#every time I feel we have reach the bottom that we can't go any lower something happens

[thechantrydeservedit]

I was going through a lot of very traumatic things in my life and I go back to Tumblr just to find out about the mercenary offering to take down the government

[kunareads]

tread carefully

bestfriend!choso x reader

masterlist

wc: 4.4k

a/n: was missing my baby boy and ended up with this. it's nothing crazy but i love it lol

content: bestfriend!choso, they're drinking, friends to lovers, face sitting, raw sex, praise, they're so soft for each other

18+ please <3

you’re both tipsy. or maybe more than tipsy.

it’s hard to tell with choso—he always looks serious, always sounds deadpan, even after multiple glasses of something you can’t pronounce. even buzzed, he’s composed in a way that would be annoying if you didn’t find it sort of… hot.

right now, he’s slouched on his carpet with his back against the couch, head tilted back, eyes a little too shiny to be sober.

you’re sprawled out on the floor in front of him, giggling to yourself at something stupid he said five minutes ago—he hadn’t meant it to be funny, which only made it worse—when he speaks.

“you know what would be really good right now?”

you blink. “water?”

he frowns. “no.”

“a nap?”

“no.”

you grin. “more wine?”

he blinks at you. “tempting.”

you giggle. “okay, enlighten me.”

he stares at you for a beat. then with the kind of low, serious sincerity generally reserved for life-or-death situations:

“sit on my face.”

you go silent. what the fuck did he say?

choso doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink. “i’d be so good to you.”

you laugh—not mocking, just completely caught off guard. “you’re so drunk.”

“yeah,” he admits, unable to keep his lips from curling at the sound. “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

your heart skips. you can't tell if he’s joking. he sounds like he might be, but he looks so sincere.

“i think about it all the time. how you’d sound, how you’d taste. how soft you’d be if i got you to relax on me.”

his voice goes a tiny bit lower.

“you could use me as long as you wanted.”

and for the first time tonight, you forget how to laugh.

your pulse stutters as something hot and heavy blooms in your stomach. you weren’t ready for that.

he must see the change in your face, because his tone softens further, like he means it but doesn’t want to scare you. “you don’t have to.”

he leans back again, gives you the space to say no, to make it a joke, to brush it off. it’s an out, but you’re realizing with startling clarity that you don’t want it. then, after a beat:

“just, if you want to. i want you to.” you watch his throat work as he swallows. “really want you to.”

he drags a hand through his hair, face flushed all the way to his ears. it’s the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him—shirt bunched at the waist, legs spread loose, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip like he can taste you in the air.

he’s still choso. still your best friend. but he’s never looked at you like this. have you been missing it the whole time?

you press your palms to the floor. “you’re serious.”

he nods. “i want you.” a pause, a tiny smile. “we can blame the wine later if it gets weird.”

you rise onto your knees. not a decision exactly—more like your body answering something wordless, drawn forward by his voice.

his hands twitch when you move, but he waits for you to crawl into his space. your knees press into the carpet as your thighs slide between his and his breath hitches when you settle between his legs.

god, you think, throat tight. he meant it. every word.

because he’s watching you now like it’s killing him not to reach—like touching you before you ask might ruin it.

you brace against his shoulders. he’s warm and solid under your hands.

“you mean it?” you murmur, looking at him and suddenly feeling very vulnerable. please say yes.

his hand rises, hesitates. it lands on the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“yeah.” he leans in, slow enough that you could stop him, but you don’t. “let me take care of you?”

your chest aches from how much you want to let him.

“okay,” you whisper. “yeah. okay.”

his exhale is almost a groan, something that sounds like thank god and thank you tangled up in one breath.

a hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. the other settles on your thigh, spreading his palm there like he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re real and you’re here and you said yes to him.

you lean in before he does. it’s instinctive, like you’ve done it a million times despite this being the first—forehead to forehead, noses brushing, both of you breathing the same air.

he tilts his chin and his mouth catches yours.

it’s not rushed or messy. it’s careful and soft and devastating in how tender it is. he kisses you like he’s savoring you, and you can’t help but be a bit caught off-guard by it. your hands move down to his chest, then back up to his shoulders before settling behind his neck.

you sigh into him and he swallows it down, fingers gripping tighter at your thigh. the kiss deepens, careful and sweet, and you get the sense that he’s been wanting this for longer than he lets on. you’ve never been kissed like this.

his hands move like he’s scared to miss anything.

the one at your thigh drifts upward, tracing the edge of your shorts as the other slips down to your waist, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

he barely moves away, lips brushing yours as he murmurs, “can i take this off?”

you nod and shift enough to raise your arms. the drag of his knuckles across your stomach as he lifts the fabric isn’t on purpose, you don’t think, but it leaves your skin buzzing anyway. when it’s gone, he tosses it aside without looking away from you once.

his gaze trails down and back up, and when he meets your eyes again, his face is softer than before. hazy around the edges, drunk on you now.

“you okay?”

you nod. you feel it everywhere—the ache of wanting, the weight of being wanted. in your chest, your stomach, the insides of your thighs. “yeah.”

he leans forward again, kissing the space below your jaw, then lower, to the hollow above your collarbone. his hands drift to the top of your shorts.

“can i?” he whispers against your neck.

you nod, already breathless. “please.”

both hands move now. he leans back to give himself room and hooks his thumbs into the waistband. it’s clumsy because of the angle—because you’re straddling him and he won’t stop touching you long enough to do it properly. you lift yourself, and he takes the chance to drag them off one leg at a time.

you settle back into his lap. not fully, but enough that your hips brush and he inhales sharply. you like the sound, want to hear it again, so you press your body down a bit, and the breath punches out of him like he’s been hit.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

you lean in and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, trailing to the spot below his ear. “that bad?” you murmur.

“worse,” he breathes.

you smile at that, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “you said i could use you.”

he nods, letting his hands slide down to rest on your ass. “meant it.”

you shift again in his lap and hear his groan, muffled against your shoulder, as he presses a kiss there.

“can i lie back for you?”

you nod. he leans away just far enough to turn and ease himself down, elbows first, until he’s flat against the floor.

he looks up at you, eyes hazy and wide, chest rising in shallow breaths. his hands find your thighs again, light at first—thumbs tracing right above your knees—then firmer, sliding up like he’s checking if you’re really going to let him have this.

you follow without speaking. your palms meet the floor beside his head, steadying yourself as you move forward.

his breath catches when you settle above him. you hesitate, hovering. his fingers flex against your thighs like he’s holding back from pulling you down. he won’t do it—not unless you ask—but he wants to.

“you’re sure?” he asks.

you nod fast, the heat between your legs threatening to burn you. “please.”

that’s what does it. he pulls you down gently and you follow, guided by the look in his eyes—the way they go half-lidded when you brush his mouth, the way his hands tighten at your hips like he’s scared you’ll float away.

and when you finally, finally lower yourself fully, he groans like it’s the first real breath he’s taken all night.

a kiss first. one, then another, open-mouthed and needy. his tongue flicks out, gentle and sure, and your whole body shudders.

his mouth is hot, tongue moving slow—so slow—easing you into it. but there’s a hunger in the way he’s licking at you, trying to memorize you.

you don’t mean to roll your hips, but you do a little.

his hands flex hard around your thighs—one of them shakes—and he groans. it’s muffled, desperate, and it sends a bolt straight through your spine.

and after that, it’s like something inside him snaps.

he moans into you, loud and helpless, and his mouth opens wider, tongue working up a sloppy pace, chasing something out of reach.

his nose presses against your clit as his tongue drags up through you again and again, messier every time, and he doesn’t care what it looks like. he’s not even thinking, just tasting and moving on instinct.

“choso,” you sigh. “fuck—”

he doesn’t stop or slow down, only moans into you louder. his grip tightens until it hurts, and he ruts up into nothing, mouth moving more insistently like his name in your mouth broke him open.

you rock against him again and he follows, shifting on the floor to chase your movements. it’s messy, all slick and spit and heat, and his eyes flutter open like he’s been dragged out of a dream just to look at you.

you brace one hand on the carpet, the other tangling in his hair without thinking. his response is immediate—a deep, needy sound that hits you low in your core. you gasp again at the way his hands tremble where they hold you. he’s not trying to tease you, and he’s not dragging it out. he’s lost in it—messy and hungry, worshipful and gone.

“you’re—fuck—” your voice breaks, breath breaking on a moan. “you’re so—fuck, choso—”

you start moving. tentative at first, grinding into his mouth, chasing the flicks of his tongue, the sounds he gives you. his hands slip down your thighs and back up to your waist before one leaves you, searching the floor next to his head until he finds your hand.

you meet his eyes. his mouth parts wider as you roll your hips again, tongue flattening against you like he’s offering himself up.

he nods. permission.

and it undoes you.

you intertwine your fingers with his as your hips find a rhythm. you grind again, more insistently, and feel him moan into you, tongue pressing firmer, chasing you like he might cry if you stop.

“fuck—choso—”

he nods again, brows furrowed, humming small mhms into you. yes. yes, keep going.

so you do.

you ride his face like it’s the only thing you can do. your pace builds up tight, hot and unbearable, and he just takes it. mouth open, tongue slick and starving for everything you give him.

you keep your eyes on him. the way he looks at you renders you breathless—glassy eyed and worshipful and ruined. like he can’t believe you’re real and on top of him and letting him have this.

you cum hard, your body unraveling as he groans so loud it borders on obscene. everything in you pulses—deep and warm and too much. but he doesn’t stop. his whole face is soaked, but he keeps licking and sucking you like he’s not done yet.

“choso—” you gasp, voice trembling. your thighs are shaking, threatening to give out, but his hands are there, steady at your hips. his lips are swollen, his mouth open, his tongue licking slow through your folds like he wants to wring every last drop from you

“you—” he pants. “you taste so fucking good.”

your stomach flips.

you look down at him, barely able to think, and something in you aches. you want to kiss him. want to feel him. want to see him fall apart the way you did.

you want more.

you lift off his face. his hands fall away reluctantly, but his eyes stay locked on you.

you crawl down his body, chest brushing his as you go. he blinks up at you, stunned, still catching up. your hips settle above his again, meeting the tops of his thighs where his knees are raised, and when your weight drags against the bulge in his pants, he gasps.

you do it again, purposefully this time, rocking forward to press against him through the fabric. the heat of him, the tension, the way he twitches beneath you—it’s all there, and it’s all for you.

he groans, one hand clenching at your waist, the other curling against the carpet to ground himself.

“fuck—” he mutters, breath stuttering. “fuck, i’ve been—wanted this for so long.”

you lean down and kiss him before he can say more, swallowing whatever else he was about to confess. his mouth is still hot, slippery with you, and the taste makes you dizzy.

your clit throbs with every pass of pressure, and he strains beneath the fabric between you—his sweats soaked through the front, sticky with your slick and the smear of his own precum leaking through the cotton. you rock forward again, dragging over the mess, and he whimpers.

you smile into his mouth. “choso.”

he breathes your name with his eyes closed like it’s a prayer, lifting his hips to meet you halfway.

your lips move down his jaw, his neck, the hollow of his throat. you drag your fingers over the front of his shirt, the hem bunched between your hands.

“take this off.”

he moves like he’s in a haze—sitting up and pulling the shirt over his head, tossing it aside and turning so his back’s against the couch again.

you take a moment to watch him.

his hard chest rises and falls beneath you. flushed all the way down, lips bitten pink. his hair is a mess, his eyes shining.

“you’re gonna break me,” he breathes this time, and it sounds less like a joke and more like the truth.

your mouths meet again and you let your hands slide down his chest, fingers feeling the hard lines where his abs begin.

and when your hips roll again, dragging against him, he bucks beneath you, eyes fluttering shut, mouth parting to let out something between a groan and an exhale.

your body is sensitive as you move, buzzing from before, and the want lingers low in your belly, aching sharper every time your hips rock forward.

he’s so hard. his length presses right where you need it, and you both gasp at the same time—mouths brushing, breath shared.

you whisper, “do you wanna—”

he nods before you can finish. “yeah,” he murmurs. “yeah, if you do.”

you shift off of him to help with his sweatpants, both of you fumbling, fingers pulling at the strings, the waistband, pulling the fabric down his legs.

he’s flushed and leaking and thick, twitching against his stomach. you both pause, just looking.

“god, choso—”

and he laughs. “don’t look at me like that.”

“like what?”

his eyes flick up to find yours. “like that.”

you smile, a little shy. “sorry.”

he shakes his head, reaching for you. “don’t be.”

you crawl into his lap, thighs bracketing his again, and he’s so warm, cock flushed and twitching between you. your body’s reacting already, clenching around nothing.

his hands slide up to your face as you settle over him, eyes searching yours.

“you sure?” he asks. “we can stop.”

you shake your head. “don’t wanna stop.”

you reach down, guiding him to your entrance, and you both exhale when his tip slides through the mess between your thighs.

you pause, bracing yourself.

and then his hands grab your hips—tender, encouraging—and he tilts his hips up a little.

“go slow,” he murmurs. “let me feel you.”

you take your time sinking down on him inch by inch, nails pressing into the skin of his chest as he stretches you open. it's almost more than you can take. he’s thick, perfect, nearly overwhelming—but the way he holds you and whispers your name makes it easier. makes it good.

you bottom out with a gasp, thighs trembling around him, brows furrowing.

and he’s staring at you. wrecked. like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“okay?” he asks, breathing heavier now.

you nod, even though you’re hardly holding yourself together. “yeah. just—can i have a second?”

his hands stroke up your thighs and settle on your waist. “take your time.”

you breathe through it. once, twice.

you’re so full, so warm, stretched around him in a way that makes your head spin. choso doesn’t say anything else, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumbs. his chest rises hard beneath your hands, but he doesn’t move, waiting for you.

you shift your hips a little, enough to savor the drag and the way he catches against every nerve on the way out.

he whimpers. “fuck,” he breathes. “do that again.”

you do.

a shallow roll of your hips, and his hands flex at your waist, trying to stay present, like the feeling of you might knock him straight out of his body.

his grip firms. “that’s it,” he whispers. “just like that.”

you do it again, a little deeper this time, and his jaw goes slack, eyes fluttering, doing his best to hold them open just so he can watch you.

you fall into a rhythm like that, each fluid motion making the air thicker, the room smaller. the only sounds are your shared breath and the soft wet drag of your bodies moving with each other.

his head tips back with a moan. “doing so good,” he pants. “feel so fucking good, baby.”

you lean down, kissing his neck, his shoulder, the curve of his collarbone. you run your tongue along the spot by his ear and he gasps your name like it means something.

you whisper back, lips brushing his jaw: “it’s so good.”

“you’re—” he groans again, hands traveling up your back, then down to your hips, where they stay. “fuck, can’t believe it’s you.”

the next grind pulls a choked sound from him—half gasp, half groan—and you feel it vibrate through his chest where your hands are pressed.

you smile and whisper, “yeah?” like a secret.

he nods, eyes fluttering closed. “fuck—yeah.”

you press your forehead to his, keep moving. the slow grind of your hips is deeper now, messier—slick and hot and so much. every drag makes you gasp, every thrust makes him groan.

you kiss him again, mouths barely working, just panting against each other, all open breath and quiet, broken sounds.

“choso,” you whisper, breath catching and hips stuttering. “god—”

he meets your eyes then, eyes wide and glassy, mouth parted, chest rising fast. “don’t stop,” he murmurs. “please don’t stop.”

your bodies fall into something more intense now. less of a rhythm, more of a tide. you’re grinding and he’s right there with you, hips tipping up to meet every roll, like he needs to be deeper. like he’s trying to keep up, to give you everything he has.

“you’re so good,” he mumbles, almost slurred. “you’re so fucking good, you feel—” he breaks off with a moan when you grind down harder.

your clit brushes his pelvis and your body jerks. the friction sparks low and hot through your core.

“cho—” your voice cracks. “i’m—i think—”

his hands are already there, sliding up your back, one settling between your shoulder blades, the other gripping your waist, trying to ground you, trying to feel it happen.

“yeah?” he pants. “yeah?”

you nod, and he kisses you. not clean, not careful—just there, all heat and desperation, lips parting to breathe you in. his arms wrap tight around your waist, helping you move, helping you chase it, and it shatters something inside you.

“i got you,” he says, firmer now. “come on, i got you. don’t fight it, let it happen."

your cry breaks open in his mouth.

your body seizes around him, clenching tight as your orgasm rips through you—thicker and heavier than before. it floods your veins, pulls the breath out of your lungs, and he groans like it’s happening to him.

“oh shit,” he breathes, the words spilling as his hips roll up to meet you.

you’re clamping around him, still warm and wet and pulsing, and it pushes him straight over the edge.

“oh fuck,” he chokes, throat bobbing, eyes screwed shut like he can’t take it. “baby—baby, i’m—”

his voice cuts off with a loud sigh as his whole body jerks beneath you. you feel it—his hips stuttering, cock throbbing deep inside you, the way he moans through it like it’s being dragged out of him.

you hold him through it, riding it out with him, body pressed close, mouth at his temple, fingers threading through his hair as he shakes beneath you.

he moans again, softer this time. almost like a whimper. you kiss his cheek, his jaw, then the side of his throat, and whisper, “it’s okay.”

his arms wrap around you tighter like he can’t bear to let go yet, even a little. his hands move, one smoothing up your spine, the other curling at your waist, memorizing the way you fit.

you stay close, melt into him. for a while, neither of you speaks. you stay like that, breathing together, hearts hammering against each other.

his voice breaks the silence, rough and stunned and so, so soft.

“… you okay?”

you nod, forehead tucked beneath his jaw. “mhm.” you smooth a hand down his chest, feeling the way his heart stutters under your palm. “you?”

he nods. “yeah,” he says. “i just…”

he trails off. you pull back to see him, chin resting on your hand against his chest.

“didn’t think it’d be like that,” he murmurs.

you watch him for a beat. he’s not looking at you. his eyes are on the ceiling, brows drawn like he’s trying to make sense of it.

your fingers trace a line across his sternum. “what’d you think it would be like?” you ask.

his lips twitch, barely a smile. “i don’t know. i’ve thought about it,” he admits. “maybe more than i should’ve.”

the admission makes you smile, but you don’t interrupt.

“i thought it’d be good,” he continues, voice rough. “hoped it would be. just never imagined it would be like…” he trails off. “like that.”

you don’t press him to explain, don’t ask what that is. you think you already know.

you nod and lean in to kiss him again—warm now, not fevered like before. like you’re telling him me too without saying it out loud. he exhales like it’s a relief.

when you finally pull away, your breath mingling with his, you whisper, “we should probably clean up.”

he nods, but makes no move to let you go.

you smile again. “gonna let me up?”

“mm.” he tightens his arms around you. “five more seconds.”

you let him have it. your head rests on his shoulder. one of your hands finds his hair, damp with sweat, and you comb through it gently. he hums appreciatively, low in his chest. then, finally, he exhales. “okay.”

you ease off him carefully, both of you in no rush. he helps you up, walks you into the bathroom. you clean up together in the quiet way people do when they care—no fuss, no awkwardness. just hands brushing, little glances, and comfortable silence.

once you’re both back in the living room, he tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and settles into the cushions. he looks at you, hoping, but not assuming.

you go to him.

it’s easy, familiar, like it’s not the first time you’ve curled up against him like this, even though it is. his arm wraps around your waist. your head finds his shoulder. and for a while, there’s only the sound of breathing, the soft hum of night through the windows, and the weight of your bodies pressed together.

everything feels warm, safe. but part you needs to hear him say it, just to be sure.

“are we okay?”

his fingers pause for a second, then keep moving. “yeah,” he says. “of course we are.”

you pull back enough to look up at him.

“you don’t think we messed anything up?” you ask.

“no,” he says, gentle. “not even a little.”

some small, invisible knot in your chest loosens.

“okay,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything else—just pulls you closer and lets your head fall back against his chest before you can think about it too hard.

maybe it was always going to be this, you think. maybe it was never anything else.

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little Boy (Tzuyu)

My body has recently entered puberty, my hormones are surging, and I have strong sexual urges every day. As the only woman in the family, My mum, Tzuyu naturally became the object of my desire. Although our mother-son relationship is close, I still feel a little embarrassed to ask my mother to take care of my physical needs.

But every time I have an erection, Tzuyu will still considerately help me solve the problem. She would gently hold my penis with her soft hands and move it up and down slowly and rhythmically until I ejaculated on her hand. Tzuyu's technique is very skillful and she can give me the ultimate pleasure every time.

"Mom, I'm hard again..." I called softly in the room. Soon, the door opened and Tzuyu walked in with a glass of hot milk.

She sat next to me gently, stretched out her little hand and groped in my crotch for a while, and found the erect bulge without any error. I immediately felt a numbing current spread from my lower body to my whole body, and I almost screamed with pleasure.

"It's so good, Mom, you really know how to play..." I moaned, enjoying the pleasure brought by Tzuyu's nimble fingers.

A shy blush appeared on Tzuyu's face, but she still served me wholeheartedly. Soon, I sprayed a large stream of thick white turbidity into her delicate palm, letting out a low growl of satisfaction.

Tzuyu took out a few tissues to wipe the liquid on her hands, with a doting smile on her face: "If you need it in the future, remember to tell mom~"

Since I got Tzuyu's "help", I have become more and more eager for her body, and the frequency of erections is as high as several times a day. Although Tzuyu was initially worried about whether my body could handle it, she could not refuse my requests.

Gradually, Tzuyu completely let go of her bottom line at my request. At first she would serve me in her underwear, but soon she couldn't resist my begging. She stripped naked and knelt in front of me, using her naked breasts and thighs to rub me to orgasm one after another.

Tzuyu's soft skin slid across my crotch, arousing waves of pleasure. I couldn't help but knead her round and erect nipples. Tzuyu groaned, but she focused more on swallowing my cock. Soon I reached climax with a long cry, and poured all the white fluid into Tzuyu's little mouth.

"Mom, you are so powerful...I will not be willing to cum until I cum in your mouth..." I gasped, watching the way Tzuyu's throat squirmed.

Tzuyu wiped away the spilled residue from the corner of her mouth and gently stroked my chest: "Good boy, of course mommy will give you the best things~ Just tell me where you want to ejaculate in the future."

"Hmm... I want to cum underneath you..." I couldn't help but fantasize, looking at Tzuyu's pink petals glowing with water, just waiting for me to come.

Tzuyu was shocked after hearing this, and then blushed: "How is this possible! We are mother and son..."

"But mom, you can even let me penetrate your mouth..." I said aggrievedly, and inserted my fingers into Tzuyu's vagina, feeling the moisture and tightness inside.

Tzuyu bit her lip, obviously there was a war in her heart.

Tzuyu was silent for a moment, and finally made up her mind: "Baby, I know you are in full swing right now, but I really can't accept letting you go in there... That's mommy's final bottom line."

I was eclipsed, but Tzuyu immediately added: "But apart from there, mom can let you play anywhere else... just like now..."

After saying that, Tzuyu moved her body and opened her two plump thighs in an M shape, with the pink petals clearly visible. My eyes lit up, and I immediately leaned down and hugged Tzuyu's thigh and started sucking hard.

Tzuyu screamed, her slender fingers embedded deeply into the sheets, letting me use the tip of my tongue to wreak havoc on her sensitive clitoris. Soon, the sparkling love juice flowed out from Tzuyu's lower body and wet my lips and tongue.

"Ahhh... good son... you lick mommy so well... go a little deeper... yes... right there..." Tzuyu kept moaning, my lips and tongue were in her private parts Lingering, bringing wave after wave of climax.

When Tzuyu's screams gradually subsided, I raised my head and saw that Tzuyu's pussy was already covered in mud. I eagerly held my cock and pressed it between Tzuyu's thighs.

Tzuyu seemed to understand my intention and hurriedly stopped me: "Wait...you can’t put it in!"

"Don't worry, I'll only fuck your thighs." I replied with a smirk, then straightened my waist and pushed my penis deep into Tzuyu's soft thigh flesh.

"Oh——" I gasped, this feeling was more refreshing than I imagined. Tzuyu's thighs are white and tender, with a delicate and smooth skin surface, but the inner muscles are elastic, wrapping my body tightly. With every thrust, Tzuyu would moan softly, the sound that sounded like pain but not painful was sultry.

"Baby...slow down...mom's leg is going to be broken..." Tzuyu begged, but I didn't care, and speeded up my movements, only focusing on my own pleasure.

Seeing that the she could not stop me, Tzuyu simply gave up resistance and concentrated on clamping the roots of her thighs. I immediately felt an unprecedented sense of oppression. Tzuyu 's thigh flesh was like a living thing, tightly wrapping my penis in it. With every thrust, I screamed out in pleasure and almost burst out between Tzuyu's thighs.

At the same time, my glans was rubbing against Tzuyu's labia again and again. The two petals were already wet with my semen, and now they were like two thick flesh lips adsorbed on my front, making me even more excited.

"Ah - Mom, you are really good at playing..." I yelled in a daze, while Tzuyu was trembling with my impact. More honey flowed out of her vagina and wetted our intercourse parts.

The feeling of being wrapped in her clit made me crazy. I grabbed Tzuyu's ankles and pulled her legs further apart. Tzuyu understood, she let out a sweet cry and clamped her thighs tightly, trapping my whole body inside. All my weight was focusing on the clone. I was so happy that I raised my head and let out a long sigh.

Tzuyu's thighs were like a tight paradise, tightly wrapping my penis, and every inch of the texture was rubbing against the most sensitive parts. The position of my glans was just stuck between Tzuyu's slightly open petals. Every time I straightened my waist, it rubbed against her most private entrance.

"Mom, you are really good at playing... If you keep going like this, I will cum all over your legs..." I tried my best to hold myself up so as not to be squeezed too tightly by Tzuyu's thighs and cause me to climax directly.

But Tzuyu smiled proudly as if she had been praised: "Isn't that exactly what you want? Good boy, keep fucking mom's thighs..."

After saying that, Tzuyu tightened her thighs again, and my penis was trapped in them and there was no way to escape. Tzuyu's petals kept squeezing my glans, and my tips soon secreted precum, which mixed with Tzuyu's honey, making our intercourse smoother.

"Oh - I'm going to die... Mom, your clit sucks me so much... deeper... I want to fuck them all in..." I thrust wildly, attacking again and again. The whole tips was swallowed by Tzuyu 's clit.

Tzuyu also followed my movements and swung her waist, cooperating with me to fuck her thighs. Her juice flowed non-stop, soaking the sheets.

I was so stimulated by Tzuyu's soft thighs that I lost my mind. I raised my waist and pushed deeper again and again. My glans kept rubbing against Tzuyu's clitoris and sex center, eliciting sweet moans from her.

Tzuyu's thighs seemed to have a life of their own, tightly clinging to my body. Whenever I pulled out, Tzuyu would relax a little, and then she would tighten when I thrust in. The contrast brought me so much pleasure that I was soon on the verge of ejaculation.

"Mom... I'm about to cum... loosen up a little..." I gasped and begged for mercy, but Tzuyu smiled coquettishly and squeezed her thighs tighter: "Cum... cum all over Mom. On the legs..."

I fucked Tzuyu's thighs like crazy. Every time my glans connected with Tzuyu's petals, a deadly wave of pleasure swept through my body. I don't even need to actually penetrate Tzuyu's pussy, just relying on this position can give me supreme pleasure.

Tzuyu felt the cock between her thighs begin to twitch, and she immediately understood that I was about to cum. Instead of relaxing, she clamped her thighs tighter, vowing to squeeze me dry until every drop was left.

"Baby son... don't mommy's thighs feel so good... you are just a little bit close to being able to penetrate mommy's real hole... Do you want to try it?" Tzuyu teased me wildly, then such obscene language directly pushed me to bliss.

My sanity finally completely collapsed at this moment. I grabbed Tzuyu's buttocks and thrust hard. Every time I thrust in, My tips was fully swallowed by her clit. Tzuyu 's labia were stretched to the maximum by my penis, and the pink petals almost turned white under the rapid friction.

"Ah... I'm going to cum... Mom, you're so good at sucking... I'm going to... Oh - I'm going to cum... Mommy, I'm going to cum -" I stiffened and yelled At the climax, Tzuyu's thighs clamped down on me, and my penis exploded in her thighs. White hot water spurted out from the eyes, all of which ejaculated on Tzuyu's body.

"Mommy...I cum for you..." I was exhausted and fell on Tzuyu's body. Tzuyu felt my orgasm and tightened her grip even more, making my ejaculation last longer. She stroked my sweaty back, and at the same time teased me verbally: "Baby... you fuck me so much that I'm so satisfied... cum more... fill mommy's legs..."

These words directly hit my vitality. I was so happy that my whole body was shaking, and the amount of ejaculation was far greater than usual. Tzuyu 's thighs were soon covered with my semen, and some even seeped into her petals.

Tzuyu laughed and let me cum all over her thighs and belly. She wiped some of the white turbidity with her fingers and put it in her mouth, savoring my taste.

"Baby son, mommy drank your milk, it's so delicious~" Tzuyu said, looking at me with seductive eyes. My penis that had not yet faded became hard again under her sight. It seemed that there were more good shows to be performed tonight...

I looked at Tzuyu, her expression was both intoxicated and proud, as if everything that just happened was just a trivial game. A ridiculous idea came to my mind, so I raised my penis again and pressed it against Tzuyu's thigh.

Tzuyu's eyes widened in surprise, and I couldn't wait to start thrusting. The penis I had just ejaculated was still very sensitive, and Tzuyu's thighs were so beautiful, I was quickly aroused again.

"Baby...you still want to come?" Tzuyu was a little flattered, and then she smiled very charmingly: "Then mom will play with you to the end..."

Tzuyu tightened her thighs again, and we seemed to be in an endless obscene game.

I grabbed Tzuyu's waist and thrust hard, as if I wanted to crush her under my penis. Tzuyu was knocked forward and backward by my offensive, and her breasts kept shaking in front of her chest. Her clit was also crushed by me again and again, causing more honey to flow out.

"Ah...baby...you are too cruel...Mom can't bear it anymore..." Tzuyu gasped and grabbed my arms with both hands for support. However, her legs tightened tighter and tighter, as if she wanted to completely confine my penis between her legs.

My scalp was numb from the stimulation of Tzuyu's tight legs, and a trace of precum leaked out of my tips again. I knew I was on the verge of losing control and could only sprint harder to reach climax as quickly as possible.

"Mommy, I'm almost there... Your legs squeeze me so much..." I groaned, my waist twitched a few times for the last time, and then my penis twitched, and I ejaculated a thick white fluid.

Tzuyu felt my ejaculation and actually increased the strength of her legs, as if she wanted to squeeze out the last drop of my essence. I roared, reaching an unprecedented peak of bliss, and my whole body went limp, except for my clone, which was still as hard as iron and embedded between Tzuyu's legs.

We stayed in this position, Tzuyu gently stroking my hair with a doting smile on her lips. Her legs were already covered with my bodily fluids, and the white turbidity mixed with her own vaginal fluids formed an extremely lustful picture.

Tzuyu held my face and kissed my lips. The tip of her tongue slipped into my mouth and swam around like a little snake. "Good baby... Mom is very satisfied... Your performance is even better than before..." Tzuyu licked the saliva from the corner of my mouth, her tone full of doting.

I kissed Tzuyu back and wrapped my arms around her neck. My fingers searched her back and soon found her anus. I pressed it as if to be a prank, causing Tzuyu to exclaim.

"You bad boy! Don't touch there..." Tzuyu was ashamed and angry, but the next second she was blocked by another passionate kiss from me.

I grabbed Tzuyu's hips and turned her over to face me. Tzuyu lay down knowingly and opened her legs wide, revealing the petals inside that were red from my fucking. There was a hunger in her eyes, expecting me to take her again. She seems forget about she is not allowing me to enter her.

I held my penis and pressed it against Tzuyu's entrance. Under Tzuyu 's gaze, he slowly pushed in, feeling the tightness and moisture in her cavity. It’s the first time I entered my mum, and the heat and tight nearly get me cum instantly.

"Hmm...slow down...it's too thick..." Tzuyu bit her lip and moaned, looking at me with surrender written all over her eyes.

I leaned down and kissed Tzuyu, my penis going deeper into her body. It wasn't until I was completely submerged that I raised my head and saw that Tzuyu had closed her eyes in confusion.

"Baby... move..." Tzuyu invited enthusiastically. I couldn't bear it anymore and immediately started to play with her pussy aggressively.

My penis quickly shuttled in and out of Tzuyu 's honey hole, reaching the deepest point every time. Tzuyu 's whole body trembled due to my impact, and her heart kept secreting new nectar.

"Hmm... baby... go deeper... I'm going to be penetrated by you..." Tzuyu moaned wildly, hooking her legs around my waist and rocking her hips back and forth in line with my progress.

I was so aroused by Tzuyu's wild performance that I lost my mind and fucked her pussy even harder. Tzuyu 's body was warm and wet, tightly wrapping around my body. A large amount of clear mucus leaked from the place where our genitals met, soaking the sheets underneath her.

"Mom...you know how to suck...I'm going to cum..." I gasped and growled. After hearing this, Tzuyu accelerated her hips, and her pussy kept squirming, as if she wants to squeeze me dry.

"Then cum... cum all for mommy..." Tzuyu 's eyes were confused, and her lips were soaked with her own body fluids. I couldn't bear it anymore, so I suddenly increased my speed, and with one final hard blow, my penis was buried deeply inside Tzuyu, and at the same time, white turbidity surged out, completely filling her cervix.

Tzuyu felt my ejaculation, her whole body stiffened, and then she shuddered like a spasm. She screamed loudly, reaching the highest peak of lust. The two of us climbed to the top together, the aftermath of our climax lingering for a long time.

After the climax, I held Tzuyu in my arms and lay on the bed with her. Tzuyu 's fingers still stayed on my back garden, as if exploring some novel territory.

"Baby... you are such a genius... you bring mommy unexpected surprises every time..." Tzuyu whispered in my ear, and I felt a sense of pride well up after hearing it.

I kissed Tzuyu's neck and stretched my hands to her breasts. Soon, Tzuyu's nipples stood erect in the palm of my hand. My fingers twisted the two sensitive protrusions from time to time, causing Tzuyu to gasp softly.

"Baby... don't... Mom was about to die just now... Let mom take a rest now..." Tzuyu begged, but I knew she was not satisfied yet.

I turned over and pressed on Tzuyu, with my once more erect penis pressed against her entrance. Tzuyu was taken aback, but quickly faced me resignedly.

"Then let mommy see... what else my little boy is capable of..." Tzuyu smiled seductively. I couldn't hold it in any longer and penetrated her hard.

We started another round of passionate sex and fell asleep late at night.

Since that affair with Tzuyu at home, the erotic relationship between us has become increasingly widespread. Whenever my father was not at home, Tzuyu would always find various excuses to pull me to her room, and then she could not wait to unbutton my pants, and use her charming little mouth and hands to push me to the peak of bliss.

Even when my father was at home, Tzuyu would take the opportunity to tease me, such as secretly touching my inner thighs with her hands, or blowing and whispering in my ear to make me hard. Whenever this happens, I can't help but push Tzuyu down on the bed and cum everything for her.

Gradually, I found that my body was increasingly unable to bear Tzuyu's enthusiasm. I often felt pain in my back and lacked physical strength.

Tzuyu didn't seem to be aware of my physical troubles. Whenever she had a chance, she would grab me and ask me to help her reach climax. Several times I woke up in the middle of the night and found myself covered in Tzuyu's bodily fluids, and the sheets were in a mess.

But every time I face Tzuyu's temptation, I can't refuse her, because her body is the strongest aphrodisiac to me. A look from her could turn me on, a whisper from her could arouse my lust. I fell deeply into this twisted lust. I knew it was an immoral relationship, but I couldn't extricate myself, and I can give everything for her.

"Baby... Mommy wants you again... Come and help mommy vent her lust..." Tzuyu's voice was charming and sweet, and my penis instantly became engorged with blood and stood straight up.

"Mom...I've ejaculated several times today...my body just can't take it anymore..." I begged with a wry smile, but my hands began to caress Tzuyu's breasts involuntarily.

"Then let mom see how powerful my little baby is..." Tzuyu smiled and opened her legs, revealing her already wet private parts.

My reason completely collapsed at this moment, and only animal desires dominated all my actions. I rushed forward and got entangled with Tzuyu,

"Baby...come on...Mom is about to climax again..." Tzuyu twisted her waist, kneading her breasts with one hand, and thrusting into my backcourt with the other.

"Mom...wait a minute...I just cum..." I gasped and begged, but Tzuyu ignored my pleas and just urged me to penetrate her pussy again.

I could only reluctantly follow the instructions and enter Tzuyu's body again. The two of us are entangled together, as if there is only each other left in the world, and everything else has nothing to do with us.

[yapperblog]

In the middle of the night

Joost x reader on a tour bus

EXPLICIT RPF BELOW, +18

Tour bus bunk beds are a tight fit as it is, especially when you share one with your 6'2" boyfriend. You don't join him for the whole tour and had a choice to sleep in your own bunk bed, but both of you sleep so much better in each other's embrace, so it is no issue at all sharing a small space.

You yawn and say your goodbyes to the other guys on the bus, off to get ready for sleep. You have huge FOMO when you go to sleep earlier than the rest of the group, it's a mystery how they can stay up so late after a show and then do it all over again the next day. Tonight however you feel too tired to keep up.

All settled in your shared bunk bed, you turn off the overhead small light and get ready to sleep, when you feel the small curtain open up. "It's me." Joost whispers and lays down next to you. Curling up behind you, his chest pressed to your back. He smells of his body wash and minty toothpaste.

"Hi." you turn your head, searching for his lips in the dark. He leans in for a kiss, his lips familiar on yours. His hands wrap around your waist, sighing into your mouth as he presses himself even closer to you.

You separate from each other, laughing when he nuzzles into your neck, squeezing you tight. You turn back to face the wall, the smell of him and feeling safe in his arms lulling you to sleep immediately.

"Good night. Love you" he says, his breath tickling your neck. Your legs tangled under the shared blanket.

"Good night. Love you more." you say back.

"No, love you more."

"Love you more multiplied by an infinite number."

"Love you multiplied by the biggest number and there is no bigger one."

"Love yo-"

"Shut the fuck up, love birds." you hear Parsa yell from the next bed. You both erupt in laughter.

"Love you, Parsa." you say, still laughing.

"Love you." he replies. "Sweet dreams."

All of Joost's friends have welcomed you with a warm embrace into their circle. You remember how nervous you were to meet them all at first, but they already heard so much about you, because Joost truly can't stop talking about you every chance he gets. They already loved you, before they even saw you, knowing how happy you make Joost.

You slowly wake up feeling a bunch of little kisses being pressed into the side of your face, the back of your neck. "What time is it?" you reach to check your phone. The light of the screen making you squint. It's just past 3am, a few hours after you both fallen asleep.

Joost continues to kiss all over your face, "I need you." he whispers, leaving wet kisses along your jaw and lowering to your neck. "Need you so bad." his voice low, saturated with lust. You can feel he is hard, pressed against your ass, rutting without any rhythm. His hands are slowly roaming over your body, his need seeping into you too, even half-asleep you want him.

"What if someone hears us?" you ask quietly. Joost opens the curtain, sticking his head out slightly to check if anyone is up. There is a constant loud hum of the bus moving, rattling of misplaced objects against the cabinets and snoring coming from the other bunk beds.

He closes the curtain, settling next you again. Faint light from your phone laying somewhere in the blanket lighting up his face. "If we stay quiet, chances are high they won't know a thing." he says, a smirk on his face.

"Can you stay quiet though?" you poke at him.

He smiles and leans in closer to you. You match his toothy grin and sit up as much as the tight space allows you to take off your shirt and wrap your arms around his neck bringing him closer to you. He is holding himself up on one forearm, mostly laying on top of you, kissing you deep, both of you being very aware of the surroundings still, trying to keep the volume down to the minimum. His lips feel good on you, he licks your bottom lip and you open your mouth for him, he groans and you tug at his hair to remind him to be quieter. "Fuck." he comes up for air. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."

"Let's just be quick." you whisper, trying to keep any sounds to the minimum.

"Lay down on your side, baby." he gives you a quick kiss on the lips, and you turn around to your initial position – your back to his chest. One of his arms sneaks underneath your body, both of his hands on your tits, he tugs and twists your nipples softly and you have to fight the urge not to moan, only a quiet sigh slipping past your lips when he continues his ministrations. You arch your back, pressing your ass into his crotch urging him to get to work. He kisses your shoulder and moves one of his hands between your legs. "So wet already." he whispers into your ear, biting on your earlobe gently as his fingers slide easily on your clit.

You slide your pyjama pants down your legs, giving him more access. His fingers keep exploring, spreading your wetness around, you bite down on your lip when his finger dips inside. He sets a steady pace, after a moment he puts in a second finger, curling them just right, finding that spot, where he knows will drive you crazy. His insistent fingers and soft kisses on your neck and jaw get you closer and closer to release. You miss his voice, he is always so loud, talking you through it or confirming how good it feels for him when you take control. But now you have to keep quiet, so instead you search for his lips, to feel him close in other ways. He sighs into your mouth, pushing his tongue to meet yours. He speeds up his fingers, his thumb petting at your clit, and you are thankful for his mouth on yours, as he helps you silence your whimper. His hips grinding into you, you feel he is rock hard. You have to separate, looking into his eyes, "I'm close, Joost." you whisper. "I want to cum with you, please."

He nods and you help him pull down his underwear, just enough to take out his cock. Reddened tip weeping pre cum, you grind his tip into your palm making him drop his mouth open, a small little whimper comes out, but you hear it. He puts the fingers which were inside you a second ago into his mouth, sucking greedily.

"Wish I could eat you out right now." he kisses you and you taste yourself on his tongue. "We need to book a hotel soon."

You kiss him more in agreement. He hooks a hand under your knee, spreading you open for him. He looks down, jerking himself a few times before moving closer to you, lining himself up. He swipes his sensitive tip through your folds, teasing your clit every time it passes, finally pushing into your wet hole. You loose yourself in the moment, moaning into the silent night, his hand is quick to cover your mouth, pressing tight. "Shh, baby. I know I know." he kisses your temple, while pushing in further. One hand holding your leg, the other clamped around your mouth keeping you quiet. His own breathing is laboured, whimpers threatening to spill out, so he keeps kissing your skin, anywhere he can reach.

"Keep your legs open for me." he says and you do. His hand moves to your hip, as he adjusts his position rocking into you. Your gummy walls suck him in greedily, inviting him deeper and deeper. He enters fast and pulls out slow, keeping this pace up, getting you both closer to orgasm, while your eyes roll into your head at how good it feels – the proximity, it feels like he is all around you, his heavy breathing in your ear, he feels so big inside, his hand keeping you quiet from sobbing out. He switches it up with grinding into you, when he is fully inside. You feel his hand press into lower stomach, as he feels himself move inside. You clamp down on him at the feeling and he has to bite down on your shoulder in an attempt to silence himself. The sudden sensation sends you over the edge, you throw your head back into his shoulder, your eyes closed, thankful for his hand around your mouth or the entire bus would have heard you and you would never live it down.

He feels you gush around him, his grip on your hips tightens, leaving fingerprints. You feel it – the heat of him, the way his cock twitches inside you, how his grip tightens. "I love you." He slams into you one last time – hot flood inside you, painting your insides white. He gives you the last few thrusts, licking and kissing at your shoulder where he bit down. Overstimulation hits both of you and you wiggle away knowing you won't be able to stay silent anymore. Both of you lay still catching your breath, the sounds around coming back, you hope you were quiet enough not to disturb anyone.

"I think we are clear." Joost says behind you, as he pulls out and reaches for the pack of tissues to clean you up.

"Hope so." you cuddle back up next to him after you are both decent.

"We really need to book a hotel at the next stop."

[skippingstonez]

yeah yeah very nice and all the legend stuff and sky's upcoming stuff, but imagine riding warriors so hard and so well that he ends up whinning like the pillow princess we all know he is, like, i look at him and I just want to please him until I ruin his pretty boy face with tears of pleasure<3

Not gonna lie I wrote this like 6 different times cause something just kept feeling off. Turns out you just gotta get out of the forest every once in a while <3

Take a Seat

(Wars x Reader) Warnings: Self-explanatory smut with Wars having a boner basically the whole time. <3 Also a small tidbit of non-con touching.

“Watch out!!”

Wars quickly rolled out of the way, a large boulder crashing into the ground where he just was. The whole room shaking violently as he raises his shield, covering himself as more fiery stones rain down on him, threatening to crush him where he stands. He planted his feet, digging his heels into the rocky soil and using both hands to firmly keep the shield up as he tried to look for the others.

A sharp cry rang out and his feet started moving before he even knew who it was that had yelled. Through the flames he could see you crouched low on the ground, struggling to keep your shield over you as one of the larger rocks slammed down on you. Knees shaking as you fought to stay upright against the heavy weight before it hit the ground beside you. With a clear destination, he reached you in record time, sliding in next to you as he yanked you into his chest, shoving his shield up next to yours to create a larger barrier of protection over your heads. 

“Are you hurt”

You shake your head, trying to make yourself as small as possible next to him as you both wait out the pseudo-storm that ends as quickly as it started. 

Wars lowers his shield cautiously, helping you back up to your feet as a fire keese makes a dive for him. You quickly notch an arrow, shooting it down before Wars can get his sword back in his hands.

“Gods I can't wait to be done with this place!” Wars groans out, wiping sweat off of his forehead. “And if I have to see another one of those blasted bats I'm throwing myself in the lava!”

You snort at his dramatics, “You mean to say our mighty Captain can't take a bit of heat?”

Wars gives you his best smile, holding up his left hand that you knew had the large scar underneath. “Oh don't worry doll face, I'm hot enough for this whole mountain.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a playful shove as Wind calls you from across the room. “Come on guys! We found the exit!”

Everyone is quick to follow the young sailor along with Hyrule who lead you to the large exit in the other room. The midday sun stinging your eyes as you all crawl your way out from the depths of Death Mountain. Soot and dirt filled the air still far too warm for comfort. The only true reprieve being that there is no longer any active threat of being caught on fire or tripping into lava.

Layers of clothing were immediately pulled off the moment the opportunity presented itself. Cloaks and armour being the first things to go, followed by tunics, metal jewelry, shirts and any other fire protective clothing that was no longer needed

Bottoms stayed on. A hard and fast rule Time had set after a rather embarrassing incident a few weeks back that only some members of the chain were ever able to laugh about. Pants were exchanged for shorts though for anyone able to do so while most of the group settled for just settling with what they had.

Wars plopped onto a large boulder jutting out from the ground, rolling up the legs of his pants a bit before somewhat neatly storing his stuff inside of his bag. The smell of smoke was a pain to get out of clothes and Warriors groaned at the thought of smelling like a walking campfire for who knows how long. He just hoped that they would be able to do some laundry before the smell spread to his whole bag. Though he supposed if given the opportunity this very moment he probably wouldn't take it. 

He was exhausted, and so was everyone else given the ways half of them were strewn about in various stages of napping which Wars was strongly considering joining in on. So he settled onto the ground, using the rock he had just been perched on as a backrest with arms loosely folded over his chest. He ignored the small rocks that dug into his legs, or how the rock was still a bit too hot against the bare skin of his back. He was just so damn tired that for once none of it seemed to matter. All that mattered was that his eyes were heavy, and his brothers were safe. 

He did a quick scan of the group, mentally reassuring that they were indeed all safe as his eyes really only fell to you. You were a little off on your own and looked just as exhausted as he felt as you peeled off the last layer of your top to expose your bare midsection and a nasty red mark on your shoulder blade.

Oh you little liar. 

With a new wave of energy, Wars shoves his hand into his bag. Rummaging through it till he finds the small canister of ointment and a large bandage before he moves to sit beside you. His fingers brushing your hair over your shoulder to take a better look at the blistering burn.

“Thought you said you were fine.” 

“I am…or at least I was..” you murmur, pouting as you avoided eye contact with him.

Wars couldn’t help but chuckle. It was the same thing Mask used to do when hiding an injury from him during the war. The young hero, now grown ass adult a few feet from him, hated admitting that he needed help which had taught Wars to simply give it rather than trying to convince the kid he needed to simply ask for assistance. 

Wars however, remembered a few seconds too late, that you were not Mask and was now stuck in a rather odd predicament. 

Without thinking, he had reached over, scooped you right off the ground and straight onto his lap. Hands still poised around your hips as his mind began screaming at him the moment he physically felt your bottom press against the now growing strain in his trousers.

Oh no. Ohhhhh shit shit shit don't think about it. DON'T think about it!

Warriors took a deep breath, trying to remain calm while his heart rate skyrocketing. Hands quickly letting go of your hips like the contact had burned him worse than any of the fire monsters they had dealt with today. 

You had gone impossibly rigid, hands placed down on his knees that kept some of your weight off of him. Spine so straight, one poke and it could snap in half.

Oh but you'd love to break her back under the right circumstan-

NO.

No. It would be fine. He was clearly just overthinking it. He was just trying to help you with your injury, nothing more than that. If he could just stay cool then there would be no need to panic.

You awkwardly turned your head to the side so you could see him. “Y-you don't have to-”

“It's fine,” He said with practiced ease. If there was one thing he was good at, it was hiding panic. And as you were already sat on top of him, it was too far to turn back now. “I don't mind.”

You nodded, still looking a bit skeptical but made no attempts to dissuade him. Taking that as a sign that you were indeed okay with him helping, he brushed away the lingering strands of hair and uncapped the bottle of ointment.

You winced at the initial contact, shoulders raised to your ears to try and flee from the coldness of the medicine. He tried again only to get a lessened version of the same reaction. It didn't deter him though, giving you a split moment before he gently rubbed it into your skin. His other hand, having found the curve of your waist, rubbing small circles to try and distract you from the stinging pain.

It didn't take long before your shoulders slowly dropped, the muscles along your spine relaxing enough till even your hands stopped supporting your weight. Letting you rest entirely against him as he applied more of the cream.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep at bay the shiver that raced through him. Thinking of anything else besides the way your hips fit against his or how the goddess blessed curve of your ass pressed into him. And he definitely wasn't thinking about how much he wished he could just grab your hips and-

Oh Hylia he was so incredibly fucked. 

He snatched up the bandage, having enough self control to apply it gently over the injury before practically shoving you off of him. Knees coming straight up to his chest as he prayed to Hylia that you wouldn’t see the large bulge you had just been sitting on. 

“Uhm, thanks. That actually feels a lot better.”

“No problem.”

Neither of you looked at the other as Time called for everyone to start getting up. He watched as you walked off towards Four as he tried to come up with a quick solution to hide the rather obvious bulge. All he could think of was his shirt, so he begrudgingly threw it back on, wearing it loosely instead of tucked in so that it would hopefully cover it. And if anyone asked? It was simply to protect his skin.

_________

Wars sat on one of the tall bar stools in the Inns dining room, picking at the food he had been given though he hadn't taken a bite in probably 10 minutes. His mind too preoccupied with thoughts of you to concentrate on anything else.

He had avoided you like a pack of cuckoos the entire trek back down Death Mountain. Putting as much distance between the two of you as he possibly could until he could 1) calm himself down and 2) stop getting worked up every time he thought about it.

He was still working on that second one.

Adjusting his tunic for what felt like the 20th time that hour he sloshed back his drink, idling tapping on the now empty glass. The cool condensation sliding down to drip onto his fingers. Just like the way he could see the small beads of sweat roll down the length of your back. Wetting the plush soft skin underneath his fingertips despite the harsh environments. The way you fit so perfectly against him and Hylia the way your hips had moved. He wondered what sort of excuses he could come up with to get you on his lap again. Slowly building his way up till he could get you underneath him.

Wars hit his forehead, playing it off as simply trying to keep himself awake. He was still clearly exhausted, but after 2 hours of sleep evading him to replay the events of today in his mind on repeat, he decided to try and see if a snack and warm drink would help clear his head. Unfortunately it only seemed to have the opposite effect. Not only giving him space to freely think about you without the others around, but apparently encouraging it further into what could be happening if he ever decided to stop chickening out and admit his feelings for you. 

Because he did. Not at first, though he has always found you attractive, but over time it was staring him in the face. To the way his stomach would do flips whenever you walked next to him, or how his heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. And if you dared to smile at him? It was a miracle his heart hasn't stopped working. 

He had fallen and fallen hard and it was infuriating.

He was the Captain, the strategist of the group that were all counting on him to keep it together. He couldn't afford to get distracted. No matter how badly he wanted to feel you against him. Grinding down on him so hard it-

He adjusted his tunic…again.

Its only gonna go away if you STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!

He crossed his arms on the counter in front of him, resting his forehead down with a frustrated groan. Might as well make himself comfortable here right? At the rate he was going it wasn’t like he was going to be getting any actual sleep soon anyway. A tap on his shoulder was followed by a thin hand resting on his bicep. He looked up to see 2 women standing on either side of him. Both had long brown hair though the one on his right with her hand on his arm had a much darker shade that looked almost black in this lighting. And both of them were currently looking him up and down like starving wolfos. 

“Oh honey you are much too cute to look so upset.” 

“Yeah, why so down handsome?”

Even with the odd tingling under his skin from where the woman’s hand was, Wars threw on his best smile for them, leaning back so that his arm slipped out from under her palm.

“No need to worry about me ladies.” He assured them with as much charm as he could muster. It was a poor attempt, one even they could probably see straight through yet it didn't seem to deter them as they both stepped a bit closer. One lightly grabbing his arm while the other dragged a finger down his shoulder.

“Awww, poor guy. We can always help cheer you up.”

“Mhmm I like that idea”

Gulping down the lump forming in his throat that felt too dry, he gently tried to push off their hands. Only for them to latch on to him again.

“T-that won't be necessary I can assure you.” He stammered out, stirring on his seat.

“Oh come on. What better way to get over someone than getting over someone else?” She whispered, tugging in his shirt a bit.

“Or between” The other purred in his ear and War's tried not to cringe at the proximity. He tried to laugh, playing it cool until he could slip away and go hide back in his own room with some of the others.

“Oh hey Ca- uhhh sorry didn't mean to uhh…interrupt?”

Maybe the Vet was right and Hylia did just hate them.

His neck spun so hard it cracked. Eyes wide as he saw you standing only a foot away in your night clothes. The ends of your hair still damp that left small wet patches on your shirt. Your eyes awkwardly shifted between him and the two women he was sandwiched between.

“(Y/n)! Hey, what are you doing down here?”

The two women finally let go of him, allowing him room to quickly beckoning you over. You come do so without hesitation, brushing right past the women who were now glaring at you with disgust.

“Couldnt sleep.” You stated, grabbing the hand that was still on his shoulder and flinging it off of him. “Figured I'd get a glass of milk or some. Why are you up?”

“Great minds think alike it seems.”

You hummed but your attention was still in the 2 women who seemed to need a more direct approach at being told to leave.

“Sorry, but can I help you?” You asked with a bite to your voice.

“Who us? We were just keeping your friend company.” Her tone eerily sweet as she tried to brush his arm again. You latched onto her wrist, shoving it away from him.

“How sweet of you. But it looks to me like you've overstayed your ‘welcome’ a bit. Have a good night.” You waved goodbye at them with a fake smile. Thankfully, they took the hint. Walking away with their eyes rolling and a short scoff.

“You have impeccable timing.”

“And you apparently really are too pretty for your own good.”

You both chuckle, the atmosphere around you lightening

“Can I buy you that drink for saving my ass?”

“*gasp* language Captain!” You tease, “but sure, why not.” You glance around, realizing that the only empty seats were on the other side of the room. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the drink he had earlier but for the second time that day, Wars brain didn't quite think through his actions. He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer till you were between his legs and sat against one of his thighs. Unlike earlier though he made sure to keep enough space between you and him. Just in case.

You had other plans though. You leaned into him, wrapping an arm over his shoulders as you put whispered into his ear.

“Ya know Pretty Boy, if you want me to sit on your lap, all you gotta do is ask.”

Heat spread down to the tips of his shoulders and he gaped like a Hylian trout out of water. “I..I didn't…”

“I don't mind ya know,” the heat of your breath tickling against his skin. “There's a lot of things I'd do if you ask nicely enough.”

He swallowed dry air, that all too familiar stiffness returning beneath his clothes. “Yeah?” He whispered back, trying not to shiver when your hand lightly drummed on his shoulder. “Like what?”

He was playing with fire. Fire he should have dowsed hours ago. Weeks ago the moment he knew he had started catching feelings for you. But if you were the one to burn him he would run straight into the flames. So when you got to your feet, offering your hand to him he took it without question. Letting you lead him straight through the small room and up the stairs that creaked every few steps.

It was a blessing that Time has let you have your own room for the night. And a larger blessing that it only took a minute before you were opening the door and ushering him inside.

He could hear the door shut behind him as he strolled into the room. It was…a room. Bed, dresser, nightstand, everything a typical inn would have and nothing more. Feet planted into the wood floor it almost felt like he was back in training, standing at attention as higher-ups patrolled around to find any sort of flaw. He could feel your eyes on him as the distinct sound of the latch clicked into place.

“Well?” You asked. Fingers ghosting over his elbow as you came around to stand in front of him. “What do you wanna ask me?”

He cleared his throat, a bit nervous. “What can I ask?”

Your fingers left goosebumps on his arms as you ghosted over his forearms. “That all depends on what you want.” You explain, stepping forward till you were only an inch away from him. Wars lifts his hands, tapping his fingers against you as if to rest if he would be burned or not. But you were cool to the touch. A relief to the hot fire inside of him.

“Can I kiss you?”

You breathe out a yes, coming up on the tips of your toes to bring his face closer to yours. He grabs your face with both hands, lips ghosting over yours before kissing you softly.

It was soft, timid really. Not the kind of kiss you would expect from the group's so-called ‘ladies man'. But then again this was Wars and sure he could be flirty but deep down you couldn't recall a time he had ever tried to push for more than was given.

You deepened the kiss, swiping your tongue across his lower lip till he grants you access. He tastes like peppermint with the lingering hue of the alcohol you know he had earlier.  You pull away, kissing a line from his mouth down to his neck.

“You could ask to touch me…or ask me to touch you if you prefer.” 

“Surprise me” You chuckle at the slight trembling in his voice as your hands dipped beneath the edge of his shirt before lifting it up. He takes it off, tossing it aside before he reconnects your lips, hands beginner to roam up and down the curve of your sides. You sigh into his mouth, letting him snag your lip to give it a soft suck that makes you moan softly.

Pulling him towards the bed, you give his chest a soft push so he sits down, eyes looking up at you with a hazed curiousity.

“How about I take care of that little ‘problem’ you've had today hmm?”

His face is a bright red now which is cute as you grab his knees, pushing them open to slot yourself between them. Kneeling down on the floor as your hands rubb up and down his thighs. His breath hitching as he watches you unbuckle his belt, finger poised around the waist.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He shakes his head as you pull down, releasing his cock into the open air. Cheeks flushing as you lick your lips, dipping your head lower and lower till your mouth brushed against the sensitive skin. Wars titled his head back, gripping onto the sheets as your tongue licked him from base to head, swirling around the top before repeating the motions.

“Hah- shit.” He moans when your lips wrap around his head, slowly taking as much of him in your mouth as you can, using your hand the rest of the way till you reach the base. 

Panting up at the ceiling, he leans back on his elbow as a hand comes atop your head that was now bobbing up and down. He stares up at the ceiling, knowing if he looks down at you, sees your beautiful eyes while his cock is in your mouth he'll be finished and goddesses he'd do anything to keep feeling your warmth mouth on him. But as you hollow your cheeks, sucking down harder he couldn't help himself. Fumbled curses leave his mouth as he looks down at you, his hips bucking up on accident that makes him hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck- s-sorry!”

Your eyes drag up to his, humming some sort of response that Wars has no clue the meaning behind. All he knows is he has to let go of your head, hand clenched so hard into the mattress his knuckles are white to keep himself from grabbing your hair and fucking your mouth. 

He breathed out your name. “K-keep doing that and I-i wont last long sweetheart... ”

Hands gently grabbed your face, trying to guide you off but you swatted them away, pinning down his hips with a defiant stare that had him shaking. And when he felt the back of your throat again he came undone. Gasping your name as he came, watching as you happily drank it all down before finally popping off of him with a sly smile, wiping at the corner of your mouth.

Holy Hylia you were going to ruin him.

You opened your mouth for another snarky comment but yelped when Wars yanks you up to him, arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you. He kicks his bottoms off the rest of the way, lifting your tunic off till it joins his clothes on the floor. His lips leaving yours to suck along your neck that made your knees go weak. Wars bends down, picks you up off the floor to lay you on the bed. Hovering over you as his mouth finds your chest, kissing the space between your breasts that were being massaged by deft fingers. Back arching when he pinches you nipple as they slid down to the top of your leggings.

“May I?”

“Please”

He pulls them down slowly, shimming himself down till he could kiss your navel. Hands spreading your thighs and without any warning his mouth is on your already wet cunt.

“Link~!” 

Gone was the timidness from the first kiss. This man knew exactly what he was doing as he dived in, lips clasped around your clit to suck firmly. Your hand clutched onto his hair, tugging on it with the same force as his sucking as you panted.

“Should of done this hours ago” he murmured against you. The vibration of his voice only increasing the growing heat that seeped out of you that he was quick to lick away. “Goddesses you taste good.”

“Fuuuck! Link please I need you!”

“Eager much?” He teased. “What happened to asking nicely?”

“Fuck you- ha!”

Delivering a harsh suck he pulls himself up, kissing you gently. “Gladly.” You can feel him against your inner thigh, but a thought has you pushing against him, forcing him back till his ass hit the mattress. You crawled onto his lap, hovering just above the head of his dick that still leaked with cum and saliva. You teasingly slid down, letting it slide through your folds as Wars groaned. 

You let your head fall to his shoulder, kissing along till you reached his throat. His arms wrapped around you, tracing up and down your spine as you slowly rocked your hips along his length. 

“Seem a bit tense Cap, why don't you just relax and let me take care of you”

“Cant if you're gonna just keep teasing me like this sweetheart.” He said through gritted teeth as you lightly rocked back and forth.

“And you said I was eager~”

You pressed a kiss to the front of his throat, letting your tongue slide all the way up to his jaw. Wars shivered, grabbing onto your waist to try and lift you up. You let him, but stubbornly refused to lower yourself back down.

“Ah ah ah” You tutted into his ear. “Remember what I said? Ask nicely.”

You could feel his eyes roll, fingers digging into your sides as he tried to coax your hips back down. “Fiiiine,” He whined, letting his hands drop to your thighs, rubbing them apologetically.  “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Can I feel you?”

Lips collided with his, capturing his bottom lip as you slowly lowered yourself on to him. The head of his cock prodded at your entrance before you let it slowly slip inside. You both moaned, hiding your face in his shoulder as your walls stretched to his size. You slid further down, going till he was completely buried inside of you.

“Holy Hylia. Youre so fucking tight” He groaned, pressing a few kisses to your temple. You stayed still for a few seconds, nipping at his neck before lifting yourself up and sliding back down, easily slipping into a slow rhythm

It only took a minute before the hero of warriors was a blubber mess beneath you. Moans and whines pouring from his lips as you kept up your pace. His hair a messily tossed around from when you had grabbed it earlier that completed the picture of the perfect hero being reduced down to a puddle by your touch.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide almost all the way out of you before slamming back down on him. Wars threw his head back as a loud moan was ripped from his throat. You smirked against his neck, doing it again and again, picking up your pace with each one.

“Fuck, please don't stop!” He whined, roughly grabbing your hips to help guide you up and down his shaft. You let him, focusing on your pace while sucking on the spot just below his ear. Hands dragging through his hair as you added a slight roll to your hips and you for a moment, you thought you had broken him.

Small tears rolled down his cheeks. His mouth hanging open as he heavily pants for air. 

“Look at you, asking so nicely,” You cooed, watching the way he twitched at another rolled motion of your hips. “Keep making those sounds for me okay?”

He nods, whimpering as you praise him. His hips jerking upwards into you, slamming his cock further inside of you that hits just right.  Your nails digging into his shoulders till the coil inside of you snaps. Liquid covering him and sliding down your thighs that burned as they continued to support your work. 

“Shit Im..I’m…fuck (y/n) please~” He whined, hips jerking upwards again to meet yours. 

“So polite” You teased, slowing down just enough for him to notice. “It's alright, tell me what you want.”

“Can I…? Please~, please I..Im so close”

“Since you asked so nicely” You picked up your pace, going faster than your original speed. Your walls clenched around him perfectly till tears ran down his face, mixing with the sweat that clung to his skin and now very messy hair. He brought his knees up behind you as he squirmed underneath you. You leaned down just enough to give another open mouth kiss to the front of his throat. “Cum for me? I wanna make you feel good.”

That was all he needed to tip over the edge. His body went rigid as you felt his cum squirt inside of you. You slowed your movement, working him through his orgasm until the exhaustion hit and you slumped against him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you both collapsed down into the bed. Keeping each other close as you're lulled into a blissful oblivion.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*Timidly raises hand* ✋️ I think I have a new kink 😵 I want my mouth fingered 🫣🫣

P.S. I'd kill for you to write about any of the boys as the drooly bottom having his mouth fingered 😵‍💫😵‍💫

related to this

I'm always happy to help with some good old fashioned self discovery 👀

And maybe it's how clear my recent memories are, maybe it's just my desire to submurge myself in those recent events, or maybe it's even the urge to further explore, but, whatever the reason, you made it impossible for me to not think about this...

So, how about some pussy Buck? He was the first, sweetest boy who came to mind, and something tells me he's who'd enjoy this the most 😏

(Beware of: somnophilia/soft cnc, dumbification, generally filthy pornographic things, etc.)

Hmm.

Steve sighs to himself, growing bored with the flickering light filling their living room as it eminates from their TV. This movie isn't as good as he hoped it'd be. A weekend of no real happenings has further bored him. He's a man of action. He doesn't like to lay out often. He moves, no, plows forward. And now he's restless, searching for something, anything, to capture his attention. Although, it doesn't take any effort to find something so worthy, barely having to search, drawing his eyes easily from the uninteresting show, and dragging them down to find--

What, oh, what do we have here?

Steve's lips curl sharply into a cunning yet fond grin, the playful and dark feeling of mischief unfurling in his broad chest, beating in time with his heart under his hairy pecs.

As it turns out, somewhere between the engaging opening of the movie and this low lull, Bucky--his sweet, sweet boyfriend--has fallen asleep with his head of silky chocolate hair pillowed on the rounded muscle of his chest. The front of his body is pressed against the back of Bucky's. They're melting into each other in the late evening, Steve's legs straight out on the end of their L-shaped sofa, his back upright, and Bucky is draped like a blanket over him. Both of Bucky's long, shapely legs have fallen between Steve's widely spread ones. But, the position of Bucky's body at large is of much less interest to Steve than his head and face specifically.

His head is resting on his chest, tipped back there rather than on his shoulder because he's slouched down in his sleep, curling up, sweet as ever. His neck, to accommodate the position of their bodies, is arched, exposing the pale column and seducing his jaw into falling open just so. Ever so slightly open. At once, it's precious and filthy; his little pink rosebud mouth gaping around nothing, the petal of his fat lower lip gently unfurled to soaking up the sun--if the sun were trapped in their room. And who knows, maybe it is, Steve is starting to feel the heat of it all over his body.

Every gentle inhale and exhale comes with a whispered sound, rolling off his soft lips like morning dew.

Steve doesn't think he just does, reaching out to find the damn clicker and turn off the movie. He couldn't give less of a fuck about it suddenly. Everything that comes out of Bucky is precious. He'll know and memorize every gasp and dreamy murmur.

Startled into quick, fluid movement once, the momentum of desire sweeps Steve up further, spurring him into a caress of Bucky's pillow soft cheek. Bucky doesn't stir. Steve can't stay away, the warmth of the sun building inside him, he'll gladly be burned if it comes to that. He's going to stay here, exactly here, with Bucky. Bucky himself isn't immune anyway, as Steve draws his thumb over the sharp line of his jaw, pressing softly against that sweet bit of baby fat he's never lost under his equally precious cleft chin, Bucky is turning more pink.

Steve admires the landscape of his sunrise colored sunburn. He is gorgeous. He is totally irrestiable--

Steve has to tease the pads of his fingers, feather light, back up his cheek, around the other side of his face, and feel the high point of his pretty cheekbone. He touches the vulnerable, delicate skin gracing his eyelids, colored with veins, so near the surface. Steve's fingers skim the slope of his nose, hopping off to find the tempting cavern of his mouth.

Those soft, pouty lips...

God, the prettiest fucking pink Steve could ever imagine. Not to mention the goddamn wet dream red they turn when they're plundered by Steve. Bucky begs to be claimed. Bucky moans and cries and get so fucking spacey and sweet with the right touch--the roughest touch. He likes it. He likes having this mouth--this mouth right here--not just claimed but fucked.

Defiled.

Violated.

He's not happy until he's dizzy and his lips are swollen, glistening wet with his own smeared spit and ruined to a candy red.

Steve shivers involuntarily, thinking about how dirty his sweet boy is, and it jostles his body enough to leave Bucky murmuring. Something useless and incoherent underneath a chest-expanding sigh.

Steve licks his own lips, watching Bucky's lower lip pout out just a touch more with that exhaled breath. He smears his thumb over the plush surface of Bucky's lower lip, catching it just enough for it to bounce back into place. God. Steve can't help the way a growl builds deep in his chest, the heated pressure growing, but he can swallow it down. He'll keep that down, he'll keep it down. He's not done taking Bucky in yet. He's so pretty like this.

Sleeping.

He's beautifully slack and vulnerable. He can't stop Steve from doing a damn thing. All he can do is absorb it. Take it. He's a pliant little sponge, soaking up Steve's body heat and any bit of pleasure Steve offers up--anything he wants to place on his tongue, he can.

Steve caresses the perfect bow of his lips--both of them, upper and lower, touching every part of them, leaving nothing un-teased--before daring to sneak in and place two fingertips on his tongue.

His tongue is surprisingly wet for cat napping with his mouth agape.

Steve shuts his eyes in pleasure, savoring the searing hot sensation of that wet muscle. All smooth and soaked. Steve, just a little, thinks about doing the same with his other hand but lower, diving between Bucky's legs and finding out if he's wet down there, too. It wouldn't surprise Steve if he was. He's so sensitive, just a little bit of touching, petting that's not even too heavy, and he's panting like a dog, starting to drip into his boxer briefs, hips twitching every now and again, sharp and jerky, like he's just aching to grind against anything.

Sweet Jesus, Buck.

Steve loves him so much it hurts. Steve's so deeply in lust with him that it'd be embarrassing if anyone but Bucky knew. He's wrapped around his daintiest finger, always thinking of sticking his cock in him, or, hell, not even his dick, thinking just like he's doing right now--

Pushing his fingers into that lush mouth and feeling around, curling his fingers as if he's searching for his sweet spot. Bucky's eyes, if he's awake when Steve's doing it, that is, even roll like he's got one in his mouth. A sweet spot for a sweet boy. Well. Maybe two sweet spots, one somewhere on his tongue, pressing down hard enough leaving him shuttering, and the other in the back of his throat, hitting it and watching him gag, eyes instantly saturating with desperate tears that beg Steve to go deeper.

Fuck.

Steve wants to bury himself alive in his sweet, tight little throat.

Steve wants to lay him out, limp and helpless, on the edge of the couch, his head hanging off, and shove right in to bulge his throat. Steve wants to curl his fingers in his mouth until Bucmy cums as if he's three fingers deep in his pussy instead. Steve wants to try and fit his fist in there, forcing his jaw wide, making Bucky drool all over himself, wet like he gets when he squirts for Steve. Steve wants to shove a gag in there, not to shut him up, not to muffle him, but to please him, he loves to see how cloudy Bucky's eyes get and how far away Bucky's smarts get when his mouth is stuffed full.

Steve wants so much. He's a hungry, bad man. And like this-? All Bucky can do is give. So, Steve takes.

Plunging his fingers in and in, Steve is wickedly thrilled to learn that Bucky's so deep in dreamland that his tongue doesn't even twitch, and it especially doesn't curl around his fingers and suck.

The novelty of nothing happening when he sticks part of himself in his eager boy's mouth turns Steve on more than it has any right to. He's not doing anything, and that's precisely it.

Take it.

Steve explores, stomping around. What? He has every right to. Bucky's his. He can scrub his fingers against the flat, wet muscle of his tongue, scratching his fingernails tantalizingly light across his tastebuds. He can push his fingers between his teeth and lip and find the sweet, delicate spot where the ever-so-slightly tougher flesh of his bottom lip melts into the smoother, wetter, softer inside of his mouth. He can find each and every arch where tooth meets gum. He can travel back farther, darker and deeper, past just his mouth and into the top of his throat. Two fingers. Searching deeper. Feeling the slick velvet of his throat and just teasing the clutch of a deeper part, his body foolishly trying to keep Steve out. Too bad. He can--

But, god, is it ruined in the most perverse, arousing way.

Then. Exactly then. All at once, Steve's private, uninterrupted time with Bucky's body is ruined.

It's totally fucking worth it.

Bucky launches into action, flailing uselessly as his sweet, hot throat suddenly spasms, clutching like a vise around his plundering fingers. It's exactly fuckin' like when Bucky can't hold on any longer and just can't hold himself back from cumming, his pussy squeezing so painfully tight, wet and hot, around his rock-hard cock, shoved deep into him.

Steve overwhelms Bucky no matter what hole he sticks it in. His pussy. His mouth. His ass. Bucky once squealed, near-sobbed that he was pretty sure Steve was hitting his cervix while he fucked him, but he'd kill him if he stopped, so full and fuckin'-fucking full.

Yeahhh.

This is just like fucking his tight little pussy loose.

He's deep in his throat, two fingers deep, hitting his upper esophageal sphincter, but rather than squealing, Bucky's choking.

It's still a useless, obscene little sound made of pleasure. Of course, it's pleasure. Bucky's choking on air and spit and Steve's fingers but as soon as he's been awake for just a second he's rasping out jagged moans, too.

There he is.

That's Steve's boy.

Jolted into consciousness by invading pleasure and taking it. Just taking it. Adjusting to it so seamlessly. He's an undeniable slut who likes filling. Fucking. He likes everything.

And his enjoyment is painfully obviously in the way he chases Steve's fingers, arching and straining his neck when Steve tries to pull his hand back. He's not just moving his mouth, though, moaning, desperate to suck on his fingers and have his throat fucked, but he's moving those pretty hips, too. Squirming around in an uncoordinated manner that really fucking works for Steve. He's too horny to try and be cool. He can't be smooth. He's just needy, so beyond everything else.

Steve just barely gets a hold of him, hand tight on his hip, biting bruises into his precious body for his own good. He'll get there. He'll get to his achy, throbbing pussy squeezed between his legs. He will. He's just not done with his other hole yet.

His chin is already slick, but he wants to see how wet he can get him. He wants his pussy soaked by the time Steve finally splits his legs and paws at his swollen, wet slit, teasing up to flick his clit and make his shriek. He doesn't want to be kind.

Yeah, he's wet, so fucking wet he already knows, but he could always be wetter. Messier. So, he sticks his fingers deep in one of his holes--his mouth, of course, just a hole that was made to be fucked--and curls them hard. The same way he does when he's got his thumb on Bucky's clit and his fingers inside him, pressing hard, knowing he's gonna squirt everywhere. His messy, dumb boy is so easy to play. He's so easily reduced to nothing but a popsicle, sticky and sugary, soaking their bed in the summer sun, flushed with his bright red sunburn.

[bellarkeex]

Reverence [Jude x Cardan]

☾ warnings: 18+, smut, throne sex, oral [fem receiving], soft/dom ish Cardan?, i'm awful at tagging we know this by now.

☾ wc: 1.6k

☾ read on ao3: here  | ☾ masterlist 

☾ heyyyy long time no smut. soooo i found this in my notes from a year ago... have fun :)

With its usual throng of courtiers finally departed from their night of revelry, the throne room was the last place I'd thought to look for Cardan. 

Except there he was, relaxed across his half of our throne staring out to the empty room. His attention caught as I sneaked through the oak door, making my way to where he lounged. Soft footsteps echoing off the walls. 

My skin growing embarrassingly hot under his fixed gaze, watching my every movement while bringing a fresh glass of wine to his lips before setting it on the ground upon my approach. 

Climbing the steps of the dais, I lower myself into a mock curtsy, "Hello, my king." 

Greeting me with a smile, there's a glint I can't quite read in his dark eyes as he leans forward, reaching to cup the backs of my thighs - spreading his slightly, to pull me to stand between them. 

"Come on," Cardan chuckles softly. "I know you can go lower than that." 

I only shake my head at him playfully, running my fingers through the thick of his hair, gripping soft curls to tilt his head back a little further. 

Resting his chin against the bodice of my dress, that familiar burn shooting to my core at the deep sigh which escapes the back of his throat, any last residual tension fleeing his body. His tail coming to snake around the bottom of my calf, making sure I don't turn away. 

As though sensing my desperate yearning to close the gap between us, insistent hands guide me to settle myself onto Cardans' lap. 

With his body flush against mine, my voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I didn't expect to find you in here." 

"Were you looking?" Our faces merely a breath apart. 

"What if I were?" 

There's a beat of silence between us and I know he won't give me his answer until I surrender mine. 

"Yes." I admit, my eyes flickering to his lips, feeling much too vulnerable to keep our eye contact. “Yes, I was.” 

Cardans' smile seems to widen further at my admission, leaning in so his lips can brush against mine. "Well, then I'm glad you found me." 

An ache that I cannot suppress burns through me as gentle hands stray from my waist to roam the rest of my body. One moving to trace the curve of my hip, as Cardan entwines the other among my hair. 

Nails grasp at my skin as I kiss and nip along Cardans jaw and down his neck, little bruises materialising in my wake. Soft moans blessing me as I arch myself into him further. 

A startled gasp escaping my throat as Cardan adjusts his hips below me, his own desire evident against my core, despite the multiple layers of fabric separating us. 

Far too many layers, I realise, the wild need to shed every inch of his clothing becoming overwhelming. 

Moving to pull at the laces of his trousers, Cardan pauses me. Bringing my hand to his lips to kiss the light scar running across my palm, before lifting me into his arms to settle me gently on the edge of his throne, before taking to his knees before me. 

Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Elfhame, who kneels before nobody but his Queen. 

Golden rays from the rising sun gleam through the thin panes of crystal, bathing his skin. Morning beams accentuating the gold rims of his irises and the smeared metallic atop his cheekbones. Though he is on the floor, he appears no less powerful. Maybe even more so, the smirk he wears a reminder of the power he holds in this moment. 

"It is you I revere, my Jude." Whispering against the fabric of my dress. 

My chest heaves as Cardan continues his devotion down my body, pulling the fabric at the front of my dress to expose my breasts. Grasping one into his hand, squeezing my nipple while circling the other with his tongue before taking it into his mouth. 

Shocks of pleasure radiating from deep within me, ankles wrapping around his waist pulling him closer. A silent plea for more. 

"All you have to do is ask." Cardan chuckles against my skin, catching my eyes once more. "Tell me what you want from me, my love." 

"I wan-." 

Sentences swallowed by the surprised moan which escapes me. By the pressure of Cardans' fingertips forming circles against my clit, fingertips I hadn't noticed him sneaking under my dress. 

Pulling my hand from his hair, clapping it over my mouth, attempting to stifle the sound which escapes me. 

"None of that." Cardan affirms, pulling my hand away from my mouth. "I want to hear you, Jude, I will hear you. Now, why don't you tell me what you want." 

The words struggle to form in my mouth, his hand between my thighs slowing down torturously the longer I don't speak. 

Forcing myself to try focus, pushing past the vulnerability, "I want you." 

"Oh, that I know." His gaze unwavering, as he slides a single finger inside me. "I can feel as much." 

"Cardan." His own blush hitting his cheeks at the sound of his name, my voice a breathy mess, "Please." 

Cardan, kneeling to a higher eye level and bringing his hand to caress the side of my cheekbone, "You're going to have to be more specific," his eyes that of a man seeing the stars for the first time. 

"I want you to f-." His stare so intimate, I'd believe him if he said he could see straight through to my soul. 

"I want to feel-." 

"That's it, my dangerous wife." Finally adding a second finger, curling both inside me. 

"I want to feel your mouth, your tongue." I breathe, involuntarily pushing my hips up against the pleasure; hoping to find some more friction. 

Placing a single kiss to my jaw, Cardan continues his descent, a lazy smile on his face. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" His voice laced with sarcasm. 

Cardans free hand slipping behind my thighs, resting them atop his shoulders to be cushioned by the feathered shoulders of his tunic. There is no attempt from Cardan to hide his smirk at every patch of red which is revealed the further he pushes up my dress. Kissing each patch, new and old, before swiping his tongue against my folds. 

Hot pleasure builds in my gut at Cardans unyielding reverence, tongue and fingers at an inhuman speed. 

"Look at me, Jude." 

There is no glamour in his words, not that it would work, but I feel compelled regardless. 

Pulling my head up, my gaze meets his. Hand pressed firm to my lower stomach, but still letting me grind against his tongue. He looks beautiful like this, kneeled before me ever so willingly, I know it would pain me I ever forgot this. His lips stained from both wine and my arousal, tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I'm scolded with shocks of pleasure. 

"Cardan," his name a string of prayers on my lips only urging him on further as I continue to shake around him. 

Refusing to let up only until I'm gripping for his collar, dragging him up my body, thighs dropping from his shoulders. 

"Would you like a taste?" His fingers shining with my slick hover above my lips, "It's divine." 

Insatiable hunger only heightened from the sweetness Cardan is pushing past my lips, letting me taste myself off his fingers. 

"I need more. I need all of you." I barley manage, tugging to rid him of his tunic. 

"Of course, my love." Helping himself out of the rest of his clothing before taking my place for himself and resting me atop him. 

Bruising fingertips cling to my hips. Overwhelming pleasure drowning out the small burn of stretch as I sink myself onto him, a deep groan reverberating through his chest at the feel of me. 

"Feel so good," Cardans' words slink down my spine. "Always so good for me." 

Rolling his hips beneath me, until he is fully situated inside me. I cannot help but match his movements, tipping my forehead to rest against his own - a tangle of limbs together on our throne. Cupping Cardans face to capture his lips with mine, I am acutely aware that anybody could stumble upon us any minute, but much too bridled by sheer desire to care. My body alight as he repeatedly hits that spot only he can reach, throat hoarse from the sounds only he can illicit from within me. Beads of sweat drip from my brow, mixing with his own. 

“Did you like the sight of me kneeling before you?” Cardans breath hot against my already burning skin. 

Gods, I did. An abundance of visions flooding my mind of all the times he’s gone to his knees before me, and all the times he will in the years to come. Before, and after, he takes me. And he knows. Gods, he always knows. 

A soft chuckle pulling from him as I can only whine in response before a blinding pleasure devours me and I’m pulsing around him, tears leaking from my eyes. His own movements becoming desperate, almost feral, before shuddering beneath me and spilling himself inside me. A final few thrusts to stop the sheer amount of his arousal leaking from me. 

Dragging a finger along the panes of his toned torso, my exhausted muscles giving up on me, I collapse my head to rest between his collarbone & jaw. We should move. Should pull our clothes back on and make our way back to our room before someone discovers us. But with Cardan lazily fingering soothing circles into my back, gazing down at me, my body softening against his despite myself. 

"You're beautiful." Speaking more to himself than to me, that stupid smile on his face, the softness in his voice a caress down my spine – we're not moving any time soon. 

[alottiegoingon]

i had this idea I wanted to write, but every time I started, it I end up hating it, so I thought maybe you could come up with something better!!

jackie doing the reader's make up or hair, and they're really close together and finally jackie can't handle it anymore and closes the gap.

user alottiegoingon is completely dead after this!!! sorry its short, im not sure if thats what you had in mind but i had a draft inspired by that pic and thought it would fit well with your idea

jackie taylor x fem!reader

warnings: fluff and a bit of suggestive ending, not proofread

"you can not go like this." jackie broke into a quiet chuckle, studying every feature of your face. "come on. let's fix that." she grabs your hand and lead the way to her bed.

as always, you were always dragged by jackie to many parties you wouldn't usually go if it wasn't for her. 'lucky' for you, she wouldn't ever miss any. not much of a party girl, you would let her pick everything for you; dress, hairstyle, make up.

tonight, trying to mirror her gestures and putting make up by yourself, you somehow ended up looking extremely boring.

"you don't need any, but if you want to wear it..." she's delicate when pushing you onto her bed, soft smile spreading across her face, but there's something in those eyes when she crawls to you. "then we gotta make it right."

your muscles tightens as you sense the warmth emanating from her breath as it meets your face. jackie had an eyeliner in hand and lipstick and blush resting by your side. her knees were straddling you, supporting her weight as half of her body was leaning over you and you had a hard time discerning if her rosy cheeks were caused by the lack of distance between you two or the blush she had applied before.

she graces you with an affectionate grin and the side of her hand touches your face, the cold and wet feeling of the tip of the eyeliner makes you flinch a bit as it touches your eye. "don't move," she murmurs under her breath even though she was struggling as well with unsteady hands.

the air seems to thicken around you. her focused gaze locks onto your eyes, while her lips begin to slightly part. you have never seen jackie so immersed, not even in class or watching a movie. in a matter of seconds, she was done with your eyes and with a firm grasp on the brush, she swept the pinkish powder onto your cheeks in gentle, circular strokes. "see, now you don't look dead anymore," she lets out a breathy giggle, eyes darting from your flushed cheekbones to meet your hesitant stare.

nervously, you just shake your head to agree with her and give her a faint smile. if your heart was already beating fast, it felt like it was about to explode when she switched to the lipstick. your hands resting on the sheets begin to play with the thin fabric.

popping the cap off and bringing her face nearer, her left hand reaches for your skin, thumb tracing your bottom lip with no rush. she was so lost in the sight of your unselead lips that her ragged and heavy breath was resonating in your ears. holding your breath, you felt like you were about to pass out and judging by jackie's distressed and lost eyes, so were she.

"open wider, please." she demands in a low and raspy voice and her words made your heart stop for a moment. her finger, still resting on your mouth, forcefully parted your lips and her hand then slides down to cradle your chin between her thumb and index finger.

she swallows hard, forcing down the lump in her throat, and with her trembling right hand, she starts to apply the red color to your lips. she's careful to cover every inch of your mouth, paying attention to your upper lip first.

when jackie's about to move to your lower lip, she abruptly stops. looking up at your hazy eyes and back at your colored lips over and over, she was waiting for any sign of rejection. perhaps a spoken longing from you, even a faint noise. but you didn't utter a word and it was all she needed.

with a swift motion, jackie abandons the lipstick on the bed, missing it, and her hands immediately find your face. the sharp clatter of the plastic hitting the floor goes unnoticed by both of you as she fervently presses her lips against yours.

taken aback, you momentarily halted before kissing her back, eyes shutting rapidly.

with her brushing finger over your jawline, her other hand makes its way to your neck, gently wrapping her fingers around it. in an instant reaction, your hands forsake the sheets, eagerly gripping her hips.

"jackie," you tried to break the kiss but your words were nothing but slurred and weak sounds that she didn't care one bit about. "what about the party?"

not letting you speak, denying you any space by not letting go of your lips, and with smudged red lipstick all over her mouth, she whispers something into your mouth.

"forget about it."

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Mommy issues

Boss!Scarlett × Fem!reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Boss/Employee relationship, Pet Names, Top!Scarlett, Bottom!reader

SUMMARY: Your boss Scarlett has some special plans for the celebration of your promotion

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Word count: 1.1 k

Authors note: Thanks for 100 follows love ya all

Masterlist

I've now worked for the outset for about three months and somehow, I still couldn't believe that I was working with the Scarlett Johansson. In the beginnings I would even stutter whenever she talked to me, which was pretty embarrassing form me, however after some time working with the movie star got more and more normal.

She made it hard for me to not blush whenever she was in a room with me. Whenever would stand behind me I could feel her hands on me, on my waist, on my shoulders or on my lower back. Or how she would gaze at me during meetings, but she would look away whenever I meet her gaze. I never said anything, to be honest I liked it.

Maybe it was all my imagination or how my friends would call it Mommy issues. But something told me that it was more than that, God it was so much more.

On that morning I had received an Email from Scarlett personally, which at first wasn't anything out of the ordinary but this one was addressed to my name asking me for a personal meeting.

To be honest I thought I had fucked something up and was about to get fired in the worse place. That was why when I arrived at her Office, I was even more nervous than I normally am. I signed not knowing how to react now. I couldn't remember any cases where I messed up? My appointment with her was at the of the day and what can I say they were torturous.

My hands were shaking as I carefully nocked at Scarlett’s door I beyond nervous I waited shortly before stepping in my boss’s office. I took a deep breath mentally preparing myself for her harsh words or punishment. However, to my surprise she just smiled at me signalling me to sit down across from her which I did.

"So, Y/N, your work lately has been nothing but perfect" suddenly all my stress had been relieved it felt like burden falling off my chest. "Was thinking about giving you the promotion for head of marketing."

I was speechless and she saw that too "I know that you are only 24 but I think it would be a great opportunity for you. I want young people like who know what they are doing in social media. So, what do you say, Y/N “.

"I'm glad you offered me this opportunity and I will gladly take it" I smile at her, and her plump lips turn into a smile too. She reached her hand out over the desk as I took and shook it and could feel how my cheeks heat up at the minor skin contact.

She abruptly stood up from her office chair going to one of her cabinets. „I think we should celebrate your promotion. So, what do you want red or white wine?" She smiled at me I was a bit taken a back. Did she do this with every of her employees? Or was I special to her?

"I'll have to drive home. I can't drink" she just smirked at me while placing two wine glasses down "Oh sweat heart, I'll drive you home if you want to. So, which one are you taking" I signed I knew that there wouldn't be away out.

"I'll take the white" She nods before opening the bottle "I knew it, you seemed like more of the sweet type" I could feel my cheeks heat up even more. Scarlett bit her lips before taking a slip from her whine.

We talked and made jokes what seemed like hours until she started making me compliments again telling me I how I would be her good girl. She knew how to get me.

"Do I make you nervous" If possible, I blushed even more I try to hide it by drinking more of the sweet alcohol "Come here sweetheart" the actress signalled me to come closer.

As I stood in front of her, but the older woman still wasn't satisfied. She put her glass down petting her lap. "Come on bunny don't be all shy now “.

I couldn't believe it I was sitting on the lap of my boss, and I was liking it. She grabbed on to my hips licking her lips "I know about your little crush on me. I can look through you like a window" Was it really that obvious? I tried to look away from her, but she grabbed my chin, pressing her lips onto mine.

I didn't pull away, no I whimpered into her lips as she broke away. I was breathing hard before diving into her again. I try to take control of the situation, but Scarlett wouldn't let me our tongues fighting for dominance.

In the end she won shoving her tongue down my throat, kneeling the flesh of my ass as I moaned out loud. "Fuck" I whimpered out feeling Scarlett’s lips on my neck, sucking, and nibbling on it.

Scarlett bit my neck making my hips buckle, she groaned on my neck before slamming me into her desk. I groaned at the harsh contact. "Do I have your consent bunny?" She asked me while unbuttoning my blouse "Yes" I cried out at the feeling of her kissing my skin again.

She finished pulling of my clothes before settling between my legs pushing them over her shoulder. She kittens licked my folds neglecting my clit. I let out increased moans making Scarlett groan too."Please Scarlett... no more... teasing" She smirked at me lashing onto my clit sucking it. I rolled my hips, but the actress held me down insisting two fingers into me. "Fuck you're so tight “.

She kept pumping her fingers curling them perfectly against my g spot. "Scarlett fuck I'm close" She smiled at me "Come for me bunny" She moved up my body holding me close as she fucked me through my high. Kissing me as I slowly came down from my high.

"That was amazing" I said as our lips parted "I liked it too" Scarlett kissed my cheek. I pulled my clothes on again. I didn't know what just happened also I didn't know what to do now.

As I tried to leave Scarlett stopped me "Where are you going?" "I'll have to catch subway you know. I don't really want to drive anymore “. She looked at me confused "No, no, I'm driving you I only had a glass of wine besides I feel pretty sober now “. That was the beginning of our live together and now I couldn't imagine on without her.

:)

[im-the-j-in-anthony-j-crowley]

Okay, here me out, i can't stop thinking about demons and the fact that many of them can't spell

Crowley says that spelling is not their strong point, and we see this exemplified especially in Shax and Furfur, but now recently it occurred to me to look up how to pronounce food in Italian. Remember Hastur? If you look it up, you'll notice it's cibo, and if you listen to the pronunciation, you'll notice it's VERY similar to the pronunciation of ciao (what Crowley says in that scene, remember?).

Learning this is what gives me a start for what I had been thinking for quite some time, because at the beginning I thought that the spelling thing was something for only the lower level demons, after all, Shax and Furfur have leveled up, but initially they were at the bottom. But not Hastur, Hastur is a duke of hell.

And the confusion between cibo and ciao proves that he must likewise have some kind of problem with language comprehension.

Also, I want to add, I'm not entirely sure if this is a good point, because I may be influenced by the fact that I'm not a native speaker, but Dagon's motivational speech doesn't directly reflect poor language use, but I get a sense that it doesn't reflect great command of it either

And then we go to Crowley, I assume we all think at first glance that Crowley has no problem with language, right? But let me remind you of something: Crowley hates books.

Yes, he has books. But the one book we see, has pictures, lots of pictures. An illustrated astronomy book. In addition to this, Crowley demonstrates a strong dislike of books. Contempt. Hatred. Yes, we've seen him write things. Yes, they are well written. But it doesn't seem to be something he enjoys

With all of this information, I'm going to reach the conclusion that ALL demons have a problem with language, especially written language. Even despite the fact that they are able to speak every existing language.

And I feel that this is a curious detail, because taking into account the powers they have, one would think that they could compensate those difficulties by miracles, right?

They don't. They still have those errors, and you could say it's because none of them have thought of it but... Really? None of them have thought of it? In 6000 years? I don't believe it.

So it must be something intrinsic, there's something they can't change that makes it difficult for them to write/spell.

And we could even go further, because one of the things I find curious, is the fact that Shax has problems with sarcasm. A demon, problems with sarcasm. No one in 6000 years spoke sarcastically to Shax?

I don't have enough arguments to add this as a collective demon problem, since Shax is (I think) the only one we've seen with that problem, but it's something close enough to mention.

Mixing all this up, I should mention the big elephant in the room: Demons have written records of who enters hell

We've already established that the difficulties with language go as far as the dukes, and I feel it's not jumping too far if we say that Beelzebub and Satan possibly shouldn't be spared.

So, who are these reports for? It's not like they're going to read them, I know that's hell, but why would they force themselves to go through that torture?

The only thing that makes sense is that those reports are for someone external, and there are only two options: heaven, or directly God.

And both options seem pretty cruel to me, because we know one thing: angels can read.

Aziraphale can, Muriel can, Gabriel can, we don't have any example of an angel who can't read. Crowley had a book before he fell. So we can assume that demons could read.

They could, and the fact that now they can't makes me see only one possible explanation: Falling caused them those problems.

And I feel that if we mix my two conclusions, the ending is something very ugly. Demons have problems with language, especially written language. Those problems started when they were expelled from heaven. They make written records that are possibly presented to those who turned them into demons.

Basically it is a very strong level of cruelty.

Please recognize the demon's rights. They still deserve to have rights

[silverlightsminky]

Sweet but Not Innocent.

18+ Minors don't interact

Contents & warnings : smut, oral sex, consensual sex, nipple play, orgasms, idol, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it) NSFW, shower sex.

Genre : smut

Please be advised that all content presented herein is purely fictional and does not reflect any actual individuals or interactions. The sole purpose of this document is for entertainment purposes only.

---------------------------------------------------

"Please mingi" you beg pouting slightly while looking at your boyfriend, "please?" You're sitting on your bed while he's getting dressed.

"I already told you, doll not now." he leans down to kiss you as he heads towards the door. You get up and follow him,

"We can do something later when I return, okay? I love you," he says as he grabs his keys and wallet.

"I love you too, have a good day" you say as you give him another quick kiss before closing the door behind him. It's always so tough when he has to go to choreo rehearsals or spend time in the studio.

You knew he wasn't going to be gone for very long he just had to stop by KQ for a few hours in the studio and a rehersal and then he was yours for the rest of the day. You just had to find something to do while you killed time waiting for him.

In the few hours it took Mingi to be done with work you decided to pamper yourself, you got your nails done, you got yourself a massage and you treated yourself to sexy new lingerie and a few other fun surprises for the both of you.

As Mingi arrives home, he removes his shoes and carefully places his keys and wallet back in their designated spot, where he had taken them from this morning. With a gentle voice, he calls out for you as he makes his way towards your bedroom.

"Nae sarang (내 사랑)" ?"

"I'm in the shower babe, I'll be out in a moment!" You respond to him. As he approaches your room, he hears the water turn off, he patiently waits for you sitting on the edge of your bed right where you were begging him to do "something new and exciting" with him earlier in the day.

"Baby!" You squeal as you open the door and enter your bedroom, finding yourself, clad in only a bath robe straddling across his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, Proceeding to give him a kiss. He laughs into your mouth. "It's only been a few hours, but you act like I've been gone for days." his broken English makes you melt, he's so cute.

"you know it feels like and eternity when I'm away from you" you say, pouting your bottom lip, tracing his collar bone with your finger tips.

He bites your lower lip, holds you by your hips and pulls you towards him and rolls the two of you over you. You're now laying on the bed underneath him as he starts rolling his hips into yours, "I can't remember why I got out of bed," he murmurs, nibbling on your neck and shoulder. "You should have stayed here with me." You purr in response, now tracing his biceps with your fingers.

You just breathe in the scent of him and let him take control. He knows you so well after all those times you were supposed to be asleep but couldn't stop touching each other.

He slips his hand under your robe gently grasping and caressing your skin, exposing your naked form underneath. His eyes, usually gentle, darken as he takes in every inch of you, when they connect with yours, his words confirm everything you already know. "I can never get enough of you." He moves his hand to cradle your face and kisses you like he's been starved for weeks and hasn't eaten a thing.

You giggle while tucking his hair behind his ear.

He leans in close, his forehead touching yours, kissing you deeply. His full body sitting between your hips you writhe and wiggle rubbing yourself against him, feeling the hard bulge forming in his pants. You reach down gently grasping and rubbing your hand against it making it harder and throb under your touch.

"naneun neoleul neomuna wonhae"(나는 너를 너무나 원해) He murmurs in your ear, while your proficiency in the language may be limited, you understood exactly what he meant.

He grabs your hands with one of his and holds them above your head while kissing your soft pink lips his tongue sliping between them to taste yours, your hips bucking up against him feeling his hard cock pushing against his pants as you do so.

He let's go of your hands so he can undo the button on his pants, when he does you help him slide them off his hips, his hard on pushing against the black material of his boxers. He unbuttons his shirt, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. He's so beautiful.

Mingi leans back down towards you, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head again, this time holding them a little bit tighter as he starts kissing your lips again, making his way down your neck, breathing in your scent. He pushes his hard cock against you, your body quivering. "You're so sexy baby" he says as he takes both your hands into one of his as he reaches down with the other and gently runs his fingers over your folds and into your wet slit, his palm gently rubbing against your clit as he fingers you, As you let out a groan, he takes a second to remove his shirt, revealing all that hard muscle, causing your eyes to fall upon his beautiful body, . His lips meet yours, and you moan from the taste of him. you moan " youre going to make me cum." He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "Okay pretty girl" he says "cum for me". The way his voice breaks is enough to send chills down your spine.

"I want to taste you" he says he moves his way down your body and places his lips on your clit and gently starts sucking swirling his tongue around tasting every inch of you.

"I need to feel you" you barely manage to get out, your high taking over your body as your back arches as you have your first release. "

Mongi slips off his boxers, your core aligning with his hard length, his mouth covers your nipple. With his other hand, he starts to stroke himself. A few seconds later, he's inside of you.

"God, I missed this" he grunts. He rolls his hips, causing his tip to hit a sensitive spot inside of you. You bite this shoulder and dig your nails into his chiseled skin. "Oh, you feel so good baby" "Mmmm." You lean up and kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips. He slides himself out and then thrusts into you, causing your whole body to jolt with pleasure. "I love how good you feel. " You moan as he keeps his pace, making sure that every inch of you is met with his. Your eyes roll back as you feel the start of another orgasm coming.

"Come on, don't hold back. " He slowly slows his pace as your body contracts around him. " Oh god, please don't stop. He pulls you closer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. " I could do this forever." His lips find yours as he starts moving again. You moan against him as you meet each thrust he gives you.

You throw your head back and cry out,

"Oh god, right there. "

Your moans really do something for him

"Oh fuck baby you're going to make me cum" he groans as you grind your hips into his thrusts.

He reaches his climax and shoots his warm load into your quivering pussy and your body pulses with unbridled pleasure as you yourself cum again.

He falls over you, gasping for breath.

he rolls over to lay beside you, tenderly kissing your shoulder, as the golden hour sun shines on his beautiful heaving chest.

"Let's go take a shower, and get you all cleaned up" he says sitting up, he takes you by the hand and leads you back to the still humid bathroom that you just came out of. Your robe gently falling off your shoulder to the floor as you get up, your long hair brushing against your back.

"I didn't even show you the new things I bought today" you playfully pout. Mingi turns on the shower as you watch him from the doorway, head resting against the frame.

"I didn't even get to return the favor..." you almost whisper as you look him up and down, cock still hard, body like a Greek statue .He takes your hand and guides you into the shower. With his back to the water you stand on your tip toes to kiss his lips, without taking your eyes off him slide your hands down the length of his body getting down on your knees, you take his cock into your mouth sucking on the tip. He groans, letting you know he likes it. As you run your tongue around the head, he stares at you. He fists his hands in your hair. " Baby, I love you. You moan onto his cock, giving head is one of your favorite things to do for him.

He hrows his head back as you swallow his cum. He leans down and takes your lips in a deep kiss, his cum still on your tongue. When you finally pull away, you give him a sly smirk. "I love you too".

" He growls as he kisses you again. " You lean up and whisper into his ear. " And don't worry, we'll be doing this again later, I still need to show you what i got today."

[bianotbia]

— 𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋 : 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 [ 𝐚𝐬𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐥𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐫 ]

main masterlist | series masterlist

˗ˏˋ upon seeing once again a lonely path before him, asra decides to go to unthinkable lenghts to bring his lover back ˎˊ˗

⤷ upright : innocence, new beginnings, free spirit | reversed : recklessness, being taken advantage of, inconsideration

⤷ a/n: this is the same fic I posted a long time ago but now quite improved, anyway I revised this right after revising my thesis so excuse me while I try to recover from it :')

⤷ contains:*spoilers – asra pov*, very sad and angsty, but a bit fluffy in the end [ wc : 1.7k ]

⤷ now playing : don't wanna cry by seventeen

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Because I love you, because saying “I love you”

Isn’t enough, no matter what words I say

Leaving me, who cherished only you, where’d you go?

Did you go far away because you didn’t like me anymore?

Like a bad omen the red scarlet sky loomed above Vesuvia on that dreary afternoon, the usual buzz and agitation among the streets weren't there to welcome me like the other times I returned from a trip. With hesitant feet and a bad feeling settling in the bottom of my heart I unconsciously made my way to Julian's lab. Piles and piles of books and loose notes were scattered around every empty surface of the room, “Julian?” hidden behind countless vials of suspicious appearance his lowered head quickly rose up, haunted and exhausted bloodshot eyes looked deep into mine and even though drama ran deep inside him that tortured expression couldn’t be a great sign. “Julian…what happened?” with furrowed brows he opened his mouth but nothing came out of it. Lost on all that mess was a necklace I gifted you a few birthdays ago, the very one you swore to never take off. In that eerily silent night Julian finally let out a faint whisper “I'm sorry, Asra… I'm so sorry”, without any more words being said I desperately headed to the shop unable to believe what my heart already knew.

Don’t play around, I know you’re there

It feels like you’ll appear, so I wait aimlessly

I need to go find you, go find you

Because if I cry right now, I might not be able to see you, so

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

Even after a tiring journey, with feet full of blisters and pain radiating through all of my sore body, still I ran tirelessly across every deserted street of the city wishing to be greeted by you when I arrived. But unlike its usual appearance everything was now dark, cold and silent, and most worrying, no trace of any kind of magic left behind. With only a few pained moans coming from outside, the cards seemed eerily silent now, apparently too scared to even reach out to me. Everything seemed to be the exact same if it wasn't for little heart wrenching details, like our teacups that would usually sit together on top of the counter and now laid broken on the floor, unreadable notes all over the table we used for readings, tangled white sheets and blood stains spread on the pillow cover. The world crumbled all around and my legs finally failed me, I gripped the soft fabric of the bed hoping that any sort of familiar scent other than death could still have been left behind, “No, no, no…please…this can't be real” were the only words echoing over and over in my thoughts as uncountable hours drifted by through the night. Exhaustion washed over me as the pitch black sky finally brightened outside and the first morning rays made their way across the room to my bloodshot eyes, the dawning of another day while the light of my life is no longer by my side felt like a sick joke played by destiny, and if that night I could have been able to be asleep even if for a single minute I would have hoped to never wake up again if that meant to live even a day without you.

This path that used to be familiar, now feels unfamiliar

Asking me once again if this is the path I know of

Could that person be looking for me?

I’m looking for you right now

The following days dreaded over me like a curse, working on the palace alongside Julian’s never ending laments, Nadia's countless complaints over her headaches and Lucio's profanities screamed over my ears about his worsening condition made the clock’s arms drag through the day. If you were here perhaps none of this would matter, maybe I wouldn't notice any of their remarks. As days pass by the cards still remain silent and I can't seem to connect with them anymore for a piece of me has been lost forever just like many other parts of myself, a piece I never thought would take so much of me. Now desperate to find a solution for this endless nightmare, once again just like a fool I find myself longing for the unknown and hoping for the uncertain.

Don’t play around, I know you’re there

It feels like you’ll appear, so I wait aimlessly

I need to go find you, go find you

Tears are building up and starting to blur my vision

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

In an unusual quiet morning at the palace the only sound around is Julian’s incoherent mutters as he scribbles on his notes like a mad man, after tapping his fingers on the edge of the table and running them through his disheveled hair he finally let out an exasperated sigh “Why did you like them so much?” with widened eyes the words took a while to process inside my head, he turned to me with his usual tired gaze only this time with a deepened sense of guilt “Sorry… this didn't really come out the way I wanted… I mean you’ve met so many people in this life, but you can't deny that you practically worshiped… them” for a brief moment my entire mind went black and suddenly for once in so long I finally felt a hint of your magic in the air “Why were they so special, Asra?” Julian asked. A forgotten memory took over my head and started playing right before my eyes, a faded afternoon after we were closing the shop, with already two cups of steaming hot tea on the table “Did you know I can do palm reading?” you said with a grin growing over your lips “Oh, you do?” concentrated while organizing the cards still I let out a chuckle, you took my hand into yours slowly tracing unknown patterns into it, following each line and bend, a faint magic started coursing through my veins coming from your addictive touch, your gaze finally met mine after bursting out in laughter. “You don't even know what you're doing, do you?” the clear sound of your laugh played over my ears like a heaven’s calling “You did fall for it, silly—”. Echoes of happier times slowly fade away as the scent of the cold tea in my hands makes its way to my nostrils, back to Julian's question that he expectantly waits for an answer, the only thing I can think of is “They made a really good tea”.

I’m alright (I’m not alright)

I don’t want to see you (I really want to see you)

I need to say it

These lies that don't even come from my heart

Unbearable days, endless hours and uncountable minutes have passed since you've been gone, yet our memories still repeat over inside my mind like a never ending dream, or perhaps a nightmare that lasts for an eternity. For weeks I’ve been looking into every book trying to find a way to bring you back. Lucio has been more restless than usual, muttering things under his shaky breath and whispering curses along the halls, matters of life and death. Days after, just like every other year, on the night of his birthday the count threw a magnanimous party for all the kingdom with feverish lights dancing upon the crowded streets of Vesuvia making the veil from dream and reality as thin as the finest linen from the eastern lands. That night he called all of us over for a feast with the finest meats and drinks of the kingdom, but in the blink of an eye the air started to get heavier while the other guest voices also got more distant by every minute, a familiar voice finally spoke to me “Well, well, well… I wasn’t expecting you to actually carry out with this mad plan Asra” the Magician’s voice finally echoed through my ears “I’m afraid it’s the only way for them to be saved” each breath burning over my lungs “Who do you want to save, them or yourself, Asra?” the smoke stings my eyes while a single teardrop traveled down my face reflecting the blazing flames before me “Please, just bring them back to me”.

But my heart won’t listen to these words as I thought

Come back, come back, come back

When half of me is gone, how can I live as one?

I don’t wanna cry

I don’t wanna cry

Although I have a lot of tears

I don’t wanna cry

The memories of what happened that night now lay hidden among the many other secrets that support our lives. The morning after dawned upon me as if I drank every drop of wine on Vesuvia, with a light buzz on my head I still can feel the suffocating atmosphere lingering on my lungs, a dizzying sensation that takes over my sore body along with ancient voices that I’m far too familiar with, I believe the cards want to to you and upon a split second of enlightenment my feet lead me to the very woods that once held safe both of our laughter echoing through it. Blinded by hope and desperation I stand before the whimsical cave while hearing faint whispers calling me up to the depths of it, just like a string pulling my heart, I let myself be guided through its shadows grazing my hand on its damp colorful walls. Just like waking up from a fever dream I find myself standing in the middle of the water, luscious lights dance around my body when I finally grasp something that sends a slight sparkle of magic through my whole body. Among desperation and adoration our eyes at last meet again, tears go down my face and as much as I want to say a million things, I restrain myself to just hold you again in my arms and never let go of you.

I don’t wanna cry

When we see each other again

I don’t wanna cry

the images aren't mine! all rights reserved to © bianotbia 2024. please do not claim, translate, copy or modify any of my works as your own. reblogs are appreciated! ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[unovanhunny]

[Finally getting around to more ficlets. This'll be my solution since I can't edit asks anymore]

I gotchu anon! Here's the post!

Ingo's the one who reached out to Emmet and so he gets "Captured" when they're found together, and Ingo is going against his country's wishes to even be there at the rebel camp. It's most certainly a twisty business.

It was a mixed reaction when Ingo pulled back the flap of the tent and entered the space his brother alone occupied. Initially, he had his head covered by his cloak's hood, dull grey and inconspicuous. But as he pulled it down, sure now that Emmet was truly alone, Ingo hoped he would be given the chance to do what he came here for.

Emmet was used to people coming into his tent at all hours to discuss strategy or talk, so the fact that someone entered wasn't unusual. The hood puzzled him, made him slightly wary. But with the hood pulled down and the intruder exposed, he stared at Ingo with an expression of surprise, trepidation, relief and maybe just a hint of happiness. It didn't last long as he drew his sword and pointed it at the leader he and his people were trying to defeat. Ingo put his hands up defensively, taking a step back, tossing open the cloak to show he was entirely unarmed and not a threat.

"Emmet, please... I'm just here to talk."

Blade still held aloft, Emmet narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What? What could you possibly have to talk to me about if it is not your unconditional surrender. Or at least a ceasefire to this."

There was conflict in Ingo's expression, a kind of sad desperation in his eyes, worried grinding of teeth against his bottom lip and a nearly hopelessness in the way his shoulders sagged. "I... I can't do that."

"Then I have no business with you and you should leave while I still give you the chance-"

"Please! Don't! This is the only way I could think to have a conversation with you! It's completely impossible to do so on the battlefield and no one knows I'm here. I really do just... Want to talk. I've missed you."

A silent standstill, unwavering arm still holding the blade. It was clear who had the upper hand here. Their eyes bored into each other, taking in every detail of the other they could, reading the intentions, feelings, story, on the other's face.

Finally Emmet lowered the blade and let out a sigh through his nose. Sword stored back in its sheath, he gestured to one of the chairs that circled a table with papers and maps for Ingo to take a seat on. He didn't fully trust him, how could he? But he couldn't find it in himself to turn away his brother despite being on opposite sides of this conflict. Clearing the table so Ingo couldn't see anything important, Emmet sat across from him with an expectant look, the edge of apprehension clear.

"So. You wanted to talk."

"Yes. I haven't seen you in so many years... You've changed so much, I almost didn't recognise you!"

"Yes, well, working to overthrow a twisted and corrupt regime that touts itself as righteous will do that."

Ingo whithered visbly at the comment. He had hoped that they could have a pleasant conversation, but he had the feeling Emmet would do this with anything he tried to say. His heart squeezed.

"I... Never meant for this. You must understand that, right? I would never want to fight you. If I had any choice I-"

"There is always a choice, Ingo. This conversation will not go the way you wish. I will not say I hate you, but we can never be brothers the way we once were. Everything is different now. You must understand that."

Ingo was quiet for a long time after that, gaze burning a hole in the table to hold back the burn of tears threatening to fill his eyes. Finally, he sighed.

"Yes... I know. Of course. It's foolish to pretend otherwise. I had... Maybe I was deluding myself. But I still wanted to try."

Once again it was silent. It made the space that stretched out between them painfully obvious. Impossibly vast and insurmountable.

"Did you really risk so much to simply speak with me? If anyone else had seen you, you know you would have been captured and made our bargaining chip." Emmet spoke cooly, ignoring the anxious itch at the back of his mind over that.

"We already said it was a foolish and fruitless endeavor, but it was genuine. I really did risk so much to get a moment with you.... I'm glad you don't hate me. You could and I wouldn't be able to fault you." Ingo's gaze wandered, looking anywhere that wasn't Emmet. "I am not as in charge as I may seem. Yes, I'm the face of the nation, the one who speaks the rallying words. But I'm not the one making the decisions. If I were, as soon as I knew you were involve, things would have gone very differently."

That had been the suspicion for some time. That Ingo was merely a figurehead. The Young King, so dedicated to his country, appointed by God to bring their nation to Greatness, could easily rally his people around him, words convincing them to follow orders that others had issued. An appealing mouthpiece.

".... I will tell you what. It is dangerous for you to stay for long. I know that someone will stop by sooner or later and the only option for you then is surrender. Go home, go back to your advisors and your palace. But... If you were to come by again at the same time tomorrow or the day after, I may be alone again."

Was this the beginning of a plan forming? Yes. Ingo was beloved. If they, he, could find a way to pry the claws of his advisors out of him, there was a chance they could get him to speak of peace, to change the public's view of the conflict, want to stop the fighting. Come to an understanding. So if his brother wanted to stop by and start to build a relationship with him again, then so be it. It might just solve all of their problems.

---

The plan was to give Ingo enough to keep him coming back, understand his thoughts and feelings and turn them towards a more favorablr outcome, find ways to go behind the backs of his advisors. And it was working!

But something else was happening. Something they both felt acutely. Emmet had been right, they could never have the same brotherly relationship they used to. The way their hearts ached for each other, the way it felt natural when their lips touched, their tongues tasted, it was far from what they once had.

And they indulged.

Of course Ingo was so easy to influence when he wanted to just spend time with Emmet without risking life and limb every time. This had to end. And his slowly cooling passion for the righteous rhetoric he fed to the people had started to make its impact.

It was on a morning where they pushed their luck too far that it finally fell to pieces. Neither of them wanted Ingo to leave, so he convinced himself to stay later and later until they were awoken by an indignant voice.

What was the enemy leader doing there? In their own leader's tent? If not for the fact that they were twins, they would think he was trying to seduce their leader into surrender. But he must be using their shares history to his advantage. Why else would he be there? And that he was still there only solidified that his tactic must have started to work! Emmet had gotten weak to him!

Everything felt like it was going too fast and too slow in the same moment. Separated, Emmet kept far away from the king that wasn't his but who had his heart. He had been manipulated, he was in no fit state to make rational decisions about Ingo now!

It was with desperation Emmet tried to explain his tactics, his plan. He wasn't manipulated, he was the one doing the manipulation! Ingo was integral to finding an end to this, finally! One where no one else had to die!

"Emmet, do you really think that's the way this ends? With peace? I didn't realise you were such an idealist."

The words struck a cord within him and he felt a sick twist in his stomach. "What do you mean..."

"This doesn't end until all the ones in charge are dead. Of course this King of theirs is just for show. We use him as bait so we can draw out the ones really pulling the strings. And then we kill them. Then and only then will it be safe for us. Sure, they're more likely to send armies after us before they submit to any demands, but morale will take a hit as more soldiers die without their King to guide them."

"Or... They rally their armies to avenge and recapture their King and use him as motivation!"

"That's a risk we're willing to take at this point. You've done the best you could until now trying to lead us, but this conflict won't end until we do something decisive. And you just so happened to have the most decisive piece of this entire thing conveniently stowed away in your tent. We can't rest until the advisors are dead, and by then maybe we'll even spare your King brother. You'll be the one to take over, though. After all, you have as much right as him don't you?"

It was a cold feeling, knowing the ones he trusted most had an entire plan they came up with involving him without ever consulting him. And that things were out of his hands now. The bloodshed that may ensue from this would be worse than that leading up to it, and it was his own fault.

"Can I at least see him?" Despite being at war, only now did it feel as though his world was moments from crumbling and falling apart. Ingo had become so integral to his life that the thought of being kept away from him burned a hot painful hole in the pit of his stomach.

"Eventually, and under supervision. We can't allow you to jeopardize any of our plans now. But you played your part perfectly, so we can give you a little lenience."

To think he thought Ingo was the only one to have been nothing but a symbol to be used as a face for this war. They really were twins in the end, weren't they?

[adudetteontumbler]

A New OLD OUTDATED Introduction

Note: Not how i feel all the time, just at the time i wrote it

Alright, just put everything over there, and...done. Alright. First, state your name.

My name? Well...I kinda...just...threw...out my name...cast it aside. But I guess i'm still fine with my old chosen name.

Which is?

Jess Indigo Moonbow. I know. It's incredibly stupid. It's all cheery and upbeat, plus the last name *is* just from MLP.

Your age?

16 and some months. Don't expect me to reach 17, however.

And...gender?

Oof...well...I dunno. I did go all...Agender earlier this week...

So...none?

I mean...I'm not sure. Just put all of the above. and below.

So...That means?

He/Her/They/It/Schlee/xer/zi/whatever the fuck you want up to, below, and including none.

Sexuality?

Bisexual. But that just means preferences. I'd still date anyone who's nice.

And...any conditions?

Well, Autism, ADHD, depression...

Dysphoria?

...I don't know. Let's move on.

So...How's life?

Awful. I mean great. I meant fawful.

Like the Mario guy?

No, I hate nintendo.

...How's the old noggin?

Shut down July 2, 2024.

I didn't mean the network.

Neither did i.

Look, Mrs. Moonbow-

Ah-ah. Nuh uh. I'm single.

Fine. Ms. Moonbow, can you state what's been happening recently?

Well...I...I broke down. Again.

How many times does that make this?

I dunno...I lost track after...I dunno. I didn't keep track. All I know is it's probably the 6th time in a 7 day period.

You said you're...unstable...

It's only a matter of time before I finally stop bitching and take action.

How do you...plan to go out?

Swinging.

So...Noose?

Oh, no. I can't find a reliable place to hang myself without something falling and bungling my suicide.

So...

Honestly, I can't tell you. If I did plan my suicide, I'd probably forget.

...Back to the life thing-

Oh my god can you shut the FUCK up about life?

Please, Ms. Moonbow, I-

ABUBUP! Don't! I wanna live safe and free in my tiny little bubble!

You can't shut out the outside world.

Can't, or Not allowed to? Because those are two WILDLY different things. And I, for one, hate rules.

....Tell me about your family.

Well...there's mom. She's...abusive. I know she was abused herself, but she just uses it as an excuse. I know, you were hit for minor things, but YELLING ISN'T BETTER, MOM! CAN YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?

...You seem quite-

HYPOCRITICAL? I'M NOT SAYING I'M RIGHT!

I was gonna say angry. Let's move on.

My dad is neglectful, angry, spiteful, and probably an alcoholic. Still better than mom, but I'm not keeping him around.

Any others?

Well, a sibling...not quite sure what they are, they're still figuring it out. I have a sister and a brother, but they don't live with us. My extended are better, but...they don't realize we're abused. If we told them they'd probably tell mom. Well...except (████████)

I'm sorry, I didn't-

Their name isn't important. Anyway, my sibling came out to them. They are the cool one, after all. I considered coming out, but didn't.

Why not?

Insecurity. Besides, I'm still too unstable.

Political stance?

I dunno...I just hate that...fucker that...ya know...

The one that just-

ZIP IT! but yes.

About the instability...

what? want a reason? maybe it's because i'm a retard? a faggot? maybe it's because my shoes are too tight? maybe it's because my head isn't screwed on quite right? MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE I REALIZED I'M ABUSED, REARRANGED MY IDENTITY TOO MANY TIMES, LOST ALL OF MY FRIENDS AT AN EARLY AGE, WATCHED AS MY COUNTRY SEEMED TO TURN AGAINST ME, WATCHED EVERY SPARK OF HOPE BE DASHED AND HAVE ME SINK LOWER AND LOWER TILL I HIT ROCK BOTTOM, THEN WATCH AS I SINK LOWER?

...

I gave up being happy. I thought it would make me less sad. it didn't. i'm a failure. anyone who's friends with me is stupid to think i'm worth it. if i kill myself, move the fuck on. please. i know, i wouldn't move on if you did, but i'm not a good person.

Jess...

What?

...where's this going?

Well...i dunno. I'm still here. i'll probably make something that'll once again be abandoned before i can make anything decent. got a lot of ideas in here. so to whoever's reading, feel free to...look around at my mistakes. my fuck ups. my journey to be a better person that went the wrong way. stay tuned for the inevitable goodby post, the inevitable changed my mind post, and everything else.

welcome to my personal...whatever.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - The Old Switcheroo

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I'm not at all worried about what's about to happen.

I know Finnegan will take very good care of me.

That doesn't mean it's not a little bit weird.

I'm worried about his headspace and mine and I'm worried that there are still a lot of unresolved issues but I also feel like we're on sturdier ground than we have been for weeks. 

It feels good.

Still, bottoming?

I'm worried it'll permanently mess with Finnegan.

I'm going to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen by turning this around fairly quickly but it'll be what it'll be.

First, we need lube and one special thing I brought with me.

He watches as I get into my suitcase but I do my best to hide the toys.

"Come over here, let me at you," he says and I will admit, it's sexy.

I don't know if his tone is different or it's all on me but either way, I listen.

He puts me on my back and gets on all fours above me.

It's a very good start.

He kisses me, then works his way down my chest and with every kiss and flick of his tongue, I relax a bit. 

He learns that I am a sucker for nipple play because I sound like a wanton whore when he gently teases one with his teeth. 

He makes me crazy and when he slides down my stomach and takes me in his mouth I gasp but he doesn't stay there long.

He teases my balls, then hikes my knees up and works himself lower.

Confession, no one has ever rimmed me.

My hands end up fisting the sheets and it takes me a moment to relax but once I do, bliss.

"Damn, that's... God that feels good, darling."

His fingers join in and he's working me open patiently.

It's kind of him and the last remaining tension leaves my muscles.

I make him turn so I can get at him a little and he obliges.

He's being so careful that I have to pull him down a bit lower so I can really get at him and I start licking him from base to tip and playing with him.

I work a finger in as he gets the second in to me and it's sexy as hell, this reciprocated play.

Before he decides I'm ready and moves, I press the toy against his bud and push it gently in.

"Emmett."

"You're going to love it and this way while you're fucking me, you're getting fucked too."

He has to come before I do for my plan to work and this will pretty much guarantee that happens.

"I want you so much, darling. Come fuck me."

Finnegan

My ass is buzzing, he's been working on my cock with his amazing mouth and all of that overrides any nervousness I may be feeling.

"Are you okay on your back or do you want to flip over?"

"I'm gonna flip, babe, so you can really pound me."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I lean back to give him some room to maneuver and soon that glorious man is on his hands and knees in front of me.

I lube my cock well and drizzle more along the crack of his ass.

I simultaneously can't believe I'm going to do this and can't wait.

"Ready, Emmett?"

"Hmm. I'm all yours, sweetheart."

It's been years since I did this.

Did I forget how tight, how perfect, it feels?

I press myself in slowly, giving him a few moments to get used to me before I really start working myself in deep.

By the time I'm fully seated I already want to release, already.

"You feel so good."

He hasn't said much but the sounds coming out of his mouth are sexy as hell.

"Damn it , Finnegan. Give me that dick, I can take it."

I start slow but soon realize that...

"I'm not going to last two minutes, you're so damn tight, feel so good."

He flicks his head to the side in an attempt to get his hair out of his face and I decide to handle that for him.

I run my hand up his back and slowly gather his hair into my hand.

When I reach the top of his neck I give it a little tug and drive my cock deep.

The moan that comes out of his mouth makes me want to do it again and that's it, I'm not going to stop now.

My hips take over but he's not going anywhere, not with his hair in my fist.

"Shit, Finnegan. Yes," he gasps.

It's all the encouragement I need.

Every time I thrust, the toy moves in delicious ways and it's absolutely too much stimulation at once.

He sounds perfect, feels unbelievable and I am cumming way before I want to but I can't hold back, it hits like a freight train and I lose myself for a minute.

I collapse against his back and manage to pull out.

We end up flat on the bed holding each other awkwardly.

"I love you so much, darling," he tells me, his voice muffled by the pillow.

And I love him. too.

This man is willing to leave his house to make me happy.

I like to tell myself that he's proud because he hates to let me do things for him and maybe he is but he's willing to let me do anything to him and he'd do anything for me.

"I love you too, Emmett."

Maybe he'll do one more thing for me... I think he wants to.

As soon as I mutter those words he shifts out from underneath me and I end up on my stomach on the bed.

"My turn," he whispers before pulling me back and lifting my hips into the air so I'm propped on my knees on the edge of the bed.

He pushes the toy in deeper and then slowly, slowly pulls it out.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself, darling because you're not going to like this."

It's like a switch in my brain flips.

My breathing hitches and my balls tighten even though I just came.

He pushes the toy back in quickly, making me moan, then pulls both my hands behind my back and holds them with one of his his.

I never fuck when I can't get off but somehow the fact that I can't is just adding to the mental games my brain is playing and it's good, so good, right now.

I'm like a swimmer trying to keep his head above water and finally give up.

I'm getting swallowed by 'Little Space' steamrolled by my Emmett and I give in.

"Emmett..."

"Shh. I'm going to do what I want and give you what you deserve. Can you be a good boy?"

'I can... I am a good boy.'

He spanks me twice, hard, jostling the toy with each smack.

"Answer me."

Two more smacks rain down before he yanks the toy out and pushes in with one thrust.

"No, Emmett. No."

He releases my arms and I try to use them, try to move forward away from him but he just laughs at me.

"No, no. I..."

I can't take it but I want to and he will make me.

"You will stay right here, babe."

He slows down just a bit and I can finally catch my breath.

"You're going to take me all damn night. I'm going to seed your tight little ass, plug you back up and then use you again after dinner. Then I'll do it again before bed. Maybe that'll be enough to teach you a lesson."

He fucks me long and deep and I am on overload.

All that matters is making him shoot and release as hard as he deserves to.

"I need you. Fill me up, Emmett."

He loves that and soon he's cumming hard, pressing in deep.

"I missed you, 'Finn'."

And I've missed him, too and this.

I've missed this so, so much.