#he holds them in his palm and tells them through purrs that hes beyond pleased with their work and praises them and then is surprised

[lil-vibes]

im a firm believer that Narinder has rizz but its the kind where he casually says stuff that he perceives as something glaringly obvious and then if you look to the side Lambert is close to exploding

[raggaraddy]

Tae’s first time with a virgin if your still taking requests?

Virgin

A/n: Thank you for the request! It was fun to write. Enjoy xx 💜💜💜

Trigger warning: Smut, first time, oral, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic, dirty talk, mild spanking.

Taehyung

Dom!Taehyung

You pull out your phone and type the message. Over and over. Deleting it and re-writing it about 30 times.

Until you see the typing bubble pop up on Taehyung's side.

If you have something to say, get it out. He writes.

Damn. You really should have written this on paper first. But too late now.

You had spoken with Taehyung for months and had met him in person for the first time last week. With clever wording, so far you'd gotten around telling him your secret. But you know you have to tell him before your first play session tonight. You don't know if a guy can tell or not, but if he can it's going to be embarrassing if he finds out that way.

It's not like you haven't done things before, you were probably more experienced than most when it came to other areas. You've played with other kinky people before, hooked up with girl friends and guy friends, and you've had a full D/s relationship that was filled with BDSM. It's just that you'd never done that one thing.

Really, you don't even know why you held onto it for so long. At first, you were trying to be smart and not give it away too quickly or easily, but then it almost became something you had a sense of pride in and tried to protect. But Taehyung was special. Someone you felt connected to. And you know, it's time to get it over with. Both telling him and the act itself. You have to simply rip the bandaid off and tell him. He shouldn't be mad. You didn't exactly lie about anything.

Its just about tonght :)

Please don't be mad. I ddnt know how to say it before

But you should probably knwo I'm a virgin

Three separate messages. Typed so quickly they're riddled with spelling and grammar errors. The words are not nearly as well prepared as you had wanted. But at least it was done.

The read symbol appears, and then nothing. Staring at your phone for what feels like 5 minutes, there is no reply. You're running over a dozen new messages, typing them in your head first. Wanting to explain that you didn't lie and that everything you told him, you really had done.

Typing the first word, his answer finally comes through. Only 3 words that make you relieved but also anxious from their conciseness.

See you tonight.

After spending hours getting ready, it was finally time to meet him. You came to his house and were perfectly on time. Although, you had a moment of concern thinking you were at the wrong address. When Taehyung said he had a big apartment you hadn't expected it to be a 2 story, riverside, penthouse in the middle of the city. He never wanted to tell you anything about his job, and now you were a little worried he's someone famous or that he runs a drug cartel or something.

Feeling a bit out of place and with the upcoming plans looming ahead of you, you start the night filled with nerves. However, Taehyung's confident demeanour as well as some casual conversation and a few drinks, eventually help you start to relax. And soon you're even beginning to get a little impatient.

A mix of anticipation of what is to come, steadily becoming tipsy, and having not touched yourself for a week, your mind is already running with all manner of dirty thoughts. But unfortunately, you're far too shy to initiate anything so you are entirely dependant on Taehyung's schedule. And he is taking it slow.

Normally, he would have a girl naked and on her knees by this time, but you were special to him, also. And especially now knowing that you're a virgin, he is determined to make the night last. Sat on the couch with him, there are small touches here and there, provocative topics of conversation, and his commanding tone of voice that makes you melt. Your excitement peaking as he passionately kisses you, pulling you onto his lap.

Nearing 2 hours of talking and teasing, Taehyung finally starts the main event. Taking you with him into the most stunning playroom you have ever witnessed. An industrial meets a minimalistic-modern theme. A beautiful king four-poster bed, with an x-frame top, a wooden headboard, and a white canopy. Making you think that this must be where princesses who liked to get spanked come to play.

Never parting his lips from yours, slowly and gently Taehyung undresses you. His delicate removal of your clothes and his tender kisses are in explicit contrast to the sharp, rough tugs on your hair that he uses to move you around. The combination making your skin burn with lust.

Sitting you in the middle of the bed, he remains fully clothed. A prickle of excited nerves shivering up your body. You're beyond needy and ready. Your hands starting to pull at his shirt, unable to refrain yourself any longer.

"Please," you whine. As his mouth comes off yours, you pull him into you a little firmer.

"What do you want?" Taehyung asks. His voice coming out deep and lowly spoken.

"I want," you gulp trying to think of what to say. Your face heating. "you?"

"That wasn't convincing." He moves forward, his hand pressing to your chest, pushing you flat onto the bed. "I asked you," Leaning over, his mouth comes to your breast, sucking your nipple. Your gasps turning to moans as he bites down before repeating himself. "What do you want?"

"Whatever you want, Sir." Your hands cling into the blankets trying to stop yourself from digging them into his perfect dark hair instead.

Looking up he smirks. "Mmm, when you call me that," he grabs your wrist, bringing it to his crotch. Pressing your open palm to the hard bulge straining in his pants. "it really turns me on."

You whine as he pulls your hand away. You'd been fantasizing for weeks about what he must feel like and now you were so close to having what you dreamt of.

"Don't worry about me, Y/n. I'm going to get what I want. But what I want right now," his hand suddenly cups your pussy making you gasp, "is for you- my horny, wet, little virgin," instinctually you spread your legs wider and his middle finger presses deeper, slipping between your folds making you wail. "to tell me what you want."

"Anything," You're trying to make yourself say more, but your mind is swimming and you're glowing with embarrassment thinking about actually saying what you want him to do to you. His piercing stare, his beauty, his hard cock, you're aching to have him. He knows what you want. It's not fair for him to make you ask for it.

"Y/n," your eyes lift to his face upon hearing his rumbling voice call your name. "Have I given you the impression that I tell you to do something so I can hear my own voice?"

Your eyes get big as you chew your lip, shaking your head. Even his light scolding is turning you on.

"Good. Then I'll ask you one last time, and if you make me ask you again, I'm going to put your panties back on, and they won't be coming off again tonight." he purrs making you whimper at his threat. "I was going to accept your little two-word answer, but now you've made me ask you multiple times, so you'll tell me in detail. What do you want me to do to you, little girl?"

You feel like curling under the blanket from shame, but you start to push the answer out. "I want... you... to," you swallow looking down, "fuck me." You can see his eyebrow raise, telling you to go on and give him the specifics like he asked. "I want to have you inside me, Sir. I want," you're thinking of the next words while feeling near to tears from discomfort. Unable to even glance at his face. "I want you to be the first man to fuck me." It's nearly inaudible by the end of the sentence, but you get it out. Hoping it's enough to make him happy.

Finally building the courage to look up, Taehyung is brimming with satisfaction and hunger. Looking ready to devour you.

His fingers gently hold your chin, lifting your head a little higher to meet him as he hovers over you. "Thank you, Y/n." He says softly, making your stomach swarm with butterflies. His warm reaction has you even more confident in your choice. "Put your arms above your head, and interlock your fingers." He instructs hushedly.

Too eager to follow his order your arms stretch above you, knocking into the headboard making your wrists bend. Holding your hips, Taehyung yanks you down the bed giving you the space to hold your arms out straight.

Pressing down on your wrists his face softly becomes more serious "You're not going to move your hands at all until I say. Not in any direction. Do you understand?"

With a little smile, you nod. Already having fun. "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," he praises making you blush for what is surely the 100th time tonight.

He releases your hands and you push them down making sure to follow his order.

Slowly Taehyung shifts down your body, his fingertips lightly tracing down your arms and your sides, making you flinch and squirm. Fighting through being ticklish to hold still and keep your position.

Setting between your legs he continues to play with you. Your eyes clenching shut as his touch runs down your neck, your chest and stomach, gripping your thighs, tracing your lips. His fingers softly pinching your nipples producing a moan, your hips bucking up as your breathing deepens.

Moving lower still, Taehyung pushes your thighs wider. Lifting one of your legs he has you bend it upright, kissing from your knee down your thigh. Trailing lower until his lips touch your core making you bite your lip to stop from crying out. Needing to bite back even more vocal cries as his tongue flicks out, kneading against your clit. Starting to suck and lick you. Your legs spreading further on their own accord. Quickly losing your senses to pleasure.

His nearly painful grip on your hips jerks you down, pulling you into his tongue as it dives inside you making you cry out. Instinctually, your hands want to cling onto him and lift an inch from the mattress. Quick realization making you panic and slam them back flat.

Soon you're fussing, calling out his name as the flat of his tongue strokes you, eating you like a man starved. His long fingers deep inside you, massaging you in the same insisting manner. Pushing you to the edge without pause. Cumming with a yelp you bite your cheek in lieu of your arm. Your orgasm not stopping him, instead, he spreads your legs further lapping up all of the juice you spill. And just when you can't stand anymore and your body is starting to shake, he finally springs up smacking his lips with a satisfied open mouth grin. Wiping your cum from his face.

Flopping onto the bed alongside you, he rests over you again, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself. Leaving you breathless when he finally parts.

"How are you doing?" He asks, his mindlessly touch once more trailing along your skin. "Good?" he presses for confirmation.

"Yes," you giggle, feeling lightheaded in the afterglow. Wanting to touch him back you, accidentally lift your arms off the mattress again. "Oh," You gasp, settling them back.

Raising up, he leans on his elbow. Digging into your joint hands, he clicks his tongue. "How many times did you lift your arms? Hmm?"

"Um," You feel like your cheeks burning under his inquisitive gaze. In truth, you hadn't counted. But you think at least 7 times. "Seven," you whisper.

"And how many times did I say you could move them?"

Your mind races for a moment trying to remember exactly what he said. You don't remember him saying a number though. And you realize it's a trick question. "None?" you squeak.

"That's right." He hums.

Sitting upright, he abruptly sticks his hands under you, flipping you onto your stomach in forceful motions. Trying to not break position, you stay straight keeping your arms flat to the bed. With a last tug, Taehyung pulls you onto your knees, your elongated arms and aching your back makes your face burry into the mattress.

"Seven," He says. His large open palm smacking your ass harshly. He doesn't count down the rest, but in your own head, you do. Each stinging slap only worsening your hunger.

But it doesn't matter how desperate you are, Taehyung isn't nearly done with you. Over the next 90 minutes, he touches and toys with you. You come serval times from his hands, his tongue, from toys, and even once from your own hand as he makes you get yourself off.

As the events go on, he gradually undresses. His own needs getting dire, he also cums, letting you suck him off and swallow his load. But soon after he is hard again. Getting too much enjoyment from teasing you with his cock, seeing you become a mess. And no matter how many times you cum, it is the part you want the most. At last, though, he addresses your needful craving.

Putting you on your back, you can see the switch in his eyes and the intent behind it. Laying over you and resting on his elbows, he lines up with your entrance. Your body almost shaking with expectation.

"What do you want little girl?" he repeats, his own breath strained with desire.

You no longer have any apprehension about saying it. You've never wanted anything, anyone, inside you more than you want Taehyung right now. "Please fuck me, Sir." you pant, tilting your hips up, your motion rubbing his tip through your dripping folds.

This time it's Taehyung whose exterior cracks. Dipping in your warm opening makes him groan. His jaw tensing, he has to restrain himself from slamming his dick inside you. He wants to do it. He wants to make you scream and writhe, and take his dick all at once. But he knows he can't be cruel. He knows he has overcome his baser instincts and be patient.

Pressing his lips to yours, slowly, carefully, he starts to edge his hips forward. His cock sinking inside you. Inch by inch. Allowing you the time and space to adjust to him. And you're grateful for it. He's stretching you and the deeper he goes the further you're being spread. The size of him, his thickness is larger than any vibrator you've used before. Or anything else you've had inside you.

Breathing lightly, shortly, your hands are clinging to the blanket. Your eyes fluttering closed. Feeling him fill you is beyond your wildest imaginations, and right now you wish it would never end.

"Fuck," Taehyung whispers, his entire dick buried inside you. Your virgin walls tightly constricting and twitching around him. With a few heavy breathes, he calms himself. "How does that feel Y/n?" He asks, half teasing you, half genuinely checking on your well-being.

Words have left you. Your mind is delirious. You can only whine and nod stiffly. Your hands wrapping his back draw his body against yours. Mutly begging for him to continue.

He gets your meaning and is all too happy to oblige. Keeping a slow, steady pace, he lifts his hips. The rubbing making you fevered. And when he sinks into you again, he sets up an even pace of long deep strokes. Rocking into your over and over and it isn't long before any hint of pain is replaced with pure euphoria. Your legs shaking and shivering.

"Such a good girl." He moans into your lips. "You're taking my dick so well," Starting to pick up the pace, your moans come out more unrestrained. A kind of vibrating static filling your brain.

As his thrusts become more empowered, the low ache returns. Hurting just enough that it's helping the incredible sensation build. After several minutes, one of Taehyung's hands lowers to your clit. The external pressure causing electricity. Enhancing the pleasure inside. Quickly the combination overwhelms you and you can feel pleasure in your core unlike any other. As if every single cell in your body were crying out in joy, you lift and fall, exploding in ecstasy. The sensation turning your stomach, aching the back of your jaw from how hard it hits you. Taehyung's tongue filling your mouth, he swallows the breathless screams of your orgasm.

"Oh god, Y/n, you feel so good." Taehyung groans, his thrusts not slowing any. Your body floating, your mind ringing in orgasmic relief.

The pulsing inside you seems to last for an eternity. And even after it fades your oversensitive body is still quivering from his unrelenting motions. You're exhausted and wrecked and now that you've cum, his size is starting to make you sore.

"Did that feel good?" He purrs. Your moans of pleasure turning into whimpers as his pace begins to pick up. Pushing on his chest a little, you're breathing too hard to vocalize your thoughts. But Taehyung can read your actions.

"You can take a little more, cant you, baby?" He coos, pressing deep and holding it, grinding his hips down. Making you squeal in pleasurable pain. "You wanna make me feel good don't you?"

He stops moving, pulling back a little to give you space to breathe and to hear him clearly. You nearly sigh in relief. The tip of him was pressing too far. Your eyes open as his hand comes to your face, making you look at him.

"Can you be a big girl for me while I fuck you?" he kisses you lightly, sucking your bottom lip. "Do you wanna be a good little girl and let me use you, let me fill you with cum?"

Even with your body depleted, you don't need to think twice. You want all of that. You want him to cum inside you. You want to make him happy, whatever it takes. Not looking away from his eyes you nod. A little scared, but mostly turned on and excited at the idea of him using you to get himself off.

Closed lipped, his mouth lifts into a smirk. His eyes getting prideful at your agreement.

Easing into you, his breath becomes shaky. Again he bottoms out inside you and you whine in pain. With your approval given he isn't waiting on a slow build this time. He's rock hard and your warm wet cunt is driving him crazy. He knows it's going to hurt you. But he also knows you won't need to endure for very long. He is already nearly ready to burst.

Quickly his thrusts get faster and rougher. Extending his arms he raises up and lifts one of your legs for leverage. His chest pushing down on the back of your thigh spreads you deeper and shoves him even further inside you.

You can't contain yourself at that point. Crying out with every thrust. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. You can tell he is still restraining himself, but it's easily too much. You're drained and tender. And he's too big and rough for you to handle.

But despite your discomfort, you force yourself to stay still. Repeating a mantra over and over in your head that you want to be good for him.

Sweating lightly, Taehyung is pounding you until all of sudden, with a final solid snap of his hips, his movements faltering. A chesty moan pouring out of him as his body falls heavier into you. Your raw sensitive walls twitching as they are flooded with warmth. Several small jerking thursts pumping all of his cum into you before he drops his weight.

Letting your thigh drop back down, he rests on his elbows on either side of your head, his heavy breath fanning your face. Lightly brushing his lips to yours he kisses you through a smile.

"Such a brave girl." He mutters.

You're so tender that he has you mewling even as he pulls out of you. The movement makes you wince.

Gasping, you're surprised you can actually feel his cum shifting. It feels like it's going to run out of you. Clamping your thighs shut, your face glows again with embarrassment. You're not sure if that is supposed to happen. You thought it would stay inside. But in any case, you don't want to make a mess on his bed.

With a last satisfied grunt, he drops onto his side, leaning on his arm while still hovering above you.

"I'm so proud of you. You did so well." He smiles warmly, brushing your hair off your face, wiping away your sweat. "How do you feel?"

How do you feel? Sore, exhausted, thoroughly use, but mostly,

"Good," You grin sleepily, leaning into his touch.

"Good." He whispers back.

Shuffling a little higher, he pulls a pillow down and nudges it under your head. His arm going under your neck he wraps his other arm around you, hugging you. As you roll to your side and cuddle into him, he takes the hint and draws you in tighter. His hands rubbing up and down your back softly.

"I had a really nice time tonight Y/n." He kisses the top of your head, his chest tightening against you. "Thank you for letting me be your first."

[hxwks-gf]

» 𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖙

𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓  𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍, 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎, 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

𝚠𝚌: 𝟹.𝟻𝚔

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚍𝚘𝚖!𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚒, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔,  𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢.  𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚘𝚘

ao3 link

“Captain, please! I’m ready to be back in the field, Hange already cleared me for dutyㅡ” 

Levi whirls around to face you and jabs a finger into the center of your chest, his stone grey eyes turning to slits in frustration.“You are not ready for the field, [L/N],” he snarls. “You have proven your recklessness enough to guarantee that you will never see outside Wall Rose again.” 

You were momentarily taken aback by his sudden change in temperament; you were always so used to his disinterested stoicism. The sting of tears in your eyes forces you to look down at your feet in shame. Crying in front of the captainㅡyou had never felt more humiliated in your life. But he had no right to lock you up in the city while the rest of your squad was out beyond the wall, risking their lives. Your place was with them, and Levi knew it. 

“I’m a better Scout than half the regiment,” you finally say through gritted teeth, still staring at the ground. “You think I’m reckless? Then go bench Mikasa too, while you’re at it.” 

“Now you’re giving me orders?” he replies, dangerously soft. 

You meet his eyes. His unreadable expression has returned. “I’m telling you to treat me fairly,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“Life isn’t fair,” Levi snaps, turning away from you with a flourish of his cape. “I thought someone as smart as you would have figured that out by now.” He doesn’t stay long enough for you to spit whatever insult you had waiting on the tip of your tongue. You could do nothing but fume as Levi stalks away from you to rejoin the regiment.

Your cheeks burn with shame as you feel the eyes of the rest of the squad looking back at you in sympathy, but the sound of the horses’ hooves trotting away on the cobblestones tells you that no one is willing to stick up for you. 

You take a hesitant step forward, gazing after them, focusing on the back of Levi’s head. His dark hair was always the easiest to pick out in a crowd. As if he knew you were watching him, he turns his chin over his shoulder and those grey eyes meet your own again. A silent conversation drifts between the two of you, until he finally disappears around the corner, taking whatever he had planned to say with himㅡleaving you alone in the middle of the street. 

The sky is dark by the time you hear their return. The absence of their words was enough to tell you that the mission didn’t go as planned, and there were bound to be reports of casualties. You stand at the window of your quarters, looking down at the group of soldiers trudging along the street. Your eyes scan the faces quickly until you land on Levi’s, and the wild pace of your heartbeat lessens. He always came back. But this time he looks as if he had truly taken a beating; his face is solemn and splattered with blood. Blood that hasn’t evaporated yet, meaning it isn’t Titan blood. It’s the blood of a fallen comrade. 

A sinking feeling plagues the pit of your stomach as you turn away from the window and lower yourself into a chair at the table, waiting for him. A few minutes later, a knock sounds at your door. 

“Come in,” you call to him. 

Levi doesn’t meet your eyes as he appears and closes the door behind him, pulling his green cloak from his shoulders and dropping it to the ground in a heap. He says nothing as he unhooks his ODM gear and strips it carelessly from his body, slinging it over the back of your bed. 

“Levi?” you offer, keeping your words gentle and calm. 

“Don’t,” he says, voice low with sorrow. He stands in front of the fireplace, keeping his back to you. You notice his hands flexing at his sides, as if trying to keep control of himself. 

So you say nothing else and stay put at the table, waiting for him to speak. 

“I know you’re a better Scout than half the regiment,” Levi finally says, still facing away from you. The shadows from the fire dance along the walls of the room. “I know you can take care of yourself.” 

“So why am I on house arrest? I should be out there with you, fightingㅡ” 

“Because,” he snaps, turning his head sharply to the side, “if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” 

There it was. The confession hangs in the air as you go rigid at the table, fingernails digging into your palms. You and Levi had been doing this dance for years nowㅡbut neither of you were good at it. Missed opportunities, stolen chancesㅡthat about summed up the relationship.

“You can’t protect me forever,” you find yourself saying, slipping out of the chair and walking over to him by the fireplace. He still doesn’t look at you. You take a deep breath and simply stand beside him, the sleeve of his undershirt brushing against your arm. “Not in this world.” 

“I know,” he mutters, staring into the flames. “Every time the regiment leaves on a mission, less and less return. And after that day, when I found you covered in your own blood, I had already subconsciously made the decision to keep you safe, no matter what. Even if it meant locking you up.” 

“Look at me,” you command him, gripping his shoulder and forcing him to turn. His grey eyes are bloodshot and partnered with dark circles underneath them. The blood on his cheek is dark, like a tattoo on his skin. You reach up and trace it, flakes of it falling off at your touch. 

Levi stares at you with his eyebrows pulled together. He extends his fingers to run them through your hair, before coming to rest at the spot where your shoulder gracefully curved into your neck. His thumb draws idle circles over your clavicle, sending an onslaught of goosebumps over your skin. 

You lower your hand and look into his eyes. Such sad, lonely eyes. Eyes that truly have seen too much bloodshed, too much loss, too much sorrow. All you want to do is make it all disappear. “Let me come on the next mission,” you plead, entwining your fingers with his. His skin is cold. “You know I belong out there, beside you.” 

His dark hair falls over his forehead as he nods, closing his eyes in defeat. A beat passes, and he glares at you. “Why do you have to be such a stubborn brat?” 

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile. “Because you taught me not to take anyone’s shit, Captain.” 

Levi rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. His fingers travel from your neck and down your arm, until his hand is gripping your own and he’s pulling you towards your bed. 

“You know how much I like it when you call me ‘Captain’,” he growls, pushing you down gently until you’re laying on your back with your legs hanging off the edge. Levi nudges them apart and looms over you, the blood decorating his face making him look feral and unhinged. It excites you in a way you never imagined. He ducks down and presses a fervent kiss to your lips, wasting no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like salt and sweat, but there’s a lingering sweetness as he kisses you. His hands are braced on either side of your head. Your fingers are trying to unhook his belt and pull up his shirt, earning a low chuckle from him that reverberates past your lips and down your throat. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He reaches down and takes your wrists in his hands. He pins them above your head with ease, gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, ridden with lust. “You’re already a brat outside of this roomㅡcan’t you just behave for once?” 

“Maybe,” you purr, tilting your chin up in a silent plea for him to resume kissing you. “But where’s the fun in that?” 

Levi lets out another growl that sets off a white-hot fire in your core. He shoves his tongue in your mouth again with a groan, tightening his grip on your wrists. “Brat,” he calls you again against your mouth, unable to hide the feral need behind it. You press your thighs together to create just a little friction to ease the growing pressure between them, but Levi is quick enough to slip a hand down to keep them apart. 

“What did I say?” he says, leaning back to look at you beneath him. His eyes glint in the firelight. “Behave.” 

“Or what?” you taunt, jutting your chin out defiantly. 

Levi’s nostrils flare and the hand above your head disappears from your wrists, moving to grip your chin with surprising speed and agility. He holds your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. The pressure between your thighs is unbearable now, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of begging. Levi’s hold on your chin loosens, sliding down to wrap around your throat. He’s enjoying this too much. 

He leans down and takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently but firmly. “Behave, or I’ll have no choice but to punish you.” Levi’s eyes glitter as he traces your swollen lip with the pad of his thumb. “Unless that’s what you really want.” 

You say nothing, but your tongue darts out to wet your lips. A breath hitches in his throat as he watches it, his hand still wrapped around your throat. He squeezes, and the blood rushes to your ears. You could feel yourself becoming a soaking mess right underneath him. 

“Teach me a lesson,” you say breathlessly, almost pleadingly. “Captain.” 

With a wild snarl, Levi’s hand disappears from your throat and hooks around the back of your knee, roughly shoving your legs apart. He pushes his fingers underneath your shirt and grasps at your breasts, momentarily dropping his head against your navel and groaning in lust. You throw your head back in pleasure as he pinches your nipple, already peaked and stiff for him. 

“Get this off,” he commands, withdrawing his hands and gesturing to your shirt. You obey, pulling it up and over your head. He runs his tongue across his teeth as you lay exposed to him, the dim light from the dying fire illuminating the curves and dips of your torso. Levi braces himself over you again, sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot of your neck. As he works with his warm tongue and teeth, he frees a hand to tug at your pants. A silent command. 

You shimmy out of them to the best of your ability as he marks your neck. You now lay completely naked underneath him, wholly at his mercy. A pained moan escapes you as he bites down on a particularly sensitive spot, and his hips push against yours in earnest. You could feel his hard-on bulging through his pants, sending dark shivers straight down your spine and into your core. 

“Please,” you whisper into his ear, his dark hair tickling your nose. You can’t take it anymore. His lustful scent invades your sensesㅡall you can smell, hear, see, and breathe was him. 

“Are you finally begging?” he growls, pulling back to look at you. 

“Don’t you like it when I beg?” you ask him, dizzy with desire. You want him so bad. So bad, you know you’ll do just about anything for him. 

Levi’s throat bobs as he swallows, but he quickly regains himself. “Yes,” he says, pulling himself off of you entirely. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him strip his sweat-stained shirt over his head, revealing the sharp and defined muscles hidden beneath. Without breaking eye contact with you, Levi unhooks his belt and slides it from his pants, folding it in half. Your eyes widen as you realize his intention. 

“Turn around.” 

You do so without any hesitation, pressing your chest and stomach into the bed, ass exposed. As you rest your head on your crossed arms, Levi gently trails the leather belt over your skin, starting from the middle of your shoulder blades and ending at your backside. He’s completely silent. You shiver with the anticipation, wondering when he’ll actuallyㅡ

CRACK! 

A pained but pleasured wail escapes you as he brutally whips your ass, the delicious sting reverberating throughout your entire body. You hear him let out a stifled moan, and the faint touch of leather returns. You’re absolutely dripping now, feeling the beads of your slick sliding down your thighs. One of his hands moves to grip your hip to steady you. You can feel each individual fingertip digging into your skin. 

“Beg.” 

The single word is enough to send you into a lust-filled haze. Before you could answer, Levi brings the belt down again, cracking across your skin. You cry out for him again, a mix of sobs and moans. “P-please,” you manage to choke out between pleasured sobs. “Captainㅡ” 

“Fuck,” you hear him groan, and the sound of the belt clattering to the ground echoes through the room. Both of his hands are on you now, one still attached to your hip and the other sliding up the center of your spine to rest at the base of your skull, fingers wrapping around your nape and shoving your face into the blankets. You’re not sure when he found the time to slip his pants down, but your ass bucks toward him once you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “Beg for my cock, brat,” he hisses.

“Please give it to me,” you plead, words muffled by the blanket. “Fill me with it, Captain.” 

His fingers fist in your hair and Levi roughly jerks your head up by the roots. His chest presses against your back as he leans over you to press his lips to your ear. “I can’t hear you.” 

“Please!” you cry out, nearly sobbing. 

He releases you, your head falling back into the sheets. His hands splay over your hips and you instinctively lift your ass higher for him. You hear him chuckle darkly. “So eager,” he murmurs, running his palm over the smooth skin of your backside. Without warning, he lands a swift smack against it, earning another sinful moan from you. “It seems like you enjoy the pain.” 

You can barely think straight. The pressure in your core was too much to bear, too much to handle. “Levi,” you pant, calling him by his name now, “pleaseㅡ” 

He slams his cock into your entrance without another word. You tip your head back and let loose a string of moans and curses, a symphony of pleasure for his ears only. He slides his member out painfully slow, until only the tip is left. Levi pauses there, listening to your incoherent sobs, until he snaps his hips forward and slams so deep into you again. 

“God,” you manage to gasp out, breathing heavily. He begins to thrust into you at a brutal pace with his hands still gripping your hips tightly. The onslaught of pleasure is almost too much for you to handle as your vision starts to blur with tears, mouth open in an eternal expression of ecstasy as Levi fucks you senseless. “Godㅡfuckㅡ” 

“You’re right,” he grunts, the wet slap of skin hitting skin filling the room, “I am your god.” 

“Y-yes,” you moan, fisting the sheets in your hands. “You are.” 

Levi’s thrusts don’t falter as his hands disappear from your hips and snake around your torso. With one swift motion, he’s lifting you up and pressing your back against his chest, sitting on his haunches. He bounces his hips to keep you bobbing on his cock, his muscled arms wrapping around you and finding your throat again. His breath tickles your skin as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, suckling the skin and branding you as his. 

“Fuck!” You’re overwhelmed by the multiple stimulations, feeling the pull in your core growing hotter and hotter. 

Levi growls in your ear, a string of saliva stretching from his lips to your skin. His fingers constrict around your throat. “You make the sweetest noises,” he growls into your shoulder, quickening the pace of his thrusts. “Sing for me.” 

You do as he says, letting out another wail of pleasure, tipping your head back to rest against the crook of his neck. 

Levi hums in approval and slows down, much to your disappointment. You were so closeㅡa few more seconds, and you would have been a complete mess in his arms. But Levi isn’t stupid; he’s figured out your tells and knows just when to stop in order to drive you absolutely crazy for his cock. He pulls out of you completely and gently adjusts you on the bed so you’re laying on your back, looking up at him with eyes that are feral with desire. He runs his hands over your thighs in admiration, leaning down to leave a trail of nips and kisses along your navel. 

“Levi,” you softly plead, reaching for him. 

He slides up and hovers over you, dark hair falling over his sweaty forehead. His grey eyes blink slowly at you in the dark, the light of the embers glinting off of them. Your hands travel over his muscled arms, broad chest, taut shoulders, until they come to rest on his cheeks. You cradle them gently, and the two of you stay like that for a few momentsㅡjust staring at each other. 

He speaks first. “If anything ever happened to youㅡif anyone tried to take you away from meㅡI will tear this entire world apart with my bare hands.” 

“Why?” you ask, pulling his face closer and pressing your forehead against his. 

“You know why,” Levi murmurs, his hot breath fanning over your mouth. You kiss him, running your tongue over his teeth. 

“I want to hear it,” you whisper, pulling away. His cock is twitching against your entrance again. You wrap your legs around his, urging him to slip inside of youㅡand he does, with a tight groan. Levi dips his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to fuck you again, slowly and carefully. You’re pressed so tightly against him, you’re not sure where your skin ends and his begins. You move as one, thrusting together languidly, sharing breaths and holding onto each other as if even the slightest amount of slack would make the other disappear. 

“Say it,” you plead, lifting his head up to look him in the eyes. His jaw is set as he holds back his groans, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face. “Please.” 

“Goddammit,” Levi moans and closes his eyes. His hips falter in their thrusts, his breathing becoming ragged. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, running your fingers through his ebony hair. He obeys, opening his eyes again and finding yours. They’re glazed over with lust as he nears his climax. “Tell me.” 

“You’re mine,” he finally gasps out, his entire body becoming tense and taut. “Do you understand me?” His thrusts become erratic and quick, slapping against your skin. “Mine.” He bares his teeth like an animal, and you feel the tip of his cock press against that spongy part deep inside of youㅡsending you right over the edge. You cry out out his name over and over again as you ride through your glorious orgasm, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. 

“Fuckㅡnghㅡgoddammit,” Levi growls, gasping for breath as you clench around his cock. A few seconds later, you feel him explode inside of you, filling you with his seed. Droplets of sweat fall from his forehead and drip onto your cheeks. 

He pulls out of you with a groan. You lay there, spent and exhausted, while he fetches a wet cloth from the washbasin and proceeds to clean you up. He works silently and diligently, making sure you’re pristine before he rinses the cloth and hangs it up to dry. Your eyelids are already drooping as you listen to him clean himself up at the washbasin, cracking your eyes open again when you feel the bed dip as he climbs into it and settles in beside you. 

“So I’m yours, huh?” you mindlessly murmur into his chest, draping an arm over his torso. “No one else’s?” 

“Don’t start with me,” he sighs, exhaustion lacing his words. “Go to sleep.” 

“Should I beg again?” 

“Do you want stable duty for the next three months?” 

You laugh. The warmth of the fire and the afterglow of your love-making is a match made in heaven for a good night’s sleep, the dreaming world calling your name over and over again. But you need to hear Levi say it againㅡsober, not just in a sex-fueled craze. “Just once, and I’ll leave it alone.” 

Levi doesn’t say anything right away, but his arm that’s curled around your shoulders pulls you in closer. You feel his cool lips press themselves to the top of your head, and he inhales the scent of your hair. 

“You’re mine,” he finally breathes, so softly that you’re afraid you’ve imagined it. But a few moments pass and he pulls away. “Brat.” 

A ghost of a smile graces your face, hidden in the dark. It was enough. 

i guess i officially write for captain levi now, and i’m not even mad. 

@baroque-baby​ @pimpnamedslickback1�� since you guys asked for it specifically 

[darthmaulification]

savage opress NSFW alphabet

A/N: finally! i got this finished!!

*pounds chest* me love big zabrak man!!! and i am in 100% support for soft!savage so y’all are gonna see a ton of that here. 💀 

also, i had to do so much mental math with this one because savage is so darn tootin’ tall (7ft 1in, from what i’ve read) that relating his you-know-what’s size relative to him was ✨challenging✨ but also 😳🥴🥵💦 if ya know what i mean.

and i mention the maul nsfw alphabet i wrote a couple of times in here, so go check that one out for more clarification on a few points if you feel so inclined. 😊💕

nfsw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Savage is always a bit unsure of himself in how he cares for others, but his aftercare is immaculate. Every time, there’s this brief window of Post Coital Cuddles where he just holds you in his arms and purrs like there’s no tomorrow, and I mean like near full body vibrations, he’s purring so damn hard and loud. More often than not, this is usually the part where Savage passes out, usually he’s too darn sleepy to finish the rest of the aftercare. However, if he does manage to keep his eyes moment for a few minutes longer, Savage kisses you all over, asks you what you need, and will get the job done in the most tender and sweet way possible.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Savage is a sap and would say that all of you is his favorite, and honestly mean it. He thinks that you and your body are nothing but perfect, all of it. He’ll compliment you with the utmost sincerity, telling you just how beautiful you are whenever and wherever. Savage loves to look at you, to feel you, to worship you. He enjoys all of the squishier parts of you especially, whether that be your thighs, tummy, ass, breasts, etc etc. He loves that you’re so soft compared to him.

However, for as much as he’s able to see the beauty in others, Savage has trouble seeing the beauty in himself. He feels like a monster most of the time, feels like he’s been deformed by his enhancements. It’s not easy for him to choose a favorite part of his body, because he honestly doesn’t like his body. So, you’ll have to coax him into learning to love himself, which isn’t and won’t be easy, but Savage needs to learn that he is allowed and has earned the right to treat himself with love. This will lead to whatever your favorite part of him to be his favorite, whatever that may be.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Savage cums buckets. Like... an ungodly amount of nut. It’s thick, white, and Maker, it is virile. His sperm count is off the fucking charts, and he knows it. Savage makes sure to cum inside you every time, unless you specifically ask him not to. He pushes balls deep, up to the hilt, and lets loose inside you, absolutely coating your walls in sticky, creamy white. It’s usually so much that the moment he pulls out, it literally spills out of you, and something about that sight has Savage genuinely horny all over again. If it’s okay with you, because he always asks before he does anything, Savage will push it back in with a couple fingers.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

... Okay, so be nice to him... Savage has a Mommy kink. It’s nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely there. He wants to call you to Mommy, listen to everything you say and tell him to do, be your “Good boy”. Honestly, it’s enough if you just call him the name, if you’re not comfortable with the title, and if you’re his gentle femdom (he would literally worship you). 

Thing is, he might never tell you this because it embarrasses him beyond belief, like cripplingly embarrassing, and he doesn’t know how you’ll react if he told you.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

To be honest, Savage has had no experience. Mostly, it’s because he was raised in an environment where he was taught that his purpose in life was only fighting, so he was never given/had the opportunity of sex. He never had the chance to explore that avenue with another person, because there was no one to explore it with and he was being trained half to death most of the time. Of course, he’s picked up things throughout his life from others, so he’s not clueless and has a semi-idea of how to please someone. So when you and him do the do for the first time, Savage is unsure of himself, a bit clumsy, and kinda self-deprecating. You’ll need to talk to him, tell him that he’s welcome to your body and that you want him, and walk him through some of the actions. So while your first time with Savage may be a bit... disorganized to put it gently, it is also so full of mutual love and respect and care that it is perfect.

And, fortunately for you and him, Savage is a very quick learner.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Savage is a big guy and he knows this, so most of the positions you and him have to take is honestly a lot more for your safety than anything else. Especially at the beginning, Savage will want to be as safe as possible, so it’s most likely going to involve you on top of him, but as he gets more confident in his abilities, he’ll be more open to topping you. When it gets to that point of mutual trust, his favorite positions include:

Missionary. This position is just super personal and intimate for him. It allows Savage to see your every reaction, every gasp and moan you let out. He likes being face-to-face with you, being able to kiss you all over the whole time is especially important to him. Savage also likes missionary for being able to indulge on his size kink a bit, seeing you small and beneath him with his dick bulging inside you makes him so horny.

Cowgirl. Savage loves it when you ride him! He loves being able to watch you bounce on his dick, watching your breasts and anywhere else soft jiggle, being able to feel you up. Savage also likes when you top, being under you is just as nice as being above you (though he will admit the view from below is something real special).

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Savage isn’t goofy, but he also isn’t serious. He doesn’t do a whole lot of teasing, preferring to give you exactly what you ask of him, but he isn’t so stoic as to be overly focused. He is in that warm middleground where he’s just an utter sap, just making sure he’s doing the best job he can just for you.

Sometimes though, if Savage is in a particularly playful mood, and especially if you both are, he’ll have you smiling and giggling from silly antics that he’ll do to please you. One of his go-to’s is flirtatiously flexing his muscles for you, which is a very nice sight.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Like I mentioned in my Maul NSFW alphabet, male Zabrak don’t have hair anywhere on their bodies. So Savage is completely smooth below the belt. He also doesn’t have a preference towards the hair you do or don’t have, Savage believes it isn’t his place to tell you what to do with your body.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Very. Savage has never been as close to someone as he is with you, so he wears his heart on his sleeve. Sex with Savage is overwhelming in its kindness, he indulges on the closeness that he’s never really had before with another person in this way. Savage practically melts into your arms, wanting so badly to show you how much he adores you, he opens his very soul to you. Intimacy, despite his cold upbringing, comes naturally to him, if not a bit surprising, but Savage wouldn’t have it any other way.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... not really, to be honest. He did “more” in his youth, when he could, but even then it was very secretive and few and far between. So yeah, Savage has indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he really doesn’t find the time nor motivation to yank it. Especially with you in his life, Savage is set.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Savage does indeed have quite a few kinks, but he’s also a bit sheepish about them. He’ll tell you if you ask, but he’ll get all fidgety and awkward, so please be nice to him. Here’s his main ones:

Size kink. Savage is often self-conscious about his daunting height and bulk, but if there’s one area where he’s not, it’d be when he’s balls deep inside you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his length and the bulge that appears under your tummy. Something about it drives him near feral and makes him weak in the knees. He also loves how big his hands look as the travel your body, engulfing your skin with his palms and splayed fingers.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. He’s always liked kids, he would like kids with you, so Savage has a near crippling breeding kink. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t think about fucking you full of his seed and starting a family with you. He wants it so badly, to see you pregnant with his child, but he isn’t sure how to raise it to you. So, it’ll be a lot of very specific dirty talk and passing comments until he finally gathers the courage to tell you that he really really wants kids (and seeing you swollen with his baby and milk is just a bonus).

Praise kink. Savage loves to give praise and he loves to receive it! He’ll be complimenting and encouraging you the whole time, telling you how sexy your body is, how pretty you are to look at, how soft you are, how much he loves you, etc etc. His mouth gives only the most sincere, loving praise that’ll have you holding back tears with how kind it is. And if you say nice things back??? Savage is putty in your hands. Words cannot describe how much it means to him if you tell him how good he’s making you feel, how he’s doing so well, that he’s also sexy and that you love his body... or if you call him a “Good boy”.

Predator/prey. Despite his overall kind decorum, Savage really has a predator/prey kink, like more so than Maul, which is saying something. He really likes a good chase before doing the do, gets the blood pumping to all the right places. And while he never wants you scared of him, he does toy around and give you a good spook during the hunt to catch you off guard. Savage enjoys the startled shrieks that he’s able to smother with kisses until he has you panting and giggling.

Scent kink. Honestly, this is his Monkey Brain Zabrak mind rearing it’s head. Savage really just likes sniffing you all over, taking in your scent and committing it to memory. He especially loves smelling your hair and, more vulgarly, your pussy. To him, the aroma that is you is something he gets drunk on.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Savage is most comfortable and secure in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean it’s his favorite. He finds (after a while, of course, and gaining more experience) that he really really likes to fuck in the precarious spot that is the fucking throne room. It’s scandalous and dirty and bold, especially for Savage, but Maker, if he doesn’t love dragging you there in the dead of night and rawing you behind the throne.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

There are two sure fire ways to get Savage hard in his pants that are completely opposite. One, Savage has a thing for you playing all cute with him. If you give him puppy dog eyes and act coy and helpless and needy, he’s on you as soon as he can be. Two, you act bold. Savage will get hot around the collar if you get get firm with him in public and whisper to him exactly what you want. He finds it very hard to say no to you if you give him such a compelling order.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Sadism. Savage just can’t do it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He ties pain to the bouts of frustrated rage he’s prone to, pain that he inflicts on others that really hurt, or even kill them. Savage gets nightmares about laying his hands on you like that.

Also, Savage would not like being physically restrained in any way. That is a huge turn off for him, because it makes a lot of bad memories bubble to the surface.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Savage wants nothing more than to eat you out. From the first time he ever tasted you, he was hooked. He’s addicted to your unique taste, sweet and perfect on his tongue, your warm, velvety pussy, that cute clit. Savage would spend hours with his head between your legs, mindful of his horns, if he could. He’ll lap at you like a dog, licking and kissing like he’s savoring a fine wine. Savage will have you cumming over and over again until your sobbing for him to stop.

His love for giving head honestly impedes his love for receiving head. He likes it when you do, mostly because it amuses and arouses him to see you struggle to take as much of him as you can, but it just doesn’t compare to eating you like a dessert. But if you do wish to go down on him, feel free to. Savage loves to see your tiny mouth work on his massive cock.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

SOFTIE ALERT SOFTIE ALERT!! Savage is so fucking sweet when he fucks because he puts so much thought and energy into it, he is the definition of making love. Savage fucks you hard and intensely, but it’s so careful and generous, because he doesn’t want to hurt you and just wants to treat you right. Savage literally could be blowing out your back, but it still feels like he’s worshipping your body like he’s at a temple.

Now PDA... Savage blushes if you hold his hand. He’s fairly alright with displaying the relationship, but if you do he’s a flustered, lovesick mess. He likes having a hand on you, especially holding yours, but if he has one on your lower back, he’s so awkward and sweet about it, but deep down it makes him feel really proud. Like, no one else gets to say that your his, and that has him so happy! PDA with Savage may be small, but it’s very cute.

Though if you kiss him in public, his brain shuts down and he swoons.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Once you two have been at it for a while, Savage grows more and more fond of the appeal of quickies. He likes a good, quick release, though it doesn’t compare to having hours alone with you, but it’s fun nonetheless. Savage will most likely seek a quickie from you if there’s a lull in the day, when his and your schedules slow down enough to run back to your bedroom all giggly and flirty just to go a quick round or two.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Savage is so-so on experimenting. He’s very nervous about trying stuff that’s a bit more... drastic, so it’ll really depend on what you’re asking him to try. Though, if you coax him just enough and assure him that your with him on this, Savage will be a bit more sure of the situation and more likely to try stuff out.

As for taking risks though, like genuine risks, the only one he kinda allows himself is that rare throne room fuck that happens once in a blue moon when the climate’s right for it. Other than that, Savage doesn’t like doing too much risky stuff in the bedroom.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

A damn long time. Maybe it’s because he’s Zabrak, or maybe it’s because of his enhancements, but Savage has stamina for days. He’s easily able to last 4-5 rounds before his cock starts to protest, but even then he’ll push himself if you ask him to (though you probably will be too far gone by that point). Savage makes you cockdumb nearly every time you have sex, simply because he can just keep fucking. Like his dick stays hard even through the refractory period, and he stays just horny from when it all started. Savage, though he is embarrassed to admit this, is insatiable.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Savage has literally never even seen a toy in person. He has no idea how they work, what they’re used for, why people use them, what’s the appeal... He is painfully clueless. So if you want to bring toys into the mix, you’ll have to thoroughly run them down to Savage or he might get put off. Depending on the toy, he might get a little iffy around it and unsure.

The only toy that’s blacklisted for sure is any type of restraint. He does not like those.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Savage is... kinda bad at teasing. He’s just too darn sweet to tease!! He can’t find it in his heart to have you begging... for too long, that is. He may be a softie, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover. Savage with lightly tease throughout, toying with you a little bit before he gives in to both yours and his desires, and ravishes you.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Loud. Savage, when he isn’t very sweetly teasing you, he will be grunting and groaning and moaning your name like there’s no tomorrow. He sounds like a wild animal, all growls and snarls, rumbling deep in his throat like thunder on the horizon. It’s near constant too, and very very sexy. And, if it’s during his heat or your squeezing his cock just right, Savage won’t even be able to talk, and he’ll be reduced to a moaning, panting mess until he’s able to gather himself again.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

I follow the headcanon that Zabrak go through heat/rut cycles, but I expand more on it here in Maul’s NSFW alphabet. Basically, it’s about the same for Savage; he had an upbringing where his sexuality was suppressed, which severely jacked up his heat cycle’s circadian rhythm, that led to years of feelings of inadequacy and shame, which then eventually led to Savage having a mini sexual resurgence once he was free from his main oppressors and oppression.

That being said, Savage’s heat cycle doesn’t come often, as it and he is still healing, but when it does he gets a bit more riled up and snippy. He’s just generally more grumpy and gets hypersensitive to smells/sounds which will make him snap at people. But he’s still Savage, so he’s still a sweetheart in his soul, if not a gruff one.

But Savage still suffers a bit from the whole shame surrounding his biology, so at first he won’t want you around when he goes into heat. It is shame, he doesn’t want you to see him like that. But you’re smart enough to catch on eventually, and you’ll really have to wriggle yourself in and pull him out of his comfort zone at the same time. Savage needs to be let known that his physiology is normal and fine, and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You’ll meet a bit of push back at first, because you are trying to undo years of abuse, but eventually Savage comes around.

He still gives you the option if you want to stay with him or not, because he’s thoughtful like that. If you decide to stay with him and “help him out” so to say... expect long, fun nights.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Savage is literally just 7 feet of pure muscle. He already towers over most others, but his burly figure also has the tendency to intimidate. Savage is positively stacked, with the physique of an Olympic bodybuilder. He’s got shoulders wide enough to sit a person on either side of his head, strong arms to match, and an absolutely exquisite pair of brawny chest muscles. Savage doesn’t have washboard abs like Maul, but he isn’t exactly dad bod either, he sits in the middleground of some definition of his muscles and a light brushing of pudge. His long, beefy legs are also particularly fun to enjoy, especially those thighs of his... and his nice ass.

And of course, Savage’s inky black tattoos paint him delectably everywhere else on his body, engraving sharp patterns all over his canary yellow skin. He also has scars scattered over his body, mostly on his hands and arms, but there are a few long ones on his back from, ones that have silvered in age, that bring about very bad memories. Savage doesn’t like talking about them.

Now his schlong... Maker you are in for it. Savage has a really, really big cock between his legs that you can thank to the enhancements his body received. Savage’s penis is 11 inches (27.94 cm) when fully erect and is just under 3.5 inches (8.89 cm) in diameter, so he is positively hung. Like all Zabrak penises, it’s ridged down the shaft and he is uncut. His balls are also fairly big, due to his size, and they sit lower from their weight.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before Savage met you, his sex drive was relatively low. He was focused entirely on other things, most of which he didn’t really have a say in the matter, that drew a lot of his time and energy. Often, he was so exhausted that sex, and even sexual urges, literally never crossed his mind. Now after he’s met you, and has caught feelings nearly instantly, Savage finds himself thinking about fucking you a lot. Before you officially started a relationship, he spent many nights indulging himself with the thought of you and his hand. And when you both started dating, Savage damn near gets horny every time he looks at you. He realizes that he really likes sex, specifically he really likes it with you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Savage already has the tendency to sleep like a log after strenuous activities, so after you and him have done the Devil’s dance a couple times, he passes out almost instantly. Albeit, you’ll probably pass out just as fast too, so you both tend to fall asleep all sticky and messy and stupid happy. He does try though, to remain awake to give you solid aftercare, but listen, this mans is tired and he was wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. Though, he does sometimes stay aware enough to clean you up, just in case you don’t wanna go to bed sticky.

[ahkaahshi]

of picnics and persuasion [miya atsumu x reader]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, size kink, public sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, swearing, you kinda squirt but it’s nothin too crazy lol

word count: 2.5k

overview: hindsight’s 20/20, but you should’ve known atsumu wanted you to wear a sundress to your picnic for a reason other than “’cause it looks good on ya.”

In the secluded area of the park where you’ve created a small silver of paradise under a cluster of trees, you watch the shards of vibrant sunlight shift between the leaves casting a kaleidoscope of shadows over your body. The sounds of the late afternoon breeze whistling past, distant conversations, and the scurrying of nearby animals mingle with the soft music playing from your boyfriend’s phone where it lies on the blanket, amongst an array of quickly diminishing food. Absentmindedly, your fingers card through Atsumu’s golden strands of hair, making him tighten the grip he has around your waist and nuzzle his face against your stomach.

“That tickles!” you giggle, giving his head as gentle a push as you can muster when he refuses to budge. He lets out a small sigh of contentment and gives one of your thighs a squeeze before retreating from his position and sitting up so he can help himself to another handful of gummy bears located in a nearby bag.

His arms soon extend out towards you as he beckons, “C’mere, babe.” Placing your hands in his, you allow him to guide you closer to him so you can settle yourself in his lap. A small smile appears across his lips as his amber colored eyes take in every part of you—from the stray strands of (h/c) hair that have fallen in front of your ears to the supple skin on your thighs peering out from beneath the soft fabric of your sundress. “Did I already tell ya how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, (f/n)?”

Heat rushes to your face, then floods your stomach when he leans down to press a tender kiss against your lips followed by another on your neck. “’Tsumu…” you hum nearly inaudibly, “what’s gotten into you, hmm? It’s not every day that you give me compliments without tacking some smart comment onto them.”

“Oh, be quiet,” he complains, grabbing another gummy bear and tapping it against your lip. Obediently, you open your mouth so he can drop it onto your tongue. “Can’t a man just be all in love with his girlfriend without gettin’ dragged?” A small snicker escapes your mouth as you chew the sweet treat and observe the way his hand moves over to yours so he can place your palms together.

He marvels at how his fingers extend beyond yours, and how small they feel laced between his when he slides them together and rests them atop his leg. His other hand takes to traveling the path from your knee to your waist a few times, as if the action soothes him. The intimate nature of his touches in combination with the sensation of his slightly calloused palm against your skin and the pecks he’s littering across your collarbones make your heart flutter in your chest.

When you feel his teeth nibble at your neck, you breathe, “Baby, stop. You’re gonna get me all worked up,” and shift uncomfortably in his lap.

His grip tightens ever so slightly to hold you in place. “Is that so?” he questions coyly, pulling away from your neck so he can shoot you that signature smirk of his. “What if I told ya that’s what I wanted, huh?” Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his fingertips fiddling with the hem of your dress.

Though your resolve is slowly crumbling at his touch—as it had an annoying habit of doing—you argue, “Can’t you at least wait ‘til we get home?”

“Who says we hafta wait?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the law?”

He scoffs at your retort and comments, “C’mon, honey, we both know that if I don’t fuck ya right here, yer just gonna end up riding me in the front seat of the car. Waitin’ ‘til we get home ain’t even an option at this point.” You quickly avert your gaze in a futile attempt to hide the effects of the heat rising to your face as well as the pout that forms on your lips at being so irritatingly transparent. A small breath of satisfaction at knowing he’s seen through you once again rushes out of his nose as he trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna even notice my hand takin’ a little detour, do you?”

His words light a fire in your stomach that burns hotter underneath the pads of his fingertips as they move beneath the skirt of your dress to inch closer to your painfully throbbing core. You curse the shuddering breath that escapes your lips when his nail grazes the small bow adorning the top of your underwear. “Atsumu,” you sigh.

“Yer wearin’ those lacy panties I bought for ya, ain’tcha?” he muses, admiring the small crinkle of your eyebrows he knows from experience appears moments before you quietly plead for more. He brings his face closer to your ear, feeling his growing erection strain against his pants at your unsteady breathing, and whispers, “I wish I could see how pretty they look all soaked ‘cause of me.” A soft whimper echoes from your throat when he slides his fingers across the wet material between your legs.

“What if someone sees?” you whine, tightening your grip on his shoulders, causing the material of his t-shirt to bunch up beneath your fingertips.

In response, he presses a reassuring kiss against your lips and murmurs, “Sees what?” His feigned cluelessness would be infuriating to you if his digits weren’t slowly pushing your underwear aside so they could venture along your exposed slit. “We’re just two lovers in the park havin’ an intimate conversation, is all.”

The devious grin on his face widens when a teasing touch against your clit changes your tune. “Please,” you utter, any filter or reservations you had before going straight to hell. Now that he’s spreading that fire between your legs with his well-placed pokes and prods, there’s no way you’re going to tell him to stop.

“There she is,” he purrs, his lips finding your neck once more to shower it with tender kisses before pulling away once more so he can watch you. As his fingers move from your clit to your entrance, he finds that you’re too tight to take in more than one of them. “It’s okay, baby girl. Let me into that cute, little pussy of yours ‘nd I’ll make ya feel so good. I promise.” His words have you clenching even harder against his finger, nearly pushing it out of you entirely, but the feeling of his thumb circling your bundle of nerves as his other hand massages your hipbone helps alleviate the issue.

Soon, he’s able to slide two fingers in with relative ease and use them to knead the spongy area deep inside of you. “Fuck…” you hiss under your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His skilled digits are soon pumping in and out of you slowly, and his thumb dragging across your pearl with each thrust is edging you closer to your orgasm in no time. “More… please! I want more.”

The desperation in your tone makes his dick throb painfully, which he voices with a low groan into your neck. “Think ya can take me, sweetheart?” he asks, though he already knows what your answer will be.

“Mm!” you confirm enthusiastically with a nod, opening your eyes to meet his curious gaze, “I wanna feel you inside me, ‘Tsumu.”

“In a public place where anyone could see us? Damn, yer horny as hell, ain’tcha?”

You furrow your eyebrows with indignation and grumble, “You started it.”

“I did,” he admits, bringing his face closer to your ear so he can nip at the shell of it, “And I intend ta finish it. Same goes for you as well.” After planting an affectionate kiss against your lips before you can even respond, his free hand’s darting beneath the cover your dress’s skirt provides to unbutton his pants and unzip his fly. “So good to me, baby,” he whispers as he drags his fingers coated in your essence along your slit once more, sending a small jolt of pleasure through your body and causing your hips to buck against him impatiently.

A glance downwards reveals a distinct lump beneath the flowing cotton material that makes you swallow thickly. Though your pussy is practically dripping with anticipation, you know his size is going to stretch your walls painfully. Quietly, you request, “Please be gentle.”

“’Course,” is his reassuring response as he uses his grip on your hips to align your entrance with his cock. Once you’re shifted into the appropriate position, he uses light pressure to bring you down onto him at a slow pace.

However, the sounds of nearby voices startle you, and you pause, refusing to budge. Both yours and Atsumu’s gazes dart about your surroundings until you both spot another couple wandering along the path nearby. Though there’s ample foliage shrouding you from their view, you still feel nervous at the thought of being caught; but you must admit the adrenaline rush also goes straight to your core. Unbothered by the possibility of being spotted—and probably turned on by it, instead--Atsumu pulls you down onto him enough to push the pulsing head of his cock into your pussy.

You’re almost entirely sure the couple can hear the squeal you release, but they don’t stop walking or glance in your direction at all. When you shoot your boyfriend a less than pleased look, his only defense is, “Don’t worry, baby; I’ll make sure nobody sees us,” but he adds, “Though there are people out there who enjoy watchin’, ya know. Can’t do anythin’ about them.”

You respond with a light smack against his arm, but he soon ends your conversation by inching himself deeper inside of you. The way you clench around him at the slightly painful sensation reminds him of just how small your sweet, little core is compared to his large dick, and he loves it. Since your face is contorted in discomfort, he tilts his chin up to capture your lips with his.

“Jus’ relax, sweetheart,” he soothes between kisses as he takes to running one of his hands up and down your back. His words and tender touches eventually melt your pain away, and you allow him to slowly plunge into your warm depths until his tip bumps your cervix. “Fuck, (f/n); your pussy feels so goddamn good.” Heat pools in your abdomen at his praise, and another low hum rumbles in his throat when your walls flutter affectionately around him.

Gently, you move your hips against his at a pace that feels most comfortable for you, and that he matches his long but deep strokes. His arms encircle you, bringing your chest closer to his face so he can tease your nipples, which he can see poking against the thin fabric of your dress since you’re not wearing a bra. It’s a good choice, he thinks, since he can use his teeth to stimulate them without having to expose you. It’s almost as if you came on this picnic date prepared to fuck him in the park—although, you wearing the loose sundress was his idea. He had to pride himself for that, since he was now reaping the rewards of his suggestion.

As much as you want to speed up and let him pound into you mercilessly, you’re both able to show a bit of restraint given the nature of the situation. But that certainly doesn’t mean the experience is any less enjoyable by a long shot. He adds more pleasure to every meeting of your hips by including his fingers in the mix for you to grind against. Given how unsettled you’d felt at the idea initially, you’re surprised how quickly you find yourself getting lost in the moment and approaching your orgasm. Each precisely placed thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body that force you to stifle your moans with your hand, and Atsumu’s eagerness to indulge your needy pussy encourages him to bounce you up and down on his lap with a bit more speed and force.

“Just like that, baby,” you tell him breathlessly, leaning into the hand he has resting against your stomach so he can feel his dick prodding it from inside you with every snap of his hips. “So good…”

His gaze travels from your breasts back up to your face so he can admire your expressions as you get closer to coming undone. “I know yer close. Cum all over my cock for me, princess.” The way his fingers stimulate your sensitive spot has you orgasming only a few seconds after he’s uttered his gentle command. With a mewl muffled by your hand, you feel ecstasy overtake your entire body as you gush all over him and squeeze him tightly enough to make him press his face into your chest once more to stifle a loud groan.

“That’s it,” he praises shakily, tightening his grip on your hips and holding you down so he can feel the effects of your climax on every inch of his dick. “So fucking good, baby.” With a final, particularly forceful thrust, he releases inside of you and rides out his own high as you drape your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

When you’re both finished, you take a moment to regain your breath and your composure before daring to open your eyes and see if you’d raised any suspicions. Thankfully, you don’t find anyone watching you with horror—or rapt attention, much to your relief, since either would be mortifying. Atsumu’s lips peppering your chest with gentle kisses draws your gaze to him as he lifts his head to regard you with somewhat hazy eyes. You chuckle at his slightly dazed expression, though you’re sure you look more than fucked out as well.

“That was so hot,” he comments with a sigh of contentment before pressing a loving kiss against your lips, “Who woulda guessed that you ‘nd I would end up fuckin’ during a picnic of all things today?”

You reply, “Not me, that’s for sure.” After allowing your lips a few more moments to catch up on all the kisses you’d been avoiding for the purpose of being as discreet as possible, Atsumu lifts you off of him so he can make himself decent before pushing your skirt away. “Let’s go, ‘Tsumu. The last thing we need is to get busted for having sex in public.”

“We’re gonna be fine!” he grumbles and dismisses your worries with a wave of the hand, “Could ya hand me one of the bags of food, though?” You raise an eyebrow at him, since you’re hardly in the mood to stick around after what you’ve just done. With a roll of the eyes, he leans in closer to you and informs you, “There’s a wet spot on my pants that needs covering up, thanks ta you, so, hand it over ‘nd we can get outta here.”

“Are you complaining?”

“’Course not! In fact, I can’t wait ‘til we get home so you can do it all over again.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen​, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin​

atsumu: @pretty-setters​, @misora-msby​, @why-aminot-dead​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @atsunakaashi​, @heyhinata​, @why-aminot-dead​

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 15: Restless

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

Warnings: ahem. ahem. smut.

-------------------------------------

You tried opening your eyes, but they were immensely heavy. Your body was stuck in a kind of sleep paralysis. It was something you remembered a third-year student mentioning once, but it seldom happened to you. Your irritation spread as you tried moving your limbs, to no avail.

“How is she?” You heard a voice. It was a woman, but your mind was not strong enough to recognize who.

“I have been giving her the potion three times a day. The venom from the serperus is out of her system. It should take another day,” another voice said. It was Professor Laufeyson.

What happened? You wanted to say. Where am I?

You felt a hand beneath your head and cool metal against your lips. A liquid poured into your mouth that was slightly bitter but not disgustingly so. It had an undertone of…grapefruit? You drank deeply until it was done and the cup was gone. A hand ran across your forehead in repeated gentle caresses.

“It’s going to be alright, love. Just get some rest and come back to me,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You wanted to wrap your arms around him so badly. But your consciousness was pulling you down into the darkness of sleep again. You were tired, but all you wanted to do was wake up and be back in the garden with him before everything went to shit. You wanted to tell him you were ready to make love to him, and that your deepest desire was to kiss him until the sun rose and then keep on going until the end of time. All those things were what you wished for and you fell asleep, completely desperate for his touch.

***

A gasp escaped your lips as you woke up, panting. Your body was burning, not in pain, but with a need. You sat up on the bed and moved your fingers and toes. A sigh of relief escaped you as you stretched your limbs. You were no longer in your dress from the ball, but in a soft cotton nightgown; it was one of your own. Looking around, you noticed you were not in the infirmary but in the backroom of the potions classroom on a single infirmary bed that had been brought in. He wanted to keep me close; you thought with a smile.

You bit your lip when the cotton of your nightgown rubbed against your erect nipples. The burning within you felt familiar to the nights where you felt the need to touch yourself, beyond all comprehension. You needed to contain the heat, and this time, you knew you could not accomplish it alone. Thoughts of Professor Laufeyson in the room of requirement and in the garden haunted your mind. You nearly moaned from thinking about it. Heat rushed between your legs and you slipped your fingers through your folds to check, and you were utterly soaked. You suppressed another moan when your fingers brushed against your swollen clit and then moved your hand away. There was nothing else on your mind but this need. You felt as if you were in a dream, but the cold metal of the bedframe and the slight echo of your feet touching the floor confirmed to you that this was all real. Even if it felt surreal, it did not matter. Your need was real, and you had to take care of it.

The pain was gone, and you could move freely, so you hopped off the bed and climbed up the stairs into Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom. The windows you passed were utterly dark, so you could not even tell what time it was. It could be the middle of the night for all you knew. You bit your lip when you felt your folds sliding together as you ascended the stairs.

You crept into his bedroom and found him asleep on his desk. He looked so much younger, like a student studying for their finals in the common room. You brushed his dark hair to the side, and he woke up with a jolt. His eyes wide and staring at you, standing above him.

“Freya!”

Perhaps it was that he said your name for the first time, or perhaps it was the look of utter surprise on his face that excited you. But regardless of the reason, you climbed atop of him and straddled him on the chair and pressed your lips against his roughly. He reflexively kissed you back and put his hands on your hips. He tried to move you away for a moment, but you were so needful; you continued to kiss him and eventually coaxed his tongue out. When it brushed your tongue, you felt heat rise in your core and then deepened the kiss.

He pulled away, and you whined. “W-what are you doing?” he said.

“I need you, please...I just - I can’t…” you said, kissing him between your words.

“How are you feeling? Are you hurt?” he said, clasping your face between his hands. His eyes looked so earnest that it sobered you for a moment.

“The pain is gone, but…” you said, licking your lips and looking at him with wide eyes. “I need...to touch you…”

His expression jolted as if you had electrocuted him. “It might be the aftereffects of the potion. You’re still weak, Freya, we really shouldn’t,” he said.

You shook your head with a “no!” Biting your lip, you rubbed your hips against him, and a hard erection rubbed on your core and both of you met forehead to forehead, panting. “You want me, I know you do,” you said with a smile. All your inhibitions were gone. It felt like you were drunk. “You’re a bad professor…wanting one of your students,” you said with a purr. You kissed him slowly, languidly. “But then,” you said with a whisper, right into his mouth, “I have touched myself thinking about you all semester.”

Professor Laufeyson sighed and lifted you up as he stood, holding you against him. He carried you over to the bed and placed you in the middle. You spread out your arms and legs, stretching out, and felt the limitations of your nightgown. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if you should strip. There was nothing underneath, so you would be utterly naked. From the medication high, your limitations were none, and you did exactly what you felt like doing. So, you lifted your nightgown above your head and tossed it to the floor, laying completely bare while Professor Laufeyson audibly hitched his breath. His gaze was lustful as he crawled towards you, fully clothed in brown pants and a grey collared shirt.

“You are not yourself, Miss Eves,” he said, returning to the formalities. Though he continued to crawl up your body and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You gripped his arms and pulled him down for a deep kiss. “I don’t care, master. Please, I need to feel you, please. It hurts,” you said. He moved away from your face so he could see your expression. His was one of complete want and agony. He wrestled with it for several seconds, to which you moved against him, trying to hurry his decision. He finally moved down to kiss you, and you met him ecstatically. You moved your fingers through his hair and tightened your legs around him as his erection rubbed against your core. A few more pumps and you thought you might orgasm right then and there. Your hand moved between your bodies and you reached the hard mass between his legs. You felt the length of him and your body perked up with excitement. He shuddered when you ran your hand along his length. He took your hand and pulled it away, pinning it above your head. You looked at him questioningly, and he shook his head.

“The rules are, if you want me to keep touching you, you have to keep your hands on the headboard,” he said, moving your other hand up above your head.

You wriggled against him, and he chuckled. He then moved his hands off of you and slowly climbed off your body. Out of your desperation, you stopped moving and gripped the headboard tightly.

“There’s a good girl,” he said. The praise sent another wave of heat through your body. “Now remember, keep your hands on the headboard or I will stop,” he reminded you. You nodded profusely, and he came down and gave you a long kiss.

His hands moved away from your face and down your body. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, since that was the only way you were allowed to hold him. With one hand, he gripped your waist while the other freely explored your body. He ran a hand gently down your side, from the swell of your breast to the soft, supple skin of your thigh. When he ran his hand back up, he stopped at your breast and cupped it. You writhed against him, your nipples rubbing against his shirt.

“How badly I have wondered what you looked like underneath that uniform,” he said, kneading your breast. His thumb flicked your nipple, and you arched your back, unable to contain the pleasure.

“You came into my class every day in that short skirt like a bloody tease,” he said. “Look at you now, completely naked on my bed, begging me to take you.”

“Yes,” you said. “Please take me.”

He kissed your neck and moved down, clamping his mouth around your nipple and palming the other breast. You gasped and gripped the headboard tightly as he flicked his tongue and sucked your nipple. It was so overwhelming you thrashed side to side and had to stop yourself from moving your hands and touching him.

“Please master, take me!”

He chuckled and popped your nipple out of his mouth with a sucking sound and provided mouth care to the other breast. While he sucked your nipple, his free hand roamed down, across your stomach, and descended to the spot that you needed.

When his fingers brushed your folds, you thought you might die. But you needed more first.

He gasped. “You’re so wet,” he said, looking down at you. A devilish smile creeped to his lips. “Were you like this in class, too? While I was lecturing, did you nearly wet yourself sitting at your desk?” He ran his fingers down your slit and held them still at your entrance.

“Yes master, yes!”

He pushed a finger in and you cried out. He pumped a finger in you as he licked your nipple. You moaned when he gently nipped it with his teeth. You grinded against his finger and he came up to kiss you. His pupils were so wide that they took up more space than the blues.

“More, please master,” you said, begging.

He took a second finger and entered you, stretching your walls and eliciting another moan from you. Arching your back, you gripped the headboard with all your might as he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet folds. You moaned with pleasure and then you whined when he left your mouth. You thought that he was going to your breasts again when he kissed each one, but he continued downwards. The butterflies in your stomach exploded when you realized where he was going. Your hand shot out and nearly touched his head when he hovered above your core. He raised his brows and paused pumping his fingers, and you stopped.

“Remember our rule, Miss Eves,” he said sternly, as if you were still in the classroom.

You shuddered in pleasure and returned your hand to the headboard. He smiled and revealed his long pink tongue. Your heart stopped when he dipped his head down and licked up your slit. You gasped at the unbelievable pleasure and wondered if the venom had actually killed you and this was heaven.

He licked up your folds and moved down close to get better access with his tongue. His fingers began moving in and out of your entrance as he licked your folds and clit. “How badly I have wanted to taste you,” he said between licks. You thought you saw stars as you threw your head back and thought you might cry.

He stayed on your clit and sucked and licked, first gently and lightly. When you begged for more, he licked harder and flicked his tongue up and down on your clit in a rhythmic pattern. You were writhing and arching your back as if you were possessed. His fingers moved in and out of you as his tongue moved in rhythm. Your pleasure came in waves and you did not even realize it. The golden edge of your orgasm came and went, and you felt the next wave, to your surprise. You screamed and moaned as you came over and over to his touch. The waves gradually receded, and he continued, taking in every wave of your pleasure. You had to shift your hips away from him once you became too sensitive, and he pulled away with a smile. His lips and mouth were glossy when he came up to you with a grin. His eyes held a wild expression as if whatever possessed you now possessed him.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kissed you deeply. You could taste some of yourself on his lips and it only aroused you more, though your body was slowly tiring out. Slowly, you reached a hand down towards his erection when he grabbed your wrist.

“No, tonight was for you, love,” he said, moving beside you. He waved his hand, and the sheets came up to cover both of you. He grabbed your waist and pulled you to him so that your back was to his chest and he held you close. “You can sleep now,” he said, kissing your hair.

You wanted to reciprocate and give him something too, but when he pulled you into his arms in such a comfortable position, you felt your body sinking into sleep again. Upon receiving such a powerful orgasm, he had knocked the energy right out of you. You moved and turned around to face him, putting a leg around him and looking up into his face. “Thank you,” you said and gave him a soft kiss. You nestled into his shoulder and closed your eyes, feeling the tug of sleep pull you deeper.

“Anything for you, my love,” he said.

[echo-of-sounds]

pet surprise

Small drabbles of you surprising Aizawa, Toshi, and Gang Orca with a new pet.

I had more Halloween stuff for today but I couldn’t stop thinking about this. I have Halloween drabbles for next week though!

Aizawa Shouta

“Hey,” you smiled as you opened the door.

Shouta grunted from the couch, focusing on the TV. You sat the carrier and bag down and went up behind him, hugging his shoulders, kissing the side of his head. He grumbled, “What do you want?”

“Don’t be mad.”

He tried to stand. You kept your arms around him, keeping him seated. He sighed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing bad… just, remember when we talked about getting a pet?”

“Yes, and we both agreed we didn’t have the extra time for one.”

“Yes… but once I saw her, I promised I’d make the time.”

“Promised whom?”

“Myself.” Through his grouching, you kissed him multiple more times. “Just stay here and don’t look. I promise you’ll love her too.”

He didn't respond, so you took that as a yes. You scurried back over to the carrier and gently picked up the already purring three-month-old kitten. She was a Siamese blue-point with only one eye. Fur covered the area where her left should be.

Grinning wide, you carried her around to Shouta. His glower immediately lifted upon seeing her. A smile could almost be seen when he quietly asked, “What’s her name?”

“Mimzy. She was in the shelter window. Once I saw her, I couldn’t leave her.” She still purred, loud and healthily, when you placed her in his outstretched hands. 

He cradled her to his chest. She stretched out her front legs, laying happily against his warm body. That brought out the smile.

Next, you brought over the bag with care products and toys. “I bought all the things we need. This especially,” you said, pulling out the simple, cute collar. It was pink with a tiny heart decoration. “You can put it on her.”

Tender fingers latched it around her neck. She yawned but didn’t fully wake, tired from playing earlier. His smile grew. His eyebrows lifted, affectionately petting her back and stroking her large ears, kissing her head.

“Are you mad?”

“Not in the least,” he muttered.

You weren’t going to say it but you hoped she’d provide some sort of comfort for him during his stressed and worry-filled days. Her soft fur, light purrs, and quiet company were definitely grounding and soothing. 

You kissed Sho’s forehead, leaning on his shoulder after, rubbing Mimzy’s cheek. She’ll undoubtedly become his new best friend soon.

Yagi Toshinori

You cautiously entered the apartment, beyond thankful Toshinori wasn’t in the living room. Though his voice greeted you from the hallway. You hid the carrier behind the table and rushed to the hall, shielding his eyes with your hands.

He grabbed your shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise.” The puppy yawned as he stirred from his nap.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Come sit.” Still covering his eyes, you led him to the couch.

“Honey, please, I don’t want any surprises.”

“Shhh.” You kissed him. At least he smiled at that. “We’ve talked about this. I’ve been looking for the perfect one and I finally found him. Trust me, you’ll love him.”

“Him?”

“Just keep your eyes closed.” You kissed him again before scampering back to the fluffy puppy. As soon as you opened the door, he excitedly scurried out of the carrier, wagging his tail so hard it wiggled his butt back and forth. He took off towards the only other person in the room.

Toshi opened his eyes and gasped at the little golden retriever. Any worries he had must have disappeared given his huge smile. It widened when he saw the All Might themed bandana. He picked up the squirming puppy and asked with a laugh, “Where did you get him?”

You sat beside him, petting the soft fur. “The family put ads online. I left work at lunch and drove an hour away to get him.”

“You found and bought him today?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want anyone else to buy him. Besides, he looks too much like you. I couldn’t pass him up.”

“What about training and food and toys? We’re not prepared for a dog.”

“We weren’t prepared,” you corrected. The puppy jumped from his hands and ran up and down the couch, stopping on his lap with a yip before running away again. “He’s already house-trained and has started learning basic commands. They gave me a few toys for him as well, and I picked up food and some other things at the pet store.”

Toshi looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was actually angry or happy or frustrated or what. The puppy licked his cheek, getting him to smile again. You took the opportunity to ask, “You’re not mad, are you?”

“I don’t think I could be if I wanted to,” he chuckled. “What’s his name?”

“Taiga. He’s a year old.” You kissed him, stroking his cheek. “I just wanted you to have a dog to help you. I know you’re not there yet, but I worry about your health and I want you to have the support of a dog.”

Lips brushed your palm, then your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. And I know I’m not there yet either but it’ll be comforting having him with me. I can already tell.” He kissed you deeply, holding your hand tightly.

Taiga bounced between you, interrupting the kiss like he wanted to be a part of it. A little drool dripped onto your leg. “I guess we should get used to that,” Toshi commented, kissing your forehead once more before picking Taiga up to cuddle and play with.

Gang Orca

The second Kugo opened the door, you blurted his name, begging him to come over quietly. He did as you asked. He questioned faintly, pointing to the white, fluffy ball in the crook of your arm, “What are you holding?”

“A gift for you,” you smiled.

He sat beside you, stirring the balance of your body, waking the baby bunny. Her head curiously peeked out. Itty-bitty ears poked up. A tiny nose twitched. 

“You bought a bunny?” He gingerly ran the back of his finger along the top of her head. When she moved, he quickly drew his hand away.

“Yeah. Do you want to hold her?”

“No, I probably shouldn’t,” he shook his head. Despite the decline, his eyes beamed at the bunny, wishing to feel the soft fur and tiny body.

Even though you wanted a pet anyway, you primarily got her to show Kugo just how gentle of a man he truly was. So often he recoiled from kids and babies and animals, not out of disgust, but out of fear of hurting or damaging them. Yet, he’s never so much as hurt the leg of a spider on the window screen, always freeing them to the outside world. He deserved cute and cuddly things as much as everyone else.

You tilted his head towards you, bringing his nose in reach to kiss it. You softly urged, “Hold her, Kugo. You won’t hurt her. I know you won’t.”

“I’ll try for a little bit.”

The worker at the shelter helped you understand how to properly handle a bunny. You explained in a low voice, “You need to gently but firmly hold her. They feel more secure when all four of their feet are against your body. And their spines are fragile, so you need to be careful.

Deflating against the cushion, he backed down, “You should just hold her for now.”

“Kugo, look at me.” You smiled at him, trying to get him to smile back. “You’ve never hurt anyone or anything. I know you won’t hurt her. But if you’re truly not ready, then it’s okay. We’ll wait until you are.”

“I…” he hesitated, looking at his hefty hands. “I’ll try.”

You carefully maneuvered her onto him. She squirmed a little but settled down once her feet found his arm. He lifted her up to meet her eyes, supporting her back with his other hand. Her nose wiggled. He tapped his nose to hers, finally smiling.

“Do you like her?”

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, cradling her to his cheek. He hummed at the fur and feeling.

“She doesn’t have a name yet. You can choose one.”

You barely got the sentence out when he answered: “Sprinkles.”

“Sprinkles?” you repeated with a laugh.

“Yes. It’s perfect for her.”

“So, you’re not mad at me for spontaneously buying a pet?”

“Not at all.” He nestled her comfortably on his chest. You leaned on his arm, watching him pet her with a big, handsome smile. 

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #17: make it hurt: Hawks

In which Hawks pays you a late visit. 

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), begging, needy sub!hawks, soft dom!reader, bondage, edging, teasing, vaginal sex, angst, a little bit of aftercare. 

Notes: Today’s prompt was ‘Begging.’ It got feelsy. I’m not even a little bit sorry. Not even a tiny bit. 

Kinktober Masterlist

There’s something different about him when he comes to you tonight.

The gentle sweep of his feathers against your bedroom window stirs you from sleep. At first, you don’t realize the culprit, and you turn blindly onto your side, searching for the soft orange display of the digital clock on your bedside.

There’s a shadow looming beyond it, though. Initially your body seizes, electric fear sparking every muscle. But the silhouette is unmistakeable, and as he moves into the light cast over your balcony, you take a deep breath and scrape a palm across your chest to cool your stalled heart.

“Kei,” you gasp, slipping out of bed. The sliding glass door that opens up to your balcony takes all your strength to open, and as you do, he practically falls into your arms.

He’s still wearing his hero clothes-dirty and damp. All of him is damp, you realize as you wrap your arms around him. You take one palm to the back of his neck- his hair’s wetted down with sweat, and he holds you, just a little too tightly.

“Kei,” you whisper one more time. “Baby, what happened?”

You realize, as your body settles into his, that he’s trembling. He doesn’t say anything to you. Instead, he grabs your chin and crushes your mouth to his. He snags you by the upper arms, shoving you hard against your closet door.

“Keigo,” you plead quietly. You brace your hands against his chest- barely awake and wholly unprepared for such an onslaught. He’s come to you in the middle of the night before, but never this desperately.

Finally, you snap.

“Keigo, stop,” you growl. You shove him hard, and he stumbles back a couple of steps. But he shakes it off like a bad punch and starts forward again.

“No.” You bark at him this time, planting your hands on his shoulders and keeping him firmly at arm’s length. He snarls at you. His eyes flash. But his cheeks are flushed, and the way his wings open up behind him suggest satisfaction- not predation.

You understand immediately.

“Back off.” Your voice stays crisp and double-edged, and this time, he listens. Though his body is pulled tight like a drawn bow, he takes a few tentative steps backward.

“On your knees for me, baby.”

Your gaze softens as he slowly listens, lowering himself to the rug at the foot of your bed. In the quiet, you can hear his breathing- laboured, shallow, uneven- so you close the distance and cup his cheek, tilting his chin to pull his gaze to yours.

His tawny eyes are fathomless. His jaw is tight. As he looks up at you, his trembling feathers droop. Something’s happened. Something big.

“Breathe with me,” you croon. Slowly but surely, he matches his breathing to yours. You breathe deep and intentional, in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. Five, six, seven, eight. His wings rise and fall with his slowing breaths.

“Better,” you praise. His eyes are shut by now. In the dim, silvery light of your bedroom, even all caught up in his own fear, he’s beautiful.

“You ready to tell me what happened?”

It’s like you touched him with a live wire. His nerves sing to life all over again- so hard you can see it happen- and his gaze snaps open.

“It’s… I… I c-c…I can’t-“ It’s the first time he’s tried to use his voice, and it comes out broken and shallow. Your heart begins to race. He’s scaring you.

“Alright.” You smooth your hand over his flaxen hair. “You with me, Kei?”

He nods. Your boundaries are always clear, and you have a complex set of symbols to help enforce them. But sometimes you can’t help checking in anyway.

“C’mere.”

You ease him over to the bed, helping him out of his clothes piece by piece. Once you’ve got him stripped down to just his trousers, you let him sit carefully on the edge of the bed. You straddle his lap, and his hands twitch by his sides, but they don’t move.

He knows the rules.

“Go ahead,” you whisper. “You can touch.”

Instantly, he slides his palms up the sides of your thighs. His fingertips toy with the hem of your t-shirt- his t-shirt- that you were sleeping in.

“Tell me what you need from me,” you murmur. He answers, but he’s mumbling, and you don’t catch it.

“Speak up, honey.”

“Make it hurt,” he whimpers. He clutches tightly at your hips and buries his face into the crook of your shoulder. You slide your hand to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his mussed hair once more. His bare skin is sticky and ripe with the scent of clean sweat, but he knows what he needs.

And he knows that you’ll give it to him.

“Okay,” you soothe, turning your head and pushing your lips against his temple. “Okay.”

You hold him there for another few moments, but you’ve got your orders. You take a deep breath and climb off the bed, settling your hands on your hips.

“Take off your pants,” you begin. “Then, lie down on your back.”

He gets right to work, scrambling to his feet and fumbling to get his work pants undone. When he does, he shucks them right to his ankles. You can see the excitement building in his body already, his cock beginning to swell in the tight confines of his black undershorts.

You resist the urge to lick your lips. He’s delectable like this.

Keigo gets flat on his back, and you get to watch the way his throat bobs as you circle the bed. You tug the top drawer of your nightstand free and fish out a pair of leather cuffs, lined in soft satin.

He swallows harder.

“You want these?” You whisper, holding them between your pointer fingers and stretching the silver chain taut.

He lets a strangled whine from his throat, nodding eagerly. He holds his hands out to you, palms facing upward. Your smile grows. You smooth a hand up the center of his chest and bend between his outstretched hands to lay a tender kiss on his forehead.

“Uh-uh,” you chide, shaking your head. “Not that way. You know better.”

You take one of his hands- his elbow bends pliantly against your hold- and kiss his palm. Then you buckle him lovingly into one side of the cuffs, running a finger under its edge to make sure it’s not too tight.

You loop the chain through the rungs of your headboard and buckle him into the other cuff.

“Comfy?” You murmur against his cheek.

“Yeah,” he croaks, and when you pull back, his gaze follows you like watched prey. He doesn’t know exactly what you’ve got planned- you’re not sure, either- but he knows it’s going to be good.

You push a knee into the mattress and swing the other over his hips. As your weight settles over his, he gives a soft little grunt, but his eyes rove over your form. You let him look, watching him watch you. Carefully, you dance your fingers across the hem of your t-shirt and lick your lips.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you? Just like this.”

You slide your hands underneath the shirt, pushing it higher as you glide them up your ribcage. He likes touching you beneath your clothes almost more than he likes taking them off of you, and his hips twitch beneath yours as he’s forced to watch you do it instead.

He’s getting harder now- you can feel the firm press of it beneath one thigh- and you give your hips a tiny rock as you pull your hands out from under your shirt and the material falls back down around your body.

“Baby,” he croons, and you give your hips a sharper jerk that makes him yelp.

“Try again.”

His lips purse together- he knows what he’s supposed to call you, but he stumbles over the word.

“M…my lady,” he gasps. Your heart swells.

You love to watch Hawks parade around the city all day long, feathers puffed, head held high. You love the confident air he oozes in interviews and PR campaigns. You adored the cocky speech he gave at the last hero ranking ceremony.

But what you love even more is that he comes home to you, gets down on his knees and calls you his lady.

There’s no other person in the world who gets to see him like this. Even you had to break him down- unpick every stitch, until he tore apart at the seams and showed you his barest, most vulnerable self.

That was when you truly fell in love with him.

Now, you’re in far deeper than you’ll ever know.

“Better,” you purr.

You climb off his lap, crawling down between his legs. He fusses and strains against the cuffs, trying to get a better look at you. His wings are spread neatly behind him, but you can feel the way they twitch and sweep across the mattress in indignation.

He’s getting impatient.

You curl your fingers in the elastic waistband of his undershorts and tug them down to his knees, loving the way he gasps and shudders, lifting his hips as you scrape the fabric out from underneath him.

He’s strong but slender, fine-boned like a raptor. His bronzed skin is dusted all over with golden hair- a dense trail of it leading you to the groomed patch above his flushed and ready cock.

“My perfect man,” you croon, tracing your lips along one thigh. “So pretty. So good for me.”

His eyes fall shut again. You watch his teeth sink into his lower lip. You give the tip of his cock a bare little lick, and he gives you a responsive huff of pleasure.

After that, you don’t waste any time.

You dive in, swallowing his shaft down eagerly. You suck and lick and bob your way along the entire length of him, wrapping a hand around his base and loving the way he keens and moans for you. All the while he calls you as he should, milady falling deftly from his lips between gasps of sensation.

You can read his body like a novel, and when his thighs start to tense and his voice pulls up into his throat, you know he’s getting ready to cum.

You give him three more good sucks. Then you stop. He’s expecting it, but that doesn’t make him ready for it, and his hips buck desperately up as he whines in indignation. His shoulders are taut and grooved as he strains against the cuffs, aching to touch you, finish himself off, anything but this torment he subjected himself to.

But this is why he comes to you.

You’re the only one who can take him to pieces like this.

You lead him to the brink twice more, sucking and licking and stroking selfishly at him, and pulling away at the last available second. It’s the third time you leave him keening and gasping for more that he lets out a little sob, and one word you’ve been waiting all night to hear.

“Please,” he whimpers, and you press your lips to the hollow of his groin. He’s so sensitive now, all drawn up for you with tears streaming down his face. But he’s far too caught up in his desire to be concerned with the things that brought him here to you.

“What was that?” You whisper, tracing your finger along the tip of his flushed cock. It’s scarlet and weeping against his belly now, the skin of his shaft still slick and shiny from your ministrations. His cock bobs with his near-constant squirming, and his shoulders tremble against the pillows as he settles himself and tries again.

“My lady,” he pleads. “Please let me cum. Please, I need it so bad. It hurts, milady, please.”

This is what you’ve both been waiting for. You sit back on your heels, but he’s still trembling and squirming, fussing fitfully with his restraints.

“P-lease,” he persists, his voice breaking in the middle. With a wave of sympathy, you slip out of your t-shirt and lay your bare skin along his, wrapping your arms around his torso. His wing curves instinctively around your body, and he tries to twist his hips to press his cock against you- any form of friction will do.

“Okay,” you whisper, pushing your lips against his jaw. “Don’t worry, baby, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. You with me, Kei?”

You stroke his scruffy chin and his eyes flicker open. They’re still filled to the brim with golden desire, but he focuses on you and gives a taut little nod.

“Good.”

With another kiss to his forehead, you straddle him again. This time, it’s with purpose, and you part your slick folds with one hand while bringing the tip of his cock to your entrance with the other. Keigo gasps and tries to thrust into you, but you back off with a stern look.

“Patient.”

He settles.

You try again, easing yourself slowly onto the length of him. He’s been through hell tonight, and he deserves this pleasure. If you had any idea why he needed it like this, you might have been better prepared.

But the blissed-out expression he wears as you bottom out proves that you’re prepared enough.

“Move with me, honey,” you breeze. You ride him slowly, letting his cock pump steadily in and out of you, and he matches your rhythm diligently. Despite the flush that’s crawled all the way down to his chest, and the tension that you can still see pulled tightly across his shoulders, he waits.

You reward him soundly.

All at once you shift your rhythm, pounding yourself up and down with the resounding slap slap slap of your thighs against his. He can’t hold it in any longer and groans, deep and long in his chest, forcing his hips up as yours push down to double the intensity of your undulating bodies.

“Milady,” he pants, and his thighs are starting to tense again.

“Don’t worry, honey,” you promise. “I’m not going to stop this time.”

You reach between your legs to find the swollen nub of your tender clit, rubbing tight circles in time with your thrusts. You’re determined to reach your peak soon after he does, if you can’t get there with him.

When he finally reaches the breaking point, you can see the worry building in his body. After a few rounds of edging he’s nervous, not trusting the sensation of his impending orgasm. But you make good on your promise, forcing him over the edge.

When he finishes, he howls. He throws his head back against the pillows, crying out and pumping his hips wildly up into you. His thrusts are spurred on by the cum that he pumps into your body, and it’s not long before you reach your own tight peak and collapse on top of him, spent.

When your senses return, you unbuckle his hands from each cuff, rubbing his wrists to soothe the memory of restraint. You curl up behind him and wrap your arms and legs around his body. His wing drapes over your shoulder, a quiet act of devotion from your healing lover.

You rub his chest and kiss his shoulder, holding him until his breathing slows and his pulse evens. He falls asleep in your arms without another word.

In the morning, you’ll get the whole story from him. Tonight, you’re just glad to see him resting.

Tonight, you’re just glad that he’s found you.

[howdoyousleep3]

Kinktober, 10/18: In the Kitchen

Hello yes hi. I wanted to bring this mf back and here he is in all his glory. Shoutout to @maddiewritesstucky​ for hyping me tf uppppppp. Hope you love. 💕

Pairing: Mr. Barber and Male Reader (This is a continuation from my last work on these two, which you can find here or here. The reader is not underage.)  Tags: Intercrural Sex (aka thigh fucking), Kitchen Sex, Secret Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/Sub Undertones, Age Difference, Grinding 

“Jacob, you alright going to the store while we finish cleaning up from dinner? You know what I like—mint chocolate chip!”

The words bounce around in his skull like a marble, rolling around aimlessly without sticking any sort of landing, lacking comprehension. His hand stalls under the running faucet, fingers weakening on his grip on a plate, all at the seemingly cheery suggestion Mr. Barber gives his son.

Jacob’s going to leave? Leave him alone with Mr. Barber? His name being spoken rips him from his few seconds of sheer panic.

“What kind of ice cream do you want?”

He doesn’t even remember what he says, doesn’t care. All he can think about is being alone with Mr. Barber for the first time in… weeks? Surely it hasn’t been that long, he thinks, but it has felt more like months, years, and he can barely stand it. He’s never experienced such desperation before, has never been at the mercy of someone else’s touch the way he is with Mr. Barber.

They have done their fair share of exchanging heated glances, of discreet flirting, of frantic handsy makeout sessions. The thought of Mr. Barber’s capable hands on his body, his demanding lips on his own, his voice in his ear; it all never leaves. He’s consumed by the thoughts, by the ghost of lingering touches on his own skin and under his fingertips.

He’s always hard. He finds himself saving his pent-up energy for when he’s jamming his fingers into his mouth in the shower when his fist flies over his dick as he thinks about Mr. Barber fucking him.

“You gonna take it? Yeah you are, gonna show me you can handle it, c’mon—be good for me.”

He feels good when Mr. Barber touches him, feels good when Mr. Barber fucks him. He tries hard not to think about all the bad that he’s doing and tries even harder to not think about how good being bad makes him feel.

His hands tremble as he places the plate he just finished rinsing into the dishwasher. He hears the rattle of keys, the door to the garage shut, feels his chest constrict. He will not, under any circumstances, be the first one to make any sort of move or implication of so. He takes a few forks, rinses them under water that is steaming but that his hands don’t recognize as being hot, places those into the dishwasher as well.

Even when he can sense Mr. Barber behind him, can hear his shaky breathing and feel the goddamn heat of his body, he does not turn around. It’s only until a hand, not his own, reaches forward and turns the faucet off. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, to lowly whimper out, “Fuck’, but he does just that as he shuffles on his feet. He feels lips on his neck first, but hands quickly follow suit, two large palms that sweep up his torso, squeeze at his pecs.

“Wish I had enough time to fuck you,” Mr. Barber rumbles, wet on his neck as an arm goes taut around his waist, the other hand coming up to cup the front of his throat. So direct, almost abrasive, but it has his sigh turning into a whine of relief. Mr. Barber’s lips are hot on the side of his neck, wet and loud, and in just ten seconds their shared energy is almost chaotic.

“Can fuck me, want it. Miss it,” he breathes as he is pulled away from the sink and he moans when the line of his back gets pulled against Mr. Barber’s front. God, the older man’s cock is already hard against the small of his back, the top of his ass, and he wants. He no longer has to wonder why Mr. Barber put on sweats for the evening; it’s much easier to tease and feel this way. He wants so much his own hand flies back to try and touch, to reach, but he ends up pawing at Mr. Barber’s hip with a wet hand instead.

“Not enough time, not with what I wanna do to you,” Mr. Barber states, teeth tugging at the shell of his ear. He retaliates, doesn’t like that, grinds back into Mr. Barber with a swirl of his hips and a huff.

“You haven’t fucked me in weeks,” he pouts, digging into Mr. Barber’s crotch so that his cock slots right between his ass cheeks, right where they both want him. There’s a low noise, the press of teeth against the hinge of his jaw, the hand around the front of his throat going momentarily and thrillingly tight. Through the sensations, his hips never stop moving. He takes the time to revel in the feeling and brief familiarity of that cock, also takes the time to whimper once more in disappointment of not having it inside of him tonight.

“Yeah? You upset about that?” Mr. Barber asks, a slight tease to his voice. Bastard. Before he can respond, Mr. Barber is pushing him chest-down into the counter, hand tight on the nape of his neck. He hates how good it feels to be in such a position, bent over with a cock heavy on his ass.

“Yes,” he bites out, hands moving to grip the edge of the countertop. He bites his lip to prevent himself from gifting Mr. Barber with any whimper when the older man rolls his hips forward more than a bit suggestively.

“Yeah, show me. Show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about.”

Mr. Barber’s voice is deliciously eager, both hands running down to squeeze at his waist, tight and yummy. He tugs on his hips, implies he moves, and with a heavy exhale, he’s grinding and rolling back into a sturdy torso, a firm cock. He lets himself get a little lost, lets himself feel. He stands up on his tippy toes to make the arch in his back count, making it easier to roll up and down. He mewls between his clenched teeth, wanting more while still trying to savor what he has in this moment.

“There you go, this what you’ve been thinkin’ about? Takin’ me like a champ?”

He is a fool for forgetting that Mr. Barber’s mouth is the filthiest fucking thing within the city limits, maybe beyond. It isn’t like anything he’s ever experienced with anyone else before and it has him agreeing and nodding his head immediately, stupidly.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, please.”

“More,” Mr. Barber demands, hands running up to his shoulders, and oh that bit of force makes his dick throb in his shorts. “Tell me more, get specific. Come on, baby.”

The demand makes his grumble, but the addition of the baby makes him turn his cheek sweetly into the countertop. A squeeze to his shoulders, a pull on them, and he’s melting underneath the hands and touch of Mr. Barber.

“God, fuck. Think about you every night, wake up hard every morning. I… I t-touch myself thinking about you.”

“That’s sweet, do ya now?”

“Mhmm, yeah think… think about you fuckin’ me,” he explains with a flush of his cheeks, and he has no control over the way his voice goes whiney, gets a bit breathless. His breathlessness continues, amplifies, when Mr. Barber’s hands run roughly up his sides to take hold of his neck. He whimpers, mewls, when Mr. Barber takes his turn to roll his hips, to grind in tight to the curve of his ass. When Mr. Barber doesn’t interject, he continues.

“Think about… about how good you felt inside’a me. How… how you felt so good you made me cry.”

The groan Mr. Barber lets out is one that has a heavy presence, is one that he swears he can feel within his own chest. It has the hands forcefully wrapped around his neck scrambling down to his shorts. When they catch the waistband, they tug, pulling his bottoms down his hips and over his ass. When the cooler air hits the heated skin of his backside, he can’t help but gasp.

His gasp turns into a purr of his own when Mr. Barber’s hands squeeze at the meat of his ass.

“Been thinkin’ about you sobbin’ around my cock for weeks,” Mr. Barber mumbles, voice like gravel against his ear, in his belly. He’d cry if Mr. Barber wanted it. He thinks he could cry without forcing it. With another whimper, he nods his head in agreement, in… something. He’s already forgotten.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ too, thinkin’ about the way that boy cunt looked all stretched around my cock, so hungry. Y’still hungry now, kid?”

With a luxurious stretch of the line of his back, a push of his ass, he’s moaning out, “Yes, sir so hungry.”

His briefs are next, a tug and an almost tear before they’re joining his shorts around his ankle. This move makes a blush rise to his cheeks, makes him whimper a bit in humiliation. His whimper appears to be pointless though, because Mr. Barber’s noise is so appreciative and gluttonous it takes the worries right out of his thoughts.

“There he is, fuck that’s sweet,” Mr. Barber purrs, not wasting precious seconds and immediately pressing his clothed erection tight against the curve of his bare ass. Oh, it feels good, feels so fucking good. The way that cock feels, all warm and solid against the middle of his ass, has him spreading his legs, pressing up onto his toes again to feel.

“Mr. Barber…wanna feel, wanna—”

A sharp hand coming down on his ass cheek has his words dying in his throat. Mr. Barber does it once, twice more, grabs at two palmfuls of his ass, and squeezes roughly.

“Wanna feel what? Wanna feel me?” the older man inquires in a gruff voice and all he can do is nod his head dumbly into the countertop with a whine. Mr. Barber doesn’t give him a chance to answer verbally though, instead exhales heavily himself before a hand leaves his ass for just a moment before—

“That what you wanted? What you fuckin’ missed?”

He thought backing himself and his ass into a cock inside of sweatpants was erotic. He hadn’t yet felt the hot skin of Mr. Barber’s cock smack down onto the top of his ass though. Nothing is better than skin on skin and it makes his own heavy dick twitch where it hangs between his spread legs. Mr. Barber keeps one hand on his waist, tight, the other he uses to slap his cock down onto his ass a few lewd times.

“This what you fuckin’ missed, boy?” Mr. Barber hisses, losing some self-control and guiding the head of his dick between his ass cheeks, pushing it right against his hole. It’s right where he wants Mr. Barber. Energy shifts, franticness takes over. There are the fingers of one hand taut in his hair then, tugging, and with a pained mewl he tips his ass up in response.

“Yes! Yes, sir yes. Fuckin’ missed that… that cock. Missed you!”

“Atta boy, there you go. Show me what we don’t have time for, come on, pretty.”

Pretty makes him shout. Pretty combined with the feeling of Mr. Barber’s fat cock resting against his circling ass makes the fire in his belly burn hotter. If he presses back just right, he can feel Mr. Barber’s balls perfectly, can feel the way they hang hot and push up against the bottom of his ass. He wants them in his mouth.

The more he moves, gyrates, grinds, the more he gets to feel Mr. Barber’s cock on his bottom, his backside. And the more he feels it, the more he grows to want it inside of him. Mr. Barber is behind him purring, making all sorts of rumbly noises in agreement and appreciation, and a moment’s realization of where he is and what he’s doing makes his dick turn achy, makes him hurt for any kind of release.

Everything mounts when Mr. Barber moves, when he leans down over his backside, hand reaching for the decorative container of olive oil in front of them. The pressure of Mr. Barber on his back, draped over his much smaller form, has him gasping. Watching Mr. Barber fumble with the bottle of oil makes his mind go fuzzy.

“Push your thighs together, come on. Tight. Tighter. There we go, that’s it.”

He feels like he’s wading through syrup, that heavy, sticky-sweet sensation he had not forgotten about filtering through his head, down his neck. He makes dull connections in his brain. Yes, olive oil is slick and messy. Yes, his thighs pressed together would make the perfect spot for Mr. Barber to fuck into. No, they still don’t have enough time to properly fuck before Jacob comes back from the store and they have to pretend that this wasn’t happening.

Teeth are the first thing to drag him out of his embarrassingly prematurely fucked-out brain. A dig of them into the nape of his neck, a hand pressing between his legs, Mr. Barber chuckling when his hand comes in contact with his sensitive dick. A burly arm wraps tightly around his waist as the other hand smears oil on the inside of his thighs, wets it up to get fucked.

He feels taken, feels overwhelmed, claimed. He gives Mr. Barber a throaty groan of confirmation as he’s slicked up and prepped to be used. He drags his arms up the counter, gives himself over to the moment entirely. When Mr. Barber presses a sloppy kiss against his cheek and makes space between their bodies to get his hand between them, he whimpers happily.

“Fuck, you must’a missed it. One time and that’s all it took to train this sweet ass, ain’t that right?”

He hadn’t realized he was presenting for Mr. Barber, even given their position.

While the space between them is for Mr. Barber to get a hand on his cock, it isn’t to slip inside of him. But while it isn’t to press inside of him, that doesn’t stop Mr. Barber from indulging himself and nudging the head of his cock against his hole. He almost thinks Mr. Barber is going to do it, is going to press into him without any prep and with this oil only. But with another sigh that turns into a groan, he presses down instead and slips his cock in the slot under his balls, between his thighs.

It’s different, something he isn’t used to, but it’s delicious nonetheless. To have Mr. Barber so close to where he desperately wants him, all pressed and snug up against his own balls, has him breathless damn near immediately. To feel him on almost every side, slick between his thighs, against the line of his own dick, has incoherent noises spilling from his mouth at the same rate.

“Fuck, that’s good, yeah. Keep yourself tight for me. God, you’re sweet.”

He feels like he’s getting fucked. It sounds like he’s getting fucked, slippery and lewd, the hot length of Mr. Barber’s cock sliding tight against his own achy dick. The most overwhelming part though, is the way Mr. Barber takes control of him, commands him and his body. There’s an arm tight around his waist, locking the two of them together, lips and a beard rubbing against his ear. When he goes to moan again, a bitty mewl, Mr. Barber is huskily shushing him.

“Shh practice, boy. Gotta be quiet. You don’t wanna get caught fuckin’ your best friend’s daddy, do you?”

He won’t last. He chokes on his noise, such a desperate one. Mr. Barber reaches forward and clamps a hand down around his mouth as he continues to messily fuck his cock between his thighs. With the hand around his mouth, his noises are muffled. He can’t stop them, doesn’t try to.

“Don’t want anyone knowin’ about how easy you are either, can’t have them knowin’ I’ve got a little slut on my hands.”

His moan is almost drowned out by the sound of Mr. Barber’s hips smacking up against his backside, by his own growl as he bends his knees and digs in tighter to his bent body. The constant stimulation of his balls and the underside of his dick is making him a bit delirious, is making his breaths hectic behind Mr. Barber’s palm. He thinks he might be able to feel his own spit on his chin.

“Shh, shh gotta practice, baby. For… fuck, for later when I crawl into your bed. Gonna fuck you later, gonna fill this fuckin’ ass up, give it what it wants.”

This time his noise is louder than anything else, a sob behind a hand, his own hands coming to grip at the edge of the counter. He moves with the momentum, finds himself fucking back into Mr. Barber’s body with a whine, wants more. It makes the older man groan, almost a growl, has him scrambling and pulling the hand away from his mouth and reaching for the bottle of oil once more.

“Please, god please, want it, want—”

A sloppy wet hand on his dick has him gasping, has him lurching in a strong grip. Mr. Barber’s grip is persistent, focused. The arm around his waist doesn’t falter, goes tighter to accommodate for his thrashing. Mr. Barber’s mouth runs as his big hand fucks itself over his dick and he’s left panting, holding back his whimpers, as he listens to Mr. Barber tell him all the things he is going to do to him later that night.

“Want your mouth on my cock, want you fuckin’ gaggin’ as I get some fingers in that boy cunt. Yeah? Y’like that? Gonna drag this one out, gonna put you face down just like this. You want me to fuck you face-down? Easier for you to stay quiet, better for me to get balls-deep. Think you can come more than once? Huh? Wanna find out?”

When he comes, he is unable to give Mr. Barber much of a warning. He’s almost certain that his noises give him away, the way his breath hitches and the way he spits out messy words. He shatters under Mr. Barber. There’s no other word to describe how he comes apart. He shakes and shatters and comes as Mr. Barber milks it out of him, tugs on his cock in long pulls.

The older man fucks himself to his own release, adding to the mess between his thighs with a series of guttural groans and a few pumps of his own hands to prolong his pleasure. It almost feels as if a few waves of fiery pleasure in his body are reserved for feeling Mr. Barber’s come land between his thighs, dirtying him up.

He’s a mess. He’s panting and his mind is foggy. Mr. Barber kisses him on the cheek, squeezes at his sides as he sighs. He wants to crumble to the floor and fall asleep there. He’s supposed to be young, spry, but Mr. Barber takes it out of him without even fucking him.

“Gotta get a move-on, kid. Go clean up,” Mr. Barber tells him with a pat on his stomach before a hot set of lips are on his ear. “I’ll dirty you up all over again tonight.”

[m0srael]

Torch Your Inhibitions

2k | E | Read on Ao3

Third installment for @magpiefngrl's 2021 Summer Writing Challenge. Prompts: Bonfire + Sex Pollen + Unreliable Narrator. I joked about making this just a whole lotta nature-based group sex and...well... Thanks @nv-md and @devilrising for making this even better!

“Malfoy, are you sure the invitation says no pants allowed?” Harry says to the mirror as he grimaces and tightens the rope holding his robe closed around his hips.

“Yes, Luna has been very clear about the order of this evening’s events, and frankly it just seems... neater to me. You disagree?”

Harry forgets to reply for a moment, distracted by the broad swath of pale chest Draco’s own robe has left exposed, one hard, pink nipple on full display. Draco doesn’t notice that Harry’s jaw has gone slack as he’s too busy readjusting himself under the thick, burgundy fabric that makes his hair seem more golden than usual.

“Well, I mean, she’s not going to check, is she?” Harry manages to say, despite the marked blood deficit in his brain. “Bloody hell, what am I saying, it’s Luna of course she’d check.”

“Right. So…” Draco murmurs , matter-of-factly, as he moves to stand close behind Harry, making eye contact in the mirror, “knickers off, Potter.”

Harry tells himself he doesn’t know what Draco is about to do, but the moment he feels the fabric shift against his arse he freezes, hoping beyond hope that he has guessed correctly.

“Alright?” Draco whispers on a smirk into his bare shoulder as an unsupressable shudder shakes through Harry.

Harry can’t speak, so he just nods.

Draco slowly gathers up the bottom of Harry’s robe in his fingers until he can slip his hands underneath it, letting it cascade down his wrists. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic band where it wraps around Harry’s hips.

Harry’s eyes fall closed as Draco’s fingers drag against his skin, down and down Harry’s thighs, until his pants fall to the ground.

Draco makes a soft sound. When Harry’s eyes fly open he realizes that Draco’s gaze is fixed to the tent in his loose robe, all the more obvious now that his cock is free.

“Steady, Potter. We haven’t even made it to the party yet,” Draco growls, before turning quickly and stalking out of the bedroom.

Harry groans and covers his flaming face, letting his head thunk against the wardrobe door. He doesn’t understand what it all means.

He and Draco have been living together for a year and a half. For the first six months they avoided one another almost entirely. The eight or so months after that had been punctuated by short, fiery conversations as they felt each other out, slowly arriving at some mutual understanding and even cautious friendship.

The last few months, including the very moment Harry finds himself in presently, have been an unending nightmare. He never realized how tactile Draco is with friends, but he touches Harry all the time.

When Draco needs a glass from the cupboard over Harry’s head, he plants one hot palm firmly on Harry’s lower back to steady himself. When they sit on the couch watching films, Draco always slides his cold feet under Harry’s thigh for warmth. It only takes half a pint at the pub before Draco’s leaning into Harry’s side, and another half before Draco drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder and presses his nose into Harry’s throat.

Draco also apparently has some aversion to closed doors. Harry is sure it has something to do with growing up in the Manor, being shut in for so long with such terrible people. It doesn’t really bother Harry, who also hates feeling trapped.

Though...he did accidentally walk in on Draco in the shower, mid-wank, last week.

Harry had stood, mesmerized in the doorway, watching for longer than he would ever admit (even to himself). He only averted his eyes when Draco noticed him, and said, “Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you going to help, Potter?” He laughed mockingly as Harry hurried down the hallway shouting apologies.

A tiny part of Harry’s brain recognizes Draco’s behavior as flirtatious. The other part--the louder part--knows that never in a million years would Draco Malfoy share Harry’s secret desires. This is just how Draco is with everyone. Harry only started to notice it once they lived in the same house.

“Harry...I know you told me to stop asking, but...you’re sure you’re okay with this? You want to go? The details of the ritual were pretty clear, and Luna did say that no one was obligated to--”

Gods, did Draco think he was that naive and squeamish? No, he would see this through, if only to prove a point.

“Yeah, yep...yes. I’m okay. I mean, I want to go. I’m...curious. NO! I mean, well...I want to...support Luna, so…” Harry trails off as he joins Draco on the front steps.

“Uh huh. Convincing,” Draco smirks, “if you want to leave, you can. Okay?” he finishes in that soft, pedantic way of his before taking Harry’s hand and apparating them to the coordinates from Luna’s invitation.

*

Luna had insisted everyone arrive rested and well-hydrated, and Harry was glad he’d taken her advice.

Before the sunlight faded completely, they set up the May Day altar together, followed Luna in a series of prayers for fertility and abundance, and danced around the maypole. Neville had even brought everyone a seedling to plant somewhere in the forest or take home to plant in their garden.

Harry would be feeling a little silly about all the neo-pagan pageantry, if his stomach weren’t tying itself into knots the further the sun falls below the horizon.

Before he knows it, Seamus is tossing a lit torch onto a giant pile of logs in the center of the forest clearing.

“Happy May Day, everyone!” Luna sing-songs as they all assemble around the bonfire.

She reaches into a fold in her robe and pulls out a small pouch.

“It’s time for the most important rite of the evening. I hope you all took the time to read the pamphlet I included with your invitation. If you’d like to forgo participation, I suggest you step away from the fire before we begin. If anyone is still unsure about what this part of the evening entails, please let me know now! There are no silly questions!”

Harry watches as a few people say their goodbyes and apparate away. He lifts one foot slightly as if to move away from the fire before catching Draco’s eyes across the circle. His brow is furrowed—he looks upset. His eyes are glowing in the firelight and he flicks his tongue out along his bottom lip. Harry plants his feet, nodding slightly as if to say yeah, I’m okay, I’m staying.

“Alright, everyone! Take the hands of the people beside you!”

Harry’s hand closes around Neville’s on one side and Pansy’s on the other. He makes eye contact with Neville and can’t stop the manic, high-pitched laugh that ekes its way out of his throat. Neville just smiles warmly and squeezes his hand. Harry’s stomach flutters.

“Have you all got the kits we sent with your invitations?” The group murmurs affirmatively. “Good! Just in case, there are extras in the basket over there! Can’t be too careful!” says Luna as she opens the pouch and dumps sparkling powder onto the fire.

The flames turn a brilliant deep purple color and leap up six or seven feet, giving off thick plumes of lavender smoke. Neville inhales and sighs deeply.

Harry closes his eyes and lets the fragrant smoke overwhelm his senses. He feels a soft breeze caress his hot skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He gasps as his robe rustles around his thighs.

Every ounce of nervousness melts out of him and into the earth. He’s distantly aware that there are people moving around him but he can’t be bothered to open his eyes and look at them; he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life.

Gentle fingers slide into his hair, making his mouth fall open to receive an eager tongue.

“Harry…” Neville whispers into his mouth before kissing him soundly. They stand for a while, lips sliding over each other’s mouths and palms moving over each other’s bodies.

“Mm, s’good…” Harry slurs as someone unties the rope around his hips and slides his robe off. He shivers at the sudden kiss of cool air and curling smoke.

When he finally pries his eyes open his view is full of the top of Neville’s head, now on his knees in front of Harry. Harry rolls Neville's head in his palms until their glassy eyes meet. Harry hadn’t realized he was so hard--he groans as Neville takes him in hand and begins to stroke him lazily.

A hand slides around his chest from behind and a soft, warm body presses flush against his back.

“I always thought you were fit...” Pansy mouths against the back of his neck. Her small fingers tease his nipples as she rolls her naked body against his.

Harry shivers again when the thick smoke parts and his eyes land on Draco across the fire. He’s kissing Seamus deeply, one hand wrapped around the back of his head, as he strokes them both with one hand. He gasps when Draco opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to look right at him.

Making sure he didn’t chicken out, probably.

Harry’s head falls back onto the top of Pansy’s as Neville takes him into his mouth, inch by inch, humming around him. Harry’s first orgasm rolls through him almost without his knowledge, every cell in his body pulsing as Neville moans and licks him through it. He watches as Neville pulls off and strokes himself to completion, one hand gripping Harry’s thigh tightly.

*

He’s on his knees in front of Pansy, who he’s backed into a tree at the edge of the clearing, his face wet and hot, when he hears that voice.

“My loves,” Draco purrs. The clearing is filled with the sounds of heavy panting and urgent moans.

As Draco leans over Harry’s shoulder to kiss Pansy, his cock rests hot and heavy on Harry’s shoulder. Harry slides his tongue out of Pansy, replacing it with two fingers, to press his mouth to Draco’s throbbing flesh. Draco curls his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling hard.

“Harry...need you…now...” Draco pants, pulling his head further back so they can make eye contact. Pansy moans loudly and Harry can feel her tighten around him, hips rocking forward onto his fingers.

Draco pulls Harry away from the clearing, the light and sounds from the bonfire growing distant and muffled. He urges Harry onto his back on the forest floor before straddling his hips.

“So...beautiful,” breathes Harry as he runs appreciative hands over Draco’s scarred chest, “want you so much…”

“Want you too, for so long, Harry,” Draco replies as he pops open the cap of the little bottle of lube Luna had sent them. The handmade label reads ‘A Happy May Day is a Lubricated One!’ complete with little drawings of butterflies.

“What?” replies Harry, hands stilling in confusion.

Harry can’t temper the sound that tears out of him as Draco wraps his wet hand around them both and begins to roll his hips. Harry thinks he’ll come again from that alone, but before he can Draco’s hand is gone.

“Aren’t you glad, now, that you listened to the no-pants rule--ah--Potter?” Draco quips as he lowers himself slowly onto Harry.

“Mmmm, yes, yes you were right,” hisses Harry as waves of heat and sensation roll up his spine.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Draco teases on a breathy laugh that quickly becomes a low moan.

Harry’s hips press up to meet Draco’s every slow, languorous thrust. Harry drifts, pulled under by Draco’s fingers and his lips at Harry’s ear whispering all kinds of incredible things.

You’re all I want, Harry. Need you, all the time, not just tonight. Please, I’m yours, I’m yours, Harry.

When Harry comes, he cradles Draco’s face in his hands, open mouth pressed against the corner of Draco’s mouth. Draco immediately follows, breathing out Harry’s name again, and again.

Harry can’t stop the laugh that forces its way out of his chest, and he’s delighted when Draco laughs along with him, folding forward to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

*

When Harry wakes up the next morning his memory of the night before is complete in his mind, but it feels wrapped in a purple-tinted haze. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not alone in his bed--Draco is tucked up against his side, breathing gently.

Harry turns to watch him sleep in silence for a moment, finally admitting to himself that Draco really had been flirting with him the whole time. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t want to wake Draco.

It takes him a moment to notice that Draco’s eyes have blinked open sleepily.

“Mine?” whispers Harry.

“Yours, Harry.”

[tothemeadow]

kinktober: Obanai deserves all the praise he can get

Day 3: Daddy/Mommy Kink / Praise / Cream Pie

warnings: NSFW, handjobs, cum play(?)

words: 1,356

(a/n): art is not mine

“Such a pretty boy.”

You don’t miss the slight trembling of Obanai’s bottom lip. You trace your thumb over the plump flesh, taking delight in how his mouth falls open with a gasp. Usually, Obanai is such a harsh, brutal man. He sticks to his icy façade, always choosing to remain stoic and unbothered by pretty much everything.

Oh, but only if he could see himself now.

He looks so wonderfully flushed, his inky hair a mess, his heterochromatic eyes wide. Under the lantern’s soft light, his skin takes on a lovely, warm hue. It’s truly a sight to behold; you can’t help but smile at him and run a hand over his cheek. His breath hitches as you drag your knuckles over the ragged scar running from the corners of his mouth.

“Obanai, don’t you know how lovely you are? I could stare at your face all day.”

He chokes on a breath.

“Pretty Daddy. Can I?” you ask, your hands trailing down his chest. His heartbeat thunders under your palm when you press it to his pectoral. “Will you let me make you feel good?”

You’re almost salivating at the opportunity at being filled. His cock is too pretty, standing straight against his stomach, the tip weeping precum. The red tinge is only slightly darker than his face. Obanai’s stomach jumps as you trail your hands even lower, settling them right above his crotch.

“Touch me, (y/n),” Obanai rasps. His voice is beyond wrecked, beautifully hoarse and rough even though you haven’t touched him yet.

Nudging him onto his back, you lean over his torso, your hot breath fanning across his skin. “I want to make you feel good all over, Daddy,” you purr. “It’s only what you deserve.”

A soft sigh passes through his mouth once you start to leave fluttering kisses on his chest. Across the collarbones, down the sternum, over the slight swell of muscle. You hear him audibly swallow as you kiss his nipple; sucking it into your mouth, you lightly roll it with your tongue, your teeth barely scraping the hardened bud.

A throaty groan graces your ears. Obanai knocks his head back, his hair billowing around his head like a halo. He’s just so pretty.

Gradually, you make your way down, lips skimming over the scarred flesh. He’s shaking now, and rightfully so. Your hand wraps around his swollen cock, fingers dancing up and down the shaft. Obanai bites out a curse as you thumb the head of his cock, digging into the slit and scooping up a heavy drop of precum.

“Watch me,” you tell him.

Obanai is too quick to comply, his eyes stretching in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times. It would have been comical under different circumstances. His eyes latch onto your thumb as you lift it to your mouth, tongue poking out and lapping at the sticky substance.

“So good,” you murmur. “Everything about Daddy is perfect.��

“Oh, gods,” Obanai groans. His hand clamps down on the back of your neck and he pulls you forward. Your lips land on his without further guidance. The slide is so easy, his taste so sweet, and you’re finding your way to cloud nine. You play with his tongue, coax him into your own mouth. His hands drop down to your ass, fingers digging into the flesh through the silky material of your yukata.

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy,” you murmur against his lips, pressing your hips back into his hands. “I want you to stuff me with your cock and make me feel good. I wanna make you cum, Daddy. Will you let me make you cum?”

Shifting in his hold, you grind your hips down against his aching cock. Obanai bites his lip, the scars on his face pulling tight. He nods his head frantically. It’s cute to witness him like this, so eager and desperate to make you feel as good as you’re making him feel. Gone is that icy exterior; here is his inner self, so soft and pliant and wonderful.

In little time, your yukata is barely hanging onto your shoulders, sandwiched between you and the futon. Obanai’s knelt between your legs, his cock buried deep inside you. A veiny hand hitches your thigh further up his waist, long fingers digging in a way that’s bound to leave bruises. His hips move at a relentless pace, the head of cock chasing after your most sensitive areas and fucking them senseless.

“So good, Daddy,” you moan.

Your own fingers are entangled with the strands of his hair, keeping his head steady as you gaze into each other’s eyes. It’s wildly intimate – embarrassing, even – but you know Obanai needs this. He needs every single ounce of affection and encouragement you can give. Your eyes flutter with every hard stroke of his cock, your velvety walls eagerly trying to suck him back him whenever he pulls back.

“Your cock is so good, pretty boy,” you murmur. “My Daddy is the best, fucking me open like this.”

He trembles beneath your touch, his own moans bursting through his lips. Your words only cause him to push harder, faster, deeper. He’s not going to stop until your clenching around his cock and seeing stars.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Obanai growls.

Along with the sounds of your heavy breaths, the wet sound of skin smacking skin is enough to make you feel dizzy. Obanai’s everywhere, constantly giving and giving and be so fucking great-

You keen when he finds your most sensitive spot, your back arching up into him. Your entire body burns with the stretch as Obanai slings your leg over his shoulder, but you don’t care. He’s fucking you so well and his cock is so thick and hot and fuck-

“Cum in me,” you plead. “Cum in me, Obanai! You’re so good to me, you know that?” you pant, your fingers pushing the hair out of his eyes and behind his ears.

A weak groan bubbles from the depths of his chest. He finally breaks the prolonged eye contact as he swoops down, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His thrusts grow more frantic, sloppier. You squeeze around his cock, encouraging him to come to an orgasm.

“You first,” Obanai grunts into your neck. “You gotta cum first.” Every word punches itself out of his chest, accompanied by ragged gasps. His free hand reaches down in between you two, fingers seeking out your sex and rubbing you along with his erratic thrusts. “Fucking cum already, love,” he grits out.

At his very command, you clench down harder than before as you throw your head back. You call out Obanai’s name, yelling about how good it feels and how good he is. You keen as he bites into your neck, a final harsh thrust burying him to the hilt and he finally cums. There’s almost too much of it; he rides out his orgasm, pumping more and more cum into you in thick, heavy ropes. Cum gushes out of your hole the more he thrusts, leaking down your body and seeping into the futon below.

“So fucking good, love, fuck,” Obanai mutters into your ear as he finishes.

You clench down around nothing as he pulls out, leaving you whimpering. He glances down at your sopping hole, at his cum streaming down your skin. He shudders at the mere sight and bites his bottom lip.

“Good Daddy,” you purr, a hand dropping onto your stomach. “Thank you for filling me up.” Again, Obanai nearly chokes as you reach down in between your legs, scooping up some of his cum and pressing it back inside.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Quickly, he leans back down over you, his hand joining yours and pushing his leaking cum into your sodden hole.

You bring him into another kiss, your tongue snaking its way into his mouth. You’re willing to go as many times as he wants, as he needs. Obanai is a perfect boy, deserving of everything you have to offer.

“Daddy,” you murmur, fingers carding through his hair. “Fuck me again, please.”

[xiaomomowrites]

home

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary:  “Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Or; Zhongli struggles to define what exactly “home” means to him.

Find it on Ao3!

This part takes place between act V and Zhongli, Come Down. I know I posted this series totally out of order, please forgive me for my lack of organization :,D

A/N: First of all, I finally have a beta reader!! She’s helped me through the process of writing this and I’m incredibly thankful for her support. I accidentally made her cry with this fic though, even if it wasn’t necessarily sad?? Regardless I appreciate her feedback haha. 

Oh my, I feel like I’ve been writing these two being really soft for too long. After this, I really need to face the music and write these two fighting. The time has come. They won’t be in the honeymoon phase forever!! I’m gonna vibe check all of you. 

Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the songs Home by Michael Buble and Sparks by Coldplay after or during you read this. You’re welcome.

Lastly, you can find me on Twitter @/xiaoscribbles where I’m extremely active and talk too much about Genshin. I love making friends there!

Enjoy <3 -u.n.

--

Zhongli never had a place to call home. 

Or rather, he never bothered to find one of his own and commit to it.

He was always too mobile, too nomadic. He had places to be, people and adepti to see, contracts to see through. Zhongli never found himself settling into one place for too long. Sure, when he was Rex Lapis, he had nested many times. He was a beast whose presence was too large to be confined into one space, so he would glide to the highest mountain in Liyue with ample space for a dragon like him, and settle. Zhongli remembered how he would make it as comfortable as possible for himself using all kinds of things he would pick up on his travels. A deep purr of satisfaction would rumble through him as his scaled belly would make contact with the coolness of the earth, and Rex Lapis would allow himself to relax against the stone, body sinking as if he were weightless. Although, no matter how he shifted, tossed and turned when he tried to rest, something was always missing. 

Even the familiar feeling of the Liyuan ground was not enough to fill the void in his chest.

It was satisfying, sure, but never completing. 

Hence, his lack of understanding of the human desire to settle down in one home for the rest of their short, yet meaningful lives. 

Were they not itching to get up and go somewhere else? See the world? Appreciate the land beneath their feet in all its entirety? Zhongli failed to comprehend. Even an ancient being like him fell short in understanding the idea of a “home”. 

Well, what consisted of a home, anyway? Four walls and a roof over their heads? A kitchen filled with food? A soft bed with layers and layers of sheets? What was the meaning of all that, when the true beauty of the world was beyond those four walls, high into the sky, and deep beneath the sea? What kind of pleasure could possibly come out of being domesticated? 

Nevertheless, Zhongli did make an old promise to try to understand humans as they were. So sure, Zhongli supposed he could appreciate the art of architecture. He saw how hard people worked to build these beautiful houses with intricate designs to maximize safety for the residents excited to inhabit them. It was endearing, Zhongli thought, how enthusiastic humans got about a house. The idea of settling down with their loved ones would give them so much serotonin, so much drive. It was inspiring to him. Zhongli had always hoped that one day, he could feel the same way about someone.

So why couldn’t bring himself to understand the joy in this “home” everyone spoke of? What was he missing? Was he missing the duvet? The one thousand thread count sheets? Was he missing the fine China he saw peddlers selling on roads far from town? Because he had tried his best, living in his mortal form, to find the simple pleasure in decorating his home. 

But no matter what he did, no matter how many throw pillows he placed on the couch, he simply could not deny the gaping hole in his chest when he went to bed at night. He had reached a point where even cooking for one every night upset him so, and he would go to bed disgruntled and hollow. The vast margins left on the king sized bed in the middle of the night kept Zhongli awake.  Though he did not even need sleep, he had tried his best to form what the humans called a “proper sleeping schedule”. Apparently, according to Hu Tao, sleeping at four in the morning and waking at seven for work was “not suitable”.

But in truth, what was he supposed to do? Pray tell, what could he possibly do to absolve the issue of the chasm growing in his chest with each passing night? 

“Xiansheng!” A jovial voice snaps him out of his reverie. 

Zhongli looks up from his mundane paperwork to see a familiar head of red hair bounding toward him languidly. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Childe,” he greets, “did you pester Miss Hu Tao into letting you back here again?”

“Pester?” Childe brings a hand to his chest to mock his hurt, “I hardly have to bother her to come back here. A simple ‘you look fantastic today’ is always my ticket in.”

Zhongli scoffs fondly. “How can I help you, Childe?” He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, amber eyes following the Harbinger curiously.

“Well your break is in ten minutes, so I figured I’d come grab you for lunch at Wanmin?” Childe plants two hands flat on the cherry red oak desk and leans forward into Zhongli’s space. There’s his signature teasing smile spreading slyly across his face, the one he knows Zhongli won’t be able to resist.

Zhongli hums in approval. “Sure, let me just wrap up this last form and I should be ready to go shortly.”

Childe drops down to his elbows in response and rests his face between his palms. “You sure? We could just go now, you know. I got Hu Tao consulting Ying’er about the new fragrance for the next hour or so.”

Zhongli leans forward and meets him in the middle. “I must be responsible, Childe. If my lunch break is at noon, then I will not leave my post until then.”

Childe pouts, jutting his bottom lip out cutely in an attempt to convince him otherwise. Zhongli, immovable as ever, simply leans forward and captures his lips between his own. The Harbinger makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, positively humming when the ex-Archon reciprocates. But the older man is quick to get back to work, pulling away as quick as he came, but not before he nips at Childe’s bottom lip. The ginger whines petulantly at the loss of contact. 

“Have a seat, Ajax.” Zhongli speaks, a hair’s width away from kissing him again. Childe grumbles, but agrees regardless. He seats himself in one of the plush armchairs located in the corner of the office and makes himself comfortable for the next ten minutes. 

Zhongli readjusts himself in his seat and picks his pen back up, glancing back down at the form he had already completed. He blinked owlishly at it. He must have finished signing it while Childe was talking without realizing what he had done. Regardless, he moves onto the next document to peruse silently. Mid sentence, he scoffs playfully, shaking his head at the thought of the ginger distracting him so. Is he even surprised at this point? Not even a little bit. The ginger has an incomprehensible hold on his heart, one that he doesn’t really want to shake off.

“Something funny, Xiansheng?” Childe teases from his seat. He’s reclined in his chair, relaxed, head lolling against the cushioned headrest. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are drooping into the leather. He’s relaxed, for once, and the thought of Ajax allowing himself to let his guard down in his presence makes Zhongli’s heart thump happily in his chest.

“Not particularly,” Zhongli pushes himself up with a groan. Goodness, his joints are getting tired. He pads over to where Childe is seated and forcefully makes room for himself on a chair that is clearly made for one person. Childe lets out a surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion but scoots over to make room, anyway. Zhongli makes himself comfortable by angling his body to where it’s being cradled by the junction between the armrest and the back, and opens his arms as a silent invitation.

Childe takes it happily and launches forward to burrow into Zhongli’s chest. He rests a gloved hand over his heart and snuggles closer, inhaling the deep scent of silk flowers and leather. Zhongli’s arms come around to strap him against his chest, gloved hands petting his sides as he presses a kiss to red hair. The contact immediately vanquishes the discourse in his mind. He squeezes him tight for good measure, forcing a grunt out of his Tartaglia. 

“Xiansheng,” he calls. 

“Hm?”

“You’re working too hard again.”

“Am I?” He questions absentmindedly. “And here I thought I was pulling my weight just fine.”

Childe snorts. “Pulling your weight? You know I make enough for the both of us. You could retire and stay at home, relaxing and reading books, or whatever it is you do at home.”

Ah, there it is again.

Home.

For the second time that day, Zhongli is struck with confusion.

“What is home to you, Childe?” He asks, voice soft and far away. Childe frowns against his chest in confusion.

“Home?” He parrots.

“Yes, home. What is ‘home’ to you, Tartaglia?” 

“Hmm,” the Harbinger hums, tapping a gloved finger against the ex-Archon’s chest idly as he speaks. “I suppose home is Snezhnaya. Home is what I grew up in. The unbearable cold and the old cottage house. Ice fishing with my siblings, massaging my mother’s back. Those things are all home to me.”

Zhongli ponders. Of course that is what home means. Familiarity, yes? So, technically, his home was Liyue. The hustle and bustle of trade by the harbor, the loud sizzling woks at the food stands, the loud marketers on the street that work hard day and night, the enthusiastic story tellers spewing exaggerated lies— that was all home to him. 

So why, then, was Zhongli still dissatisfied with this conclusion? Home should obviously be Liyue. He created this land with his own two hands. Gave people the very drive that keeps them alive today; he gave the idea of mora and fair trade and economic prosperity. He’s watched countless faces pass him every day, every year, every century. He’s seen new faces, young faces, old faces, familiar faces, too, the ones he had seen on older souls. Reincarnated souls. Zhongli knew those souls. He’s had dinner with many of them on multiple occasions. 

And it was no secret that Zhongli was well known in his hometown. Every business owner was familiar with his eloquent way of speaking and ambitious ways of buying. With the arrival of Childe, every business owner all but doubled their enthusiasm now that Mister Zhongli finally had a means to pay. People knew Zhongli, they adored him. They admired his amber eyes and long, beautiful hair, the ends of it looking like it had been dipped in melted mora. When he walked, people’s eyes followed. They would stare longingly at his beautifully crafted coat, his single earring, the fine leather gloves that cover his deft hands, and they would admire the way he walked with purpose, and with fire. A confidence so set in stone, it was almost difficult for one to even approach Mister Zhongli. For so long, he was considered Liyue’s most handsome bachelor, until of course Tartaglia came along and swept him off of his feet, capturing his attention in a way no one else could ever imagine imitating.

Yet, despite all the attention his people lavished upon him, there was always a nagging feeling of isolation nipping at him in the back of his mind. Despite creating the very ground beneath their feet, he simply felt like he did not fit in. Only when he was with Tartaglia did he truly feel like he belonged anywhere. It was rather inexplicable. There was something about the way Tartagali’s presence wrapped around him with a level of tenderness he had never experienced. It covered him like a gentle embrace, welcomed him without judgement, and loved him without expecting anything in return. The thought of Ajax himself made Zhongli’s heart swell

Speaking of which, the said man was now pressed tightly against his chest tracing lazy patterns into the fabric of his coat. Their long legs were tangled where they were dangling off the seat, with Tartaglia’s foot rubbing affectionately against the older man’s ankle. 

Oh, how far they have come. 

“But,” Tartaglia suddenly interjects, jolting Zhongli out of his thoughts. “If my family were to come here to Liyue to stay, then I suppose Liyue would be home, too.”

Zhongli hums. “Naturally. I’m sure they would find the variety of houses here in Liyue nice and peaceful, perfect for a new home.”

At that, Childe lets out a light laugh. “Honestly? They could live in a cardboard box in Inazuma, and I would still call that home.”

Zhongli frowns. Well now he’s even more confused than when he started. Since when was a cardboard box a suitable home for a human? It completely lacked all the appliances the houses here in Liyue had. Why would Childe settle for that? He of all people was aware of the love he holds for his family, there simply was no way he would call that a suitable home for his family. 

“I don’t understand,” he says instead, “a cardboard box, Tartaglia? You do not strike me as the type to settle for such an...unbecoming home. Especially for your family.”

“No, no, Xiansheng,” the Harbinger chuckles, sitting up slightly so he can look Zhongli in the eye. “I was just exaggerating. And, home isn’t always supposed to be a house, you know. Those two things can be mutually exclusive. Maybe not all the time, but, definitely most of the time.”

Well this was certainly new. Now he truly did not understand what it meant to have a home.

“Apparently I do not know.”

Childe sits upright to look down at the ex-Archon.

“Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

Childe is aware he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Once he starts talking about his siblings, he simply cannot stop. “It wouldn’t matter where I was if I couldn’t hear my siblings from the other room. If I didn’t wake up to Tonia’s loud blow dryer every morning, or if I didn’t hear Anthon trying to talk to her over the blowing, then it isn’t home. If I can’t hear Teucer’s footsteps coming toward me asking about a new Mr. Cyclops toy, it isn’t home. Not to me. But like I said, it’s different for everyone.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Childe pushes himself up and off the chair, stretching and yawning obnoxiously. “Great,” he replies once his jaw finishes unhinging itself from that yawn, “let’s eat, I’m starving.”

—

To put it simply, Zhongli rethinks his definition of home all night. After he gets home from his dinner date (Tartaglia tugged on his sleeves until he agreed to leave his shift early in favor of a new restaurant that had popped up recently), he closes the door behind him to take in the composition of his home. Tartaglia had been the one to pick out most of the furniture, so although it lacked many of the traditional Liyuan decor Zhongli would have furnished the place with himself, it had a nice touch of Tartaglia everywhere he went. 

His couch, for example, was a deep mahogany leather that stayed cool to the touch despite the hottest of summers. Zhongli’s dresser was nice and tall, a deep chestnut brown cut from the forests of Snezhnaya to match his bed frame. His bed was elevated by an incredibly grandiose four post frame that hung a beautiful golden translucent curtain all around the bed, draping the perimeter and creating an ethereal atmosphere for when he sleeps at night. 

(“It’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?” Childe had asked one day, while he was pondering which bed frame to buy for his boyfriend. Not that he needed to, considering Zhongli finally has a stable salary, he just wanted to.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had said disapprovingly, “what about it is sexy to you? 

“I don’t knowww,” the Harbinger hums, “maybe it looks like I would feel like I’m on cloud nine when we’re, you know…”

“You can say sex, Ajax, I believe in you.”

“Oh stop that!” Childe whacks him playfully with the catalogue, “I’m being a good boyfriend and getting you a beautiful bed frame cut from the finest oak tree and sheets woven with high quality silk! You could be nicer to me, you know.” He’s pouting, and he knows it. Zhongli’s eyes soften.

Zhongli shakes his head, laughing. “You know you don’t need to do that, you know.”

“I want to,” Ajax persists, “this is your first actual living space as a mortal! I want it to be perfect. I refuse to have my boyfriend, who is a literal god, sleeping on a bed with no bed frame. Unacceptable.”

Zhongli smiles and watches him as he continues to ramble about all the different bed frames he could buy. Oh, his love for this boy knows no end.)

The hints of Ajax everywhere he goes is how he keeps himself sane each night. His possessive urge to be around him every second of every day (courtesy of being a dragon deity his entire six thousand year life span) is soothed with the smell of him on his sheets and the extra toothbrush by the sink. One of Tartaglia’s scarves is folded neatly on the arm of his couch, and during those nights where he truly feels Ajax’s absence, he’ll hold the red fabric close and breathe the scent in deeply. The smell alone is enough to rock him to sleep on some nights, but on others, it simply is not enough. On those nights, he finds himself reading book after book about Snezhnaya culture until he passes out from exhaustion. 

One would think that it would be better for them to just live together. Given that they spent every second outside of work with each other, even going so far as walking the long route home just to avoid saying goodbye, a person would look at the way they held each other close in public and think that they’ve been married for quite some time already. 

But alas, they had agreed to take their relationship slow in the beginning. The both of them had much to adjust to, given that one of them was a notoriously fierce Harbinger, and the other was an ex-Archon adjusting to the world without his gnosis. They both had complex schedules that they were much too familiar and comfortable with to just up and leave for another person. There was a certain period of time that they had agreed to spend apart, well, as “apart” as they could be, before they decided to do anything drastic, like move in together. 

There was too much to consider, anyway, Zhongli reflects as he gets ready for bed. Would their living habits even align? Would Tartaglia even be a good roommate? Would he take out the trash responsibly? As much as he loves the ginger with his entire heart, he doesn’t think he could do it for long if Tartaglia was the type to walk around with shoes on. Such an act should be considered illegal, anyway.

Waiting was the right thing to do. 

Right? 

The nights Tartaglia spent with him were the nights he could sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours. They were the nights that Zhongli felt himself truly relax into the sheets and sink into a blissful sleep, knowing his beloved was being held impossibly close. And if nighttime was therapeutic for him, mornings felt ethereal. The mornings where he rose with the sun to be met with the sight of Tartaglia next to him were the mornings he felt like he could fly again, and soar through the open Liyue skies in his rawest form forever, so long as Tartaglia was with him. 

In fact, more often than not, Zhongli thought about the way it would feel to have Childe by his side as he explored the skies again. He would think about the way he would have to strap him down, nice and close so he doesn’t fall off his back, and then take off high into the sky. Not too high, lest he accidentally give his boyfriend a heart attack, but high enough to hear those delightful shrieks Childe will let out when he’s excited. He thinks about the way Childe could grasp onto his mane for security, hands threading through golden locks, legs tightening around his torso to avoid falling. Oh, he thinks about this a lot. 

But, waiting was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was for Childe to feel uncomfortable with the pace that their relationship was going and make him uneasy. Besides, just because he was a possessive dragon at heart, it didn’t mean Ajax was willing to cater to his needy tendencies. So, he promised himself that he would create a reasonable distance between them for the time being.

Why then, did he hate this distance with every fiber of his being? 

Why is the distance so unbearable, especially at night? 

Why is he so unsettled with the very few miles between them? It’s not like Zhongli is in Liyue and Childe is in Snezhnaya. Tartaglia is literally only at the inn. 

Yet he craves nothing more but to be close to him at all times. Zhongli’s skin itches with the desperate desire to feel him by his side when he goes to bed, when he wakes up, and all the moments in between. Does that make him clingy? Maybe. But old habits die hard. 

Zhongli huffs and looks down at his flattened pillow with disdain. No amount of fluffing will restore it to a state that is suitable for his likes. Even the elegantly woven silk night robe wrapped around his body offers little to no comfort. 

He glances at the clock. 

It’s only half past midnight. If all went well with Tartaglia’s shift, he should be home now, fresh out of the shower. 

Without thinking twice, Zhongli throws together an overnight bag and rushes out the door. 

—

“Coming, I’m coming,” Childe calls to the incessant knocks at his door. The knuckles continue to rap against the barrier, though, and Childe’s fingers itch to summon a water blade in the case that things go south. Considering that there is rarely anyone that would dare to disturb him at this time of night, Childe would say his precautionary measures are reasonable. He had summoned an angry water god, after all. It was only a matter of time before the angry mobs got to him. 

The knocks sound again, and Childe angrily ruffles his hair against the towel. If they could just wait one second, he could answer the door with dry hair, but no. Peace was not an option, apparently, and neither was a perfectly fluffed head of hair.

He stomps toward the door and swings it open, ready to scold whoever had—

“Xiansheng!” He startles when he sees Zhongli standing in the doorway, donning a simple black t-shirt tucked into high waisted pants that were loose and slightly flared at the bottom, and his feet were covered by simple strappy sandals. Childe vaguely remembers purchasing those pants for him when he had mentioned wanting more loose and liberating clothes. The ex-Archon looks good like this. He looks… impossibly soft. Vulnerable, almost. There’s a distant look in his amber eyes that has Childe mildly concerned, though. Childe tries to ignore the sudden urge to protect him to his last dying breath.

“What are you doing here?” He sidesteps and reaches out to drag his boyfriend in. “I thought we had already discussed you sleeping so late! I know you’re an adeptus, you don’t require sleep, blah blah blah, but still, you—“

“I missed you,” Zhongli stated so matter of factly. “I wanted to see you. So I came here.” 

Childe gawks at him and closes the door slowly. So he had just walked all the way here?! At this hour?! Goodness, the audacity—

“Xiansheng,” he whines instead, dragging the older man into an embrace. He wraps his arms around his neck and presses his cheek into his hair. “You can’t just say those things. It’s impossible for me to love you more.”

Zhongli holds him with desperation, welcoming the hug so enthusiastically that Childe knows there’s something to be said. 

“Can I stay the night?” The adeptus asks once they pull apart. 

Childe looks at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even need to ask! Go, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner?” 

Zhongli drops his bag by his side of the bed and takes a seat, still watching Childe with careful eyes. 

“I’ve eaten,” he answers carefully. “I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable at… home… so I came here.” 

Childe frowns, and joins him on the bed. He flips the covers open and clambers in, resting back against the headboard. “Not comfortable? Is something wrong with your place?” 

“Maybe,” Zhongli tries, “I really don’t know. Frankly I’ve been conflicted about… many things… recently, and I feel as if I have reached an impasse. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Zhongli,” Tartaglia says, suddenly serious, “how come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?” His voice drops an octave, the worry seeping into his tone. 

Zhongli reclines and rests against the headrest, too. “I did not know how to express my troubles to you, mainly because I’m having trouble defining it myself.” 

Well, that’s fair enough. Tartaglia can’t find it in himself to be mad at that reasoning.

“Well,” Tartaglia begins, reaching for Zhongli’s hand and hugging his arm to his chest. He scoots closer and uses Zhongli’s shoulder as a pillow. “Why don’t you just start rambling and maybe it’ll come to you.”

“I think I have a vague idea, actually,” Zhongli adjusts himself to make himself more comfortable for Ajax. The both of them find themselves staring up at the ceiling as they converse. “Remember when I asked you what ‘home’ means to you?”

“Of course,” Tartaglia answers. Oh, he has an idea of where this is going.

“Well, I’m unsure of what it means to me.”

Bingo.

“What it means to you?” The Harbinger asks, craning his neck to look up at him. Zhongli hums, affirmative. 

“Yes, I’ve been struggling to define the term for myself. I’ve been observing others much more closely and how they define their own home, but I’m afraid it has made me more confused.”

Tartaglia juts out his bottom lip in contemplation. “What do you mean?” 

Zhongli takes a deep breath, a long explanation at the tip of his tongue. Tartaglia braces himself, as he usually does.

“Today you told me home was your family. Miss Xiangling told me home was her father, and the smell of their kitchen. Young Xingqiu told me his home was within whatever book he was reading, even describing it as his safe space. And Miss Ningguang, most peculiar of all, had told me home was when she was out at sea, but only when Captain Beidou was by her side. Mind you, I had fully expected it to be the Jade palace, considering the built it from the ground up.” Zhongli rambles, “and I just found it strange how so many humans find different definitions for the word home. Such a simple word, too, so imagine my surprise when I discover it’s true complexity.”

“I’ve encountered many things in my life, Ajax. I have met so many people in this lifetime and watched them grow, watched them die, and even watched some be reincarnated. But I think…” he trails off, and the warmth in his eyes glimmer as he reaches an epiphany. “I think I am struggling to define the term because I have never been presented with the idea of stability. Things are always changing. The world around me continues to warp and I have noticed, in my time so far, that humans find the need for stability and reassurance because of the nature of their short lives. That is where I am lacking.”

—

Try as he might, Tartaglia takes slight offense to his statement. 

Lacking stability? The thought was bitter on his tongue.

Was… was Childe not enough? 

No, no, he forcefully derailed that train of thought, he came here tonight because you’re the only thing he can rely on in his life right now. Show him that.

“Well,” Childe starts carefully, and thanks the stars that his voice is steady. “What about me?”

Zhongli makes a confused noise. “What about you?” 

“Do you consider me as a stable thing in your life?” Childe prods, digging his cheek deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Zhongli snorts. 

Childe unironically feels an ache in his chest. He stills against Zhongli. Ouch. 

Luckily, Zhongli is at least able to pick up on his sudden discomfort, and he’s quick to follow up his statement. 

“You misunderstand, Ajax, you being wildly chaotic is a beautiful thing in and of itself.” Zhongli gently pries Childe off his arm to look at him directly. As expected, Childe is upset. He’s got the same glassy eyes he always dons when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to admit it, and his bottom lip is red and obviously bitten in an attempt to keep himself from feeling unreasonably angry. 

“Oh,” Zhongli coos at the sight, “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Childe blinks hard, “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Zhongli is quick to negate his self-deprecative tendencies, “I must have come off very harsh just now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Childe thumps a fist against his chest, “it’s fine, really.”

“As I was saying,” the Archon continues, “nothing about my life so far has been stable, Ajax. Things are constantly changing. Time continuously flows, and it simply does not wait for any man. Unfortunately, I have seen many people come and go. And unfortunately, one day you will become one of them--”

“Zhongli stop,” Childe interrupts him. He’s angry, now. His brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on his face. There’s a slight scowl across his lips where there used to be a precious smile just moments ago. “What the hell?” He asks angrily. 

“Ajax,” Zhongli scolds softly, “it would be in your best interests if you let me finish.”

“Well, not if you’re just gonna talk about death,” Childe retorts. He’s aware that he sounds childish, but such a topic is not to be taken to lightly. Especially when it revolves around him, and what he would be leaving behind. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Whether or not you’re stable, whether or not you’ll be here forever, you are the most important thing to me, probably ever.” He speaks with a certainty that makes Childe shiver. “You are the first person in a very long time that has made me want to try to grasp at the fleeting seconds I have with you, Ajax. You drive me crazy. And I love you for it, because never in my six thousand years have I had as much fun as when I am with you.”

Dammit, Childe is crying now. Zhongli has such a way with words, how could he not? Dating him is just one, huge, glorified emotional rollercoaster. Zhongli brushes a stray, reluctant tear away with the pad of his ungloved hand. 

“Frankly, stability is overrated,” the ex-Archon smiles at the soft giggle that escapes his beloved’s lips. “I have found, albeit slowly, that I would rather have someone loud and rambunctious than someone slow and settled. That is my role, if anything. There simply cannot be two of us, can there?”

A soft “no” is huffed as laughter from Childe. What a boring relationship that would be, truly.

“But if it is stability you seek, Ajax, let me be that for you. Let me be here, solid as stone and steadfast. Let me be the pillar of strength you need to turn to in times of trouble. Okay?” He brushes a knuckle gently across his skin.

Childe makes a sound that sounds a little broken and a little delirious. “When did this become about me, Xiansheng?” 

“To me, it’s always been about you,” Zhongli smiles fondly. Childe feels as if he’s been shot in the heart.

Childe gives him a shaky smile and nods. He can’t seem to control his heart at the moment, so instead, he says, “You’re my home, Zhongli.”

--

The gears seemed to finally click somewhere in Zhongli’s chest. The hollow feeling inside suddenly swelled with a sense of nostalgia, bringing with it a feeling of peace and serenity. Zhongli’s eyes widen, and the ex-Archon looks down at Childe with a sudden air of solid certainty. Childe almost shrinks at the intensity of his gaze. 

“Of course,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Of course it’s you.”

“What?” 

“How could I be so blind?” Zhongli cups his face with both hands, and Childe reciprocates by placing both palms on his wrists. Confused, but following along. Cor lapis eyes stare straight into his soul, unforgiving as it digs deeper and deeper into what makes him whole. 

“Xiansheng?” Ajax asks, dazed by the intensity of Zhongli’s stare. God, his eyes are so golden.

“It’s you, Ajax,” for once, his voice cracks and he loses composure, “you… are home. You are home. To me, that is my definition of home. I only ever feel-- I only ever feel like I belong when I am with you. It was so obvious, and I--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax gently pries off the hands cupped around his face. His heart can’t handle this right now. It’s too much. He’s too in love, he needs to do something or he’ll explode. He stares directly into those beautiful, mesmerizing golden eyes. Ajax cradles Zhongli’s hands in his own, petting over his knuckles, when he asks, “Marry me?”

His eyes widen comically, as if they weren’t already the size of saucepans with his first epiphany.

“Oh.”

So that’s what he was missing. 

“I know we said we would take it slow, and I know I’m young, or whatever” Childe begins to ramble, “but fuck going slow, Xiansheng, it’s been months and all I want to do is go to sleep with you next to me. I know what I want and it seems like you do, too, but if I misread that then--”

Zhongli hushes him with an incessant press of his lips against Childe’s. It is a loving kiss, yes, but it is filled with a desperation that only the both of them understand. It is a kiss that is so different from the others; one full of certainty and ambition, a kiss full of overwhelming commitment. The longing behind the contact is an answer in and of itself, but he pulls away to speak regardless. 

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against Childe’s, “yes.”

That night, Zhongli finally comes to the conclusion that home does not have to mean four walls and a roof. It doesn’t pertain to any kind of fancy kitchen appliances, or four post bed frames. Zhongli quickly learns that it doesn’t have to be about a place, and all the stories it tells. It’s not even Liyue, the very land he built himself. It has nothing to do with any of that. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of Zhongli’s inner conflict has him rolling.

Instead, it has everything to do with the red head beneath him. It has to do with the way he calls his name in the middle of the night, claws his hands down his back and juts his hips forward, desperately seeking friction. Home has everything to do with swollen lips, red from being kissed, cheeks hot pink from the heat slowly filling the room, and strong thighs clenching and unclenching around his waist. Home has to do with his precious Snezhnayan soulmate.

Simply, home is Ajax. 

[tipsydipsydo]

Jar of Kinks [M] 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 1.8k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut!

Warnings: Sexual Language; Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Dynamics (Dom! Yoongi and Sub! Reader); Petnames; Praising; Begging; Teasing; Multiple Orgasms; Overstimulation; Spanking; Ass-Play (fem.); (anal) Fingering; Usage of spit; Double Penetration; unprotected vaginal Penetration (please stay safe!); Mentions of Sextoys

Summary: Your relationship with Yoongi is young, you two have still so much to explore with each other behind closed bedroom doors. There are so many secret fantasies and kinks that needs to be unwrapped...

A/N: This Fanfiction is based on my own Jars of Kinks! The dear @yoongiandthebiaswreckers asked me if I'd be interested to write these kinks a little more out... with Yoongi, he's my biaswrecker. So yeah, I couldn't deny her this ask 🙈👉🏻👈🏻💕

Also big Thanks are going to @borathae, she turned me into such an assplay and Sub! Yoongi Hoe and also @kay-diggle, because she confirmed my fantasies about Yoongi has an ass-thing!

[Links]:

▪ Jars of Kinks - Sub Yoongi (coming soon)

▪ Blog Navigation 

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Muffled moans comes your lips, getting lost quickly in the pillow under your cheek. You're ass up on the bed, the power of Yoongi's thrusts and the all this pure pleasure press your upper body literally into the matress.

All these sinful moans and whimpers that leaves your mouth and throat, turns automatically into unidentifiable noises. It's kinda weird but exactly this fact turns your boyfriend beyond believe on, makes him all feral.

He loves to see you crumble under him, falling piece for piece apart for him.

Yoongi loves that he pounds you so fucking good that you can't hold yourself up anymore, that your arms gave in and your hands are grabbing desperately the sheets under you. To have at least something to hold on and not to get perished by all the desire you feel for Yoongi in every viber of your body.

His thrusts are not as fast as you're usually used to, it's rather a slow rhythm. But oh my god, he's stretching you so good and his dick is going so. fucking. deep!

Your boyfriend prefer to take his time and to use his energy thoughtful and well calculated, trying to last as long as possible while ruining your poor pussy over and over again. You already had two orgasms, just from the foreplay and you can guess, it wouldn't be the last ones this night!

Yoongi is a giver, he loves to please.

That was one of the very first things you've learned in this relationship, that you definitely not have to worry about how you'll have to fake an orgasm in the most realistic way.

Yoongi showed you right at your first time together that he's able to please a woman. More than that.

Your relationship is still young, three months ago you've started dating each other officially. But compared to your previous relationships, you've had in these three months already more orgasms than in the last 5 years!

He's different than all the other mens before him.

He knows how a female body works. He knows how to read your body language. He knows where he has to stop and asks you at first before he continues. He knows that every person and every body is completely individual and everybody has different preferences and limits.

This man knows that he has to take his time to explore the body and sexual needs of the other person, that it needs time, love and trust to open up to each other. That those things simply need patience and empathy to let the safe walls down and show them all these different facettes of you, to let your partner slowly unwrap these secret desires which are deep down in you.

He really cares for you. A thing that most partners didn't do.

A harsh slap onto your right butt cheek makes you yelp in surprise but also in pain and pleasure. Quiet whimpers are leaving your lips while Yoongi massages gently the bruised skin.

"Your attention wasn't here by me, Babygirl. I just wondered what thoughts are running through this pretty head while I fuck you into the matress, Sweetheart...",grunts Yoongi in a low and raspy voice. His hips are snapping more forceful now, want to make sure that your thoughts will stay here for now on.

"I-I just thought about h-how... oh my God, Yoongi... how lucky and g-grateful I am to have you... Fucking me so good and making sure that I-I'll enjoy it...", you whimper and bite your lower lip, trying to suspress a desperate mewl.

"Hmm, yes Babygirl~ I want to make sure that I'll to fuck you your overthinking brain all nicely out... only when you can't think straight anymore and just are able to enjoy my fat cock in your dripping pussy you'll be able to cum... and I want to make you cum for a third time, Baby. I want you to have your third orgasm on my cock, I want you to clench so tightly around me when you cum that you'll gonna milk my balls dry... are you doing that for me, Darling?", pants Yoongi with a breathy voice, slowly getting closer to the edge as well.

Over the whole time your boyfriend was telling you what he wants to do to you, he squeezed and massaged both of your ass cheeks with a firm grip. He didn't even needed to tell you, it was pretty obvious right from the beginning that he kinda has an ass thing.

It's not like you dislike it, hell no! You welcome his admiration and grabby hands... even more, you actually love it when he pulls your cheeks apart to be able to watch himself sliding so wonderful in and out of your drenched folds. Sometimes even with the little hope he would pay some attention to your other hole which is so nicely on display as well.

You had already more than enough possibilities to give him so more hints or to talk with him about that... but everytime you still hadn't enough courage to verbalisize your kinks.

Too often you got turned down for from your previous boyfriends for those fantasies, most of the time with not so nice words. The last thing you want is to ruin everything right at the beginning, just because you couldn't watch your mouth properly.

...well, you wish you would be able to shut your damn mouth up and control your desperate body...

More than once Yoongi's left thump brushes casually over your tight puckered musclering when his hand grope roughly a handful of your soft flesh. Of course with no intentions behind it but you can't control yourself when your whole body is pumped full with greedy desire. Everything, that comes near to your asshole makes you so fucking desperate, you can't withstand the seduction to buck you hips up. Literally begging non-verbal with this move for some more stimulation.

A low chuckle rumples in Yoongi's chest. If you would look over your shoulder now, you'd see that the right corner of his mouth is curved into a smug smile.

"Does my little princess likes it when I rub my thumb over her cute asshole? She's sensitive here, hm? Your sweet hole is clenching so desperately and your tiny pussy just got even wetter...", he teases you, circling your sensitive musclering with his finger on purpose now.

Now you've reached a point where you couldn't hold your secret kink down anymore, mewling and whining you're pressing your ass in his hands. Your head is nodding furiously and you confirm his guess with countless whimpered "Yes!" that tumbles out of your mouth.

"Fuck. God, Y/N, you don't know how fucking hot that is... your ass was always so damn seductive and now you even show me that you have a thing for assplay! That's so freaking hot, I could blow a load right away.. ", growls Yoongi in a tone you've never heard before... so primal and animalistic.

Before you have even the chance to open your mouth, the next harsh spank lands on your left cheek. Shortly afterwards Yoongi's palm is soothing the sharp sting and pulls your cheeks apart for a second time.

You're about to melt into a puddle of need and pleasure, you're in full speed on your way to your third orgasm. You completely lost the control over the words that comes over your lips, your mouth is babbling non-stop. Begging him to to stuff you up, to finger your tight asshole, filling you up with his digits.

A deep groan escapes your boyfriend's throat, it didn't take much time to spread your ass open until your hole is full in display for him. God, how much he admire this scenery...

Yoongi want to make this process as short as possible, simply use his spit as lube and massaging it onto your tight muscle. Gently and carefully he let his middle finger sinks into your greedy asshole.

A moan full of lust leaves your mouth, rocking your hips against his pelvis.

"God, Baby, you are such a perfect Queen for me! How greedy and desperate you are to get your ass stuffed up while I ruin your sweet pussy, if I knew you love double penetration that much.. fuck, I'd have fucked you today with a nice and thick buttplug in your ass. Pulling and pushing it in and out with every thrust until your asshole is all soft and stretched open for me to bury my creamy load right into your cute asshole~", purrs Yoongi with a devilish chuckle. Drilling his cock faster and faster into you, abusing your cunt to the maximum in the best possible way.

While telling you completely shameless all this filth, his ring finger joined his middle finger in your ass, pumping them in and out in a fast pace.

Now it's too much.

All this let the coil of pure pleasure in your abdomen bursts open and knocks all air out of your lungs. If Yoongi wouldn't hold you up by your hips, your body would collapse completely onto the bed. Your mouth is wide open to let a silent scream out, your walls spasming so tightly around Yoongi's cock that he also couldn't hold it anymore.

Choked groans are leaving his throat as he rides his and your own orgasm out. You literally milked the very last droplet of cum out of his cock.

After coming down from his high, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them off on the towel under you. With a soft smile Yoongi gives you a litte peck between your shoulder blades.

"I think we should order some nice buttplugs online, hm?~"

"We don't have to... Go to the dresser and pull the third drawer out and take the second box out of it. I bet you'll find something in there, you'd like to try on me...", you wisper tiredly but with a coy smile in the corners of your mouth.

You're already halfway in the dreamland when you hear Yoongi's raspy voice saying:

"Fuck, Y/N. I didn't know I'm that lucky to can call a kinky Godess my sexy Girlfriend. You store a half sexshop in here!"

[thetorturerwrites]

Heads I Win/Tails You Lose

Summary: Silly sex games + Adam Sackler = Best date night ever?

A/N: What can I say. I love me some Sackler perversion. This is part of the LC universe for continuity but can be enjoyed as a one-shot.

This is an adult fic. 18+ only. Shameless smut. Enter at your own risk.

Words: 3.7k

“Heads,” he said, cocky and smirking, “No bra, no panties, and those tight pants I love.”

You had been playing this game since your first official ‘date.’ Adam had taken you to an arcade, won you a teddy bear, and flipped a coin for a blow job in the photo booth. 

You still had the pictures.

“Tails,” you countered, knocking your knuckles on the kitchen island pensively, “MY panties and those tight pants I love.  And you draw a heart on your dick.”

He chuckled, spinning the little gold coin around and around on the glossy counter top. You watched him, doing your best to keep a poker face because Adam could read you like a book. He could always tell when you needed a cuddle, a cup of tea, or a quick, hard fuck in the bathroom, any bathroom, the nearest bathroom.

All of which he was happy to supply.

“Deal.”

He flipped the coin high in the air and snapped his palm over it when it landed, inching it out to you so you could look first.  He loved that you wanted to play his games, and he told you that he never wanted you to feel like he cheated, even though you suspected that fucking coin didn’t have a tails side.

You groaned and flipped off the shiny mascot head. Adam slunk around the island to crouch and wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face between your pajama-clad breasts.

“Wait,” you pushed at his shoulder until he looked up, a smirk playing on his plump lips. “Double or nothing?”

He growled into your neck, intrigued, and stood up to fake glower at you, crossing his muscular arms, and pulling a mask of seriousness over his entertained features.

“Heads edging,” you licked your lips, playing out the idea of him leaking rivers as you tormented him, “Tails...uh...over-stim?”

Adam captured your mouth on a heated kiss, sucking at your lower lip and teasing your tongue out to play with his. You slid your arms around his neck to draw him down to your height, bowing his large frame towards you.

“Deal,” he said it against your lips, pushed you a step away, and flipped again.

You wailed, loud and dramatic.

“Fuck that fucking coin.”

“It's gonna be a long night for you, Little Cunt,” he crooned it against your temple, slapped your ass, and walked off.

Post gamble, there had been some argument over the shirt you wanted to wear because Adam wanted something clingy so he could see your bra-less tits bounce and wobble, and you wanted something flowy so nobody else could see that very thing.

Ultimately, you compromised on a light, white tank under a cute, button-up blue flannel that went so well with the dark blue tight pants he wanted.  He bit your fingers when you tried to button the shirt, and you resigned yourself to the fact that you were just going to have to keep closing it to cover yourself.

An hour later, you were on the train to your friend’s house for magic hour. Tossing you a bone, Adam wore the tight pants you loved, and you were absently rubbing the seam at his outer thigh as you leaned back into his chest, lulled into a relaxed state by the routine rumble of the tracks. He drove you absolutely crazy, but he also made you feel safe, the way his body naturally caged and curved around you.

His lips at your ear drew a happy sigh and smile, and you gave a wholly contented coo as he tucked your ass into his pelvis, holding you just there by those large, ever-so-helpful fingers. Wrapped up in him like this was your second-favorite place to be.

He concentrated his kisses on the space just behind and below your earlobe, the one that sent shivers and goosebumps down the length of your spine. His fingers skimmed just under the edge of your shirt, rubbing little circles into your tummy.

“Lemme see,” he nipped at your earlobe.

You harrumphed and glanced around, certain that everybody on the train was watching you, but the car was only half full of readers, people listening to music, phone junkies.  Begrudgingly, you tugged the flaps of your flannel apart, showing Adam the pebbling, straining nipples poking through the thin tank.

He hummed appreciatively against your throat, lifted the low neckline of the fabric, and blew hot breath down against your already flushing skin.

“You have perfect tits, did you know that?”

Tucking his hands into your pockets, Adam rubbed his already hard cock into your ass, hips working slow and steady. Dipping his head down to your ear, he licked at the delicate shell and whispered how hard he was going to fuck you later and what a dirty thing you were to play his wicked games.

Your body loosened and melted.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

~

In the elevator of your friend’s building, he growled a pleased “oh fuck yeah” at the tiny, cramped, closet of a thing, mashed the button to the very top floor, and hoisted you into his arms before the door even closed.

You clung to his neck and waist as Adam pushed you into the wall and kissed you stupid.  His mouth slanted eagerly over yours, licking at your lips until you granted him entry. He greedily swallowed every sound you made, coaxing more saliva, more whimpering with his sliding tongue.

Your thighs clenched around his middle when he bit and tugged at your lower lip hard, and you clawed at his scalp, having carded your fingers into his raven locks to stop them from trembling.

When you were gasping for air and rocking your body against his fervently, he spun around, set you on your feet, and pressed the button for the 3rd floor, sending you back down to the party. You clung to his shirt to re-establish some version of equilibrium, and he nuzzled your neck to help you balance.

~

In the kitchen, after you’d escaped his grabby hands to pour yourself a drink, Adam cornered you against the cabinets to nibble at your mouth again, lifting up to purr into your ear that he liked the way they looked all swollen and pink and he kept thinking about them wrapped around his dick.

You blushed furiously and batted at his shoulder because there was a whole other goddamn person in the room, and he was manhandling you like a touch-starved teenager. He stood across from you, arms folded against his chest, flexing his dick at you in those tight pants until you were alone.

“Fucking Christ, Adam,” you whimpered it as quietly as you could, backed into the counter top again. 

He gave you his best ‘Who? Me?’ look even as he pushed your shirt up over your collarbone. You squeaked and shot up onto your toes as though you could catch your shirt and chase it back into place.

Adam’s large, warm hands blanketed both of your breasts, and you bit your lip, looking up at him helpless and beyond aroused. He squeezed and rolled your stiff nipples, tugging at the sensitive skin until you danced and arched against him. He pushed both of them together and bent down to lick a fat swath up the middle followed by a trail of kisses up your neck and, finally, to your mouth.

Before you could beg him to do something, anything more, voices drew near, and he tugged your shirt back down with an evil wink. He pushed the whiskey into your hand, bent down for another quick kiss, and led you from the room and back into the party.

~

On the patio, where you’d escaped for some cooler air, Adam dragged you into the darkest corner, tucked in between a power box and a drain pipe.

“Are you hiding from me,” he chided, fingers already pushing your flannel apart and raising the paltry white fabric.

You groaned loud at the cold air upon your sore tits and shook your head. He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, murmuring against your mouth that it was ok with him if you had an audience but you better hush if you didn’t want one.

Pushing his knee between your thighs, he pinned you to the wall, dipped his beautiful face down, and licked at your nipple, slow and deliberate.  You tugged at the hair decorating the back of his neck, intending to move him away, but flattened your fingers against his scalp when he sucked the pert peak into the hot cavern of his mouth.

He could almost make you cum from sucking your tits, and he knew it.  Switching from one to the other, he nibbled and teased and mouthed until you were whining and wiggling.

“Shit. Fuck. Adam, don’t…”

But it was too late, he was doing that thing you loved so fucking much where he rolled your nipple between tongue and teeth, sealed his lips tight around it, and let it go with a loud, slurping pop.

There was no way your friends on the patio didn’t hear it, you thought, no fucking way.

~

Thinking you’d surely get a moment’s reprieve, you ducked into the bathroom only for Adam to shove you the rest of the way in and follow before too many could see.

He stripped you of your shirts entirely, bent you over the cold sink, and peeled your jeans down to your knees.

“Is my Little Cunt hungry?”

He clucked it at you, eyeballing the absolute mess you'd made in your pants, and you nodded pitifully, knowing he loved it when you played your part. Adam pushed you up onto your toes, slapped at your bare ass, and buried his face in your cunt.

“Holy shit,” you moaned louder than you intended, but it was just too good.

The cold sink against your inflamed, overworked breasts was heaven.  Adam’s mouth sucking on your puffy, fat pussy lips was heaven. His hands kneading and spreading your ass cheeks was heaven.

Adam himself, however, was the goddamn devil because he plied your thighs and cunt with hungry kisses, fucked your slit nice and deep with his tongue, nipped and nibbled at every square inch.

Except your clit.

“Goddamn, I can see your pussy clenching.” 

He had tucked his thumb into the left labia and was tugging you open, staring directly into the most intimate part of you. It was vulgar and obscene, and you absolutely did it again for him without needing to be told.

“Mm, good girl.”

On a debauched growl, he pressed in again and tongue-fucked you until you shook and your pussy perfumed the air. You panted and whimpered, pushed your ass back against him, and squirmed to try and get him where you wanted.

You were just about to beg when there was a light knock on the door.

~

In the library, Adam pulled you into his lap on the love seat and dropped his hand between your legs. He again instructed you to show him your tender, perpetually hard nipples, and you tugged the tank up just enough that they peeked out.

He nuzzled your jaw, licked at your pulse, and stroked his agile, wide fingers up and down the seam of your pants, from clit to flowing cunt, over and over and over.

You clutched at his shirt and rocked your hips for him, too far gone to lascivious need to give two shits about who might hear you or walk in to see.

“I need to fuck this pretty mouth. Now.”

His voice was low and thick, and you purred at the tone, loving the command and the begging that mingled when he had spent so long turning you on that he was about to cum in his pants.

You slithered off his lap and between his legs, pushing his shirt up to pepper the taut abs with kisses. You wiggled your tongue into his belly button, mimicking the way he’d plunged into your pussy earlier.

“Sweet,” you asked coyly, roving a hungry look up the length of his body, “Or sloppy?”

He groaned and leaned forward to force a kiss on you, canting your head far to one side and fisting his fingers in your hair. You knew it drove him crazy when you said indecent things to him in such nice ways.

His dirty, dirty librarian.

“Filthy girl,” he bit at the corner of your mouth, “You can cry on my cock later. Don’t think your friends would believe I hadn’t hurt you.”

He leaned back into the cushions, popped the button on those tight, tight pants, and wrenched them down his hips enough for his hard, leaking cock to burst out, ready and waiting. Your mouth watered; and when he reached for your head, you knew this was a time-sensitive operation. He was ready to cum, and he wanted your mouth for it.

Pressing your hand into his abdomen to line him up, you licked your lips and wrapped your mouth around the thick column, burying it as far in as you could get it and settling, letting the saliva build and pool and letting your tongue and the back of your mouth get accustomed to being so pressed.

“Fu-huck, I love when you do that,” his throat bobbed, voice strained.

You purred around him, acclimated to the invasion, and pulled all the way back, letting his cock pop free of your mouth so you could gulp in a breath.  Nearly all of his length was shiny now, coated with your spit, and you watched him wrap impatient fingers around the base to squeeze.

"One more time," he rasped it out, "Gimme that hot cunt of a mouth one more time."

It liquefied you to watch him embroiled in such lecherous need and to know that his relentless tormenting had him just as riled up as you.

He reached for your face, cupped your cheek, and tugged you back down to his weeping dick. He wasn’t going to make it much longer, but he was going to be primed and ready to make sure you spent the night riding lightning under him.

Parting your swollen lips, you slid his cock along the length of your flattened tongue and allowed him in as far as you could.  Your fingers splayed across his jumping thighs, and your nose nudged his fingers where they were wrapped tight around the thick base.

“Nnmstaythere,” he was all want and demand now, nearly whining at how close he was.

Adam threaded fingers into your hair, palming your scalp and keeping your flushing face right where he wanted it. His hips bucked upwards, and you moaned at the smutty sound of him fucking your mouth, your heat always kicked up a notch by the profane noises.

“Guh! That’s it, baby; swallow.”

His fingers dug into your neck, and he pushed up hard into you just as you complied, swallowing around him so the roof of your mouth and tongue undulated, working him right past that edge. You hummed your praise, feeling the surge shoot up through his cock just under the skin to flood your eager throat with his hot taste.

You didn’t push at his legs until you felt the last twitch and dribble; and then, you propped yourself up on his thighs and demanded sticky kisses, which you were rewarded with.

“Goddamn you guys,” said a female voice behind you, shooting your eyes wide. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

~

On the train home, you had your blushing face buried so far into Adam’s neck you nearly couldn’t breathe.  He thought the whole thing was hilarious and that you were, in fact, the hottest fucking thing ever, but you were so mortified that you practically sprinted out of the party.

He cajoled you out from your hiding spot by standing up abruptly.  On a yelp, you shot to your feet so that you wouldn’t fall over only for him to tug you back down into his lap without your burning face buried where he couldn’t see it.

“Look, lemme take your mind off of it.”

He dug the gold coin out of his pocket and showed it to you. Your breath caught and you looked from him to it and back again.

“Heads, right now, hard, on this train.” You flushed but nodded, hoping that regardless of where or how, you were going to get fucked and soon. “Tails, nice and sweet, home in bed.”

You very nearly threw the coin out the window because hard and fast right here right now was your preference, truly, but you nodded again and waited for the flip. Even if he edged you all the way home, you would always play his game, reveling in the perversion of it with him.

Holding your breath, you watched the gold glint for a second and then leaned over to peek.

“Thank fucking god,” you grumbled, never so grateful for his bastard, trick coin.

“Double or nothing,” he quipped, and you shot to your feet.

“Adam, if you don’t fuck me in the next two minutes, I am going to find someone else who will. I swear to God.”

Your voice carried, but you truly didn’t care who heard you now.  It hadn’t really registered for you that the train car was empty.  It only mattered that this sex-pot of a man had edged you all night long, and you needed to be fucked. Pronto.

He chuckled darkly and stuffed the coin back into his pocket, spinning you around and bending you slightly forward over the little, brown partition. You hastily fumbled and tore your jeans open, shimmying them down your hips just enough.

When his fingers connected with your sopping, impatient pussy, you moaned in wanton need and pushed back into him, lifting onto your toes and down again to ride his touch. You whimpered, the plea in your voice evident, and you slammed your hand on the window when he stepped behind you, rubbing his hard length between the slick lips.

“This what you want, Little Cunt?”

“Jesusfuckyesplease.”

“When we get arrested,” his breath caught as he pushed into you, “I’m telling them this was your idea. Fuck.”

You nodded, ready to blindly agree with anything he said. You’d agree with the police, too, and then promptly explain that you absolutely just HAD to because he’d been driving you into dick-frenzy all night. 

Gripping the little metal bar, you pushed back against him until he was sunk to the hilt in your clenching core. You bit down on your lip hard because you were already ready to shout his name, to wail and scream for him.

Adam gripped your hip in one hand and slid the other up under your shirt to palm and squeeze your breast. Finally, fucking finally, his hips began to piston forward, slamming you into the seat in front of you, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Your face, mouth, throat fell into a mantra of yesyesyes as he buried the fat length of his rigid cock into your pliant, slippery cunt again and again. He grunted and dug his fingers into your flesh, and you hissed when his hips moved even harder, even faster.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the subway car, and you lost your fucking mind when you could hear the erotic squish of him pommeling your overflowing pussy.

Your cunt clenched and spasmed, and you keened, face scrunched up in desperation. You were right on the edge of those deep, deep orgasms only he had ever been able to conjure. Your thighs burned, your fingers and toes tingled, and your throat was dry and hoarse from all the whimpering and wailing.

“Adam,” you croaked it out, voice cracked and worn thin, “Baby please.”

He leaned into you, slithering fingers around your neck to hold you back against his chest and dipping his lips to your ear. He murmured into your ear that you should concentrate really hard, think about him sucking on your tits, about him tongue-fucking you in the bathroom, about him burying his face between your legs and lapping at your clit.

You nodded along with every filthy word, picturing all of those things and more, concentrating on your bouncing nipples, the subtle gyration of your throbbing clit, the relentless, expert plunge of Adam’s perfect cock.

Your face smoothed out as the wave crested, your mouth falling open on breathless acceptance. When you were right there, teetering on the edge of the kind of orgasm that would rattle your bones, he slipped his fingers in between the puffy, glistening lips and rubbed tight circles against your clit, fast and demanding.

“That's it. Such a needy, hungry thing. Give it to me.”

Every part of you trembled and sizzled. You’d been wound tight all evening, his wicked game keeping you right there, straddling that line. When you finally came, it was profound and thunderous and a great loosening of every muscle, joint, and nerve.

You couldn’t even shout.

On a low, pornographic moan, you pushed your ass further back into him, and your body gushed a new torrent of hot and wet, the orgasm lighting you up and giving him new convulsions and syrupy slip to play in.

You quaked, fingers gripping the silver bar tight. You held your breath because it seemed like it wasn’t going to stop, and you were so flooded that you felt it sliding down your legs to disappear into your jeans.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

Gripping your thighs, he pushed your strung out body off of his dick and pressed his forehead into your shoulder.  Somewhere in your mental periphery, you knew it was because he almost came in you for the second time tonight, and he certainly had other plans.

“Shit, babe. Next stop is ours.”

He helped you button your pants and tug down your shirts, kissing your nose and telling you how cute you were when you were cock-drunk. You chuffed a laugh and shrugged.

“What can ya do,” your voice was small, still a bit unsteady.  He grinned and stole another kiss.

“C’mon,” he turned and patted his shoulder, “Hop up or we’re never gonna get out of here.”

Grousing, you stood onto your toes as he crouched and wrapped your arms around his neck.  He tucked his hands beneath your knees and shot to his feet just as the train doors opened. 

And like the absolute gentleman that he is, Adam Sackler carried you home.

[1zashreena1]

No Shame

Pairing: M/F, nebulously OC/Priest!Diego Jimenez [Starz Power] AU IMAGINE

Rating: LITERAL FILTH

Warnings: Power imbalance, astronomical blasphemy, Diego's pornographic mouth, old timey woman related bullshit, set some time before 1900 in what will be present day Mexico

A/N:  I am an atheist so please keep that in mind as I unintentionally mangle Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. This was prompted by an ask, you know who you are >.>.

Tag a friend! @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 @fleurfatale89 @mandoplease @heresathreebee @chensingmachinee​

Photo credit to @girlpornparadise​

I just woke up.

I have lost my last shred of sanity.

I must reevaluate all of my life choices.

I need guidance, discipline, a strong hand.

I am lost.

Perhaps mother was right. I will at least give her suggestion a chance. Father never forced us to obey her last wishes, but even if I never become a believer there must be some lesson I can learn from the experience. The only christian church in this new locale is catholic, that alone will be a new experience. I will walk there either early this morning or in the evening after the heat has dissipated. Mexico is a strange and wondrous place, but this heat is not conducive to proper corsets. Or really any underthings, for that matter.

-----------------

The walk to the church is long. You go slowly in the evening heat, unwilling to become any more disgusting with perspiration than you already are. You had forgone petticoats, crinoline, or even bloomers, but found the bounce of your chest too much and so had opted for the cropped corset. You are beginning to understand the local women's choice of garments.

The church is stone, backed up to the cliffside, dark and cool on the inside. It is also echoingly empty. You wander about, touching pews, taking in murals, and dipping the tip of a finger into what you assume must be holy water. 

"Are you lost, little girl?"

With a small shriek, you whip around to locate the owner of that rasping voice. It is a priest, It is a damn shame, is what it is. He is tall, broad, strikingly broad, eyes and hair dark, and he has just enough of an accent that you know English is not his native tongue. You gawk at the nearly perfect features; a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, thick brows, a cutting jawline, and sinful lips.

"I- I am sorry. There was no one about so I was simply looking. I did not mean to intrude." You stutter out. It should be a crime of nature to take a man like that to the celibacy of the church.

"Of course you are not intruding. But, if I may, you do seem… lost. And alone." His words are solicitous but his eyes glitter in the low light. Absolutely massive hands emerge from the sleeves of the cassock and you have to remind yourself that it is rude to stare. He stalks over to you, there is no other word for such a predatory gait, and you stumble back a step. He is not as tall as his hulking presence seemed, but he still towers over your frame.

"I am. Lost, that is. I did come here alone, but I live with my father. We only recently moved here." Why are you telling him so much? Is it the collar? Or his hungry expression? 

No one has ever looked at you thus, as though you were some delicacy to be savored. It confuses you greatly and you feel quite flustered. It evokes feelings that were stirred the few times you snuck out at night, slinking through the streets of Philadelphia to peer into a foreign world of nightlife and debauchery. You had seen the opium dens, the women walking the streets, people enjoying themselves and each other in ways you so desperately wanted for yourself. Mother always did curse me as a hedonist. 

"Would you like to confess? Have you been sinful?" He holds out one wide hand in gesture to the confessional.

"Oh, I am quite certain that would not help." You laugh bitterly. "I am not Catholic, in fact, I am not even a Christian. I imagine I must be brimming to overflow with your 'sins'." The sarcasm of your tone is unmistakable. 

He looks you up and down leisurely, you feel very hot very suddenly. "Perhaps not yet." You blink, but he continues, "Come. Sit with me and tell me why you are here then, little girl." Sitting in a pew, he motions to the small gap between himself and the arm. It does not seem like nearly enough space for your wide hips. That large hand pats his own leg gently and you find yourself stepping forward as though hypnotized. 

You were right, it is not enough space, you are practically in his lap. He is hot and solid against you, his body has no give and you can't help but compare it to the only other time you felt anything remotely so hard. The wedding night had not been nearly so attractive. Your chest is heaving above the corset as you fail to subdue yourself.

A long arm rests along the back of the pew, you can feel solid muscle under your shoulders. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you fold them in your lap but this only results in a more spectacular display of cleavage. You steel yourself and turn to look at him…

The priest is staring at your breasts. 

I thought they could not… am I wrong?

His eyes snap up to your own and you feel faint. They are the deepest, darkest brown you have ever seen. He is stunning and you are enthralled.

"I have never been to a church service, my father despises the institution, but my mother passed away a few years back, and one of her last wishes was for me to explore the church." You confess in a rush only to wince at the choice of wording. Your eyes drop to his chest with your mortification, it is not a wise decision on your part.

The sheer breadth of him is boggling. You can see muscle flexing under the black garment and all you can think about is how it must feel. Your palms itch to touch and you fidget minutely until something makes contact with your skin. Glancing down, you see that he has deposited his rosary in your shaking hands. Slowly, but not hesitantly, he closes your fingers around the smooth wood by engulfing both of your smaller hands in one of his larger extremities. 

His skin is like fire and you feel the same crackling energy that fills the air prior to a strike of lightning. Trapped by his presence, you gulp.

"Tell me." He breathes into your hair, "You know nothing of the faith? None of the rituals or traditions? No rules or obligations? Do you even know to which sins you might confess?" It seems that it should be saddening to him, but his purring tone is almost gleeful.

"C-correct. I do not." You stutter. Your eyes remain focused on his single hand overlapping both of yours in your lap. He is so close to your center that it makes you ache. Are there levels of sin? Am I committing a more serious offense right now? A higher sin, if you will? Perhaps you really are hysterical. 

"Oh, little girl, what I could teach you of sin would certainly fill you to overflowing."

You shudder violently and break out into goosebumps. The feel of your hardened nipples trapped inside the corset is maddening. Your former husband had never incited such a severe reaction, then again, he did not look like this man. 

"Married!" You blurt out in a panic. He freezes but does not back away. "Was. I was married. He, he returned me to my parents when I failed to produce an heir. Like a faulty broodmare. Is, is that a sin?" The babbling string of bitter words reveals far more fear and humiliation than you had planned. "It was an annulment. He was Protestant. I was deemed frigid." 

You gawk in shock as that gargantuan hand lifts to trace a single finger along the neckline of the corset peeking out of your blouse. Your pebbled nipples are visible through both soft layers of fabric and he brushes over them fleetingly. Your entire body jerks and you gasp. 

"To be barren is not a sin, however the Church does not recognize an annulment after the marriage has been consummated. In the view of Catholicism you are still married. Have you known any other men than your husband? Biblically, of course." He rumbles into your ear as his hand flattens over your collarbone. The span of it encompasses you from shoulder to shoulder. You feel dwarfed and vaguely threatened. 

"No… But I have wanted. To, to know. Another." Your breathing fails as the hand slides down your front to press your own fists into your crotch firmly.

"Now that is a sin. You are lustful, are you not?" His hopeful tone rips a whine from you. You somewhat enjoyed relations with your husband, it was vaguely pleasant sometimes despite your general overall distaste for the man, but this feels much more similar to when you touch yourself.

"I," you squirm, consumed with a heretofore unknown feeling of guilt, but he presses down harder on your lap and your legs spasm as they try to spread of their own volition. 

"Go on," He orders quietly. "Your lust led you astray, did it not?" The arm around your shoulders has constricted, his other hand snakes inward to stroke over your throat and it's hammering pulse point. You whimper as your belly liquefies and you want … something.

"I, I t-touched." Oh, this is beyond mortifying. Women are not supposed to want, much less touch, and certainly not enjoy as you have. You know what is respectfully acceptable in polite society and you know that the things you have done to yourself fall very neatly and precisely outside of those parameters. 

"You touched another man?" You shake your head tightly. 

"You touched a woman?" Again, a negative response, and again, a strangely gleeful question.

"You touched yourself." He purrs triumphantly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. The feel of his beard lowers your inhibitions. You had always wondered how a beard would feel on your chin, your neck, between your thighs…

"I cannot judge the severity of the infraction without witnessing the full extent of your wrongdoing." What does that mean? "You must show me, little girl." 

Your jaw drops and you turn to him in shock. He is so close that your noses touch and all you can think about are his lips framed so perfectly in that closely cropped graying beard. The hand on your neck creeps downward to flatten your left breast.

"Like this?" He questions softly, brown eyes blazing. Despite his best attempt, he cannot completely engulf your breast in his hand. Rather, he squeezes gently and massages. You are struck speechless, the touches are instigating a new and terrifying response lower in your body. Your breasts have been handled before, but you have never felt anything like this. 

"Not, um, not especially. I do not, I did not--" you choke off as he locates your nipple and pinches softly. Your hips buck of their own will and deep inside you can feel tension winding tighter. This has never happened before and you aren't entirely sure that you like it. "I never really touched, there. It, it's l-lower." You did not mean to say that.

He releases your hands only to slip between them and your body. Belatedly, you remember that you wore nothing under your skirt. You try to squeeze your legs together, it does not stop his progression. 

"Tell me to stop. Tell me you do not want to do this, and I will add lying to your list of transgressions." His voice is dark, dangerous. You relax into his hold and his fingers press the fabric deep between your thighs. The wetness soaks through, you have never been in such a state. "It seems that in spite of your reluctance, you are quite ready to show me."

"Here?!?" You yelp. The cry echoes along the high ceilings and he chuckles at your outrage. 

"Perhaps you would prefer the confessional?" He grins at you with a dazzling array of teeth. It is more threat than anything else.

"I thought, ohh, I thought priests could not. Not. You know." Flapping your hand about seems to convey your message sufficiently. 

"My vows are no concern of yours, little girl." He growls into your ear and you squeak helplessly under the assault.

You push to your feet with a hand on his thigh, but it gives you pause. He is solid under your touch, nothing but the bulk of muscle. What does a priest do to attain this level of, of, well, muscle? You glance down and your legs wobble. His interest is prominent. You have never seen anything that large.

"Do not worry about that. Show me how you worry about yourself. It is your soul at risk here, after all."  He ushers you to the little booth with his looming presence and a large hand on your lower back. You suppose he must either know what to do about himself or you are wrong about all that the priestly vows entail. How would I know?

The confessional is just big enough to fit you both. You spin around only to find yourself face to chest with him. He smells purely and indefinably male. Your hands come up to steady yourself on his chest and you give in to the temptation to feel. His rippling muscles make your legs give out and you collapse gracelessly onto the bench.

He kneels to the floor in one fluid motion. Those very large hands gather up your skirt but he catches your eye.

"Now you will show me how bad you have been and I will mete out your punishment."

--------------------

Am I truly going to debase myself in this manner? With a priest? In a confessional? I am very certain that this is not what Mother meant. You always were too contrary.

Your hands shake as you reach out to slap the skirt down tight to your knees. 

"Wait!" You plead urgently. No man has ever made you pant like this. His huge hands grip your knees through the skirt, he looks up to drown you in those bottomless eyes. "I… how do I, what should I call you? I do not even know your name."

"My name is Diego, but priests are referred to as 'Father', little girl." He smiles widely, it transforms his face into something softer, younger and freer. He does not ask for your name and you do not offer it.

"Now," he murmurs, "Show me how you sin."

A full body shudder shakes your form and you take a deep breath. Your hands release the skirt and you close your eyes in embarrassment. Painfully slowly, he rucks the skirt up to your lap, dragging his hot hands up your thighs as he progresses. 

"My, my. You are very bad, are you not? Nothing under your skirt?" He tsks, but his voice is warm with pleasure. His hot breath washes over your center obscenely, "And so very pretty."

Slapping a hand over your mouth does not muffle your whimper. He keeps one hand on your skirt, but reaches up to wrap the other around your forearm. Pulling your hand to yourself, he stares at you meaningfully. 

With great trepidation, you bring your fingers to your pulsing point of pleasure. The priest moans quietly, his dark eyes fixed on your most forbidden place. You jolt with the initial contact, then press down firmly. It feels just as good as always, but the addition of a ravenous man watching makes you clench tight far sooner than normal.

"Does it feel good?" He rasps quietly. You nod deliriously. 

"Do you enjoy being observed?" His lips curl up at the corners with deviousness.

"I- apparently? Never. I have never, ohh." Your voice is unrecognizable. 

"Your husband never looked upon you thus?" He arches a brow. You shake your head in horror. 

"N-no! He never touched or, or, oh, put his mouth on me." Your admission is a fearful whisper. "I had heard talk, filthy gossip, of men doing such things but..." You trail off with wide eyes as he licks those sinful lips very deliberately. 

"Yes, terrible rumors. That would be rather shameful." Those long fingers creep ever higher and your eyes must be ridiculously large. The pressure in your belly is crushing, you can feel everything tightening by the moment. 

"But." You gulp. His eyes gleam with anticipation. "I have. Thought. About it. Being touched so… pervertedly. Is, is that a sin?" Your breathy voice is tremulous with wary hope.

"No, little girl." The dark rumble so close to your most private parts vibrates decadently, the sensation is so strong that your eyes roll back momentarily. "No worse than the sins you are already committing."

"Oh. W-well, in that case, perhaps I should have asked for it specifically." You tease. The look in his eyes is not teasing. You lick your lips and nearly beg, "Will you t-touch me? Please, Father."

His pupils grow wide as you look on in wonder. His hands spasm, his expression crumples as if in pain, and he groans lowly, "I will touch you, bonita. I will touch you until you are sorry for your sins and beg me to stop."

Shaking like a leaf, you hold your breath in anticipation as his hands climb ever higher until they hover above your folds. "Please." You breathe.

One finger strokes along the edge of your lower lips, gliding in more wetness than you knew you could produce. It dips between to part you open, a sob escapes your gritted teeth, then he touches your entrance gently. You watch, bespelled, as he tests for give. I want it, you realize. Then, he finds the correct angle, and sinks the entirety of his long digit inside you.

"Ohhhh!" You wail as your body collapses in on itself, ecstatic paroxysms shaking you apart in waves. Your fingers press down harshly to draw it out.

"Yes, little girl. Let me see. Very good." He coos quietly. Your mind stalls in confusion, but then he moves. 

"Oh, oh, what. I do not understand. Please, I. I. What. What are you doing?" You whisper brokenly. 

"In order to fully understand the sin, you must fully explore it. Do you want me to teach you?" The question is dripping with wickedness. His expression is frightful, covetous and foreboding.

You nod, then shake your head as the finger retreats, only to nod again as two fingers return.

"It has been some time, has it not? Since a man filled you?" Your discomfiture grows, but it feels too good to stop him. 

"Y-yes. He was, your fingers are the s-same size." The confession is wrung out of you. Your mind flashes back to the sight of his bulging interest and you cannot help but wonder just how big he is. 

"That would explain why you are so tight. Do not fret, I can offer you a solution to that as well." Teeth gleam in the low light and you shiver. He shuffles closer on his knees and your brow furrows in concern. He smiles warmly, "Go on, continue."

"I do not. Know. Are there other, more things?" You feel foolish, but he clearly knows more than you do about this. 

"So much more, little girl. Does a sinful little creature such as yourself like this? Are you enjoying the fingers of a holy man in your most filthy of places?" Said fingers brush deep, he touches places that have never been reached before. His wide shoulders keep your legs spread far to give him room. 

"Y-yes? I think? It. It feels, strange. I feel full, but yet I want more. I--" you choke as he thrusts his fingers into you, pulls out, and then sinks deep again. Oh. Ohhhh. This feels better than anything you have experienced yet and tears roll down your cheeks. You beg shamelessly, "Please, oh please. Do not. Do not stop."

The deep bark of laughter is humiliating but it feels too wonderful for you to care. You are tightening again, bearing down around him steadily. He commands you confidently, "Again, little girl. Show me again."

Your inner muscles flutter wildly and then compress decisively. It is different than your self-induced sensations, but just as good. Your head falls back against the wall as your hips roll offensively. You are making noises that sound demonic in their own right, high pitched screeches and sobbing wails.

"You are a quick study. Have a third." Diego growls and you feel stronger pressure as he pushes three fingers into you. It stretches you uncomfortably for a moment and your hands fly down to his wrist.

"Wait." You gasp and squirm. He adjusts his hand to a new angle and the pain subsides to only aching fullness. "What. What are you doing?"

Your jaw hangs open limply as you watch him leaning ever closer to your privates. You remember your own admission clearly He never touched me or put his mouth on me.

The priest continues downward until you can only see the top of his head, covered in thick, lustrous hair. His breath ghosts over the little ball of nerves before you feel something completely foreign. Hot, soft, wet pressure where your fingers had been earlier. His tongue. You realize with a shock. He is licking me!

The first pass is too new, the second is long and slow so you have time to process this terrifyingly delicious sensation. Your back bows, your head cracks backwards against the wall, and you scream. You want more, you want to run, you sink down onto him and jerk away spastically. He is relentless, you are not entirely sure what he is doing besides using his tongue on you, and you do not possess the mental wherewithal to find out. Your hands flit about violently until one lands in his hair.

He groans against the center of your pleasure.

You shriek and hang on tightly as your body seizes up with another climax. Your vision wobbles and you gasp for air. 

As things come back into focus he stands over you, untying the sash to part his robes. Your eyes immediately drop to the bulge of his manhood being freed by hands slick with your juices. You recoil in fear at the sight.

He is positively massive. Longer than you thought possible but even thicker around. His own hand barely circles the girth. The tip is dripping steadily and you can smell the sharp tang of his desire.

He reaches forward in a flash of movement and yanks open your blouse and corset deftly. Your chest bounces free and you shrink into the wall at your back 

"Now," he eyes you intently, "You are prepared to receive your punishment."

"Will you hurt me?" Your tiny voice gives him pause as he registers your fear. His eyes soften and he reaches out to brush your wild hair back gently. He cups your jaw and leans close to your trembling body.

"What is a punishment that does not hurt just a little?"

Before you can answer his lips are on your own. He fits his mouth to yours, the beard burns wonderfully, and when you gasp he slips his tongue inside to attack your own. He takes and takes, leaving no inch untouched, just as you assume he will do below. His broad body arches over you and he steps between your legs. One hand cups a breast and he uses it to pin your shoulders, the other drops lower to position his length at your entrance. You shake violently, the memory of your wedding night clouds you with apprehension.

The pressure is immense, you sob into his mouth as he pushes into you. It pinches sharply at first when the head breaches, but then eases and the majority of him sinks deeply into you. He pulls back from your mouth to look at your tear stained face. 

"Breathe. Relax. You can take this, can you not? You are a good little girl, yes?" The soft rumble brings you back to the present. You are stretched to the limit, but he is not hurting you. Diego stays still long enough for you to soften around him, your tense muscles ease and you understand that it feels good. Very, very, very good. "There. How perfectly you take this. You were made for this, to writhe on my cock. So sinfully tight."

You open your eyes to find him huddled close, both big hands petting over your hair, down your cheeks to cup your breasts. His face is tense, he is holding himself back for you to adjust. It is more thoughtful than your previous proceedings. You reach up to touch his beard in wonder, it is wet with your arousal. Hands wandering, you stroke down his torso until reaching where you are joined together. He hisses above you as you feel the base of him, still unable to fit all of it inside you. Hands climbing, you slide up under his shirt to encounter a wall of muscle under soft skin. The feel of him makes you whine with want.

"Oh, you are indeed ready to atone." He sighs happily. Leaning down, he buries his face in your bosom and you jump with the textures of smooth skin, soft hair, and ticklingly abrasive beard. Wet heat envelopes a nipple and your chin crashes into your collarbone as you try to see what he is doing. He laves your nipple with the flat of his tongue, long and decadent passes that have you gasping and quivering. 

"A loving doe, a graceful deer—

 may her breasts satisfy you always,

 may you ever be intoxicated with her love."

He murmurs what you assume must be a proverb directly into your chest as he uses you wickedly.

Your hands settle on his broad shoulders, he is warm and solid all around you, you are soft and pliant beneath him. Narrow hips hitch and you cry out at the aborted thrust. He is so deep inside you that he must be able to touch your heart. Your heat clenches around his length and you both moan.

But then, Oh good lord, he moves. The long drag of his retreat pulls unknown sensitivity from you and the newfound discovery spills from your lips.

"Oh. Ohhhhh. This is. This is what. I, I never knew-" You babble mindlessly until he snaps back into you. Here you shriek. Words fail you entirely as he takes you more thoroughly and enthusiastically than you have ever been had before.

"Yes, little girl. Take the punishment you deserve, that you require. Take it all." He growls harshly, his hips smack your buttocks and the sound of it is obscenely blasphemous in this building. Your fingers dig into him as the tension builds. You are familiar with this, it feels much the same as it does when you bring yourself to fits, but it continues to mount. Previous experiences had ended at this point so you assumed achieving the same outcome was simply not possible by this method of stimulation. It feels like you might be wrong.

"I can tell that this pleases you. Wicked little thing, greedy on my cock. You want more, yes?" His dark words should make you feel shame, but he sounds inordinately pleased with your proclivities. He bites your neck and you bawl as your body contracts on him blissfully. His elated groan sears you with pride, "Yessss, good girl."

He rips himself away, drawing a soft protest from you at the loss of his body. His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he announces, "Now you may repent, little girl. On your knees."

You thrill at his command. This you have seen just once in your naughty wanderings, a woman on her knees and a man using her mouth as he would her nethers. 

You drop to the floor, hands landing on his bare thighs, and gawk at his impressive manhood on full display. He is perfectly formed, long and curved just slightly at the end, thicker around than you could have ever imagined. His cock, you rather enjoy the illicit word, shines with your wetness. 

"Open wide and do not bite. You would not want to err further than you already have, yes?" He instructs softly, but his hand on your head is like steel as he urges you forward. You nod nervously and lick your lips, then glance up at him.

His eyes are black, huge and starving, his mouth hangs open as he breathes harshly, and he actually whines at the sight of your tongue. A curl of power glows inside you. Leaning forward, you touch the leaking tip in a fleeting kiss while watching him closely. His expression melts in agony, "Yesss, take it. Ohh, perfect little girl."

The praise emboldens you enough to open wide and lick him as he did you. It is wet, salty and slipperier than his tongue, firm and hot. You taste again and his shaking hands pull you forward. Your jaw relaxes instinctively and he bumps the back of your throat. You cough, but his ragged moan is too sumptuous, you need more. Keeping him held firmly, you press your tongue to the underside to trap him against the roof of your mouth. With chagrin, you feel yourself drooling, but when you go to slurp it back into your mouth it creates suction around his length. He howls above you.

"Ahhh, yes. Yesyesyes. Sí, perfecto. Taste me. Take my cock deep." You pull again and both of his massive hands squeeze your shoulders tightly. What if it is like the other actions? The thrusting? You bob your head experimentally, taking ever more of his length with each round. 

"Yes, yes, little girl. That is it. Take. T-take a deep breath!" His instructions are simple enough but you do not understand why until his hands pull your nose deep into the thick thatch of hair at his base. Heat pours into your throat and you understand rather well exceedingly quickly. There is nowhere for his release to go but down, you swallow frantically to avoid choking. It is not enough, the salty liquid cascades down your chin as he pulls back and you struggle to breathe. He collapses back to the door of the confessional, panting harshly.

You cough for a minute, clearing your throat. Your knees ache, the aftertaste is strong, but the absolutely devout way he peers down at you would be worth every sin.

"Am I forgiven, Father?" You murmur demurely.

He hauls you to your feet so quickly that it makes your head spin. His lips are on yours, his tongue delving deep inside as he licks the taste of himself from you. Breaking the kiss, he sets you back on your feet and tweaks your nipples one last time.

"Go home. Go home and get on your knees and remember what you have done, little girl." With that, he opens the door of the confessional and dumps you out into the church proper. The large space is blessedly empty. You relace your corset hurriedly and dart for the door. Stepping outside into the humid night, you turn around for one last look. He is standing there, just outside the booth, clothing mostly righted, staring after you with voracious eyes. As the door closes he dares to wink with no shame.

‐----------------

You run home in the dark, terrified to be caught in your stained skirt and ripped blouse. The winding road that climbs the cliffside to your casita is traversed before you know it and you hesitate outside your own door. The small lamp of the sitting area is visible in the open window, your father is still awake. Creeping in, you hug the edge of the hall and dive into the kitchen. 

"Ah, you're back! How was the church, honey?" Your father calls. 

"Oh. Stuffy. Pretentious. The usual." You holler casually, already mounting the stairs to the loft where you sleep.

"Well, your mother would be happy you tried. Good night!" He responds with amusement. 

"Yes, of course. Good night." Your response is vague and distracted as you round the corner at the top of the stairs and close the door. Finally alone, you collapse to your knees on your pallet and laughingly cry yourself to sleep.

------------------

When you wake the next morning it is already light out. You can hear the crashing waves far below your open window and you sit up slowly. Your languorous stretch is cut short by the ache between your legs. My jaw hurts, too.

Voices outside catch your attention. Slinking to the window, you peer over the sill to receive a surprise. Your father is standing outside under a palm tree speaking to another man. You would know those broad shoulders anywhere.

The priest! Your panic is drowned by confusion, He is wearing regular attire, no cassock. Why is he here? Why is he dressed so? What is he saying to your father? You are rooted to the spot as he mounts his horse, a very fine horse, you note, and then glances up. He spots you failing to hide and has the absolute gall to wink before riding away. No shame.

Tearing down the stairs, you meet your father in the kitchen. Barking cheerfully, you greet him with a chirpy, “Good morning!”

"Good morning, honey. You did not tell me that you met the Don of this town at the church last night. He has been overseeing the repairs to the roof. It seems he donated all the supplies and materials. I have heard the locals say that he expects hard work but is fair." Your father is preoccupied with the process of making coffee, luckily, so he does not see your gawping expression. 

"He, he is what?" You ask. What happened last night?

"The Don. He said the new priest should arrive sometime next week. But, there is more." You sink into a chair, hands shaking. Your father continues obliviously, "He invited us to dinner at his hacienda tonight. Apparently, you made quite an impression." 

Hands land heavily on your shoulders as your father stands behind you. "I am sorry, honey. I had to disclose your past. He seemed undeterred, Don Diego said you seemed a bit of a, a, handful, but he likes that. Maybe this is your second chance. I worry what will happen to you after I've gone. An unmarried woman alone in this world is often preyed upon."

He has no idea how correct he is. The absolute nerve, how dare he, this is despicable, the, the, cad!

Your father leans down to kiss your head, "He asked my permission to court you. I told him he needed to ask you. I will not decide your life for you. Follow your heart this time, honey."

You liked it. You liked him. You want him again. You will wear the scantiest dress you own to dinner. Repay him in kind with damning torture. 

"Oh yes, I remember the exact wording he used to describe you: a hellcat." Your father chuckles fondly.

No shame.

[ill-skillsgard]

Six Years - Axel Cluney

Title: Six Years

Characters: AU Axel Cluney x ambiguous female OC

Description: Six years, ten years, twenty... No amount of jail time will stop Axel from taking back his throne.

Warning: 18+ sex/oral/cheating/dub-con (kind of, not really)/creampie - This is intended for a mature adult audience. All opinions and occurrences in this piece are purely fictitious and do not reflect any real person or event. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: I feel really bad for having no time to work on drabble requests and stuff. I’m sure you all understand now isn’t the easiest time and my silence is for no reason other than focusing more energy on important matters. Here’s a piece from my Patreon for those of you who don’t subscribe. And anyone who is a patron, I’ve just dropped a surprise for you guys over that way. 

I hope you guys enjoy!

+

She gasped, not from pleasant surprise—though Axel’s presence indeed came unexpected—but from utter shock. How dare he knock on her door late at night and how dare he dawn that crooked, criminal smile. How dare he pitch his arm against the doorjamb, wearing his pants low on his hips with the band of his underwear on display, his own version of a supermodel. And how dare he try to reach out and touch her face.

Fantasies of this exact situation had frolicked in her daydreams for years, but she never expected them to manifest on her doorstep. Yet there he stood, winking one green eye. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, wearing his neglect on his chin and upper lip in that fashionably scruffy way. Though his upbeat energy hadn’t dwindled an inch, something about him had changed. She spent a breathless moment trying to pick out the detail.

It was the tattoos. Axel had accumulated a considerable amount of ink since last they saw each other before he went away. Her eyes studied the markings on his arms, glimmering as they moved along the crude images.

Why he chose her doorstep to reveal himself was no mystery. His grimy smile said it all. She glanced back, then stepped into the hall and shut the door. Axel gave her space—another surprise.

“What the hell are you doing here, Axel? How did you find out where I live?”

Axel flashed a lopsided grin. “That’s not important. Say, who were you talking to in there? S’that your roommate?”

He had nerves. Enough to stand at the door, listening to the mutters of conversation before knocking, interrupting her boyfriend in the middle of another political speech in which she had no volley. She had about thirty seconds—a minute, tops—to shoo her ex away before her current flame got curious.

Her choices were to tell him off, but Axel would never leave if he had already jumped through hoops to find her address, or push him down the hall into the stairwell to buy a couple more minutes of conversation. She chose the latter, and motioned him away, realizing her tank top and pyjama shorts were a drastic step-down from casual. The seam of her bottoms rode up, revealing two swells of muscle that tantalized the man following her.

Behind the fire door, he cornered her on the landing between two flights of concrete steps. Her breaths echoed off the cement and carried off above and below.

“Axel, I can’t,” she said.

“Sh, baby, don’t say that.”

A tingle of danger spread through her hands and feet—that sensation from another age when her only obligations were schoolwork and not becoming another teenage pregnancy statistic.

Axel followed her until they came eye-to-eye, her three steps up on the flight, and he on the landing.

“You look so good,” Axel said, reaching out to graze her bare legs. “I missed you.”

“Please, I can’t... My boyfriend. He’s in my apartment,” she warned.

“Who’re you dating? Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know him. He’s from out of town,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? How long you been seeing him for?” Axel asked.

Firecrackers went off in her stomach, reminding her of the time Axel brought a handful of black cats on one of their dates. He liked to stick them in places they had no business being inside. He did that a lot.

“It doesn’t matter. This can’t happen. I’m sorry. It’s been like six years, Axel. I’ve moved on.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Axel murmured. “You seriously don’t want to pick up where we left off? Man, I loved us together. We had such good times. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, Axe, they were good times, but that was forever ago. And I didn’t even know you were back in town! You can’t just show up out of the blue and expect me to jump into your arms.”

“I had to see you. Your brother gave me your address... After I bribed him with beer. I spent my only ten bucks in the world trying to find you.”

She cursed her sibling under her breath. He always liked Axel, and for beer, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give up.

“Did you hear me?” Axel asked.

“Yes, I heard you!” She snapped. “It doesn’t matter, Axe. I’m not dumping my boyfriend for you.”

An oily smile slithered over his face. Axel took one step up, and she matched it, keeping their eye-level consistent. It was that smile that made her do bad things, those flashing teeth convincing her to disregard obligations. His lips had whispered and kissed her into breaking laws, promises and ties. Hell, they had nearly talked her into dropping out of school at one time. And for what? For her to become a criminal alongside him? No. She had a life to live, one that didn’t involve running from the law.

But Axel was nothing if not a persistent man. No was not a word he relished. Always one to spurn restrictions, Axel advanced on her until she turned and climbed up the stairs. He followed her to the top, licking his lips as he watched her ass moving from side to side with every step. The door to the roof stopped her as Axel grabbed her hips and pulled her backward.

Axel kissed the back of her thigh, and when she didn’t protest, stuffed his face between her legs.

“Oh, yes... Gimme that ass,” Axel shivered. “That’s mine.”

She hated that her love remained untainted by the years he spent locked up. When months had gone by she vowed to forget him, but the promise was made in vain. No man could usurp the throne she’d erected and hidden in the deepest recesses of her untamed heart. The thicket had only grown wilder and more resilient in his absence, waiting for his return to release its stranglehold.

And she hated herself for failing to resist now. Cursing her heart, she allowed him to curl his fingers under the waist of her shorts. The fireworks shooting off in her stomach began a great fire in her belly that ate away her reserve—not that her immunity to Axel’s whims had ever been any stronger than gossamer.

It was no secret that every man in her life after him had been a placeholder. Some were smart—much smarter than Axel—while others matched his look, but never mimicked his spark. Some had stable jobs, good habits and strong family ties, but they didn’t promise adventure. When she turned around to face Axel, it was like gazing into a crystal ball, watching the careless times of her life flashing in his eyes.  

He peeled her shorts off, lifted one thigh over his shoulder and yanked her panties aside to lick the parting of her folds. A moan drew from his throat, reminding her that this was real and not a fleeting vision to tickle her boredom. The sensation jarred her into the present, and she pushed his head away.

“Axel, I said I can’t.”

His hand flew out to bring her back in. “Too fucking late.”

He spun her around, pressed his palm against her tailbone, bending her over, and dove back in from behind. Ten long fingers clutched her cheeks, spreading her lips open for his tongue to explore. Her taste elated years-old desire, and soon he had her on the ground with her legs over his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “See this pussy? You see this beautiful slit right here? That belongs to me. Do you understand, sweetheart? It doesn’t matter if they put me away for six years... Ten years. Twenty. No, it doesn’t matter because you’re mine, aren’t you?”

The courage to agree with him hadn’t arrived. She fought a battle in her mind even as he trailed the tip of his tongue around her clit. There he rang, summoning her audacity with gentle flickers and groans. The vibrations woke each nerve in her body—some she thought forever put to rest. But they sang beneath his praises, voices fanning the forest fire spreading through her body.

“Axel, oh my god.”

“Yeah, nobody eats it like I do, huh?”

With her hand clasped over her mouth, she muffled her reactions. The gasps that slipped from the cracks travelled down the stair shaft. To think any moment someone might open the door excited her heart to racing. Who knew what was beyond the exit or coming up the steps from below? All she knew was his lips sipping on the liquid he spat between her legs. He worked her into a lather with his tongue, then introduced one of his fingers slowly until the warm metal of a ring brushed her opening.

“Tell me you missed my fingers inside you, baby. That’s what I wanna hear—what I need to hear right now. Say your pussy will always belong to me.”

“Axel—” she choked, still unable to admit defeat even amidst an obscene display.

Axel splayed her thighs, holding the ditches of her knees, so all she had left to think about was his mouth trailing slobber and a lively tongue in luscious patterns over her pussy. No inch of her parts went untouched, unkissed or without admiration for long. And the noises—oh, the sweet sound of Axel’s purr against her clit, magnificent and just intense enough to tease her to the edge of orgasm. He added another finger and rubbed upwards while tickling her thighs with his scruff.

“I want your cum. Right now. It belongs to me, and I’ve come to take what’s mine. You can tell your pansy-ass boyfriend to pack his bags, ‘cause I’m home now,” Axel’s voice trailed into a giggle. She despised how cute he could be with his infectious laughter and straying eyes. “Be sure to thank him for keeping my pussy warm, though.”

A smirk broke over her face, setting Axel off on another filthy exclamation.

“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve been waiting for this big cock, haven’t you? Tell me, honey... Is he hung like me? Does he stretch your pussy out ‘til it’s sore like I do?”

Still, she remained silent. Axel could have her body, but he would never hear her say he was right. And it was that stubbornness he loved.

“Oh, come on, cat got your tongue, baby? Or is it you can’t think when I finger your wet little hole?”

He sped his strokes, angling his fingertips just so, reading her face even if she muffled her cries behind her hand. This skill he mastered long ago. Every bit of her body came alive beneath his touch, and he used each part to arouse her forth. Her nipples were subject to his free hand, pulled and pinched between his knuckles as he scooped up one breast and the other. When he had his fill of toying with her chest, his hand slithered to her neck, first caressing and then squeezing with care. A trapped moan buzzed in her throat, assuring him the motion he maintained with his other hand was well received.

Two fingers coaxing fluid, a pair of lips kissing and sucking at her clit, and a firm hold on her throat had her pleasure soaring until it hovered in the air, finally nose-diving into an explosion of pent up lust, heat and scandal. With the plummet came the harsh reality: she was unfaithful. It was too late; hammered in stone, factual. She was a cheater, and nothing would fix that. No amount of regret or sorrow could cleanse this mistake. But oh, how her womanhood trembled beneath his charge.

“Yes, that’s what I want. See? I knew you wanted it.”

Axel hadn’t finished when her tremors turned to shakes. He climbed the two remaining steps, took hold of her and flipped her onto her knees.

“My turn. Did you think I’d let you go without a little something for me? Without giving you this big cock?”

“I have to go. My boyfriend—”

The clap of a cupped hand meeting skin interrupted her protest and thundered down the stairwell.

“I didn’t come all this way not to pump you full of cum. So shut your mouth before I make you and take my fucking load like a good girl.”

Ever a man of his word, Axel made a quick act of finishing inside of her. He rubbed against her, balls emptying months of lust and abstinence while he laid his cheek against her back, panting.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Axel asked, feeling around for her shorts to hand back.

“I should have known you’d do something like this when you came home,” she dismissed.

“Honey, I did nothing I wasn’t allowed to do,” Axel chuckled. “Sure, I threw you off guard. But what does it matter? You’d have caught wind of my being home and dropped that little boyfriend of yours in a heartbeat. Know why?”

She twisted around to watch Axel helping her with her shorts. “Why?”

“Because you love me, and I love you, and we are meant for each other. Now go back to him with my cum inside you. Sleep beside him for one more night. I don’t care. You’ll be with me again soon.”