#broken spine prods

[nofatclips]

Forever In Another World by Caudal from the album Forever In Another World [Free Download/Name Your Price on BandCamp]

[chrollogy]

SILKEN WEB

— chrollo lucilfer x f!reader x hisoka morow

syn: Hisoka’s ‘generosity’ allows Chrollo to fuck you in front of him after he’s seen the way the latter has looked at you. Though, the redhead cannot help but join in on the fun despite being the cuck—he has his ways, he always does.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, porn without plot, cuckolding, voyeurism, threesome, creampie unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f & m), anal (f), masturbation (m), edging, overstimulation, hisoka uses bungee gum, chrollo might be pining over reader, not beta read.

word count: 2.8k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. the fruit of my late night thoughts nod nod. as per poll results, here’s hisoka as the cuck :3

Fantasizing—a children’s pastime, a mere way to escape from one’s gruelling reality but Chrollo Lucilfer would be lying to himself if he deemed he wasn’t immune to it. Oh, he certainly wasn’t without a doubt; the root of all his wildest dreams, and twisted carnal desires was none other than the woman beneath him, all in her serene nakedness—you.

So breathtakingly exquisite—the epitome of beauty. From the lust-clouded gaze that complimented the colour of your eyes all the way to the dulcet tone of your breaths, this was sinful heaven for Chrollo. Sinful not because of the sharp pleasure kissing down his spine but simply because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. Not lovers, not friends, mere acquaintances, and your heart was reserved for none other than a member of the Troupe he led.

But that never stopped Chrollo from fantasizing about you, about this. Ever the observant fighter, it didn’t take long for Hisoka to catch the former’s lingering stares on you—albeit, as blank as a sheet of paper—whenever he paraded you around. One of the biggest telling signs was that Chrollo had never uttered a word regarding your presence whenever you sat there during their meetings despite the other members’ dismay.

Of course, once something piqued Hisoka’s curiosity, he wouldn’t let go until a solid answer was handed to him on a silver platter. It was a short exchange between the two males, a few sharp retorts from Hisoka’s end but nonetheless, it led to this lewd scene. Per the magician’s words, he gave Chrollo permission to do whatever he pleased to you—to fuck, to make love, to get lost in eye-rolling pleasure within your very walls but only if he got to watch everything unfold.

From the intimate act of undressing, and peeling of clothes all the way to a passionate climax that was sure to vex his very bones, Hisoka was to watch it all.

Faint squeaks of the bed frame paired with yours, and Chrollo’s heated gasps filled every corner of the room; his thrusts were deep, and rapid, body intimately flushed against your own which absolutely left no room for coherent words to come out—with the way his cockhead repeatedly prodded your sweet spot, strings of broken whimpers, and low moans were the best you could muster.

Sex wasn’t something you were foreign with but the ungodly rhythm of Chrollo’s hips was enough to make you feel like a virgin again begging for more, more, more, nothing but pleasure engrained inside your mind, clawing, and running after that blissful sensation.

Chrollo was different from Hisoka, he handled you with the utmost gentleness but that didn’t take away the fact that he pounded you oh-so-passionately into the ivory mattress beneath. On the other hand, Hisoka was rough, and animalistic—purely driven by his wild carnal desires. 

Chrollo’s sweat-lined forehead rested against yours, face mere centimetres from your own as your breaths intertwined in a vulgar dance. The hearts of his palms captured your trembling hands in a firm hold, pinning them on either side of your head, and used as leverage to drive his cock deeper into your sopping cunt—as deep as his desires went for you.

He closed his eyes at the feel of your walls clenching around him, jaw tightening as electric pleasure shot up his spine, “F-fuck . .” God, you felt divine, Chrollo truly wanted to keep you to himself. He could treat you so much better than Hisoka—have you reach new heights of pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

Alas, that was out of the picture, Chrollo would have to settle for the mere intimacy of fucking you beneath these ivory covers, the same ones you, and Hisoka retire under after a long, tiring day. The duvet draped loosely across Chrollo’s back, mirroring a broken angel’s wings, and with the eager thrusts of his hips, it slowly slipped downwards. It was hot, and stuffy beneath the weight of the blanket but he’d do anything to keep the lewd intimacy from a pair of prying eyes.

That’s right, Hisoka sat on a chair not too far off the foot of the bed, an unamused expression plastered on his face but the growing tent between his spreaded legs hinted far from unamused.

Sure, the pornographic sounds bouncing off the walls had his cock hardening but Hisoka was deprived. He clicked his tongue, the sharp sound was enough to reel Chrollo out of his pleasured state followed by a stutter in his thrusts. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Chrollo but I said to give me a show, didn’t I?” What was Hisoka supposed to do with your bodies tucked beneath the covers? 

His view was nothing but the top half of Chrollo’s naked back, and the covers moving along with the latter’s thrusts, other than that, it left everything to Hisoka’s imagination. Of course, he wasn’t going to let it be, not after he generously let Chrollo fuck you like this.

With a swift flick of his index finger, the rubbery bright pink aura extended from the tip of his digit all the way to the ivory covers atop Chrollo’s naked back, attaching itself onto the fabric. A smirk crept its way up to Hisoka’s face as he pulled the covers down, exposing the way your naked bodies intimately tangled with one another.

A rather surprised gasp left your lips as the cool air hugged your fervent body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Naturally, this had also caught Chrollo off guard but didn’t let on, instead, the raven haired male responded by drilling his hips at a much faster pace, pulling a string of broken moans from your throat which only fuelled the excitement embedded in Hisoka’s chest.

Light amber eyes fixated where you and Chrollo met, Hisoka intently watched as the former’s cock disappeared, and reappeared between your coated slit—not to mention the light sheen of your essence around Chrollo’s cock, causing it to glimmer beneath the afternoon rays that seeped through the windows. Now, this was what Hisoka wanted to see—you, and Chrollo all in your filthy glory.

The feeling of blood rapidly rushing down to his cock, and the familiar tingle between his legs made Hisoka’s citrine gaze roll back, not to mention the growing delight on his face—it was anything but an innocent look. Lewd, wet sounds that were once muffled beneath the ivory duvet now reached Hisoka’s ears like an unholy melody; the constant skin slapping, the mixture of high, and low moans—the impurity of it all, your lover revelled in it.

Sounds of the redhead’s shameless pornographic moans intertwined with your own, and Chrollo’s as he teased himself through the fabric of his pants. Excitement shocked every part of his body like electricity, rendering him sensitive to anything, and everything—it was the same sensation as the extreme bloodlust he felt whenever he thirsted for battle.

Chrollo quietly clicked his tongue, not bothering to glance back at Hisoka in annoyance. He needed to focus on you. And he did. Without compromising the pace of his hips, Chrollo hooked his fingers beneath the back of your right knee, and deftly slung your whole leg atop his shoulder. The deeper angle of his cock had your back arching, your hands scrambled for his taut biceps to claw, and dig into as he pushed you further, and further into the borders of insanity.

“C-Chrollo! Fuck—right there! Just like that—haah!”

He let out a low groan as your nails marked him up, leaving streaks of bright red on his skin. By the looks of it, he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way your cunt gripped him like a vice. Nonetheless, Chrollo’s pace didn’t let up despite the resistance of your walls, albeit, it had his legs quivering, and breath hitching—god, Hisoka was so fucking lucky to have this, to have you.

Chrollo closed his eyes, and parted his lips to make way for soft pants, he focused his entire body in chasing yours, and his pleasure, basking in the ultimate bliss his body was currently experiencing.

Yes. Yes. Ye—

“She likes—haah! She likes taking it from behind—ngh!” The raven haired male shot his eyes open at the sound of Hisoka’s wanton voice, the concentration he once held faltering just a bit from the sudden noise.

Despite Chrollo’s better judgement, he hauled you into the position like a mere ragdoll, deftly handling your limp body with equal amounts of roughness, and gentleness. Though, your arms violently shook, and gave out as soon as Chrollo re-entered your cunt. With your torso flush against the ivory sheets, your lower half remained in position—easier for him to drive his cock deeper; you swore you could feel him in your throat.

The redhead let out a low chuckle, eager hands messily pulling his pants down to free his hard cock; Hisoka sighed at the lack of restraint, and threw his head back, exposing the length of his neck. 

With the new position, Chrollo returned to the pace he had set earlier, heavy balls slapping against your clit from each hard thrust. Skin against skin burned like a searing blaze but god did it feel amazing, not to mention how it stimulated your sensitive bud in all the right ways.

Chrollo curled over himself to place wet open-mouthed kisses down the length of your spine, moaning low saccharine praises in between. He pushed, and pushed into your sopping cunt until the coil deep in your stomach violently snapped. With a loud moan of his name muffled against the damp sheets, your back arched as you came around Chrollo—muscles taut, and knuckles a shade of ivory while pleasure gnawed at your skin.

Hisoka unabashedly fisted at his cock, one hand focused on pleasuring himself while the other sunk into the plush of the armchair. He matched the pace of his hand to Chrollo’s hips, imagining that it was your cunt instead of his palm, albeit, your velvety walls absolutely compared to nothing. Oh well, he’ll get a taste of you one way or another.

It didn’t take long for Chrollo to follow suit, driving his hips a couple more times before completely pulling out, and blowing his entire load on your bare back. He let out a shameless moan of your name—the loudest one he’s let out. Thick, milky ribbons of Chrollo’s cum unceremoniously painted your skin white, and all he could do was stare at it in a haze while his chest heaved up, and down.

On the other hand, Hisoka gave himself a few more rough pumps before squeezing the base of his leaking cock, lustily letting out a hiss as the pleasure he’d worked so hard for slowly dissipated. He cursed in between rough pants—the hunger for a sweet release just grew tenfold after depriving himself of an orgasm.

Hisoka had something better in mind than cumming on his hand.

“I guess it’s my turn.” Strong, muscular legs slightly quivered with every step taken towards the bed, cock standing proudly against his abdomen. Chrollo only narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, clearly displeased by his sudden initiative.

The former returned a smile, “Oh, don’t get greedy now, Chrollo. I’ll give you two choices—” He held out two long digits. “Either you sit, and watch or join in on the fun.”

Never in a million years would Chrollo even think to engage in a threesome with you, and Hisoka. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact that you were the latter’s lover or the fact that he was on the same bed as Hisoka. Nonetheless, here he was balls deep inside your ass, completely unhindered by inhibitions. Hisoka cursed at the feel of your wet cunt, biting his lips at the lewd sound it made as your hot cum coated his cock.

The redhead laid flat on his back, cunt wrapped around him while you straddled his lap which left Chrollo to take care of your backside. Your body remained slumped against Hisoka’s—limp, and quivering as if one wrong move would have you exploding to bits. Could you really blame yourself? Both men stretched you out like it was their sole purpose, it did nothing but put your body under immense pleasure.

You were sandwiched between Hisoka, and Chrollo as though mimicking a mere fly caught in a spider’s silken web, unable to escape. And that usually meant one thing: to wait for one’s impending doom before the ruthless arachnid strikes.

An experimental thrust of their hips had you wailing in pleasure. Having not given enough time to come down from your high, you were still too sensitive—any form of sexual stimulation immediately had your body uncontrollably shaking, and hot tears lining your eyes. Hisoka cupped your jaw with both hands, lifting your face in front of his own before closing the distance; heated, and rough just how he liked it; the redhead didn’t hesitate shoving his tongue past your lips, intimately exploring the inside of your mouth with the wet muscle.

If anything, the messy kiss was enough to distract you from the sudden rough pistoning of their hips—Hisoka gleefully swallowed your wanton moans, and relished at the burning sensation of your nails scratching down his bare chest. The bed creaked under the weight of their merciless thrusts with the headboard atop Hisoka’s head repeatedly banging the wall behind it; these sounds mixed with the lewd melody the three of you produced filled all four corners of the room.

It was funny, anyone would think that a Hisoka, and Chrollo tandem would be a match made in hell; highly volatile once paired together which would result in utter chaos but this—the two moved in perfect unison as though they shared one mind, one ideal. Even only if it was for this moment that they saw one another eye to eye, a wordless union to bring you to another orgasm.

A thin, translucent string of saliva connected your lips to Hisoka’s as he pulled away for a breather, hot breaths mingling with one another as you panted in eachother's face. A sense of pride bloomed across his crimson-marked chest as he watched your lust-filled eyes roll to the back of your head—Hisoka always had a thing for your expressions during sex, it served as fuel to keep going, to keep fucking you.

You looked beautiful bouncing on their cocks, head falling forward while taking their entire length like a champ; the only thing you could really do was grip onto Hisoka’s shoulders, and moan for your dear life. Chrollo couldn’t help but fixate on the way your ass jolted with every thrust, even just the sight of his cock disappearing, and reappearing between the globes of your ass had his head spinning.

It didn’t take long for you to reach yet another orgasm, and this time, it was more intense than the previous one; hot tears ran down your damp cheeks as your body convulsed from pleasure, a drawn out moan of their names combined scratched at your throat. As though he was punched in the gut, Chrollo curled over himself as you clenched around his cock, and attached his lips on your right shoulder, biting down hard at the bare skin.

Hisoka muttered sweet nothings while stroking your hair, amusement filling his tone; you laid there drowning in pleasure while both men remained chasing their own bliss, hips stuttering. It was filthy, and soaking wet where Chrollo, and Hisoka entered you, arousal mixed with your cum messily dripping down the latter’s balls, and onto the sheets beneath.

Chrollo’s digits dug into your skin, he sheathed his cock all the way inside your ass before emptying all his cum inside; he rode out his orgasm by grinding his hips, earning a dainty gasp of his name. Chrollo violently shuddered before releasing your skin from his teeth, he lapped, and kissed at the marks, helping ease the painful sensation he left.

This left Hisoka to firmly plant his feet on the mattress, and thrust upwards which sent your body bouncing once more; short gasps turned into full blown wanton moans as his cockhead repeatedly kissed your sweet spot, bringing your body into overstimulation. Hisoka groaned loudly as the familiar feeling at the pit of his stomach returned, you could tell he was close from the way his fingers gripped your waist with such desperation.

Strings of colourful curses left your lover’s throat as he came inside you, ribbons of his thick essence filling your walls all the way to the brim ‘til it leaked out, and dripped down his balls.

Heavy pants filled the room, the smell of sinful sex hung heavy in the air. The three of you remained still for a moment to catch your breaths but the short time also allowed your minds to clear of lust, and for the whole situation to actually settle in—of what the three of you just did.

Though, it was safe to say that Chrollo wasn’t going to let you escape from his hold any time soon—as though he had you entangled in bands of swathing silk—especially after finally getting a taste of you.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

[glossysoap]

marking his territory

oh i forgot to give y’all my thoughts on perv soap + piss kink + dub/noncon

18+ 18+ 18+ no minors or ageless blogs 🔪 dubcon/noncon, piss kink

you’d be squirming, trapped under his heavy weight as his big arms push your legs apart. despite your pathetic attempts to resist him, your shrill cries and shakes of your head, your cunt betrayed you.

after his thick fingers work on spreading you apart and working you open, your puffy cunt is all soaked and sensitive for him. the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your clit in unforgiving circles and forcing mewls from your lips, his lips curling into a grin with every wet sound and cry.

while you were squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath when he first pushed in, he was grunting hot and gravelly in your ear. a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine, making you accidentally clench around him even further.

you hate how easily he slips right in, thick girth and all. you hate how your cunt grips him so tight. you hate how you feel so fucking full.

but he fucking loves it. can’t get enough, in fact. the way you’re squeezing him like a vice, better than any fleshlight. the way he can barely pull out to build a rhythm because you’re gripping him so tight.

he pulls out halfway, inch by inch, all while staring down at your cunt. mesmerized by how your folds enveloped him so well, practically sucking him back in.

“huggin’ my cock, bird. thought ye didn’t wan’ it?”

you cry big fat tears while you gasp and pant, sobbing and whining.

“i— i don’t!” you cry, your voice going hoarse.

“mm? ye sure about that?” and he’s thrusting back in all the way to the hilt. you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out as he split you open all over again.

“oh,” he damn near purred into your ear, “ye cry so pretty for me, birdie… go on, make some more o’those sounds for me. gonnae let go even quicker if ye do.”

and make more noises you did. you couldn’t stop the squeals and broken mewls that he forced from your lips with every thrust. every time he bottomed out, his cock prodded that spongey spot that had your brows furrowing in pleasure against your will.

“mmmf—!” a cry of pleasure slips past your lips, all muffled as your teeth digs into your bottom lip. tears pricked at your eyes as you felt warmth build up in your stomach, no matter how much you tried to push it away. no matter how much you squeezed your eyes shut or shook your head or held your breath.

his eyes dart up to your face and his face broke into a smirk. it was cute how you thought you could hold off.

“ye gonnae cum for me, hen?” he asks, keeping his eyes on your tear stricken face. “i think ye are.”

he brings one hand down to your weeping, stuffed full cunt and rubs at your swollen clit none too gentle.

you yelp out a string of protests mixed with your own reluctant mewls as you feel yourself get shoved off the edge, your cunt pulsing and throbbing as it clenched around his cock.

“oh, there it is.” he croons cruelly. “creamin’ ‘round my cock.”

you hear him grunting, breathing heavier as he keeps thrusting. it’s all animalistic and messy, his skin all sweaty and spit dripping down his chin. he’s gonna cum soon, surely. then he’d let you go, you think. once he got his rocks off, you’d be free.

you were so convinced of that fact that, when you heard him choke out a sigh and felt his hips stutter, you were almost relieved.

until he laughs when you ask if that was it, if he was going to let you leave now that he had came. until you realize that the seed that filled your cunt was way too warm to just be his cum.

“oh, birdie.. i haven’t cum yet. i just had t’ mark my territory.” he couldn’t possibly let a cute little bird like you slip through his fingers.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission.

[kyuuviix]

first time posting el oh el!!!

NSFW warning!!! laios from dunmeshi x reader type beat

im nowhere near used to the format so ill get there but this is just a lil blurb i wrote in maybe 30ish minutes??

tw: cunnilingus, def ooc laios, he's horny as hell 😞

enjoy i hope

-

-

another orgasm bubbled out of your sopping slit, thighs trembling as your high, reedy moans crumbled into low, broken cries as tears ran down your face.

"my lord- fuck, please...!"

you wept, sweat trailing down your neck and making your skin stick to the filled-out parts of your messy silk button-up.

the king- or rather, your husband had come back from his dealings hungry, and with his limit of preferred food, (monsters no longer being on the roster) you were the next best thing.

"still talking with such formality when i'm eating this pretty little pussy of yours? hope all of that royalty talk didn't fog your brain while i was away."

your eyes were on the verge of rolling into the abyss of your eyelids, chest quickly falling and rising as his grip tightened around your thighs.

your lips felt bludgeoned, a tingling feeling rippling over your face, your spine- and especially between your legs.

his tongue flayed against your messy cunt, prodding and thrusting the slick muscle against your folds, suckling down onto your warm bud as his lips trickled out a deep groan in response.

"but don't worry, you'll call me by my name soon enough."

as soon as he came home to the castle, he was quick to locate you in your usual spot, demanding everyone leave to a different floor, as he needed time to 'debrief' everything to the queen. as you could easily tell, he needed his fix.

he dragged you to your shared bedroom, which you were more than ecstatic to follow along with, after all, it's been far too long since you two were intimate.

and here you are now, only in your unkempt button-up with your thighs held apart, sweat dotting every inch of your skin as your husband happily nestled his head between your legs, lapping at your cunt fervently.

his hips pressed against the comforter of the bed, sucking your sweet liquids into his mouth, pulling an uneven whine out of you- which made him grin.

"you just love what my tongue does to you, huh?"

his lidded gaze was scoped on you, laying his tongue flat against your clit and gently caving it inside of your tight slit.

your back arched upwards with a defeated cry, head pressing into the silk comforters, legs instinctively trying to writhe out of his grip.

but the way your hand tussled and messily gripped at his ash-blonde tufts told him otherwise, your spare hand gathering in the covers.

his pupils dilated further as his tongue dipped into your warm, velvety walls yet again- a coy grin eating at his lower jaw. he was teasing you, he knew you were close to cumming again, he just wanted you to beg for it.

and beg, you'd do.

-

sorry this is so half-assed lol

[heytheredelulu]

I was wondering if you could do maybe a like feral Bucky? Like maybe they trigger the soldat and instead of him fallowing their orders he goes after the shy curvy little intern of Tony’s? They’ve both been too shy to make a move. I’m cool with whatever spin you put on it, I LOVE your writing.

(Love all your normal kinks so feel free to add those too as you see fit! )

Thank you lovely 🥰 Can’t wait to drool over more of your writing lol

I took this and RAN with it.

It ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated so this one will be broken up into two parts.

I struggled with trying to incorporate Bucky being triggered after the reader already being somewhat aquatinted with him, pining after him, etc. so I went the route I did and I hope it fulfills your request!

Part one will be mostly just plot building with a spicy cliff hanger leading us into a part two of pure smut.

Ready to Comply - Part One - Anon Request

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, choking, blood (Bucky is strugglin’ and bites his own hand), a lil sexual tension in prep for part two, he sniffs her coochie, okay?

“Okay, stop. Stop that.” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth. You shot him a glance and tugged at your skirt one more time for good measure. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “You look fine, Rookie. Very professional. Is that what you needed to hear?”

You scoff and shake your head. “That’s no- I’m not fishing for compliments, I genuinely hate dressing like a fucking secretary.” You grumble, drawing a laugh out of Tony. “And don’t call me ‘Rookie.’” You add with a prod to his chest. He brushes the front of his suit jacket sarcastically in response to your poke and raises his hands defensively, a soft chuckle rising from his throat.

“A fucking secretary? Really? It’s business professional. Did you think I could let you stand next to me in a press conference wearing an old t-shirt and some torn up jeans? We need to create a semblance of professionalism.” He gestures to his own attire with a grin and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he continues.

“And what’s wrong with ‘Rookie’? You’re my little protégé.” He jests, reaching like he’s going to pinch your cheek as if you were some adorable little toddler. You frown, swatting his hand away and brings it to his chest, clutching it dramatically. “Wow, you’re going to assault your friend, mentor and extremely rich and handsome boss?” He jokes, feigning offense.

“The only accurate adjective in that sentence is ‘boss’, Sir.” You reply dryly, crossing your arms. The corners of his lips twitch into a sly smile and he nudges you with his elbow. “I’ll accept if you don’t agree with friend and mentor.” He starts, pressing his lips into a pout. “But I might actually get a little offended if you refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome I am.”

You groan in annoyance and roll your eyes, preparing a witty comeback when Pepper Potts rounds the corner with a tablet cradled in her arm, a phone nestled between her ear and shoulder and an expression of concern written across her face.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me.. another offer for People’s ‘sexiest man alive’? I keep telling them, I can’t be on the cover every ye-“ Tony stops mid sentence as Pepper’s manicured forefinger lands on his lips, effectively silencing him.

“Yes. Okay. Understood. Thank you.” She says curtly into the phone before disconnecting the call. “That was Fury. We have an issue. A Barnes issue.”

Your brows furrow at this. “What’s happened with Bucky?” You ask, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. He’d been all but isolated since he’d moved into the Avenger’s tower alongside his best friend Steve Rogers and you couldn’t imagine him being the source of an issue with how reserved this man was. You weren’t at all oblivious to his past- it had been global wide news after all, but in the months since his de-conditioning in Wakanda he had been making great strides towards recovery, working to make amends.

Though your interactions with the ex-assassin had been few, he’d always been polite and kind towards you. You’d felt so out of place among the Avengers, being Tony’s intern. You weren’t on the team, hell, a few of them didn’t even know your name despite you having been trailing behind Tony for the last year. Maybe it was your own fault, considering you hadn’t really made an effort to talk to any of them but aside from the fact that they were all extremely intimidating, you were naturally a shy and quiet person.

You quickly push the self deprecating thoughts from your head. You didn’t care about any of that. You shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be on the team, or were there to make friends, you were here as an engineer, to learn from who was arguably the most intelligent man on the planet. Perhaps that’s why Bucky had always been cordial to you more than some of the others living here. Maybe he gravitated towards you, as someone who constantly felt so out of place, because he felt that way here as well.

Or maybe he thought you were cute.

Oh fuck, if only.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to the man or that you’d been quietly crushing on him practically since you’d started your internship. Every small interaction with Bucky left a blush on your cheeks and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting about your belly.

The thought of someone as absurdly good looking as Bucky fucking Barnes finding you attractive was enough to spark a surge of heat straight to your abdomen.

No, get it together. Now’s not the time.

You mentally scold your vagina for having the nerve to throb at the mere mention of Bucky Barnes regardless of the context and turn your attention back to Pepper and Tony as they argued in hushed whispers.

“What’s happened with Bucky?” You repeat, knowing they likely won’t clue you in if it’s related to Avenger’s business.

Tony offers a nervous smile and exchanges a quick glance with his wife before he checks his watch. “Terminator? He’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably holed up with security for setting off the metal detector.” He pauses and then snaps his fingers. “Or maybe he walked past the junkyard on fifth and got snatched up by the hydraulic magnet.” He says, lifting a hand and miming a crane.

Pepper lets out a soft sigh and your gaze flicks to her. “Yeah, a big magnet or something.” She mumbles, turning her attention back to her tablet. “I don’t think that’s-“ Your cut off by Tony’s hand on the small of your back, urging you forward. “Enough about Robocop. We’re on, Rookie.” He says, his nervous expression falling away and quickly being replaced with a mask of professionalism. “Let’s go unveil our project to the press.” Pepper moves to open the door for you both and before you can open your mouth to tell Tony that if he calls you ‘rookie’ one more time you were going to strangle him with his overpriced tie, your senses are overwhelmed with an onslaught of overlapping voices and camera shutters.

You toss your blazer over the desk in your quaint office and slump over into the chair, trying not to let your mind run wild with anxious thoughts about the press conference. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but worry that you probably looked like a deer in headlights up at the podium alongside Tony.

You huff and rest your chin on the back of your hand, glancing over at the computer screens. Your attention is immediately drawn to security footage from one of the conference rooms when you see movement on the monitor. You lean in with your brows furrowed. It’s late and no one should be in the conference room. You expand the image and can clearly make out Tony and Steve moving about the room with tense body language.

You hover over the footage with your mouse and hesitate. You know that you absolutely should not eavesdrop on the two men but once Tony’s hands begin angrily gesturing around you give in to temptation and turn on the audio.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘back up?’” Tony shouts, beginning to pace the room.

Steve leans forward with his palms on the table and his head bowed slightly. “It’s exactly what I said, Tony.” He replies, his biceps flexing as he grips the table. “HYDRA had a fail safe. They’d planted a back up activation incase he would ever manage to be deprogrammed.” He looks up at Tony with a solemn expression. “They got to him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve-“

Tony holds out a hand, his other resting against his temple as he tries to comprehend what Steve is telling him. “Well you weren’t and they did so know we have to figure out how the fuck we navigate this.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “Do we have eyes on him? Is he in the building?”

Steve sighed and stood upright from the table. “No. He’s in the wind. We lost contact with him a few hours ago.” He admits, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something you need to know.” He adds, looking at Tony with concern as he begins to pace again.

“Well spit it out, Rogers!” Tony yells, stopping and turning back to Steve.

“Nat received some intel. The hit HYDRA ordered is on you and your intern.” He says so quietly you can barely pick it up on the audio. Fear crawls up your spine and your hand trembles as you increase the volume on the security feed, while your heartbeat in your ears becomes near deafening.

Tony stiffens, slowly approaching Steve. “You wanna tell me why?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve nods. “The new tech you unveiled today.“ He explains.

Tony sighs, understanding why one of their enemies would be threatened by what the two of you had been working on and reaches to loosen his tie. “I’ll take Pepper and move her to the safe house before I meet you at a rendezvous point. Send someone to get my Rookie and get her off the grid. I don’t want her alone for a single second.” He says in an exasperated tone, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his cell phone as he stalks towards the door.

“And Rogers?” He asks, turning around one last time, his hand curled tight around the doorknob. Steve’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with guilt ridden eyes. “Yeah?”

“Find Barnes.”

Find Barnes.

The statement echoes in your ears, sending your thoughts spinning as if a category five hurricane were waging inside your head.

No. No, no, no.

There’s a hit out on you?

To be carried out by the fucking Winter Soldier.

Oh you were so fucked.

You scoot your chair back, bracing your hands on the desk to stand with wobbly knees.

Bile rises in your throat as you take a slow step backwards, bumping the chair in your state of panic and knocking your jacket off the workbench. You jump at the sound of it slipping to the floor and clutch your chest as a result of inducing your own jumpscare and take slow breaths to steel your nerves before you bend down to pick it up. As you rise back upright, your gaze connects with a pair of vacant, icy blue eyes in the shadows across the room and your entire body seizes in terror.

He’s not in the wind.

He’s been in here with you this entire goddamned time.

“B-Bucky?” You stutter, bringing your jacket to your chest and grasping it until your knuckles turn white. Maybe Steve and Tony were wrong. Maybe Nat’s intel was wrong. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding and you weren’t about to die at the hands of the ex-assassin you’ve been pining over for nearly a year.

He takes a step forward from the shadows, his face expressionless and his eyes unblinking without a single trace of emotion behind them.

Okay, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You whisper, almost a plea to the man you knew, locked away somewhere in the brain of the cold and calculated killer standing in front of you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t register your words, as he crosses the lab in a few quick strides and catches your throat in his cybernetic hand.

Oh god.

The air leaves your lungs, his grip tightening around your windpipe as his face remains blank.

You’re going to die.

So why are you so fucking turned on?

Heat pools low in your abdomen, your core flooding with arousal, coupled with fear and unbridled lust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you gasp and thrash in his grip, your thick thighs rubbing together with every kick and flail, doing nothing to alleviate the throbbing ache in your cunt.

God this is so wrong.

His brows furrow, the first hint of emotion since he stepped out of the shadows. His head tilts inquisitively and his grip slackens around your throat as he leans in, tracing his nose across your jaw line and inhaling deeply. You still, your face contorting in confusion as you swallow hard against his palm, leaning your body into his hold.

His eyes narrow as he pulls away from you and you take the opportunity to suck in a breath, massaging your neck gently while your gaze drops to observe his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” You ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, wondering if maybe he’s somehow snapped out of the trance he’d been in. He’s still and silent for a long moment, his head bowed as his chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

“Sergeant Barnes, are yo-“

His head snaps up, effectively silencing you.

Your mouth remains agape, stuck on your last word and as he watches you with predatory eyes, taking menacing steps toward you, you can’t seem to find your voice any longer. You stumble backwards, losing your balance and falling back against the desk, unable to regain your footing before his hands grip the flesh of your bare thighs.

He tilts you backwards, your back colliding hard with the surface of the desk, stealing the breath out of your chest. He drops to his knees, splaying his palms against your thighs, the hem of your dress rising up to expose your panties as he spreads your legs wide before him and drags his nose across the fabric.

He groans.

He fucking groans.

“You’re my mission.” He breathes out, eyes wild and fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if he were fighting to physically restrain himself.

“I know.” You whimper, lifting your head to look down at him over the soft curve of your stomach.

“I’ve been ordered to kill you.” He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh and drawing in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

He turns his head and mumbles something incoherently, his breath ghosting against the damp fabric of your underwear and sending a wave of arousal crashing through your core. He stiffens, curling his flesh hand into a fist and bringing it to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as he swallows back a moan.

He shakes his head, his teeth pressing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and you move to sit up, leaning on your palms as you look down at him where he’s slotted between your legs, visibly trembling.

He rises quickly to his feet, his left hand shooting out to curl around your neck again and he drops his bloodied flesh hand to his side.

“Because..” He says through clenched teeth, inhaling sharply as the cool metal of his thumb strokes the column of your throat.

“I can’t fucking focus when all I can smell-“

His free hand roughly cups your pussy over your panties, his voice trailing off as he kneads his palm against the thin, wet fabric.

He growls, tightening his grip around your throat and jerking you up to him, forcing you to meet his threatening gaze.

His expression grows pained and he whimpers, dipping his head to meet your forehead with his own, his breath fanning across your face with every heave of his chest.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@suz7days @blackbirdwitch22 @truthfulliarr @lilacka

Part two

[evil-lovergirl]

req. by melxiqz on wattpad .  .  . can i get a uh... dazai x gn reader reader....nsfw...reader has spine... tattoo..

!    short nsfw drabble . . . dazai osamu . . . >> includes thigh-fucking [char. giving], begging [char. giving], hickeys [char. giving], dazai is very touch-starved, he really likes your tattoo, like he licks it and shit, he's just a wet cat </3, reader sleeps shirtless and pantless (still wearing shorts/boxers),n dazai is sleeping nude, lowercase intended >> sorry thigh-fucking was literally the only way i could think of where he sees your tattoo. also "laurel" refers to the poisonous laurel flower. i was a little tired of dazai calling reader belladonna every story and the laurel flower is really pretty

"it's late, 'samu." he hears you attempt to reason with him as he presses his chest against your back, his slender hands already pressing against your chest.

"pleasee? jus' for a little bit, jus' tonight.." he whines as he presses his bulge against your legs, dick already hard and weeping pathetically as he pressed his cheek against your back.

"just for tonight," you relent eventually, knowing that you'd both do this another night again anyway. he lets out a happy sound before one of his hands fall from your chest and down to your thigh as he carefully slips his cock between your thighs, letting out a quiet huff as he slowly begins to move. 

he keeps his eyes shut for a moment before he looks at the back of your head, then his gaze traces down to your tattoo. his eyes traces each inch of the ink-stained skin on your back, hand on your thigh tightening as he speed his thrusts up a bit more.

 his mouth lets out another moan or two before he latched onto your shoulder blade with it, teeth gently pressing against your skin before your hand moved to gently swat him off. "don't do that. i can't hear you, then."

he huffs as he lets go before a whine interrupts him, your hand having retreated and gently prodded at his tip between your thighs with each of his thrusts. his fingers are basically clawing at you, even though his nails were much too short and blunt to reach your skin, anyway. he pants, tounge lolling out like a dog before he glanced back at the tattoo.

deciding that, in his fuzzy mind, licking your inked skin was the second best thing he could do if he couldn't suck, he dragged his tounge across your tattoo with whines escaping hing him as his thrusts between your thighs grew faster yet sloppier, mewling whenever the palm of your hand met the sensitive tip of his dick.

"i love you, i lov-e y-youu, soo muc-- ah, ah..!- so much," he whines out, repeating the words like a broken record on repeat, nearing his climax as his fingers dragged across your chest pathetically and his hand tightened and shook against your thigh, leaving behind red marks in their wake.

"i love you too, osamu. won't you cum for me?" and that's what sends him over the edge, loud mix of a mewl and a moan escaping him as he came all over your thighs and the bedsheets, head buried in your back.

"looks like you had fun," you mused as your hand moved away from his spent tip before gently intertwining with his hand on your chest still, but now much weaker.

"i love you, my laurel," he mumbled softly, chest rising and falling as he breathed heavily before kissing your back rather gently.

"i love you too, 'samu. go to sleep, unless you wanna clean up now?"

"noooo..."

[tarjapearce]

now im curious... the making of gabriella o'hara. on the night of the wedding or a complete surprise pregnancy?

Ah, our sweet Solecito ❤️

Let's see 🤭 mild nsfw undercut

"Miguel"

"Hm?" His lips kissed up and down your neck, the prong of his canines grazing your tender flesh, earning a shuddering whimper from you.

"It's not a safe day"

He gave a low grunt as his hands grope and squeezed your breast.

He shrugged nonchalantly "There's condoms for a reason"

"Nuh uh."

"Por favor? Si?" (Please? Yeah?)

"No."

"You just love me to beg, don't you?"

"Yes, but, truly! Is not a safe day, mi amor."

"You can't expect me to be still and not want you when you call me like that and you're ovulating"

"How do you even know I'm ovulating?"

"You forget I'm a scientist, cariño." His fingers tweaked with your nipples before pulling at them softly, earning another gasp from you.

"I keep track on you."

"You're just extra horny today"

"Again, you can't expect me to just look when I've got such a treat before me."

"Miguel-" the groan you were about to give died in your throat as he took your chin and pulled it upwards to kiss you deeply. His trapped manhood pressing on the curve of your ass, an indicator of his raging need.

"I swear..." You squealed as he hoisted you in his arms and rushed to the bed. Your clothes were discarded in a haste, just like his.

"Wait-" He didn't let you finish and he was already kissing and exploring your body with his warm hands.

"Mig-" His tongue invaded your mouth, silencing, a tan thumb flickering over your clit in lazy circles. Body jolting as a shiver ran down your spine.

Trying to reason with him when he was in needy mode was not only futile, but your little pleas enticed him to grope and squeeze you tighter. You had to push his face away to breathe. His hands were already kneading the supple of your glutes.

You tried to appeal to his rational side "Miguel, listen-" But were quickly interrupted by his nimble fingers prodding and stimulating your inner folds.

A whimper and another gasp as two fingers were inside slowly. His mouth latched on your left breast, suckling and toying with it.

"W-We need to be careful-"

"Shh. Whatever happens..." His fingers prodded deeper and rougher into you, "Happens."

Your hands clenched at the sheets, hips bucking and squeezing against his fingers.

Not that you didn't want to have kids, the idea seemed a bit too soon, despite two years of dating preceding you both, kids wasn't something you hadn't even thought about not discussed.

The plans of moving in together were the only thing that were certain.

But none of that mattered as his tongue traced down your abdomen. You were so in trouble.

----

His hands held you tighter while his hips slapped against yours with such force you'd though he'd split you in two. From the many times you'd get down and dirty, you'd learn that his thrust grew rougher and meaner when he was about to cum.

His mouth was too ocuppied biting and marking your neck, to pay attention as what was going on between your legs.

"Miguel!" You choked a sobbing moan as your insides clenched around him, chest heaving in erratic and shallow pants, senses soaring in bliss, but Miguel stilled.

"W-What?" You spoke in between breaths

He gulped a little and a faltering smile crept up his lips.

"Miguel..." Your eyes widened as he trusted deep before spilling himself inside you. A chill rawn down your spine as the hot and familiar sensation pulsed within you.

Oh no

As he pulled out you could see the condom, broken and etched to his girth. A devious smirk stretched on his face.

"Shit..."

"Not fuckin funny!"

----

The two of you looked at the pregnancy test, your hands trembled as the two parallel lines revealed themselves to you.

Miguel's breath hitched and you pouted.

"Told you it wasn't a safe day!" You smacked him softly with a pillow and he cradled you in his arms with a little yet triumphant smile.

"Guess we're stuck together then?"

His voice soft as he took your hand.

"I wasn't leaving you anyways. I'm just... scared."

"Naturally. I am scared too."

"Are you?"

He nodded and rested his hand on your thigh.

"But if you don't want to-"

"Is not that. Just... Im scared."

"You'll be a good mom"

"You think?"

"Yeah. Now kiss me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You got me pregnant!"

"Might do it again" You smacked him again with the pillow, cheeks flared

"Cállate!"

[hier--soir]

big

simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: he's big and he knows it. warnings/tags: explicit piv sex, size kink, degradation kink, brief ass play, dacryphilia, he's mean but only cause he knows you love it. word count: 1k masterlist a/n: i'd say i'm sorry, but i'm not. follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

It all happened so quick.

Careful glances at you from across the table. Noticing the way you watch him for the entire meeting, all doe-eyed and hungry, lip snagged between your teeth. And then his rough hold around your wrist, marching you down a set of stairs and through a long corridor, into an abandoned office on a lower level of the base. Hot breath on your neck as he tells you no one ever comes down here. Tearing his gloves off, tossing them to the ground and promising that no one’ll hear you. Dark and unused, the room stinks of dust and mould, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even bother flipping the light switch on before he’s dragging your trousers to your ankles and nudging your stumbling frame towards the sofa.

It's old, made of rough olefin that scratches at the bare skin of your hips, your tits, your face. Time passes and you’re sure an angry rash must be splotching across your skin, raw and sensitive from the contact, but he isn’t letting up.

Simon’s right hand is firm, fingers splayed between your shoulder blades to keep your face against the cushions and your body bent over the armrest as he fucks into you from behind.

“Needy little thing.” The low timbre of his voice sends a shiver tripping down your spine. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout my cock long enough to do your fucking job.”

“Yes,” you mewl, the sound turning to a ragged moan as his fingertips dig harder into your back. “Needed you. S’all I could think about.”  

His grip is bruising on your hip, dull nails pressing into your skin as he practically cleaves you in two around his cock. You can feel the blunt tip of him bump against that spongy spot inside you with every thrust. So thick and warm and sweaty as he rolls his hips against your ass at a relentless pace, knocking the wind from your lungs with every movement until your mouth is hanging open and you’re drooling down your chin.

“Spoilt fucking brat,” he pants roughly, and the words echo through the room. “Thought I’d broken you in by now.”

“Shit,” you cry out desperately, grinding your ass back into his hips. Hot tears sting at your waterline, begging to spill over. “Oh, fuck, oh god.”

The stretch is obscene, bringing with it a low, achy burn that swims between your thighs and stabs through your abdomen like little prods of lightening. But the pain is blurred and buffeted by the sound of his satisfied grunts as he gets his fill of you, leaning back to watch the way your slick cunt gapes and spasms around his girth.  

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he admires in a choked rasp, just like always. “Fucking hell.”

You wish you could see it too. The way he works you open and leaves you gaping at the loss of his cock, waiting just long enough to let you miss it before he sinks the heavy weight of himself back into your wet heat.

“So big,” you whine breathlessly, eyelids fluttering as another orgasm trembles its way through your body. “Fuck, Si, I'm—”  

“Bloody hell,” he snaps. “You ever stop fucking talking?”

You’re not proud of the way your cunt pulls taut at his words. The way a fresh load of your come dribbles around his cock and coats his balls when he makes fun of you, all taunting and mean.

M’sorry, you mumble pitifully, face hot where you tuck it into the sofa cushions.

“You will be,” he mutters. His grasp tightens on your hip, bunching the soft skin and flesh there in his fingers and using it as leverage to drag you back onto his length. “Can’t fucking think in there with you looking at me like that.”

M’sorry, m’sorry, again and again, bottom lip slick and swollen from biting down to contain the lewd sounds trying to slip out of your mouth.

The hand on your hip drifts over your ass, squeezing the flesh there to hold your cheeks apart, and then his thick thumb is prodding at your hole. Teasing you there slow, soft, while his cock pistons into you. You moan, trying in vain to wiggle your ass against him, begging for it without ever saying the words. Body screaming please, please, please.  

“There we go,” Simon goads, and you can hear the wicked glee in his voice. Deep and rough and elated. “Just needed someone to fuck you stupid, huh? Fill this tight little cunt ‘til there’s no thoughts in your pretty head, and all you can do is take it.”

Soon enough those tears spill. Hot fat rivulets that drip into your open mouth, onto the hot skin of your neck.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Fucking cry over it.”

Wet sobs catch in your throat as he pulls you backward onto his cock, over and over again. He leans against you heavily now, using his weight to press you into the sofa so there’s no more room for you to squirm and wriggle in his hold.

But you turn your head. Let him see your eyelashes clumped together with tears, the drool on your chin. And just a glimpse of your face has Simon’s body shuddering. One of his knees buckles and he’s groaning, broad chest flush to your back, stilling inside of you as those dark eyes hold your watery gaze. You can feel him everywhere. The thick span of his thighs against yours, muscled stomach against your spine.

For a moment he just rests there – lets you feel the way his cock throbs and pulses deep inside your aching cunt – before he starts to fuck you again. Hot and heavy movements against your fluttering swollen hole. You whimper and cry out his name, begging and pleading for what you aren’t sure, and you know he must be grinning behind that mask from the way he laughs.

“Can cry all you like, love,” Simon mutters. “We aren’t finished ‘til I say we are.”

[cloudnineminusnine]

dear anon, we're on the same boat 😮‍💨

i hope you're doing good! 💖

better late than never, so here we go.

!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD NO MINORS ALLOWED!

sun wukong

"wait, wait! no need to hide from me!" he gives you a roguish smile as both his hands draw your wobbling knees away from each other preventing you from hiding yourself, curious eyes darting directly to your drenched aching core, where your fingers incessantly deepen despite the embarrassment"it's all to me, ain't it? then don't hide it, love." he makes sure that you're aware of the effect your little show has on him, rutting his hardening clothed cock against the velvety skin of your trembling thigh, prodding insistently.

there's a wildness to his thirsty eyes that hits it just right for you, nearly animalistic, blowing intense shivers all over your heated body. a promiscuous cry elapse through your swollen glistening lips as you can only thrust further between your slicked folds. his grip on your bent knees open you up even more, making it easier for your soaked fingers to dig themselves into your core. you're no longer the reasoned, composed being that he's used to have beside him, no, now you're just a tantalizing mess and you need him to see just how broken he made you to be, pleading for a pleasure only him can concede you.

witnessing the power he holds over you, he feels more than delighted, flattered at how lewd your body becomes at the mere thought of him touching you "moaning my name out like that? you're so filthy..." your teary eyes goes straight to his complacent face, fingers sinking deeper when his tongue drags slowly over his pointy teeth"i bet those tiny fingers can't reach the places i will" clumsily he takes his erection out of it's confinement, thrusting into the tightness of his own calloused hand so you have a clear proof of how much trouble you're causing him "i can do it so much better, all you gotta do is beg me to" he inhales strongly once your eyes meet, biting down his thin lip, submerged by the vicious symphony caused by your candy-like groaning in unison with the wet noises of your desperate hand drowning into your greedy hole.

"wukong!" his turgid red tip drips in desire at your pain filled call, throbbing fueled by fury when you moan wantonly "please, put it inside...- need you inside me, pretty please!" you drag your fingers out and spread your juices all over the puffy lips, opening your pussy with no shame for him to see, smiling slyly in between a lip bite while he surrenders himself promptly, rubbing his thickness at your deprived entrance. he's so big and it feels so overwhelmingly hot as the tip kisses teasingly your gaping soaked cunt.

his half lidded eyes squint a bit as he suppresses a growl "thinking about it..." faking an elaborated thought, he clears his throat "first i want you to cum from your fingers alone," he warns harshly as the swollen head slides a little inside, enough to earn a helpless sob from you "then i'll put it inside you and make you cum again, harder, filling you up so good that you'll never want anything other than my cock inside that pathetic needy cunt of yours." with a mouth full he spits his ill intentions, savoring the sight of your lovely eyes shedding fat tears as you plead him religiously to fuck you.

you're so pitiful that the mere suggestion of what he's going to do makes you cum on point, spine arching as your breath get caught, toes curling to knots, whole body vibrating as you go higher than ever, sucking in the moisty tip while you're middle orgasm, barely able to keep your legs open for him to watch you being washed by immense waves of pleasure.

hovering over your partially nude body he kisses your mouth lecherously through your orgasm, sloppy and wet, tongue all over the place as he fed his ego on your frustrated adorable whines "so obedient..." his furry hands dive into your body going straight do your silky chest so he can give a little attention to your neglected nips, until your slutty waist begs him to hold you still in place so that your hips relax. he drags his hard rock member among your folds, going back and forth in a torturing pace, mixing your fluids altogether while hitting your sensitive clit aimfully "you're ruining me, you know that?"

destined one

"keep going..." comes a plead muffled by your neck, quietly in a way that makes you twitch in desire — juices dripping all over your bottom as your hand keep going."are you feeling good, hm?" he clasps your nipples enthusiastically between the rough fingertips, planting smooches in every hickey caused to your neck by his famine mouth, almost out of his mind, messy and desperate do feel more of you, to see more of your lewd behavior.

as he presses his sturdy body against your back you can feel his hardness throbbing at the end of your spine, begging for attention. "want you inside me..." you purr mellowly, looking down to where your fingers work their way in and out of you, sloshing wet sounds growing louder just like your tender voice"it's so greedy... my fingers aren't enough to reach deeper inside, babe" his hands snakes anxiously under the fabric of your clothes, finding their way to your exposed inner thighs, separating them furthermore and exposing you completely. you mewl in surprise, fidgeting between his well built hairy arms as he kneads your ass hungrily.

"you were calling my name so beautifully..." his heavy breath fan over your ear shell, spreading chills down your back as his sharp nails scratch your sweat-glimmering skin, fingers digging against it, leaving fresh traces of his possessiveness. his voice takes over your clouded mind, coming hot against your exposed shoulder "wanna see you pleasuring yourself." there's a pout on his lips, you can tell by the spoiled tone he's using against you.

slowly scissoring your hot cave open, you mumble "you're so mean to me." turning your head to the side your moist lips brush right against his sensitive reddish ear, earning a aroused whine from him that makes your legs wobble and your digits drown further inside you. as much alluring as it is, you will have to break that bratty attitude of him."look at how wet i am... and that's all your fault." when a third finger join in with the other two he bite down on your shoulder repressing a guttural moan, the combination making your eyes roll back in pleasure. "hng... i- i can't stop thinking about you pounding me hard and deep." in between angustiated sobs you blurt out, hopeful that he would tear your remaining clothes apart and fuck you senseless against any tree.

two can play a game and he knows very well what you're setting up to him. he refuses to bite the bait, suddenly fueled by the ferocious urge to see you crying loud and clear for him as you can only try to relieve yourself by playing with you thirsty cunt. "you sly little thing, you almost got me." he whispers, licking behind your ear, bringing one of his hands to your face as his tail takes it's place wrapping around your raised thigh. he sounds much more demanding, as if something snapped inside him.

before you can fight back, two girthy fingers invade your lips, toying with your tongue and vibrating instantly as you moan shamelessly around them. at the same time he starts moving behind you, rubbing himself deliberately so you know how close he is to losing his remaining sanity. "be good to me and i shall give you what you want."

his voice shifting from soft spoken and almost bashful to that dark lust-filled tone was dangerously interesting, your pussy agrees as it grips crazily around your shaky fingers, sucking them deeper to remind you that you're on your own, that they're unable to bring more than a crescent frustration while failing at hitting your sensitive spot. you're on the verge of crying as you hopelessly suck his fingers soaked, saliva dripping from the corners of your swollen lips.

[hitomisuzuya]

Scara should play with my boobs 🥺🙏

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Cock warming. Nipple play. Scara with a tongue piercing. Praise.

Felt this 😳

Scaramouche kept his eyes focused on your face, his tongue shaking out to slowly lick one of your nipples. The ball of his tongue drug across your nipple. You exhaled a shaky sigh, arching your back to move your chest further against his mouth.

He'd called you into his lap to cock warm him while he played with your nipples. He knew how sensitive they were, and he loved watching you squirm in his lap, your cunt drooling and clenching on his cock.

You let out a whine, moving up and down on his cock a little. You yelped feeling a rough grope before the sting of his hand smacking across your ass. You immediately stilled your movements.

Scaramouche's hands settled on your hips. "I told you to stay still like a good girl," He chided, smirking as he tapped his fingers on your hips as if to tempt you to bounce.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he returned his attention to your nipples. Delicious broken moans and whines keened from your throat, your nipple further hardening and twice as sensitive under the ball of his piercing.

Scaramouche groaned, sucking on your nipple as his hands slide up the length of your body. "Such a good girl," He swirled his tongue around your nipple, each suck sending a stronger jolt of pleasure right to your clit.

It was exhausting you resisting the urge to fuck yourself stupid on his cock. You cried out, your pussy clenching harder hearing his praise.

You were an absolute vision to him slowly falling apart on his cock.

His hand found your other nipple, the pads of his fingers rubbing and pinching it to harden before tracing his finger slowly up your spine. Goosebumps prickled on your skin. "So soft," He moaned, sucking harder on your nipple, "my good, sweet girl." A pliable, obedient plaything all for him.

The only one for him.

He rutted his cock up inside you, holding you still in his lap. "Always, I'll always be a good girl for you," You whimpered, his eyes soaking in the way your face contorted in pleasure.

You looked so sweet that he was determined to make you cum hard just from sucking and playing with your nipples.

Moving his mouth to your other nipple, he reached down to rub your clit in attempt to soothe you when you started whining and squirming again. "My good girl deserves to cum and fucked full," He prodded his piercing on your nipple, "just be patient."

[springsylph]

Touch and Agree | Charles x Reader

charles smith x f! reader | no warnings | 2.1k | ao3 |

was trying to get back into writing but i was struck with an indescribable sadness once i thought about how useless charles must’ve felt after burning his hand in blackwater. so. i raise you unknowingly touchstarved reader versus Charles™

The horses have slowed to a trot by the time you press your cheek to the frosted window.

You hear Arthur shout some muffled declaration of success as he and Charles’ shadows curl around the front of the stable. The gang is likely aware of their return, senses now heightened by hunger and the frigid winds of Colter. But you feel the need to relay the message to the few still silently huddled in the corners:

“If you’ve been praying, today’s your lucky day.”

Tilly, arms crossed tight over her torso, is the first to pipe up from her spot near the fireplace. “Micah finally saw his sorry behind off the nearest cliffside?”

“Miss Tilly!” Grimshaw hisses, scandalized. The only thing stronger than Grimshaw's personal gripes are the exigencies of the gang. “No more of that. You know we need all the hands we can get.”

Karen, squished next to Mary-beth and a now slumbering Sadie on a wooden bench, scoffs. “Didn’t think we counted meat hooks as hands.”

That gets a snort out of John, who realizes too late that his body isn’t quite healed enough to handle said snort. A flick to the forehead from Abigail quiets him down in his cot before she turns to find you still gazing out the window.

“I’m assimin’ Arthur and Charles are back?”

You nod. “With one…two deer, by the looks of it.”

Your inhale is sharp when Charles pulls his catch over his shoulder with a jerk, beckoning Arthur to follow after him to mask his discomfort. The tension leaves your spine only after the last dregs of his shadow disappear into the stable.

Half-turned to Abigail, you mumble, “Does Charles look a little...off to you, these days?"

"Off," she repeats. The darkness under her eyes colors her words. "Off how?"

"You know," and you make as though to say something of substance before your eyebrows pinch together, "off.”

Abigail looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “If you’re waitin’ on Charles to scream bloody murder, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a burn to do him in.”

Another brick is slotted into a broken wall. 

“I’m just worried.”

“About?”

“Charles. I think his hand is botherin’ him again.”

Abigail’s sigh dusts the cold air with its warmth. “I…suspect most things might look a little off since we've been cooped up like this. But we’ve got O’Driscolls and Pinkertons on the prod." She looks at Jack, now sitting cross legged at her feet and fiddling with the corner of John's blanket. Abigail had given up on herding him toward the fireplace some time ago. She strokes a featherlight hand over his head. "No sense in stressing yourself out over somethin’ Charles would’ve told us ages ago. It's good that he’s up and movin' though, ain't it?"

Your momentum stalls.

It should be. It should be.

Blackwater has left none unchanged. If you weren’t dead, you were shot, and if you weren’t shot, you were waiting for it. Hands bound. Body trammeled by fear and constant surveillance. From anyone else, this haste would be a blessing. A miracle, even, in light of all that'd been lost.

From Charles, it reads more like a warning.

But you don't think your feet have been planted here long enough to question their habits.

You say nothing and return your still numb cheek to the window. Will it always be like this, you wonder? The second guessing. The wary eyes. There’s a certain degree of trust that you aren’t privy to yet. Somehow, it feels worse knowing that everyone is making an effort to be so kind to you despite it. You know plenty who wouldn’t do the same.

Better dead than dead weight. 

The creed still lingers. Subsisting on what little you've gleaned in the short time you've been running with Dutch's group. Perhaps that's the root of this peculiar sense of worry. Of pity. You and Charles don’t speak often—there's a general lack of overlap in duties, for one, and he mostly keeps to himself. But you've always been one for actions over words. Charles was frighteningly capable, and more than willing to prove it time and time again.

To him, the burn he’d suffered may as well have been a bullet to the leg.

Your only issue is that no one else seems to see it.

You’re tracing shapes into the windowpane when movement just outside startles you. Charles, bow in hand, stalks toward one of the smaller cabins before veering off toward the small stream that lies just behind the stables.

You're springing up and stumbling out the front door before your brain has time to temper your heart. Someone shouts after you—likely Grimshaw, from the way it rakes over your ears. But you ignore it in favor of grabbing handfuls of your skirts and pushing through the powdery snow.

When you round the corner of the stables, breath short and chest tight, you find that Charles hasn’t gone very far at all. He's leaning against a crooked tree, face all taut lines as his fingers fumble with the grip on his bow. A frown plays at your lips when you notice the path of his footprints, stretching a few paces farther before it loops back to where he stands.

“Charles?”

You think you hear him exhale through his nose before he meets your gaze with the same smile he usually does. Bright. Unwavering. A little squinty, since the sun is in his eyes. “You good?”

Right. The usual pleasantries. You've conversed with him in your head for much longer than you have in person.

“I’m uh, fine." You blink stupidly. "Are you?"

“Mhm. Right as rain.”

Your eyes can't help but slide to the bow he clutches just out of sight. He doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest.

“…I’m just holding it, for now. Till my hand heals up, at the very least.” Charles holds up the offending appendage. “Not like I have anything better to do."

It's hard to tell if he's intentionally skirting around the point, or if he really does think there aren't any better uses for his time. The frown you'd been fighting off finally gets the better of you once Charles returns to adjusting his injured hand on the bow's grip.

"I don't think you should be doing that," you insist. Because he really shouldn't be. At all.

"Afraid I can't do that," he replies. "I'm one of the few here who can hunt worth a damn in this weather. I get sloppy, we starve.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“It’s what I know.” He says it with enough certainty to make you almost believe him. “Go back inside and warm yourself up. 'Preciate you checking on me, but if you freeze to death, they’re gonna laugh knowing you came out here without any gloves on.”

You clench your fists. Feel the ice that's settled there begin to splinter under the pressure and breach the thick skin of your palms. Fine, then. You’ll speak to him in a language he can understand.

Though your march over is less than graceful, he parts with the bow with surprising ease. Charles’ warmth, much like the rest of him, is tailored to perfection. Your fingertips graze remnants of the finery on the parts of the parts of the bow that his hands have warmed.

His eyes flick over you. Placid. Confused, too, on account of the ever-tightening grip you have on what you hope isn't a prized possession. His vexation becomes clearer once you step away, full hands now hidden behind your back. You have to take an extra step back for your own peace of mind.

“Charles Smith,” you begin, “I’d like to strike up a deal.”

“A deal.”

“I won’t repeat myself. We’re losin' daylight here.”

Chin tipped upward, you don your favorite facade.

Confidence.

"You focus on takin’ care of that hand, and I won't tell Arthur and Hosea you've been messin' with your bow."

His face belies a slew of unvoiced expletives. But you know Charles to be the—somewhat—gentle sort, so there’s no need to brace yourself. Even if he isn’t entirely convinced, you can at least hope that he’s found a little amusement in all this.

“You said ‘strike a deal,’” he says slowly. “This smells like a threat.”

“Deal, threat, whatever strikes your fancy.” It didn’t matter so long as he stopped stretching himself so thin.

He seems to mull over your words for a bit, no longer leaning up against the tree. There is, however, a small chance that he’s trying to find the right assortment of words to get you off of his back.

“We’ve got two deer.” You continue. “If Pearson is as frugal as I remember, that’ll keep us all for about a week. Should be more than enough time to get your hand back in order, right?”

“Hm.”

There’s a moment where Charles’ uninjured hand begins to stretch towards you. You just barely remember to lean out of the way before he drops his arm with a defeated sigh.

“So no bows—”

“No knives or guns, either. Unless absolutely necessary.”

“—Then how’m I supposed to keep up my strength? Can’t just sit idle, you know. We’ve got people here who need taking care of.” He takes three steps forward, and you take three steps back. “We’ve all got weight to pull out here. I’m of no use to anybody if I’m sitting out over a little burn like this.”

There goes that nasty word again.

Use.

You can joke all you want, but that’s what this boils down to.

“Well, you…just need something to pull on, right? Keep your hands busy?”

You hold out your hand.

The corner of Charles’ lips twitch downward. "I’m keeping my knives on me—"

"Take it."

"…What?"

You laugh. Loud and exaggerated enough to shake the snow off the trees. "Some gentleman you are, lettin’ a lady’s hands grow cold.” You flex your fingers. “My hand. Take it."

You use the awkward silence that follows to explain yourself.

"I figure it's got a little more give than a bow. And it’s got enough resistance to scratch that itch. You ever feel like shooting, ask for me. Hopefully it’ll have you feeling stupid long enough for your hand to heal up."

He brings a hand up to block the sun from his eyes, and you find yourself strangely missing the gold it cast on him. "That's not something I should be asking of you."

"Works out great, don't it? You're not asking, I'm offering, so there's no problem." Or, at least there wouldn't be if things go the way you know they will. It's no well-kept secret that Charles isn't too keen on extra company during his downtime. No one faults him for it, either.

Any chance of him taking you up on your suggestion is slim.

The wind is thunderous where Charles is quiet, snaking through the empty trees.

"Whether you take it or not, I'm walking off with this bow. But I'm not about to let you run yourself into the ground."

You flex your fingers again, and they tremble.

Charles shakes his head, and you're sure you've won—

"Alright. I'll do it."

Well, that's not good.

Violently off track and suddenly very unsure of how to proceed, you drop your hand. Charles, evidently resolute in his decision, says nothing more as he approaches.

You stumble back a bit as his body nears, wishing that the head you house on your shoulders was screwed on a little tighter. You think it's begun to spin when he takes your hand into his own; gently, as if scooping up a wounded bird from the forest floor.

He opens his mouth, then promptly closes it, brows furrowing as he inspects your palm.

Something is loud.

It's your heart, you realize. Stuttering with each squeeze of his bandaged fingers. Consequences are not beneath you, it seems.

You allow him a few more experimental squeezes than you would've liked, but you can't quite shake the strange tremor that races up your throat the longer he holds you.

Nothing is said until he pulls his hand away.

“And I can do this, whenever?”

Your tongue is miles away. “I, uh. No.” Wait. Voice crack. “I mean—yeah. Yes. Whenever.”

Charles makes no note of your vocal blunder, instead taking one last look at the bow you hold before beginning to make his way back to camp.

He taps the hand at your side as he passes. Leans to talk right into your ear. “Keep these wrapped up for me, will you?”

He’s gone before you have a chance to tell him that you would’ve done it without his say-so.

(Damn it, you think. Palm tingling. I’m in some deep shit.)

[hyuckmov]

request #1: meandom!haechan who's still weak for his gf smut, 18+ minors dni, some fluff wc: 1.6k content: oral (f), makeshift gag, pussy slapping, meandom turned softdom haechan, sub-ish reader, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise a/n: i have no idea if this is good or not anyway something good happened to me today and i thought i would spread some joy and finish off with my first request <3 also i know i said 800-1k but i got a bit carried away LOL as always, i hope this is at least a little hot... thank you so much for sending in the request!

haechan pouts at you. it would be an otherwise cute expression if his heart-shaped lips weren't slick from teasing your clit for the past 20 minutes, and if his arms weren't currently wrapped around your thighs and forcing them wide apart. 

"how many times do i have to remind you…" his voice dripping with condescension. "eyes wide open. didn't you promise?"

your mind flits back to how this all began. haechan had been needing some sort of a stress reliever, his hands rough on your skin as he alternated between kissing and biting the side of your neck the moment he arrived home. and while you offered to let him take you then and there, he insisted that he would much prefer it if he could eat you out to his heart's content.

because haechan loved spending his time between your legs, pinning your thighs to each side as he pressed kisses on your clit. circling his tongue over your entrance and sucking and sucking until you were all puffy and ready for him. he didn't usually have the luxury of time when it came to eating you out, as it was either some way to prepare you for his cock, or your whimpers and whines would have driven him completely insane. but today had been different.

tugging your panties down your legs, you barely had time to let out a cry before he had shoved them in your mouth. 

"keep your lips shut and your eyes on me, okay? i don't want any distractions." he gave your cheek a light slap, relishing in the way your head jolted but your eyes never left his, fucked out before he had even really begun. "you promise?"  

you had nodded. 

now, you refocus your eyes on him, going a little cross eyed at the effort to not roll your eyes back into your head at the visual. making his tongue lie flat and wide, he licked broad strokes from your entrance up to your clit, soft moans from him creating a light buzz which sent shocks of pleasure up your spine. not one to keep still, his hips jolted into the bed with each lick, subconsciously chasing his own pleasure while he lost himself in the feeling of your slick folds against his lips. he dipped his tongue into you, feeling you clench. 

"are you close?" he breathes, never removing his lips from you as they formed the words. you begin to nod frantically, having had enough of being edged and ignored for what felt like hours. moving your hips as much as you could in his hold, you try to push yourself against his tongue, fucking yourself onto his face. his nose accidentally bumps against your clit, and you can't help but let out a high whine. 

the sound makes haechan's eyes narrow. releasing your legs from his hold, he gets up to sit back on his heels, depriving you of any touch completely. 

"that's two promises you've broken, baby," he says, but the petname is devoid of any of its usual warmth. there's a sharpness in his voice that's rehearsed and deliberate, and somewhere in the back of your mind you can't say it doesn't thrill you. 

his hand reaches out to caress your inner thigh, edging closer and closer to the space between your legs. suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, he delivers a harsh slap to your pussy. you mewl, involuntarily arching your back at how the feeling stings.

"you're gushing," he mocks. roughly, he prods two fingers around your hole, spreading your arousal all around. "does baby enjoy being punished?" 

you can't decide whether to shake your head or nod your head, so you give a tiny whimper. 

"jury's still out?" he pouts again, and it's almost obscene how the innocent expression tugs at his features, as if he hadn't buried his face in your cunt a minute ago. "guess we'll have to try again." this time, you're a bit more prepared for when his hand comes down on your clit twice, your hips stuttering as you try to jolt away and chase his touch at the same time. affected more than he's letting on, he lets out a groan as he watches the way your body shudders, completely ruined and ready for him.

"gonna fuck you now," he breathes, tugging his sweatpants off hastily. his heavy hands pull at your waist, arranging your limbs so that your hips are tilted towards him and your legs are pushed up, almost brushing his shoulders. lining himself up to your entrance, he taps his hard cock a few times against your clit, running it along your slit as he throws his head back to let out a low moan. his eyes half lidded, he begins to pump his cock lazily, spreading a mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum all over his shaft. 

he looks so pretty in the moment, his chest heaving, his face glistening in an ethereal way and his eyebrows furrowing with a small crease as he pleasures himself. puffy lips stretched open as he pushes his tongue into his cheek, his whimpers melting with the obscene sounds of him stroking himself filling up the still air in the room, that the words slip out of your mouth as a mumble of sounds. 

"what?" he pants, reaching in your mouth with his unoccupied hand to tug out your makeshift gag. he harshly squeezes at your cheeks a few times as you take in a few deep breaths. "words." 

"i love you," you say, softly. the haze in your mind slowly clearing, you wrap a hand on his wrist and pull his hand off your face, intertwining your fingers together. "you're so good to me. i love you." 

haechan stills. it's not his first time hearing you tell him you love him, so why does it make his heart start to race in an entirely different way? his cheeks flush red, as he looks down at your hand clasped in his, something so sweet and tender about the way your fingers caress his. 

"you're so pretty," you continue, mumbling to yourself more than him. you can't reach his face or his neck to trace the moles you know by memory, so you settle for giving his side a small squeeze. 

at your words, at the look of you all pliant and lovely beneath him, all the harshness drained out of his body as he lowered your legs down onto the bed gently. leaning down to wrap you into an embrace, his mouth finally finds yours as he kisses you slowly and deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

"haechan…" you start, before biting your lip, trying to keep your sounds to yourself. 

he shakes his head. "wanna hear you, baby," he tugs your bottom lip out with his teeth before kissing you again, his hands moving to your chest to softly thumb over your nipples. "let's take it slow from now, okay?" it's almost jarring, the way he makes soft shushing noises to comfort you as he pushes into you slowly, his cock stretching you open little by little. 

"so fucking good, baby," he mouths against your skin, a slight tremble coursing through him as he tries not to cum immediately at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in. "fuck, are you okay?" running a soothing hand along your thigh, he coaxes you into relaxing your muscles, and the tension in your body clears. 

"wanna cum, haechan, please," you choke out, the feeling of him buried within your walls but not moving, your clit left neglected after rounds of relentless teasing, being too much to bear. "i've been good, i've-" 

"you've been perfect," haechan cuts you off gently, pressing kisses from your collarbones up to the space under your jaw which always makes you melt inside. "my baby's always perfect for me." 

with that, he begins to move, rolling his hips into you, gentle fingers rubbing at your clit in circular motions in time with each thrust. "feels so good, baby," he praises. "so warm and so wet, fuck…" 

you think you can feel all of him, each vein and each ridge, the head of his cock hitting the soft spot inside you that has you coming undone on him rapidly. you whimper, hands pawing at his chest trying to let him know you were close, but haechan is already steps ahead. his free hand intertwines with yours, and he squeezes your hand tight as he speeds up, barely pulling out with each stroke before he's stuffing you full of him again. 

"cum for me please? wanna feel you cum on me," he murmurs, gently sponging kisses on your shoulder. you cum just like that, moans and curses falling from your mouth as you fall apart on his fingers and cock. the visual of you, back arching against him and mouth slack-jawed with pleasure, pushes haechan over the edge too as he lets go, spilling his warm cum into you. 

"love feeling you around me," he gasps, motions slowing to a stop, but the words twist into a sharp whine as you start to fuck yourself onto him, desperate for more. "fuck, stop, it's too much-" 

"haechan," you plead with him. "i need you." the pent up frustration making you feel needy again, as you push your hips upwards. 

he doesn't know exactly what effect you have on him, all he knows is that he needs to satisfy you, needs to hear more of your pretty sounds and feel your hands tracing against his skin. tears sting at his eyes as he pushes through the overstimulation, thrusting into your swollen pussy, feeling himself getting hard again. 

"love you," he groans, as you latch yourself onto him, wanting to feel him as much as possible. "love you so much."  and you can tell from the way he makes you cum again, and again, and again, that he does. tags: @91qowngus, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author (wasn't able to tag those in italics, idk why😭)

[peachesofteal]

On a Slow Night

Belongs in the Dead Disco - verse, but can be read as standalone.

Ghost/Soap/female reader 8.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dominant/submissive. Smut of all kinds: male oral receiving, female oral receiving, barebacking, rimming, vaginal sex, anal sex, orgasm control and denial, creampie. Praise kink. Double Penetration. Possessive Simon Riley. Aftercare. Angst. Jealousy. Anxiety. Emotional hurt/comfort. Porn with feelings. Relationship issues. Simon takes control. This is a FLASHBACK, but I chose not to italicize the entire thing. Takes place before Chap 1 of Dead Disco.

It’s the tone of your voices that wakes Simon from where he sleeps, alone in the bed. It’s the sharp, raw edge of your words, your pitch dipped in malcontent, and Johnny’s low, harsh spitting, that has him sitting straight up, eyes narrowed, listening with intent.

You’re fighting. About what? Your voice peaks an octave, and then drops immediately, broken up by the crest of a sob, a sound of distress that has him out of bed and into the kitchen within a second’s time. 

“What is going on here?” He asks quietly, and Johnny returns his query with a pleading gaze, but you stare a spot on the countertop, eyes flush with tears. When the two of you stay silent, a flare of irritation creeps up his spine. “Well?” 

“It’s-“  Johnny begins but you speak over him, cutting him off efficiently. 

“I have to go to work.” You say to no one in particular, to your feet more than either of them. He glances at the clock and grimaces. If you don’t leave in the next five to ten minutes, you’ll be late. Not nearly enough time. You grab your bag, and your mug, turning on your heel for the door. Acid rises in the back of his throat when he realizes that you’re not even going to say goodbye to them, not going to kiss him, or Johnny, not going to let them tell you to have a good day or let Simon fuss over making sure you have your water bottle and your laptop charger, two things that commonly get left on the table. 

When the door swings shut, lead settles in his stomach while Johnny folds his hands, fingers battling each other with anxiety. 

“Johnny.” He breathes. “What the fuck?” 

“She wasn’t listening to me, and then it just… got out of control. I snapped at her.” Simon rubs the spot between his shoulder blades in a circle, nodding while Johnny breaks down everything that happened. The replay of last night. The sequence of events this morning, everything up until when Simon appeared from the bedroom, and you darted out the door.

You had been crying, this morning, when Johnny got up as he usually does to see you off to work. It’s a cherished part of his routine, when they’re home. Having breakfast with you, talking about your day, or not talking at all, just enjoying a few quiet moments before you leave, helping you put together your work bag or making you a cup of coffee. But this morning, when you were unusually frosty, and he had asked you what was wrong, you had tried to brush him off, tried to tell him what you were thinking was stupid, and that you didn’t want to talk about it.

And Johnny couldn’t have that. He knew what you were dwelling on, knew the streak of jealousy from last night was still present, sitting heavily on your mind. He tried to push you, kept prodding, ignoring the warning signs, blowing past your indicators that you were in an extremely sensitive state, until you turned on him with a snarl, body language tense and face closed off.

“Did you have him more than twice then?” you had asked, “Was he like me?”

“No one is like you, darling.” Johnny had tried to assure you, comfort you, but it fell flat.

“Yeah, okay. Why then, did you always tell me, you never slept with anyone more than once… and then there’s a guy in the bar not even down the fucking block that the two of you conveniently forgot to mention you shared at least twice!” 

“You should have woken me.” He keeps the bitterness from his voice, but Johnny doesn’t need it to know that Simon is upset. He reads him too easily.

“I thought everything was fine. ‘m sorry.” Simon knows he believed that, that he really did think everything was fine. After all, they brought you home last night and spent hours in bed, reassuring, reconfirming your place with them, until you were happy and sated, asleep in their arms with a little smile on your face. He runs his fingers through the mohawk soothingly.

“Everyone’s a little on edge right now, I think.” It’s not an excuse, but the truth. It was a longer op, and the time between this most recent one and the one before was hardly even a week. Not to mention, Johnny almost got himself blown up during this one, and Simon pulled a muscle in his back in the first week. They’ve been home for two weeks now, and their emotional states are still a little more fragile than either of them would care to admit, while you were trying so damn hard to keep yourself together for them, to keep your chin up. Simon knows it’s because you don’t want to feel like a burden, that you think you depending on them causes additional stress, but he’s seen the cracks in the surface for a few days, so it did not particularly surprise him when you crumbled last night. He’s been waiting, and waiting, impatiently, for you to let go, for you to drop the mask and let them step in.

He just didn’t want it to be like this.

Simon’s phone vibrates against the coffee table in the late afternoon, alerting both of them from where they sit on the couch. Johnny fidgets nervously, and Simon stills him with a firm grip on his thigh while he opens the text.

It’s in the group chat, between the three of you. A quick note that you’re going to be late tonight, and they shouldn’t wait to eat dinner. Simon scowls.

“Late?” Johnny questions, while Simon types a reply: ‘How late?’

Your answer comes a minute later: ‘Not sure. I have a fast-approaching deadline for this exhibit review that I’m behind on and if it’s not done, the director will ream me.’

Simon lets out a burst of a sigh, body expanding and relaxing with tense pressure while he types: ‘We’ll wait for you darling, don’t worry about that.’

You reply almost immediately: ‘You don’t have to.’ He frowns. Avoidance? It’s rare, from you. You usually get so full up with your own thoughts and feelings that you physically can’t avoid something, having to address it, talk about it, until you feel better, until it’s not overpowering you anymore. Johnny shifts next to him, blue eyes stricken while he reads from the screen.

“Is she… avoiding us?” He too, recognizes it, this outlier. Simon texts back. ‘We will.’

Three bubbles pop up on the screen, and then disappear.

It’s far past late by the time you get home. Johnny has taken to pacing around the flat, doing laundry and other things to occupy his mind, detailing the grout in the bathroom and nervously flitting about doing fuck all while Simon sits on the couch, trying to read a book and failing.

They’ve both been sitting in the living room for an hour by the time ten pm rolls around and you walk through the door, the sun long set, night overtaking the city and drenching it in an inky darkness that spreads throughout their home as well.

“Hi.” You drop your bag unceremoniously on the table, crossing your arms. Defensive posture, Simon notes. This is going to go real bloody well. “You really didn’t have to wait for me.” You complain, looking between the two of them, lingering for a long moment. Johnny stands, preparing, and Simon notices how your shoulders slump, just a fraction, tense energy leaking from your body while you lock eyes with him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, eagerly. “I’m so, so sorry love. I shouldn’t have pushed you this morning. I lost my head… I was worried and I- I have no excuse. I should not have snapped at you. You are so precious to me, and I never, ever want to make you feel that way.” He steps closer, and closer, tentative hand in the air, reaching for you while Simon holds his breath, waiting to see how you’ll respond. He’s waiting for the inevitable, the crumble, the fall of everything you’ve been holding in, all the feelings and thoughts and rot you’ve been holding up. The emotional catharsis. The breaking point.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you heave a big, loud sigh, and wilt into Johnny’s arms.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for being dramatic.” Dramatic? You’re not dramatic. They’ve told you this a thousand times. He frowns, something new twisting in his gut, a feeling of something being really wrong creeping through his bones. What is going on with you? Johnny’s too distracted by being relieved, being grateful for your easy forgiveness that he misses the way your eyes tighten before going lax again, and Simon watches you bury your head in neck immediately afterwards, your arms going around Johnny like you’re holding on for dear life. Simon follows you both as Johnny pulls you along with him into the kitchen, settling you at the counter on the stool while he pulls dinner from the oven, little savory chicken pies, one of your favorite meals, still warm and ready to be eaten, and you clap your hands with excitement when he places yours in front of you.

“You didn’t have to.” You gush, and Johnny blushes prettily, over the moon with the change in your mood, your smiling face.

“Simon, sit.” He points to the seat next to you, and he takes it, all while studying you, noticing everything from the way you’re holding your fork to what your free hand is doing in your lap. Johnny coughs. “What’s wrong?” his tone is suspicious, and you turn to look at Simon with wide, curious eyes. He forces a smile and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

A week later, it all comes crashing down. It’s a Friday, and you’ve worked from home, spent most of the day alone in the flat while they both had to go across town for a brief before their scheduled departure in another week and a half. Johnny stops at the market on the way back, having promised everyone curry tonight, so Simon beats him home, eager to get out of his starched clothing and into sweats, and hopefully drag you away from work for the rest of the evening to sit on the couch with him, curled up in his lap while the two of you wait for Johnny to get home.

Instead, something else happens all together.

You’re pacing, in front of the kitchen table, hand on your neck while you stop occasionally to bend at the waist and read something on your laptop. You don’t even acknowledge him when the door opens, and as he gets closer, he realizes your hand isn’t just on your neck, but it has a fist full of hair in it as well, the strands pulled so tight it looks painful. Your breakfast sits untouched on a plate, pushed away, and your eyes dart around the room, briefly touching over him before flicking back to the screen.

“Darling?” he calls, taking his jacket off slowly. You ignore him, shaking your head like you’ve heard him but can’t be bothered to acknowledge him, typing away at something from your half standing, half bending position. He’s close enough to see an email chain on the screen, long paragraphs broken up, your cursor blinking in front of one half written.

“I’m sorry.” You say, not even sparing him a glance. “I’m sorry I’m just dealing with something right now, there’s a lot going on and-“ He stills you, pulling at your forearm, trying to loosen your grip around your hair that you’ve wrapped so tight, it’s made imprints in your skin.

“Hey.” He squeezes your wrist, just enough to pull your attention, eyes partially glazed over, like you’re not even really in your own head right now. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just dealing with something, at work. There’s a lot going on.” You repeat it robotically, and he tilts his head in consideration, running a thumb under your jaw to tip your face upwards. There’s something… off, in your eyes. Something uneasy lurking in your gaze, something wrong, off balance.

“Alright. That’s enough work for today, I think.” He reaches past you and closes the laptop while you gasp a protest.

“Si, no! I have to finish, there’s stuff going on you don’t understand I need to-“

“Is anyone dying?”

“N-no but-“

“And it’s Friday, which means your boss isn’t back until Monday. It can wait.”

“I have to-“

“It can wait.” This time, he puts the authority behind his voice, the razor’s edge, to test the waters. To see, how you react.

You freeze. You’re holding your breath, eyes darting wildly around the flat like you’re looking for an escape of some sort. You reach for him, hand latching onto his forearm, and he realizes you’re shaking. He tries to pull you closer, but you lock up, immobile, except for the intense increase in your shivering.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know- I d-don’t know what’s wrong I, I’m sorry.” You repeat it over and over, frantic, tipping into hysteria and he shoves down his own panic so he can do what he needs to do.

Take over.

Take control.

He grips the back of your neck, the motion signaling you to what will happen next, and then pulls you into his chest, head tipped down so his lips hover just over your ear.

“It’s alright darling, just breathe.” When you do, he rewards you with praise, light and affectionate. “Good girl, just like that.” He counts them for you, one in, one out, two in, two out, and so on until they come easily, and you relax more into him, breathing languid, body calm. “Okay, you’re going to get in the shower. You will tell me if you want me to get in with you, or you need my help with something, like washing your hair.” You gulp, and he soothes a hand down your spine. “Yes?” He prompts and you nod slowly before giving your agreement. Recognition, acceptance, dances across your face, and he knows you know.

“Yes, Simon.” He hums his own acknowledgement, and then manages to shoot a text off to Johnny while ushering you towards the bathroom, one hand firm on your nape.

‘Get home. Right now.’

He’s sitting on the bed facing the door when Johnny blows through it, eyes seeking his.

“What’s going on?” he rushes out. “What’s wrong?” Simon holds his hand up, a clear stop signal, and Johnny screeches to a halt, a few paces into the bedroom.

“Tell me your safe word, Johnny.” Johnny’s eyes go wide, and then glances at the bathroom door, where the shower runs, and the sound of a drawer opens and shuts. “Your safe word, MacTavish.” Simon repeats and Johnny swallows.

“It’s bomb, sir.”

“When do you use it?”

“When I need a hard stop.” Simon nods.

“Good. And what if you can’t speak?” He points to the floor, the intended directive incredibly clear, and Johnny sinks to his knees without another thought.

“Then I tap twice.” He whispers his answer, to which Simon nods.

“Good boy.”

“What’s going on?” He asks again, because he’s allowed to, but Simon doesn’t answer. Instead he unzips his pants as he closes the distance between them, hand fisting his cock while he looms over where Johnny kneels.

“Open.” He pats his jaw, and Johnny parts his lips obediently, mouth glistening, wet and warm, waiting for Simon. He groans as he feeds him his cock slowly, pressing down against his tongue, choking him gradually, pulling out and pushing into his mouth with an achingly slow, leisurely pace. “What’s going on-“ he casually says, like he isn’t shoving the width of his cock into Johnny’s eager mouth. “is that I failed to take control of a rapidly deteriorating situation when I should have.” He rubs a hand through Johnny’s hair, admiring his sweet boy from this viewpoint, his crystal blue eyes and heavenly soft skin, perfect and pretty, just for him and you. It’s enough to make his knees fucking weak, with how much he loves him. How lucky Simon is, to have him. To have you both, like this. Sweet for him. Submissive for him. Willing, for him.

Which is why, when something like this happens, Simon is always the one who steps in and takes over. Who takes control.

He makes eye contact with Johnny while he pushes deeper, swiping his finger through the drool that drips from his bottom lip. “This is my fault, my responsibility. For not stepping in after that spat last week.” He draws out, holding the crown of his cock at Johnny’s messy lips, giving him a moment, a chance to speak, or tap, and breathe, before plunging back in, cramming himself to the hilt, until Johnny’s nose is pressed to the curls of his pubic hair. “But we’re going to fix that, now. We’re going to fix it all.” Johnny nods eagerly, humming with Simon shoved in his throat, the vibration sending a shiver up Simon’s spine.

The water in the shower shuts off, and they both hear the glass of the door open and shut. Simon pulls Johnny forward, walking him on his knees, cock still languishing in his mouth, until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sits, settling Johnny between his thighs and instructing him not to move, to just sit there and be a good cock warmer until he gives him another directive. Johnny’s eyes bliss out after a minute, and satisfaction warms Simon’s belly. Good boy. 

The bathroom door creaks open, to reveal you wrapped in a towel, cautiously peeking out at the two of them, feet arched like a dancers, walking on your tip toes.

“Um.” You squeak. You’ve got a wall back up; he can already tell. Whatever cracked earlier when he got home has been patched over, and he sighs, all the while, delicious anticipation curls in his heart. He’s going to make both of you cry tonight. 

“Darling.” He calls, steeling his voice. You need a stronger hand, in times like these. You’re headstrong, and resilient, and stubborn, all of these things that make you just that more special to him, to Johnny. But these things can also get you hurt. They can derail you, bully you into pushing through when you clearly need the opposite, when you desperately need to break instead. Good thing he’s happy to help. He points to the bottle of lube on the dresser near you, a silent command, and you grip it in nervous fingers as you creep closer. When you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you down to his mouth for a kiss, something gentle and loving, a tender reminder of his love for you, before pulling away and pointing at the floor, right next to Johnny.  

“What is your safe word?” Your eyes flick to Johnny, who doesn’t move, just stays steady, even with Simon’s cock pressed against his tongue.

“It’s, uh. Paint.” He nods. The hesitation wasn’t because you don’t know your word, he knows that. It’s because your brain is trying to piece together what exactly is happening at a rapid pace, to try to prepare you.

“Good girl. When do you use it?”

“When I need to stop.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

“I tap three times.” You and Johnny’s taps are different, so he can differentiate them, if ever need be. It’s never been necessary, but he’d rather be safe, than be sorry when it came to either of you.

“You tap three times.” He repeats, and then pulls at your towel, which you let go willingly. Both he and Johnny are still fully clothed, which will be remedied eventually, but for now, he’s content to sit here with your body bare to him, the swell of your hips and breasts, the sheen of your still damp skin, sending lust licking down his spine.

You sit perfectly, palms above your knees, knees together while he thrusts very gently in Johnny’s mouth, not nearly enough, but adequate for right now, considering his release is likely hours away. You watch, mouth slack, eyes lidded, thighs shifting just barely, and he smirks to himself. He was so pleasantly surprised when they found you. When he discovered you fit so perfectly, with them. When he learned what your face looks like when you come for them. He was scared, terrified, but still surprised, when he realized he was thinking about you on ops, when he realized that Johnny was thinking about while on ops. And he was shocked when you started to let them in. Let them take care of you, let them see you. It didn’t take long before he wanted more and more and Johnny met him on it blow for blow, until they were both commandeering all your time when they weren’t on missions and when the three of you were laughing in bed in the middle of night, swapping stories and daydreaming about a future.

A future that he thought was impossible.

A future that is now more in his grasp than it ever has been before.

If they don’t make a fucking mess of it.

He pulls Johnny off his cock by his mohawk, lips making a wet pop while he tips his head backwards, latching their mouths together. Simon pushes his tongue inside, sweeping between his teeth, tasting the salted remnant of himself, before pulling away.

“Take off your clothes, get in the shower, be quick.” He orders, and Johnny scrambles to his feet, hastily working his buttons and boots, stripping as quickly as he can manage while practically running to the bathroom. “Darling, come here.” He pats his leg, and you hoist yourself onto the bed, allowing him to pull and arrange you so you straddle his thigh. You’re already wet, he can see the evidence of your need, your want, on his leg, and he presses his thumb against your bottom lip. “What happened to my darling girl?” He asks, and you blink, confused. “What happened to our sweet, sensitive girl who knows it’s okay to depend on us for what she needs?” Your brow furrows.

“I’m right here.” You whisper and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think you are.” He kisses your cheek, and then the tip of your nose while gripping you by the back of your neck. “I think you’ve been shoving your feelings down into the dark somewhere. Afraid to let go for some reason.”

“Simon…no.” your whisper is heavy now, tinged with something sad, something reluctant. It’s not the tears he’s looking for, not yet, but he’ll get you there. He always does.

“That’s alright love. We’re going to fix it.” He assures you, and strokes a featherlight touch across your thighs, listening to the sharp intake of breath that hisses between your teeth when he strokes over the seam of your cunt, just enough to feel the seep of wetness there, before tracing up to roll one of your nipples between his fingers. Your teeth bite down into your bottom lip while he’s content to sit there just like that for a while, teasing you until the bathroom door opens, revealing a naked Johnny, standing in the frame, waiting for instruction.

“Johnny.” He says, not taking his eyes off you, still holding you with one hand by the neck. He releases your nipple to motion to the side of the bed, a glaringly open space where his Sergeant’s body belongs. “On your back.” He obliges him easily, leaning backwards, stretching his toned abdomen long, the swell of his cock laying against his belly, leaking precome in a lazy, wonderful way that makes Simon’s mouth water a little. He holds your jaw in his fingers and turns your head to look at Johnny. “Isn’t he lovely?” He murmurs into your ear, and you try to nod.

“Perfect.” You breathe, and he agrees. Johnny is perfect, Johnny is the love of his life, his partner, forever. Unmatchable. Irreplaceable. Irreplicable.  

And so are you, even if you don’t realize it yet.

“Here are the rules.” He begins, shifting you to lay next to him, also on your back. Your knees are bent, and you let one go lax, knocking into Johnny’s, exposing your bare pussy just so for Simon, just a glimpse. His blood heats, and he starts to strip off his clothes while he speaks. “You, darling. Don’t get to come unless I give you permission.” You wiggle against the sheets, anticipation brewing in your eyes. Your hand reaches for Johnny’s, and he interlaces his fingers with yours in a heartbeat. “Johnny, can come at any time as long as he asks for permission, and he can come when you do, without permission.” His eyes snap incredulously to Simon, who allows a wicked smile to scrawl across his face. He leans over the two of you, kissing Johnny’s shoulder and then yours. “Johnny’s going to put your plug in, love. Because we’re both going to have you later.” He tells you, and you visibly brighten, excitement pushing your cheeks into a smile. It’s not an easy thing, to take them both, and something that only happens with enough prep and time, both of which he plans on having tonight.

He pulls the plug from the drawer in the nightstand, handing it to Johnny with the bottle of lube, and you turn obediently onto your knees, ass up in the air, cheek laying on Simon’s thigh. He strokes your skin soothingly while Johnny compresses the plug in his hand, warming the cool metal with a huff of breath, and then spreading lube over the ring of muscle between your cheeks, dipping his thumb in and out of you painstakingly slowly, just pushing against the rim as it flutters for him. You whimper.

“Like what you see?” Simon drawls, and Johnny nods.

“Okay, ready?”

“Y-yeah.” You croak. You usually take the plug no problem, but that’s also after a few orgasms, and a few fingers. They don’t usually use it as the warmup act. Johnny’s thumb for a handful of minutes is not quite as good, but you’re experienced now, and Simon is intending to use the burn of the stretch to his advantage, hoping the sting and bite speeds you along to the point of no return. Simon rubs your shoulders, while Johnny lowers it towards where you’re spread for him.

“Okay darling, nice and easy.” He coaches.

“Push out.” Simon reminds you, and you do, letting out a puff of air against his thigh. He massages your arm, your wrist soothingly, and you hiss, your reaction letting him know you’re spreading over the widest part. “Well done.” He murmurs, stroking some hair away from your temple. “Good girl.” You give him a syrupy smile, eyes a little dazed, and he rewards you with a kiss, before pulling both Johnny and you into his embrace. “I love you.” He vows. “We are going to correct whatever it is that has our girl all mixed up.” You huff indignantly, playfully, and he pinches your cheek in response. He loves this stubborn streak of yours but loves to break it even more. He presses his mouth against your neck, and then up to your lips, drawing breathy rasps from you with his lips, pulling you back up to a seated position against him, in between his thighs, spreading your legs to give Johnny a perfect view.

“Christ.” Johnny hisses, reaching out to touch you, dragging a finger through your soaking folds. You whimper, and he thinks reality is truly setting in for you now, the realization of the task ahead. He lets his own hand carefully drift down to your cunt, fingers exploring your body while you practically buzz in his arms, nerve endings already alight from the plug that’s settled in your ass.

“Shhh.” He soothes when he feels just how soaked you are, feels how hard your clit is beneath his touch while you jerk in his grasp, one arm pinning you against his chest. “Poor darling.” He works you slowly, feeling how your body responds to him, your hips moving in small, bucking movements. It goes on for minutes that feel like hours, until you’re whining and chasing his touch with your body.

“Simon.” You whimper.

“Johnny, will you taste her for me?” He asks to which Johnny eagerly agrees, bending to press his face into your eager cunt. He sucks at your clit before stroking his tongue up and down, sloppily eating you out, flicking your clit over and over while you pant.

“P-please, Simon. Please.” You plead, and he licks a salt-sweat trail up your neck to below your ear, where he plants a delicate kiss on the skin under your earlobe. Your body thrashes, trying to get more leverage, trying to grind against Johnny’s face but he wraps his legs around yours, pinning you effectively with his thighs. You whine, and your fingers sink into his flesh, your body pressing into his back, like you’re bearing down, preparing to come all over Johnny’s face.

“Don’t come.” He orders. You gasp, and he watches your stomach tense and flex, while he plays with your nipples lazily.

“Fuck.” You moan, and Johnny groans, eyes flicking up to where the two of you watch him.

“Don’t let her come, Johnny. Or it will be your punishment.” He says, and you squirm in his arms. Johnny pulls away, mouth soaked with you, and slides a deft finger into your cunt, twisting his wrist for the correct leverage. He’s smiling in a half sweet, half smirking way, watching his finger disappear inside of you unabashedly. Simon joins him, reaching down for where your clit is throbbing, pad of his finger swirling in the absolute mess between your legs before rubbing around your swollen nub’s hood, and then pushing inside of you next to Johnny’s digit, your body greedily accepting them both, cunt clenching hard around them.

“Oh my god.” Your head rocks back into Simon’s chest, panting with desperation. “Fuck, fuck I- I ca-can’t.” you protest, eyes smarting with tears, and he pulls away, trailing his touch back up to your clit, where he gives it a light pinch.

“Don’t you dare.” He demands and you shriek when he slaps your pussy, palm making contact with your clit, your legs jolting under his thighs. He brushes some hair from your face, your forehead damp with sweat, before pressing a kiss to your temple and reaching for Johnny’s cock, wrapping a fist around it and stroking him slowly. You’re still leaning against his back, but slouched now, and he can see the swell of your clit, the glisten of your thighs, soaked with your own arousal, from where he sits. “Do you want to feel him inside you, darling?” He asks, squeezing your flesh. You nod readily, shifting, until you’re spread wider, and he’s pulling your leg up by your knee, and then your calf. “Go ahead, Johnny. Give her your cock.” He watches when Johnny pushes inside of you, your body eagerly taking him, stretching around him. You hiss while he moves, clenching your eyes shut for a moment, before taking a deep breath, and letting go a little, body depressurizing gradually. It’s snug, he’s sure, with the plug and Johnny inside of you, and he rubs your clit in a circle, watching your face, delighted. When Johnny starts to pick up a faster pace, he presses his hand to his stomach, slowing him.

“Does that feel good?” he asks you, looking up at Johnny who’s watching the glide of his cock pump in and out of your pussy, agonizingly slow, his legs practically shaking with restraint.

“Unnf- I-“ you babble, hands against your chest. You’re concentrating, face intense, and he knows you’re trying so bloody hard not to come. Trying to be good.

“Do you want it faster?” He asks, fake sincerity dripping from his voice. You nod hastily, and he inclines his head to Johnny, who reads the signal well, picking up his pace, body slamming into yours while you practically scream in Simon’s arms.

“Si- Simon.” You sputter and wheeze. “Please, can I come?” your voice is thick, and he makes a show of appearing like he considers it before shaking his head with a simple no.

“No, darling. Slow down, Johnny.” Johnny groans, pressing his face into where your calf is still raised in the air, nipping at your skin while he drags his cock in and out of your body, excruciatingly slow.

“Nononono. Pl-please, Johnny- Harder.” Simon shakes his head, and Johnny face screws up, like he’s about to cry. He thrusts deep and Simon presses down on your lower belly, causing you to cry out. “Fuck, oh, fu-fuck. Oh- Si. I’m gonna-“

“No.” He pushes Johnny back, causing him to pull halfway out, and you whimper. “I think you need a break.” He murmurs, and you shake your head violently.

“No, no no, please…” But your pleading is no use, because Johnny’s already pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting. Simon motions for him to turn around, and he does eagerly, returning to his back, knees to the ceiling.

“Can you get our good boy ready for me?” He asks you, pitching his voice affectionately. “Don’t you think he deserves some attention?” You shake the stupor off, legs shaking underneath you while you lick your lips, and bend forward, crawling between Johnny’s thighs and perking your ass up into the air, right in front of Simon while you take Johnny’s cock between your lips. You’re trying to tempt him, trying to get him to plunge his cock inside of you, to make you come.

He wants to. He wants to so badly, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your flesh appreciatively, and you moan around Johnny, the vibration of your throat making the muscles in his thighs tense. You briefly glance over your shoulder before you adjust, your tongue dragging downwards over Johnny, where you prop his thigh on your shoulder and start to prep him for Simon, little grunts and whispers loosing from his lips while you work. You use your tongue first, lavishing his rim, slowly coaxing him into a relaxed state while you push into him, just barely. You stay like that for a while, working him open slowly, while Simon leisurely watches, occasionally ghosting a hand over your skin, or trailing his finger from where you’re dripping wet and swirling it around where your own rim is stretched around the plug, your muscles jumping and tensing beneath his touch. You’ll take them both tonight, and even though he clearly already made that decision, the image of you being full of both him and Johnny wracks him with a delicious shiver. Johnny moans, pulling his attention, to where you’ve got a finger pressing inside him now, dipping in and out of him gradually, teasingly, spit dripping from your mouth onto his perineum. You add a second, and Johnny groans, back arching just so when you crook your fingers up, seeking the spot that makes him lose his mind.

“Bloody- hell.” Simon can just barely see the curve of your lip, the evidence of your smile, your pure enjoyment when Johnny reacts to you, and it flushes him with something warm, something so sweet and soft it manages to surprise him. Only for them. 

“That’s it, good girl.” He praises you self-indulgently, because he knows what it does to you, knows how it can derail your focus and turn you to putty in their hands. “D’ya think he’s ready?” You nod, two fingers still stroking slowly inside of Johnny, pulling pleasure from him while you beam, his body pliant and sweet for Simon. He swats your ass because he can’t help it, loves to watch how your skin ripples under him, how your body moves for him, and you quiver.

He pulls you away, kissing the back of your neck while he shifts Johnny to the edge of the bed by his legs, moving him so his calves sit on Simon’s shoulders. Johnny locks eyes with him for a moment, and there’s something vulnerable there, something so gentle that Simon can’t help but drop his ankles and press his body on top of his, cradling Johnny’s face between his palms, kissing him softly.

“Alright?” he asks, and Johnny nods, eagerly before letting out a scratchy reply.

“Fuck me already.” He begs, and Simon chuckles, rearing up, pushing his knees towards his chest. You lay on your back, panting next to Johnny, staring up at Simon with wide, thirst filled eyes. He pulls one of your knees wide, admiring your weeping cunt, before pressing into Johnny slowly, giving him time to adjust, and the feel of him around his cock shoots straight to Simon’s brain, filling him with dizzying satisfaction. His body gives way for him, stretching to fit him just as he always does, and something burns inside Simon, some fierce feeling of possession, of love, fills him when he watches how Johnny’s face shifts the deeper he gets.

“Y’ feel so good.” He growls it, and Johnny moans, his muscles going taut as Simon works his cock in and out of Johnny’s body, the rhythm growing faster and faster, Johnny’s voice becoming desperately sharp whines and pleas.

“More, Si. F-fuck, more.” And he’s tempted, so tempted to fuck wildly into Johnny, to fill him with his come, but there’s more, there’s so much more to this night than the easy way out, and he has to take it slow.

“Christ, Johnny. Yer so fuckin’ tight.” He groans, folding himself forward to drag his lips across his skin in worship. Johnny moans, loudly, and Simon grinds his hips against his ass, pushing deep, fucking into Johnny unforgivably, grinding against the little sweet spot while his cock dribbles pathetically onto his belly. He strokes him, hand squeezing around the base on the down stroke, staving off a potential orgasm each time. Johnny shudders as Simon increases his pace, pumping faster, harder, all while squeezing the base of his cock, watching how Johnny writhes for him. “Touch yourself, love.” He instructs you, and your finger swirls around your clit, eyes locked on the two of them, drinking up the sight of them fucking like you always do, and the sound of their skin slapping together echoes around the room while you whimper.  

“Si-“ He howls, walls fluttering around Simon, his cock swollen and red, desperate to spill every time Simon grinds against him. He’s already so close, worked up after being inside of you, ready to come at any moment. “Shite, I- I-“

“What’s the rule, MacTavish?” He snarls, and Johnny blanches.

“Please can I come, I need ta come, please sir-“ he chokes off when Simon rubs his thumb over his tip, smearing the leaking precome around his head, while still plunging his cock through and through his body. You whimper, voice desperate, gaze wide, and he can tell that you’re close too. Perfect. 

“What a good boy, Johnny. Telling me what you need.” He tuts. “Do you want me to make you come?” There are tears in Johnny’s eyes, one spilling out down past his temple, and it’s a beautiful sight.

“Yes, y-es, cannae- fuck.” Simon glances over to you, where you’re frozen on the bed, hand not moving, suspended in the air, and he smirks. Smart girl. Johnny’s orgasms always push you over the edge. 

“Come for me then, come on. Let me see it.” He releases his grip from the base of Johnny’s shaft, pumping him once, twice, before Johnny’s body is locking up and he’s screaming, walls strangling down on Simon’s cock so much that he has to completely stop moving, otherwise he’ll come too. He strokes his cock through the orgasm, until it’s too much and Johnny’s whimpering through the overstimulation, hand trying to grab Simon’s wrist. “Good boy, did so well for me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss him, slotting his lips against Johnny’s and giving him gentle, measured kisses until his breathing returns to normal and Simon is pulling his cock from his body slowly. He checks him, quickly, for tearing or damage, and then sweeps stray mohawk hairs from his forehead, giving him another honeyed kiss. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Johnny responds, a little dazed but satisfied, and Simon leans over to you, brushing his lips across your kneecap, before cupping your pussy gently and pressing down on your clit.

“Don’t move.” He orders, rising from the bed, pulling a washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning himself efficiently with soap and warm water, before discarding it and returning to the two of you with a new one.

When he steps back onto the bed, Johnny’s laying curled around you, arms holding you tight to him, your face in his neck, chest heaving, and it’s enough to give him pause, reminding him to take a moment. He presses a palm against your spine, encouraging you to look at him, allowing you to take your time when you turn your head. You have a faraway look in your eye, a little bit of discomfort, a little bit of confusion, but no tears. Time to check in. 

“How old are you, darling?” He asks you gently, tapping Johnny on the thigh to turn over so he can wipe him down. When you give your answer, and your voice doesn’t shake, he feels a little better.

“And what is today?” When you give the date, with the day of the week, he smiles, kissing you on the cheek.

“Good.” He cleans Johnny slowly, basking in the whimpers that slip free when he presses the warm cloth to the head of his cock, before tossing it in the corner of the room. He’s still rock hard, desperate with want for the two of you, just as desperate as you are to come, he imagines. He wrenches you into his lap to straddle him again, cradling your face to take you in one more time before starting again and you draw a shaky breath. He pulls you onto your knees, instructing you to hover over where he fists his cock, and then grips your hip and drives you down slowly, the heat and silk of your walls clutching him greedily, desperate for what he’s about to give you. Catharsis. Release.

“Good girl.” You moan and he calms you, reaching for Johnny’s hand, pulling him close until he’s pressed against your back, already hard again. Lucky boy, Simon muses, gets to come twice today. “You’ve been bloody perfect for me, darling. We’re so lucky.” He starts, setting everything in motion, putting the train on the tracks and loading it with coal. He returns to cradle your face, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks while he bottoms out in you, Johnny pressing the sweetest kisses to your shoulder. “You’re everything to us.” He says, and watches you start to crack, watches the pressure start to rise. “We couldn’t be happier with you.” Like lighting the fuse of a rocket. You blink, quickly, in rapid succession, like you’re trying to get a handle on yourself, and he swipes over your clit before asking you if you’re okay for the next. “Do you feel ready to take Johnny here?” His hand drifts down your back to twist the plug, and your eyes shutter.

“Yeah, please.” You answer breathlessly. 

“Slowly.” He tells Johnny, who lets out a breathy sigh. Simon strokes your clit while Johnny works you, pulling the plug free and lining himself up with your stretched rim, your cunt squeezing him with each pass over your swollen numb, your jaw slack with bliss, face tranquil and open like your body until he can feel Johnny’s cock inside you, and your eyes widen, breath choking off in a gasp.

“Jesus.” Johnny moans, hardly even moving, but feeling the press of Simon’s cock against his inside of you, only the tissue of your walls separating the two of them. Simon grits his teeth, holding you still by the grip he has on your hips, thrusting upwards into you very, very sluggishly. He thumbs your clit again, working in a circular motion, pressing at just the right angle, the touch sending sparks through your body, jolting your muscles into squeezing around both of them. Simon pulls Johnny’s hand forward, snaking it around your waist to press against your belly, pulling you back while also pushing down, the pressure making your lower lip quiver and eyes gloss over.

“That’s it.” Simon praises, still stroking your clit while jerking his cock up into your body. You jolt, and Simon holds you steady, pressing more firmly while murmuring sweetly to you. “So beautiful.” He kisses your neck. “So sweet for us.” He kisses your clavicle. “So breathtaking. You make us so happy, darling.” Johnny thrusts a little, just enough to get some friction, eyes slipping shut in a haze of pleasure and Simon can’t not marvel at the two of you, how perfectly you fit together, how sublime this entire moment is. Almost there. He works his hips up faster, not enough to jostle the three of you, but enough that delicious sparks of fire are moving through his body, and your cunt is twitching on his cock. You tense around him, muscles turning solid, and Johnny lets out a string of curses while Simon keeps his sights locked on you, his fingers pushing you closer and the closer to the orgasm you’ve been desperately chasing for hours. You stare back at him, eyes wide, brows creased as he thumbs your clit, and he watches with the deepest satisfaction as they grow wetter and wetter, tears gathering along your lids like you’re giving him a gift. “There you go.” He coos, and your body responds, heat pooling around his cock. “We love you so much. You’re doing so good for us, darling girl.” The tears spill down your cheeks now, and you sob, all while sinking your fingers into his shoulders, shuddering recklessly, not even caring that Johnny is buried inside of you, the sporadic movement sending him deeper and deeper.

“Please Si.” You cry, and paw helplessly at him. “Pl- please I need to come.” You gasp it, raw and frantic, and he continues to stroke your clit.

“Good girl. Thank you for telling me what you need.” He grinds his cock into you and you keen, right before he finally gives you permission to let go. “Come for us.” He says and it happens nearly automatically, your hips jutting back, and then forward, body locking down on both of them while you scream through your climax, and they both fuck you through it, Simon wildly chasing his own while Johnny spasms behind you, your walls milking them both with the waves of your orgasm. His own nearly blinds him, burning him with white hot pleasure, the feeling of filling you with his come at the same as Johnny igniting something possessive and out of control in his heart. He throbs inside you through his aftershocks, coming down from an impossible high, fingers groping blindly against you and Johnny to bring you both closer.

You sob in his arms, completely wrecked and shaking, like he knew you would be, finally broken, finally free.

“Shhh.” He murmurs, guiding your face into his neck where you wet his skin with hot tears. Johnny shifts, rubbing your back, kissing your shoulder blades before pulling out slowly, his come dripping from your rim, sliding down your skin to mix where Simon’s leaks from your cunt. “Shhh, we’re here, we’re right here.” He moves to pull out, so he can carry you into the bathroom, or lay you down, but you hold him tighter, breaths coming in sharp pants, and you cry harder into his skin. It’s not just the sex, or the orgasm denial, or any of it, but something more, something complicated that lives within you, that settles darkly against your soul sometimes. “It’s alright. Breathe, just breathe. You’re okay, you did so good.” Johnny presses light kisses to your temple, your cheek, all while rubbing your back with a firm, grounding touch.

“Washcloth.” He mouths to Simon, voice just above a whisper, and Simon agrees, reaching for his hand before he gets up, holding it tight in his grip and pulling him in for a kiss. If you notice Johnny’s absence after he slips away, you don’t say anything, steadily keeping your face buried in Simon’s neck until he gets back, breath stuttering in a choked hiss when you flinch away from the wet fabric against your skin.

“I need to clean you up, love.” Johnny gently dabs you with the cloth, moving you as needed to check for bruising or tearing, just as Simon does for him, before tossing it on the bed, and holding you by your upper arms.

“Bathroom.” Simon instructs, and Johnny nods, pulling you from his lap, displacing Simon’s cock and cuddling you into his arms, while Simon follows behind. You’re still crying, but you let Johnny place you on the toilet, mumbling for him to ‘get out’ while you pee, so they both stand on the other side of the door, even though it’s half open. They don’t leave you alone after something like this, as a rule, choosing to wait just a few steps away instead. While they do, Simon holds Johnny in his arms, rocking him back and forth from their standing position, caressing gentle fingers through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispers, the full effect of his own emotions cresting over him like a tidal wave, leaving him both wrecked and overflowing, while Johnny smiles. “I love you both.”

“I know. I love you too, Si.” They stay like that, until you come out, hands reaching for them, a little bit panicky like you thought maybe they disappeared, and Simon scoops you back into his arms, carrying you into bed while Johnny takes care of himself, and works on the aftercare list: pain cream, hot washcloth, water, snacks.

You burrow yourself in the blankets, tucking into Simon, face still teary while he speaks softly to you, telling you how good you were, how happy you make them, how proud he is of you, soothing your vibrant emotions until Johnny comes back, and they trade off so Simon can get cleaned up. Johnny will need aftercare too, time curled up in Simon’s arms, but they’ll do it after yours, sticking to the routine that has always worked for the three of them.

Simon’s grateful to see you slipping into a dream-like state upon his return, happy and floating, no longer crying with eyes soft and full of bliss, content in Johnny’s hold, half empty water bottle on the bed. He slides in between the blankets, his own body lax and sated, and reaches for Johnny and you, anxious to hold his whole world in his arms at this moment, unwilling to give it up or let it go for anything.

His Johnny. His darling. His.

[deandoesthingstome]

Gothic Fantasy

Pairing: Vampire!August x Reader

Summary: Are you in over your head, little girl?

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v (doggy style), anal toy/anal sex, dom!August, Sir and princess, monster fucking (which involves at least one bite, right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You took your time with a little extra research, but the ancient myth vibe of the story you created out of your experience with Sy was a hit and your werewolf!boyfriend tale had been picking up steam thanks to the upcoming holiday. Subscriptions were rolling in which left you both excited and anxious. 

sendmeanangel: i have enough to cover at least two more stays even if nothing more comes in at this point MNstrluvr: how could nothing more come in?  sendmeanangel: look, i’m having a great time, but at some point in my life i should probably stop paying for monster sex and get a boyfriend, right? darkgothnightengale: that time doesn’t have to be right now. Besides, how will you ever go back to some regular guy? sendmeanangel: very funny. This can’t be a sustainable way to go through life. I just worry people will start feeling like they are owed new monster fucking tales every week because they subscribed to read the ones already out there. I don’t want to let people down or make them think they got played somehow MNstrluvr: what if when you get to the point where you think you're through, you make that clear to any new subscribers? And just because you aren’t fucking a new monster at the hotel every week doesn’t mean you can’t keep writing amazing stories that your followers will love darkgothnightengale: you can write whatever you want when you want. There’s nothing on the site that promises content on any kind of consistent basis and people can always stop subscribing if they feel cheated, which is stupid because they are still getting quality content. you have a voice that people like to read. It doesn’t have to be about shapeshifters or vampires sendmeanangel: speaking of which MNstrluvr: YES!!! I’m so glad you decided to try him next. I cannot wait. He looks so fucking hot sendmeanangel: yeah, well walter continues to be completely booked. besides, they all look fucking hot lol MNstrluvr: there’s just something even more dangerous in his eyes. He looks totally unhinged. In a good way. darkgothnightengale: the best way sendmeanangel: you guys are crazy

“It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for signing the T&C online this time. I hope you had a chance to look through the extra restrictions on this room. It's very important that they are adhered to.”

Were you being called out? Did the hotel somehow know your two previous hosts had broken rules for you? Hopefully no one was getting into trouble.

“We simply don't want any mishaps,” as if in answer to the questions swirling in your mind. Though it still didn't tell you if they knew.

The desk clerk handed you another heavy iron key. Where the mechanism to open the forest room last month had been fairly plain and rustic, this one was filled with intricate lacy patterns. You wanted to snap a picture of the antique gothic skeleton key and send it to your online friends but decided it might be too much like bragging. After all, this would be the third fantasy visit they'd talked you into. Not that you needed much prodding anymore. That they couldn't partake in reality was making you feel bad, no matter how happy for you your friends said they were.

You made your way down the hall after exiting the elevator and stopped before the heavy wooden arched door full of intricately carved details that matched the key in your hand. The room was dark when you stepped in, but before you could reach for a light switch, a deep voice spoke from across the room, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're late."

"I only just checked in."

"And no apology, I see. It's five after. We were to start on the hour. I assumed that was clear, but maybe I'll need to remind you of the importance of punctuality during our time together."

A finger snap sounded from the place in the dark where you heard the voice and flames lit up a fireplace nearby. Your eyes were drawn there, hoping the glow of the flame would illuminate your host, but no one appeared. All you saw was the carved stone of the mantle and wrought iron candelabras filled with fat pillars that were lighting one by one as if by magic as well.

As the warm light began to bathe the room, you felt a rush of air behind you and heard the door to the room slam shut. You turned to see nothing again, though you heard the click of a lock.

"Did you at least come prepared?" the voice sounded near your ear, though again, no one was to be seen as you spun once more to face into the room.

"I did," you answered into the space in front of you, even as you peered left and right. Where the fuck was he?

“Right here,” he spoke from behind you again, and this time you could see as well as feel the hands that gripped your upper arms and held you tight against the solid form behind you. You glanced at the fingers curled around your biceps and licked your lips, thinking of where you’d rather have them. Caressing your face. Around your throat. Thrust deep inside…”Before we get there, I believe you owe me an apology.”

And now you had a choice. How would that apology go? Remain standing like an insolent brat or kneel to the man you wanted to dominate you this evening? Not that he wouldn’t dominate the brat as well, but maybe you didn’t need it to be so demanding this first time. His fingers loosened as you began to turn toward him but you sunk to your knees before you saw his face, so it wasn’t until you lifted your chin to plead forgiveness that you had the opportunity to drink him in.

He was dressed in sharp black pants with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. A neatly pressed black button up shirt with french cuffs and mother of pearl links sat behind a black silk brocade vest with mother of pearl buttons. In the light, you couldn’t tell for sure, but the pattern in the vest seemed to match the key as well. A blood-red silk tie paired with a handkerchief peeking from the front of his jet black jacket that set off his broad shoulders nicely and was buttoned at the right height to taper his waist.

But his face. You inhaled to keep yourself steady before you spoke the words requesting his forgiveness. The calming breath helped you take in more of his visage without fainting on the spot. 

His jawline was strong. And unlike the fuller beards of Walter or Sy, this man’s facial hair consisted of a five o’clock shadow and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark hair was swept back to the side, though you could tell if he hadn’t styled it perfectly, the curl would take over. You’d love to see it sometime. Maybe even tonight.

What caught your breath in your throat was his piercing blue eyes and it took you a few moments to realize he was laughing at you. You had to fight to gain control from his mesmerizing gaze, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he already was.

“I said," Apology accepted” and you can stand now, princess. Show me what you came with.” He helped you to stand, then drew his hand down your arm as he took a step back. He dropped your hand and motioned toward you before he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head as if to say “go ahead now.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if you’d made the right ensemble choice. Though it matched his outfit perfectly somehow, you were hesitant to bare so much to him so soon. But there was no turning back now. Well, of course there was, but you didn’t want to. At best, you could imagine excusing yourself to use the restroom and changing into a different outfit.

You undid the belt on your long, black trench coat, then popped the buttons one by one until you could open the flaps and shrug the coat off your shoulders and down your arms. You were about to let it drop to the floor, but something made you stop and hold the fabric in your hands at your sides.

“May I take your coat?” he asked like the gentleman he was portraying, holding out a hand and you reached it over to him, before smoothing your hands down the body of your black strapless gown, worrying away the non-existent wrinkles. A few blood-red rose embellishments nestled strategically into the delicate embroidery woven along the sheer black lace bodice of the dress, your bare skin visible only in the spots where no design was found. You released the clasps attaching the hem of the dress to the waist and allowed the full length of the black silk skirt to flow to the ground. It sported a trail of matching but larger floral adornments cascading in spiral from one hip across the front and down the other side. With the matching red silk pumps, you were a vision. You felt a rush of air and as you lifted your gaze from your dress back to him, your coat seemed to have disappeared, because it was no longer in his hands. And the look on his face told you you’d made the right choice.

“You look ravishing.” At his words of praise you forgot all about where your coat might have gotten off to.

“Is this okay?”

“If this is the attire you wished to begin in, then it’s perfect. We’ve already lost so much precious time with your late arrival.”

You stood silent, unsure if he was asking for another apology. It seemed like a bad idea to let him actually ask before you offered another, but your voice was stuck in your throat, so taken were you by his demeanor. It turned out you were wrong to wait.

“I don’t like to ask for apologies, but trust that I will whenever they are warranted. Hopefully, you’ll begin to know when you’ve crossed a line. I suppose technically, you have already apologized, so I won’t ask for another. This time.” At the admonishment, you dropped your gaze to the floor with embarrassment. “I also ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. So many lessons you’re learning already and you don’t even know my name yet. Allow me to correct that. My name is August Walker and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally.”

What did he mean by finally? Here, now, in this room when he finally shared his name and lifted your arm to kiss the back of your hand? Or had he heard stories about you too? 

“May I add something to your ensemble?” You could practically hear the subtle tilt of his head in question.

“Of course,” you replied, willing your nerves to allow you to look up at him again.

“It's only, well, you look so delicious. I'm afraid I'll need a reminder, or rather, a deterrent.” His hands raised, something appearing between his fingers as if from nowhere. You noticed a wide band of heavy black embroidered ribbon with metal clasps at each end. Your chin tilted almost involuntarily to allow him room to place the choker around your neck.

“You don’t want to…?” Was he not going to bite you? Did you make a mistake by not actually reading the T&C when you signed, scrolling quickly to the end of the form and checking the box as fast as you could to make sure the room wasn’t swiped from under you before you’d had a chance to complete the online booking.

“I never said that,” he replied, stepping in closer as he traced a finger around one side of your neck, down over your collarbone, and stopping just at the valley between your breasts.

“Is there a rule you’re afraid of breaking with me?” you asked, craning to bring your lips closer to his.

“I don't break the rules darling, I make them.” August returned his hand to your neck, stilling your advancement with the smallest effort.

“Well then, are you unable to actually bite me?” you asked, not sure whether you wanted him to consider this a question that crossed the line.

“Oh, I'm free to bite when and where you want. Many foolishly ask for the neck. In those moments, I usually oblige.”

“But…” you began.

“But there is a sweeter spot, more delicate, most delicious. This,” he let his finger run along the material around your throat, ”will help me make the better choice for both of us.”

You drew in a quick breath through your nose, causing a shudder in your shoulders as you realized you’d been holding your breath while he hinted at where he’d prefer to bite you. You’d chosen the dress specifically because it bared so much of your body near your neck that you’d hoped he couldn’t help but want to taste you. You foolishly never considered how much more bare you’d need to be before he was able to see the spot he wanted.

His dark chuckle unnerved you, but he quelled your apprehension with an invitation to join him at the dinner table. You’d completely forgotten that this experience had promised an evening meal, but honestly you assumed that was just some clever play on words. That you were to be the meal. He escorted you to a corner of the room near the fireplace, where a sumptuous feast had been set, and deposited you on one side of the table before taking a seat across from you.

“Would you care for some wine this evening?”

“Wine sounds lovely,” you answered, suddenly curious if he’d be drinking and eating with you. You watched as he lifted a decanted red and filled your glass, only to replace the crystal container onto the table before pouring a glass of his own from a dark brown glass bottle. He lifted his glass to toast your evening.

You watched carefully as he brought the goblet to his lips and drank, noticing that no obvious fangs appeared as he opened his mouth, though his canines did seem a little longer than you were used to. At least until recently that was. The men at this hotel all seemed to have been genetically gifted with glorious canine teeth and you weren’t complaining in the least.

“Now, what can I offer you to eat?” Cut fruit sat in open bowls alongside a tray of sliced meats and cheeses. He began to lift the covers off several porcelain serving dishes, revealing chicken and beef dishes, as well as vegetables and roasted potatoes. At your hesitancy, he smiled, as if extremely pleased, and continued. “Or would you prefer I choose for you?”

“I’d like it very much if you would recommend something. It all looks so wonderful.”

“Would you pass me your plate?” You obliged and he ladled servings of a few of the dishes. You noted with curiosity that he was choosing everything you would have chosen for yourself and none of the items you’d already determined you didn’t want to try, though you hadn’t said a word.

You thanked him as he handed your plate back and he invited you to begin, which you did. Because he’d asked you to. As you took your first bite, you moaned at the taste in your mouth and you thought you saw him lick his lips. What you didn’t see him do was serve himself.

“Is it to your liking then?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s delicious, thank you August…may I call you August?”

“For now. Now, what shall we talk about at this very civilized dinner we’re having together?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair, goblet in one hand, as the fingers of the other drew lazy circles on the tablecloth. 

“Can we talk about how it doesn’t appear you're actually going to be eating with me?” You knew it was a bold question, but you still wanted to needle him a little, see where the line was.

“You see, it’s the insolence I mind. Not the question. There is a way to go about asking what you want to know without making it seem like you are trying to anger me. Or are you? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, August,” you spoke as you placed your fork down. You had a sudden, unfortunate thought. What if you weren’t the only one who could call the whole thing off? What if your hosts had just as much right to pull out a safeword and end the liaison? You supposed, even though you were paying for the pleasure, they had to have a say in things as well. Otherwise, they were just…the thought made you shudder and not in a good way. “I am truly sorry. That was rude of me. Are you able to eat with me?”

“I am not. But I’m more than happy to enjoy your company and a more pleasant conversation while you dine. If you agree, of course.”

“Of course. Please, can we start over?”

“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” he commanded. “Continue your meal. And consider what you would like to talk about.” He took another drink and watched you with deeply penetrating eyes.

The meal was delicious and you finally figured out a topic of conversation that was neither too personal nor banal. When you made him laugh, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, as if his heavy and dark demeanor had made you nervous that this choice of hotel hosts was a mistake.

You had always been a bit enthralled with vampires. Loved reading Dracula both as published and in chronological order, as you’d heard about on Tumblr. Enjoyed the myriad of cinematic adaptations of the tale, especially the ones that played up the sensuality of the character. You really never imagined them to be real, but then again, you didn’t think werewolves or minotaurs were real either. For a brief moment, you thought back to your previous visits, letting your fork trail down with a slow descent.

“Finished?” he asked when your utensil hit the plate, eyebrow raised in question as he leaned forward preparing to scoot his chair back from the table. Before you’d even finished your nod, he was at your chair, easing it away from the table and offering you a hand to help you up.

“I think it’s quite time to get started on the rest of your lessons. Would you step to the window please?”

You turned and noticed the thick, black velvet curtains and assumed they must cover a window. You were commanded to open them, and you did, peering out into practical darkness only to see your reflection in place of any scenery. You glanced to the side of your image when you felt the fingertips at the top of your zipper, but though you knew they were attached to arms, attached to a body that was pressed right against you, adding more drag to his knuckles against your skin as he pulled the zipper down, you saw nothing in the mirrored window that would tell you another being was in the room with you.

You gasped, but he mistook it for shyness.

“I like to show off my conquests to whomever may be passing by below. We’re far enough up that no one could make out a face, but the body they’ll see,” he finished unzipping your dress and pushed it down your sides, letting it drop to a puddle of fabric at your feet. “The hint of red from these barely there panties, the silhouette of these curves.” You could feel but still not see his hands running up and down the sides of your body, his hands gripping your thighs before traveling up to cup your breasts. You watched as they bounced lightly in the reflection and smirked back at where you assumed his face would be before licking your matte red lips.

Your concentration was broken for a brief moment at the far off sound of a melancholy howl, but August didn’t let you linger on the thought. He spun you around to him and pressed you back toward the window, where you hissed when your ass came into contact with the chilly pane. How he missed the clink against the window, you’ll never know.

Then he caught your attention and you lost all concern for how exposed or cold your body might be at the moment. The change was practically imperceptible. One moment, he held your gaze with his dark and stormy eyes. In the next blink, his eyes burned red and held you rapt as he began to grin. Slowly, as his lips drew back, the fangs descended and you could swear you heard a faint click.

You probably let out a whimper when you saw him run his tongue along the sharp points and you definitely tilted your head on impulse, forgetting for a moment that he had already refused to take you there.

“I’d like you on your knees, please,” he asked, a little nicer than you imagined he had reason to be. Once you had obliged, he returned to commands. “Take me out.”

You did so gladly and without delay. Every assumption you made turned out to be right. He was just as well endowed as your other hosts, at least in human form. Which was nothing to sneeze at and you certainly weren’t kicking it out of bed.

You feasted on him as if you hadn’t just already eaten and you were happy to hear the sounds from him that told you he was enjoying it. And then he spoke to you.

“You like sucking on this cock, where everyone can see you, don’t you?” 

Truth be told, it had never occurred to you before. But there was an exhibitionism option on the registration form and you clicked it in a moment of audacity. He was simply giving you what you had asked for, right? It would feel this way for any guest he had in this room, right? That feeling of being out of control while technically being in the most control? You wanted him to take it.

“Yes,” you gasped as you pulled your head back for air before diving forward to take him down your throat again.

“I knew that you would. You like being naughty, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down as you looked up at him, praying he didn’t make you take him out of your mouth just so he could hear you answer verbally. Your prayers were not answered.

“I asked you a question. Would you care to answer? Now? You know how I feel about punctuality, I trust.”

“Yes. Yes August, I’m sorry. I do. I really do like being naughty with you.” 

Another howl sounded, closer this time and you thought you detected the slightest of eye rolls before August got stern again, reaching down to take hold of your upper arm and lifting you to your feet with ease.

“You’re going to call me Sir from here on out and you’re going to be naughty another way now. First, close the curtains.” He spun you around so you could grab hold of the panels and draw them towards one another. You thought you glimpsed a pair of eyes, a deep glowing amber flame in the night before you shut out the world for good for the moment.

August pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “I’ll open them again if you want, if you didn’t get enough of a taste of that. I’ll take that as far as you want to go. But you should know,... he’ll see.”

It both excited you and made you afraid. Afraid of the feelings you knew had been stirring for weeks now. And yet, you were here. In this room. With this man. As much as you thought about what might be, you also knew you wanted to experience what you could. So you’d never have to doubt or question, because you knew you’d be getting the best in the end. Could it really ever be that way? Could he ever feel the same?

“I’m good. Thank you. That’s really kind of you,” you blinked, bringing yourself back to this moment. To August. “Sir.”

“That might be the last time tonight I will be. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Sir” you answered, with no more doubt.

August took you in his arms and kissed you deep and hard, one time, before he turned you by your shoulders and gave you a firm slap on the ass. “Into the bedroom.” The ‘now” at your hesitation was punctuated with another sharp crack and you were wet, there was no doubt about it. 

The hotel suite was bathed in sheer red curtains, over the window, over the ornate gothic canopy bed, draped down the black walls. Tall black metal candelabras held glowing candles to light the room. Hooks and straps and rings attached to the walls in various spots held your attention for a brief moment. You hadn’t checked that box, and now you wondered why not. 

You could only see yourself trying a few new things at once.

These things tonight would be a vampire. And you’d already exposed yourself. Only one more to go, and the bondage wasn’t going to be it.

August turned you back towards him when you reached the foot of the bed, then proceeded to undress. You watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his jacket, the vest, his shirtsleeves, his shirt. You watched as it all came off, one piece at a time, designed to torture you, you were sure of it. He was fucking with you. Keeping you from seeing everything all at once.

You bit your lip, but all you wanted to say was ‘i’ve seen your dick already it’s been in my mouth please give it back.’

He finally did, ordering you to the bed on your hands and knees as he stepped his fully naked body toward you, halting at the foot of the bed to grab your head and stuff his cock right down your throat. Like he’d heard what you thought.

You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together for friction as you gyrated your hips and bobbed your head back and forth along his length. It would take barely nothing, just the slightest touch, if he would just, yeah, just…

“Oh, you did come prepared, didn’t you?”

You moaned again when you felt his fingers slide over your ass and pause to rub against the handle of the largest teardrop plug you owned. It came in a set of three, black silicone with a shiny red crystal in each handle. Up until this week, you'd only ever used the smallest while alone, but decided you needed to be ready and so had worked your way up to the largest just last night. 

“Yes, Sir,” you pulled off and answered quickly, eager to get back to sucking his large member.

“What are you prepared for?” He wiggled the handle a little when he asked.

“For you to fuck my ass, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he slapped a cheek again, then smoothed his hand over the sting and down in the dip to find your aching pussy and just like you knew it would, his touch lit you on fire. He had the wherewithal to slide your thong to the side and angle two fingers so you could press back into them on your withdrawal from his dick and pull away from them, though he’d chase, on your approach. You fucked back into his hand like you were possessed and you came once more because you definitely were.

This man owned you. For tonight anyway. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t say no. No way in hell.

He pulled away and turned you to face the other direction, ass waving in the space directly in front of him as you imagined and wished and hoped he’d just fuck you, please very much. He chuckled and you blinked, imagining you’d seen him now standing at the nightstand, now right behind you again. You felt him pull your underwear all the way off. And you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and you felt him slide two fingers back inside you, felt him rub the pads of his fingers along your inner walls and you felt him find the right spot, the one that released more lubrication which he gladly gathered on his finger and smeared all over his sheathed cock before he pressed himself into you.

He fucked you for a bit before he spoke again.

“I’m going to give you what you want me to give you, and then you’re going to give me what you want to give me.” With a slap on your ass, he pulled out, grabbed your hips and flipped you to your back. You watched him discard the condom before he climbed on to the bed and stepped his knees between your legs, nudging you further up the bed so that he could lay his body on the mattress, his head on your thigh, peering at your puffy pussy.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, dipping his head down to take a taste. His tongue trailed through your folds and as his lips closed you felt a hint of the scrape of his teeth against your delicate skin. He sucked at your clit for a moment before he drew back and looked up at you.

“You still want to feel this?” he asked, and you paused for one moment to consider, that yes, yes you absolutely still wanted to know what his bite would feel like. There was really no doubt in your mind. It’s what you came here for. And you knew you needed to answer him directly or it would all be over.

“Yes, Sir. Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to feel your bite.”

It was all he needed. In a flash he was at the crease in your thigh, just outside your cunt. You felt his mouth open, felt him drag his teeth back and forth before he finally settled on a spot to sink them. Your pussy pulsed around nothing but the brief rhythmic flow of your blood drawn into his mouth. 

You felt a rush of euphoria, a warmth like never before. A million stars lit up in your eyes and you could feel every molecule in your body and every one of them was in a state of bliss. You felt him take one more pull, a wave rushing across the shore of your imagination. When he stopped, it was almost as torturous as before he had begun. At least now you knew what that bliss could feel like.

It scared you a little. It felt like a drug you didn't want to mess around with. As good as it felt, you could imagine never wanting to let the feeling go. Begging for more. Offering up your body and soul to get one more taste, one more drifting orgasm.

Suddenly you were aware of the softest lick. The smallest peck of the lips. When you looked up at you, a stain of blood still remained on his lips and he saw you moan, saw you begin to writhe and strain up, even against the voice in your head that told you it was wrong, and it was all he could do to turn away. 

“Please August,” you begged, forgetting what role you were in.

“Princess, not for a million dollars. Not for ten million. There is literally nothing you could offer me that would make me break that rule.”

“What rule, August? What can’t you do for me?” you pleaded for an answer, pressing yourself up to your knees, unaware that the rush you were experiencing had nothing to do with the way you thought you felt about August in the moment, and everything to do with the essence he used to ease the pain of the skin break, numb the feeling of loss, and reseal the wound in the aftermath.

“I get the feeling you really didn’t read the T&C, darling. If you had you would know, in this room, this suite,” he emphasized, as if he’d had to make that clarification before, “I cannot feed you. Even if what you’ve scented is your own blood. It’s too dangerous for you to taste it. Full of my saliva. Mixed together, it’s too potent for you.”

You were distraught and he was … was he amused?

“But I’ve given you what you asked for. Are you still ready to give me what you want?” He waited a few moments, allowing you to come to grips with the reality of the situation. You had slipped over a line, though it didn’t sound like this was something he hadn’t experienced before. A naive young thing, determined to play out a school girl fantasy, relive the stories she made up about being ravished and taken by the Count, made to be his bride. 

With a small shake of your head, something cleared its way to the forefront of your mind. Of course he couldn’t feed you and of course you didn’t really want him to. It was a fantasy. That’s it. That’s all. You could only take this so far.

Once he saw you understood where the line was, August's chuckle was sinister. “You can still have something new. I’m more than happy to accommodate that request. As a matter of fact, I think that’s really the only reason you came here tonight, isn’t that right?”

Oh, he was good. That’s for sure. The way he was subtly shifting the priority of the night. Technically speaking, the only thing you’d really wanted was the bite. And he’d already given that to you. So if you were up for one more game…

“That’s right.”

He grabbed your chin and stared directly into your eyes. “That’s right, what?”

“That’s right, SIr.”

“Good girl. Lay back down. I’ll be right back.”

You wanted to kiss him goodbye as he let go of your face and appeared to float away from you. When he returned from the bathroom, his face was fresh and free of any temptation.

“Alright, princess. Hands and knees again, darling. Bring that ass right on over here,” he directed you back to the edge of the bed, ass once again in the air while you rested on your forearms. 

August took his time. Warmed you up with a few more light taps that grew to harsh stings that you couldn’t stop squirming for. And you squirmed again when he tugged and twisted and pulled on the handle, teasing the plug almost all the way out before pushing it back in and then repeating the exquisite torture. You couldn’t hold still until he’d finally pulled it all the way out and pressed two lubed fingers into your puckered hole, and it was only because you needed a moment. Needed to let the sensation settle. Needed to relax to let him in deeper. Let another finger in. It wasn’t long before you were fucking yourself back on his hand again. ‘Same but different’ was all your mind could cobble together.

“Please, Sir,” you managed to gasp out in a moment of clarity. If you never asked, would he have just kept you dangling like this all night? “Please fuck my ass.”

“There you go, princess. You’ve found your manners finally.” He pulled his fingers out and you heard the familiar tear of another wrapper. Felt more lube. And finally, finally had the tip of what you knew was his extremely large cock pressed against your entrance. 

It was easy to relax. He’d been prepping you for this for what felt like hours. It took nothing more than for you to release the deep breath you’d taken and he was past the now-less-tight ring and moving further inside you, slowly and with purpose. That purpose was to get you comfortable with the feeling, loosen you up further, and get you begging for more of him. Faster. Harder. Please, Sir. Please! More!

He obliged and it was not much longer before you felt the familiar coil tightening in a brand new way. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You were breaking protocol and screaming his name instead of Sir, but as he came himself, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

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[whorediaries-09]

hii i hope you’re doing well!! could i please request sex w harry that starts off rough because it’s exam season + added stress from voldy and it’s been awhile so he can’t get enough of the reader!! but then he kinda breaks and is less rough and much more loving & romantic w/ prompt #7 :)

hi love! i love this request so much! i hope my writing does justice to it 😵‍💫

keep your body open,

pairing- harry potter x reader warning(s)- 18+ content, drinking. a/n- my mans so underrated in his own series.

prompt - breeding + 'let me cum in you. please let me fuck my babies into you.'

ps - i know your request didn't have breeding kink in it, but without a kink, the whole point of kinkotober is missed. so i hope you don't mind xoxo

the slut club kinkotober rules kinkotober masterlist

'so hard to ignore ya, 'specially when I'm smoking, swim world is on my shoulders, keep your body open, swim'

his lips trail over your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. the alcohol staggering his heavy breathes. if someone told you that harry james potter would be straddling your hips, and kissing you so feverishly, as if he couldn't get enough of you, you would have laughed. but now that he was upon you, breathing you in, touching you in the ways you'd only fantasized about in your wildest dreams.

but now that he was upon you all of it seemed to be real. he captured your lips with yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, teeth biting your lower lip as your tongue tantalized a dance with his. his hands worked on the buttons of your blouse, and you fingers fiddled with the button of his trousers. he moaned into your mouth and left your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

'you don't know how long i've wanted you,' he breathed, sliding down your skirt down your hips. with a dazed look at your naked raw self, his tone grew sturdy,

'tell me what you want.' he demanded. with a gazed look of need and lust in your eyes, you fluttered your eyelashes and spoke, your voice breaking as he positioned his cock at your slit.

'i want you to fuck me,' you plead. he grunted,

'fucking pathetic.' he teases the tip of his erection at your clit and you let out heavy breathes, your chest heaving. he pushed his cock into you, a wanton moan leaving your lips. your walls gripped him tight, and he heaved a sigh, letting you adjust with the his girth. you closed your eyes as he slowly started moving his cock out and pushed himself back again. he takes your hands and places them on his chest, motioning you to get rid of his t-shirt. your nails dig into the fabric, tearing it off, and he starts to indulge in the warmth of your core with the most animalistic speed you had experienced.

'fuck;' you scream, as he curls his hand under your waist, pulling your body closer to his, breathing heavily into your neck as his pace brutally ravaged you from within. he tore apart the walls of your sanity and it was a like a mercurial high, when you felt him hit your spot. the nerves prodding at his cock brushed with your cunt so perfectly, you thought you'd pass out. he was a bit too brutal, occupied in his own headspace to show you his desire for you.

'harry...please sl-shit-slower,' you whispered. his breathing hitched with the way you said his name, and he slowed down his pace, enjoying the way you pussy engulfed him, letting you enjoy the blissful mannerism of his touch.

you felt the bubbling coil of the orgasm erupting in your stomach. your nails dug into the his toned back, as you felt the slow, lazy drag of his cock in you. it set fireworks in your heart, collywobbles consuming you and a light of fiery fire of lust that had to be broken down.

you bit his shoulder, your fingers crawling down to your clit to rub it, but he slapped your hand away. he grunted, his heavy breathe sending shuddering tickles down your spine.

'who's cunt is this?' you merely groaned at the question, desperate for your release.

'i said who's cunt is this.' he demanded, his pace faster now, your guts bottling up the orgasm which peaked,

'yours, yours, please let me cum,' you screamed, as his finger rubbed your clit in circles. your walls clenched around his girth, as you felt your orgasm escape, the tension leaving your stomach, and you let out a wanton shout of relief. his hand loosened around your back as he rammed into you, chasing his own release. half begging, half dazed by your exhausted beauty, he groaned,

'let me cum in you. please let me fuck my babies into you.'

your cheeks blazed hot as you replied,

'go ahead harry, give me your babies,' he growled, as you clenched around him, feeling his white hot seed spilling inside you

'keep your body open,'

[joannasteez]

untitled work (one)

pairing: roman reigns x black reader warning: smut. minors do not interact pls. word count: 1100ish

he'd been feral. the endless slip of his tongue through your lips, licking greedily into groans as the circling of his thumb against your jaw urged a rushing of your own wants. and your nails were roughed in his hair, tangled, and the heels of your feet locked to keep him there. and if the edges of control would suffer to blur anymore, there'd be a trembling in him. a shake in his bones that spoke to the desperation driving the heat in his blood. 

and here, after the pass of so much time buried beneath him, you could just barely breathe. your soft moans having broken and breaking still, into the early morning to spill over his skin. and then comes the next assailment, after quick cuts of air filling the lungs, his teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. the pricking of it working dangerously in tandem with the rutting set in his hips. 

and where he touches you now, these tender thumbing caresses, turning bold and undone once again. pressing in till he's guiding the line of your jaw. his lips pulling, slipping over harshly. till he's there, holding at your neck. feeling the rhythm of your pulse. beating hard and lively. a gentle squeeze that coaxes a tightening at your core about nothing. aching to feel something, if not his fingers or his mouth again then something else. anything. and he's squeezing again, firmer than his former testing, to revel in the steady build up of another undoing. 

because of course, you'd already seen pleasure before the morning, before the beaming in of the softened sun, and by seen meaning the brown burn of his eyes and then the bursting colorless bliss behind your own. the damp slope of your back having been pulled off the bed with a deep arch, a leg thrown over his shoulder as he dug his face between the heat of your thighs. dipping and slipping his tongue through till it prodded its way to lick at the flutter of your walls. and then his lips pursed, deep kisses led with tongue, "how long you been like this", he'd asked. his voice beautifully bruised by the morning. coarse and deep. heavy palms pushing into the meat of your thighs, gripping over your light trembling to pry you open. 

"since last night". 

and he'd watched in his full view. the way your pussy clenched about nothing. feening for his touch. messy and blooming still as your clit had continued then to swell. his mouth pooling wet, till he'd let the sticky spit drip for a faithful addition. 

he'd kissed your inner thighs. trailing north. lips meeting your hot supple skin till he'd found himself hovering teasingly over your clit. your fingers curled into pillows, waiting. "wet and needy for hours. just sittin' with all this tension huh?" kitten licks to the nervy pearl of your clit and you'd melted fast into the sheets. a moaning mess and just near a deep trembling. and the heat of his breath had coaxed another heavy bout of throbbing, about the aching in your core and just at the base of your spine. and so the heel of your foot had pushed into the ripple of muscle at his back to do something other than tease. but all he did then was chuckle and rush his nose in. the heady note of your arousal forcing the simmer of his blood to blister wild. filling his nose till it'd settled in to where he could mindlessly rut into the sheets. the soft fabric a horrible excuse for friction against his cock. 

and when the teasing had been more than he could tolerate, he'd stuffed his tongue deep. savoring the taste of arousal and licking hungrily against the winding in your hips. the air then thick and warm. dampening already dampened skin. the slurp of his mouth lewd as you roughed his head impossibly closer. 

he'd moaned. groaned viciously. a break up from his chest bristling the air. the thickness of his beard caught against your skin. 

but that had been sometime ago, before sunny morning light and breezy rolling curtains. now he'd found your mouth again, licking in as heavily as he did between your legs. his palm against your neck, squeezing to control the smooth take against your lips. sloppier this time. this messy wet coupling filled with the taste of what he'd so greedily lapped up before. 

thankfully you had no where to be. no obligations or prior engagements. nobody would have to ask about the coarse shape of your voice. or the dizziness in your eyes. about such modest clothing in spring weather. or about why your disassociations were so often. you'd have to explain that you were thinking about him. of roman. thinking about the silky fall of his hair cascading against the tough muscles of his shoulder. about the thin layer of sweat shining from the morning glow. that slip of his tongue he always takes along his teeth. the flex of his belly and the determination in his eye. you'd have to tell them—maybe— about the working of his hands. bruising and calculating  in their approach. 

they'd surely respond with envy right? a longing that could not be relieved. 

when the explanation comes, of how easily his lust slipped into his love. possession this tumultuous flooding. your body slipping into that delicate position of submission. pillows stuffed under your hips for comfort. face sinking into the tenderness of the sheets. there would be a lot to explain, so much so that it'd be worth more not to share. to kiss and not tell. you'll keep it all for your memory. for those little bouts of disassociation, where you think of him. of the brutal take his fingers give your thighs. kneading in that perfect little arch. the one all for his viewing pleasure.  your pussy a mess still from his mouth, clenching in anticipation as he hears you whine impatiently. humming as he feels his chest swell. that deep welling of pride. 'mine', he thinks to himself. his knee bent and his dick feeding in cautious.

measured and fair. enjoying the shake in your limbs and the gripping your fingers take to the sheets. giving in to him. 

and the easy work of his hips only reveal just how absolutely ready you are for him. a wet sticky stroking in that knocks the wind from his chest. your body tight and yearning. his fingers grabbing at the wood build of the headboard to stabilize the brute forcing of his hips. 

your speechlessness all the confirmation he needs. your mouth hanging open, eyes screwing shut as each attempt to speak fails worser than the last. 

but his every word that cuts against the thick air leaves your heart to pound and your pulse to beat harsher. the dribble of arousal slicking to coat him lush but unmatched against his words. against the play of his pride off his tongue. these lewd musings as his cock went on throbbing and stroking against the warm vice of you. 

"you like getting fucked ragged huh?"

"you like me stretching your pussy"

"you love being a little hole just for me". 

and your nerves go on crazy. delirium taking hold as your body works its way in to the beginnings of release. "o' my God", like a plea off your tongue. 

and his chuckling is menacing. his hand forcing your back into the mountain of pillows beneath your hips. slipping in deeper with the steadiness he's maintained. perfect and fierce. 

"he ain't here babygirl. he don't need to know how messy i got you right now. it's just me. just me". 

tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade @venusesworld @gomussy @alyyaanna