Need to give another big shout out to @wandamaximoffsbadgirl for helping me once again. Was stuck on some of the smut and brain said no. Also nonnie I hope you don't mind but I made it part 4 of Growing a Family because it worked so well with the kids and teasing.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A loud groan and a bang can be heard from the other room. You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your lips as you can most definitely tell that your wife has banged her head against her office desk. You've been slightly cruel to your wife all day. Sending multiple teasing texts just to get her riled up. This last one was of you in new lingerie. The photo was taken discreetly earlier in the day.

Though your body might not be the same after having three kids it seems to have made Nat love you even more. Your curves and plush skin make her go feral whenever you change in front of her or just wear some more revealing clothing. It’s been awhile since you two have had time to yourselves so you figured you would have some fun teasing.

Nat gets up from her office and walks right past you with a determined look in her eyes. “Baby where are you going?” She stops turning to face you. You can see that primal desire flickering within her eyes. “I called Wanda, she is taking the kids tonight for a sleepover.” She stalks closer to you and grabs your hips. She leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk and your pregnant again.” A shiver runs down your spine as a whimper escapes your lips. She smirks at your reaction before she is turning on her heels and going to round up the kids.

By the time Nat comes back you're dripping with anticipation. You’ve changed back into the new lingerie that you know you’ve already absolutely ruined. You’ve put out candles and you’re now laid out on the bed. You can hear the shuffling as Nat makes her way to the bedroom. The door swings open revealing your half naked wife, already having shed most of her clothes on her walk to the bedroom. Her already hardened cock strained against her boxers with a visible wet spot.

Nat stalks over to you on the bed. “You looks so fucking hot in this but I can’t wait to rip it off of you and destroy that perfectly little pussy tonight.” You rub your thighs together trying to get some friction as a whine falls from your lips. “Please Natty, need you.” She groans as she pulls down her boxers letting her cock spring free, kicking them off her feet as she climbs on the bed over you. She looks down seeing how your arousal has soaked through your panties and smeared against your thigh. “So fucking desperate for me and I haven’t even toughed you yet.” You nod, your lip caught between your teeth.

A loud gasp escapes you when Nat pulls down the cups of your lingerie causing your breast to spill over the top. She leans down, nipping and sucking marks onto your chest as she mumbles against your skin. “I love these perfect tits. I can’t wait to see them grow again when I fuck another baby into you.” You nod your head as you lace your fingers through her hair. “Natty please.” She smirks against your skin. “Please what detka.” She isn’t going to give it to you so easily after you have been teasing her all day. She wants to hear you beg for it.

All you can do is whine. Nat’s touch makes your mind go fuzzy. Trying to form words felt impossible, feeling her lips make their way down your body. Every nerve ending was firing off as she bit and sucked on your thighs. So close to where you needed her. “Natty please…” You reach down tugging at her. “Need you here.” You pulled her just above your clothed cunt. You've completely soaked through. Nat can see it, but more importantly she can smell it.

Nat smirks at your neediness for her. “Do you think you deserve it detka? Teasing me all day.” Her fingers grip your plush thighs. You let out a whine. “Please Natty. I'll be good.” She contemplates your pleas. Should she let you get away with all that teasing just so easily? She contemplates what to do for a moment before holding your hips down and pushing her tongue flat against you. Licking up what she can of your juices as you try and arch more. Her tongue is a mere tease over your panties. “Natty please I'm sorry I'll be a good girl!” She presses her tongue down on your clothed clit giving you just a little relief but it's not enough. You try to grind desperately for more stimulation but her grip on your hips is tight allowing no movement.

As quickly as Nat had pressure on your clit it's gone. She sits up with a devilish smirk on her lips. “Detka if you want it so bad you're going to have to work for it. I'm going to lay down and I want that pretty little cunt of yours riding my face. You want it, you do the work.” You whimper at the thought but nod in understanding. She looks at you pointedly. “Do I make myself clear?” You know what she wants. “Yes Natty.” She just needed an oral confirmation. “Good girl.” She purrs.

The two of you move positions, your lingerie being discarded on the floor as you positioned yourself just above her face. You were sure if she made you stay like this you'd drip all over her face. But you know better and you know she wants you directly on her. Her arms wrap around your thighs and pull you down when you aren't faster enough for her liking. Lapping at you like she's starved and dehydrated. Like she needs you to survive.

Nat mumbles into you. “Ride my face detka.” The vibrations sending shivers up your spine. Your hands move to grip the headboard as you start to grind down on her face. She lets her tongue stick out so that you can do all the work. Your taste is so addicting to her, if she could spend her life between your thighs she would. You would be her every meal.

You moaned out, it felt so amazing as you moved against Nat’s face desperate for release as pleas started falling past your lips, “Please Natty...please please please...need to cum need you Natty.” You looked down at her, your eyes glazed over and her own dark and hooded. “Cum, cum all over my tongue.” She speaks into you. You move your hips desperately as you feel the knot about to snap. When it does, your thighs clamp around her head as they tremble. White hot pleasure courses through you as Nat laps up every last drop of your release. Your hips slowly rut against her face as you ride out your orgasm. When you finally slow to a stop you roll off of her panting, laying down beside your wife.

You close your eyes, catching your breath when you feel Nat move and before you can do anything she's between your legs, the tip of her pushing at your entrance. “You did a good job detka, but now it's time to make good on my promise.” You gasp as she slowly sinks into you. “O-oh fuck.” You breathe out. You're already so wet she just slides right in. “Mmm fuck still so tight for me no matter how many times I fuck you. This pussy was made for me.” You moan as she bottoms out.

Nat doesn't give you much time before she is pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in. “Fuck...Natty!” You're gripping and clawing at her. Your body builds up quickly from your first orgasm. You had desperately needed this, needed her. Needed to feel her inside of you, filling you perfectly.

Nat takes your legs and presses your knees to your chest causing you to moan at the different angle. “Fuck! Such a slut for me. Sending me dirty photos just so I can fuck you. So desperate for me to fill this pussy with more of my babies.” She grunts with every thrust. You nod rapidly. “Yes! Yes! Needed it! Needed to be filled by you...fuck Natty!” You arched as much as you could. “Fuck cumming! Cumming cumming!” You moaned out, eyes screwing shut as all you could see was white and your body felt insanely hot.

Nat moans as she feels your walls suffocating her length. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her hips jerk as she cums filling you up. You don't know how but as she ruts into you her spurts of cum seem to never end. You know you teased her but you didn't expect this much. The overwhelming feeling of being so full of her has you gasping.

You had never felt so full before. A hand instinctively moving down to feel and your fingers ghost over a little bulge she's left inside of you. A small groan coming out at the feeling. Nat pants above you, moaning at your action. She leans down and kisses your shoulder. “Look how full you are of me. You'll be carrying my baby again in no time, moya lyubov.” You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. “Mmm I can't wait.”

#syd answers #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female

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aesthetically-dying101 · 24 days ago

Text

Strictly Professional

A/N: plssss i wanna write for other characters, but ill be mid draft when i suddenly get an idea for nanami, the hold this man has on me is insane. anyways i hope this is good

Warnings: smut mention? minors shoo. protected sex (wrap ur shit up), p in v, cunnilingus, light biting, nanami has erotic thoughts (lots), unpropriate workplace behavior, its all in nanamis head so idk

Minors do not interact, i will block you. Also do not copy my works.

Part two: Strictly Unproffesional

The restaurant hummed with the quiet murmur of conversation, the polished clink of glasses meeting, and the soft rustle of linen napkins. The business dinner had gone long—longer than you’d expected—but that was the way these things tended to go.

Formalities stretched into pleasantries, pleasantries into negotiations, and negotiations into half-hearted jokes exchanged over half-empty wine glasses.

You’d kept pace easily. You were good at this, after all. The art of business was one you’d mastered early—polished, professional, and persuasive. But as you sat at the far end of the table, your attention inevitably strayed to the man sitting across from you.

Nanami Kento.

The firm’s golden boy.

A man of sharp suits and sharper intellect, with a presence that commanded attention even when he wasn’t speaking. Tonight, he was quiet, his focus seemingly on his plate, but you didn’t miss the occasional glances he sent your way, nor the way his lips twitched when you made a particularly clever comment during the negotiations.

He was always like this: composed to the point of maddening, a fortress of control you wanted nothing more than to breach. You’d been paired with him for this case, a high-profile client that demanded perfection. It should’ve been a disaster—two alphas, both strong-willed, both brilliant, both stubborn—but instead, it felt... natural.

Maybe too natural.

By the time the dinner wound down, the other colleagues had started filtering out, leaving you and Nanami walking side by side through the quiet streets back to the hotel. The air was cool, crisp against your skin, and the gentle rhythm of your heels against the pavement filled the silence between you.

“Are you always this silent after a dinner?” you asked, glancing at him.

Nanami’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Only when I don’t have anything to add.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy my riveting commentary on profit margins,” you teased, unable to help yourself.

“Riveting isn’t the word I’d use,” he replied smoothly, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You're rude.”

“Efficient,” he corrected.

As the hotel came into view, you felt the dull ache in your feet sharpen with every step. The heels you’d chosen were beautiful but unforgiving, and you were certain they were leaving marks you’d regret in the morning. You tried to hide your discomfort, but the moment you stepped into the hotel lobby, the polished floors felt like punishment.

Nanami noticed.

“Take them off,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

“The heels. Take them off,” he repeated, already moving to stand closer. His brow furrowed as he glanced down at your feet. “You’re in pain.”

“It’s fine,” you lied, already regretting it as a sharp twinge shot through your arch.

Nanami sighed, a low, frustrated sound, before stepping closer—too close. His hand was warm and firm on your arm, and before you could protest, he’d crouched slightly, his other hand gently lifting your ankle to inspect it.

“Kento,” you hissed, suddenly hyperaware of the curious glances from passing guests.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered, ignoring you completely. His touch was careful but deliberate as he slipped one heel off, then the other, his thumb brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of your instep.

The contact sent a spark up your spine, actually, not just your spine.

“Let me help you to your room,” he said, rising to his full height. His tone was firm but quiet, as though it weren’t a request.

“I can walk,” you managed, your voice less steady than you’d hoped.

Nanami’s gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “You’ll hurt yourself. Don’t argue.”

Before you could form a reply, he’d placed one hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the elevator. The touch was subtle, almost innocent, but it burned through the thin fabric of your dress.

The elevator ride was silent, the air between you crackling with something unspoken. His hand didn’t leave your back, and when the elevator dinged, you swore he guided you out with just the faintest pressure.

You tried to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach, the way his scent—something clean and understated—seemed to envelop you. By the time you reached your room, your heart was beating faster than it should’ve been.

He stopped at the door, his hand still lingering as you fumbled for your keycard. When you finally unlocked the door and turned to thank him, the words caught in your throat.

Nanami was standing closer than you’d realized, his expression unreadable but his gaze fixed intently on you.

“You didn’t have to—”

“You should’ve told me,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost gruff.

“Told you what?”

“That you were in pain.”

You blinked, taken aback by the frustration in his tone.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to—”

“It’s a big deal to me,” he said.

The breath caught in your chest as his hand moved from your back to your arm, his grip gentle but firm. He was close now, impossibly close, and you could see the faint crease between his brows, the intensity in his eyes.

“Kento...” you whispered, your voice betraying the tension coiling between you-woah?? first name? Wow, way to be unprofessional.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, as if something snapped, his fingers tightened just slightly on your arm, and his lips parted like he was about to say something—something important.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, his hand falling away as he stepped back.

“Rest well,” he said quietly, his tone impossibly controlled, though his jaw was tight.

Before you could process what had just happened, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You stood there for a long moment, your heels still dangling from your fingers, your heart racing.

What just happened?

And why, despite the ache in your feet, did you suddenly feel like the floor had been pulled out from under you?

*-*

You stood in the hot spray of the shower, the steam clouding around you, but no matter how much you tried to wash away the tension, it lingered. You ran your fingers through your hair, but your mind wasn’t on the water.

It was on him.

Nanami.

His hands.

The way he’d guided you so effortlessly through the hotel. The touch of his palm on your back, the warmth of his breath near your ear. It was like the whole night had been a slow burn, one moment after another where your heart had thumped louder than your breath.

You shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts away. This is ridiculous. You needed to get some sleep. You had a big day ahead of you tomorrow. You had a case to win, and the last thing you needed was to be distracted by… him.

But the more you tried to focus on the steady rhythm of the water cascading over your skin, the more his presence slipped into your mind. His broad shoulders. The way his suit fit him, and how it had seemed like a second skin to him all night. The subtle flex of his muscles as he moved, each gesture so controlled, so precise… and yet, when he’d held you tonight, it felt like something else entirely. Like he was barely holding himself back.

You bit your lip, stifling a soft groan. No. No, no, no.

The image of his eyes, the almost frantic look he’d given you when you’d walked into your hotel room, stayed with you. He had barely said goodbye, but the tension between you both hadn’t been lost on either of you.

You were so distracted by him that you didn’t even realize your hand had slipped lower on your body. You froze, catching yourself.

Oh my God.

You quickly turned off the shower, hurriedly wrapping yourself in a towel, your heart hammering. What was happening? You liked him. That much was obvious, but… what if he didn’t feel the same? What if he was just being kind?

But something told you that wasn’t the case. His touch, his gaze… He hadn’t been indifferent. The fact that he’d insisted on helping you, and then walked away just when it seemed like things might get too heated, told you everything you needed to know.

And now, as you stood in the bathroom, trying to steady your breath, the room felt like it was full of him.

You shook your head again, stepping into your clothes. Get it together. You didn’t have time for this, not tonight.

*-*

The water streamed over Nanami’s body, cooling his heated skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in his mind. His fingers gripped the edges of the shower, the only thing grounding him, as his thoughts spiraled out of control.

Get it together, Kento.

But no matter how hard he tried, the image of you wouldn’t leave him. You, standing there in front of him, your soft breath catching when he’d helped you with your shoes. The way your eyes had looked at him—lips parted.

But that wasn’t what was really torturing him.

It was what could’ve happened.

What should’ve happened.

The way you would’ve felt if he had pulled you closer—if he had leaned in, taken control, and kissed you like he’d wanted to all night. His hands were gripping the tiles so hard his knuckles ached, his thoughts swirling faster than he could process.

He pictured it:

His mind only conjured the thought of you beneath him—no, above him.

God help him, you on top of him.

The thought made his cock twitch painfully, and he cursed under his breath.

He imagined you straddling him, your hips moving slowly, teasingly, grinding down on him with just the right amount of pressure, those perfect, full lips parted in a breathless moan, eyes locked on his.

He couldn’t breathe.

The vision consumed him. He imagined your fingers running through his hair, tugging him closer, kissing him with fevered intensity, the kiss desperate, sloppy, and raw.

His grip tightened on the tiles, the pressure building in his chest, his cock twitched painfully hard again in response to the thought of you.

Fuck, he cursed, his hand gripped his shaft as he imagined you riding him, straddling him with that knowing smirk on your lips.

The heat of your body above him, rocking in time with his breath, your hands gripping his chest as you moved, slow at first, then faster, your hips rolling over him in a rhythm that was both maddening and perfect.

It was so real in his mind that he felt like he was there with you, his hands running over your body, his mouth worshipping every inch of you.

Slow down. Slow the fuck down.

But his mind refused to.

His mind spiraled even deeper.

Nanami imagined you in the office.

God, the office. The way you’d walk past his desk with that slow, deliberate sway of your hips, eyes glancing down at him just enough to send that jolt of electricity through his body. The teasing look you’d give him, lips curling with that hint of something he knew he couldn’t have.

Then the fantasy took over.

He saw it so clearly now: you, pulling him toward you by his tie, just outside the conference room, your body pressed against his, lips claiming his in a kiss that started slow and soft but quickly turned desperate. His hands would find your waist, sliding under the curve of your blouse to feel the smoothness of your skin as his fingers dug into your flesh, hungry for more.

His fingers would grip your ass, squeezing, pulling you close as you teased him.

He could feel his cock twitching in his hand at the thought of you grinding against him, that soft friction as you leaned into him.

Fuck, he could already feel it. The way you’d gasp when he’d slip between your legs, how he’d fuck you on the desk, hard and unrelenting. You’d be so wet, so ready for him, your moans filling the room as he fucked you with a desperate need that had been building all day.

Then he imagined you on your knees in front of him, your lips wrapping around his cock, eyes looking up at him, so pretty.

He imagined taking you in every possible position, fucking you on your knees, on your back, over him, against him, in every inch of his bed. Nanami’s mind raced faster, the images intensifying, the fantasies more sinful than before. He’d make you cum over and over, until you couldn’t remember your own name, until your body was trembling in his arms.

His grip tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears as he imagined how good it would feel to bury himself inside you, your body squeezing around him as he fucked you over and over, your name spilling from his lips as he came, coating you with everything he had.

God, just the thought of it.

His hand moved faster, the images in his head taking on a life of their own. He could feel your body against his, that intoxicating mix of heat, skin, and raw need.

He was spiraling, losing himself completely to the image of you..

Every position, every scenario, all of them far more scandalous than the last.

He could feel you writhing beneath him, your hands clawing at his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked you deep, slow, and rough.

The thought of you wasn’t just physical, though.

No.

Nanami wanted more.

He imagined you in his life—every single day. The way your body would feel next to his in the mornings, the smell of coffee and pancakes filling the apartment as you’d move around the kitchen, your hands brushing against his, your breath hot against his ear as you laughed together.

The kitchen table would be covered with papers—contracts, forms, both of you working late into the night. But then he’d reach out for you, his hand slipping down your back as he pulled you into him. He’d kiss you—slow, torturously slow, before everything would spiral out of control, his hands pushing you onto the table, his cock deep inside you as you gasped and moaned for him.

The thought of waking up next to you, the weight of your body tangled with his, your soft sighs as you stretched beneath him—he could almost feel it. The heat of your body next to his. His hands skimming down your back, over your hips, your thighs. He imagined taking you in his bed, over and over, each time with a new hunger, a new intensity.

He wanted it all.

You.

His fantasies were a chaotic, uncontrollable flood of lust and longing. He couldn’t help it. He was completely whipped for you.

So goddamn whipped.

But it wasn’t just the sex.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how deeply he craved you, how utterly consumed he was. He pictured you, soft and warm in his arms, every inch of you becoming his. Nanami imagined running his hands over your body, tasting every part of you, exploring each inch as you melted beneath him.

His cock was leaking by now, furiously so.

But then it wasn’t just the bedroom. It was everywhere. The office. His kitchen. The goddamn shower he was standing in now. He imagined pulling you in here with him, your body slick and warm, your breasts pressing against his chest as his hands explored every part of you.

He’d sink to his knees, worshiping you properly, his mouth tasting places he’d dreamed about for weeks.

“Fuck,” he groaned again, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself.

Every thought, every breath, every beat of his heart belonged to you. He wanted you in ways that defied reason, in ways that scared him, in ways that made him wonder how he’d ever survive without you.

Nanami groaned, his thumb slid over the head of his cock, he was about to burst-

knock, knock.

The sound jolted him, breaking through the haze of his fantasies. He froze, water still dripping down his face, his heart pounding in his chest. The knock came again, louder this time, more insistent.

For a moment, he stood there, caught between reality and the overwhelming need still coursing through him. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, his breath uneven.

Who the hell…?

He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist, the cool air doing nothing to calm him. The tension still thrummed in his veins, but as he moved toward the door, a different thought took hold.

What if it was you?

*-*

You stood outside his hotel room door, hands balled into fists at your sides, trying to summon the courage to knock again. It was late—so late—and you knew this wasn’t professional. But you couldn’t stop yourself. Not after the way he’d made you feel tonight, the way your chest had tightened with every small touch, every glance.

And, if you were honest, the thought of lying awake in your room all night, haunted by the tension simmering between you, felt unbearable.

You knocked once more, your heart racing. A moment later, the door opened, and—

Oh.

Oh, God.

Nanami stood there, a towel slung low around his hips, water droplets sliding down his chest. His damp hair clung to his forehead, a single strand falling into his golden-brown eyes. And those eyes—they locked onto you, wide and startled for a split second before softening into something unreadable.

Your brain short-circuited.

Focus. You’re here for a reason. A perfectly innocent, rational—

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you immediately slapped both palms over your eyes. “I didn’t see anything. I’m not looking. I swear. You’re safe.”

The sound that escaped him was halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“You’re at my door in the middle of the night, but I’m the one who needs to feel safe?”

You felt the heat flood your cheeks, mortified. “I just… I couldn’t sleep, and I—”

“You what?” His voice was low now, so soft you barely heard him.

You swallowed hard, your hands still glued to your face.

“I needed to talk to you. About tonight. About… us.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, before you could process what was happening, you felt his warm hand circle your wrist. He gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable—those piercing eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to piece you together.

“I…” You hesitated, your voice shaking. “I can go if this is—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, stepping aside to let you in. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a quiet intensity to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

You stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind you.

A/N: i think this is the equivalent of a word vomit cause this makes such little sense, anywyas i hope it was still somewhat enjoyable, maybe a part two? ill see

masterlist.

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umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken · 12 days ago

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'But Tamlin’s temper had always been his downfall. Any bad day could have produced the gouge marks. Perhaps today would produce more of them.'

(ACOFAS, p.73 ch.11) -> going off of pdf copy

And yet Rhys needed to sexually assault Feyre night after night UTM to piss Tamlin enough to kill Amarantha? The math ain't mathing 🤔

#tamlin #pro tamlin #anti rhysand #anti feysand #feyre archeron

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 8 months ago

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[5:21 pm]

(cw: a child, reader is called "mama")

"Okay, where is your nose? Nose?" you asked the 20 month old sitting across from you.

His tiny finger came to his nose and lightly placed his finger on the tip. "Good job, my love! Where are your toes?" You asked with a smile.

Dad!Mark was laid out on the couch watching you and your son play on the carpet in front of him. He smiles watching his son smile brightly when you praised him with a happy voice and matching smile. You'd both been doing this for a while since your son woke up from his nap.

As cute as it was, Mark was bored. You both had some errands you needed to run but the baby was fussy and moody all morning. Mark had been able to slip out of the house to run the errands while you stayed behind, but came back and immediately fell back into the feeling of cabin fever. If he laid on the couch longer, he'd fall asleep, he'd wake up, it would be late, and it would feel like the day was wasted.

"And where's Papa?" You asked.

His son's eyes were set on him, a bright smile sent his way with an excited cheer of "Papa!"

"Yes! Good job, baby. Where's Mama?" You asked.

Mark smiled at his son, his voice overlapping yours in a tired groan, "Dude, let's go to the p-a-r-k. I need to get out of the house."

His son's face became the cutest little face of confusion he'd ever seen before his eyes lit up and his pointer finger pointed at you, "Dude!"

You went silent, Mark gulped. Then you turned to Mark with a look of anger he was unfortunately becoming more familiar with as his son got older. If your eyes could shoot lasers, he was sure his head would have already been melted off his body. If you could produce steam, it would be coming out of your ears like in the cartoons.

He sat up in a panic, "it was a mistake! I didn't think he was actually listening to me!"

You stood up, hoisting your son onto your hip, "No, you do know he listens because you got in trouble last week for saying s-h-i-t and your son copied you."

Mark followed you back to the nursery and kept a watchful eye on your son who was now on the floor while you pulled some clothes out for him. "But this one isn't even as bad!" Mark whined, sending you puppy eyes- which were useless since your back was to him.

"I don't want our son to call me dude, Mark!" You whined back.

He pouted, processing your words. He guessed you were right. He wouldn't want the baby to call him dude either, he loved being his Papa.

You sat on the floor, wrangling your son into his clothes to go out and out of his onesie. Mark sat behind you, wrapping his arms around his waist. He pressed a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, "I'm sorry. I'll be more mindful of the words I use around the baby. Do you forgive me, babe?"

His son laughed, babbling to himself before he pointed at you with an excited, "Babe!"

You exhaled tiredly with a light shrug of your shoulders, "I can work with that. Watch him while I go change for the p-a-r-k."

Mark followed your son back to the living room, watching as his son crouched down to pick up some blocks. "Hey buddy, are you so excited for the park?"

His sons eyes widened excitedly, "go now? Park now? Now?"

You stepped out of the room, dressed to go out with the diaper bag on your shoulder and your son's water bottle in hand, "Today is such a learning day for you, Papa. Are you remembering why we spell certain words now?"

"Go now? Park now? Go?"

Mark hoisted the toddler over his shoulder, tickling his round belly to get him to laugh as a distraction, "Yes, buddy. Let's go."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee timestamps #dad!nct

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soelstress · 4 months ago

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Take Charge

Happy Friday Lovelies! First of all, I’m absolutely blown away by the responses I’ve had to A Shot Of You & Silent In The Library. Thank you so much for liking and sharing, it means so much to me 🥹

I’m currently working on several pieces (quite a few Bucky themed which I hope will please some of you) and four entries for two writing challenges.

I’ve been writing lil fan fic snippets on and off for about 14 years now but never shared anything. Earlier this year I started watching Law and Order SVU… and the plot bunnies haven’t left me alone since. This is the first piece that was more than a few a paragraphs and my first real smut piece.

Pairing: Elliot Stabler x female!reader

Summary: You help Elliot deal with the stress of his work

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , explicit sex / smut , p in v sex , unprotected sex , some language , oral sex (male receiving) , vaginal fingering

A/N - Do not steal, copy or plagiarise any part of my work. Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings.

You woke with a start. The room was dark, curtains preventing moonlight or street lights from invading. Taking a deep breath, you tried to discover what ripped you awake.

“No…”

You felt Elliot behind you. He moaned again, the sound desperate and pained. You reached over to turn on a lamp, the soft light illuminating the room but not bright enough to rouse Elliot. Shifting, you saw his body was taut and his hands gripped the sheet beneath him.

You slowly reached out to touch his shoulder. The next moment you found yourself pinned to the bed. Elliots eyes were open, blank and unfocused. He had your hands clamped at the wrists, squeezing tightly. You whimpered at the pain but tried to remain calm, knowing that fighting him could make things worse as he was stronger than you and unaware of the pain he was unintentionally causing.

“Elliot” you murmured softly, watching his face closely. He froze, not moving but not loosening his grip either. “Elliot wake up” you said in a firm clear voice.

Blue eyes found yours, the haze of sleep slowly lifting. “Honey?” He frowned in confusion. “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare”.

Blinking, he shifted to move but stopped when he noticed where his hands were. He knelt back carefully, loosening his grip and examined your wrists which currently showed no marks but you knew bruises would form from his tight hold. He rubbed them gently then looked at you. “I’m so sorry” he said hoarsely. Standing, he began to pace the room. Tension settled over him as he rubbed his face.

“It’s not your fault, El. You were dreaming”. Your heart broke to see him so troubled. “Please, come back to bed”.

Shaking his head, he headed out the door wearing only his boxers. “Give me a few minutes”

You sighed internally. His work in the Special Victims Unit had an effect on him, sometimes leading to restlessness or anger but nightmares rarely occurred. Elliott could only reveal the vaguest details about his cases but seldom did so, saying he didn’t want to scare you and that it was his burden to handle. You cursed his father for the zillionth time out of annoyance. His words and actions had led to a negative impact on Elliot, preaching that only the weak showed emotion and that Elliot was a failure.

You glanced at the clock and realised that Elliot had been gone for 30 minutes, but hadn’t returned. Concerned, you slipped on the button-up shirt Elliot wore earlier and walked down the hall to the room that you used as an office and where Elliot kept his weights. Grunting and soft curses filled the air as you approached. Elliot raised and lowered the barbell, flexing like a well oiled machine as you stood in the doorway watching. Though he was panting and sweating he showed no sign of slowing down. You were about to make him aware of your presence when he raised the barbell onto the rack and sat up breathing heavily.

“It’s not working” he said. “I have this energy and it’s not going anywhere”. His gaze was on the floor. “I pinned the perp to the wall in the interrogation room. I squeezed, trying to make him feel some of the hurt he’s caused…” He looked up, pain on his face. “And I wake up to find I’m hurting you”. Standing, he slowly walked over and stopped in front of you. He opened his arms in cautious invitation. You stepped forward into his familiar and comfortable embrace. “I’m still in interrogation mode and I can’t stop”. Restless, he ran his hands up and down your back. “I need to take control” he murmured, his hot breath blowing against your ear.

A shiver of desire ran through you at his words and the feeling of his body against yours. You reached for his hand, gently placing it against your throat.

“So be in control”.

Though the words were whispered he heard them clearly. Elliot pulled back to look at you. He tried to remove his hand but you kept it still.

“Baby?”

“I think this is what you need right now”.

His eyes never left yours as he inhaled deeply. “It’ll be rough”.

Longing filled you. “I like rough.” Holding his hand in place, you used your free hand to reach between your bodies. Before you could do much more than brush your fingers against his boxers he grabbed your hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I trust you, El”

He flexed his fingers around your throat, pressing just enough to show the strength he possessed. You were at his mercy. Bending forward, he guided you to kneel on the floor. Straightening he pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them. He was rock hard and your mouth grew wet wanting to taste him.

“Suck me”. Without hesitating, you slowly slipped him in your mouth and began to work him, running your tongue up and down. “Good girl” he growled. You looked up to see his head thrown back. His hands wove into your hair, guiding you as his thrusts sped up. “Suck me harder. I want to fuck your mouth”

Moaning at his words, you placed your hands on his thighs and increased your efforts. “Yes” he hissed. Whimpering, you took him all the way into your mouth and felt him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes locked with his as you let out a loud moan. “Fuck babe, I’m gonna cum”. Growling, he gripped your hair firmly and worked through his orgasm using your mouth. You swallowed and licked him clean before kissing his tip.

Elliot pulled you to your feet and captured your mouth in a ferocious kiss. Dazed, you didn’t notice he was moving until your back pressed to a wall, his hand cushioning the back of your head.

Nipping at your lower lip, he soothed the sting with his tongue. Trailing down, he licked and nipped his way from your lips to your jaw and up to your ear. He tugged the lobe and you moaned.

“You like that, baby?” The hand supporting your head wrapped in your hair and he pulled. He nipped at your exposed neck and at the same time you felt a feather light touch - his fingers gliding over your sex. He slipped a finger between the folds, avoiding your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re soaking for me” Grinning wolfishly he suddenly plunged two fingers inside, making you cry out at the unexpected and furious sensation.

“Please” you begged him.

“You’re so wet, can’t wait to have my cock inside you”. His thumb slowly massaged your clit, contrasting to the speed and roughness of his fingers.

“Elliot” you moaned, your fingers rose to the base of his neck and scratched his scalp. His ministrations sped up, a familiar heat rising in your belly.

“I know sweetheart. I feel your hot wet pussy squeezing my fingers… come for me honey”

Moaning his name you exploded and pulled him closer. He gave you a moment to recover and leant back. A small part of you thought “Cocky bastard” at the look on his face but there was no denying the man had skills. You wanted more of him.

Elliot removed his fingers, soaked in your arousal. He started to raise them to his lips but you captured his hand. Eyebrow cocked, his eyes locked with yours as you licked and sucked them clean. Moaning, you nipped each finger tip and kissed them. His eyes darkened with lust. Breathing heavily, he reached for the shirt you wore and ripped it open sending buttons flying. Impatiently, he pulled it off and bent you over the desk. You gasped at the cold on your overheated body. He nudged your legs wider apart, one hand keeping you flat on the desk while the other guided his cock to your entrance. He slammed into you. “Fuck” he groaned as you cried out. He stilled for a moment. “Baby?”

“You’re so deep. Fuck me El” you moaned.

He spanked you.

“You telling me what to do?”

“No”. His palm connected with your other cheek, the sting paling in comparison to your desire. “Please fuck me. I wanna feel your cock pounding into me”

He pistoned his hips, his cock moving deep within your body. You took him, aroused by his movements and his growled words. “You’re so hot and wet, I can feel you soaking my cock… I’m gonna make you feel so good… squeeze my dick, make me come…”. Moaning loudly, your insides began to quiver. The hand pressed to your back moved around to your throat. Gently squeezing he guided you upright with your back flush to his chest, head on his shoulder. “Come on honey, I want to feel you come on my cock”

You gasped as his fingers circled your clit. “Fill me up baby, I want to feel you cum inside me”. His fingers flicked your nub. “Elliot!” You writhed as the orgasm rolled through your body.

Elliot slammed into you twice more, stilling with a shout. “Oh shit - baby!” Spent, you started to fall forward but he held you tighter, one arm propped on the desk for support. He slowly pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of contact. Elliot turned you around, his cerulean eyes searching your face. The agitation had left him, nothing but love and gratitude softening his expression. He planted a chaste kiss on your lips. Leading you to the bathroom, he tenderly cleaned both of you. Softly, he applied bruise cream to your wrists and kissed them. In the bedroom, he put on another pair of boxers and offered you one of his t-shirts.

“I like when you wear my shirts” he said with a small smile. He climbed into bed.

Snorting, you slipped the t-shirt on and crawled in beside him. “I can tell by the way you ripped it off me”. He grinned and pulled you down to lay on his chest. “Shame though, I liked that shirt on you”.

“I’m sure the buttons can be sewn back on. Or I’ll just buy a new one”. You heard the amusement in his voice. there was a pause before he inhaled deeply. “Baby?” Curious, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you”. He kissed you deeply and you reciprocated, pouring all your love and affection for him into it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You laid down, hearing the steady thump of his heart. Feeling his arms wrap securely around your torso, you silently swore to always be his safe place, as he was yours.

#elliot stabler x reader #Elliot stabler x you #elliot stabler #law and order svu #law and order fanfiction

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punishereditz · 8 months ago

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Claim Your Prize

Pairing: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Unprotected sex. P in V. So, SO much dirty talk. Hair pulling. Knife play. Spanking. Marking. Praise kink. Creampie.

AN: *Monkey noises*

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: You made the mistake of making a bet over Pool with Jake. Or was it?

Two bottles of wine, three boxes of 6 pack beer, two boxes of pizza, board games and stupid college games, it was only you and Jake left at the party. Your house was quiet now. The only noise you could hear was your heartbeat pounding. The stare Jake had on you making you flustered. You had to do something to distract yourself.

"Wanna make a bet?" You stood up. Sitting your glass of wine down and making your way over to the pool table.

"What's the bet?" He said curiously after a moment of watching you. Then walking over to you.

"If I win..." You paused. Thinking of what you could possibly get out of him. "You buy me whatever I want."

Jake chuckled at that. "And if I win?" He said flirtatiously.

"You can have whatever you want." Jakes smile turned into a wicked grin as he knew exactly what he wanted.

"You're on." And so it begins. From you to him. You took your turns in the game. With each turn, his stare got stronger on you. His eyes stuck on you as it was down to you and the 8 ball. You took a deep breath. Trying to focus and steady your hands. Then, you took the shot. The ball going in. But then... the cue ball went in as well.

"Shit." You whispered. Your eyes slowly looking up at Jake. His tall figure standing over you. A mischievous smile on his lips. "So..." You leaned off of the pool table. Cue stick still in your hand. "What do you desire Hangman?"

Jake sighed and he sat his cue stick down, then he slowly walked over to you. Taking your cue stick and sitting it down as well. His hand gently grabbed your waist, and he moved you to the other side of the pool table. You held your breath. Not knowing what he had planned. His hands moving to your arms. His eyes taking in every little detail of your body right now. Then, he leaned closer. His lips almost touching your ear. His breath on your ear. Making a chill run down your spine.

"I desire you." He whispered in your ear. Your breath hitching and your cheeks flushing with a bright red shade. At this moment, you couldn't form any words. Only watch as he leaned back. His grin growing at the sight of your blush.

"Then claim your prize." You whispered. His grin turning to a smile, and he turned you around. Your back to his chest. His bulge against your ass. His hands rested on your hips. He placed gentle kisses up your neck until he stopped at your ear. "It' okay if I be rough?" He whispered in your ear. That southern accent just making you wetter. You nodded. But when you did, he grabbed you by the throat.

"Use those words sweetheart." He put light pressure on your neck. "Yes." You muttered. Following his order.

"Atta girl." He said before he pushed you down on table. He looked down at you bent over the table. Then his hand came down on your ass. Softly yelping. He pushed your dress up. Groaning at the sight of your ass in a blue lace thong. "So pretty." He mumbled under his breath.

His hands messaging your ass. Then he slapped it again. A pleasured moan leaving your lips. He did again and you moaned again. He could see how much you were enjoying this, and that made him smile. "You like this, don't you?" He asked teasingly and when you didn't answer, he spanked you again. This time a little harder.

"Yes. I... love it." You finally spoke. Your breath heavy. "Such a good little slut." Between his dirty words and the spanking, the wetness between your legs were growing. And things weren't much better for Jake. His cock was throbbing in his jeans, and he couldn't take it much longer. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and cut the small fabric of your thong. Running the cold blade over your ass before he put it back into his pocket. Taking the cut fabric and pulling it off of you. His hands sliding down your ass and to your pussy. His finger rubbing up and down your cunt.

"So wet for me." He rubbed circles on your clit as he took his pants off. Freeing his cock. He replaced his hand with his cock. Pressing the head of it into your entrance. His hands holding your hips. He thrusted his cock deep into you. Having you take all of him. The both of you moaning.

"That's it. That's my good girl. Taking my cock so well." He said as he started thrusting into you. Pounding into your cunt. His hands digging into your hips. He slapped your ass as he fucked you. Your ass turning red. Your walls clenching around him. Making his cock throb. He grabbed you by the hair and he pulled you back. Making you sit up. He started to pound faster.

"Why did you make the bet?" He asked. "So I could do this?" His movements didn't let up and his grip on your hair didn't either.

"I-" You tried to speak, but you couldn't. You were trying so hard not to cum yet. "I was trying... to, to distract myself." You said through choked moans.

"Distract yourself from what?" When you didn't answer, he pushed you back down on the table. Slapping your ass. Lightening up his thrust just enough for you to be able to form words.

"Y-you." You moaned and he bit back a grin. He laced his fingers into yours and he leaned over. His body pressed to yours. "Why's that sweetheart?" He whispered. Trying to push you further.

"Because... be- because I co-couldn't stop having d-dirty thoughts a-a-about you." You said through moans, and he smiled.

"Atta girl." He pulled out of you, and he raised you up off of the table. Turning you around. He grabbed your face, and he kissed you deeply. Gripping at your dress. He pulled away and pulled your dress off of you. His hands immediately going to your breast. Messaging them. He then picked you up. Sitting you down on the pool table.

You laid back and hangman pulled the bra down enough so that your breast were out. Then he slammed his cock back into you. His hands gripping your thighs. His cock twitching at the sight of your breast bouncing. His cock twitching again when your walls clenched around him. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head and it getting impossible for you to hold your moans back. You could feel your stomach twisting and your head whirling. You were getting so close to your climax.

"I'm so close. Jake!" You moaned his name loudly and squeezed your eyes shut. He grabbed you by the throat. Making you look at him. "Go ahead and come on my cock." You did exactly that. Your climax making you scream and making your legs shake and jerk. Your back arching off of the table.

It was getting too much for Jake, and he thrusted into you hard as he came in your cunt. His cock throbbing as he filled you up. Slowly pulling out. His and yours cum dripping out of you.

"Guess we both win." He looked down at the cum pouring out of your cunt. Then he looked up into your eyes with a mischievous smirk. "But I'm not done with you yet." He threw you over his shoulder. Carrying you to your bedroom.

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erenjaegerwifee · 6 months ago

Text

Brat Tamer

Survive the Night: Day 4

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ hate fucking, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, degradation, rough sex, explicit language, fingering, p in v, overstimulation, bondage, slightly jealous Neteyam, begging, slapping, spitting, blowjob, marking, mentions of blood, facial, this is consensual sex! It’s just very rough

Word Count: 5.4k

Disclaimer: all my characters are aged-up! If for whatever reason this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read my work. Any negative feedback will be blocked from my page. thank you!

Event Masterlist

“Oh, please Neteyam spear me” you roll your eyes at your future mate. For some reason Eywa thought it would be a good idea to make Tsahik conjure up a vision of you and Neteyam being a mated couple a ruling the clan together, with all your non-existent babies, apparently the number is yet to be determined.

“Can you just back off and let me hunt princess? I’m more than capable of feeding a psycho shrew such as yourself” he said condescendingly. “You are so fucking full of yourself; we could have been eating an hour ago if you didn't scare away my prey with your fucking wheezing”

“You whacked me in the stomach with your bow what the fuck were you expecting me to do” his comment makes you laugh at the memory, “it’s not my fault you're a bitch, take that shit up with your daddy” you smile at him wickedly when Lo’ak spoke up, “damn just fuck already, end your misery” he said to both of us.

“Shut up Lo’ak go home, you aren’t even helping” Neteyam said to his brother while you were making fake gagging sounds at his comment, “yuck- I don’t want this man anywhere near me, let alone fucking me” you gag again making Lo’ak laugh. “You know, you talk a big game for someone who has never seen a dick” Neteyam looks directly at you.

You turn around looking for whoever he’s talking to with such audacity, settling with the fact he must be talking to himself, “are you calling me a virgin? Cause I can assure you I’ve had hotter sex than you that’s for sure” you cross your arms over your chest looking at him smugly.

“How do you know I don’t have hot sex princess?” Neteyam copies your action crossing his own arms over his chest. “Uhm well let’s see, firstly I don’t think it's possible to have good sex when you have a stick that big up your ass and also, you’ve never fucked me” you flip your hair over your shoulder sassily.

“Whatever you pompous bitch” Neteyam walks off bow in hand with every intention of catching your dinner. “You are such a fucking goblin” you tail behind him leaving Lo’ak laughing on the floor.

Lo’ak isn’t the only person who catches kicks off your misery. The entire Sully family laugh at you from time to time. They have a front seat row to the drama that is you and Neteyam. When your mate ship was announced both your families joint together to build you a hut, the first hut you will be living in together. Since it is a known fact you are always at each other’s throats, they built it right next to the Sully family hut. But it was only in case they had to break up one of your numerous fights. The sully family tends to hear everything that goes on in your hut, every small argument you have, every altercation that turns into a screaming match between you too.

You and Neteyam sleeping on same sleeping mat but he made sure it was big enough so you won’t have to touch each other, even going as far as to build a pillow wall. Even while your families both know you don’t get along, the rest of the clan, besides close friends, do not know. They are well under the impression you and Neteyam are very much in love, we couldn’t have the clan losing trust in the leadership, it would just be another problem. It’s one of the only things you both agree on.

Clan members have been congratulating you both since the announcement, they bring loads of gifts like things for your hut, some of the older women have taught you to make things for our future husband, teaching you how to repair his arm guards and cummerbund, making loincloths, which sometimes you do occasionally have to do. They even go as far to bring you both food.

Neteyam is set to take up the mantle of Olo’eyktan in 3 months which is when you will also ascend to Tsahik alongside him. You are meant to be mated before that happens which is why you’ve already moved in together; you are meant to get used to living with each other to avoid slip ups.

For something that was sprung on both families, they have done extensive planning to make sure you become accustom with each other, almost as if they expected it. Never the less, you both have now settled into a routine of sorts. You both wake up around the same time and you make breakfast or one tired morning, go to the sully hut and you eat there. Then You get ready for you clan duties all done while bickering with each other about small things like usually. After that you both go out into the clan playing happy couple.

At dinner time you usually are the one to cook whatever he brings home from his hunt during the day. If neteyam wasn’t so infuriating you would have thought about how domestic it was, how much you would have loved a life like this. A loving husband, a few kids.

“You what, if you would just sit still for a few minutes, I could catch us some fucking dinner” neteyam says in an irritated tone. “Don’t curse on my dinner I have to eat it” You counter, “No sweetheart the real curse is eating your cooking” you gasp dramatically at him comment, your hands come over your heart, “you love my cooking you blue ape, don’t fucking lie.” you point at him.

“Can you just sit here and shut the fuck up so we can go home, I’m about to leave your annoying ass out here and spend the night at my parents” he rolls his eyes at you, ignoring your cooking comment because he knows you’re right. “UGHH FINE” you dramatically drop down on the rock that was conveniently situated behind you.

“Ugh fine” he mocks you sassily his voice is pitched and his hands sway in the air as he turns around making you roll your eyes. You wouldn’t tell him this, but neteyam is a good hunter, it shouldn’t take him that long to catch dinner. In the mean time you sit quietly on the rock making flower crowns from the nearby flower tree.

When he comes back you both go home and you make dinner, “It’s kind of early can’t we just eat after the party?” you ask him after you are done cooking. “No, the food will get cold” you sigh not feeling to flight with him about it and you bicker about what you should wear for Lo’ak’s birthday party.

At the party you and Neteyam split up to mingle with your respective friends and not have to deal with each other all night long, you dance and laugh while slipping from your cup of very strong alcohol. When you start to feel high you get a tap on your shoulder making you turn around.

“Hey y/n where is your husband?” you make eye contact with one of Neteyam’s hunting buddies, At’ok. “Hey um I don’t know he was around here somewhere” you shrug thinking he was just looking for Neteyam. Your future mate has grown to dislike the man quite a bit with the way he constantly stares at you, under no condition is he admitting to liking you but at the end of the day, you will be his wife and its naturally disrespectful for him to try getting with another man’s girl.

“Oh, good cool- you wanna dance?” you know he likes you; you also know Neteyam doesn't like him, it’s a win-win situation. What is neteyam gonna do? Divorce you? You aren’t mated yet and he’ll have to take that up with Eywa first which is essentially impossible. “Sure” you smile brightly at him.

You grab ahold of his hand and move towards the other dancing na’vi, you sway your hips against him and his arms wraps around you swaying in sync. He turns you around and you throw your hands over his shoulders and that’s when you feel the burning stare. You know it all too well, you have experienced this too much times to not know. You pay no mind to him though as you listen to at’ok whisper how beautiful you look in your ear making you giggle and smile at him.

If Neteyam treated you half as good as this, it wouldn’t be so difficult to live with him, you could make a lot of things in his life easier if he’d just be a little nicer to you, but apparently you are so hard to get along with, the woman who makes sure he has clean clothes and his warrior gear is intact, who cooks for him and cleans his living space. You are so fucking hard to live with.

His hand moved down while he leaned back a bit closer to your lips and tilted his head as if he was gonna come in closer, his hand slid down your back and rested lowly on your hips. You wanted to kiss him honestly, but you got interrupted by a harsh tug on you bicep, pulling you away from At’ok’s warmth.

“You don’t have any fucking shame, do you? The next time I see your hands on my wife- the next time you even look in her direction I'll fucking kill you” Neteyam’s voice was deadly calm, it made shivers run down your spine at how scary he sounded, but you would show no weakness. As soon as he was dragging you in the direction of your shared hut you started throwing a hissy fit, “What the fuck Neteyam we were dancing-”

“Dancing?! You were dancing with someone who isn’t your fucking husband like that? Of please y/n” you rip your arm from his grasp, “what the fuck is your problem-” he didn’t wait for you to finish he just interrupted you again. “You, you are my fucking problem, I thought we agreed, the best interest for the clan is you stay in your fucking lane as my wife and I stay in mine as your husband”

“You are not my husband yet and-”

“Three weeks, just three more weeks you couldn’t keep your legs closed three more weeks? Then after that I knock you up and you could fuck whoever you want. We only need one” His voice sounds stranded, Neteyam has been pissed off before but even you have never managed to make him this mad.

“Jeez everything is not about you and what you want! Maybe I miss having sex! Maybe I’m horny and I wanna have some relief! Did you ever even considered the possibility that I don’t want to have to wait anymore? It's been months since the last time I felt a man and it’s all your fault!” you shout at him.

“You are such a slut you couldn’t wait a couple fucking weeks? You don’t think I feel the same way? Have some fucking self-control! Why should you get to fuck anything that walks while I have to stay loyal and be content with nothing?!” he shouted back to you in the same tone, truthfully it made you kind of turned on the way he spoke to you but your irritation outweighs that right now.

“I have been loyal you asshole, I haven’t let anyone near me in months! Besides I've been so fucking tired making you sure have properly cooked food and that YOUR hut is cleaned and that YOU LOOK PRESENTABLE WHEN YOU GO OUT IN PUBLIC! And this- THIS is what I get for it? I’m a slut?” your tail thrashes around as you scream at him, your hands push his body backwards and you yank on the braid that falls over his ear in front his face.

What you don’t expect after your outburst is Neteyam’s smug laughter filling your ears. You look up at his face seeing his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. He suddenly bends his body forwards resting his hands on his knees holding himself up as he laughs.

“What’s so fucking funny?” you tail twitches angrily your arms crossed over your chest pushing up your tits slightly. His laughter dies down and his head raises to look at you, a smug smirk sits on his face.

“Nothing, it’s just- you are so fucking difficult to please. Eywa could have given me anyone, ANYONE in this ENTIRE clan. But she chooses you? The cock hungry slut that can’t even be bothered to say thank you after all the effort I put in to make this mate ship work. All you want is to fuck! You know if you wanted cock so bad, you should have just fucking asked for it” his voices drop a couple octaves when says his last sentence.

You were about to protest but get cut off by him grabbing your bicep harshly once more, pulling you towards your hut, “Ah ah- shut the fuck up I don’t need to hear more” he continues to cut you off until you are at your door step where he opens up the flap widely and shoves you in, you stumble but catch yourself before you fall.

“Neteyam what the hell-” his large hand met the back of your neck easily, putting pressure on your kuru while pulling you straight up to stabilize you. “You know, you look real pretty tonight, this the one I made you” he toyed with the flowers hanging from the rope of your top. Frankly, you feel a bit nervous of what he might do right now, opting to not sass him, he’s never been this rough with you, or at all so you simply nod your head.

“You have been such a pain in my ass since I could remember and now, you’re gonna be my wife. Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners,” Neteyam lets go of your neck and closing the flap behind him and taking off his cummerbund and arm guards. “Take it off.” His voice is deep, makes you shiver.

You stand still not sure if you should listen to him or not, you really did it today huh? “Don’t make me come over there” he says glancing at you as he puts away his stuff neatly. He stretches his muscular arms and broad shoulder while he watches you still not move at all.

“Y/n why don’t you ever just listen, I'm giving you what you want and you listen won’t listen to me!” His voice sounds stranded once more as he tries to get through to you. He sighs before walking up to you a ripping the top off your body. It was one of your prettier tops so it made you upset when he ruined it, you watch the pretty petals fall to the floor exposing you.

You gasp and brought your hands up to cover your chest, you tail twitches as you look towards him angrily, “Neteyam what the hell I actually liked that top, probably the only thing you ever did that I-” his large palm slaps over your mouth, “shut up” his voice is so calm as if he’s used to doing things this.

Honestly, this approach he is taking with you is turning you on so much, you didn’t think he had it in him. You bite his hand and he rips it away from your mouth, “what do you even think you are about to give me here? Have you ever even made a woman cum? Do you know what to you? I was under the impression you liked men considering the stick up your ass in snug in there.”

“You are about to regret your words you slutty bitch” he mumbles to you when he rips your loincloths off your body forcefully making you stumble forward. Eywa don’t let this man see how mess in between your legs look it’ll be over for you. “Neteya-”

“No.” he pushes your body down on the sleeping mat that is adorn with comfortable blankets and pillows you both made. “You need to learn to shut the fuck up and listen sometimes, I’m sick of your shit. You want to get dicked down fine” he doesn’t give you a minute to protest when he's immediately on top of you tying your hands to the bedhead, he made to go behind your sleeping mat using soft pieces of cloth, it was such a pretty pattern to you know he spent a lot of him on yet, you never imagined he’d use it like this.

“Neteyam-” he cuts you off again, “there you go saying my name again, don’t worry you won't remember anything else when I’m done with you.” he smiles down at you obnoxiously. He doesn’t even wait a second before he grabs your thighs spreading them wide and pinning them to your chest. “Oh Eywa, sweetheart, look how wet.” he smiles wickedly at you, “Did I do this or that little hunter boy you were dancing with huh?” his smile never falters as he takes in your blushing expression.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter does it? I get to play with it.” You wank on the restraints keeping you still but it only tightens the knot, you can practically feel the marks it will leave on your wrist. When he removes one hand from your thighs you instinctively shut them closed trapping his hands inside, you should have known that wouldn’t work, Neteyam physically much stronger than you are.

His hands push your thighs apart harshly and he slaps his heavy hand on your thigh cruelly making you wail out at the sting, “Don’t fucking close it” his voice was steady even with your whimpering. You don’t make the mistake of closing them again when he removes his hand once more, dragging one of his long fingers slowly up your folds to your clit. The feeling makes you mellow softly, you lips parted and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

Neteyam brought his finger up to his mouth watching it drop slick on the bedding and put it in his mouth humming at the taste, “I have to say sweetheart I wasn’t expecting you to taste so sweet, I thought you’d be sourer you know... cause you’re a sour bitch, but my, y/n you taste like utumauti (banana fruit).” Your eyes roll at his comment but you can’t find yourself uttering words when he continues his action.

Without warning he inserts a finger into you, his face is so close to your intimate area you can feel his breath on your clit as he watches your cunt suck in his finger when he’s pulling it back out. He repeats the cycle going faster before adding another finger, your eyes are shut now as he fingers you at a moderate pace, but it still feels amazing. “I can feel you sucking me in, gonna cum on my fingers evenge (girl)?” he speaks out glancing at your flash face. Your lip is trapped between your teeth as you watch his arm flex when he thrust in and out of you. When he curls his finger hitting your sweet spot you mewl loudly and throw your head back, resting it on his fluffy pillow.

His scent invades your nose as you start to lose your senses coming on his fingers. You try to muffle your noises not wanting to give him any kind of complex. “Awe, look at you trying to be quiet. You don’t want me to hear those noises huh? I guess I’ll have to coax them out.” he fakes disappointment pouting his bottom lip out for you as he curls his fingers again pressing down on your sweet spot and he does this over and over and over again.

You can no longer hold in your moans at his movements and he speeds up making you tense your legs up. You release on his hand with a loud whimper you try to shut your legs to make him stop his movements, Neteyam doesn’t falter he open pries your legs back open and delivers another harsh slap to your other thigh, “You just don’t listen huh” he delivers another, then another one slapping both your inner thighs.

“Neteyam please stopp” water wields up in your eyes as you take his rough, heavy slaps to your skin. “You know, you came without permission, what should we do about it slut?” he slaps you again completely ignoring you pleads. Your thighs are turning red from the abuse but he doesn’t care. His fingers speed up their pace inside you and you feel like you are seeing stars, “Neteyam-” you whimper as you try to squirm away from his hands.

“Yea sweetheart? I thought you said I couldn’t make you come?” his tone is condescending when he speaks to you. The overstimulation makes you roll your eyes back, your face flushes deep purple and you bite your lip. “I take it back-” you whimper to him. “Aw, I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that now you wanted this didn’t you? You wanted a man to touch you like this. You got it.”

You glimpse at his figure in front of you. He’s having so much fun teasing and touching you, you can see the way he enjoys watching you come undone for him, “All this just for me huh? Just imagine you wanted At’ok to be the one touching you, instead of me? Your husband. You think he could make you feel half as good as this? The answer is no.” Neteyam uses his other hand to push his body up and over yours, his hand moves to graze your nipples that harden a while ago being left untouched.

“Such a little slut. Fuck” neteyam pinches your nipples roughly, feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers he knows you want to cum again but he’s not giving in so easily this time. “You’re gonna cum” he says, he’s not even questioning you, like he’s done this a million times, he just knows. You don’t deny it nodding your head vigorously, “wanna cum yea” you whimper

“Beg.” his voice is stern, he slows his movements a bit, “No fuck you” you bite back. “Oh, then I guess you won’t be cumming tonight” Neteyam voice sounds innocent but his face tells you an entirely different story, he wants you to give him, he’s just waiting for you to roll over and beg for him. His fingers slowly retract from your pussy and the emptiness drives you crazy, “wait!” you shout accidently pulling on the restraints.

“Please?” you mumble so softly he almost didn’t catch it, “What was that sweetheart?” his head leans in tilting his ear towards your mouth, his fingers still inside you half way in, half way out. “Please neteyam..”

He chuckles at you, “feeling shy? Speak up please what?” he eggs on, “Please let me cum” he tries to hold in the satisfied smile making its way to his face, “one more time let me hear it, please what?” he urges you to speak louder, “PLEASE NETEYAM! LET ME CUM!” your eyes are glassy when you scream. You want it so bad you can barely think.

“There it is, that wasn’t so fucking hard was it, all you had to do was ask nicely whore” his smile is wicked when he calls you that, he watches your face bubble up in anger before he continues his ferocious pace. You feel like you melt down into a puddle when you cum on his fingers with a loud scream of his name. You didn’t mean for it to happen but it certainly did, you are sure if someone was around your hut they would have heard you screaming out for you mate.

Neteyam laughs wickedly when he pulls away from your body. The hand that was previously inside you comes up to your face and he smears your wetness onto your skin as he cups for face. “You gonna fucking listen now if I untie you?”

“I always listen Net-” he cuts you off with a harsh slap using the same hand, right across your face whipping your head to the side. His grip comes back, “I didn’t ask for back talk you dirty whore, I asked if you were gonna listen” you mumble something under your breath that he couldn’t quite catch making him smack you across the face again. For what felt like the thousandth time, he made your eyes tear up. You decided against answering and just nodded your head, big mistake. His heavy hand comes down once more on your face and before he can utter any words you scream out to make him stop, “yes- fuck yes, I’ll listen”

Neteyam smiles victoriously at you, and reaches his free hand up to rip the restraints off you. You could try to fight him, but you have no energy to even move properly. You were under the impression he got his point across, and that he was done, but you were in for a rude awakening. He moves off of you grabbing the hair on the top of your head roughly and pulling you onto your stomach, you whimper at the pain.

When he lets you go his roughly pulls you up on all fours, and you raise your head to see his positioned you in front of the mirror he got for your hut. “Oh no” the thought ran through your head, you take in your form; half of your face is red from his slaps, you can see your red thighs. Your bottom lip swollen from biting down on it.

“Oh, but yes, were not done” you must have said it out loud and not even realized, when your eyes shift to his form looming over you, his head is right next to yours, his loincloth has been discarded and he was stroking himself behind you. You couldn’t see his cock from this angle so you drop your head down to the mat, your chin touched the floor and you looked in through the mirror directly as his dick, you watch him stroke his incredibly long and thick length, your eyes widen as you wonder how the fuck that was about to fit inside you, you have never taken anything so big before, how does he even hide that thing?

Neteyam notes your expression easily and raises up highly to give you a better view. When his tip presses at your overstimulated clit you raise your head up and shook a ‘no’ quickly pulling your body away from him. “Don’t run, you were cursing breeze about an hour ago about how horny you were, and how much you wanted another man to touch you” he pulls you back roughly, dragging your bent over form closer to him and you felt his tip pushing against you once more.

“I’m going to have to teach you who this pussy belongs too” he pushes in this time without warning and you feel his length stretch you out, your mouth makes an o shape but not sound comes out as you take him in. You didn’t even know it was possible that to fit in you, but then again you never thought you would be fucking this man so things change.

“Eywa you are such a slutty doll, watch yourself fall apart on my cock, and I just stuck it in.” he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, he just starts pounding into you. You cream on his cock while he’s thrusting, he fucks you so good, it’s like Eywa made his cock especially for your cunt. When you are almost coming for the third time, he pulls out of you leaving you untouched.

Your eyes shoot up to look at him threw the mirror and you find him already staring at you, “Who’s making you cum sweetheart?” he asks you in a sickeningly sweet voice, “No one, I’m not coming you pulled out. What, can’t keep up with me?” you feel upset at his action making you manifest an attitude. His hand comes down smacking your ass, your tail whips when your feel the fat ripple, “What?” when you done answer he smacks the other cheek of your ass making you whimper, “nothing...” you said softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“Sweetheart you always make things hard for yourself” smack. “Why can’t you just be a good little wife” smack. “You didn’t answer my question yet” smack. “Who’s making you come slut?” smack. Smack. Smack.

Neteyam thoroughly enjoys spanking you like you were a naughty child. He didn’t stop until he heard you small words, “You, you’re making me come please?” you push your ass back into his dick feeling the tip slip down and slap your slit making you jump. He catches you off guard when he pushes back in fucking you with the same vigor ask before, making you drop your face down to the mat

“Now tell me who’s making you come?” his right hand comes around to your neck and pulls you up choking you. Your lips part as you exhale with every thrust he delivers, “Y-you” you stutter out, “Say my name whore come on” his face comes down next to yours and his hand moves from your neck to your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers, his head comes down to the junction of your neck and face and sucks harshly on the skin.

Neteyam leave dark purple marks all over your neck then he feels your cunt clenching down on his cock, “Gonna cum?” he whispers to you. You can barely form coherent words but you do manage to hm out a “mhmmmm.” his hand that is holding your face smacks it lightly a couple times, “Is that how you ask?” he questions, his pace never faltering, “Pul-lease Net-teyam!” your teeth are clenched as you whimper and moan at the amazing feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

“Such a quick learner come on slut, come on my cock” his words send you over the edge coming on command, your orgasm is intensified by the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, he’s biting you, marking you, Neteyam creates a pretty wound when he draws blood out of you making you scream loudly.

You pant your mouth feels dry and your throat hurts, you want to fall down but his grip is strong, he doesn’t let that happen. Neteyam pulls out of you quickly and moves his hand from your face to the top of your head pulling you to sit on your knees in front of him. He strokes his cock before tapping it on your lips a couple times, “come on, open up taste your juices slut.” His cock presses against you lips when he lets it go and slaps you across the face again, “Are you slow bitch, open up” he smacks you around whipping your head from side to side before you answer him, “My mouth is dry-” he can hear it in your voice, he knows it’s true.

“Open.” he says sternly, his hands now occupied holding your head, “Stick your tongue out.” he continues in the same tone, when you do it, he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours and you instinctively swallow it, he shoves his cock into your mouth right after, “Now suck” he demanded thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

He observes the way your cheeks puff out when he fills you up and the bulge in your throat when he thrust harshly into your mouth. The view is perfect for once you can’t complain or bitch about anything you do, your mouth is stuffs, you are quiet. Neteyam enjoys the silence aside from the occasionally gagging, your tears fall down your cheeks creating such a perfect picture for him.

When neteyam come he pulls out of your mouth, stroking himself coming all over your face and chest with a sexy moan, “fuckkk yea take it bitch.” He takes a deep breath and looks down at you seeing you stick your tongue out tasting the cum that sits on your lips. Neteyam thinks it’s so hot, next time he’ll be sure to come in your mouth but for now, “gonna stop being a little bitch now and behave yourself?” he brings his hand back squishing your face, ignoring the feeling of his come on it. You nod quickly before opening you mouth and responding, “I’ll behave.”

You both know it’s not true but at least you said it.

✨ I’m not sure how much I like this but I hope you do when you read it! Repost, likes and comments are always appreciated, I love the positive feedback!

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