#catching up for a moment before crawling back into my study hole

[poursomesunaonme]

hi im alive

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

[x-masc-reader-galore]

I’ve never really requested anything before and I don’t want to be doing this wrong but I would love if you wrote an Alastor x Fallen Angel reader? Reader being male or non binary is fine! Anyways the reader fell (or jumped) out of heaven and lands in a forest where Alastor gets his deer carcasses. He sees the reader and instantly becomes intrigued but doesn’t exactly walk up to them. He studies them for a while then finally decides to go up to them? The rest is practically up to you, both of them could instantly get along or take awhile to get along.

You don’t have to do this I just had an idea and wanted to share it and see it get written!

Ohhh this is a fun ask! I don’t want to rush things with Alastor, for I feel if he were to fall in love with someone, it would be a slow burn! This will just be the tip of the iceberg, but if a lot of you guys want more, I make a short series (probably 3-4 chapters) on ao3

Might be a bit ooc cause I can’t write alastor but I tried my earnest

——————————

You were falling. That was the first thing you noticed once you came back to your senses. Your wings were cut off and you were covered in Golden Light! How fun. (Not fun.)

He maneuvered your body and soon noticed Hell coming extremely close.

“WAIT WAIT WAI-“ You screamed as you soon fell into a tree, then a bush, and then you rolled out onto the ground. It was a miracle that you hadn’t died right then and there.

Now, you thought you were alone in these woods, but, that was a stupid thought. You had a feeling that you were being stared at. And you were right!

The Radio Demon, or better known as Alastor was in the distance, about to kill off some poor dear for his dinner before he noticed you. Alastor then saw you falling from the sky, which amused him.

He watched you from afar and saw you stand. He examined you closely but stayed away. He wanted to figure out what he was dealing with first. He noticed the glowing light on your body, especially how it was seeping from your back where your wings were ripped off.

“How… interesting.” He spoke lowly, getting a little closer to you.

You heaved and cracked your back, which was, a terrible mistake to say the least. “HOLY FUCK.” You screamed out in pain as your back ached in pain. You kinda just wanted to curl up in a fetal position and crumble away to ash. What left was there now? You were in hell. Kinda the end of road, isn’t it?

Alastor couldn’t help but enjoy that scream of pain. He examined you for a few more minutes before walking up behind you and poking you in your back. Where your wings were ripped off. Where it hurt.

Yep. You definitely wanted to crawl into a hole and DIE.

“OW WHAT THE FUCK?!” You screamed and looked behind you, seeing Alastor tower of you and grin. “I swear to god.” Is all you said before you rubbed your eyes and looked away, “Gimmie a moment, I need to process this.”

“Oh no, I don’t think we have time for that.” Alastor hummed out, spinning you right back around, “Aren’t you interesting, looks like we have ourselves a fallen angel.” He twisted his cane and pointed it to you.

“I’ll shove that cane up your ass.” You threatened as you went to go grab at it which resulted in you getting fwacked in the head with it, “OW.”

You just couldn’t catch a break now, could you?

“Would you, my friend like to join the Hazbin Hotel? You look like you miss heaven.” Alastor spoke, watching you eye him suspiciously.

“How do you know that?” You asked a bit worried. “Oh, know everything..”

You sighed, “What is this.. Hazbin Hotel?” You asked, walking up closer to Alastor and examining him. “Oh, nothing but a sad, sad hotel for sinners alike to try and redeem themselves into heaven!”

You were skeptical, but you needed a place to go. “Fine. Lead the way, smiles.” You grumbled, and you two were soon off!

Alastor was definitely intrigued by you. Maybe he could try and get you to give him your soul, so you’d be one of his pets. The idea of that made him feel great.

Only time will tell.

[hotreadingwitch]

Regulus x Reader - Show Me

Content Warnings/Kinks: hickeys, hair pulling, choking, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex, unprotected sex 

Show Me 

SLAM

Y/n's back hit the wooden surface of the door. Regulus's lips were on her jaw in a flash. She moaned in pleasure at the feeling causing his cock to harden in his pants. The only thing he wanted was for her to make more sounds like that. She ran her hands down his shirt, fumbling with the buttons as she attempted to get it off. Regulus took over, unbuttoning the white fabric and throwing it somewhere behind him on the floor of the empty Slytherin Boys Dormitory. 

Y/n took over as they walked slowly toward the bed, one kiss with every step. Her lips were soft on the smooth skin of his pale neck. 

"Reg" she whispered between kisses, "Do you want me t-" 

"No" he interrupted, "You first" 

He then pulled her shirt over her head and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall swiftly off of her body. Y/n moved, left only in her undergarments, onto Regulus's bed, allowing him to crawl on top of her. He placed a gentle kiss between her breasts before making his way down toward her desperate pussy. 

"Show me" he ordered, his voice suddenly commanding. 

"Show you?" She questioned, confusion marking her face. 

He planted another kiss, this time on the inside of her right thigh, before sucking on the sensitive skin, leaving a purple mark making her whimper. 

"Show me how you like it Y/n" he explained then adding, his voice a low grumble, "I want to see you play with yourself" 

Y/n blushed, biting her bottom lip. But she complied, snaking her hand down her body and slipping her black lace panties to the side, giving Regulus the view of her pussy that he craved. She then, after spitting on two fingers, began to run circles around her sensitive clit. 

"That's it" he praised, watching her intently. His cock was rock hard in his pants. 

He lay on his front, head cocked slightly as he watched her continue to spit on her fingers and then attack her clit, circling the sensitive area over and over again. She repeated these movements, spit-swirling fingers-spit-swirling fingers, his hungry eyes watching her. They did this for what felt like hours, her using the flat of her slicked fingers to please the sensitive nerves surrounding her clit while he studied her. 

"My turn" he smiled, before coming forward, "May I?" 

Y/n nodded her head, letting out a breathy "yes" as she wound her hands in his dark chestnut curls. 

He started, first spitting directly onto her pussy and then swirling his tongue around the area,  replicating exact same pattern that she had been doing with her fingers just a few moments earlier. She threw her head back in pleasure at the unique feeling of his tongue on her clit. He paused, catching her eye before asking:

"Like that?" 

She bit her lip and nodded again. 

"Yes," she breathed. 

As he continued her knees buckled, tilting inward causing her thighs to secure his face in place. He licked and licked and licked until she began to approach her orgasm, her hips bucking back and forth to meet his tongue's strong movements. 

The feeling surged through her, overwhelming her body in pleasureful waves. She gripped her hands harder, pulling his hair while riding his face. He moved his head in time with her rolling hips, matching each motion perfectly as she ground down onto him. 

"Ahh" she moaned, throwing her head back. 

Once she'd come down from her orgasm the pair moved back on the bed, Regulus sitting up with his back resting on the headboard and her on his lap, straddling him. 

"Are you ready?" He whispered, adjusting himself beneath her. 

"Yes," she whispered. 

She then took his red, hard cock in one hand and placed it just below her hole. As the tip slid against her wetness and then into her they both grunted. Finally, Y/n sat down, fully taking his cock inside of her. 

"Fuck" he groaned at the feeling. 

Y/n was at a loss for words. She tightened up around him as she began to bounce up and down on his cock. The feeling of him curved within her, hitting that perfect spot, was indescribable. 

"Mm," she murmured.

As she rode him he slicked his thumb and began to rub it in tight circles around her clit. The feeling made her back hunch forward slightly. She placed one hand on the headboard and the other on his tight stomach, feeling his hard abs beneath her spread fingers.

"That's it pretty girl" he praised before leaning forward and beginning to kiss her neck. 

Her sensitive skin prickled with pleasure as he sucked causing her to tilt her head back and moan. The combined feeling of her bouncing on his cock, him sucking her neck and rubbing her clit, was perfect. 

"Reg" she whimpered. 

Soon, the feeling of her orgasm began to rise up within her making her movements sloppy and her head lull forward. Regulus used his other hand to caress her cheek, holding her head up, as she started to cum. 

"Good girl" he praised. 

That sent her over the edge. 

"Oh fuck" she sighed as the feeling washed over her. 

She tightened around him, grinding down onto his cock, pleasing both of them as she orgasmed. She shut her eyes, groaning as the feeling completely overwhelmed her causing her hips to buck back and forth. 

"Fuck fuck fuck" she said, trying to catch her breath as the waves subsided. 

Regulus tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. 

"Can you keep going for me love?" He asked, searching her eyes. 

She nodded and began to bounce again, slowly this time, tightening around him, milking his cock with each movement. His hands wandered to her bum, gripping it and massaging it with his nimble but strong fingers. 

"Shit" he hissed as his orgasm came forward. 

Y/n leant forward, just as he had earlier, and began sucking on his neck as she rode him. She took his hand in hers before bringing it up her body and placing it around her neck. His eyes blazed as he squeezed, choking her. She rested her hand then on his firm chest, stabilizing herself. 

"I'm close" he grunted, eyes mesmerized by her naked figure bouncing up and down on his cock. 

She trailed her lips up from his neck to his jaw to his earlobe and whispered: 

"Cum for me"

With a groan, he burst, white ropes of cum coating the inside of her pussy. The liquid dribbled down her leg but she didn't care. She kept bouncing until he was done. Seamlessly they went from fucking to just kissing. She shifted, letting his cock fall out of her before lying back onto the messy bedsheets, Regulus kissing her as she did. 

Then they lay still, entangled in each other's arms, catching their breath. Y/n turned, tilting her head upward so that she could see Regulus. And sure enough he, like her, was smiling, completely content.

[bltzgore]

Alright, alright, so I have a thing about ribs. Usually, I love breaking them, but join me on a journey as my brain reminds me I once read: "pry out ribs with a crowbar" (or something of the like).

Tw: GORE and i cannot stress that enough, stabbing, blood, broken bone, invasive intimate touch on the torso (nonsexual), breathing trouble.

What we have to start with here is a motive. Why are we prying this rib out? Are we sending a message? Are we trying to leave whumpee with the most painful death we can manage on hand? Are we taking a trophy back to the big boss and leaving whumpee to die? -Oooooh yes, that one.-

Next is the technical process, cause removing a rib can be done safely, but we're not doing that. This is just a mess of gore (but that's on brand for me) you could cut back the skin first to get a better look at it, pick which one you want. Or you could just go for it and see what happens. -Let's wing it!-

Always remember to pick a healthy amount of complications, collapsed lung is one of my personal recommendations.

I think a wretched, trashed, back alley is the best backdrop for such a situation, time to paint the picture:

It was the height of summer. Everything was slick with sweat or damp through with the humidity. It made the fight that much harder and allowed whumper to put whumpee on their back that much quicker. The thing keeping them there was the stab wound. Whumper had driven their knife right into the flesh of whumpee's leg. Then they had pulled up.

Whumpee had also taken a serious hit to the head, so they were having a hard time telling up from down. So they laid there, watching the figure over them move and discuss just how much they were going to make off this hit. None of it was really processing, with the concussion and blood loss.

Whumper stopped talking and something seemed to have changed. They were looking at whumpee again. No. Not just at whumpee. A specific part of whumpee. Whumper was studying whumpee's torso.

Whumper knelt down and drew up whumpee's shirt. Whumpee made a move to fight back but whumper pinned them too quick and with too much strength, even with just one arm.

Whumper traced their fingers across whumpee's ribs, bringing goosebumps to whumpee's skin. Whumper stopped on one, tapped it, then pressed hard into the gap just below it.

Whumpee winced and breathed out, with no choice other than taking it in stride.

"I like this one." Whumper decided. Their words slowly slithering into whumpee's poor fogged brain.

Whumper moved off, withdrawing a few steps and bending down to grab something.

Had whumpee been more aware they would have tried to run, to move, to crawl away. Too little, too late. Whumper returned and stepped on their chest, roughly forcing the air out of it. Whumpee was rattled but the fear didn't double down until they managed to focus their eyes on the thing whumper was holding.

A crowbar?

That was the last coherent thought whumpee managed before something split their brain in two. The teeth of the crowbar broke the skin, and whumpee screamed. There was no break from the pain, no moment to catch their breath as the red invaded their vision, forced their exhausted body to thrash, and their vocabulary shrink to the most deperate words they knew.

Whumper doubled down. They jammed their tool to the side until they felt it hit the bone. They grinned as they wrentched a hole into a living breathing creature, "There it is." And jammed down on the bar, adding more and more force until the bone crunched.

Whumper didn't get the whole rib, but they were certain it would be enough, as they tore through the skin to get at it. They took their prize and stood, giving whumpee one last look.

Whumpee's torso was a mess of blood that almost distracted from the hole that looked like torn cardboard, gaping and gaging blood all down whumpee's sides.

Whumpee was not as still as they should have been, gasping like a dying fish. But whumper solved that mystery rather quickly.

"I must have hit your lung. Ruptured chest wall and all that makes it pretty hard to breathe, doesn't it?" They grinned, then examined their gleaming, bloody prize. "Thanks for your cooperation. Die well." Then turned on their heels and vanished into the gathering storm.

Whumpee's body was in ruins, all that was left was for their exhaustion to put them out. It was all they had left to hope for.

The alternative, die of blood loss.

And maybe caretaker will show up if you really want them too...

Bye!

[naviculariis]

The mask had been a gift.

He’d been nineteen years old, wearing a bandanna across the lower half of his face when Kidd had walked over with a sense of purpose. One year since the death of Victoria, one year since the formation of the Kidd Pirates. He’d known Kidd for years before this, though; had considered him his closest friend, despite their own past gangs having clashed on occasion. But that was in the past, really; not something that was worth being brought up. Not when Kidd had done so much for all of them.

For him.

“Here.” Kidd plopped a hunk of metal in his lap, drawing his attention down to stare at it for a moment.

From his point of view, it looked like a bowl. “Is it a bowl for my noodles?” He asked, listening to the way Kidd groaned in frustration as he reached over to flip it around. “Oh!” His eyes widened beneath heavy blonde bangs, taking in the sight of the mask. A mask. “For me?”

“Who the fuck else would it be for?” Kidd huffed, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, cheeks flushing a shade of red that nearly rivaled the vibrancy of his hair. “So you don’t have to wear that stupid bandana anymore.”

Killer reached up, moving his hair out of the way to grasp the ends of the bandanna, tugging the knot free. The blue and white fabric fell; the tone was close to the colors of the metal Kidd had used to create the mask. And he’d drilled holes into it? Holes- holes that would allow him to eat his pasta through. Or any noodles, at that! Anything stick shaped-

With shaking hands, he brought the helmet up and settled it over his head. It was a perfect fit; cushioned inside to aid with protecting his head from any damage sustained in a fight. “Boss,” he murmured, feeling a swell of what could only be described as fondness take over. He reached out, tugging Kidd into a tight embrace that he immediately tried to squirm out of like an angered feline.

“Lemme go, you big oaf!” Kidd huffed, before relenting, arms winding around Killer’s middle. “Looks better than a stupid bandanna,” he muttered, even though he felt near bursting with pride.

That had been almost eight years ago. And still, the helmet remained. Killer’s lips pulled into a grin as he polished the metal with careful touches, making sure it gleamed when he held it to the light. Sure, it’d sustained damage over the years, but Kidd always fixed it, or Heat would help heat up the metal enough that it could be readjusted, or Wire would work some magic with his talent for fixing things.

They’d be nearing Dressrosa soon; the New World had already posed more than a few challenges for them. Nothing that they couldn’t handle surely. Fingers tapped along the surface of the mask as Killer looked up from it, catching sight of his reflection.

Wire had cut his hair a week ago; it was getting too long, hanging past his knees, and there was simply too much to even wear the helmet with. So, Wire had sat him down one evening when the ocean had been calm and started cutting away. Inch after inch of golden tresses had fallen to the deck of the Victoria until the longest layers no longer fell to his knees, but rather, to mid-back. He even thinned it out a touch, reshaped the layers and his bangs to fall better, settling in a manner that would no longer impede upon his vision within the helmet.

He watched as his lips pulled into a smile before grimacing at the sight; sangria lipstick only highlighted the movement, but he’d be damned if he stopped wearing it. A habit picked up from Kidd, years ago. He couldn’t stand to look at himself. It made his skin crawl to see the features that were reminiscent of people he’d loathe to call family. Turning quickly on his heel, he pulled the helmet down over his head. The sound of his own heartbeat echoed within his ears as his pulse kicked up; his breathing made for a backing track. His own wretched symphony.

“Kill?” Eustass called, poking his head into Killer’s quarters. His head tilted as he studied his partner curiously. “You comin’ up on deck?”

“In a minute.” Killer replied tensley, voice straining.

Ah. Kidd sighed as he crossed the small room with large strides, the distance closing quickly. He reached beyond Killer, tugging the nearly sheer blanket down over the grungy old mirror they’d found on another ship nearly four years ago. “C’mon, you’re gonna wanna see it when we get to Dressrosa, yeah?”

Killer swallowed roughly before bobbing his head in a ‘yes’.

“I’ve got you,” murmuring, Kidd’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, nudging him into movement. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” The rough lilt of his words was familiar; a comfort to him. A sigh spilled free as they left the room. The deck was busy above them. Kidd didn’t force him up just yet- pausing at the steps that would lead them up onto the deck of the Victoria Punk. “We’re in this together.”

“We are.” It wasn’t something that was necessary to say out loud; Killer would be by Kidd’s side until their end. Hell, he’d gladly sacrifice his life, his everything, if it meant keeping Kidd alive, keeping him safe. His closest friend, his confidant, his Captain. Swallowing down the feelings that threatened to spill from his lips, he moved past Kidd, stepping up and into the cool air that greeted him. The sea breeze was nice, better than the stuffiness from below deck.

To his left, Heat stood, engrossed in conversation with Bubblegum. To his right, Wire sat on the deck, attempting to tame Dive’s hair for the day. Kidd stepped beside him, his hand clapping over his shoulder, jolting him. Awake, aware. “How long until we drop anchor?” Killer asked, following Kidd by half a step as they moved across the deck. He could just barely see a spot on the horizon. Dressrosa.

“Couple’a hours, yet,” Kidd decided after a moment of contemplation, glancing over his shoulder up to the helmet that covered Killer’s face. “Sound right to you?”

Killer nodded; he could no longer hear his heartbeat within his ears, nor could he focus on the sound of his breathing. He wasn’t back on that island in the South Blue. He wasn’t kneeling with blood on his hands, tears in his eyes. He wasn’t watching Kidd make a decision that would change their lives.

He was here, on the deck of the Victoria Punk

[achtung-attitude]

Shizuka makes her way out of the living room to search the mansion. As she moves forward, ACHTUNG BABY appears and waves its hand over the phone flashlight, brightening it up substantially. “Good! Now, let’s see-” Before she can finish her sentence, she splutters and coughs, her throat suddenly harsh. “Agh… Nasty cough…” The young girl traverses the house further, entering All-Kill’s study. She tugs on her dress shirt, trying to cool her body down. Panting, sweat pouring down her forehead. “Ha… Ha… Why? Why’s it so hot all of a sudden?”

Nonchalantly, she walks into the study. Moonlight shines inside. As it glows on her skin, she instantly reacts to the tremendous heat searing across her skin. “AAAAHHHH!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!” she shrieks, feeling as though her forearm just touched a hot stove. She launches herself back, away from the light. “What the?! What the hell is happening?!!”

***

Elsewhere, a small window on the upper floor. Out crawls All-Kill, inhaling a fresh gulp of air. “HAAAA…! Ha… Ha…”

He groans as he pulls himself out from the window, grabbing the roof gutters. After a minute of working his body out of the window, he climbs on the roof. Lying on his back, he breathes steadily. Then notices a large burnt hole in the roof at the back of the house. “Ugh… Should have crawled up here through those…”

The clouds above move with the atmospheric wind, parting to allow the diminutive full moon to shine over Mulholland Drive. It shines through the latched windows of All-Kill's house, as the curtains are drawn open. “Now… Let’s see you escape this, Shizuka Joestar…”

***

Like a human hurricane, Shizuka shreds through the house, kicking down doors, her fury only mounting as she fails to find All-Kill anywhere. “Where are you?!” she yells.

Each breath becomes more difficult. Her eyes turn bloodshot, and her movements frantic and erratic as she charges up the stairs.

She bursts into All-Kill’s bedroom, and starts tearing the room apart. Throwing the wardrobe open and pulling everything out of it, ripping through the mattress and pushing all of the dressers down. “Damn it, where the hell are you?! Where are you hiding?!” 

She throws her arm out, and accidentally catches it in a stream of moonlight. She shouts in pain, then storms out of the room with a snarl.

***

Bemused, All-Kill sits cross legged, listening to the carnage below him. “Don’t find my coin collection…” he whispers. Right then, there’s a metallic rattling sound, like a large quantity of antique coins hitting the floor.

All-Kill sighs. “Damn. What is this? I could tell she was holding back serious anger, but this is too much. She’s acting completely irrationally.”

After contemplating it for a second, he speaks again. “Maybe it’s oxygen. When exposed to purified oxygen, human brains are flooded with more energy than they’re made for. It makes people irritable. When I used BLACKS KEYS on the atmosphere, it must’ve purified the oxygen inside. I didn’t even know that was part of it. My God, I hate using that move.”

He lies back, taking a moment to catch his breath. Up here, on Mulholland, it’s actually possible to see the moon and stars, away from the city lights and smog below. “Life on Earth,” he murmurs, “it all depends on the Sun. But all life would be destroyed by solar radiation without the ozone layer to protect us. What I deactivated inside was that protection. Inside my house alone, there is nothing to defend against that solar radiation.”

“The only reason she’s not being torched alive right now is because it’s night time. Moonlight is just sunlight reflected off the Moon. It may only be 1/100th of the sun’s power, but it’s enough to turn my house into a nuclear oven. As I said, Shizuka, Joestar, despite all my reasons to hate you, not even you deserve this.”

***

On the point of collapsing, Shizuka stumbles towards the stairs, slipping on the top step and sliding halfway down. She lies there, hyperventilating, and squinting through bleary eyes. Between choked gasps, she stammers, “br-breathebreathehavetobreathe... breathe, breathe... Breathe…”

She does so, inhaling through her nose deeply, then releasing through pursed lips. A dull golden aura surrounds her body. With this, her expression gradually calms. When she opens her eyes, they’re still red-rimmed and bloodshot, but now clear-headed.

“What did he do…?” she thinks, sliding down the steps. “All-Kill… he released poison? Made moonlight dangerous… If I use ACHTUNG BABY to block the light, there’s still the poison to deal with…” She reaches the bottom of the stairs and stands slowly, feeling light headed. “And where is he, anyway? I have to find him, before he pulls some other trick out of his ass… His ability… The air… The house…”

Her thoughts are interrupted by a violent coughing fit that rises from deep within her. She tries to keep her breath even, but the air she inhales feels like glass scraping her throat. “Gaaahh… Water… In the kitchen… Need some water…!”

Lurching toward the kitchen, Shizuka plants her foot firmly… and immediately slips on one of the antique coins she tossed around. In its scattering, it found its way downstairs, as if waiting to deliver karma unto her. Falling forward, she plummets to the ground, where moonlight from the living room window shines into the hallway.

Shizuka gasps, “Aaah-!”

***

“AAAAAGHH!”

Hearing Shizuka’s blood curdling scream, All-Kill smirks. Then abruptly notices a massive cloud of mist that surrounds him, emanating from his backyard. His pool. “Yeon-in?” he mutters. Walking to the roof’s edge, he peers down, but can see nothing within the thick mist. 

The man in black inhales, about to call his pet, but pauses. Instead, he turns to peer through the giant hole in the roof. “You’re a crafty one, Shizuka Joestar. You’re exactly the type to fake your own death to draw me in and attack. I should be able to see where you fell from here. Now where are you…?”

Kneeling on one knee, he squints. Through the hole, he can see the landing, the stairs, and a sliver of the first floor hallway. And in that sliver, Shizuka can be seen, lying face down in the darkness.

All-Kill stares at her prone figure. Then sneers. “Nice try,” he calls, “but I know you can redirect the moonlight away from yourself! This little act won’t fool me!”

[ch4nb4ng]

Overdue Book

Pairing: librarian!chan x college!afab reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Vulgar, spanking, fingering, mention of erections, lots of degradation, mention of red marks, mention of mafia, hard!dom chan, sub reader, restraint, mention of hand cuffs

Summary: You liked to read a couple of naughty books here and there. But when one librarian gives you his books recommendation, and you lose it, you must be punished

Note: okay ngl im really nervous to post this fic bc it’s very out of my comfort/something i usually write so i hope it’s good and you enjoy it 🥺🥺

Your skin tingled once the clock struck nine, standing up immediately and closing the textbook shut, hoisting into your bag as you looked up, “Bye guys see you next week,” was all that could be heard as you scurried away, heading to the back right corner. The library closed early on Thursdays, 9:10 to be exact. So getting a novel for the night was crucial. Friday was your only day off, so that was the day. The weekly schedule was study group Thursday night, pick a book, take it without borrowing because you didn’t want to be seen reading that, read it all day Friday, return on Saturday, then go back to studying and classes from Sunday to Thursday. You were a very fast reader, and getting to those novels was definitely the highlight of your week.

A breath of fresh air escaped your chest as you looked at the bookshelf, taking a large whiff. There was something about the scent of the erotic novels that just did something to you. Part of you felt guilty, almost perverted, looking forward to just reading a bunch of sensual acts in words. However, the part of you that felt satisfied after reading the epic high that they gave you. You lifted your index fingers swiping across each book, each title. You had read almost half of them, more likely to lean towards the soft romantic ones. Full of sweet love making and passion. It also helped fill this hole of complete touch deprivation you have been experiencing. Going to college left much less time to have fun, fool around with people in real life. Reading these novels help you to escape the stressful reality that you are currently living.

“The library closes in 5 minutes.”

You jumped in your spot, hands covering your mouth to muffle the scream of the terror that released from your throat. You turned to see a guy. Blueish hair pushed off his forehead with glasses. His shoulders were wide, arms covered in a blazer jacket as he stepped closer to you, face expressionless as he looked at you intensely.

“Oh sorry,” he whispered, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, “just going to pick a book then go.”

“Oh yeah no worries.”

You nodded at him, still feeling his presence from behind you. The heat continued to rise in your cheeks, feeling flush the longer he lingered. The feelings of insecurity and self consciousness were creeping in simultaneously. You felt like you had been caught out. No one had ever caught you here before. This was definitely crawling into the top 10 embarrassing moments of your life. Trying to ignore him, you continued looking, but of course, finding difficulty choosing one that enticed you, one that pulled you in. That was when you felt the man come closer. Still standing behind, your eyes widened as you saw the arms reach out, heading straight for one as he swiftly pulled it out amongst the other books. He said nothing, instead matching your gaze as you fixated on him, well, his lips. They were big, plush, just so pink. The analysis continued, traveling past the jacket and to his hands, covered in ink that mimed of a skeleton. The shading was immaculate, very accurately and realistically tracing the phalanges, each joining bending with his own finger. You couldn’t help but stare, fascinated by the intricacy of such tattoos. He followed your eyes, completely catching you out. The boy’s lips turned upwards, cheeks gently flushing at you. He coughed, on purpose,awkwardly attempting to help you fall out of your fixated daze. Your eyes snapped, shaking your head minutely as you looked back at him.

“This is really good by the way,” he mumbled, sticking his hands out and passing the book to you, “one of my favorites, personally.”

“Oh,” you nodded, unsure what to say, “you’ve read this?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I’ve read most of the books in this section actually.”

The humiliation in your body had dissipated at his honest confession. You turned to look at him again, immediately feeling a difference in how eyes peered at you the moment your hands grasped his recommendation. The accidental brush of your fingers sparked through your body, almost jolting at the feeling. You sntached it awya from him, avoiding any more embarrassment. 

“Oh cool,” you nodded slowly, foot dancing on the floor as you stared at it, “well, thanks for the suggestion, I’ll let you know what I think.”

Giving him no time to reply, you walked at a fast pace, rushing out of the library and back to your dorm. Luckily for you, the stroll from the library to living headquarters was much more than a two minute walk. The cold air hit you like a ton of bricks, much needed after your body temperature rose to an all time high. Being caught out was not something that usually happened. You liked to think that you were the subtle type. Not really one to show interest when you found something, or someone out of the ordinary. It really was a rude awakening, highlighting how much of your social skills, or lack thereof, disappeared in the presence of an attractive individual.

Nonetheless, you reached your door, walking inside and closing it behind you, shaking your arms and limbs to rid yourself of such an awkward interaction. All you could think about was the way he looked at you. Like he pitied you. You wanted to crawl into your bed and never come out.

“Y/n?”

“Oh my god Felix,” you sighed, running over to your roommate and plonking yourself onto the couch, “the worst thing that could possibly ever happen to me, happened to me.”

“Jesus christ,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes at you, “I’d love to know this story, but Jisung is here to pick me up because I’m going to his.”

Your jaw dropped, watching Felix unapologetically walking towards the door.

“Have fun wallowing in your self pity though, I’ll be watching Captain America with the boys.”

And with that, he shut the door, leaving you to sink into the couch, swallowing in said self pity. You threw your bag down next to you, almost completely forgetting why this happened in the first place. Unzipping your bad rapidly, you shoved your hand in, rummaging, pulling it out. ‘The one who knew too much,’ read the title, intriguing your senses as you opened the book, flipping it until you reached the first chapter.

The novel was a very smooth, very easy read, keeping you on the edge of your seat at every moment. The typical scenario of a mafia boss, meeting a girl caught in the crossfire of two gangs. Their relationship was strictly professional, well, at first. There was always this tension that lingered, that was until ,of course, he found out she is a spy for the opposing gang, and she must be punished for her actions.

“How could you do this to me? You betrayed me”

“You think I wanted to? I abandoned the mission as soon as I laid my eyes on you.”

She walked up to him, dropping to her knees, begging for his forgiveness.

“You know, if this was anybody else, I would have dealt with you right then and there?”

“I am part of you. Part of your gang. Fuck the others.”

The smirk on his lips came to light as he looked down at her.

“You know, if this was anybody else, I would have dealt with them right then and there?”

“I know,” she mumbled, unsure of how to justify herself in this betrayal, “I’d do anything to show you how loyal I am to you. I love you.”

“Then you should be punished.”

“Fuck,” she moaned, feeling the sting of hos heavy slap her behind.

“I told you bunny,” he growled, spanking her once more, “you have to pay for what you did.”

The novel was much more than the usual type of stories you were into, but that wasn't to say that you didn’t enjoy it. The tension, plot, and seuxal scenes were much left to your imagination, and you didn’t know that you would like something more rough. A gasp left your lips at this current scene, taken aback by how arousing the mafia boss was truly making you. The image of him, the boys from before, the one who handed you the book, popped into your mind. You did little to shake off the image, ink covered hands seeping into your mind every time any mention of hands came to light in the novel. The heat rose to your cheeks once again, adjusting yourself on the couch, actually standing up and moving to your bed.

You crawled in, turning on your lamp as you continued to fully immerse yourself into the novel. You took no effort into erasing the stranger from your mind, in fact, the further you went on the more the image just changed, transitioning mafia bosses into him. ‘Oh shit,’ you choked, coming to the epiphany that you didn’t even get his name. Furthermore, you checked the time, seeing ‘3:00’ on your bedside clock. Oh shit, time had really flown by, and the book was coming to its end. You forced yourself to put the book down, closing your eyes and drifting to sleep, the only thought consuming your mind was the mysterious man from the library. It was probably best to save the last 100 pages for tomorrow.

***

Another Sunday. Back to studying. Felix grabbed his bag, following you out of your dorm and to the oh so infamous library. Sunday, even though I spent studying, was a much easier day, seeing as you got to study with your friends. All doing different majors, but all having exams at the same time. It was nice, also because you spent the majority of the time procrastinating. You felt sluggish, spending all of Saturday finishing the novel. It was an understatement to say how much you enjoyed it, definitely in your top 5.

“Changbin,” you smiled, seeing his face from through the clear glass of the grand state library. You sped walk, not wanting to be yelled at by a librarian for your excess speed. He stood up, opening his arms wide as he embraced you. Changbin was your best friend, the only one who studied the same major as you. 

“Hey Y/n,” he beamed, “ready for more study?”

“Oh,” you sighed, sitting down next to him, “you bet, so excited.”

He laughed at your sarcasm, opening your textbook to share. Studying with Changbin was always a treat. Mainly because he was the smartest one, already with notes prepared, basically letting you copy off him at any time. Another bonus was that he let you copy his assignments, helping you make sure it did not sound plagiarized.

“Fuck,” you sighed, banging your head on the table.

“Big night last night?”

“No,” you chuckled, “I did not go out last night, just stayed up reading.”

“Oh yeah,” Changbin smirked, playfully nudging your arm with his elbow, “what 50 shades of gray book are you reading now, huh?”

“Changbin,” you yelled, causing everyone in the library to stare at you. You put your hand up, a sign of apology before hiding behind him. 

“I did stay up reading a novel of the sort.”

Changbin giggled as he knew he had caught you out before you could even answer.

“Well you look like you didn’t get much sleep, and that’s not going to help us, so why don't we go get some coffee?”

“Ugh yes please, will also stop everyone staring at us.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as the two of you packed up your stuff, heading out of the library and around the corner to the local cafe. You sat at the table, checking your phone as Changbin went to order for the both of you. This was what usually happened before a long day of tedious work, going over the semantics of everything you have learnt over the past semester. 

You wanted to be present, in the moment, but it was too difficult. After isolating yourself for the past two days, the only activity that filled up those days was reading a very steamy novel, your brain was mush. The more you let your cognitions run wild the more those stupid, stupid tattoos lingering on your body, gripping and pushing you down, suffocating you, basically having any possible grip on you filled them. You thought you were crazy, the idea of a complete stranger having such a strong impact on you. Such filthy desires encapsulate your brain. It was insane. You were insane.

“Y/n?”

You were abruptly interrupted by your best friend, placing your coffee in front of you, “are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, just caught me out of it.”

“It’s all good,” he smiled, sitting across from you, “still thinking about that book hey?”

“You really like teasing me don’t you?”

“I can't lie,” he snickered, “it is fun.”

“Okay yeah anyways,” you interrupted, “the book was just so good, and it was recommended to me so I felt like I had to read it.”

You stopped, reaching over and pulling it out of your bag, you shoved it into Changbin’s chest, unable to look at him due to the overwhelming feeling of humility as he looked at the cover.

“The one who knew too much, hey?”

“Please stop,” you mumbled, head buried in your hands, “it was recommended to me so I read i-”

“Hey hey,” he interjected, “I’m not judging, we all enjoy certain things. I just get what I need by actually talking to people and hanging out with them.”

You looked up at him, face anything but impressed at his unwarranted brag.

“We get it Changbin, you’re a hoe,” you mocked, swinging your arms in the air, “swinging your dick around well! It’s not that easy for all of us to just find somebody!”

“So you fill the void with these, erotic books?”

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “it’s embarrassing, I know.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, “at least you’re getting smarter, me hanging out with random people is not going to help my literacy and writing skills now, is it?”

You shook your head, taking a sip of your coffee.

The rest of the cafe visit was nice, Changbin talking about what he had gotten up to during the week, how he was feeling about exams, and vice versa. You packed up your things, wanting to get studying before the day was over, and heading back to the library. 

Changbin opened the door for you, making his way back to the main table as you reopened your books, opening your laptop and getting your word document, beginning to type away, including the words in your textbook, underlined by your lucky pink highlighter.

***

 The majority of the study session was quiet, but a comfortable silence, easily consolidating your knowledge from the past semester. These were the times where you actually enjoyed college, effortless and willing to learn certain subjects, and you were lucky that the majority of your subjects were things you actually had an interest in.

Time went fast, and the end of the day was approaching. You turned to your side, seeing Changbin’s eyes slowly fluttering shut. You tapped him on the shoulder, feeling guilty for the dazed gaze he was giving you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair, “I’m just tired, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Okay,” you smiled, “get a good sleep, don't forget there’s an extra class tomorrow morning at 8:30 in the main lecture theater.”

“Sure thing,” he nodded, hazily standing up and grabbing his back, putting his books back into it, “goodnight, don’t go home too late.”

“I won’t,” you replied in song, waving as his backside faced you, walking out the library, around the corner, and disappearing from your eyesight. You rubbed your own, feeling the subtle sting most likely from the laptop screen as you continued. Just one more hour then you could go home, cuddle into your bed and have a nice sleep, ready for tomorrow’s classes.

The longer you went on, the more fatigued you became. 30 mins later, and that was enough for you to call it a night. Packing up your stuff, you stood up, but quickly remembered that you had to return the book. Looking around the room, you quickly analyzed, seeing that no one was around, before starting your gentle movement, pink-panther like as you crept to the back of the library, once again, hopefully able to put the book back where it was, nobody knowing, completely unaware. Only one arm of the backpack on your shoulder, you shrugged the other one off, undoing the zipper, opposite hand diving into the bag. At first, the only thing you could feel was your laptop, and the tall and wide texture that was your textbook. Hpmh. You took it off, placing it on the floor as you bent down, opening the bag completely and plunging both hands in there, searching with that little bit more desperation as you hurried. Fuck, it wasn’t there, which led you to your last resort; taking everything out of your bag and hoping it was there. The more frantic you become, the harder it is to find.

“Excuse me, the library closes in five minutes.”

Your heart was pounding against the ribcage. Although you had only heard it once prior, you could recognise it from anywhere. You turned your head sheepishly, looking up at the man from 3 days ago.

“Oh hey,” you smiled, standing up quickly, “it’s you. The book was uhm, a really good read!”

“So good that you didn’t borrow it?”

Oh shit, well that was all you were thinking. Confusion came second, why on earth would he care if you returned the book or not?

“And that bothers you because?”

“Because I work here, I’m a librarian,” he paused, ponting at his name tag, Chan,  “and not borrowing a book and misplacing it is a crime.”

Your stomach dropped. It never really crossed your mind until now. You literally just committed theft. You wracked your brain, trying to think of where you left it. But nothing was coming to mind, and you knew by the look on his face, the way his glasses were tilted down, gaze looking downward on you, that you were in deep shit.

“I hate to say it since I was the person that recommended that book for you, but I’m going to have to call the police.”

You eyes widened, seeing how nonchalant he was in walking away, tone completely indifferent into basically incriminating you. You followed him in pursuit, you had to. It’s not like you wanted to go to jail for misplacing an eortic novel, god could anything be more embarrassing, definitely not. You found him, effortlessly with the library pheon on hand. His lips opened, about to speak, and that was when you bolted, lunging across his desk, snatching the phone out of his hand. You hung it back up, watching his face drop into complete shock at your desperation.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Mr uhm Chan, but please don’t call the police on me.”

“But you stole the book, and lost it. Not only is that theft, but now the library has to pay to replace the book.”

His expression was far from impressive. He threw his head back, scoffing as he looked down on you, pathetically, bent over his desk. You could sense a sudden shift in energy from him, especially with that smirk. Like a predator, someone seeing their prey. You wanted to test him, see what he would say if you played a little game with him.

“Please I’ll do anything,” you pouted, doting your eyes, batting your eyelashes, “please. I do not want a criminal record.”

The man bit down on his lip, bending down to meet your height, “Anything?”

“Anything, please.”

“Right then,” he hummed, bringing his thumb to capture the underside of your chin, “wait here then, I’m sure we can work something out.”

He stood up again, swiping the keys that were swiped off the floor at your successful attempt to shut him down. He walked swiftly towards the door, easily fitting in the key to lock as he turned it in, blinds automatically turning down. You stood up yourself, watching in awe at how dark the broad space had become. Once they covered the windows completely, not a single person on the street was able to see you in sight, he made his way back over, wrapping his fingers around your delicate wrist as he began to pull you gently, leading you to a dark hallway, one that you had never seen before. You had been to this library infinitely, so many times, yet there was still some place you had yet to discover. Nothing could be seen, the only thing you could identify was his touch. The walls felt near, but not to the point where they were closing in. Just enough for two people to walk next to each other.

“I never caught your name, by the way,” he whispered, yanking at your wrist, “that would probably be a good start.”

“Y/n,” you mumbled, too distracted in making sure you didn’t fall over, “It’s Y/n.”

“What a pretty name,” he cooed, suddenly bringing the two of you to a halt, “Y/n, rolls of the tongue very nicely.”

Your arm fell to its side, looking to your left to see him flip a switch. Your eyes squinted, adjusting to the bright lights and you eyes scattered, seeing a room with nothing but a desk in the center. You took several steps forward, until your foot touched the leg chair. Your skin began to tingle, very nervous and just waiting in anticipation. He followed your footsteps, right until he was pressing into your backside. He took a deep breath, lifting a hand as he subtly pulled the material covering your shoulder. You gasped, feeling the air of his deep exhalation dancing across your exposed skin. It didn’t feel real. No man had ever been so forward, so straight to the point. It felt like something taken out of a novel, something you would watch in the movies.

“You smell really,” he paused, taking in another passionate inhalation through his nose, “really good.”

Your head rolled back, resting on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, gripping your waist tightly. His grip felt so good, everything you had imagined the moment you flipped that damn book open  to the first page. Your hands shadowed his palms on top of his as you leaned back, creating a very gentle friction. A deep groan escaped his lips, the nice guy disappearing within seconds as he pushed you forward, left hand traveling up to your upper back as he slammed you against the timber of the wooden desk.

“I’d love to be a nice guy,” he paused, chuckling, “but you betrayed me.”

He walked around, sitting at his desk, spreading his wide eye view as he looked down at you once more. The words, vocabulary he used. It sparked something in you. The cogs began to turn, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You took a moment, distracted by the half bulge appearing at the height of his pants.

“I betrayed you?”

“Oh yes,” he spoke, an angelic yet condescending tone, “you know, I really want to say I really wish that I didn’t didn’t give you that book.”

He paused, rolling the chair forward, placing his hand on the draw in front of him. An audible gasp left your lips when you saw him pull them out. Handcuffs, fluffy handcuffs. This was already charting into unfamiliar territory, but you did not care. Watching his ink blotted hands tightly grip the flur clatted cuffs. It was turning you on so much. You looked back up, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“But I saw you, the way you looked at me, at my hands, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled, realising he hd endured the same thoughts as yourself, “really?”

“Oh yeah,” He cooed, gently rubbing his free hand over his crotch, “so what did you think of the book?”

You gulped, hard. Trying to work out how you were going to tell him you thoroughly enjoyed the book. How you thought about him doing to you exactly how the mafia boss took the spy in every scene. How you thought about his hands, those damn hands, circulating around your body, making you very hot and very flustered that you read the book twice. The embarrassing feeling was beginning to keep it in, but you pushed it away, too turned on to even care whether you were embarrassing yourself.

“It was really good,” you whispered, too scared of a voice break from nerves, “I maybe, kinda read it twice.”

“Oh yeah?”He chuckled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Too bad you betrayed me though.”

Ugh. He was so cocky, so arrogant. You know you would usually never give a man like this the time of day. But you don’t know what it was. Maybe it was the fact that he had been the majority of your thoughts for the past several days, or the fact that he had you bent over, half hard, telling you how much he thought about you. You had no time to contemplate, however, the same phrase being repeated from his mouth.

“You keep saying that, why do you keep saying that?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he scoffed, shaking his head subtly, “I thought you were a smart girl.”

“I am smart,” you whined, watching his hands trail away from his length, and onto his thigh, “how would you know?”

He tapped his thigh twice, index finger and middle finger with a light tap as he kept his eyes on you, trying to analyze every single inch of your face, analyzing any change in facial expression you made.

“Would you like to have a seat?”

You nodded in compliance, standing up and walking around his desk. You sat down on his left leg, the bottom of your legs hanging over his right side as you looked down at him, yourself analyzing his facial expressions. You never noticed before, but his freckles, he had freckles. You thought it was cute, but by the look on your face, it definitely wasn’t the time to bring up something you found to be sentimental.

“You know, if this was anybody else, I would have dealt with you right then and there?”

“You know I didn’t do this on purpose?”

Your eyes widened, releasing where the book was. You snapped your fingers, unconsciously wrapping your arms around his shoulders for balance and the realization hit you.

“The book! It’s at the cafe! I can take you there first thing tomorrow morning, I swear to god I-”

“Are you sure you really want that?”

The smirk on his face was more than suggestive.

“What? Of course I want to find it, so you don’t get in trouble-”

“Do you think the library cares about such erotic novels? They don’t care about those books, I forgot about that a long time ago.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “oh.”

“Yeah baby,” he whispered, face almost coming into contact with yours, “I still want to punish you though. You know, if this was anybody else, I would have dealt with them right then and there?”

You looked down, taking the cuffs out of his hands with one swift motion, placing them on his desk. You swiped your legs around, now straddling Chan.You pushed forward, a gentle whimper escaping your lips at the gentle friction against your bundle of nerves.

“Am I special now?”

“Hm, maybe you are,” he smirked again, biting down on his bottom lip, “I’ve never wanted to punish somebody so badly before.”

“Oh really,” you groaned, getting truly aroused from his words, “can I tell you something then?”

“Sure baby.”

You leaned forward, lips passing his own and heading straight for your ear, licking up the outside of his ear, “I don’t regret losing that book.”

He grabbed you by the neck, one hand encompassing the surface area completely as he pulled you back, creasing his lips onto yours. He moved fervently, tongue already begging for entrance as his head moved swiftly, turning from side to side, finding the right angle with the intention to completely devour you. Your first moan was muffled, wanting to let him know how much you were enjoying his lips. Chan's thumb and index finger at the base of your throat, squeezing lightly, the slight oxygen cut off was intoxicating. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling away to look at you. He took you in, hands already leaving your throat and snaking down to the bottom of your shirt. You knew you were fucked, because you already missed how his hands felt on you. Arms lifting immediately, he smirked, scoffing when he saw you with nothing underneath. Part of you wanted to hide, being so exposed to someone you barely knew was usually intimidating. But Chan was helping you find a new level of confidence. The larger part of you liked it. Liked the way he was staring at your chest.His hands gripped your sides. Heavily dragging in an ascending matter until he reached each breast. He kneaded them in his hands, just like dough, making your grip on his shoulders tighten. He liked the way you reacted, throwing your head back at such gentle friction. His thumb ‘accidentally’ swiped your nipple, making you jolt in your seat.

“So sensitive,” he mumbled, doing the same thing again, “too bad you betrayed me.”

He pushed you off his lap, making you stand as he looked at the button at the top of your pants. He undid them in one motion, watching how easily they pooled to your ankles. 

“Aw,” he cooed, sticking his bottom lips out in an exaggerated manner, “blue panties, how cute.”

“You like what you see,” you smirked, twirling your hair in a naive manner, “I wore them just for you.”

So many thoughts were swimming around in your head. So many, but it was this moment when it finally hit you. The scene, that one scene from the book. Where she came out as a spy. Oh my god. Being punished. How could you be so stupid and not realise what he was getting at.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he spat, eyes raking your almost naked body, “waiting around, not knowing if you would see me again or not, such a little slut aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” you whined, dropping to your knees, “only a little slut for you Chan, sir.”

You climbed forward, turning around with your hands behind your back. You saw him within seconds, reaching for the cuffs like his life depended on it as you grabbed your wrists, somewhat in a rough manner as you heard the cliffs click, adjusting to the size of your wrist. The coolness of the fresh metal relaxed you, your body feeling at ease. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling in your own space as you waited. Waited for his next step to see what he wanted. You could see nothing, only the sound of what sounded like lined, metal clinking and clothed material sliding away before you heard his command.

“Turn around.”

You did so, tongue sticking out flat as he presented himself to you, body completely exposed. 

“Oh wow,” you smirked, eyes in like with his now completely hardened cock, “I thought I was being punished.”

“You are,” he responded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“But you want me to suck you off?”

“Yeah baby, you don’t want to?”

You climbed onto his lap, hands on either side of his thoughts as you spread them apart, lips inching, just barely, so close to the tip of his cock. His face changed in the slightest, this dominating facade slightly dropping the moment you teased him. You couldn’t tell if he was desperate or frustrated that you were toying with him, not playing by the rules he was demanding of.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you whined, bringing your left hand to the base of his cock, seeing the teeth sink into the skin below his lip, “I just don’t think this is a punishment. It’s a reward.”

Your hand moved slowly, seeing the contortion in his face as he tried to remain calm. Chan couldn’t help it, your hands felt so good wrapped around him. He had already jerked off thinking about it multiple times. He was already so obsessed with you, the way you back chatted him, the way you didn’t give into him so quickly. He didn’t know if his fixation with you was toxic or not, but Chan simply did not care. Your hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him was enough for any rational thought to leave his brain.

“You’re such a fucking slut y/n,” he groaned, “bet you’ve been thinking about me like this, dont you?”

“Aw you’re so cute, but I can hear your voice, struggling to speak, it turns me on so much.”

You stuck your tongue out, playing with his dick so that it hit your tongue over and over. Teasing someone had never been so much fun. It was so easy to push his buttons. There was a being protruding, at the center of his forehead. It made you feel accomplished, like your job was already done.

“You’re right,” you giggled, going back to using your hand only, “I am such a slut, but only for you Chan. Only for you sir.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, wanting to spit on you, “fuck this.”

He stood up, grasping your arm as he also made you stand. He sat back however, grabbing you by the waist, plummeting you down across his lap. Your clothed ass sat across his thighs. It didn’t take long for him, rather than pulling your panties down and throwing them across the room, he ripped them, not even giving you the decency of being fully naked.

“You think you can control me? After everything, stealing from me, lying through your teeth, wow you really a worthless little whore, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you moaned,” enjoying the vulgarity of his words to describe you, “I like pushing your buttons.”

Your voice was the one that was coming out strained now, making him chuckle already. He ripped your panties even further, leaving one large whole down the middle, material falling onto either side of his lap as he inspected your ass. His right hand traveled over, soothingly rubbing the soft skin of your backside. A satisfied hum came form your lips, wanton in the way his calloused fingertips felt.

“You certainly do, and you’ve had your fun,” he paused, lifting his hand, giving the first blow to your ass, “but now you have to learn.”

A large whimper escaped your lips, grafted in the way your skin was left searing, burying at his heavy hand. The heat felt so good, making you moan at how you knew there would be two big hands marks spread across your cheeks. You giggled heavily, a hum following as another he spanked you again, and again, and again.

“Ah,” you squeaked, “I must have been a really bad girl, huh?”

“Fuck yes you have,” he growled, fingers spreading past your cheeks, “so fucking naughty.”

His fingers reach your folds, spreading them evenly, watching the arousal dripping from your hole. He groaned once more, solely gratified in how easily your wetness was coating his fingers. He swiped one up, roughly swiping an individual finger against your clit, causing you to almost fall off of his lap. Lucky Chan had good reflexes, because he withdrew them straight away, gripping your hips, forcing you back ever higher on his lap. 

“For such a big mouth, you sure are sensitive.”

There was nothing you could say, because he had banged the nail right on the head. Your body was already so sensitive, so fragile to his touch, like he was a magician with magical, spiritual fingers. Every single time his tips touched you, on your arms, legs, inner thighs, your pussy, a spark of electricity erupted, and you became light headed, completely intoxicated and melting into his touch.

He took his glasses off, placing them on the desk as he spread his legs, allowing more room for his elbow to come between your knees, spreading your own limbs farther apart, before sliding his fingers back into your folds. A well audible gasp left his lips at how easily his fingers plunged into your pussy. Your body shook, the unexpected fingers coming as a complete surprise. Nonetheless, a deep moan erupted from your chest. He pumped at an immense rate, on the other hand bringing continuous blows to your ass cheeks. The several different types of sensations were already overwhelming you, but you simply did not care. If anything, it just added to the toxic, crazy dizziness you were already experiencing. You felt dirty, dirty in the way you let a complete stranger bend you over and punish you for a regretful behavior. Dirty in the way that your ass was burning, sitning, practically on fire. How pathetic this scene would have looked to an outsider. But the part that made you feel the dirtiest, was how much you were enjoying this. Your whole was already clenching, the squalching was loud, echoing around his digits. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, in fact, most of the sex you particiapted in was intimiate, soft, playful, love making. No full force, spanks, choking were never even close to being coordinated into your sexy time. You didn’t know you could be aroused to this level.

Sweat beads covered your forehead, luckily not facing Chan as he quickened his fingers inside of you. A gentle whine escaped your lips, feeling every texture, every timbre, every single inch of his digits. The callous on his palms hitting your clit, wrinkles of his knuckles hitting your velvetine walls. Nothing could be more splendid.

“Oh my god,” you cried, completely exasperated, hands still cuffed behind your back as your legs began to shake.

“So fucking dirty you are,” he hissed, giving you another spank in the process, “you like being absolutely wrecked like a fucked out slut, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I fucking love it.”

“Of course you do,” he scoffed,increasing his pace to a quicker rate, “fucking whore.”

Another whine left your lips the longer this continued. You could feel it, in the pit of your stomach. You knew the peak of arousal was coming soon, any second in fact, but you did not want it to end. Yes, you were already fucked out, but you wanted to be exhuated, at the point of complete exhaustion. Chan let you another chuckle, biting on his bottom lip as your juices soaked his fingers, continuing to fill the acoustics of the air as he mercilessly pumped you. He could feel it too, especially how much your hole was clenching around him.

“Say you’re sorry,” he grunts, followed by one more blow to your left cheek, “beg for it. You don’t even deserve to come, even though you’re so. Fucking desperate.”

This thrusts matched his words, increasing in force with each word of encouragement.

“I’m sorry,” you strained, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you struggled to speak, mouth wide open, “I can’t, I can’t hold it.”

He brought his fingers to a halt, anything but satisfied with your answer. He withdrew them completely, instead, keeping his index finger on your nerve bundle. There was no movement, yet you rutted your hips against him, as much as you could due to the restraints making it somewhat difficult to control your body. His free hand spanked you, again, a shake of his head followed. It made you stop in your tracks, making you realize that you were in deep shit. 

“You seriously want to act like a fucking brat?”

You said nothing, a small whimper escaping your lips at the very, very subtle rounded movement on your clit.

“Look at you, you’re so fucking patehtic. Fully naked, pussy dripping, and me, fully clothed, barely touching anything. First you lied to me, and now you want to misbehave?”

“No, I’m sorry I-”

“Shut up,” he hissed, completely cutting you off before slamming his fingers back into your pussy once more, “you’re gonna beg to cum, and you’re going to fucking like it, do you understand?”

He brought his hand to your neck, reassuming his gentle pressure prior to the chamber of your throat as he continued to finger you. Your jaw dropped, breath hissing like a snake from the gentle cut off of oxygen supply.

“Please,” you wheezed, “I’ll be a good girl and never do anything.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, “keep talking.”

“I love being your filthy little slut. You make me feel so good. Can’t hold it in anymore. Please, please let me come.”

“You’re convincing me,” he smirked, smugness very apparent in his tone, “keep begging for me like the pathetic little slut you are.”

“Ah fuck,” you cried, hips begginng to jolt back anf forth, “please let me cum, I can’t hold it any longer hhhh.”

It was true, and the last thing you wanted to do was cum without permission. Your abdomen was tightening, and the coil that was your orgasm was so tight it was ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice tonight,” he snickered, “why don’t you cum for me?”

It really took you a matter of seconds before your body flopped like a fish, Chan holding a grip on your hips as you let yourself go. Hands fingers moved in a smooth manner. He adjusted to your cry, letting your hips rutt on his fingers as he cooed you through your high.

“That’s it,” he whispered, a gentle hush spreading over the room as your jaw locked open, “such a good girl cumming around my fingers like that.”

The sudden praise made you grateful.

“Thank you, sir’ you sighed, breath completely exasperated, “thank you for letting me cum.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he replied, draggin you slightly forward as he opened his drawer and reached for his key. He undid the buckle in one swift motion, a sigh of relief heaving from your lungs as you brought your hands to your face. The red marks around the wrist made you heat, rotating them a little to bring back any feeling to them. 

“Did you want to sit up?”

You nodded, allowing Chan to grab you by the wait. He helped you up, letting you straddle his lap. He brought your wrist to his lips, showering them in kisses. It was sweet, but also took you aback. You were truly unsure how these two sides of him contradict each other. You smiled at him, somewhat embarrassed of how such a simple task made you so giddy.

“That was really fun.”

‘Yes,” you nodded, pressing a peck to his lips, “I had a really good time.”

“Are you okay? I hope I wasn’t too crazy.”

You looked up, into his eyes, nothing but genuine fear and concern behind them. You shook your head, booping his nose and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder as you nuzzled into him.

“No, it was great, you were great. And yes, I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Ah,” he replied, unsure what else to say. He didn’t want to violate a possible boundary. Like the epiphany you had before, he barely knew you. He didn't know where you lived, if you lived alone, with friends, parents. He was waiting there, patiently waiting for you to say something. He was hoping, secretly, that that wasn’t the end of the night, seeing as he basically destroyed you, ass covered in red prints. He wanted to take care of you. Pick you up and swoop you into a cloud. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?”

“Oh, I can?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, lifting your head from his chest, “it’s late and I’m too scared to walk to my dorm at night. I also would not want you to be on the streets at this hour by yourself either.”

You stood up from his lap, finding your clothes and dressing yourself in a timely manner. He walked you back to the library, grabbing your backpack for you as you walked out, Chan following behind as he turned the lights off, locking the automatic door, and standing on his heels, shyly waiting for you to direct him to your abode. The two of you began to walk, a comfortable silence dancing over before your brain finally felt like it switched back on, heading straight to the book.

“Fuck,” you gasped, “the book.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah it’s fine,” he shrugged, “we can go to the cafe tomorrow morning and check if it’s there, otherwise I just have to put in a form, along with like 50 other books that get stolen to get another one.”

You scoffed, thawing your head back at how nonchalant he was.

“And to think we could have done that this whole time.”

“We could have,” he whispered, “but really I just needed an excuse to see you again.”

[chiwhorei]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

𝐚𝐤𝐚: 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬!!

pairing: t. amajiki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~1.3k

tags: pervy!tamaki, mean!tamaki, dubcon, degradation, voyeurism, masturbation, tentacles in all of readers holes, dacryphilia, choking

a/n: this is my very late contribution to the whorehouse porn compilation, the rest of this questionable browser history can be found here! strap in because this might be the grossest shit i’ve written so far. no plot, porn is the point here friends.

(cross posted to Ao3!)

hymn: gooey by the glass animals

The first time was an accident, genuinely.

He meant to text you he would be home early, ever the courteous roommate, but it truly just slipped his mind. Surprise would be an understatement when he swings the front door open to the high pitched whines coming from your bedroom.

Curiosity piquing, Tamaki lines his shoes up by the door and follows the noise. He can see the outline of light seeping through your open door and hears another round of cries. 

“Hey, are you ok--” His words flop lifelessly on the floor in front of him. Oh.

Oh.

His eyes trail up from the end of your bed. The open laptop propped in between your legs, the bottle of lube sitting next to your knee, your bare thighs and--

“Do you like what you see, Suneater?”

Tamaki flushes, heat starting at the bridge of his nose and spreading across every inch of skin. He should really say something, or better yet, close your fucking door and do the rest of his processing on the other side. 

He can’t seem to do anything but stand and stare at the dripping wet toy still being pumping in and out of your cunt. It seems to have completely hypnotized him, watching the way the silicone disappears in between your slick folds, he swears he can see the quiver.

“What do you think about my toy?” Purple and oblong, you pull it all the way out. Tamaki’s stare burns right into the suction cup ridges and slim, curved tip. You drag it in a wet line up your skin, meeting your lips with a pout. 

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

* * *

First time, shame on you.

That’s what they say, but Tamaki finds himself pressing against your doorframe and peering into your room for the 3rd time this week. His feet pull him here like a nasty habit, the crack in your door is far too welcoming. 

You left it open just for him.

Tamaki’s ears twitch, forehead tacky with sweat as he presses against the frame. Every time he finds himself in this very same position, shame trickles down his spine like poison.

Every inch of your skin is exposed to his stare. Looking upon you is invasive and slimy and wrong but fuck, with every movement of your toy, pumping in tandem with the hand around his painfully hard cock, the more each stolen glance feels intravenous. Tamaki is addicted. 

All he wants to do is touch you. Wrap you in his hold and explore every inch. He wants to know what your skin feels like. 

What does your hair smell like up close? He’s only ever been privy to the occasional carryover of strawberry as you walk by him in the kitchen. How do your moans feel vibrating just above his mouth? Would you cry out for him to stop or to keep going?

He’s never stepped closer than the line between carpet and hardwood, but that's really only a technicality. 

You feel it, foreign but unmistakable. The touch of something crawling up your leg, soft and sticky. It wraps around your leg, crawling upwards in salacious vines. Your voice rings in Tamaki’s ears. He repeats every syllable like prayer, his invitation.

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

There’s no movement to stop him, you don’t scream or tell him to fuck off. Your body seems to welcome him, back arching as five quirked fingers wrap around your arms and hips. The popping of suction cups trail from your belly button, dragging against your breasts before you feel pressure at your neck. Your skin will be covered in round bruises in the morning. The kindling in Tamaki’s stomach feels more like a wildfire, shy demeanor melting away. The man in front of you isn’t going to waste any more time hesitating.  

“You’re such a little tease. You like fucking with me don’t you, princess?” Tamaki’s question is sneering, his tone cold and unfamiliar.

The tentacle wrapping around your neck squeezes tight enough to make you gasp, he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

He doesn’t really want you to answer him.

As soon as your lips part, your mouth is invaded. The tendril reaches all the way to the back of your throat before it lets up, your jaw already hurting at the stretch. Your vision blurs, the taste of briny-sweet flesh mixes with the salty tears running down your face.

You’re given only a moment to sputter, catching your breath before it’s taken away again, the squeals and cries bubbling in your throat are wasted energy.

“Always leaving your door open, teasing me. I’m not playing your games anymore.” Tamaki’s voice is unwavering, he’s serious.

You wail around the rubbery texture as another tentacle wraps around your breasts, suctioning on the sensitive peaks of your nipples. Tamaki moves closer with each sound he can pull from you, finally breaching the last shreds of privacy and shuffling across the carpet. All five fingers on his right hand are busy probing parts of your pliant body and restraining others. Through the haze you can’t deny how dexterous he is while making a mess of you. 

It would be impressive if you could think straight.

Each arm and leg is caught in the reddish-purple web, writhing against his hold only makes Tamaki’s grip tighter.

“I could do anything to this sweet little body, what could you do to stop me?” His words should scare you, but only one thing runs through your foggy head. 

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

If you could, the scream pressed against your makeshift gag would definitely alert your neighbors to the depravity just a wall away. You feel attention turning to the toy still plugging your weeping hole, a tentacle wrapping around the base and pulling it free with a squelch. From the corner of your eye, you catch the shiny plastic as it’s thrown to the other side of the room, hitting your wall with a hollow thud.

The tip of one tentacle prods at your clit for good measure before poking inside. Fear runs through your blood, cooling when mixed with overwhelming pleasure. Tamaki can reach places you’ve never felt before.

“So tight, so fucking warm.” Tamaki can feel you with each clench of your pussy, sliding in until he can feel tight band of your cervix. He could ruin you if he wanted, he ventures to guess you would let him.

You’re crying in long, fat streaks around the apples of your cheeks. With the help of another set of weaponized fingers, your legs are spread further and pushed to your chest. Tamaki’s cock aches, now ignored in favor of manipulating your body into a new angle so your ass is propped up. Muscles tense as he swipes the tip of his tentacle to trace around your rigid ring of muscle.

“I’ll take every one of these slutty little holes. You’ll feel me on your skin for days.” He promises you, pushing past your resistant muscles, they’re no match.

Your head is swimming now, logic is replaced with the feeling of being so full.

Stimulation assaults your senses from every direction, Tamaki fucking into your body with fatal rhythm. Going farther, deeper, harder. All you’re left with is shaking limbs and muted whines.

It hurts, it feels so good. It’s so disgusting but so hot. You’re meek, bushy roommate has made you little more than a fucktoy with what seems like minimal effort. You’re hurdled to a sloppy wet orgasm faster than ever before. 

Tamaki can tell that you’re close, studying the way your eyes screw up and brows furrow before falling over the edge for weeks from the comfort of your door jam. The consuming bliss overtakes your body, every muscle tensing, shaking from exhaustion as the cord pulls tight and snaps with fury. If you could, you would scream out the name of your captor, all you can manage a garbled sound from deep in your chest.

The next few moments find you in pieces. The feeling of emptiness knocks at your hypersensitive body as you’re flipped to balance weakly on your hands in knees. You’re not left alone for long, Tamaki’s just getting started.

He’s never been one to play with his food, but you’re just too tasty.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @trinittyy @ziamslarry-blog @a531a​ @s-u-t​ @sunshinechim-98​ @callmechannel​ @lil-hungryy​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @scissorkidscult​  @madamerubrum  

[oppositeurmama]

The Bear and the maiden fair (Bjorn X Reader)

A/N - this contains smut with dubious consent! I don’t want anyone to get triggered, so if you are not comfortable with this, pls don’t read! <3

Warnings; violence, dub-con

P.s - I don’t condone any of the following actions, I find it repulsive.

The castle had been stormed hours ago. The villagers had died first, slaughtered in their homes and in their forges, the blacksmiths branded with their own tools, the butchers sliced and diced like prized hogs. And after the village had been burned to the ground, the plunderers came to the castle. They forced down the great oak doors, killed any who stood in their way. 

My father had been the first to die. He’d been on his throne when one of the barbarians had launched a spear, and it hit him straight through the gullet, the sharp iron tip pinning him into the wood backrest. My mother had been the second to die, after she screamed for god to help. 

But the gods were cruel. They didn’t listen to women anymore, even high-born ones like me, even though i was the lucky one. As my family were gutted, i had hid in the only place i could dare think to hide; my bedroom. It wasn’t a clever or sneaky place to hide, to be true, but the door locked and there was only one key, and i was the sole owner.

***

Hours passed. The screams filled my castle, blood splattered the wall and stained the cobbled floors, and those damned screams and pleas of help fell on deaf ears, forgotten by the barbaric cries of the savages who seeked only to slaughter, to take and to take, to never give back. 

I was beneath my bed when the door came crashing down. A great axe stuck through the wood and stripped back the bark, hack hack hack! I held my breath, placed my hands over my mouth as my chest heaved, seeking sanctuary in the dark low confines underneath my wooden bed. 

The door opened, squealing on iron hinges. Goosebumps prickled my skin. The viking stepped through the doorway, treading heavy over chunks of splintered wood and debris. “Princess.” He called, in a growling rasp. “You ran, little princess, and we didn’t know where.” The viking walked across the vast expanse of my room and he dragged his sword against the floor, the iron sparking against the cobbles. “i found you, princess. And now . . .” 

I swallowed a sob and the scraping of his sword stopped. He turned on his heel and before i could barely comprehend, he’d gripped my ankle and pulled me out from under the bed. “You’re mine!”

He pinned me down, and I glanced up at him, too frightened to dare speak, my words catching in my throat, my tongue growing fat from fear. And despite my terror, no tears fell. “Bjorn ironside.” I said, shakily. “You’re Bjorn Ironside.”

A flash of moonlight set his face alight. His smile was cruel and thin. “I am.” He admitted, and my jaw trembled. My chest heaved with the effort it took to breath and not scream for help, or even to sob. “Are you going to kill me?”

Bjorn smiled and gripped my jaw between his thumb and forefinger. He studied me as though i was a fine piece of art-work, his favourite book, a goddess of lore. Finally, he spoke. “No, i won’t kill you. You’re too . . . sweet, for a thing like that, princess.”

I tensed my shoulders, but his eyes were too bright, almost eerie. They cut through me like glass, stripped me bare, left me ashamed and uneasy. His voice was a low, guttural rasp. “Will you fight me, little princess?” He questioned, raising my hands above my head. “Will you beg me to stop?” He took a small dagger from the leather throng at his side, and used it to divulge me of clothing. 

I shook my head. “No.” I said, quietly, too meek to even resist. I truly beleived that, even if i tried to protest or even raise my knee to that tender spot between his legs, he’d beat me black and bloody. 

At my answer, the Viking smiled. “Good.” 

The stone floor was cold against my back. Even if i wanted to fight, i couldn’t. He was too heavy, covering me with his bulk. His hands were rough and careless against my skin, as the icy blade of his dagger slit the soft silk of my bodice and when he lowered his face to kiss me, i tasted blood.

Bjorn’s fingers were mean and cruel against my warm skin, and they travelled to my core, only to find me dry. He grunted against my mouth, irked. When we parted, i turned my face to the side, wrinkled my nose up in disgust. 

Bjorn chuckled lowly and spat on his hand, then lowered it between my legs. “Don’t worry, princess.” He assured, slipping a thick finger into my cunt. “You’ll learn to like this soon enough.” 

It was uncomfortable and foreign. I squirmed and his hot, hungry mouth lowered to bite and nip and kiss my neck. I tried to lift my torso, but he was impossible to move. “Don’t.” I said, harshly. 

He raised his face and smiled. I spat in his face. 

His eyes grew cold, like pale blue ice. It frightened me, and my heart beat heavy and hard beneath my chest, thump thump thump, faster than a snared rabbit’s. “Fiesty, huh?” He questioned, and laughed cruelly. 

The swollen head of his cock was at my entrance. He was big, and he was brutal. With one hand pinning my arms above my head, the other gripped my hip, leaving bruises in his wake. and with one sharp thrust, i wept. 

His jaw clenched and, as though he was punishing me, Bjorn pulled his hips back hard if only to slam back inside me again. The metal of his armour scratched my tender skin, and my cunt burned around his cock, raw and red and aflame.

His movements grew more frenzied, the harsh thrusting depriving me of air in my lungs. His hand firmly squeezed my hip, my back hit the ground hard, and then  I collided against his torso the next. It was almost as if we were fighting instead of coupling. When he thrust forward and the tip of his dick hit my cervix painfully, a bolt of hot pain shot through my stomach when he slammed back into me, harder than before. I shut my eyes and yelped. 

He grimaced and pushed me back to the floor, with his hand forcing my arms into the stones. His groin bumped against my sensitive mound, assuring that no trace of my precious maidenhead remained. “Hold onto me.” He grunted, lifting up one of my thighs. 

I glanced over his muscular shoulder, my eyes trained on the ceiling and the twinkling chandelier, though in the gloom everything was unrecognizable. I did as he bid, wrapped my legs around his hips and looped my arms around his neck, unwilling to fight anymore. 

When Bjorn thrust inside me, it didn’t hurt as much. Encouraged, i clutched at him as tightly as i could, the smell of sweat and blood filling my nostrils, the sound of his moans vibrating against the shell of my ear. I arched my back and predicted his cruel thrusting, and slowly, the friction from Bjorn’s cock pounding away at my cunt managed to rouse a queer tickling sensation at the pit of my stomach. My eyelids grew heavy.

Bjorn lowered his other hand to palm my breast, pushing aside the silk fabric of my slashed dress, as he rolled my hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You like that, princess?”

My cunt clenched at his incessant pounding. I dug my nails into the tanned nape of his neck, and whimpered. He pressed his warm lips to mine and kissed me, tasting strongly of iron. His beard scratched my face, and he plunged his tongue deeper into my mouth. He brought his hand between our bodies and i flinched, expecting more pain, only to find pleasure; hot, flashing bolts of pleasure. 

The friction of his manhood as he tirelessly impaled me, and the queer warmth which was pooling in my stomach tainted my thoughts. I moaned into his mouth and he cursed, “Fuck.” 

Beneath him, my whole body shook when he played with my clit. I hit my peak, toes curling, back arching, breasts pushed flat against his muscled chest, quivering and whimpering beneath him, my gasps and pleas smothered by his hot, hungry mouth. And with my climax, came his. 

Bjorn shoved himself to the hilt and uttered a long, low growl. He kept me flush against him for more than a moment, and after a few desperate thrusts, he stiffened and collapsed, crushing me beneath his bulk.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. When he pulled out and leaned back on his heels, lifting up my silk skirts to look admiringly at my tender pussy, he grinned. Between my thighs was a sticky mess of cum and blood. He leaned down and licked the entirety of my cunt from hole to mound, and i pushed him away, too tender to be played with. “Please.” I begged, shaking my head. “No more.” 

Bjorn crawled atop me and wedged his knee between my thighs to keep me from closing them. “Easy now, princess.” He muttered, capturing my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine. He kissed me rough and i tasted blood, my blood, on his tongue. “You’re mine.” He said, finally. “All mine.”

[quiltedgold]

study buddies - leorio p.

pairing: leorio paladiknight x f!reader

wc: 1.9k

genre: smut. 18+ pretty please

contains: smut, unprotected sex, switch!leorio, switch!reader, college-age, handjob, yada yada

notes: this has not been proofread so forgive any mistakes. my friend saw a tiktok art this concept and inspired me to write this. also the empty leorio smut tag made me sad, so. enjoy :p

As you approached the door of your apartment, you dug in your bag for your keys, and… Nothing. No metal against your fingertips or jangling sounds from the depths of the backpack.

Damn it. No way you forgot them in Leorio’s apartment. You two had been studying for so long, and you were positive you had gathered up all your things from the table before heading out…

After one last sweep of your backpack, you were positive. No keys.

Sighing, you turned to make the trek back across campus to Leorio’s place. It wasn’t too far, a fifteen minute walk, ten if you hurried. Hopefully he was still up.

Before long, you were back at the entrance to his apartment complex. Grabbing your phone, you dialed him up and waited as it rang, then went to voicemail. Ah, maybe he was in the shower? No matter, you had a spare key to his place in case of emergencies, and he for yours. He wouldn’t mind if you used it to grab what you needed and got out of there. Fishing it out of your bag, you unlocked the door and headed up to his floor.

Rapping twice on the door, you called out- “Hey, Leorio? It’s me, I forgot something…”

No reply.

Frowning, you slotted the key into the lock and eased the door open, hoping he wasn’t asleep.

Before you saw him, you heard him. Quick, ragged breaths, and the wet, unmistakable sound of… Oh, god.

He was splayed on the couch, his legs spread and his sweatpants loose around his thighs. His head was thrown back against the cushions, facing towards the door, and you. His face was twisted in pleasure, his teeth digging into his lower lip. His sunglasses were nowhere to be seen.

The sounds you heard were coming from his hand wrapped around his dick, rapidly fisting it into his palm. As you watched, his hips stuttered upwards once, and he threw his head back even further, letting out a whine, adam’s apple bobbing up his throat. He looked absolutely debauched.

Your brain battled with your desires, respect for your friend warring with the thoughts raging through your head.

Just when you thought you could work up the courage to leave, Leorio moaned your name in the most breathless, needy tone you’d ever heard from him, followed by a whiny, “Fuck, y/n, please-”

Your feet were immediately frozen to the floor, heart leaping into your throat. Your common sense told you to scram, to shut the door quietly and let him have his privacy and forget this ever happened, for both of your sakes’.

But the other part of you was louder. The part who knew that you’d been lusting after your friend for months, the part who’s encouraged the urge to crawl into his lap and kiss him breathless and more each time you hung out to study, but always been stifled… until now. That part of you made your brain kick into gear again.

You stepped quietly inside, shutting the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and placing your bag on the ground.

You padded over to the couch, face heating up with anticipation as you got closer.

“Leorio…” you whispered, and his eyes flew open, letting out a choked gasp. The hand around his dick halted its ministrations, and he scrambled to pull his sweatpants back up.

“Oh my god, y/n, I’m so sorry, I, I thought you had left-”

“If you were so pent up, you could have asked for my help,” you hummed, gently pushing his hand away from his sweatpants. “What else is a study buddy for?”

Leorio gulped, desperately searching your eyes for confirmation that his actions weren’t wrong, that you meant what you were saying. His pupils were still blown with pleasure, sweat beaded across his forehead.

You trailed your fingers up his thigh, ghosting the base of his dick.

“Need some help?” you asked, holding his gaze for affirmation.

“Yes, please, god, yes. I- I need you so bad, please,” he moaned, bucking his hips up into your featherlight touch.

Smiling, you retracted your hand and fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt instead. “I want you to show me how you were doing it,” you requested.

Gasping, he grabbed his cock again and began pumping it, screwing his eyes shut with pleasure and perhaps shame.

“Tell me what you think about when you do it,” you said, sliding a hand beneath his shirt.

“You, always you,” he moaned without hesitation. “Kissing you, eating you out, f-fucking you, nngh-” He cut himself off as your fingers circled his nipple.

“Keep going,” you teased.

“Oh, god. You, sucking my- my cock, under the table or in the shower, or- fuck!” He jolted as you gave his nipple a pinch. “Please, I want you to… I want-”

“Want me to jerk you off?” You offered.

“Yes,” he answered, gasping.

With a devilish grin, you slid onto the couch next to him and tucked yourself into his side, placing your hand atop his on his cock, entangling your fingers and leading the pace, purposefully slowing it down. You moved with long, slow strokes, squeezing lightly at the base and tracing your thumb against the tip. He was painfully hard, beads of precum oozing from the angry red tip, and his hips bucked up with every especially hard squeeze.

“Fuck,” he garbled. “Fuck, y/n, it’s so good, please, I need to… I need to c-come, please-”

“Go ahead, Leorio,” you purred. “Come for me.”

With a strangled moan, his hips jutted upwards one last time and cum spurted from his tip, painting both of your knuckles’ white. Each pulse of liquid sent a jolt up his cock, and you squeezed it lightly as he rode out the bulk of his orgasm.

As he wound down, panting, you lifted your hand from his dick and brought it to your mouth, making sure he watched as you lapped up his salty substance from each finger. His eyes, already lidded, darkened with desire.

Flitting your gaze down again to his length, you saw that, unbelievably, it was still hard.

“Y/n,” he rasped. “Let me fuck you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod before he flipped you over, back pressed into the cushions and head against the arm of the couch. In the blink of an eye, he had your shirt and skirt off, leaving you in simply the matching set of lingerie you’d worn in the event that this was an outcome of tonight’s study session.

Leaning back on his heels, he raked his eyes across your figure, admiring each inch, squeezing the base of his cock again with the sight of you.

Struck with a wave of self-consciousness, you pressed your thighs together and turned your head into the armrest, face burning.

Leorio tsked, “Don’t get shy now, not after you just jerked me off on my own couch,” he growled, slotting his knee in between your thighs to force them apart. Running a finger along your covered slit, he stopped when he reached your heat, pressing lightly then bringing his finger up to examine.

“Oh, my god, you’re soaking,” he groaned, sucking his finger into his mouth to lap your juices clean. He leaned down to capture you in a kiss, hungrily sucking at your lower lip and dipping his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and something that normally would have disgusted you only served to turn you on further as your tongues pressed against each other. You kissed hungrily for several moments, until the heat burning down below became too much to bear.

“Please, fuck me,” you moaned into his ear, looping your arms around his neck. “I can’t wait any longer, please.”

Nodding, Leorio wasted no time, shoving your panties to the side and lining his cock up with your entrance. Even the touch of his tip against your hole had both of you groaning, and he met your gaze and held it as he pushed his length all the way in. You wailed, wrapping your legs around his trim waist and trying everything to pull him closer, deeper.

His cock stretched your walls deliciously, filling you perfectly and making you wonder how you could have ever lived without this.

After his pelvis pressed flush against yours, his length as deep as humanly possible, he paused to give you time to adjust. Time held still, your breathing synched, his head dropped against your shoulder and pressing openmouthed kisses against your collarbone, light sideburns scratching gently against your jawline.

Then the moment was over, and he pulled out entirely, just the tip remaining. You almost cried at the loss, but he thrusted back into your heat before you could procure the sound.

The pace he set was breakneck, cock slamming into your tight hole, his moans echoing in your ear. What should have been too much only fanned the flames of your lust, throwing your head back with each thrust and crying his name and an assortment of obscenities.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Leorio groaned, breathless. “Ever since you came to my place in that short-ass skirt and kept uncrossing your legs in front of me, god-”

His hands gripped your waist for dear life as he fucked into you, the size of them deliciously large compared to your frame, his thumbs practically touching. Leorio’s fingers pressed shadows into the soft of your stomach, undoubtedly leaving marks by the end of the night; which you couldn’t find it in yourself to be unhappy about.

“Remember that?” He asked, rolling his hips in a way that made you squeal. “I was convinced you were doing it to- nngh- to tease me. By the end of the night I was this close to bending you over the table and taking you right there, shit.”

Catching his breath, he leaned down to hiss in your ear. “But I guess that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Little slut.”

Fuck. You wailed at that, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase against his back, likely leaving scratches against its tan expanse.

He groaned, speeding up the pace of his thrusts, cock insatiably hot and thick inside you. “Y/n, I’m close- want you to come with me, c’mon-”

Thankfully, the incessant slapping of his balls against your ass, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and his length reaching impossible centers within your cunt was sending you dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, Leorio, I need it, I need you, please-”

“Fuck, baby, I’m c-coming, where d’you- where do you want it-”

“Inside, inside-” you gasped without thinking, and he buried his cock inside you one last time, groaning as thick spurts of white painted your walls. The feeling of his cum inside you sent you over the edge, arching your back and sending your eyes rolling back into your skull as your orgasm racked your body, fireworks of pleasure radiating through each appendage. You gripped his damp hair for purchase as you rode out your climax, and he huffed against your throat, arm muscles rippling as their strength faded.

Both of you panted as you came down from your respective highs. Rolling off you, Leorio collapsed at your side, hands trailing over your heaving chest.

With a puff of laughter, you turned your head to meet his eyes, now droopy and satisfied as they gazed into yours.

You grinned softly. “I should forget my keys over here more often.”

[slowpoke-fics]

Appreciated

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: softish!dom!Steve x Reader, former Natasha x Steve, former Thor x Reader

Summary: The team make a bet that you have to settle, sending Steve into a sexual frenzy.

Warnings: alcohol, sexual themes, pet names, Dom!Steve, slapping, rough sex, soft sex, overstimulation, pleasure Dom, use of traffic light safe words, fluff, smut, choking, crying but in an I love you way, still crying kink, subspace, little bit o’ cockwarming, I know I've missed some, so please read at your own risk 18+

A/N: I really enjoyed the lovey dovey vibes I got from this, I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it; 4.1k words

You’re surrounded by the team in the common room, all of you with a glass of Asgardian liquor in your hand. It’s a rare time that you all get to sit around and relax, just talk to each other like people. You’re all laughing because somehow you’ve gotten to Thor vs Steve, who was more worthy. Everyone is a little intoxicated, none more so than Sam, who is leaning against Bucky, poking the bear. “I would lay a hundred down to say Thor’s got it hung,” Sam hiccups, “I mean, the man radiates big dick energy.”

Natasha laughs, hiding her face under Clint’s arm for a moment before joining Sam, “You’re wrong big bird,” clicking her tongue at Steve, “our super soldier is swinging, uncomfortably so.” Thor shakes his head, glancing at you, then quickly noting you’re hiding behind Steve, sure of where this was going. Tony hisses at the conversation, “I’m offended I’m not even in the race.” That causes Bucky to break out into laughter, shaking his head, “Stark, you aren’t even on the leaderboard.” The group erupts into laughter, Tony shaking his head when Pepper whispers something in his ear, a blush rising to his cheeks as his shifts in his seat.

You smirk at Tony, but you are no longer able to ignore the bickering between Sam and Natasha. “I’ve had personal experience, you ever seen Thor, Sam?” Sam rolls his eyes, grinning with teeth, “The man’s massive, Nat, his weapon is a hammer, you ever understand innuendos?” Wanda and Peter can’t control their laughter anymore, and Steve’s hand grips your thigh roughly when you nip at his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell them?” Steve whispers in your ear, nipping just under your neck. You shake your head and blush moving your head away from him. He rubs your thigh gently turning back to the conversation. He wasn’t going to push, of course he wasn’t, he loves you and wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

The rest of them though? Too drunk to care.

Wanda is the first one to speak up, after her heavy laughter stops, “Y/n,” your head is snapping up to hers, “you have personal experience with both of them, why don’t you enlighten us?” You laugh and shake your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying.

Thor hums in appreciation, reminiscing on the days when you two were bed buddies, “Ah yes, little lamb, why don’t you tell them how good I am?” You gasp, the outright disrespect Thor throws at Steve to call you a name reserved for only when you were under him and the insinuation that he knew how to please you better than Steve made your blood boil at his cockiness. The alcohol poisoning your liver made you laugh at the situation though, because nobody is ever going to compare to Steve. Unable to catch your breath for a minute, Nat and Sam boast out, “Oh yes, enlighten us on the most worthy member,” and “Y/n/n, Thor’s a god, I know you’re with Steve now, but be honest.”

You snap your head at Sam, squinting your eyes, a challenge. You turn to Natasha with an apologetic look, causing the circle to break out in little giggles, ooo’s and ahh’s. Steve’s smirking because he knows you, studies you in his spare time, knows this joke. “Oh, Nat, I’m sorry,” the group breaks out into laughter and you raise your voice with a 180, now dripping with pride instead of regret, “for the two hundred bucks Sam just lost!” Steve grips your thigh again as you rub your fingers together towards Sam, “Pay up, because my Stevie,” you learn forward as the circle drops to a pen drop silence, “he’s a god himself.”

The entire group hoops and hollers, Thor shaking his head with a sip on his drink, hoping you were just talking up your man for brownie points. Nat raises her arms and let’s put a happy scream, “Oh, suck on that, big bird!” Sam’s gaping at you, he huffs and pulls out his wallet, slamming a hundred in your hand then Nat’s outstretched one. You laugh, slamming back onto Steve, pressing your lips into his. He twists his hand to the side of your face, pressing you into him. Tony groans and kicks Steve’s leg, “Put it on ice, Capsicle.” Before you could back away from Steve, he growls in your ear, “Good girl.”

Steve’s throbbing, you can see it. See how hard he is through his pants, see his cock twitching. You know that when you get to your bedroom, you’re going to get exactly what you want. He’s so distracted by you, by the way you openly claimed him in front of everyone. You were his good girl, and he couldn’t wait to show you. So once Tony and Pepper announce their goodbyes, you and Steve are quick to follow, dismissing yourselves and stumbling off to the elevator.

You’re giggling and leaning on Steve, as soon as you’re out of eye line of the other members, he picks you up over his shoulder. You let out a small yelp and shake a little, “Stevie, let me go!” He laughs and playfully slaps your ass, “No, dove,” he whispers, “not in a million years.”

When you step onto the elevator, he unclips your left shoe, “You know what you do to me?” He slides it off, holding it by a strap on his pinky, “Blind me with your energy,” he unclips the right shoe as the elevator opens, “take my breath away with your touch,” he slides the shoe off to hang it next to it’s match. You’re rubbing his back with one hand, your other peaking through his waistband on his hip. You’re intoxicated by his praise more than you could ever be by alcohol.

He’s carrying you down the hall towards your room, curling the hand that’s holding your shoes around your ass, holding you and your dress in place. "Bring me back from the edge," his free hand grabs the zipper on the back of your dress and pulls roughly, opening your dress in one tug. He quickly opens the door to your bedroom and drops you to the bed after dropping the shoes.

You bounce when you hit the bed causing you to laugh, your head tilted back. Steve’s committing every movement you make to memory, his heart fluttering when your chest bounces with your giggles. He knocks the door shut with a kick as he unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He crawls over your middle, smiling gently at you. "Gonna thank you for everything you do," his fingertips tickle your arms as he slides the straps off of you, you pull your arms through reaching up to trace his muscles. He lifts you easily and tosses you, your head landing gently on the pillows at the headboard.

He tosses your empty dress to the floor, unbuckling his belt with a heated glare toward your naked body, “My my, you are really something.” He rips the belt off, snapping it through the air, your eyes light up with a dare. “Gonna cherish you,” he crawls towards you, grabbing your wrists and putting them against the wooden poles. “You say I am a god,” he wraps your hands up, “then you honey,” he tugs on your secured wrist and slides down your body, “are my goddess.” He pulls your legs down, extending your arms and restricting your movement.

You moan at the roughness of his love, his praise soaking your thighs. His eyes are staring you down, he’s continuing to slither down the bed. He’s kissing and nibbling on your nipples. Your wrists pull hard when you arch and his hard gaze breaks, “Too tight?” You shake your head, but he slaps the outside of your thigh, “You know better dove.” You stretch out your legs, exposing your soaking cunt to him, “No, sir, it’s not too tight, please.” Steve traces the inside of your thigh, “Don’t worry dovey,” he clicks at you, “tonight’s all about you,” he presses his hands on your thighs, pushing you apart, “I know how good you are,” he slides his tongue on your wet thigh, “just wanna make sure you do.”

He hums as his tongue licks up your folds, collecting some of the juices, “You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.” You moan out, bucking your hips towards him, “Captain please, need you to make me feel good.” Steve wastes no time giving you want you want. He slides two fingers into you, drawing a pained gasp from you that quickly turns into a moan. “Oh, baby,” Steve sucks on your clit, licking tight circles before drawing back a little, your hands tugging the best they could, “who’s all this for?”

You’re heaving, Steve’s fingers curling inside of your willing hole, his lips are back on you. When you don’t give him an answer, he stops toying with your clit, causing the heat in you to die down, a whine erupting from you. He licks up your folds, his fingers never slowing, “Tell me, who’s it for.” You spread your fingers out, trying to twist your body but slid another finer in you roughly. You let out a pornographic moan, clenching on his fingers, “You, you Steve, you,” his hand slides back down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles, “always you, love of my life, always my Stevie.” Steve growls, “Cum, now.”

The coil in you snaps, your back arching off the bed as your pussy flutters around his relentless fingers. He removes his hand from your clit, pulling his pants and underwear down roughly, sliding them off and out of the way. You’re coming down from your high when he’s on top of you, fingers pumping hard and fast again. You’re on fire, eyes roaming his body and your arms twitch at the need to touch him.

You’re whining trying to back up, but his thrusts become temporarily rough, shooting pleasurable pain through you, “Don’t run, be a good girl.” You let a choked sob out, your cunt clenching tightly on his fingers. He knows you’re close, your legs tight, and shaking, your whines higher, “You’re beautiful cunt’s desperate isn’t it love?” You tighten at his words, so close to tipping over the edge. When you don’t answer he slows down, causing your eyes to snap open, he pulls your legs up to your chest, “Yes, yes, desperate for you, I’ll do anything, I promise, please!”

Steve removes his fingers from you roughly, grabbing your thighs, pushing them apart to display your cunt and slams himself into you. He’s buried balls deep, twitching against your cunt. He lets you rest a moment as he readjusts, one arm holding both your legs in place, his free right hand finding your clit, “You’re gonna cum like this.” He slams back into you, and as if commanded, you fall apart on him. You let out a silent scream, clenching his cock as hard as you can, your eyes rolling back in the back of your head, clit throbbing as he continues to rub circles.

“Your pussy is suffocating my cock baby,” he leans down to kiss you, swallowing your whines at the painful stretch in the back of your thighs. “Good girl, such a good girl,” your back arches toward him, coming down from your high, thankful that his ministrations on your clit have slowed, “You lost with my cock pounding into you? Are you with me sweet girl?”

You can’t answer, can’t hardly breathe, because he’s started pumping in and out of you with more of his weight pressing into you, taking your breath with almost every thrust. Your eyes are closed, your mouth barely open and it’s clear you’re unable to answer. Steve reaches his hand up, taking it off your clit, and smacks your face, gently but hard enough to snap you back to him. He squeezes your chin, roughly moving your face to the left and then right. “Color?” You take a deep breath, causing him to slowly stop ramming into you. He slides his thumb into your mouth, keeping eye contact with you. Your tongue licks up his thumb, your lips closing around it. He instantly softens, his dominating features fading away, “Come on, tell your Stevie how you’re doin’, what’s your color dovey?”

You release his thumb, smiling at him, “‘S green, Stevie, I jus’ needed a breather.” Steve pouts at you, grabbing your chin and shaking your head with a disappointed look, “Nuh uh. Say it right, pet.” You flutter around his cock, causing him to pulse inside you and let out a deep groan. “Green, sir, please, need your cock, fills me up so good,” you’re begging, arching your back off the bed. He straightens, hands on the back of your thighs bracing himself. He pulls out and rams into you at a brutal pace, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You moan out, trying to twist away from him, but you can’t hardly move, stuck in his grasp, his huge cock filling you again and again. He knows you’re close, slapping your thigh a couple times, heavy smacks resonating through the room before he reminds you, “Look at me.” You follow his command, your eyes snapping to his. “You’re going to cum again,” he slaps your thigh, “quit trying to run away bunny.” You can’t control yourself, you gush all over his cock when his hand hits your thigh, flutter around him and moaning out, “Thank you sir, never felt so good, thank you.” Steve doesn’t slow down, he grips your thighs roughly and seems like he’s going harder, deeper.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel as good as I do,” you whine loudly at his words, tears leaving the corners of your eyes. He grunts and you feel his rhythm stutter, “God yeah, made for me, isn’t anything better than you in my life,” his hand comes to your clit as he turns your body, bringing your leg over his shoulder. You’re overwhelmed by his love, even though he’s fucking you stupid, you can feel that he’s genuine in his words. This man loves you.

“God Stevie, I’m ruined, consumed by you, don’t want anyone else,” you tug on your restraints again, glancing up with tears in your eyes. He brings his other hand up to your face, letting your leg fall free, “Give me one more baby,” he ruts inside you, heat burning at your core, feeling you clench around him makes him let out a deep moan. He moves his hand to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and pulling roughly on it. You let out a pained moan, Steve slapping your breast, “Yeah that’s it sweetheart. Gonna be my perfect little girl and take everything I give you.”

You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy, he’s pounding into you but you’re so fucked out and wet it’s easy for him to abuse your cunt. He’s addicted to the way your pussy sucks him back in, his resolve almost breaking and spilling into you. “I’ll take whatever my Captain is willing to give me,” you’re barely able to think about anything else, eyes open just barely enough to see Steve’s head roll back. He lets out a loud and shameless moan, he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing roughly. “Be a good girl, be a good girl, cum, cum right now.”

Your walls throb and he lets go of your throat. Your vision goes white when you take your breath and you’re cumming around him. He sucks in a harsh breath, barely able to move in and out of you because of how frantic you’ve become. “You make it so hard to control myself around you,” he pulls completely out and you watch his cock twitch in the air, red and sore, the thick vein throbbing hard. You whine, but he swallows it when he presses his lips to yours. Reaching his hands up and releasing you from the belt, he bites your bottom lip, “Can you take more baby? What’s your color?” Your pull your hands from his, wrapping them around his neck, “I can’t take anymore, Captain, I can’t.” Steve’s glare is dangerous, his voice controlled by his primal need for you, “I’m gonna give you more, until I’m satisfied or you tap out. What’s your color?” You let a stray tear fall, “Yellow, I need a minute, pretty please, Captain.”

Steve hums in agreement, pressing his lips against yours. He backs just an inch or so away and rests his forehead against yours. Steve guides your legs down and lays you on the bed gently. He’s giving himself as much a break as he is you, he’s not sure that if he slid into your cunt he wouldn’t cum right then and there.

“You know how good your doin’ for me?” His nose nudges yours, “Really made for me,” he kisses your nose, “love making you feel good, am I making you feel good?” You bring your lips to his, initiating the contact this time, “Yes Stevie, I feel so good, ‘s like you set me on fire.”

Your gaze is still far away, barely able to hold your head up. You’re almost cockdrunk, and he’s going to get you all the way there. “Look at me angel,” he’s kneeling in between your legs, watching your every breath. Your head lifts to his, meeting his sly grin. “There she is,” he slides his hands under your thighs gently, lifting your hips for a better angle. “You ready baby?”

Your legs are putty in his hand and he pushes into you slowly, your mouth gapes at the sensation, letting out a small plea, “Oh, Captain, more, more, more.” He speeds up, leaning forward and planting kisses on your neck, whispering against it as he digs his fingers into your hips, “That’s right,” he punctuates with a rough thrust, “good girls beg for more.” He’s lost himself, roughly jerking your hips into him, sucking possessive marks into your neck and collarbone. “Good girls let their Captain decide when they’ve had enough.” Your hands are scratching at his back, a silent please for him to keep going.

“You’re so good to me,” he bites your neck roughly, hips stuttering against yours, his mounds hitting yours just right. “Love me so good,” he’s kissing your jawline, he’s close to coming, and he’s not going to stop this time. He plants a heavy kiss on your lips, “You’re gonna be my wife one day,” your lips find his again, a tear rolling down your cheek, “the mother of my children.” Your hands pull on his hair gently, “Please, cum in me, wanna be a mommy, cum with me.” When you pull on his hair he spills inside of you, pushing you over the edge with him.

Steve sees a piece in you snap, your eyes glaze over, the breath taken from your body. You’re numb, all you can feel is the thump in your chest and the painful stretch of your back, pushed too far past its limit. He’s crushing you with kisses, his hands moving to your hair while he gently thrusts inside you, “Breathe,” his voice calls out to you, “breathe baby.” You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes and finding any part of his skin to touch. You feel so vulnerable, so small, so overwhelmed and overstimulated.

When your high ends, he flips you over so you’re straddling him. You jerk away from him when his softened cock slides back into you, but he just pulls you to his chest, rubbing your back gently. “Good girl, I am so proud of you dove.” Your lip wobbles, shoulders starting to shake. Steve coos at you, “Oh baby, let it out, it’s okay, I’m so proud.” At his words the tears fall freely and your hand clenches around his bicep. “Did that feel so good? Hm? Did your Captain do this to you?” You nuzzle into his neck, hiccuping sobs, Steve’s voice dripping with honey, “Oh my sweet girl,” he starts patting your back, “that’s okay. You can’t think can you? So hard to come back down from your Captain breaking you.” You only let out a silent sob, squeezing his cock with your cunt unintentionally.

“This is what you needed isn’t it? Needed me to make you feel good, needed me to break you and put the pieces back together?” Steve’s rock hard in you again, pressing against your g-spot and slowly rolling his hips. “What’s your color?” You sniffle, Steve waits patiently for you, he’s going to be soft, wants you to have one more. “C-can,” you take a deep breath, “can it be just like this? I love the way you love me.” Steve kisses you softly, his fingers running through your hair, “Of course baby, what’s your color?” You lay your head on his shoulder, “Green, please take care of me.” He finds your clit with his right hand, his left grabbing the back of your neck, clenching to announce his presence, “That’s all I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You let out more tears when he says that, your hands clutching at his waist tightly. Steve’s thumb rubs fast but gentle circles on your clit, your hips involuntarily shaking. “Stevie,” you beg, he kisses your jawline, letting out a questionable hum, “I love you so much, you make me feel so good,” he pushes his hips deeper into you, a sign that he agrees with you. You dig your nails into his sides, indentations would be visible to anyone able to see, cunt letting out another wave of cum around his cock. “I mean it Stevie, you make me feel special,” you clench your eyes when he gets rougher on your clit. “There is nobody on this planet that I will ever want more than you,” you lean up and kiss his lips to seal your words. “I can’t live without you,” you kiss him again, returning the praise he’s given you all night.

Steve can’t control himself, he’s going to cum again, your compliments are tightening his balls, almost bursting. “Would be lost,” you let a loud moan out and move your hands back to his hair, “would be lost forever without you.” Steve starts thrusting harder, barely increasing in speed, still feeling your pussy respond to his treatment. He growls before kissing you, biting at your lips and commanding, “Cum, you can do it, cum for your Stevie.” You do, your lips meeting his and grinding against one another. Your hips are spasming against his hand, desperate for your high to last as long as it can. You feel him shoot his cum inside you for the second time and you flex your walls to milk his cock, his breath heavy as he presses into you.

He rests you back against his chest, a featherlight touch on your back. Both of you are breathing heavy, and your tears are silently falling. You love him so much, words couldn’t describe it. The way he makes you feel absolutely ethereal, like you’re floating amongst the stars. You're lost amount them right now, drifting about. He knows this, it’s why he lets you sit on his cock for as long as you want. The closest you could possibly get to him, laying on his chest, his gentle touch bringing you back down to earth.

After about fifteen minutes, your tears stop. Your mouth is dry, voice hoarse when you speak out, “I love you so much.” Steve kisses your head, “You don’t know the half of it. You’re perfect, there isn’t a damn thing about you that I don’t love.” Heat flushes to your cheeks, hiding your face as best you can, “Even though I cry during sex?” Steve lets out an irritated scoff, “You know how hard it makes me when I make you cry? To know that I’ve made you feel so much that you’re crying? And you’re still begging for me to give you more?” You trace your fingers up Steve’s arm, smiling contently, “I wish you could understand what it’s like.” He pulls you off his cock slowly, lifting you as he suggests, “Maybe you can explain it while we take a bath and clean up?” Your head turns and you kiss his cheek, “Of course. If you’re actually interested.”

He bends with you, holding you tightly with one hand, and you realize you’ve already made it to the bathroom. “I want to know everything about you,” he steps into the tub, bringing both of you into the quickly rising water. “So tell me,” he turns your body so your back is laying on his chest in the oversized tub, “When you fall? Where do you go?”

[nightwishesworld]

Life of Death

You’re gonna need tissues for this one folks! A huge thank you to @addictedtodinosaurs for allowing me to write this wonderful headcannon! Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: Angst. Whole lot of angst 

It hasn’t even been a day since Alcina’s world collapsed. Ethan Winters managed to flee Castle Dimitrescu with his life and topple the hierarchy Mother Miranda worked so hard to achieve. Everyone is gone; Angie, Moreau's house, Mother Miranda, even her baby brother Karl. They never stood a chance after the fall of the great Mother Miranda. Without her protection, they were left helpless. Of course, Ethan only saw them all as monsters; filthy bloodthirsty creatures that needed to be slain. That’s all anyone ever saw them as. They’re different so that must mean they’re wrong. They’re abnormally different from anything I’d ever seen so that automatically means they’re evil.

But they’re still a family. Lucky for Alcina, she never let herself depend on anyone other than herself. Well, except for her daughters.

She was wandering around the ruins of the castle in search of them. They were nowhere to be found since Ethan escaped. It was a grueling task but obviously, one that needed to be done. They need their mother’s tender love and care to nurse them back to health.

Cassandra was the first to be found. Naturally, she was found within the comfort of her basement. Where else would that silly girl be hiding? Just like Daniela, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds. Alcina carried her upstairs to her bedroom slowly and carefully to not make her feel any sicker to her stomach. From there she bathed her and wrapped whatever wounds she had in delicate cloth before putting her to rest in her bed. Alcina tousled her wet hair before leaving in search of the rest of her brood.

Daniela was the easiest to find. She was left lying face down in the parlor soaked in a pool of her own blood. Her body was riddled with bullet holes to the point where her abdomen resembled Swiss Cheese. Alcina was quick to scoop her up and bring her upstairs to tend to her wounds. Until she got Daniela in the bath she used the ends of her dress to put pressure on her abdomen. Just like Cassandra, her bleeding seemed to have majorly stopped on its own. So all that was left for Alcina to do was bathe her and bandage her wounds.

Picking each individual bullet out of her body was an uphill battle, but Alcina was the eventual victor. Even better, she managed to not disturb her youngest’s slumber as she patched her up. Daniela was now free to rest as much as she needed in the sanctuary of her mother’s bed.

“What a mess we’re left with, hm? Don’t you worry about a thing my little Tasmanian Devil, Mother’s here now. I’ll protect you.”

The girls remained motionless as Alcina tucked Daniela in next to her sister.

Alcina watched as her little bundles of joy rested comfortably under the warm blankets and plush pillows. They look so sweet and at peace. It was rare for the matriarch to see them like this, but it always brought a smile to her face.

“You just rest now, my lovelies. I’m going to go find your sister so she can rest easy as well.” Alcina bends down and kisses each daughter on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

It took a few hours of searching to find her eldest daughter. Doing countless laps around the castle finally brought Alcina to explore the labyrinth of hidden passageways. There were a few times when said passageways brought her right back up to her bedroom. She wasn’t complaining too much though. Every time it happened she simply checked on her girls and reminded them how much she loves them.

Bela was by far the hardest to find. The sounds of scurrying behind a row of bookcases alerted Alcina to her presence. Following a single passageway eventually led Alcina to find the blonde buried from the chest down in rubble. The tunnel had collapsed from then on.

Alcina made quick work of removing the rock and rubble from her daughter's body. Rats fled back into their holes as she did so. The eldest Dimitrescu never moved even an inch. It took a while, but Alcina did manage to get her out in one piece. She whispered promises of a warm bath and offered to deep clean the dirt and dust out of her hair.

Bela couldn’t respond but Alcina knew she heard her. She could still sense her. She could sense all of them. They’re just weak, that’s all. They need as much rest as they can get.

It’s late evening by the time all three girls are bathed and tucked into bed. They were dressed in clean clothes and had their bandages changed again before Alcina crawled carefully into bed with them. She made sure to be extra careful when nudging them out of the way so she was in the middle; Bela on one side and Cassandra and Daniela on the other. Her arms wrapped around them all snugly.

It reminds Alcina of all the times the girls would burst into her room when they were little during a thunderstorm. All four of them would cuddle up just like this under the covers and either sing to them or read them a story.

“Tomorrow is a new day, my loves. We will start anew and we’ll be stronger than ever. I hope you sleep peacefully.”

The next morning comes slowly for Alcina. It’s quiet for once as the girls aren’t awake to cause mischief. Aching in her back and arms keeps her from stretching out. She smiled when she feels the girls are still snuggled up close to her.

“Good morning my darlings,” she says with a yawn. “How are we feeling today?”

Alcina kisses each daughter on the cheek and chooses not to notice how much more pale they were this morning. And certainly doesn’t recognize how stiff they were. She simply chalks it up to sleeping uncomfortably. After all, even she woke up with an aching back. Her arms wrapped around them must have really bothered them.

“It’s alright, girls. Take all the time you need to recover. You’ve been through quite the ordeal and need as much rest as you can get. I understand that. Mommy will be waiting for you right here to wake up. I’ll be the first thing you see when you open your bleary little eyes.”

The family lounged for the better half of the morning. Alcina takes her time stroking the hair of each of her girls’ hair and whispers words of comfort to them. “You’re so brave, my loves. And so strong; stronger than Mommy could ever hope to be.”

She notices a rather putrid smell coming from Daniela. One not caused by uncleanliness or a rotten meal, but something else entirely. Her immediate response is to change her bandages again, but can’t help but notice how pale Daniela had become overnight. Her lips were turning a shade of blue and the rest of her skin looked sickly. So did Cassandra and Daniela. Perhaps this is worse than simply recovering from injuries? Maybe....maybe they really were-

Alcina shook her head. They’ll wake up. Of course, they’ll wake up! They just need to rest extra long before they can really start to recover. So what if they get worse before they get better? At the end of the day, all that matters is that they do wake up. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.

The silence is suffocating. She feels the chill in her blood, coldness bringing the synapses of her brain to a standstill. Part of it is a pain, but one Alcina can endure. One she has to endure; for the sake of her daughters.

While she waited, Alcina called for a maid, the only one left, to fetch some documents from her private study that needed her attention.

They didn’t actually need her attention, of course. With the demise of Mother Miranda, the document's importance was nullified. But Alcina Dimitrescu is not the type of person to just sit around and do nothing. Especially when there are so many important things to do.

As soon as the maid steps into the room she understands what’s happening. She went through something strikingly similar when she had her miscarriage some years ago. Reality is a cruel plane of existence. Especially when you lose someone you loved suffering it with. It’s plain to see that her mistress is grieving her losses and she doesn’t have the heart to break whatever fantasies Lady Dimitrescu has built-in her head.

Instead, she chooses to play along. Delusional or not this was still Lady Dimitrescu, the woman will kill her if she tells her anything other than what she wants to hear. She gives a kind smile and curtsy to her Mistress and simply dies as she’s asked.

“Shall I fetch you some wine, My Lady?”

Alcina thought about it for a moment. It has been over 24 hours since she last fed and she was certainly craving sustenance. But ultimately decides against it in favor of her daughters.

“No. Keep what we have left safe for when my daughters wake. They’ll need their strength more than I’ll need mine.”

The maid waits a minute before trying again. She looks over at the girls still laying in bed. It’s obvious they are no longer there. She could smell the evidence of that from across the room.

“Very well, Lady Dimitrescu. I could send up a platter of-“

“Enough,” Alcina shouts but quickly catches herself from continuing. The girls don’t need to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. “Go make yourself useful and clean my daughters’ rooms. They’ll want them spotless when they wake up.”

The maid simply bows her head. “Of course, my Lady. Please forgive me.”

The next two weeks went on like this before the maid had enough. She wanted to help her mistress, she truly did, but there was nothing left for her here anymore. The last scraps of human food were officially gone and there was no reason to trek down to the village and come all the way back when she could just as easily take up residence down there. It was a gut-wrenching decision but it had to be done. She tried her best for Lady Dimitrescu and that’s all that mattered.

She slipped away in the dead of night. Normally the Lady would have any escapees hunted down and dragged back up to the castle only to be thrown in the basement. But there was no one to do that anymore. Heisenberg and his pack of lycans had perished long ago, even before the Lady’s daughters, and the Lady was too drained of emotions to care. Too weak to chase after her.

Alcina’s daughters are her everything. Every day she lived for them. She lived because of them.

Alcina took great pride in her tall stature. She is the image of beauty and elegance. The only real flaw in her design is its role in hunting down prey. You’d have to be blind or stupid to not see her coming after you. Even with her much larger strides, she wouldn’t be able to keep up. And Alcina Dimitrescu does not run. Prey is not worth running for.

So she depends on her daughters to hunt for her. They’re much more suited for the job; so young, and clever, and agile. They are her cubs and her, their lioness, too old to keep up with the hunting party.

Alcina looks at her girls and sees them as they truly are; dead. Lifeless corpses. Their bodies are decaying and cold. She has been changing the bed sheets every morning to keep away the maggots but failed to stop all of them. The smell of death is noxious even with all the windows open because Bela said she wanted to feel the crisp winter breeze.

“My girls,” Alcina sobs. “What have I done to you?”

She collapses at their bedside and finally allows herself to break down.

But looking up at them she still feels them. She can still feel their arms wrap around her shoulders as she cries. The smell of paint is still on Cassandra’s cloak and Daniela was sitting on the floor right next to her. The short ends of red hair tickled Alcina’s cheek. If they were truly gone, how is it she can still feel Bela kiss the top of her head and wrap her arms around her neck in an embrace?

“I never should have done this. How can I be so selfish? I never should have turned you to suffer as I have.” A new wave of tears blurred her vision. “What kind of mother am I?”

She knows she doesn’t have long now. How can she bring herself to care? Everyone she ever cared about was already gone. What’s the point of trying to survive without her dearest family, especially when she’s so close to being reunited. Alcina wiggles her way back under the covers and pulls her daughters close once more. She’s crying in earnest now, happy that her pain is almost over. Even now she can see her daughters playing together, maybe even with Uncle Karl somewhere in the far off distance.

A smile spreads to Alcina’s lips as she closes her eyes and simply waits for her turn to join in on the fun.

[ghoultramp]

study buddies [sukuna x reader] {req}

▷       jjk

↳ pairing: sukuna x f!reader

↳ content: { request fic } - dom!sukuna, subby!reader, curvy&soft!reader, college!au, dubcon, choking, spitting, marking (biting, scratching), dacryphilia, degradation (?), breath play (?),  a sprinkle of praise (as a treat), nicknames for reader (princess, babygirl)

↳ words: 4.7k

⇢ summary: sukuna’s a little fed up of yuji having you all the fun with you, so when yuji suggests you should take a break from studying, sukuna decides it’s the perfect opportunity to have a taste of yuji’s little princess.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: request for nemi; i’m so sorry it took so long to get around to this but i hope this makes up for the wait! a huge thank you for being my partner in crime on this and for some of the fantastic ideas you shared.

Yuji had been grumbling at his textbook for the better part of ten minutes before you peered over the top of yours. While he lay chest down on the floor, your legs were lazily propped over the small of his back. Your own back was supported by a pillow against your bed frame, comfortable enough, but you were starting to ache. Yuji wittered beneath his breath, he looked sweet when he tried to concentrate; his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, but it was the way his tongue poked over his top lip that made you giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, “this is hard.”

You cleared your throat as you closed your book, placing it on your lap.

“Which question is it now?” you asked, lifting your legs off him.

He grumbled incoherently, flipping the same page back and forth. You shook your head and shuffled next to him, straightening out your skirt as you brought your knees together to retain some modicum of decency. You leaned your weight against your left hand and softly patted Yuji’s head with the other.

“Uhm,” he mumbled, “still on the first one…?”

“Yuji-Kun,” you sighed, “have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

He looked at you through his peripheral vision while his mouth fought against a nervous smirk. You playfully tapped him against the side of the head. Yuji feigned injury, holding his head and rolling onto his back; you were trying so hard not to laugh as he rolled about, wailing dramatically.

“You’re such a baby,” you told him, throwing the textbook to the side.

You watched as he stopped and spread his limbs out like a starfish, he turned his head in your direction.

“Says the little Princess,” he retorted, he flashed a grin when your cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

He loved rendering your speechless with the utterance of a single word. To everyone on the outside, you and Yuji were this cute, Hallmark-movie, high-school sweetheart-type couple, barely even kissed, blushing at the sweet whispers you exchanged; how wrong they were.

Those sweet whispers that made you blush wildly were due to Yuji sharing with you his demands for you that evening—because you would always be his good Babygirl, his good little Princess. They would never see him grope you beneath the lecture hall desks, purposefully dragging you to the back. He’d ignore you as you cried into the sleeve of your sweater while his fingers fiddled with your sensitive little bud behind your underwear.

He rolled onto his side to prop his head up with his hand, you brought your hands up to cover your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” he was trying not to laugh, finding your bashfulness absurdly loveable, “why don’t we take a break?”

A squeak escaped through the fingers of the hand that covered your mouth. Yuji awkwardly shifted onto his hands and knees, crawling toward you. When he sat up next to you, he swung his legs around to place them on either side of you; trapping you between him and the bed frame.

“Now who’s the baby?” he cooed, teasing you more by poking your hands playfully.

He laughed at your attempt to look annoyed, it was wasted. You resigned, watching as he began to lean into you, his hand pressed against the back of your head and his lips brushed against your ear.

“Or should I say,” his whisper was a low growl, “Babygirl?”

 “Yuuuuuji,” you were whining as you squirmed between his legs, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

The warm breath expelled by his chuckle brushed against your neck. You felt the grip he held on the back of your head fall to your wrists, you didn’t fight him as he pulled your hands from your face. You knew he got off on how bashful you always were, and maybe you played into that a little, he felt the hot flush of your cheeks radiate against him.

He could devour you so easily.

You felt a thumb press hard against your chin, pushing your head right back. A pitiful laboured noise escaped your mouth, now pushing his palm against your throat. It wasn’t quite enough pressure to stop you from breathing, but enough to cause you discomfort. Enough to satisfy him. For the moment, at least.

“…ji,” you were fortunate enough to be able to squeeze the last syllable of his name.

Using his free hand, he kneaded at the delicious pudge of skin that poked out above your slightly-too-tight thigh-high socks. They were just a part of one of your many little uniforms reserved only for Yuji, and today was one of his favourites; a just-tight-enough shirt opened enough for your delicate, frilly lingerie—of his choosing, of course—to peek out, paired with a simple, pleated skirt.

You were ever so grateful when he lightened the pressure on your larynx, allowing you to urgently drag in a deep breath. But it was mere seconds before you were gasping and panting, succumbing to his will as his fingers pressed gently against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Finally,” you heard him say, the lowered tone of his voice triggered your flight response.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered.

“Yuji’s not home right now, Princess,” he declared, “it’s not fair that he gets to have all the fun anyway.”

“Su-Sukuna, please,” you whined, tilting your pelvis back in an attempt to escape his roaming fingers, he only pressed against you harder.

“Why don’t you let me take you for a ride, babygirl,” as he said it, he dragged his finger downward, following your sweet, little slit beneath your underwear.

“You p-promised you wouldn’t,” if it wasn’t for the fact that Sukuna was so close to you, he never would have heard your feeble pleas.

“We all promise things we don’t really mean,” he groaned, removing his hand on your throat.

Sukuna smirked all the while you gasped for air—once again—and then whimpered, the focus in your sight made everything soft, your head felt full of cotton wool. Sukuna sniggered, the dumb, heavy-lidded look on your pretty, little face was nothing less than perfection. He pressed his fingers a slightly bit harder against your clit, inhaling sharply when he pulled strangled little mewls from behind your slightly parted lips.

Sukuna was more than a little fond of Yuji’s choice of mate, he’d been waiting far too long for this opportunity and he wasn’t going to squander it.

He was going to savour every moment.

“Let’s see,” Sukuna contemplated, relieving your clit of his fingers. He’d want you to beg for it, prove just how much of a needy little whore you really were; he’d have you screaming his name soon enough.

You whined at him as his hands crept along the outsides of your thighs, under your skirt, grabbing hold of your shapely hips. He ignored your cries while he pulled you toward him, your skirt now ruched above your waist.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jostling you with some force when you didn’t move quick enough for him.

From your position—your head now propped where your back had been, Sukuna suspending your arse with his large hands—you could almost pretend that it was still Yuji. It was still his body after all, right? Your eyes passed over the dark lines that only Sukuna had—you always thought they looked like tattoos—and the closed, second set of eyes. Those eyes unnerved you, scared you. You dropped your gaze.

You didn’t ever think you’d have to face this situation, Yuji had reassured you time and time again that he had control of Sukuna, that he wouldn’t be able to take over when things got hot and heavy between the both of you. Now, you supposed Sukuna had lied about being compliant the entire time.

Sukuna continued, “I demand a taste of this—“ he yanked your underwear down your thighs, pulling a little too hard on the waistband, “—sweet fucking cunny.”

Dumbfounded, you were only able to watch him with curious, wide eyes as he moved your legs to benefit him while he struggled to remove your underwear. He was clearly getting impatient, throwing your soaked underwear over his head and across the other side of the room.

Sukuna let out a long, deep moan, as he shuffled himself back. He brought your legs down, pressing his muscular upper-arms against the back of your thighs; this was his way of stabilising you while having both of his hands free.

With his biceps pushing into your thighs, you yelped as your neck was forced into an uncomfortable position. The top of your head pressed against the base of the bed while your ear squashed into your shoulder; you scrambled to hoist yourself up, pushing your palms against the floor.

“Ah-ah,” he growled, yanking you down by the hips.

Sukuna mumbled something, you may not have been able to hear it, but your widely spread cunt certainly felt him say something. He brought the index finger of his right hand up to hover just out of reach of your presenting hole; raising his gaze to catch you looking at him--your chest heaving with your gulping breaths, your eyes almost entirely closed, with your tongue gently lolled out over your bottom lip--he certainly hadn’t expected you to submit to him like this so easily.

“I can see why Yuji likes you,” Sukuna mused, you gasped loudly when his thick finger penetrated you for the first time, “a needy little bitch in heat, like you?”

He let out a satisfied groan as you convulsed against him, nowhere for you to go as he twisted his finger, left to right and back again, fucking you with little care as his thrusts became almost violent. You cried out when he began to hit his palm quite forcefully against your clit with each thrust of his finger; Sukuna’s dark eyes glared up at you, his thick brows pulling together in the middle of his brow while he snarled at you.

You really were trapped.

“I happen to know you like it rough,” he was smirking, the loud, wet sound that came from between your legs as he removed his finger with a yank make you shrink beneath him.

“But, let’s get one thing straight,” he continued, moaning while he sucked at your sweet juices that soaked his finger, “your little Yuji-Kun won’t ever compare to a demon,” Sukuna watched the panic set in your eyes, felt your thighs shaking against his arms as he angled you up.

“It’ll be so delightful and easy, making you teeter on that edge,” he snarled, “between pain and pleasure until I see fit.”

You yelped uncomfortably when the pad of his heavy thumb pressed into your clit; you heard him chuckle above your cries, pressing against it harder. Sukuna pursed his lips against your inner thigh. You felt his smirk against your skin when his thumb quickly shifted from your clit to your hole; it was without warning, your slick allowing him to pull in and out with ease. But the intrusion made you shudder, followed closely by an uncontainable wail.

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, talking into your thigh, “you’re going to make over-stimming you so much fucking fun.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” it was a pitiful attempt at finding your voice.

Sukuna either couldn’t hear you or at the very least, he didn’t want to hear you. He dragged his tongue along your delicate skin, playfully nipping at you every few inches.

Oh, how it amused him when you squirmed, afraid of his real bite, perhaps? The thought excited him.

You continued to whimper while Sukuna roamed your thighs, but when he flicked the tip of his tongue across your clit—fucking you with his thumb, his fingernails digging into the flesh of your arsecheeks—you brought your hand to your face, biting down on the flesh of your wrist.

Sukuna ignored you, giving attention to your throbbing clit, using his free hand to spread your lips just a bit more, enough for him to sink his lips down and around you. He loved when you made those whiny, little bleats—so pathetic, so fucking easy.

But, no, this wasn’t enough for Sukuna. He jerked his thumb out—your walls quivered around the empty space—and replaced it with his tongue; he groaned loudly as he sloppily lapped at your dripping, wet cunt.

Crying into your hand, still biting down on your already raw flesh, you felt the pull of your hips, ready to spasm with the release that was building up within your core. Sukuna masterfully worked his way around your insides, tensing the tip of his tongue to satisfy that sweet spot within you.

“Cum for me, Princess,” his deep voice was cast even lower as he growled as he spoke those words, commanding you; you felt a pressure within your pelvis vibrate and coil.

A pretty, choked sob found its way behind your lips as you relaxed your head to the side. The arm you had been using to silence yourself came down on Sukuna’s head so hard he scratched at your outer thigh; that would surely leave a mark. Whether you were willing to admit it or not, the thought excited you, you wanted him to hurt you.

Sukuna seemed frustrated when you didn’t obey his demand.

“I said fucking cum for me, Princess,” he snarled, firmly placing his hands on either side of your arse. You gasped, feeling the sting of him driving the points of his nails into your flesh. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you, y’know,” he continued in between tending to your soft, little cunt, “but I get the feeling you’d—“ he huffed, driving his nails into you, eliciting a strangled, wailing moan from your lips, “—like it.”

A whimpering, twitching mess was all you were beneath Sukuna’s grip. You heard the sloppy, wet noises combining with his hungry moans, tasting as much of you as he possibly could. Leaning back onto his knees, Sukuna noticed the bright flush in your cheeks.

“Sweet, little thing,” he laughed, “look, she’s embarrassed.”

Sukuna delighted in having you as his play-thing, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. While he stared at you with his impossibly dark eyes, you heard the distinct jostling of a belt being undone; you heard it land with a thud when he discarded it to the side, triggering your body to shudder once more.

He wasn’t impressed with you when you lowered your gaze away.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled, “you will return the favour, Babygirl.”

Your heart beat wildly against your chest, your breathing was nothing but desperate, clamouring gasps as he hoisted you by your hair. Your protesting cries meant nothing to him as he effortlessly pulled you to your knees and the sight of your eyes brimming with tears amused him all the more.

“You’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?” he gave an inflection to his voice, trying to mimic Yuji’s, “It’s still his body, right?”

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightened while he fiddled with the zip of his trousers, you felt helpless, watching as he relieved his thick, hard cock from its clothed prison. It was Yuji’s body, but like this—when Sukuna felt the need to barge his way in—it was his, not Yuji’s.

“Isn’t it?” he spat, pushing you down toward his crotch, cock in hand.

You may have been too shocked to form words, disjoined syllables tumbling from your lips, but not shocked enough to resist him. You didn’t recoil when your lips pressed against the swollen, wet head of his cock, as he brushed his pre-cum across your lips. In fact, you were eager, Sukuna laughed when you parted your lips, ready to receive him.

“See, it’s not that bad, is it?” he mused as he tugged your head back to look up at him.

You heard him stifle a low growl, looking up at him with your pretty, glassy eyes and your puffy, pink lips.

Whining at him as you placed your hands on either side of his muscular thighs, you were a desperate little pet eager for master’s attention. You didn’t care that he held your weight by your hair, it didn’t matter that it hurt. You didn’t care how aggressive he was; it didn’t matter when it felt this good.

“That’s it,” his smile was devilish, allowing you to lower your head into his lap on your own terms.

When you moved Sukuna’s hand away from his cock, he let out a chortle that made your heart flutter. He was gentle while you teased the aching head of his cock. You were ever so pleased with yourself when you pulled guttural, feral moans from his lips; it was your turn to tease Sukuna. For however long he might allow it, that was.

Which wasn’t long at all, it would seem.

Sukuna was impatient and you were taking far too long, he wanted his dick rammed as far down your throat as he could, and he would. He wasn’t being gentle now, not when he pushed your head down onto him. When you let out a surprised yelp, he took the opportunity to take advantage.

“Fuck,” he hissed while you gagged on the intrusion of his length.

Your throat felt raw, there was no niceness about him now as he held you down. You were sure he would be smirking as you convulsed within his grip, feebly attempting to push against his tensed thighs with very little effect. Yuji might be rough with you, but Sukuna was on a different level, and you quickly understood just how utterly useless any and all attempts to save yourself would be.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and you knew—for certain—that someone was going to be you.

You closed your eyes and held onto his thighs so tight your knuckles turned white; it was the only thing you could do to distract yourself at that moment. The tears he’d forced from your eyes dripped onto your chest with your clumsy movements. You let out a wail of relief when he pulled you away, even just for a moment, it was welcomed.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, admiring the spit that dribbled down your chin, "there's my good little Princess."

Your moan at his words was cut off by a cruel shove of his hand; you gagged under the duress of him ramming into the back of your throat. He didn't care that you choked and spluttered beneath him, in fact, you knew it excited him; the way his cock twitched with each uncomfortable noise you made told you everything.

Every bone in your body screamed at you to submit to him, you would hope it would be less humiliating than this. Sukuna was surprised when you fell limp within his grasp and jerked you back once more.

“I wasn’t sure I’d break you so easily,” he chuckled, raising his free hand to your tear-stricken face.

You shuddered when his thumb stroked away at your wet cheek. You kept your eyes closed as his hand snaked its way across your face and down to your mouth. He tightened his grip on your hair as he held down hard with his other hand.

Your eyes darted open, Sukuna was a God looking down upon a mere mortal.

He hissed, you felt a heavy pressure against your lips as he used his hand to push you back against the pillow still propped against the bed. He was quick, untangling his hand from your hair to rest it on your inner thigh. He was laughing as his fingers tightened around your thigh, claws pinching at your flesh.

“Open wide, Babygirl,” baring his teeth at you, he looked maniacal, his hulking shape looming over you.

You sobbed helplessly as the mouth on his palm opened up, summoning a tongue that successfully infiltrated your mouth with very little effort. He laughed as your pretty, flushed face twisted, breathing frantically through your nose.

You were unable to make out the words he growled while he dragged his claws along the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The games he’d played with your throat, and consequently your oxygen, had dulled your senses—all except the ones that mattered, of course.

The bottom of his palm hit hard against your abused clit and your eyes widened with realisation. Sukuna smirked, both hands pressing so impossibly hard against both sets of your lips as he leaned into you.

“Just a little more,” he growled, “and then you’ll be ready for me.”

There was no time to think before the hand at your mouth pushed your head back, the finger and thumb on either side of your nostrils were dangerously close to completely restricting your airflow. Another tongue infiltrated your aching hole, he laughed at you as you convulsed beneath him. He allowed you to shake your head from side to side but nothing more, he found your efforts at yet another struggle tempting.

Your hips bucked defiantly beneath his hand as he bore against you. You whimpered against the tongue at your mouth as the one inside your twitching hole tickled against your most sensitive spot. Sukuna brought his face down impossibly close to yours, now gently grinding his palm against your clit; the only thing you felt were tight shocks that battered away within your core.

Sukuna gripped your face with his fingers, careless as his claws almost scratched at your face. When your head was brought up to meet him, your noses touched. It was unnerving.

You felt Sukuna’s tongues retreat. You were conflicted when you felt the gnawing ache of emptiness that was left behind. Formulating thoughts seemed impossible, coherency was nowhere to be found. With heavy-lidded eyes, you lazily watched as Sukuna knelt back.

It was cute, the way you opened your legs even wider for him. It wasn’t enough for Sukuna, nothing ever seemed enough for Sukuna. You felt his clawed hands grip the underside of your tender thighs; your breath shuddered, feeling the wet head of his cock bump against your widened hole.

“Good girl,” he breathed, “open wide.”

There was no other warning than his words as he shunted his hips forward, you moaned low in your throat—a strangled, feral noise—as your dripping wet cunt enveloped his throbbing length with very little ease.

“See,” he grunted, tightening his grip on your thighs, “I can be kind—“ he pulled his entire length, your hole quivered at the empty space, “—when I want to be.”

You wailed as he bottomed out against you, digging his claws into your flesh hard enough to draw blood as he frantically thrust. He’d been patient long enough but, while you’d been a good girl and indulged him, playtime was over.

Your head whirled and your limbs were numb. The only nerves that you felt any connection to were the ones in your pussy, the ones that made it possible to feel every protruding vein of his achingly hard cock The nerves that made it possible to feel every twitch it made as Sukuna put all his weight into you. He grunted, pushing back on your thighs, you yelped when he folded them against your stomach.

Sukuna delighted in hearing the moan you gave him after yet another deep, unrelenting thrust, his pelvis grinding roughly against your clit. You found yourself unraveling beneath him, you no longer felt within your own body.

“Yuji,” you mewled.

It was an easy mistake to make, a mistake that Sukuna did not appreciate. He laughed down at you as he picked up his pace. An unrelenting pace that shunted your body with each and every thrust. A pace that made you see stars.

“Silly little bitch,” he growled, spitting on your cheek, he was surprised when you let out a gasp of arousal, “say my name.”

He watched you convulse beneath him, felt you writhe and twist in his arms. It was delicious. The way your cunt clamped on his cock, tighter and tighter, and harder and harder until your cervix felt bruised.

“You’re mine right now, Princess,” he told you breathlessly, “Say it.”

You felt his spit hit your face again and your pelvis tightened. Things like that were supposed to feel this good, and for a brief moment, an internal struggle between arousal and embarrassment took place. Your arousal when Sukuna spoke.

“Say my fucking name,” was his final demand, but you could only cry out nonsense, “Say it!”

“Su-Sukuna!” you cried, obliged to obey him.

You were rewarded with the relief of Sukuna removing one of his hands from your thighs, too fucked-out to move—or care—your leg still rested against your stomach. He bared his teeth and brought his hand back; you were astonished that he never lost his momentum. 

He grunted as he breathed.

“That’s right,” his voice began to waver, close to his own climax, “good girl.”

You could almost believe you weren’t just a piece of meat to him, the way his tongue wrapped around the words he used could make anyone feel special. But you were rudely reminded this was Sukuna, not Yuji, when his swung-back hand collided with your thigh.

The Earth itself could have shattered at that very moment, and all you’d feel would be him; you thought yourself lucky enough to remember your name.

“Good—“ he grunted against your arching hips, begging for more you couldn’t possibly take, “—girl.”

Sukuna juddered on top of you, within you, while his claws made their final assault on your skin, while he buried himself as deep within you as possible. You writhed and mewled beneath him, your hands grasped at the carpet, desperate to hold onto something while the pressure of his hot cum filling your battered cunt overwhelmed you.

There was a faint sting that broke through the pleasure as he continued to roll his hips against you, gently for the time being, now that he was spent.

It astonished you how quickly his breathing returned to normal while you struggled to draw any breaths that felt satisfying, still recoiling and twitching. You could speak only broken gibberish.

Sukuna lowered your legs, you wished he’d more gentle; you winced as your hip joints creaked having been forced into such an uncompromising position. You felt the weight of his chest press against yours and his nose nuzzled gently against the crook of your neck.

There was a tense moment as you lay under him as your senses regained consciousness.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered, tears threatened the edges of your eyes.

The pretty pink man who lay on top of you let out an angered growl, the hands that tightened around your wrists no longer had claws; there was care in the grip.

“I’ll kill him,” you heard him growl, his grip tightening.

“Yuji I’m—“ he didn’t leave you room to finish as he lifted his head, gazing down at you with furrowed eyebrows and bold, dark eyes.

“But first,” he told you, looking down at the mess between where your bodies connected, “it looks like I have to punish you first.”

He looked back to you—was he enjoying this?—and cast a dirty smirk at you.

“Because despite what Sukuna may think or say,” he continued, looming closer to you, his cock twitching with every word, “you haven’t been a good girl, have you, Princess?”

Your lips may have been moving but your voice was inaudible.

“You can thank Sukuna for one thing though, Princess,” he growled, nipping at your neck.

His voice broke when he deliberately moaned in your ear, a sound that made you squirm with delight.

“There’s no more holding back,” was the last thing he said before raising your arms above your head and locking his teeth to your neck.

[direwombat]

1, 23, 69, and 71 for the fanfic writing asks? :)

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

oh god yes. there's so much daydreaming that happens, usually as a way of playing with ideas before committing them to paper/word doc. once i have daydreamed enough to produce an outline then i'm usually able to jump right into writing, but i need to play with my dolls in my brain sandbox first.

23. Is writing the beginning, middle, or end of the story easiest? Hardest?

middles are usually the easiest for me. once i get into the action or really hit that flow/rhythm it's usually really easy for me to just go which is always a really good feeling. it's the reward for setting up the dominoes. the second they start to fall is such a delightful part of the writing process for me.

and as for the hardest? endssssss. my god ending a story is always a struggle. mostly because i get lazy and i know i get lazy so i have to show some sort of self discipline, either while writing or while editing to make sure that the end of a fic/chapter/scene remains consistent with the rest of the fic.

69. What are your favorite fics at the moment?

god i haven't been reading much fic recently afdljasfl;ajdf, but souvenirs from better times by different_approach dug its claws in me back in like 2019 (i think i found it right before it went on haitus) but i finished, oh gosh probably last year at this point and i haven't stopped thinking about it. and it was lowtides' come a little closer that hooked me on Jacob/Deputy and i haven't crawled out of that hole yet.

but as far as ongoing fic goes, i need to catch up on pretty much all of @socially-awkward-skeleton 's works. i love me some werewolf aus, and everything i've read of american beasts sounds so good i've just not had brain for reading recently) also @adelaidedrubman‘s wildfire. i’m only a few chapters in but jestiny is such a fun protagonist i love her and i want to study her. 

71. Do you spend more time reading or writing?

adlfkjafd piggybacking off the end of the previous question: writing. i've been trying to get back into reading and have recently figured out what kind of reading tickles my brain rn, but normally i only have the energy for one or the other after work, and usually i choose writing.