#enjoy burning your fucking retinas on my colors <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[fizzaro11i]

little known fact about me... i invented the daddy dom pride flag 💣💥❤️‍🔥

[wittlesissyb4by]

Author's Note: If you're wondering where Chapter 4 is, you're not going crazy. Due to the nature and formatting (it uses chatlogs and explicit content) it is not suited enough for this prude-ass site. I'm sorry to say, but if you want to read Chapter 4 (and all the way up to 7), you'll have to subscribe to my SubStar. I'm sorry, I wish there was another way, but I will have it available for even the least expensive option of $3. My sincerest apologies. Still, I think you'll still be able to grasp the story without missing too much context from Ch. 4 (our main character, Alan, performed a task, and was rewarded with pictures of Persephone.) I hope you can still enjoy the story below. Thanks for reading!

The White Rabbit Chapter 5 - Cockslut

I had never jerked off to the same set of pictures so many times in my life. Even when I was younger and found my Dad’s dirty magazines, my prepubescent self didn’t spank it as much as I had to the photos I’d just received from Persephone.  I spent so long staring and fapping to those pictures she sent, every inch of her was embedded into my brain. Burned into my retinas like when a TV is left on for so long that it damages the display. Hell, it probably is burned into my phone screen from being up so many times. 

She’s even more gorgeous than I imagined. It’s rare that something can live up to the hype you’ve been building up for it for so long. I pored over every pixel of her perfect body, examined the contours of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes, the crooks of that devious smile, the splotches of colors in her tattoos, specifically the one of the little white rabbit.

“That doesn’t mean that’s what she really looks like. She could be catfishing you” That tiny voice in the back of my head still whispered.  But I shoved that thought aside, even after the post-nut clarity hit.

I still masturbated the way she told me to. Every single time. Fingering the head of my dripping clit through my little panties with a dildo in my mouth or ass. I didn’t last long at all. I imagined her standing over me, smiling that wicked smile, laughing at me while shoving that dildo in my mouth, or pounding me in the ass with it. I finally was able to give a face to the rubber dick I’d been shoving in my holes for so long. What I wouldn’t give to have her right there next to me, doing all the things I imagined, but in reality.

Persephone didn’t talk to me for a few days. I don’t know if she had something going on, or if she was just leaving me to my own devices, to stare longingly at her photos, to imagine scenarios of her in my head. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it also makes subs more dependent on their Mistresses. 

Without her guiding presence, I was left with this odd sort of void. No one was telling me what to do anymore. How would I know how to “fuck my slutty little asshole” if she wasn’t there to tease and berate me with her messages?

I’m not proud of what I did in her absence. 

“Sorry, I had some things…come up at work.” She messaged after almost a whole week. 

“It’s fine.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t checking my phone every 30 seconds in hopes that she would finally respond. 

“Did you do okay while I was gone?”

“Yes Mistress.” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

“My little slut was able to handle herself?”

I guess you could say that.  “Yes Mistress.”

But something was eating at me. I didn’t know how to tell her, I didn’t know if I wanted to tell her. But this relationship—no matter how weird it was—had to be built on trust, right?

“I…i might’ve…” I typed out the next part, deleted it, then typed again. “I may have…found someone else…”

My heart was pounding as I waited for her response, but it didn’t take long. 

“Oh?”

She wanted me to elaborate. 

“Did you find a girl in real life that’ll dress you up like a sissy bitch and fuck your little butt, slut?”

I audibly scoffed at that. Like that would ever happen. 

“No I…found some other people online…”

“People? As in, more than one?”

“I…yea…”

She didn’t say anything for a while. She must have been fuming. 

“Are they girls? Or are they men?”

I felt myself flush, shriveling into myself. I felt so ashamed, not just because of what it was, but because I knew I was disappointing her. I was effectively ‘cheating’ on her. 

“Men…😞”

Nothing happened for a second, minutes, hours— or at least that’s what it felt like. Then, Persephone is typing…

It took a long time too. She must have been writing a novel. Berating me for being such a piece of shit. I finally found a girl to fulfill my dreams, and I went and blew it as soon as she stepped away for a few days. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She said. “Did you sext with them??”

Again, I wanted to lie, but there was no denying it now. “Yes…”

“This is it. I blew it. A girl any submissive would kill for, and I let it slip away the first chance I got. 

Persephone is typing…

I was sweating, dreading what was to come. Finally, a massive text bubble hit the screen. 

“LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂”

Well…that wasn’t the response I expected. 

“You fucking WHORE!! Hahaha”

I felt a bit of tentative relief, still not quite sure how she was taking it. 

“Did I tell you you had to do that??”

“No ma’am…😥”

“But you did it anyway?”

“Mhmm.. 😣”

“You know, this is the second time you’ve done something without my permission, and it always seems to involve cock…”

She was referring to the time I used the dildos she ‘made’ me buy. She didn’t tell me to use them, she didn’t have to, I just…did it anyway. 

“Because you’re a desperate little cockslut, aren’t you?”

My immediate reaction was to deny it, the same way I’d been doing my whole life. I always told myself ‘as long as a woman was making me be a slut for men, it was fine. It’s not gay.’ But the proof was right there. Even without her around I still went out and did what I always told myself I’d never do on my own. 

“I…i think so…😩”

“I wanna hear you say it.” 

“Say what?”

“Tell me what you are.”

It took a second to register what she meant, but then it hit me like a truck.

“I’m a little cockslut…” I said. Just typing the words made me feel weird, but also weirdly arroused…

“Louder.”

I switched to all caps, “I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!”

“No no.” She replied, “I want you to make a video. Put your little panties on, get on your dildo, and start bouncing.”

I scrambled to obey, perhaps a bit too quickly. My cock was already fully erect by the time I pulled my panties up around it. I stuck the suction cup to the floor, making the rubber dick sway back and forth, squirted a generous amount of lube on the tip, worked some between my crack, pulled my panties aside, hit the video, and started recording. 

I slowly lowered myself down on it, wincing as it pressed inside my unrelaxed sphincter. There were several seconds of awkward fumbling and adjusting and lowering and gasping before it finally worked its way in and the sounds turned to sighing. 

“I’m a little cockslut,” I said softly, working the dildo further into me. 

“I’m a little cockslut.” I repeated, feeling it slide along my prostate. 

“I’m a little cockslut!” My eyes were in the back of my head. 

“I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!” I practically shouted, burying the dildo all the way inside me until I was squatting down on the balls. There was no denying how good it felt to be full like that. I quickly clipped the video and sent it to Persephone. 

“Don’t stop now.” She replied. “I can see you leaking in your panties. You’re loving this!!”

She was right, my panties were soaked with precum. 

I bounced, swirled, grinded my hips back and forth. 

“How many guys did you sext with?”

I wanted to reduce the number, but I was too horny to deny it. 

“Seven” I managed to reply while still keeping rhythm. 

“Seven?! That’s more than I assigned you the other day!”

She was right. What felt like such a chore before quickly became something I craved, like a lot of things she was making me do…

The dildo felt so good. I was fully relaxed now, bouncing and taking that dick like the best of them. 

“How did it make you feel? Being a little whore for men and making them cum?”

“Like a slut, Goddess.”

“You fucking LOVED it, didn’t you?”

I did, and I told her so. 

“Show me how much you love that dick.”

I set the camera up again, putting it in selfie mode so I could see myself bounce on the cock. I needed to shave my legs, I needed to work out more, get in better shape to get a better body so I could attract more—

Oh my GOD! It felt so good. When I leaned back it hit my spot perfectly. I crab-crawled my arms backwards, putting all my weight on my hands so I could focus on gyrating my hips. 

I pulled the front of my panties to the side. I wanted her to see how hard I was. How much it made my dick swell to have something pumping in and out of my asshole. I was gonna be her little buttslut. Her little whore to pimp out like she always told me. My mind was swimming, my body was clenching, waves coursed through my legs and up to my pelvis, an immense rush came from inside my rectum and then—

The first shot caught me off guard. A huge spurt of semen flew straight up in the air. Another one went forward, spraying the floor and pretty much everything else around the room as my bouncing cock spewed like an unmanned firehose. 

It took several seconds for me to register what happened, to come off the high I just experienced. To snap back to reality, to realize this even was reality. I was still gasping for breath when I slowly slid the cock out. I sat there for a second, contemplating what just took place. 

I just had a sissygasm. 

I’d heard of it before, but I never thought it was actually possible other than by extremely practiced sissies. Professionals. Ones that knew what they were doing because they’d done it so much and so heavily enjoyed the feeling of co—

I grabbed my phone, swiping away a glob of cum that must have landed on the screen. I contemplated not sending the video to Persephone, but I had to see what she said. 

Her first several messages were a series of laughing emojiis. She even sent me an audio file of her cackling like an amused hyena. If I could have seen her face, it probably had tears of laughter leaking down the sides. 

“I knew you’d get there one day, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon!!”

I let her have her fun. Berating and humiliating and teasing me for proving what a “cockslut” I am. I don’t think there was anything I could do to deny it at that point. 

“Clean up your mess.” She finally said. 

I spent the next several minutes lapping up the many, many puddles of cum littered around the room. The thick globs refused to come up just from me tonguing it like a dog, so I had to press my lips around them and slurp it up like a dog. 

“You’re not done.” She said after I sent her the video of me gargling and swallowing some. 

I looked around for a puddle I’d missed, how had she seen something that I couldn’t?

“I’m not sure where, Goddess…?”

Was it my panties? They *were* quite wet, did she mean my panties? But she soon clarified:

“The dildo 😈” 

My stomach churned as I looked back at the rubber dick I’d just violated my ass with. “Oh Goddess…please no…”

This wasn’t me faking some sort of trepidation in order for her to have another chance to belittle me, this was genuine disgust. 

“I know it’s gross, honey. But if i’m gonna whore you out you’re going to have to get used to going ass to mouth. There are some very callous men out there…”

“Please…please don’t make me 🥺”

“I’m sorry, sissy, it has to be done. Let this be a lesson for you to keep yourself clean at all times. You need to be doing regular enemas. You never know who’s gonna stop and bend your bimbo ass over! Now get to cleaning. And don’t try to wipe it down first either, I can see the glistens of lube.”

Damn, that was my backup plan. There was no getting out of it. Well…there was. I could just stop talking to her altogether. Draw the line. Quit right here and now. But was I really going to let a dirty dildo ruin what we have? I’d probably never get this opportunity again. (Not to clean my ass juices off a fake dick—but have a powerful woman tell me what to do.)

I leaned in close, turning up my nose, trying to block out the faint, pungent smell. The fake black dick at least hid any damning streaks I may not have had the stomach to see. 

After tapping record on my phone, I tentatively opened my mouth and stuck my tongue to the tip, cringing at the taste that was probably more lube than anything else. I made a mental note to get the flavored stuff if this was going to be a regular occurance. 

A regular occurance? What was happening to me?? I went from wanting to be dominated by a stranger, to wearing panties, dirty talking creepy men, shoving dicks in my holes, and then shoving those dirty dicks back into my mouth. I never imagined wanting to be dominated would lead to me doing such depraved things. But here I was, slurping the lube off of a dick I just used to make myself cum without even touching my own dick. 

“I think you missed a spot…” Persephone said, “go deeper.”

I wonder if she enjoys this. Like genuinely enjoys watching guys in panties gag and sputter on a dirty dildos. Then again, I can think of several females I screwed over in the past that would probably pay good money for this very video. 

“Now the balls…”

If it was able to sparkle, it would have by the time I was done with it. My mouth was full of all sorts of conflicting flavors like cum, lube, and god knows what else. 

“Smack your face with it a few times, just for giggles!”

Oh how far I’d fallen. If only I had known at the time that this was only the very beginning. 

“Did you have fun?” She asked after it was all said and done. 

“Yes Goddess,” I said, even without being horny anymore, I found myself being truthful. 

“You like being my little slut?”

“YES Goddess!”

“Good. Because I have another assignment for you…”

~~To Be Continued~~

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week Day 2 - Long time no see

Summary: It’s been a while since Alistair Shepard and Garrus Vakarian have seen each other. They’ve been busy on their separate planets, helping in whatever ways they can to get things back to as normal as they’re going to get. However, with some free time, they’re finally getting to meet back up. Problem is... somebody forgot to mention the testosterone. Whoops. Well, at least Shepard’s got a free offer of carapace ripping from his sister if things go south.

(Set after ME3, enjoy your t4t shakarian lol)

---

Babe: See you at 3 then.

The message still glowed on his screen, burned into his retinas from the night before. It was the last message in a long conversation that had lasted well into hours he should have been sleeping, but it had been worth it. After all, it was important to hash out details when your fiancé was coming to visit.

It was even more important to do so in his circumstances.

“Fuck…”

The words leaked out from between Alistair’s teeth as he glanced around – the time said it was sometime after 2:40. Like always, campus was busy, full of his fellow students going from one class to another. Most of them look tired – and he understood that fully. Between med school and fighting the reapers… some days it could be a toss-up, depending on what he was doing.

Most days, med school won. Maybe that was a good thing? Or maybe he was just a sadist.

Regardless, campus was busy. It was easy to blend into the crowd like this as he sought a seat on a bench under a tree. All he could do was look at the screen of his omni-tool, frowning as he read through the messages.

He shouldn’t have been nervous… but he was.

Maybe that was why he clicked onto a new message window, just as busy as the one with the one he had been glancing at. Even better, the other person was online. Something like hope sprung into his chest as he started typing, fingers flying with the speed of an ex-Alliance officer.

Some things were fading with time – this probably never would.

Al: Where are my anxiety meds when I need them?

Bo: Relax, he’s going to love it. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anything left to bury afterwards.

Bo: Or whatever turians do when they die.

“Nothing like threatening my fiancé to get me to calm down.” He chuckled despite himself, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. However, a beeping drew his attention. Bo was attempting to video call him, which he was more than happy to accept.

Rannoch was as busy as ever on the other side of the line. He could see quarians and geth in the background, going about their business as his adopted sister focused her camera. Even after tweaking it, she was still a little skewed and not completely in the frame. However, she was allowed to be – her analogue sense of direction had saved his ass. She could be as out of focus as she wanted.

“I mean it, Al.”

He chuckled again. “I know, Bo. I guess I’m just nervous. I mean… we haven’t seen each other before…”

With his free hand, he gestured towards his body. Some days, especially in the early morning when he was half asleep, he was still unable to believe what was actually happened. It seemed more like a dream… at least until his voice cracked. It was doing that far less as his range settled, but still. At his age, it was kind of embarrassing.

Oh well, puberty was rough, especially when it was triggered for a second time in his 30’s.

“Told you that you should’ve sent him more dick pics.” Bo’s tone was flat as a pancake as she adjusted her camera – still out of focus. Now he was getting a view of Rannoch’s currently cloudless sky. Last time he had seen it, it had been full of Reapers. Honestly, he preferred it without them. Much friendlier. “Just relax. You know he thinks you’re hot as hell. All you have to do is use your commander Shepard voice and he’ll be eating out of your hand.”

Alistair felt his face color a little as he looked to the side. “I’m not going to use that in public…”

“You know what I mean. An Adam’s apple isn’t going to turn him off, so no sense worrying about it.” She paused, and he swore her eyes glowed. Maybe that was the camera angle? “And if it does…”

He could already see the threat – beating him with his own carapace was one of her favorites. He had never actually seen someone do it, but it was a classic at that point.

“Yeah, I know - death and calamity upon his head like you’ve only reigned down on the last guy who tried to take your crown.”

“He’s still recovering.” There was pride in her voice at that, and she should have it. After all, it wasn’t every day a human went undefeated in Omega’s underground Krogan wrestling tournaments. Surviving the reapers only brought better challengers, and it seemed to keep her well supplied with cannon fodder. “But anyway, just go for it.”

There was a pause, and her camera focused momentarily. “Also, since when did you start growing a beard?”

Oh, hail the mighty power of testosterone…

“Like two months ago, shaving sucks.” A beeping drew his attention – his heart raced at the sight of a new message. “Gotta go… I think that’s him.”

“Remember, just call me if you need his carapace ripped off.”

After the offer of violent assault, the call disconnected and left Alistair alone with his thoughts as he switched back over to his messages. Just like he thought, the message was from a certain someone he was waiting for. His heart jumped into his throat as he glanced around – nope, not there yet.

Babe: Almost there, got a little lost. I’ll never understand human city planning.

He always said that. Still, it made the ex-marine chuckle as he stood, waiting. Soon enough, they would be together again. It had been far too long, and the distance achingly wide. But now that the relays were working again, it was possible.

Note to self: maybe don’t take out the relays next time he saved the universe. It made travel a nightmare to say the least.

At least it wasn’t a long wait. Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair spotted movement that didn’t quite track for tired med student. It was too focused for that, and the pace was all wrong anyway. Plus, the whole carapace and being like seven feet tall thing helped, but it didn’t sound nearly as cool as the former.

“Alright, just… relax. Like Bo said…”

Of course, that didn’t help the butterflies in his stomach as he stood, adjusting his shirt. All the logic in the world couldn’t have saved him then as he watched the turian approach, clearly scanning the crowd for familiar markers. His heart stopped when their eyes met in the crowd, blue into blue.

Garrus was looking good for someone who had nearly died killing Reapers.

“Al?”

There was no mistaking the surprise in the turian’s voice as he made his way over to the tree. When he finally got there, his mandibles flapped like flags in the wind. The gears were turning in his brain, no doubt running countless calibrations. In a weird way, it was kind of cute.

At the same time, it was fucking nerve wracking. Talk about a conflict of interest.

Still, it was Garrus, and he was finally there. That was enough to put a smile on Alistair’s face as he reached out to take the turian’s taloned hand. It was just as rough and warm as he remembered, and his fingers still stretched as they laced together. It might have been a little sore, but muscle memory wasn’t letting him down.

“Hey, babe. Good to see you got here in one piece.”

Thank the universe his voice didn’t crack with that one. Maybe this was the thanks he got for saving it.

At least Garrus had the good grace to not look as though his jaws had stopped working. Alistair did get to watch his eyes travel downward in the classic once-over, though. All the while, his stomach bubbled. It felt as though a heavy weight was poised to drop on his head, and all he could do was stand there and wait.

Eventually, the turian squeezed back carefully, the blunt side of his talons sliding down his fingers. “So, I guess this is why you’ve been so shy about video calling me lately?”

“My voice was cracking really badly up until about a month ago, you were saved a lot of translator feedback.” He smiled, sheepish. “But… yeah. I didn’t really know how things were going to turn out and…”

His voice trailed off as he felt heat leak into his cheeks. “Here’s hoping you still think I’m hot?”

Yep, his voice definitely cracked at the end there. Maybe the universe had it in for him after all. At least Garrus didn’t wince too hard at the sudden shift – good old turian military training there. Still, he hadn’t said anything yet. That… wasn’t promising.

Maybe he should have sent those dick pics?

“You… what’s that called again?” Garrus cocked his head to the side in a gesture that always made him look cute and kind of bird-like. “On your face. Joker was always talking about his.”

Right, turian…

“Beard. And mine’s not quite as good as his yet I’m afraid but give me a few months and I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, fingers ghosting over his amp. It hadn’t seen action in almost a year now, and it was still odd to feel it cool to the touch.

Much to his relief, Garrus nodded. “It looks good now. I mean, you look good in general and all… I thought turian reactions to hormones were impressive, but humans are something else.”

“Gotta love those secondary sexual characteristics, babe.” Relief flooded through Alistair’s system as he sighed in relief. “And I think you just saved yourself getting your carapace ripped off by my sister.”

Hooray – that would have been a nightmare to fix.

Now it was the turian chuckling as he reached down to press his faceplates to his forehead in an alien version of a kiss. It was a gesture that always got his heart racing, even if it was just a quick peck. He had missed that in their time apart – texting just couldn’t beat actual contact.

“That’s probably for the best. I’ve not had a lot of practice lately, might be getting a little rusty.”

Alistair chuckled as they started to walk through the crowd. “You, rusty? I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, no, it’s true. Barely had any time to run calibrations even, I’m starting to worry I’ll forget.”

That time, they shared a laugh between them. Maybe this was what Alistair had missed the most in the time spent on different planets – there was just something about the interplay between human and turian laughter that made his insides feel warm. Or maybe that was just his reaction to Garrus in general. Right then, anything was possible.

Still, he felt his face color a little as he looked to the side. “I’m sorry I didn’t send any in-progress shots. Bo could confirm any embarrassing details if you asked her.”

“Trust me, I get it. Remind me when we get back to your place to tell you about how I didn’t tell my sister I was going on hormones until after she came back from basic.” Another squeeze. “Of course, if you wanted to test that new vocal range out in some more strenuous conditions first…”

Oh, there was nothing friendly about that gaze. And it was something Alistair could appreciate as he squeezed back. Home was well prepped for what they both had in mind – they just had to get there first. Lucky for him, he lived within walking distance of campus.

The chuckle that escaped his lips was definitely not of the innocent afternoon type as he leaned in so only the turian could hear him. “I think that can be arranged, Vakarian. Better pick up the pace, though.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

With that, it was off they went at a faster rate, not quite a run but definitely quick. With the sun shining and thoughts about what was waiting for him when he got home, Alistair was once again glad the whole universe saving thing had worked out for the better.

Now… what exactly was he going to do with the turian when he got home? The options were endless…

[katsukikitten]

Weighted

A/N @zbops for you bb as per your request. I hope that this lives up to at least half of your expectations. Thank you so much for supporting me and for encouraging me. Enjoy it and may it help you just a bit more. I send my love XOXO Kitten 💋

It was not unlike you to occasionally stay up late into the night. Late enough to see the moon rise high in the inky black sky watching the constellations move by at a lazy pace.

But to lie awake long enough to greet the sun was abnormal.

At least it was supposed to be abnormal now. Before it was your normal to lose sleep as fat droplets slid from unblinking eyes. Thoughts consuming you with nothing and everything at once.

You thought yourself better.

Not cured, not immune, but well.

Fine and level headed for once.

Yet here you lie again unable to will your exhausted body to sleep as you replay failures from pasted years.

Like an old film one must study to improve but every time it is rewatched another haunting flaw jumps out.

And there is nothing you can do to right your wrong.

Frustrated tears well in your eyes now as you watch the clock for the second week in a row burn an obnoxious 3 am into your retina.

Furious as you thought you had put this problem in its place. That you had long ago learned how to make your demon small and to lock it away.

As with everything in life it adapted, slipping through the bars of its cage only to find itself looming over you once more. Delighting in your anguish as it exploits the coping mechanism you developed.

Turning it on its head to haunt you, to hurt you. To put you in your place as you thought you did it.

Although it knows this will be enough to pain you, it wants to do more.

Truly a petty being as it steals your voice, worming into your head just to whisper.

"Did you really think a few extra hours of training a day would make a difference? That you would suddenly be  sought after as a pro hero? You could barely get an apprenticeship and look at how you're failing at that!"*

This dredges up your failure from last week, your first offical mission as apprentice.

What was supposed to be a normal patrol quickly unraveled into a full on street brawl.

You aided your hero holding down the perpetrators bodies with your quirk, straining to keep them in place.

There were tenty or so overpowered drug enhanced strength quirks fighting the pull you placed on them. 

Your arm pangs now, reminding you of how it threatened to snap beneath the own weight of your quirk.

"Useless." Its laugh echoes in your ear.

Your temper flares, fist smashing the small black box that mocks you with the time before you rise. Dressing into your training clothes, sliding on your weighted vest as your bruises groan against it. You push your already consistent 1.5 times Earth's gravity pull to a consistent 2.5 for now.

Hands grab for your phone and headphones before fumbling to find your key in your amassed returning symptoms. Throwing piles of clothes, books, and homework onto other piles of  long neglected items.

Irritation mixed with a twinge of panic sets in as you look for your FOB that accesses not only the gym you are so desperate to use but also it accesses your dorm building as your dorm room key rests on a chain around your neck. Your memory works overtime as you wonder where it could have been placed.

Was it it Kirishima's room?

Or Bakugou's?

Who's room did the three of you spend the night in last?

You cannot remember, time all runs together much like a watercolor painting caught in the rain.

Colors bleed and the world dips into sun bleached greys as you think of the two of them.

Had you even texted either of them good night?

When was the last time you told them you loved them?

You pick up your phone, bloomed bruised hand winking back at you before the phone obliterates into metal and glass confetti at your feet.

"Fuck." You hiss having forgotten that you had the gravitational pull around your hands as well. Damning yourself for being so careless although you are still careless enough to walk over the shrapnel with bare feet.

It is then you find your key FOB lying in the middle of the chaotic room which you snatch greedily before locking your post nuclear bomb room away.

And with that the thoughts of ash blonde and ruby red hair.

You slink on guilty feet in the shadows of the hall, the moon your only witness as you make your way outside.

The air is cool agaisnt your heated skin, hinting that fall is almost over. That winter will be sure to rear its ugly head and harshly at that.

As if to prove a point an icy wind cuts through your skin deep into your bones, you sigh out upping the force on your body.

The gym is a short walk from the dorm, the night caressing you with soft fingers as it guides you to the thick metal door.

A worried gulp echoes back at you as your hand hovers just before the panel. FOB just out of range to be scanned.

Last time a student was on rest probation their key could only work if Sensei scanned theirs as well.

With gritted teeth you bring the key to kiss smooth plastic. For a moment you're sure it will flash red but when it beeps with a flash of glorious green you cannot help the small smile that spreads across your lips.

They must have forgotten to add those restrictions to yours, that or they didn't think you would disobey your physical therapist and other Sensei.

It doesn't take long before you're sweating.

And the more you swing the harder you make the gravitational pull on your body. The floor groans from the pressure as you push the pull towards you beyond limits for a recovering body, 3.5 times Earth's normal pull.  Sweat slides down a bruised nape and drips into now stinging eyes.

You do little to alleviate the pain or sweat that is trying so hard to blind you.

Another swing of your weighted fists has your bones creaking, muscles burning while you have half a mind to add more sand to your wrist and ankle bands.

Hell maybe even more to your vest although it presses against your sternum harshly with each step, threatening to snap a rib. You begin to lose the concentration on the areas you want to afflict as the incresed gravitational begins to spread out. The floor groans harder depsite being designed to withstand many powerful quirks.

A hairline fraction fissures through the smooth wood, attempting to snake up the cinderblock wall.

"None of this is going to change anything. You will still be..."

A heated punch hits the dummy hard, causing it to skid but you advance without letting up, snarling.

"Don't fucking say it."

Another hit to the dummy and you've got it cornered agaisnt the wall but still the voice goes on, a smile dancing along its tone as it purrs.

*"Worthless"*

You begin to jab agaisnt the dummy with enough momentum and force that the padding begins to fall away from its "face" revealing unforgiving metal beneath.

Metal that you pound into anyway.

Metal that warps for a moment from being too close to your pull, still your barrage of fists and feet cease to let up.

You follow up a punch with a round house kick increasing the force on your body subconsciously. As you rotate your vest slams heavily into your ribs and an audible crack echoes around the room. 

"Fuck!" You huff slamming your foot against the cool surface, the dummy implodes as you land on your feet.

In that moment the room pops from the pressure as you let up the force. The floor creaks, almost breathing as it returns to normal although now heavily warped. Suddenly you feel as light as a feather. As if at any moment you could float up to the ceiling like a lazy balloon only to get tangled in the harsh overhead lights.

Crimson splatters the floor from your knuckles and spit, hand feathering over your ribs. Sliding beneath dampened fabric, smoothing over already bruised skin. You're sure it will only worsen now that you count, one, two.

Three fucking cracked ribs. Your breaths come out in heavy puffs all echoing back to you as you right your self, eyes seeking out another dummy, ignoring the pain begging you to stop.

But feeling pain was better than feeling that weighted void in your chest.

As if you were a super nova that imploded, pulling everything around you into the darkened abyss.

Turning it all into hollowed nothingness.

The first sparring dummy you spy seems to look at you funny, you rear your fist but before it can make contact a growl cuts out.

"You've done enough little one."

His voice dips low, borderline pissed. It is a warning and one you must obey as the air permeates with salted caramel.

But you're in no mood to deal with Katsuki, no mood to be submissive, obedient or anything relative to feeling at all.

Regardless if it's clearly for your own good. 

All you wanted, needed, was for everything to fade.

And maybe to black.

But it doesn't instead he advances hand finding your wrist with a sharp grip, that softens only to assess. Turning your wrist this way and that with heated calculating eyes, before he rips off your weighted vest with a growl. Lifting your shirt to reveal blush black painted beneath your smooth skin.  His finger prods your ribs and when he counts them in his head he snarls. You watch his muscles twitch as he holds himself. Muscles that had grown twice their size since first year and yet you were left unchanging.

"Training is futile, you'll always be puny."

You rip your wrist free, teeth bared at an already snarling Bakugou.

"Not. Now." You misread his actions beneath the initial rage. He is concerned but all you see is punishment in his eyes 

Disappointment.

You look over Katsuki's sculpted shoulder to see Kirishima waiting at the door with glistening ruby eyes that seem to be torn.

Who does he support? How can he defuse this? 

"You're fucking hurt." The blonde bites out venom.

"I'm fucking fine. Drop it!" You shove past him slamming your shoulder into his. He wants so badly to reach for you. To yank you back to him so you can look him in his angry scarlet eyes.

"Oh so the blood on the floor means you're fine? Your cracked ribs and bruised to fuck all body means you're fine?!" His temper shows with deadly pops that dance along his skin.

You weight him and Kirishima down gently as you leave, hoping it slows them down long enough for you to return to the safety of your dorm room.

Katuski snarls as he walks with leaded feet, as if walking through mud under the influence of a muscle relaxer.  But he and Kirishima have trained with you plenty of times, not to mention they are exposed to your increased pull.

"Maybe we should give them sometime? They are upset, babe." Kirishima offers only to be met with a glowering glare. 

"I've tried listening to you, I've tried it your way and look what has happened." A snarl so low that Kirishima feels his gut twist.

"But..."

"But what?" He turns on his lover quickly, "We gave them two weeks of no contact. This is clearly a symptom we need to bisect before they kill themselves over some stupid fucking training."

Kirishima can do nothing but follow as Bakugou stalks you up the steps that you stomp.

You're seething, steam rising from your skin with each heavy breath as your vision blurs between rational thought and white hot rage.

Rage that is always so easy to give into. Especially when your only other option is immobilzing sadness. Before you know it Bakugou is barking at you from the jamb of the door while your ruby haired boyfriend presses gently against his back.

Trying to remind him that his own irate reaction could further the situation, Bakugou feels it but it is lost as you strip to change. You rip the velcro from your wrists, dropping the fifty pounds weights with a harsh thud. The floor rattles the items on your desk and even the window before you move onto the hundred pound weights on your ankles.

Grumbling as you think of your two hundred and fifty pound vest abandoned in the gym. How hard had Bakugou torn it from your strong yet sleek frame?

Would you have to take it to the support class?

You strip your shirt and then your pants as two sets of red eyes gauge different reactions. 

Rubies widen, shining with the threat of tears. While blood scarlet narrow with burning, hot, wrath.

Katsuki knew you were bruised, he knew you had those broken ribs and he knew you were set out of rehabilitation probation due to injuries but he did not know the extent of them.

And how the fuck could he? What with you locking yourself away in your room, refusing to text them, refusing to eat the meals cooked and left for you.

Refusing help as you promised you would not do.

Katsuki's warning signs of blowing do not go unnoticed, a strong hand wraps around his hip. Squeezing, hoping to convey the softness the ash blonde so desperately needs.

It works, at least as far as his quirk goes. Bakugou Katsuki  could erupt in more than one way.

"What. The. FUCK?!" He goes to take a step in but Kirishima keeps his grip tight. But that does not stop the tongue lashing you get. Bakugou takes a large slow breath, as you once taught him and snorts it out like a dragon.

"You promised you would stop doing this..." His voice, once soothing now grating your last nerve, "You fucking promised, damn it."

Kirishima gives another small squeeze before piping up.

"We are just worried about you, love. Very worried." His voice cracks at the end, causing Katsuki to look over his shoulder.

The tears well faster over dancing garnets.

From the weight of the guilt something in you finally snaps. The room blurs as you subconsciously pull the force to you, items slowly crushing beneath the weight as you lunge for the first thing you can wrap burning hands on.

Your desk chair to which your hurl while screaming

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Your hot headed boyfriend catches the chair with ease, exploding it on impact.

With an angry enough blast that the paint on the ceiling and walls peel.

Oh if Bakugou wasn't pissed at you before he was now.

And not angry over the fact that you've thrown something at him.

But over the simple fact that you were hurting in deadly silence. So badly suffering that you cannot even rationally express yourself anymore.

And more over he is pissed he has let it get this far.

The glass of your window shatters behind you, both from your exertion and his explosion pulling you into the here and now.

The room spirals as quickly as you do, suddenly forgetting how to breath. Gasping as a fish does out of water before you fall to your knees. The two men rush to you, fearing you'll lose yourself in your panic. Two sets of strong arms wrap around you both crushing you between them.

"You're okay." Kirishima soothes, "You're okay. Just breathe."

Nails bite into toned flesh though you are unsure which unfortunate mail is receiving the half blood moons as tears prick your eyes. Falling towards the Earth as much as you wish they wouldn't. Your stomach lurches, your side screams but it does not stop the racks of sobs that tremor through your body.

You come undone in the worst way before the very two men you wanted, needed to be strong in front of. There was already a detrimental gap between your development and theirs.  In every fucking aspect you could think of.

Muscle mass.

Durability.

Capability.

The list could go on.

After some time Bakugou coos to you.

"Now tell me what's wrong."

Kirishima places his head between your shoulder blades, reaching out for Bakugou's hand.

"I...I'm behind. I... I cannot even train right." Tears slip over ruddy cheeks that Katuski gently wipes away.

"Behind how?" Kirishima prompts, letting lazy circles trace your stomach.

"On my first mission I get put on recovery suspension, I worked so so so *hard* to even get that hero to agree to take me on and yet I fucked it all up!" Another frustrated sob that has you hiccuping for a moment. You watch Bakugou's face turn to stone as he tries to calm himself.

"I almost died on one of my first big missions. I sat out for a long time, this was a little bit before you transferred." Kirishima admits, "Resting and PT made me stronger."

"Hell I was behind at one point too. I couldn't even fucking pass the provisional!" Katsuki growls at the thought.

"Neither could Todoroki-kun." Kirishima adds.

"But you three...you three are strong. I'm so....weak." With that Bakugou snaps.

"You think I can run with a two hundred fifty pound weight on my chest and keep pace with Iida's jog? Do you think Kirishima could hold down twenty fucking tweaked out villians at once?" His voice is gruff but his hands are soft as he lifts your chin, purposefully making you hold his gaze as he speaks, "Answer me, little one."

"N...no." You sob, Kirishima's strong arm squeezes tigher around your middle, careful to avoid your ribs, as he peppers kisses over your blackened shoulders.

"Just because your body does not reflect mine or Eijiro's does not mean you are weak. You are strong Y/N. Real fucking strong." He kisses you softly, capturing your lips tenderly as Kirishima kisses along your throat.

"Share this weight with us." Bakugou breathes out after pulling away.

"Its not weak to cry or ask for help baby." Kirishima whispers in your ear, your eyes look over your sturdy shoulder before they fall to their hands intertwined. You notice Bakugou's knuckles turning white. Had you really made them worry this much?

"Isn't that right Suki?" Eji asks, resting his chin in your shoulder. Katsuki looks at him for a long time, this man and you have helped him more than he would ever like to admit. But if this is what brought that natural magnetism about you that attracted him in the first place he'd say it 

Fuck, if it brought that blinding smile of yours back to your kissable lips he'd scream if from the fucking roof.

"Yes." He lets out a shaky sigh, "Now please, please let us help you little one."

Searching his eyes you wonder if there will ever be a time when you will stop feeling this way.

When you will stop feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders over little to nothing at all.

When you will stop feeling that black hole that crawled into your chest weighing you down and making you weightless all at once.

When you will stop the haunting feeling of sadness that lingers on the fringes of your every thought, tainting every memory and moment with its shimmering darkness.

You wonder if this cancer, if this demon that has since crawled into your chest and devoured your heart whole will ever die.

Scarlet eyes soften as they rove over your lovely features, strong arms support you from behind and you know what the answer is.

The answer is no.

It will never die, never cease to exist, never leave you alone. It will stay with you until you lie motionless forever and even then it will crawl into your casket cradling your cooling skin.

But you will not stop fighting.

Cannot stop fighting because of the small sliver of a feeling you have now.

The love that resiliently blooms despite the pressure, despite the darkness, despite it being trampled over and fucking over.

You know that these two men are not your worth nor or they your reason for being and even if, Kamisama forbid, you three broke up, you would fight on.

Tooth and nail keeping this demon under the ball of your steel toed boot.

Because in the end, after it is all said in done you will do anything to feel this.

This hope and love that radiates from within. You sigh out a shaky sigh, releasing the tension of your shoulders and the constant pressure you've kept on yourself since that mission, your shoulders sag from relief.

"Thank you, thank you for baring this with me." You squeeze their arms respectively as you speak to them both at once, "I love you."

They speak in unison their two tones melding together and soothing over your skin like an ointment.

"I love you too." 

[honeycombme]

Easy as Breathing (PT. 2)

Clyde has never looked so sweet.

Part 2!

(Pt 3 available here!)

Your fingertips shook ever so slightly as they pulled clothes from your dresser. What do you even wear camping. Nothing you dredged up from the depths of your drawers was satisfying the goal you had in mind. Of course, all you wanted to do was feel desirable, but how do you do that when you’ll just be sweaty and gross for the entire weekend? You decided to just text Lauren. You wrote, “EMERGENCY. Wtf am i supposed to wear to keep Clyde’s attention? Surely not the t-shirt from my middle school robotics team?!”

You felt even more frantic. Bathing suits. You didn’t have anything other than a cheap, all black one-piece. You texted Lauren again. “Ok ok and bathing suits...i’m fucked”. You took a shaky breath, piling in essentials you at least knew you’d need. After all the toiletries and whatnot were sorted, you checked your phone. Lauren must’ve been having a ball. 

“Oh sweetpea, honeybear, sugarplum. I’m at the mall right now, what’s your size?” Her text burned into your retinas as you contemplated whether or not to give her this power. You relented, realizing you were already a lost cause and she could only help from here. After she received your text about sizes, she sent a wink emoji. Winking….about what???

You decided to fold up every piece of clothing you ripped out of your dresser while you waited for her to let you know whether or not she had any luck with bathing suits or clothes. You bargained with yourself, realizing t-shirts, shorts, and leggings would just have to do in this case. You folded everything neatly into a duffle bag, cursing under your breath at your nerves. 

Your phone dinged. When you unlocked the screen, Clyde’s name came into view. Your heart fluttered and you felt the butterflies again. You’d been texting on and off since last night you went to the bar, getting to know each other little by little. You learned that  he loves spaghetti and the smell of the Earth fresh after the rain. You learned that he was in the military and that he enjoys the moon more than the sun. You learned that his favorite dessert was peach cobbler. You also learned that you wanted to learn everything about him. 

He texted, “Just finished puttin some booze in a cooler for us, that way everything’ll be nice and chilled when we get there. I’m sure excited to be gettin there and settlin’ down for the night. I hope you’re as excited as I am, darlin.” You leaned against the closest wall you could find, re-reading the text over and over as you sighed. No matter what you wore, you were certain it’d be perfect. 

Lauren proposed that you both drive together to minimize the amount of cars at the campsite. When she showed up, she invited herself in to help you with bags. She looked you up and down as she saw you standing in your living room, closing the door and whipping her head back around. In her hands was a small fabric bag and she began pulling out the contents. 

“Ok so I packed you the swimsuit and a couple other essentials; however, we need to fix this outfit immediately,” she laughed, walking over and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Listen dear, you’re perfect; but if i’m going to live vicariously through you, i’m gonna need you to put these on.” She held out her hand, holding a few items of clothing. 

You unfurled the clothes, revealing a cropped, v-neck tank top, high-waisted jean shorts, a thin, loose cardigan, and a ballcap. You looked from the clothing to her, panic rising in your throat. 

“Y/n, it’s going to be fine. This way you’ll be more comfortable, too. It’s hotter than a rattlesnakes taint out there.” Lauren was perfect. She always had a quip to make you laugh, put you at ease. You ran into the bathroom and changed as fast as you could, trying not to look at yourself in the mirror too hard. When you walked out, she praised you. 

“YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS girl, I AM drooling. I’m quite the life saver. No need to thank me, let’s just get outta here, shall we?” With a spring in her step, she grabbed the bag and walked out of the door. You picked up your own bag and shuffled out, locking the door behind you. And so it begins. 

When you arrived at the campsite, there was a man in a guard shack checking every vehicle in. As Lauren approached, she stated the party’s name (Clyde Logan…*sigh*) and the man let you through. You drove for about 20 minutes around and around seemingly endless trees, camp sites, and then back the place you started. 

“Fuck,” gritted Lauren. She was visibly frustrated, and you were no better to navigate the woods than her. You decided to text Clyde. 

“Classic. Girls lost in the woods. Any way you can give me a play by play on how to get there?” You sent your text in a flash. Only seconds later, Clyde’s name appeared on your screen; he was calling. 

Your stomach dropped but you answered quickly (too quickly? Oh shut up y/n). 

“Hey there darlin’ can ya give me an idea of where you’re at? I can walk up to the main street ta meet ya.” His southern drawl was exceptional, I mean. WHERE did he pick this gorgeous twang from, the heavens?  

You chatted quickly about your surroundings, coming about a gentleman holding a phone, looking in the other direction. It was him. His hair was halfway pulled back into a convenient bun, t-shirt ripped open on the sides revealing his sides and chest. You shuddered slightly. When he turned his head your way, Lauren had slowed down drastically. He smiled and waved his arms for you to follow him. The path became littered with branched and trees, the further you drove in, the thicker the foliage became. Lauren kept a decent distance between him and the car. 

“Sure is looking like a snack for you, hmm?” she teased. She bit her tongue and smiled wildly when you glanced at her, pleading. Your nerves were already shot, and you felt way out of your element in this outfit. The skin that was exposed feeling every draft that passed you. 

When the car stopped, your stomach jolted upwards. You exited the car, tugging at the hem of the crop top to try and regain some modesty. Clyde was talking to Jimmy, but when he looked over and saw you, he jogged over to help. 

“Ya made it in one piece, ladies,” he beamed, giving Lauren the quickest of embraces. He made his way to you, smiling wildly as he placed an arm around you tightly, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. You could’ve sworn he breathed you in. When he pulled away, he eyed you up and down, eyes lingering on the skin between your shorts and your crop top. You were immediately away of your exposed skin again, tugging at the hem of the shirt. 

He led you into the clearing of the campsite, holding you and Lauren’s bags over his shoulder. She reached for hers as he showed you where your tent was, escaping into the tent to set her stuff up. He placed yours down next to his tent. 

“This here’s Jimmy Logan, worst best brother ta ever walk the earth-” Clyde stated as Jimmy walked towards you arms open. 

“And you must be the pretty little thing he’s been ravin’ about, c’mere sweetie,” Jimmy Logan’s arms were around you in the blink of an eye, Your left hand raising to pat his back. As he pulled away, you noticed how bright his eyes were, a stark contrast from Clyde’s molasses colored eyes. His smile was warm and genuine, an honest smile you realized you needed to see. Jimmy’s friend introduced himself and you shook hands, becoming acquainted with everyone. 

When Lauren reappeared, she also received the same introductions, hugs and quips. You were both led through the options for dinner and available snacks, Clyde hanging around in the background sipping a beer. He was tending to a small fire, attempting to build it into one that would last the evening. Lauren and you spent a good fifteen minutes applying sunscreen and bugspray, leaving you both slightly greasy with a bit of sickly perfume hanging on your skin. 

A few hours had gone by and drinks were heavily passed around, sitting by the fire. No one was shy to drink from Jimmy’s friend’s flask after a few drinks, and boy did it burn. You swallowed an accidental mouthful from the flask, trying to regain control of your facial expression as it burned your esophagus. 

“That there is my momma’s best apple pie moonshine,” declared Jimmy’s friend. “She won awards from it….there’s another handle in my trunk.” He laughed, holding his belly as the flask made its way back to him. 

“Sometimes I honestly believe your momma’s been tryna kill you with that stuff,” chuckled Jimmy, slapping his chest as the remnants of the moonshine trickled down. You smiled into the heat of the fire and the heat in your veins. Shit. You were a little drunk. 

You were saved by Clyde pulling out hot dogs and the works. You mowed down probably two...maybe three hot dogs when you felt you had control of your mouth. Jimmy and his friend spent the sunset asking you and Lauren questions about your lives. He kept referring to you as “city girls” and acting in awe of the life you had back in New England. It was interesting to see their reactions to your everyday ventures. 

You asked the same amount of questions in return, learning about Jimmy’s criminal past (he has nothing to hide) and his hopes for the future. Clyde remained quiet and attentive, soaking in all the information. You turned to face him. “What about you, mister tall, dark and mysterious?” You felt brazen, realizing you didn’t mean to put him on the spot. Clyde just smiled at you. 

“I’ll tell ya anything you wanna know, miss.”

You all got to talking about how Clyde came to own Duck Tape, how he and Jimmy got themselves into all sorts of trouble, and how they used to come to this campsite to get away from all the negatives in their lives. 

The sun was beyond set and you began to feel the draft of the air against your skin becoming colder and colder. Without realizing you were, you started shivering; teeth chattering every so often as you attempted to stifle it. It was nerves as well, Lauren and Jimmy’s friend hit it off, deciding to go watch the fireflies by the lake's edge. Now it was you, Clyde, and Jimmy. 

“Welp, since the suns down I’m gonna take this chance to go wash off the day. You guys need anything, you holler.” Jimmy stood promptly, grabbing his bag from beside his tent and walked off into the woods. 

“Shower?” you questioned Clyde. You didn’t realize but he had stood when Jimmy did, perhaps he wanted to go shower as well. 

“Yeah, it’s like a quarter-for-a-few-minutes of hot water deal,” he explained. “It’s in an old log cabin up the road.”

“Aaah,” you teased, “so this isn’t real camping..”

He came to sit by your side, shoving you playfully with his shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin ta stay pampered,” he let his hair out of the bun and shook it loose. You could smell the spicy shampoo from his hair, the deodorant clinging to his skin, the peppery cologne he must be wearing…He chuckled at his own playfulness

You breathed in deep. “Mmm tell me you brought some of that shampoo to share, mister Logan.” You smiled sweetly at Clyde and then looked back to the crackling fire. Another gust of wind, stronger than the others, attacked your exposed skin, causing you to shiver. Clyde noticed, getting up and walking towards his tent. How could this hot, muggy place have such freezing night time drafts?

Clyde returned with a balled up piece of clothing in his hand. “Arms up,” he demanded. You looked to him confused, raising your arms. He pulled the material out and draped it around your arms, tugging it down until your hands met the holes of a shirt. He grabbed his own shirt for you to wear...to keep you warm. You melted. It smelled just like him. Not exposed to the smell of burning wood, the shirt exuded his scent, each subtle note gracing your senses. You sighed as the shirt enveloped you, coming to your thighs. 

The heat of the fire on your shins matched the heat in your cheeks now. Clyde seemed closer than ever, yet the two of you were silent. 

“Clyde?” Your voice pierced a scared rhythm of crackling in the embers of the fire. 

“Y/n?” he replied.

“I think you’re too cool for me,” you joked, halfway believing it. 

He smiled wide, “Too cool...ain’t never heard that one before. Truth be told, i’m a little shy. And hell, maybe a little nervous.” 

“Nervous?”

“Yeah...i’m not real good at the whole...smooth talkin’ thing.” He looked from the fire to the ground. You turned to face him. 

“Smooth talkin’ thing,” you repeated. “Clyde, you don’t need to play games with people, you’re the real deal. That’s why all the women at the bar hang on your every word, why I come as often-” You stopped yourself. Don’t give too much away, damnit. Even if the moonshine is strong, you needed to at least not make yourself vulnerable. You looked to the ground, then to his prosthetic arm which was glinting in the fire. In your peripheral vision, Clyde was looking down at you with the faintest smirk. 

“Yes, miss y/n? Please continue,” he demanded.

You huffed a breath through your nose, taking a sip of the drink you had been nursing. “All i’m saying is...I can’t seem to get enough of being around you. You make this whole reassignment..I don’t know...brighter? Sweeter? You make everything as easy as breathing when I come to see you at the bar. I’m sure you get a lot of this, but it sure means a lot to me to have you around.” You weren’t sure where you pulled the courage to say all of this, but you realized you’d begun shaking from nerves. 

Clyde’s eyes contained the image of the fire reflected back to you. Of course they did. He’s the only person that’s made you feel hotter than the West Virginia sun. The only face you’ve pictured late at night when your hands dip below your panty line. The only thing giving you a glimmer of hope for happiness in this lonely town. You were only able to hold his gaze for a moment. His hair was curling at the ends from the humidity, a slight breeze sending the scent of his shampoo to your senses. 

“You must not know how much I think of you, y/n,” he began, “ever since you been comin’ to my bar for a laugh, I’ve been hangin off every word you say to me.” He looked down at his shirt wrapped around your body. “You are the highlight of my day, every time I see your pretty face gracin’ my bar. I love makin’ you your favorite drinks, watchin you sip and be happy with your girlfriend...hell, i’d do anything to make you feel happy,” he chuckled. “I honestly never thought I stood a chance with lady as beautiful as you, always comin to see me in those perfect dresses.” 

You shuddered at the thought of him noticing you in your dress, wondering what you were wearing underneath, how the fabric would feel against his skin…

“Y/n!” yelled Lauren. 

You both perked up, not realizing how close your faces had gotten in your conversation. You became acutely aware of the smoke coming your way in contrast to the scent of Clyde’s body coming closer to yours. You turned to face Lauren, walking with Jimmy’s friend. 

“Yes, Lauren?”

~

@callmehopeless​...because I LOVE annoying you with attention

[janetsvandyne]

kinktober day 2: begging

yeah this is a fun one. basically i built it into the “Lights On” universe that my lovely pal is writing and well yeah. there’s a longer version on AO3 with some more backstory but for now... enjoy the begging.

The pounding on her door was what woke her. It was heavy and insistent and authoritative and sent a cold knife of anxiety straight into her heart. Whatever this was, whoever this was, it couldn't be anything good.

At some point in her sleep, Rey had kicked off her oil stained jeans, leaving her clad in just hole-ridden panties and her greasy, oversized work shirt. Under normal circumstances, she would have grabbed some sweatpants, but the knocks at the door were louder and louder with every passing moment, and the clock burning 3:27am into her retinas makes her run to the door to avoid this guest waking her neighbors.

She didn’t check the peep hole, simply unlocked the door and opened it, and she regretted it as she saw who had ripped her from sleep. A middle aged man, perhaps a decade or two older than Rey herself, stood before her, his black uniform and silver badge immediately signaling his status as a police officer. She squeaked slightly and took a step back.

“Rey Niima?”

“That’s… that’s me. Can I— Can I help you, Officer?”

Her voice shook and she was uncomfortably aware of the expanse of skin she was showing, particularly as his eyes flicked down her body and then up again to her face.

“Officer Tritt Opan, ma’am. I need to speak with you concerning… Well, I think it’s best I come in.”

He didn’t wait for her permission, simply moved forward so quickly that Rey was forced to take another step back, allowing him across the threshold. He shut the door behind him with a snap and turned a thin smile on the trembling dark haired girl.

“Could I… um, can I just go get changed, Officer—“

“No need, Miss Niima. I understand this sort of attire is quite common for people in your, ah…profession.”

She blanched, color draining from her face. She had known, in the back of her head, that prostitution (and it was prostitution that Mr. Hux had forced her into, whether she liked to think of it that way or not) was illegal here, had seen the reports of sex rings being broken up on the news, but it hadn’t ever occurred to her that she could… that she could end up in trouble with the police over this.

“Oh, kriff. I… Mr… I mean, Officer Opan, I swear, I didn’t… I don’t want to be doing this, sir. I swear it. My landlord, Hux… Mr. Hux, I mean— I’m behind on rent, Officer, and he… he made me a deal and he overlooks my rent shortages if I… if I do what he says. Please, Officer, I can’t—“

Her hands shook violently and Opan put a comforting hand on her lower back, leading her towards her own shitty sofa in her own damned apartment. He sat and motioned for her to do the same and she valiantly tried to ignore how it made her baggy shirt ride up higher, exposing a strip of golden skin above her panties.

“Mr. Hux, you say? Alright, girlie, tell me what’s going on. I’m sure you know that late rent isn’t going to fly in front of a judge, especially not the one on duty tomorrow! He doesn’t like whores, no sirree…” Opan trailed off, a grimace on his lined face as he angled his body towards Rey’s shaking form.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this! It… it was just a blow job, Officer, I swear! And then another one… and then he… he said I had to do more to… to make it worth his while, because the shop— I’m a mechanic, see, and the shop, it’s been really slow lately, and then we had to shut for a week, and… Well, I wasn’t making enough money, and even trying to keep the heating off and only eating ramen— I couldn’t earn enough, Officer Opan, but I swear, I didn’t want to… to sleep with any of them!”

“And how many men would you say you’ve sucked fucked now, while you’ve been Mr. Hux’s whore?”

Opan didn’t seem phased at all, though Rey flinched at his coarse language. She twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers, tears threatening to spill over her dark lashes. “Ten, maybe? I… and… and more blowjobs, I guess. Um…” Her voice trailed off as Officer Opan hummed in understanding, though the look in his eyes was anything but. “Please, Officer… I can’t go to jail. I… Please, sir.”

Twice in less than twelve hours, prideful Rey Niima found herself begging a strange man for salvation. He could be her deliverance— maybe if she turned on Mr. Hux, told the judge everything, then they wouldn’t be so harsh on her? Maybe they’d even let her off! Her mind danced with the possibility that she could escape this life, and so caught up in the fantasy she was that she didn’t register Opan’s standing and moving towards her open bedroom door.

“Oh, um— that’s my bedroom, Officer, there’s… nothing in there, honestly, I—"

“Maker, you talk a lot, don’t you, Niima?” His voice was mild as he sat on the edge of her bed and undid his belt. His hand brushed against his holstered weapon and he gave her a meaningful look. “Now listen, sweet cheeks, you and I both know how this is gonna go. So why don’t you use that mouth for something a bit more useful than talking, and I won’t tell our mutual friend all about how you were ready to give him up to a judge, eh?”

Tears burned as they spilt over, tracking down her cheeks in wet trails. She backed up slightly, but Opan was faster, gripping her wrist and hauling her onto the bed before she could take another step. Distantly, she heard her bedroom door slam shut, and the tell tale click of the lock that Finn had helped her install during her first day in the apartment. For safety.

She certainly didn’t feel safe now.

———

“Please, Officer. Please, don’t do this. I’ll… I…”

“What, are you gonna pay me off? I know you’re skint, whore. That’s why I’m here. Mr. Hux isn’t particularly happy with your situation— paying for that part is going to cost you, Niima.”

How Hux knew about the additional loss of money, Rey didn’t know, but she let out a choked sob as Opan advanced on her. She was younger, and probably quicker, but he had his gun and a reason to arrest her— and, more importantly, he clearly knew Mr. Hux. How stupid could she be, thinking Hux would give her a night off? Especially with rent due so soon…

Calloused fingers wrapped themselves into her hair and forced her from her bed to the floor and onto her knees. “It’s not going to suck itself, girl. Get to it, and maybe I’ll even let you cum.”

There was no way out of this that ended well for her, and… and maybe if she did what Opan wanted, he would keep his word, and Hux would never know that she had spilled the beans with no prompting at all. Her fingers worked quickly, months of experience on her knees disgusting her as she grasped his briefs and tugged them down. He tutted as she made to grasp his half-erect cock, raising an eyebrow at the tear-stained girl on her knees.

“All the way off, Niima. And mind the gun, won’t you?”

So much for this being easy. She carefully tugged his uniform trousers down to around his ankles, struggling to pull them off over his shiny, black shoes. At his command, she removed those as well, and once she did so, looked up to see his shirt had joined his trousers on the floor.

“Please… Officer, please, don’t do this to me. Sir, please…”

“Maker, shut up. Get that filthy shirt off. Kriff, s’like you were raised in a fuckin’ barn. Hux’ll have to invest in better meat next time, you’re disgusting.” But being disgusting, it seemed, wasn’t much of a mood killer for Officer Opan, and before Rey could protest, her work shirt was roughly tugged up and over her head, and her one functional bra (a flimsy thing she had owned for years that had seen better days) was literally ripped apart. She found her face pressed against his weeping cock, one hand in her hair, and the other reaching down to cruelly twist one of her rosy nipples. She wretched and whined, the now-familiar scent of sweat and pre-cum filling her nostrils without her permission. “Suck.”

Her mouth opened and his cock made its way inside, pressing uncomfortably against her uvula. He wasn’t as long or as thick as Hux, or some of the other men she had taken, but his fingers were so tight in her hair that she thought he may be worse than the others. He wasn’t content to let her work herself up to it, instead using her as little more than a hole to masturbate into. Occasionally, one hand would release her hair and slap one of her perky tits, and her resulting yelp would have him groaning and holding her tightly against his groin.

“If you’re really good,” he panted, giving her a little control and allowing her to bob her head up and down his heavy cock while he spoke, “If you’re really fuckin’ good, Niima, I’ll keep the precinct away from you, understood? But only if you’re a good little slut for me, understood? Prove you want this, Niima. You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

He groaned as she redoubled her efforts, a fresh wave of tears streaking down her already wet face. Spit dribbled from her open mouth and she cupped his head with her tongue, teasing him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Surely he wouldn’t report her, turn her in, not after all of this?

“Moan like you mean it.”

And so she did, moaning as she sucked and licked at his cock, swirling her tongue around the head and trailing kisses up the large underside vein. That seemed to work, because within a minute, Opan had groaned loudly and pulled her off his dick.

“Get on the bed.”

Ice filled her belly.

“Please, Officer Opan, I—“

“Get on the bed, or I cuff you like this and take you to the precinct. Hell, I’ll even let the drunk tank play with you while I do your paperwork. Bet you’d just love that…” His eyes were cold, soulless, and Rey whimpered as she climbed up onto her bed beside him.

Every other client, every other man that Mr. Hux had made her… service, she had seen in the room downstairs, the little apartment just across from Hux’s office. To have someone in her own bed, in her own safe space… her stomach churned and she bit back a wave of nausea.

“Hands and knees, you dumb whore. I don’t want to have to look at your stupid, weepy face while I’m getting mine. Make me believe you mean it, and I’ll let you cum. If I don’t… well, you know.”

The bed beneath her shifted as her panties were, like her bra, physically torn from her shaking body. “Skinnier than I usually like ‘em, but I guess you’ll do,” he said, moments before a slaaaaap! rang through the bedroom and her ass burned like fire. She yelped, a sob and a plea for him to stop barely contained. “What do you say when I do something to you, girl? You’re a filthy whore, you deserve punishment, don’t you?”

“Th-thank you, Officer,” she stammered, heart hammering and eyes burning with unshed tears as she played the game. “P-please, I… I’m a filthy whore and I… I need to be punished. Please, Officer. Please spank me.” The words weren’t practiced, because most of her clients didn’t care to hear her speak. Instead, she did her best to improvise, responding to him and thinking back on what others had said to her instead of coming up with her own material.

The fat head of his weeping cock pressed against her folds and she sobbed as it slid through her vulva easily. Ever since Mr. Hux had started… whoring her out, she had found herself aroused so much more easily. It was less painful, to start, and afterwards… the nasty things the men had said to her while they pumped her full of their cum seemed to just burn in her gut, sending slick arousal through her veins and into her cunt each time she thought back to them.

In her mind, she knew it was just conditioning, her body reacting to repeated stimuli and associated language. But she couldn’t help but feel… She liked it. She had always liked a bit of rough play, some dirty talk, and the way they had treated her just exacerbated it.

“God, you’re so wet. Look at that, you’re absolutely gagging for it,” he murmured, slapping her ass again as he lined up with her clenching, desperate hole. She whimpered, pressing herself back against him, her cunt throbbing and longing for something to squeeze around.

“Please, Officer. P-please f-f-fuck me. I need your cock, pleas—uhhhhh,” she trailed off, the last vowel of the word lost as Opan slammed his hips against her, pistoning his cock into her wet cunt. She moaned aloud, praying she sounded realistic, enthusiastic, as Opan set a steady pace and drilled into her pussy without a care for her. Occasionally, his hand would connect with her pert ass, and she would wail like a cat in heat, back arching as the pleasure-pain spiked in her clit.

“Please, please, please, Officer… please, may I cum? Please t-touch m-me…” The words were realer with every passing moment, her clit throbbing and needy. Opan’ hand wound itself into her hair and he pulled her back, fucking into her harder and deeper as the angle changed.

“Touch you myself? You’re disgusting,” he hissed, biting at her throat like he was more animal than man. She sobbed loudly and turned it into a keening moan, only half faking the pleasure it sent rippling down her spine. “You’re a filthy whore. You want to cum on my cock, is that it? Being fucked and getting to keep a roof over your head isn’t enough for you, you need to get off as well?” He pulled her head back so he could see her properly, and she recognized the wild look in his eyes.

“Get yourself off then, slut. Cum on my cock, do it. Do it, slut!”

With a shout, he grabbed at one of her breasts, twisting the nipple again. She wailed and her hand slid down to pass fingers once, twice, three times over her clit before she felt herself fall apart, pussy squeezing his length as the tremors rolled over her. From beyond the fog of her post-orgasmic haze, she felt Opan shove her face first into the mattress with one hand, slapping her ass so hard she screamed in real pain with the other. His hips stuttered into hers as he emptied himself into her pussy, filling her with cum she had never wanted inside of her.

“Good to know all you sluts are on birth control. Don’t need some dirty bastard coming out of this,” he muttered, shoving Rey away as he withdrew his cock from her sore, wet cunt. He looked over at her and smirked slightly, picking up her work shirt and using it to clean his cock as he did so. “Rags are good enough for cleaning up whore juices, at least.”

And with that, he reached for his shirt and trousers, dressing with an efficiency that only regimented practice could achieve. Rey watched from her bed, red rimmed eyes refusing to acknowledge how his cum leaked out of her onto the defiled bedspread. This had been her safe place, her own space, and… and Hux had taken that from her, just to punish her.

“Good,” said Opan before he unlocked and opened her bedroom door. “You won’t have any more officers coming round, girl.” He moved into her living room, and she followed, using her shirt to cover herself the best she could without putting it on. It smelled of sweat and grease and cum, and she hated it.

He turned, “Oh,” he smirked at her. “Hux wants to see you in the morning. Seven am in his office. Don’t be late.”

And with that, he left, and Rey locked up behind him, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

In the distance, the clock by her bedside blared 5:42 AM into the darkness.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Author's Note: If you're wondering where Chapter 4 is, you're not going crazy. Due to the nature and formatting (it uses chatlogs and explicit content) it is not suited enough for this prude-ass site. I'm sorry to say, but if you want to read Chapter 4 (and all the way up to 7), you'll have to subscribe to my SubStar. I'm sorry, I wish there was another way, but I will have it available for even the least expensive option of $3. My sincerest apologies. Still, I think you'll still be able to grasp the story without missing too much context from Ch. 4 (our MC Alan performed a task, and was rewarded with pictures of Persephone.) I hope you can still enjoy the story below. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The White Rabbit Chapter 5 - Cockslut

I had never jerked off to the same set of pictures so many times in my life. Even when I was younger and found my Dad’s dirty magazines, my prepubescent self didn’t spank it as much as I had to the photos I’d just received from Persephone.  I spent so long staring and fapping to those pictures she sent, every inch of her was embedded into my brain. Burned into my retinas like when a TV is left on for so long that it damages the display. Hell, it probably is burned into my phone screen from being up so many times. 

She’s even more gorgeous than I imagined. It’s rare that something can live up to the hype you’ve been building up for it for so long. I pored over every pixel of her perfect body, examined the contours of her cheeks, the twinkle in her eyes, the crooks of that devious smile, the splotches of colors in her tattoos, specifically the one of the little white rabbit.

“That doesn’t mean that’s what she really looks like. She could be catfishing you” That tiny voice in the back of my head still whispered.  But I shoved that thought aside, even after the post-nut clarity hit.

I still masturbated the way she told me to. Every single time. Fingering the head of my dripping clit through my little panties with a dildo in my mouth or ass. I didn’t last long at all. I imagined her standing over me, smiling that wicked smile, laughing at me while shoving that dildo in my mouth, or pounding me in the ass with it. I finally was able to give a face to the rubber dick I’d been shoving in my holes for so long. What I wouldn’t give to have her right there next to me, doing all the things I imagined, but in reality.

Persephone didn’t talk to me for a few days. I don’t know if she had something going on, or if she was just leaving me to my own devices, to stare longingly at her photos, to imagine scenarios of her in my head. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I think it also makes subs more dependent on their Mistresses. 

Without her guiding presence, I was left with this odd sort of void. No one was telling me what to do anymore. How would I know how to “fuck my slutty little asshole” if she wasn’t there to tease and berate me with her messages?

I’m not proud of what I did in her absence. 

“Sorry, I had some things…come up at work.” She messaged after almost a whole week. 

“It’s fine.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t checking my phone every 30 seconds in hopes that she would finally respond. 

“Did you do okay while I was gone?”

“Yes Mistress.” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

“My little slut was able to handle herself?”

I guess you could say that.  “Yes Mistress.”

But something was eating at me. I didn’t know how to tell her, I didn’t know if I wanted to tell her. But this relationship—no matter how weird it was—had to be built on trust, right?

“I…i might’ve…” I typed out the next part, deleted it, then typed again. “I may have…found someone else…”

My heart was pounding as I waited for her response, but it didn’t take long. 

“Oh?”

She wanted me to elaborate. 

“Did you find a girl in real life that’ll dress you up like a sissy bitch and fuck your little butt, slut?”

I audibly scoffed at that. Like that would ever happen. 

“No I…found some other people online…”

“People? As in, more than one?”

“I…yea…”

She didn’t say anything for a while. She must have been fuming. 

“Are they girls? Or are they men?”

I felt myself flush, shriveling into myself. I felt so ashamed, not just because of what it was, but because I knew I was disappointing her. I was effectively ‘cheating’ on her. 

“Men…😞”

Nothing happened for a second, minutes, hours— or at least that’s what it felt like. Then, Persephone is typing…

It took a long time too. She must have been writing a novel. Berating me for being such a piece of shit. I finally found a girl to fulfill my dreams, and I went and blew it as soon as she stepped away for a few days. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” She said. “Did you sext with them??”

Again, I wanted to lie, but there was no denying it now. “Yes…”

“This is it. I blew it. A girl any submissive would kill for, and I let it slip away the first chance I got. 

Persephone is typing…

I was sweating, dreading what was to come. Finally, a massive text bubble hit the screen. 

“LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂”

Well…that wasn’t the response I expected. 

“You fucking WHORE!! Hahaha”

I felt a bit of tentative relief, still not quite sure how she was taking it. 

“Did I tell you you had to do that??”

“No ma’am…😥”

“But you did it anyway?”

“Mhmm.. 😣”

“You know, this is the second time you’ve done something without my permission, and it always seems to involve cock…”

She was referring to the time I used the dildos she ‘made’ me buy. She didn’t tell me to use them, she didn’t have to, I just…did it anyway. 

“Because you’re a desperate little cockslut, aren’t you?”

My immediate reaction was to deny it, the same way I’d been doing my whole life. I always told myself ‘as long as a woman was making me be a slut for men, it was fine. It’s not gay.’ But the proof was right there. Even without her around I still went out and did what I always told myself I’d never do on my own. 

“I…i think so…😩”

“I wanna hear you say it.” 

“Say what?”

“Tell me what you are.”

It took a second to register what she meant, but then it hit me like a truck.

“I’m a little cockslut…” I said. Just typing the words made me feel weird, but also weirdly arroused…

“Louder.”

I switched to all caps, “I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!”

“No no.” She replied, “I want you to make a video. Put your little panties on, get on your dildo, and start bouncing.”

I scrambled to obey, perhaps a bit too quickly. My cock was already fully erect by the time I pulled my panties up around it. I stuck the suction cup to the floor, making the rubber dick sway back and forth, squirted a generous amount of lube on the tip, worked some between my crack, pulled my panties aside, hit the video, and started recording. 

I slowly lowered myself down on it, wincing as it pressed inside my unrelaxed sphincter. There were several seconds of awkward fumbling and adjusting and lowering and gasping before it finally worked its way in and the sounds turned to sighing. 

“I’m a little cockslut,” I said softly, working the dildo further into me. 

“I’m a little cockslut.” I repeated, feeling it slide along my prostate. 

“I’m a little cockslut!” My eyes were in the back of my head. 

“I’M A LITTLE COCKSLUT!!” I practically shouted, burying the dildo all the way inside me until I was squatting down on the balls. There was no denying how good it felt to be full like that. I quickly clipped the video and sent it to Persephone. 

“Don’t stop now.” She replied. “I can see you leaking in your panties. You’re loving this!!”

She was right, my panties were soaked with precum. 

I bounced, swirled, grinded my hips back and forth. 

“How many guys did you sext with?”

I wanted to reduce the number, but I was too horny to deny it. 

“Seven” I managed to reply while still keeping rhythm. 

“Seven?! That’s more than I assigned you the other day!”

She was right. What felt like such a chore before quickly became something I craved, like a lot of things she was making me do…

The dildo felt so good. I was fully relaxed now, bouncing and taking that dick like the best of them. 

“How did it make you feel? Being a little whore for men and making them cum?”

“Like a slut, Goddess.”

“You fucking LOVED it, didn’t you?”

I did, and I told her so. 

“Show me how much you love that dick.”

I set the camera up again, putting it in selfie mode so I could see myself bounce on the cock. I needed to shave my legs, I needed to work out more, get in better shape to get a better body so I could attract more—

Oh my GOD! It felt so good. When I leaned back it hit my spot perfectly. I crab-crawled my arms backwards, putting all my weight on my hands so I could focus on gyrating my hips. 

I pulled the front of my panties to the side. I wanted her to see how hard I was. How much it made my dick swell to have something pumping in and out of my asshole. I was gonna be her little buttslut. Her little whore to pimp out like she always told me. My mind was swimming, my body was clenching, waves coursed through my legs and up to my pelvis, an immense rush came from inside my rectum and then—

The first shot caught me off guard. A huge spurt of semen flew straight up in the air. Another one went forward, spraying the floor and pretty much everything else around the room as my bouncing cock spewed like an unmanned firehose. 

It took several seconds for me to register what happened, to come off the high I just experienced. To snap back to reality, to realize this even was reality. I was still gasping for breath when I slowly slid the cock out. I sat there for a second, contemplating what just took place. 

I just had a sissygasm. 

I’d heard of it before, but I never thought it was actually possible other than by extremely practiced sissies. Professionals. Ones that knew what they were doing because they’d done it so much and so heavily enjoyed the feeling of co—

I grabbed my phone, swiping away a glob of cum that must have landed on the screen. I contemplated not sending the video to Persephone, but I had to see what she said. 

Her first several messages were a series of laughing emojiis. She even sent me an audio file of her cackling like an amused hyena. If I could have seen her face, it probably had tears of laughter leaking down the sides. 

“I knew you’d get there one day, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon!!”

I let her have her fun. Berating and humiliating and teasing me for proving what a “cockslut” I am. I don’t think there was anything I could do to deny it at that point. 

“Clean up your mess.” She finally said. 

I spent the next several minutes lapping up the many, many puddles of cum littered around the room. The thick globs refused to come up just from me tonguing it like a dog, so I had to press my lips around them and slurp it up like a dog. 

“You’re not done.” She said after I sent her the video of me gargling and swallowing some. 

I looked around for a puddle I’d missed, how had she seen something that I couldn’t?

“I’m not sure where, Goddess…?”

Was it my panties? They *were* quite wet, did she mean my panties? But she soon clarified:

“The dildo 😈” 

My stomach churned as I looked back at the rubber dick I’d just violated my ass with. “Oh Goddess…please no…”

This wasn’t me faking some sort of trepidation in order for her to have another chance to belittle me, this was genuine disgust. 

“I know it’s gross, honey. But if i’m gonna whore you out you’re going to have to get used to going ass to mouth. There are some very callous men out there…”

“Please…please don’t make me 🥺”

“I’m sorry, sissy, it has to be done. Let this be a lesson for you to keep yourself clean at all times. You need to be doing regular enemas. You never know who’s gonna stop and bend your bimbo ass over! Now get to cleaning. And don’t try to wipe it down first either, I can see the glistens of lube.”

Damn, that was my backup plan. There was no getting out of it. Well…there was. I could just stop talking to her altogether. Draw the line. Quit right here and now. But was I really going to let a dirty dildo ruin what we have? I’d probably never get this opportunity again. (Not to clean my ass juices off a fake dick—but have a powerful woman tell me what to do.)

I leaned in close, turning up my nose, trying to block out the faint, pungent smell. The fake black dick at least hid any damning streaks I may not have had the stomach to see. 

After tapping record on my phone, I tentatively opened my mouth and stuck my tongue to the tip, cringing at the taste that was probably more lube than anything else. I made a mental note to get the flavored stuff if this was going to be a regular occurance. 

A regular occurance? What was happening to me?? I went from wanting to be dominated by a stranger, to wearing panties, dirty talking creepy men, shoving dicks in my holes, and then shoving those dirty dicks back into my mouth. I never imagined wanting to be dominated would lead to me doing such depraved things. But here I was, slurping the lube off of a dick I just used to make myself cum without even touching my own dick. 

“I think you missed a spot…” Persephone said, “go deeper.”

I wonder if she enjoys this. Like genuinely enjoys watching guys in panties gag and sputter on a dirty dildos. Then again, I can think of several females I screwed over in the past that would probably pay good money for this very video. 

“Now the balls…”

If it was able to sparkle, it would have by the time I was done with it. My mouth was full of all sorts of conflicting flavors like cum, lube, and god knows what else. 

“Smack your face with it a few times, just for giggles!”

Oh how far I’d fallen. If only I had known at the time that this was only the very beginning. 

“Did you have fun?” She asked after it was all said and done. 

“Yes Goddess,” I said, even without being horny anymore, I found myself being truthful. 

“You like being my little slut?”

“YES Goddess!”

“Good. Because I have another assignment for you…”

~~To Be Continued~~

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